“Nothing is so painful to the human mind than sudden change.”

It was 1996 and the summer holidays were nearing.  We (me and my sister) were excited to go to our granny’s place in Pollachi when my father broke the news of shifting our residence to a nearby sleepy village which was showing signs of development recently with the famous multi-specialty PSG Hospital in vicinity.  It meant part of the vacation was to dwindle in packing, relocating, and unpacking.  Me and my sister weren’t for the change, but then who bought our opinion?  We weren’t supposed to raise our voice against our dad’s wish because we were still “kids” at least that was what mom still believed.  So we bid goodbye to our friends and without much ado an auspicious day was chosen for “the house warming,” things were packed and in no time we (the new-age nomads) shifted to this new shelter.

Initially everything seemed strange.  A narrow avenue with matchbox-like houses and gutter flowing on both sides greeted us.  The so-called new house was in the ground floor of a bright yellow two-storey warren and adjacent to this erection was the lion’s den…err…the owner’s one-storey castle.  The house opened in a hall, two compact rooms, and a moderate kitchen, but the highlight was single bathroom for the ground floor families.  Yes, you read it right ‘Common Bathroom!’ if you aren’t daring then settle for sharing.  We rather settled down brooding.

Vacation was no more fun; lazy morning sleeps got sacrificed at six with milkman’s honk rattling us from slumber.  Unlike our previous residence, crossing two lanes would hit the main road so the rush hour in the morning was no less than a racetrack.  Every cycle and two wheeler competed to cross the congested alley leaving no space for the pedestrians.  Praise your stars if you weren’t hit by any of the speeding vehicles.  I didn’t know what pleased my father in this location – the proximity of bus stop and grocery shops? or a promised camaraderie (my father’s friend was one of the tenants).  He was the one who suggested this house (literally convinced) by praising it to the skies.  My innocent father agreed to relocate here expecting his company, but shortly he flew to Dubai in search of job to my father’s dismay leaving behind his family; so guess who was in good company! 

Holidays began to drag in this doomed locality of nosy neighbors and noisy vendors.  Cable connections had already boomed in the state then how could we lag behind? So time to bring down the wrapped TV.  While we drooled in front of the TV set admiring cute Aamir and dusky Shahrukh, the mosquito band behind us busily enjoyed its evening snacks, playing its violins at intervals.  Whether the hero gave us goose bumps or the mosquito is still a million-dollar question.  The sound of peppy songs didn’t fail to attract the street brats playing outside.  They had hard time peeping through our window to watch TV.  Some even tugged the curtains for a glimpse of Kajol and Prabhu Deva’s sprightly dance number.  Watching mom getting furious and bawling at those intruders was again something new.  She steps out to shoo the stubborn ones, pulls down the curtains, and closes the windows with a bang.  When she returns with same vigor to shout at us for entertaining the street my panicked sister accidentally increases the volume instead of mute and mom’s words get drowned out by the high notes of ‘Urvashi urvashi take it easy urvashi.’

What is your relocation story?

A few days back I was viewing ‘Maine Pyar Kiya’ on Zee.  I love watching movies on TV than theaters especially these ‘old movies’ (but this is evergreen) are full of memories of the good old times.  Well, nobody went to a movie with family just like that in those days, a romantic movie, a strict no no.  It wasn’t like a few swipes on the smart phone, read the reviews, and then booked the tickets in a jiffy.   It required a word of mouth, consent of elders, planning, budget, and whatnot… Getting to watch your favorite movies again was a rarity back then, but now with DTH repeating it every other week, I forget the count.  While my husband wondered why I glued to the T.V. whenever MPK was played, I pondered how the very first time I watched it back to back in VCR, yet another wonder of yesteryears.

It was 1990 or 1991 when my father was stationed in Pune and four families shared quarters in a lane.  During one of the vacations my neighbor uncle who was outstationed came back for a few days.  Those days Doordarshan played only award winning movies, so he planned to rent a VCR for a day.  Me and my friends shouted in excitement (imagine nine of us jumping).  The VCR guy (film critics of our times) suggested a few recently released movies and gave the video cassettes of a Tamil movie and a successfully running Hindi movie.  ‘Apna show time’ was around 5 in the evening; we grabbed a few cushions and sat munching snacks.  The Tamil movie was a political thriller, which only the elders enjoyed.  It was already 9 and elders were retiring to their beds.  We were to join them shortly, but Ravi coaxed us to stay back (obviously the daredevil of our group).  He switched off the lights pretending to obey and encouraged by Nimi di (uncle’s eldest daughter) Chotu tiptoed to close the bedroom doors of the elders.  Clueless what was happening, we struggle to adjust in darkness.  Someone hushes and the title track ‘Aate Jaate’ silences everyone.  What starts as a slow story captures our attention.  Teen taunts in the movie were identical to ours; the table tennis scene reminded my tiff with Abhi in badminton matches.  I turn around to see his reaction, in dimness all I could see was his peering eyeballs.  The sly looks of handsome Salman, innocence of Bagyashree, and her shuddering at his touch everything was so fresh and alluring in this romance that the ecstasy of ‘Mere Rang mein rangne waali…’ made our ‘Dil Deewana’ for Salman.  Animation of Lakshmikant was equally enjoyable.

Unlike the twists and turns of modern movies, sentiments and emotions were high.  Neither the time nor the fellow beings in the room mattered, will Prem unite with Suman winning the trust of her stern father (Alok Nath) bothered us.  Chotu and Pinto were rubbing their eyes to elude sleep lest they miss the climax fight.  Finally Suman weds Prem and even the kabothar gets its pair.  The “End” card rolls out, but no one moved from their place.  Being Saturday night, some had sprawled across the hall lazily to continue their sleep.  When the lights were switched on we had shock of our life, Ravi’s mother was amid us and wiping her tears.  When did she come?  Before she questioned us we quickly sneak into our bedrooms (secretly crushing on Salman).

In the morning, uncle admonished us for waking till midnight.  “Which movie did you watch?” was the question of each parent.  Moms stare at us and we keep mum abiding to our family norms.  It was a taboo in our households for kids to utter anything romantic…err… even if it were a film’s name.  ‘Maine Pyaar Kiya’ – aunty uttering these three words puts off further queries.  She plays the cassette again in a louder volume and as repeat audience we sit with our breakfast plates till lunchtime.  Climax was nearing, aunty was biting her nails when the VCR guy arrives to collect the cassettes.  She refuses to eject the tape and we too join in chorus.  The VCR guy pleads that his next customer is waiting and on uncle’s persuasion we halfheartedly agree.  Aunty curses the guy for his untimely entry and uncle chuckles at her craze for MPK.  It didn’t end there, Prem and Suman became household names in their lives later (their grandchildren are named Prem and Suman).

Now do you understand why I watch ‘Maine Pyaar Kiya’ again and again?   Do you have any such interesting anecdote with MPK? Do share!

P.S. This is not a promotional write up for the movie, just a nostalgic trip.