ADHVAGATI

26th. December evokes two distinct memories. One from the early years of 1980s. when we were residing in Lagos, Nigeria. We had traveled to Jos , during Christmas break, partly on holiday, partly for the husband to keep an appointment there on the 27th. When we enquired about what X'mas festivities we could expect in Jos, the capital city Plateau State, we were told that "Boxing Day", on the 26th., would be the most exciting event of the season. Thats when, for the first time, I heard about "Boxing Day" . 'Boxing ? Probably a traditional sporting event' i thought, remembering the Wrestling shows put up by the Pehlwans of the famous traditional Garadis ( akhadas) during Dasara in Mysore. An uneducated wild guess it turned out to be ; way off the mark ! I learnt that the "Boxing" in Boxing Day denoted a regular box used for collecting monetary gifts. This boxing custom apparently originated in Victorian England and had spread to its ...

Hearing even a snatch of our National Anthem brings up a lump in my throat. Always. Unfailingly. It wasn't always so. Though the walls of my father's house displayed pictures of Gandhiji and Nehru, and the library was stuffed with books relating to nationalism, i don't remember being too patriotic as a youngster. While in school (in the 60s-70s), one always thought of the National Anthem as one more oppressive school routine to be endured everyday after the morning assembly. Moreover, since we were only taught to sing it and not explained the meaning, the bengali words seemed like just a bunch of geographical names strung together. There wasn't the teeniest stirring of spirit as the Jaya-hey sounded off. Besides school, one other place where it had to be endured was in cinema theatres. We stood in attention alright ; accompanying parents made sure of that ! But mind would be either on the celluloid fantasies just witnessed or the promised ice-cream tre...

Life with a restless , itinerant spouse can be unsettling sometimes. One is never able to put down roots and one is forever living in a nomadic tent, forever planning for a future life of permanence. But there are great perks. One can tag along to see places one would never think of calling a tour operator for. Personally speaking, Timbuktoo has always been on the desiderata list. And Mali was almost within reach when we made home in Lagos. But we never did visit it. However, was fortunate to get a view of a cousin-city ,the closest to the "Timbuktoo feel " - KANO, the nerve centre of the Northern Hausa dominated provinces of Nigeria, situated by the River Jakara . Lagos was an upscale metro even then ( 1980s), Kano was startlingly different, though it had an airport and an Industrial Estate. Most parts were within the ancient city walled ( a crumbling mudfort, whose sad remains still stand here and there) with squat brown and gray mud houses and narrow alleys...