Pishi and Pishemoshai

Yesterday was 1st Jan 2016. The beginning of the new year. I had chalked out all the various tasks I had to do, as it was an important day-the beginning of the new year, carefully in my mind. Visit to the temple, making payesh, morning prayers, phonecalls to all my near ones. The last one troubled me slightly as I had a call to make to my pishemoshai to wish him new year greetings. This was a task which I faced with a tiny trepidation in my mind, which was always the case whenever I had to talk to the venerated elder of our family. Pishemoshai had always been one of the most important members of my father’s side of the family. His successful career as an inspector, SP and then DG of police was one which was always talked about and discussed in our family circles. He had always been helpful to everyone of his wife’s family and had helped out my father, my uncle, cousins and brother at various times when it was necessary to get a recommendation letter or pull some strings to get something done. He was always looked up to in the family and the arrival of pishi, pishemoshai or their children to our house was always an important occasion. The best dishes were brought out and sweets, nankeens and various delicacies were prepared by my mother and grandmother to greet them on their visit. Pishi too shone in the reflected glory of Pishemoshai and did not fail to regale us with stories of the important personages she met or the important events she attended as the wife of an important person. As she was an adept storyteller we would all listen to her with rapt attention and interest. Pishi and pishemoshai were highly interesting and reverential figures in my mind that of a eight or ten year old little girl.  Once they had left my mother , father, grandmother would discuss at length about their wealth, their contacts and their influence. Pishemoshai was tall and athletic with a face like that of ACP Pradyuman in CID which inspired fear. Pishi was small, petite and pretty. She would make it quite clear that at home she was the boss and not pishemoshai. In spite of numerous quarrels they would have with each other they were a close couple. I was specially scared of pishemoshai’’s beetling eyebrows and fierce expression when displeased and tried to stay out of his way as much as possible. He treated me always with kindness and sometimes observed that I was a ‘bhalo meye’. 

      Impressions of our childhood are hard to get rid of. The slight fear and trepidation which my pishemoshai induced in me remained in me even when I am 40+ making me slightly reluctant to talk to him, in case I should say something which should cause him not to think of me as a ‘bhalo meye’ any more. Today he was 85+, we had lost pishi a couple of years back, he was staying with his son and his family in his house at Kolkata. When I called him, he received my call eagerly and asked about my family. I replied that everything was as well as could be wished for and asked after his health. 

“ Boyosh to hochhe ma”, he replied and I agreed with him. After racking my brains for a topic on which I could talk I asked him about my cousin’s family and the name of his granddaughhter. which I could not recollect. He could not recollect this and after a couple of awkward pauses I tried to change the topic. “ Yes Mali is her name”, he burst out after a while, he seemed to be pleased to have remembered her name. I poured out various platitudes and sundry observations to which he listened with attention. I was trying to hastily finish off the call which was more of a duty whereas he seemed to want to stretch the conversation. After chatting desultorily for a few more minutes, thankfully it was time to say goodbye. I realized that the shift of time had changed my once mighty pishemoshai into a feeble old man.