When the Tewari's came visiting

Evenings in Allahabad - I do not miss them, but I cannot forget them either. Easily classifiable as when there was electricity and when there was none.

When there was electricity, there was a surge of life – children playing, maids gossiping, water replenishing, dog walking, cookers hissing. The flipside was the drone of crickets. Happy crickets. Sad crickets.

Since days would begin early, the evenings would miraculously blend into a new day. The only remote excitement was a yearly Miss Universe, exams getting over or a new fight around the block. Despite these high points, we ate dinner at 830 p.m, locked the main gates by 930 and were in bed by 10 p.m.

There was one particular feature which sent a heat and a cold wave in our house - the musical honk of a car and the clink at our main door, and a voice that said “Lalit!” which could be heard behind locked doors. It was almost like we were programmed to spring into life with the magic words.

The father would discuss politics. The mother would pull her husband’s leg. The daughter was solemn but a good listener and the son was almost always bored to death. My father would laugh at the expletives used by Mr. Tewari. My mother would make interesting snacks at wee hours of the night – and sing while doing so. I remember how our house was alive at midnight and that the other 11 houses slept.

I remember how I waited for Saturday nights – would hope and pray even in my sleep that they would come. There would be some mindless banter. There would be a late night. There would be a lighthearted exchange. There would be someone visiting us. Sometimes, my father would announce that we would go and see them – which would mean dressing up, a 20 minute drive and samosas at their place.

Their friendship continued for almost 3 decades after which things started waning. The Tewari’s were complete opposites – crass, corrupt, loud, wealthy and well-dressed. Over time, the differences translated into opinions. We stopped seeing much of each other. Kids moved away. Parents became more insular. My father confesses – he misses Mr. Tewari’s company sometimes. But then perspective fills him and he comments on not regretting the distancing.

With the current pace of life, I never have an uneventful evening. But I do owe them a part of me back home. With the Tewari’s – life became a tad bit little less lonely whether we had electricity, or none.