Of Extended Families

I don’t like going to Delhi anymore .Since Mom Dad shifted to Nigeria, Delhi seems very empty. There is no Mom there to fuss over me and their house in Sarita Vihar is locked up.
This time when I went to Delhi on work, I decided not to stay with my friends, but to go to my Granny’s in Greater Kailash. And re-learnt all that a great Indian Family stands for.
The GK home is the one we stayed in when my parents moved back from Syria and I came back from the hostel. All my remaining school and college years happened in that house. Many years later when I moved out of Delhi and my parents moved their residence to Sarita Vihar, the GK house would have unexpected guests who were my long lost friends. All my hostel friends remembered was that my grandparents’ surname was Rekhi and that the house was behind the M Block market.
The house was always full -what with the multitude of cousins growing up there and a constant influx of guests.
This time, the house felt so empty. All the kids have grown up and flown the coop. They have moved to other cities and countries to create their own lives there. My Mama was so delighted that he came home early to make sure he was around when I came. My Mami spent her afternoon cooking up my favourite dishes and my loving Nani waited!
I walked into memories that evening. Of my aunt, 4 years my senior, making my life miserable because I had called her a bitch. In her logic, if I called her a bitch, it meant I called my Nani a kutiya and my Nana a dog and she threatened to tell them all. I was so petrified that I did not call or write to them even once from Syria that winter.
Of my young cousin Pooja, who sat in my lap all the way to Kashmir, merrily pissing on me when she wanted to. Of her falling in school and breaking her teeth and suffering miserably because of them for many years.
Of my cousin Chandan, who I adored and who called himself Tandan Lekhi. Of him getting ready the moment he would realise my granddad was ready to go shopping.
Of the 1984 riots, when Lotty Mama disappeared for hours and people were frantic because Sikhs were being brutally murdered. And of the time when everyone thought that the mob had reached our house because Chandan zipped up his private parts and all the women went hysterical.
Of my Nani and Nana - diametrically opposite, but so tuned to each other. Of my Nana making his favourite eggs for me when I was all alone, studying for my exams. Of Lotty Mama and Tina Mami getting me food late night while I studied and they were out partying. Of Paras being born there and falling and breaking his teeth and ingesting poison.
Oh! There were memories and memories and I slept among them all that night.
And realised that growing up meant that all that was precious to me at one time is now present only in my memories. That we forget that it is not only our parents and siblings who make up our whole world. It is also the extended family that loves you dearly and is there with you every single step of your journey.
All their love was expressed to me in that evening I spent with them, reminiscing about old times, sharing gossip and in the tears that sprung in their eyes and their tight hugs when they had to let me go the next day.
I have another house in Delhi that I can call my own, even when Mom and Dad are not there. And feel so blessed because of that!