There has always been a large window in Her room facing the back lane of houses. Even after renovating the bedroom twice in last two decades, the window remains the only proud unchanged part of the decor.
Looking through the window, the back lane seldom finds visitors for its amusements. Maybe eloped lovers who couldn’t find a room, neighbors checking on water motors or repairmen fixing tattered wires chewed on by a rat or a monkey. Come summer dawns, the window brings in abundance of sunshine, ceasing the use of artificial ones. The window also brings in sound of music playing next door, families arguing and vegetable vendors shouting trumpets of their arrival.
Having grown up in this house, listening to these sounds seasons after seasons, they have become ingrained to her morning ritual. Vegetable vendors, neighbors, and trespassers would go about their business, creating a melody of a background score and She would continue to sleep, undisturbed.
A noisy morning norm was perhaps a confirmation of a new day. But amidst the uproar outside and sweltering summer heat glistening the room inside, nothing could break her slumber except this one time every May…
***
“Oye! Inni savere uthkar Kidrun bhaagi jaa rahi hai”
[Where are you running off to early in the morning?]
“Aagaya aagaya aagaya!!!”
[It’s here!!!]
“Kaun aagaya?”
[Who is here?]
It is ten past eight on a May morning, way early for the 11 year old who would not see the light of dawn until 10AM during summer vacations; which is why Her perplexed grandmother (aka Dadi) is wondering what could have possibly woken Her up with such excitement.
She woke up with a jolt at the sound She heard, rushed to find the closest pairs of chappals (of her Grandmother’s) and ran outside to the colony road. Eyes barely opening, She is squinting to see in the direction She knew She heard the sound coming from. “I so heard his voice. It has to be it…”
She hears it again. But She can’t seem to figure where the yelling is coming from, until there He emerges.
He is taking a right turn into the lane where She is standing in sheer anticipation. And there He is. The unsung hero, carrying a basket of season’s meva (fruit). She shouts back at him ‘Faalsey-waale bhaiya….’
He acknowledges her call and She hastily runs back inside.
“Dadi faalsey waala aaya Hai. Paise de do!”
[Dadi Falsa-seller is here. Please give me some money]
“Iske liye bhaag rahi thi?”
[Were you running for this?]
“Haan mujhey pata tha meine issi ki awaaz suni thi. Acha ab khareedo na, please”
[Yeah! I knew I heard him shout. Please, buy some falsa now]
“Savere-savere Ram Ka naam lete hain, faalsey Ka nahi.”
[Early morning you should be taking Ram’s name, not of Falsa]
“Ram Ram ji, Dadi… Acha chalo, faalsey lene.”
[Ram-Ram ji, Dadi…Now let’s go and buy Falsa].
She would circle her Dadi until the transaction is complete. The restless tween can’t help but wonder, why does Dadi have to bargain?
“20 rupees is not that much.”
“Buy it already.”
“Don’t choose the berries. Let him put it in the paper packet, already.”
“Dadi yaar, why are you so particular?”
“Take Masala.”
“No, we’ll put our own Masala.”
“Acha, buy na.”
“Bhaiya, come everyday to this house.”
“20 rupees and so less falsa. Take more”
“Pagli ho gayi Hai? Kal aur le lenge.”
[Have you gone mad, we’ll buy more tomorrow]
“Kya Dadi!”
[This is not fair, Dadi!]
More than a decade later, the window and Her habit continues to remain immutable. This morning She was jolted awake by the same sound with which She characterizes the arrival of summer. She rushed for outside when her Mom screamed that “we have already bought it” and Dad laughs that the sound of faalsey-waala woke you up again!
Like an annual ritual of celebrating the festivals of Holi, Diwali, falsa seemed like a reason for her to celebrate; perhaps also the only silver lining of excitement amidst the increasingly hotter summers each year. And most importantly continue the tradition in the name of that one person with whom it all began in the first place — Dadi.
***
“Bas khatam? Saare kha gayi?”
[Is it over? You ate the entire packet?]
“Twaade vaaste rakhne ne thode je.”
[I did save some for you.]
“Gala pakda jaana Hai tera, pet kharab ho jaana hai tera.”
[You are going to catch a bad throat and an upset stomach!]
“Ab toh kha liya, Dadi…kal aur lenge, please!”
[Now, I have eaten it… but please, we’ll buy some more tomorrow too!]
***
Middle of summer vacations. It is the end of May.
Another 8AM rush. She woke up to a similar sound, and like a drill, ran to the road and shouted for the vendor.
“Arey faalsey Kahaan Hai?”
[Hey, why aren’t you selling any Falsa?]
“Khatam. Ab yeh jamun milenge.”
[Because they are over. Now is the season for jamun]
“Par abhi toh aapne bola kaale faalsey”
[But, didn’t you just shout-out that you are selling black-sour Falsa?]
“Nahi beta, kaaley Jamun.”
[No, I was shouting black-sour jamun].
Bhaiya (seller) was the same, the contents of the basket were not.
“Dadi, no more faalsey?”
“Faalsey sirf ek mahine ke liye aate hain, May mein.”
[The season of Falsa only lasts for one month and that is May]
“Toh fir ab?”
[What we do now?]
“Ab kuch nahi. Agle saal ki wait karo!”
[Wait for the next year!].
