Diwali with Amma

Illustration/Uday Mohite

My Diwali bonus this year was spending three days over the Diwali weekend with Amma, Indu Shedde. What I love about spending time with Amma, who is 95 and lives in Panvel, two hours from Bombay, is that time stands absolutely still. First, my WiFi connection there is very dicey, so it immediately means I can't regularly work/check emails/ watch films. This can be frustrating - or a blessing.

I was deeply humbled and honoured when Amma agreed to let me give her a Diwali "head bath". It is an affirmation of deep trust. I see how vulnerable, yet feisty, my body can be if and when I get to her age. Also, it allows me to notice that her ankles are red with scratches, of which she is unaware. Amma wears her favourite, elegant blue and white sari for Diwali. It took me years to persuade her to switch from a sari to a practical nightgown/daygown/housecoat - India's national costume; even now, she still wears the sari all by herself.

It was an amazing weekend. In the lovely Ram-Vitthal temple nearby, a "Deepgandha" event had been organised, with a Hindustani classical music recital by Takahiro Arai, a remarkably gifted Japanese Santoor player. Disciple of the late Pt Shivkumar Sharma, he coaxed delicate notes and meends from his santoor. Amma, who trained in Hindustani vocal classical music, and has performed on All India Radio and given public concerts, was delighted. When Araiji played, I was transported to Kashmir, under a cascade of musical notes. In the audience was also Wonseok Jang, a Korean musician who plays the Surbahar (gosh, gosh!). A lavish, Konkani-style Diwali lunch followed, served on kelipan (banana leaf), with sambar, rice, mor-kolombo, bendi, mirchi bhajiya, Diwali faral box and more.

All day there is birdsong, butterflies, and chittering squirrels who get first dibs on the chikoos in the grove. In the mornings and evenings, Amma and I go for walks in the garden. I read her a chapter from the book Asa Bal Gandharva, in Marathi, that I had got her: she is a big fan of his, had personally met him when she did theatre as a young woman in Dharwar, and got his autograph. I also have a soft corner for him, as I did the English sub-titles for Ravi Jadhav's superb film Bal Gandharva in Marathi. An early 21st century Natya Sangeet singing-acting theatre star, Bal Gandharva was also famous as a cross-dresser, and as a young fan, Amma followed all his saris and blouse patterns like a hawk!

Amma is now teaching me the lovely abhang in Marathi, Zhala Mahar Pandharinath, referring to a miracle where Lord Pandurang took the form of a low caste Mahar. It's a lovely abhang exchange: earlier, I had taught her Lahanpana dega deva, mungi sakharecha rawa (Lord, grant me littleness, the ant is thrilled with just a grain of sugar). Later, we do masti, singing together old songs from her fave films, Main ban ke chidiya from Achhut Kanya (directed by the German Franz Osten, 1936, with Devika Rani and Ashok Kumar), which Amma saw as a nine-year-old, at Vijay Talkies, Dharwar. And Jhoole Ke Sang Jhoolo, from the film Jhoola 1941, with Leela Chitnis and Ashok Kumar.

At twilight, we light earthen diyas, as Pooja, Amma's caretaker, makes beautiful rangolis. I hang up a paper akashbutti with beautiful jaliwork that I bought, instead of those cheap plastic Chinese lanterns: shouldn't our purchases be supporting small Indian entrepreneurs instead of Chinese plastic pushers?

We passed Amma's favourite jackfruit tree that, in season, had some 20 jackfruits growing out of its trunk, so low and fat, that Amma would fondly pat them ‘good morning' as she passed. The trunk is bare now; the fruit harvested. We have to wait for the next season. Such is the circle of life.

Meenakshi Shedde is India and South Asia Delegate to the Berlin International Film Festival, National Award-winning critic, curator to festivals worldwide and journalist.
Reach her at meenakshi.shedde@mid-day.com