Nani Villa

I was packing some sandwiches, that I had generously buttered on both sides and then layered with lots of cucumbers making them delicious. Quickly I plucked as many as 10/12 big plums and hurriedly walked up to our college. Once in a while, I used to ask Maa to make the stuffed parathas and pack them in a big tiffin box to attend the extra history classes.

For us, Dr. Bagchi's history class was essential. A small group of boys and girls who used to travel from distant places favored staying at the college rather than returning home and then coming back. Most of our classes ran from 3 to 4.30 p.m. We looked forward to the extra classes every other day. Since our house was close to the college and we were five, we had an opportunity to bring tiffin and share it. The campus canteen was another place where Hari Kaka used to prepare the unique "masala chai."

 

One late in the afternoon as I walked back home, I saw Dad’s scooter parked outside the gate. Dad usually used to come home between 5.30 to 6 o'clock and today why so early? I took big steps to cover the lane and opened the mighty gate. I saw Dad with his wide-brim hard hat peering, looking closely at something. One of the construction workers was trying hard to show him the colored chip stones displayed on the temporary wooden table in trays, but nothing seemed to please Dad.

Maa had often summoned him over for tea, but nothing seemed to work. Our home's roof had a gable on top of the backside. I went to investigate the situation. There were tiny trays filled with chips of various colors of stone. Then I witnessed the skilled worker pushing his bicycle hard to get to the gate. He swiftly removed the unique, vibrant stone chips he had purchased from his leather pouch. Dad was intrigued to see the Prussian blue and warm yellow/orange chips while he was displaying them.

Ultimately the colors were chosen and were pastel cream stone chips for the background and the house name Prussian blue and warm/orange chips. It was then Dad told me that both the grandmothers share the same name. Paternal grandmother’s name, Smt. Noni Bala and maternal grandmother's name, Smt. Niva Noni. So, Noni was common, and Dad decided to name our house, ‘Nani Villa’.

Thereafter when the work was finished, Dad had so much satisfaction on his face. There was a lamppost where the lane ended and many a time when Dad used to come home from office I saw him stop his scooter and look at the name written as the light fell on 'Nani Villa'. One day he told me both mothers had blessed the house and as many times different people took the name, ‘Nani Villa’ the mothers smiled.

‘So much faith, Dad’.