My Nani's House

Tonight, I am missing my Naniama. I am missing her home. I am missing the atmosphere that was in it. 

My Naniama's house was a haveli...is, as it still exists. It has the most ornate ceilings, doors, jharokas, quaint balconies, a gallery, decorated fireplaces and huge rooms. The colours on the walls are soft greens and yellows. 

The best part of getting to the house was walking through the galliyaan and then climbing two very steep flights of stairs to get to the first floor. That's where the family lived. 

The house always was full of life and activity. The kitchen was busy, with wonderful smells coming from it. My Mami was the best cook and so hospitable. She would never let you leave without eating. Secretly, you would wish she did serve you food even if out politeness you would be saying no in formality. It was always that good. 

What I miss, and loved, seeing was that as soon as I would climb those steep stairs, my Naniama would come out of her room and greet me. Just to see her face smiling and her saying " Ageyi ho?" with a hug was everything. Inside, my Nanaji would be sitting on his bed, watching TV. In the other room, Mamu would be relaxing, home from his Police duty. 

And cousins...the banter and gupshup would go on and on. They would try and finish their chores so we could go to Moti Bazaar for shopping. One cousin would be dusting, another would be sweeping the floors, with the other ironing clothes. Everyone had a job to do. 

And as afternoon would come, I would go onto the roof and see the different sides of 'Pindi. The Maghrib azaan happened, birds flew home, a PIA plane flew over the big cinema billboard sign and so much noise from Murree Road's traffic, sounds of horns and motorbikes. An unforgettable melody. 

Dinner time would come, and we'd sit around on the floor, waiting for hot chappattis to be served with Mami's yummy chicken salan, karah masala gosht and pulau.

And then TV time. It was also the time, where we would pull out the bedding, razais and pillows to all sleep on the floor. We would snuggle in and keep warm while watching some drama on TV. 

Being served hot milk, would be the last ritual of the night. It was strange at first to taste buffalo milk but I got used to it. 

And then lights out with the zero watt bulb, a red or green glow. Just faint enough to see. And then the giggling, the scary story telling and someone falling asleep first. 

Tonight, all of this has come back to me. I so wish I could relive this, but it's not possible to. It'll never be. But tonight, there's an ache for it. Just to hear those voices again, the smells, the sounds of laughter. To see those faces again. To visit it again as a teenager. To go back to Pindi 1984/85.