Page 24 - Seniors Today - January Issue

and Trincas which offered sizzling cabaret
and where the gorgeous Pam Crain crooned
and a young Usha Uthup sang.
And what a scramble when they came
home, laden with hats, bugles and candy! My
favorite used to be a black mortarboard with
a shiny, tinselly and a rather lurid green-
coloured tassel. Packed off to bed with our
loot, we would lie wide awake, talking and
laughing. As years rolled by and we stepped
into our teens, music and soul-searching
late-night conversations took the place of
hats and tinsel. New Year’s Eves became
times to remember our triumphs and
missteps and think about coming days that
were ‘full of things that have never been.’
There was magic and miracle in those
nights of childhood. I recall us cousins
lying on recliners under star speckled skies
watching exploding fireworks and listening
to the sounds of boats and barges as they
sailed past the Hooghly.
A heart-warming feeling
Cold crisp Calcutta winter mornings; the
first of January. We would tumble out of our
beds and race to the garden, to eat breakfast
at lunchtime. No routine was enforced and
we were free, like wild things - spontaneous
and joyous. Some years that much-loved
Now isn’t that just irresistible?
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When the radio played song requests, it was a thrilling
moment to hear one’s name announced
New Year’s Day ritual was celebrated amid
much mirth and jokes - Dads cooking in the
garden with Mums hovering around trying
to be helpful but not really succeeding.
It was a calm and comfortable time with
people we loved, a heart-warming feeling
that came from finding pleasure in small,
ordinary moments of everyday life and
making them meaningful and special.
Calcutta New Year’s Day races were where
swish set and old money mingled with
glamorous celebrities. We loved seeing Dads,
smart in their matching ties and pocket
squares, Mums with flowers in their buns.
And as they readied to leave, we would burst
into song, singing at the top of our voices,
that unofficial anthem of the counterculture
movement of the 1960s – “If you’re going to
San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers
in your hair” - replacing San Francisco with
“the Races”
A canopy of stars and scattered clouds
covered us as we sat late into cold nights,
snug and warm in big sweaters, drinking
hot chocolate. Time would move slowly
and meanderingly, as parents would regale
us with spine-tingling ghost stories and
their charming and nostalgic bachpan ki
kahaniyaan. Living on the river has its own
charms. Boatloads of revellers, silhouetted