(Plump) Apple of My Eye

Even as I fight an internal battle on whether to write on the Plump Apple or My Eye first, I know the answer. Its almost a crime to talk about anything else when there exists the intriguing Plump Apple!
Fiction can never surpass God (or my Nanaji and Nanima, strictly technically speaking) in creating a character like her's, of that I am sure.
Why do I say that, eh? You will soon find out...

Marriages...have always had me mesmerized! Perhaps the only reason they fascinate me even today is because I am yet to attend my own wedding! Nonetheless, like many others of my fraternity, I have nurtured a grand dream of that red letter day of my life. The coy bride with the heavy wedding dress, the havan in the mandap, the happy faces around, the anticipation, and the groom too somewhere... it secretly gave me a thrill!

But alas! I could never be the coy bride! Even with the rest of my dream coming true! Moreover, it was a tad unfair to expect me to be, with the silent, traditional, typical mother by the side of the bride and MY mother, a.k.a (to me) the Plump Apple by mine!

Ahh..so you think I am a cruel daughter? I urge you to indulge in a conversation with her, you would soon find out how utterly ridiculous she is and yet love her through every bit of her nonsensical ways. Of course I could be behind bars for describing her as graceful, petite and a social butterfly with fluttering eyelashes (even as a young girl..ohh..she was worse then!). Never too much into feminine desires of decking up herself, she was one day, as we were shopping, unable to fathom if a particular person standing at a distance was a man or a woman. Being a tomboy was different, being unidentifiable, something else. Well, she had a point. I looked closer. On my failed attempt I said one would have to look down in order to find out. Few moments into this, I was horrified when I followed her stare!!!
"Not that down, Ma."

You found a word for her yet? Allow me. Simply outrageous...well, to begin with!


It has been almost 30 years since she left her school. Her mentors and her friends no more there and yet her memories must still float in the school premise. She was a rare, rare sort even for the four walls of the school building! Its not everyday that a student submits a notebook with a torn cover to the principal, what more, with a sketch of modernized version of Gandhiji playing peek-a-boo from it! The short stylish cut of hair on the bald he otherwise sported, complete with a pair of glares and the boot cut pants very much in vogue in the 70's.. Very pleased with the sketch, Apple (she wasn't plump then) was disappointed that the principal was much aghast when he displayed her artistic talents to the rest of the school in the morning assembly.
As for Gandhiji, he wasn't present there to disclose if he would have reconsidered his styling options...and we can thank God for small mercies!


The senior classrooms where she went while still being in the primary, must not have forgotten her. It was within their walls that she scolded boys left right and front for dominating over her quiet and docile elder brother. Any bully nerve was set right immediately. No one dared say anything to her dada till she was around, zeroing down on them with her pair of accusing eyes. No doubt it is maddening for any dada to have his little sis come and fight for him, but then it was Apple- always for the underdog!

Or the guava tree that she happily climbed onto and ate fruits from, when she was asked to get out of a class..do you think it won't remember her?

And then why just the school? Even the backyard of her house would light up with the remembrance of the times when it played an abode to all the boiled eggs that were forced into Apple's mouth, only to be spitted out later. When the eggs were discovered in the mornings, Apple would only frown and wish fossils took a lesser time to come into existence!

There was never any tying down for the free spirited Apple. Once when the campus ladies were fuming with rage over a dowry case and saw nothing was being done about it, they decided to publicly insult the man in charge, a Professor of the same campus. "420" was written all over the entrance wall of his house, along with other glorious words. Thrilled by this, Apple assumed it gave her a license to do the same.
"Kutta" , she wrote on the wall in big bold letters, next to 420.

The fun was forgotten by Apple very soon, but not by the Professor. So, one evening when the kids were trying to climb on a certain tree, he came forward to offer help. It was a tall tree with no branches for quite a height of it, making help essential to climb up or even climb down the tree. Once the kids reached the top, it was time for the Professor to unveil the villain in him.
"Latkay raho ab"
He turned and left.

While other kids were terrified, Apple was worried too. Much too worried, in fact. 'What if no one finds us and we have to grow up here? Our clothes wont fit us any longer!' These were the kind of worries that surrounded only Apple.
Just for the record, the kids were brought down safely and the Professor was charged by the parents. But by now, even you would have known that that is not the point I was making.

Huddled together with her other brothers and sisters, Apple often listened to the stories read out by her father. One day he told his eldest daughter who was very affectionate and caring towards her siblings, that she would make a great mother. Curious, Apple (then 9) asked what about her. "You would be an unusual mother" her father said.

I quit my attempt of fitting her into any other adjective.
Unusual- that describes her the best!

All the beautiful people, the places and the memories unite together today to wish you a very Happy Birthday Ma! You know we love you.....why and how! :)