The D Day was one of the worst ever. True I had enjoyed all the attention but then everything else was a no-no. I wasn’t allowed to gulp a glass of water let alone eat a bit. The day started in a rather shaky manner. After going deep into the night, playing with cousins, it felt rude to be woken up fairly early in the morning. So early, that the sun didn’t shine for at the least until a couple of hours more. And there I was bathed, powdered to the core on some funny smelling homemade cosmetic. And by the time I reached the homa-kundam, I guess I smelled and looked like a volcano spewed upon child ashen with sleep deprivation. And unfortunately, I didn’t know the mantra yet.

My father and uncle were already with the pundits and I sat down. The pundit gave me a mango tree leaf that was swaddled with molten ghee. Most of the others were awake as well. My mom, draped around by sari that made her look at the least twice her normal size, stood alongside me and my dad. The fire pit was half under fire spewing smoke that cut my half closed eyelids like a crystal edged icicle poking the skin. Another pundit used dried dung to ward the smoke away from me. Little help it did.

The main Pundit (oh! there were four of them) kept pouring more and more of the molten ghee into fire causing it to swell upwards. I was worried if the roof would catch some of it (I didn’t know then that concrete wouldn’t catch fire unless with some help of imflammable/inflammable substances – in fact that was one of the reasons I deliberated more in the field of chemistry than any other academic pursuit). The second pundit (the one who, in vain, attempted to draw the smoke away from my eyes) kept mumbling instructions to me. And I was supposed to repeat after the main guy – de - honours. Heck, I didn’t even speak the same language he did. In fact I didn’t even know if anybody did. In fact I didn’t even know such a language existed (later on ofcourse, it was a mandatory subject of study at high school – give away: so I did make it to the high school after all). But the drool of his lips and tongue gave a weird rhythmic sound which I calibrated to the extent I could. But this went on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on.

.. on and on for until for a couple of hours at the least. I am not even sure if I fell asleep mid-way. I might have been because my father at times looked irritatedly at me. Maybe it was the Pundit. He might have been driving my dad mad too. Why? Why wouldn’t they just tell me the mantra and be done with it? I looked to my left side (to my right was my father) and saw my grandfather -serious and yet relaxed. He’s seen it all. He’s done it all. Was he a super hero too? Was my father a super hero as well? Wow this presented a new comic book altogether. Only then, I completely trusted the comics. Phantom, Superman, Spiderman, Batman, Flash Gordon, Mandrake, the Flying Robot and many more. They had to be real. They were photographed after all. Wasn’t that what comics were all about? Photographs/Images of their heroic deeds!

I was nudged into wakefulness. That was my elder brother. When I become a superhero I would get him too. That was soon after Mani. Oh! My brother could be a super hero too. Uhm! Another reverie. And more rudeness. This time about, it was the second pundit. He gave me a ladle and asked me to join the main guy in adding fuel to the fire in front of us. I did as I was told to. This guy was scary. Guess I would go after him too. Only wait till they teach me the mantra.

And all along, I’d been hungry. When you wake up early, you are always hungry. Why wasn’t I given my morning dose of Horlicks and fruits. I felt thirsty. And lo! the smell of the feast in preparation rung my nostrils and my head did a funny little dance that the world would never know.

I saw day break. The early morning sunshine, filtering through the coloured curtains. Tiny holes in the curtain made the seeping light create disco effects on the floor. It seemed surreal. Wow! May be this was a sign. Hunger and thirst forgotten for a while,  I fell back into a reverie. Only to be rudely woken again. But this time, the time had come.

“Stand up”, the second pundit said. My legs felt weak and numb. And I did on what felt like elastic legs. Maybe this was the beginning of the transformation.

“Turn to the south and repeat the mantra”, said the second one again. And I did.

Then came north and more mantra. Then came back to square one and I had to squat this time and repeat the tirade. And I did. Then I sat down again (under instructions). Now what was this? I almost felt that was it and now more stuff to do. And that was so true. And then began a new set of chants. More ghee fuelling the fire. More smoke in my eyes. I was tired. Hungry. Thirsty.

A little later however, a funny thing happened. The second pundit gave me a thread. It was knotted at both the ends. The thread made of three different strings and looped into one complete cycle. And I had it planted across both my knees – end to end. More chants. More mumbles. More non-sense. And then the main pundit asked me to wear the thread. Over my head and from the left shoulder, across the chest and tummy – unlike a “maala”. This was like the way I used to wear my school bag – "shoulder bags", they used to call it then.

“This is a very sacred son”, the main pundit told me.

“Oh”, my response.

“You will wear it always. It would bring you health, wealth and prosperity and keep you happy always.” He said. And today, here I am using the net in the office, taking chai and sutta breaks and that on a valentine’s eve.

After a while, my grandfather (who sat to my left) got up and looked towards my ears. Coming in closer, he closed us up with his towel and began whispering something in my ears. It all happened asudden. Here was my grandfather telling me something. It had to be the mantra. Heck what was it? Why is he mumbling? Didn’t he know the importance of it all? Oh! Dear God. It was the same damn language. I was in my second grade. The mantra was atleast a few paragraphs long and in an alien language. Did he expect me to grab it all so fast? If I could mug that well, wouldn’t have I have been topping the class, instead of sitting through precious hours of post school hour classes and tuitions. And as suddenly he had got up, he sat down.

What a shame? That was it. All done and ended. Looking at the bright side, I hopefully didn’t have to attend school that day.

                                                                                    --tbc