It was the Bengali New Year (naba borsho) on Monday.
Went for my last Cal Walk, with Philip and Almut, early in the morning. Purba came along for the training. It went well and I walked more than usual, taking in sights I don't always cover. Saw my first ever Charak hook-swinging and was that ever an experience! Came home, cooked some keema kofta curry in coconut milk (recipe courtesy Aunty Hy's lessons), made lunch and ate it. Bathed. Got dressed and nagged V's clients (Ifte and Pritish, so I refuse to be formal) into leaving so that we could go out -- a whole hour later than I'd hoped to leave.
Wore the pretty cream and blue tangail that Linnetpishi gifted me on my wedding. So many sarees waiting to be worn for the first time. So many blouses need stitching. Rahul looked as handsome as ever in a blue t-shirt and shorts set from his mashidimma (my mum's sister); I'm inclined to think his father beat him, though, in the handsome stakes in his plain white kurta-pajamas. V's parents had gifted us clothes but since mine was a t-shirt, I preferred to wear it to work today and wore a new sari on Monday instead. Rahul's clothes were a mite on the small side so he didn't wear his gift either. I'd bought him three new vests to wear at home because my parents asked me to buy him something for Poila Baisakh. (1st Baisakh, i.e. New Year.) He wore one of those all day.
Visited Mukherjee jethima. All the sweet shops in our area were cleaned out by 6 p.m. so bought some shonpapdi from Ganguram's at Golpark only to remember an hour later that she is diabetic. How idiotic. My parents would never make a faux pas like that. Must hold this fatal flaw in my upbringing against them.
The dinner at Jodhpur Park afterwards was nice. Pleasant and the grandparents were delighted to have R to themselves for a whole evening. My father-in-law has come up with a new line of defense. Whenever anybody protests against him handing R a Swiss army knife, or a lighter or some such equally suitable toy, he insists that R won't put it into his mouth or chew on it or break it because "he doesn't do such things now, I watch him carefully and I've noticed, he stopped doing such things when he was younger, he's very careful now and only wants to see how things work." I've offered to make the two grandfathers two t-shirts saying "My Grandson is a Genius". That seems to be their general philosophy.
Between them, he and V's mother had arranged for a hugely varied dinner for R. Two kinds of curds, payesh, fish, dal and rice and a little coconut pudding. There may well have been other stuff I cannot remember. Mosambis lay around in case His Bhabletness wished for a little juice. Dinner was great. Not because of the food, cos I've got into the habit of expecting great stuff when V's mother cooks, but also because his father liked my kofta curry and asked to keep the leftovers. Right now, he's so deep into my good books, you couldn't dig him out with a trowel. V's mother and I compared rueful notes on how she couldn't help but cook rich stuff while I can't cook anything but super-light dishes no matter how hard I try. Like I said, good times.
The brother-in-law was in town and came away from his friends now and then to fraternise with the family. He's a good man. An idiot but an idiot I'm very fond of. And I'll never forget how he bravely waded into the mess in the early months of our marriage and tried to make things better. Showed way more sense and understanding than his [even more] idiot sibling ever has done.
Niyogy père disappeared with R for a bit and reappeared with the latest Outlook from the letterbox downstairs. For me. For the record, I also suspect he did this to get some private time with his understanding grandson, away from the interfering family, but -- I'm awfully touched.
We came home tired and late.
The next evening we spent with Gayatri-Andi-Tara. After buying R some very nice sandals (which unfortunately squeak but hey, nothing's perfect), we had momos and girly chat at Golf Green. Another late and tired night.
And it's one tonight. Good night, all.