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Growing up with Cousin Kill Joy

14/10/2011

19 Comments

 
Picture
Memory 1
It’s summer time in Lansdowne. The hydrangeas are in full blue bloom. The bumble bees are bumbling along. There’s a nice warm sun smiling outside the house. Inside, temperatures are close to freezing. My 18-year-old long haired, long nosed cousin, referred to in family circles as The Genius (he shares a birth date with me – few years removed - but that’s about it), is fingering a copy of Times of India in Nanaji’s torture chamber with the multiple glass windows that overlooks the red-roofed houses of lesser mortals further down the slope. Nanaji (wrapped in his thick-as-a-carpet tweed housecoat, secured around his ample waist by a tasseled rope) is sprawled at a gravity-defying 120 degrees in his easy chair. He looks at me from behind glasses most definitely thicker than the window pane behind him. “Bhaisahab ka jootha khaya karo, shayad un jaise ban sako”, he says with biting sarcasm. I have effortlessly managed to score zero out of ten in his quick fire round of news based questions which (immediately after my humiliating failure) The Genius has answered staccato while simultaneously breathing on his fingernails. Taking a quick step forward I whip off Nanaji’s tassled housecoat rope and twist it a few times around that long neck (in my mind). In fact, I slink out of the room, tail tucked between the legs.

Memory 2 
Another summer vacation. Same scene as Memory 1 with Nanaji sprawled on easy chair at similar tilt, a natty tweed cap pulled low over his forehead. The Genius is missing but his arrival in Lansdowne is awaited. To my delight he is late – a crime second only to bad handwriting/ not being able to spell Nadia Comaneci's surname in Nanaji’s Book of Criminal Procedure. Eventually, he arrives.
Nanaji: Kyun bhai, tumhari ghadi mein kai baj rahe hain? 
A big clock hanging right beside Nani’s favourite calendar decorated with Shivji in tiger skin, a crescent moon in his knotted hair and the Ganga sprouting from somewhere around, shows the time as 4 pm, many hours  beyond when The Genius should have arrived home.
 Kill Joy: Nanaji, ham Kotdwar se paidal hi aa gaye, socha bus tikat ke do rupaye bacha lenge. (I walked so that I could save Rs 2 on the bus ticket)
There are shock waves in the room – the unbelievable jerk has walked 20 plus kms to save two rupees. We (riffraff of school-going cousins hanging around in the hope that The Genius is going to get a dressing down today) look at each other sadly. Hope dies silently. From the glint in Nanaji’s nau-nambar ke chashme I know he hears deafening APPLAUSE. The snake victoriously slithers off to the kitchen to swallow a samosa sandwich and some jalebi dunked in milk. “Bhaisahab se kuch seekho. Paisa ped par nahin ugta, uski kadr samjho,” (Money does not grow on trees, realize its value, learn from him) says Nanaji, scalding the rest of the brood of us idiot spendthrifts with a nasty half smile. Kill Joy emerges from the kitchen wiping a spot of sweet chutni from his chin, licks it off his finger and heads back for the torture chamber balancing a cup of steaming hot tea for Nanaji.
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If your tastes run into sadism and you were enjoying these painful episodes, the fun is over my friend. I’m going to stop reminiscing right here because if I continue to squint my eyes and think back on all the childhood memories I have of Cousin Kill Joy, I leave myself unprotected against nightmares that  wake me up middle of the night with gaspy breath and sweaty palms. He was this infuriating genius who knew it all (from who was India’s first Vice President to the words of the Preamble to how many spokes there are in the Ashoka Chakra to complicated maths equations to world politics to which record the Carpenters were coming out with next). He was this God on Earth reborn in our family to vanquish morons like me by stopping their air supply by having their noses rubbed in the mud in Nanaji’s bageecha. He was this incredible superman who would lead us gaggle of cousins on calf muscle knotting walks to the Pani ki Tanki, half way to Jaiharikhal; get us back in time for some “baagwani” and then trail us to the dining table for a brunch of manduve ki roti and hara namak. And while the rest of us scrambled to cover the butter on our plates with our rotis, he would be found eating just that when Nanaji came spying on us to ensure healthy zero cholesterol diets, his laathi clicking on the wooden floor.

Kill Joy was a pain to grow up with. I wouldn’t wish an elder brother like him, even on a sworn enemy, unless I really hated them. Nothing I did was good enough (not that I ever did much), never could I match up to this gifted genius, never was I as bright, as quick witted or as enterprising as him. Never could I get as many gold medals in Physics. Though I’d like to blame the last on the fact that I never had physics as a subject. He was even forgiven that horrible Vinod Khanna meets Mithun Chakravarty hairdo he kept through his growing years which I’m sure made Nanaji shudder privately though he did get the flak once for keeping his top shirt button open with a “kya tum lafange ho?” which made me walk around with a song on my lips for a week. But other than that I don’t think The Genius ever made a mistake in life. The world came to a standstill because he was studying for his IAS prelims. Even my animal loving mom smiled indulgently when he cold bloodedly boiled the eggs of roosting pigeons to pay them back for crapping on his books. He was evil. He was a pain. He was an ugly blot on my beautiful childhood.

But like they say, time heals all wounds. Some years back, he called from half-way across the world to patiently explain to me how planes were changed, and assured me I wouldn’t get left behind anywhere, when stomach churning nervous I was making my first foreign trip alone. And then I remembered that he had bought me a Cross writing instrument and tossed it at me casually when I was thinking of becoming a writer once upon a time. He has indulged in other acts of repentance that I wouldn’t want to embarrass him with now. But in the past few years, I’ve noticed that when I have a life altering question to ask he is often the one I mail my query to, confident in the knowledge that I will get a quick mail back, irrespective of his work responsibilities or time zones. Believe it or not, I’m almost fond of him now. The fact that he reads my blog dutifully might have something to do with that though. 

Bhaisahab ka jootha khaya karo, shayad un jaise ban sako: Eat his leftovers, maybe you'll become like him; Kyun bhai, tumhari ghadi mein kai baj rahe hain: Brother, what's the kind by your watch; nau-nambar ke chashme: Number nine reading glasses
19 Comments
chotu
14/10/2011 03:14:29 pm

okay. sometimes u should take ur time and relax and then write. Most of these writers run out of ideas after sometime and then keep gropping in the dark. For ex Robin Cook is making a fool of himself with his latest series of novels

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BIG B JB
14/10/2011 03:14:59 pm

Another heart touching article....cousin's relation is really love and hate types...at tender age we perceive something whereas when matured..analytic mind and rational approach justify all answers/questions...they are the silent well wishers and bond is really beautiful...they are the extension of our family who shares all joys and sorrows without any reward...they tell us the actual roots of or family...No family is complete without such relations.....sarcasm turns into admirations...this theory holds good here... today's world people are getting self centred and detached from such beautiful bondings but remember when during summer holidays everyone is reaching at Nana's place..masti..dhamaal and sharing of so many feelings...actually that is the essence of Family...true family.... without such relations we are like just wild animals ....live for only self.... enjoyed your article and down the memorylane do missing my "Friend"/brothers/sisters......loved it....

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deepak gera
14/10/2011 04:32:42 pm

I am sorry...to all my cousins.....jyoti, seema, vibha, vimi, abha, tanu, suman, manu, guddu, chintoo, hunny, vicky, rinku, nannu, neena.........Rachna kya likh diya ...now i feel i was KILL JOY.....please allow me to send this post to all who suffered...they all are very loving to me today...and i have a perfect bond with them......but i enjoyed this Killer privilege...for long...on their cost...sorry to all once again...

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RITEN
14/10/2011 05:22:52 pm

I would rate this as one of your best stories, believe me,I enjoyed every word visualizing how despite admiration there was this comical threat of cold comparison all the time.In fact, in everyone’s growing years,there has been a Tom Cruise/Aishwarya Rai-esq figure looming large,it is intriguing to see what next is this guy going to do.
I am dying to read the rejoinder from Mahinder,(You better create one now if there is no one like that.Can’t trust authors and their fertile imaginations. Am curious to know how he viewed you Brats(Potential Biographers).Now surely,Rachna,you must have been a role model to many too,so how have you played this life threatening personality impact matters- it calls for a novel,not a short story.Absolutely amazing with many zings,the undercurrent of Pain but adorable wonderfully written.Keep at it.

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Jhoomar
15/10/2011 05:10:09 am

Enjoyed readin it!! Come to think of it, memory of the extra-large omletttes that Nanaji would specially order for KJ still rankles!!
But the bigger question is whether growing up under the shadows of a larger personality has a detrimental or positive effect? I would like to believe it is the latter....

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Prithvi
15/10/2011 10:59:41 am

Lesson for all elder cousins (including me) - beware of younger cousins who could end up becoming writers :)

Loved it !

Also, wonderful pic ! Manoj's new lens ?

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RITEN
15/10/2011 02:03:23 pm

C'mon, KJ/ U can do better than offering a humble sorry.Just think hard and come out with the crunch instances,Nanaji was sold out on U,U had a rep to protect.There is more to mass adulation/hatred than meets the eye.Isn't it.

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manoj
15/10/2011 05:09:23 pm

You have the answer in you. Effect of his strong personality/childhood torture has turned you into a beautiful writer.

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Anisha
19/10/2011 03:44:11 am

Ha ha, was good fun reading it. Thankfully my KJ cousin didn't live that close to my Nanaji's house so the infrequent torture was much bearable.. hey but see, maybe that's why i just can't write :-)
But your Nanajis strong personality between asking to fetch the famous Lal Jhanghia(older blog) and quizzing you guys with GK ques, does remind me a lot of my Nanji.. Keep it up Rachna :-)

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Swapan Lahiri
19/10/2011 11:37:05 pm

Enjoyed every line of your story especially the cute apology from your KJ cousin after reading your article.

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Ritha Hegde
20/10/2011 12:01:33 am

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Ritha Hegde link
20/10/2011 12:05:50 am

You have freezing temperature in Lansdowne even in summer? Wow!
It was a nice dig to your old days.
I had little cousins who were real genius. I remember I felt bad about it when I failed in front of them...I did not want to kill my cousins, but wanted to kill the person who made me feel crap. Coz the moment the elder person was gone, we were buddies again playing in our own world.

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RITEN
21/10/2011 03:56:05 pm


The institution of Nanaji has over the years become de-recognised from the Deemed University status they enjoyed.No one seems to have the patience and time for his 33rpm talk,mothers have organised the schedule of their brats, from Guitar to Yoga to Maths with Riding and gliding thrown in for 3 D effect//where does poor nanaji figure now.Whats the status in small towns.
When we become nanajis,we surely will have an imaginary audience//lucky ones will grab one TV for Aastha channel I suppose. Cousins are hard to meet too.
Calls for a satire on the situation,Rachna.

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noopur
27/10/2011 05:30:33 pm

Ha ha I see Killjoy has not yet commented :) he is usually the first one to do that despite his super busy globetrotting lifestyle and sometimes his comments are as long as your writeup :)Good one Rachna Bisht !!!!

Reply
Y S rawat
6/11/2011 11:49:34 pm

Yet another good one Rachna. I can nearly see what you have written because we grew up in that house. He was also once ticked off by Nanaji for wearing a coloured stripped ‘T’ shirt. Your ‘long haired (?) cousin’ was not such a villain but perhaps juvenile jealousy may have made it appear that way. Nanaji’s discipline had its advantages that we realized much later in life. I remember Bijai bhai at Kotdwara once asked me if I ever considered bringing up children in the environment that we grew up in! It was perhaps not possible then or more so now because it needed tremendous discipline and sacrifices on the part of parents that perhaps we ourselves were not ready for. He had that aura around him that commanded a mix of respect and fear from all that I know of. We never dared to sit in his presence or speak to him. In his later years, I remember once your mother wrote to me during summer holidays at Lansdowne, ‘ Pitaji aaj kal hamain baithate hain aur humse baaten karte hain’.
I had once recorded interview of father at Munni Maus’s flat in Curzen Rd Apartment. Its on a audio cassette. Quality of recording is poor but I am looking for some body to convert in into CD. If I ever manage to do it, I will pass on a copy to you also. Its worth listening.

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Mahendra
11/11/2011 10:26:49 pm

This Killjoy must have been a pain to spend a summer vacation with, I suspect he has had (later in his life) similar feedback from his wife, daughter and colleagues.

But Nanaji's discpline + his library did have a big impact on KJ. Especially the Children's Encyclopedia, which made KJ think about countries outside India....and how interesting it would be to vist them one day

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Tanu
12/11/2011 02:08:13 pm

first i grow up being intimidated by one kill joy, then i end up marrying another who takes up from where the first one left off. Seems i am destined to have these "know it alls around" me all the time! But the good news is that Thanks to the exposure to the first one in my formative years, the second one doesn't bother me at all.........yet another point in favour of cousin kiljoy!!!!!
As for walking 20 km to save 2 bucks, if you remember the details of our first visit to you in bangalore, you would agree that the resembelance is uncanny.
So its nice to know that dadaji would have thouroughly approved of the man i married......!

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Erika Negi
14/11/2011 05:26:13 pm

I really like reading your blogs! :D They're all written so nicely.

This is one of the rare moments where I can learn about the childhood of KJ! :)

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sunil rawat
3/12/2011 11:28:09 pm

This one is simply BRILLIANT!!!

...i just luvd the "kya tum lafange ho" part...which made u walk around with a song on ur lips for an entire WEEK!!!

Keep up the gud work di!! :)

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    Rachna Bisht Rawat is a full time mom and part time writer. She is married to an Army officer whose work takes the family to some of the most interesting corners of India.

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