Jun 14, 2006 03:53 AM
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I have always remembered myself to be an NRI and still am. I always get thrilled on the thought of visiting my homeland, India during my summer vacations. Those thoughts of my village, my sweet grand mother, my cousins much naughtier than me, my cute little pup Bittu always made me thrill and excited even before a month of my departure.
But what awaited me the most was Pappu Uncle’s small little chocolate shop. Pappu Uncle wasn’t acquainted to me but when everyone back home eagerly waited for our arrival, what I used to dream was about my visit to Pappu Uncle. Pappu Uncle, was a man of around 50, though he only looked much older than that, having a bald head and grey moustache. He always looked the same every year I met him. He was thin and fragile, he almost looked like he was going to fall down but he never even caught a cold { I can assure you that because every time I phone my grandmother she used to answer me he was fine even before I questioned her. She knew that was an expected question from my side}. Pappu Uncle never married, I never asked him why and he lived in a small house consisting of two rooms attached to his shop.
I was never a person who collected pocket money; I never felt the importance for it. Every day when I was in my village I used to do small chores for my grand mother along with my two cousins like cleaning the floor, sweeping the garden, going to the market, washing dishes and all others that a girl of my age could do. It was fun when all of us worked hard to receive the tip form our granny by the end of the day. We never had to think twice about how to spend our earnings, with great speed we used to rush to Pappu Uncle’s shop which had all the chocolates any one could imagine for. Pappu Uncle’s shop wasn’t huge or new but it always sensed of warmth and care. It was just a shop with bamboo leaves that covered its roofs, a lot many old and clean glass jars filled with a variety of chocolates and candies and a few chairs for people to sit {There were hardly much customers for Pappu Uncle and it always amazed me to think how uncle earned his living with such a poor sale}.
Pappu Uncle and I shared a strong bonded relationship. He always called me ‘Chintu’ in a very comical manner. I was never offended or irritated by it cause I knew it was all out of affection. I used to imagine why he called me that, later for which I concluded that, may be it was because I was the youngest of my cousins. My favourite chocolates were 5 star, Kit Kat and Diary Milk and each day I used to feed on any one of them. We always spend our evenings with Pappu Uncle and his chocolates and each day has always been memorable in my life {I have jotted them all in my diary}. Once all three of us choose our confectionary for the day, Pappu Uncle and we sit on the ground and he would begin narrating so many wonderful tales. We never knew if it was his own story or whether he had heard them from somewhere but I have never in my life experienced listening to some one better than him. Pappu Uncle always ended his story with suspense or a mystery for us to think and the enthusiasm used to drive us for the next evening to appear.
Pappu Uncle’s chocolates always tasted different, they always had a better aroma. I never got the same satisfaction from a 5 star or any other chocolate brought from a different shop and it still continues to be the same. That might sound funny but I started realizing that only after the heavy lose of Pappu Uncle and his chocolate shop. Pappu Uncle died of a bus accident the year before last. It was completely shocking and I still remember crying out loud with all my heart over the phone when my grand mother told me. The government acquired his land as he had not written his property for anyone and broke down his shop and home.
I went to India last year with no zeal and vigor. I knew the sweet reward for my chores can never be sweeter than usual. After a few days I decided to stroll a walk over where Pappu Uncle’s shop stood just to polish my memories. I was only surprised to find that now in place of the sweet shop stood a bakery baring the name “PAPPU’S BAKERY SHOP”. Wasn’t that truly coincidental?
