Throughout history, pachisi was the ‘poor man’s chaupar’. But to my grandmother, whose childhood pachisi grids were scribbled in chalk, my grandfather’s novelty board — like rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and pearls sewn together — seemed no less regal. “She embroidered each bead herself,” she tells me, looking back at the outbursts, meltdowns, and amusement this game brought to my grandparents’ living room 60 years ago. “I guess she’d be your great-great-grandmother”.
Palagai or Palavai, like it is called colloquially, is a wooden plank which was used as a reading and writing material for Arabic language in the provincial town of Kayalpatnam, Tamil Nadu. It was used actively until the turn of the 21st century by the Palli-going kids in the town. Palli translates to ‘school’ and ‘mosques’ in Tamil. But in Kayalpatnam it has also got another meaning. A Palli is a private residence or a public place where reading classes in Arabic are given to young kids as small as three year olds.
One of the few remnants of my family’s connection with erstwhile Burma (now Myanmar), is a lacquerware box, an inheritance from my maternal grandmother. When my mother, Manimegalai, got married, the box was a part of her dowry and is well over 80 years old.
My grandmother recalled how my grandfather had actually bought these glasses in the mid 1970s from a shop in Pragati Maidan, Delhi. At the time, there were two sets of six glasses each – of one set, now four remain and of the second set, there is only one left. Classically meant for brandy, my grandfather and great-grandfather used to drink whisky in them.
This Chunni or nose ring found its way to Bombay on the nose of its fiery, feisty owner, Lakshmibai Chhabria. She continued to wear it even after she lost her husband, her eldest son and her land of birth, all with one single Partition line, lakeer, as they call it in our family.
