Of Dolls and Dolls

 The Beginning

I was barely two years old when I remember the first doll that I possessed. It was a rag doll made of old sarees, with a brown face and a beautiful, red, embroidered smile. She was called ‘Bonti’….my little companion. I lived then in a very small town near Silchar with my paternal aunt and her family. My aunt who was extremely fond of me, had offered to take care of me since my mother had her hands full with the birth of my younger brother. I was the pampered one, being the youngest in the house…..and, to keep me amused, I was presented with Bonti.

Bonti was my shadow…..she trudged along wherever I went…through the thick foliage behind our house where I would often go in search of wild berries, for that was what I would collect for Bonti’s lunch……to the little pond or pukur where sometimes, my cousin would catch fish, which would be my lunch…..to my Jethu’s house which was just a stone’s throw away, where the frogs croaked every evening as the lamps were lit and the conch was blown……to the photographer Dadu who enjoyed clicking me in my various moods…..Bonti and I were inseparable.

One for Photographer Dadu's camera......age 2 years(1962, Karimganj, Silchar)

1963 and back to my parents who had by then shifted to a small township in Orissa, followed by four years in a boarding school and dear, precious Bonti became a thing of the past, for she had somehow got left behind somewhere in transit……I never forgave myself for that and very often, dear Bonti’s red, embroidered smile haunted me in my childhood dreams. 

One day in school though, I was reminded of my dear Bonti when I came across the poem ‘The Lost Doll’ by Charles Kingsley…..sadly though, I never, ever found my dear Bonti again.

I’m sure many of you would’ve read the poem, but for those who haven't, I've reproduced it below.

The Lost Doll                        

I once had a sweet little doll, dears,

  The prettiest doll in the world;

Her cheeks were so red and white, dears,

  And her hair was so charmingly curled.

But I lost my poor little doll, dears,

  As I played in the heath one day;

And I cried for her more than a week, dears,

  But I never could find where she lay.

I found my poor little doll, dears,

  As I played in the heath one day;

Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,

  For her paint is all washed away,

And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears,

  And her hair not the least bit curled;

Yet for old sakes’ sake, she is still, dears,

  The prettiest doll in the world.

                                                  Charles Kingsley

Of Dolls and Dolls ..........Part 2

 The Creation

Chennai 1983

October 1983…………I look up expectantly as a nurse tip- toes into my room, holding the most beautiful baby girl in her arms……thick black hair on a head so perfectly round, blue eye shadow lining her big, brown eyes, above which are thick eyebrows so perfect in shape……a gorgeous creation………… “Has she just come in from a beauty parlour?” I muse, while I tenderly take her into my arms and hold her tight!

My mother enters and has just one thing to say:

“Your live doll, my dear, your very own doll, but…….don’t bathe her every time you feel hot!” (because that’s what I always did with my dolls in the past!)

Naushera, March 1984

And, how I treasure those memories of watching my little doll grow……….the milestones so painstakingly recorded in a creatively designed book made of chart paper…….her baby hand and foot prints, her first hair and nails preserved in a plastic pouch after they were cut, her first words, her first steps……….and the list goes on.

She was my doll for keeps, or so I thought, till one February evening we gave her away to her Prince Charming………….

Ms Innocence, Chennai 1992

Charming Twosome

Of Dolls and Dolls…………Part 3

A New Dawn

Baby Aanya: few hours old

Fast Forward to April 2011…………..I’m an expectant mother again!! This time, I’m waiting nervously outside the operation theatre…………..it’s 1030 hrs and a doctor walks out hurriedly carrying a little bundle swathed in a red blanket……..a mop of jet black hair peeps out of the bundle while a face all screwed up is held in front of me………….there’s no mistaking this beauty……….a grand little doll again!

Of Dolls and Dolls……………Part 4

The ‘Much-Missed’ Link

Lil' Miss Mischief, Chennai '92

How could I ever forget my second bundle of joy who’s tiny feet entered our home in August 1989, in a small army cantonment, way up in the Nilgiri Hills?

A thinly built baby with a shriek so shrill, it could wake up every slumbering nurse and ayah in the military hospital………….well, this one ensured she was fed on time, she certainly did!

While her elder sister played Mother Hen, fussing and fretting over her (she still does), this delightful little imp made certain she was always the centre of attraction!

Warm Hugs: Chennai 1992

Her tiny finger held on tightly to mine as we walked around the garden in front of our house………..she observed the flowers intently and asked innocently, “Who has put the colour in these flowers, Ma?”

I looked at my three year old in amazement………….she was a wonder!

Family Time: Dehradun, 1990

I wondered at her imagination when she saw dense fog for the first time one cold winter morning and exclaimed, “Dekho Didi, kitni malai!” (Just look at all the cream, Didi!). She was just six months past her third birthday.

Her strong fingers locked my trembling ones as she gave me one final hug and entered the hallowed precincts of the National Institute of Design at Ahmedabad…………at 22, my little wonder-doll had finally reached her much longed-for destination!

Epilogue

My tryst with dolls began when I was just two…….1962…..1983….1989….2011…..dolls of all shapes and sizes, textures and features have been my companions through my various stages of growing-up.  

As my grand-daughter little Aanya gurgles and coos and I watch her (now just five months) being bathed, dressed up in the most charming outfits, fed stewed apples and mashed vegetables, I can’t help but remember my dear little Bonti………..who I couldn’t preserve due to circumstances beyond my control……………but, who, I now know, was never lost………….she has always come back to me!