..... a memory .....

Everything in this part of the world slept. In deep undisturbed slumber, and only I it seemed was awake and will remain in an awaken state receptive to the quiet peace of the wildness of this place.

A small wind rustled the tall conifers. A thick smell of pine hung in the air. A peculiar half-light came from behind the mountains giving the horizon a lilac hue. The mountains seemed blue and grey but they didn't stand clear of the sky. The hung somewhere between heaven and earth, like impersonal beings. The air was damp and chilly and the silence stared back at me.

I gradually felt myself sinking slowly, merging with the cold silence. Till a dim oil-lamp lit up the doorway, and I was escorted up the stone steps, into a polished wooden floor. The silence still somewhat unbroken, but there was warmth radiating out of the fire in the fire-place.

I remember clearly the dampness and the silence. I never grew to like the damp climate, but I will always cherish the silence that the Convent offered and the very peaceful time I spent in the Hills.

My first evening in School. In the early '60s.

....where have all the knitters gone, long time passing.....

At one time, any family would have had a mother, sister, wife, daughter, in particular a grandmother who would knit sweaters, bootees, jerseys, mufflers and what nots for any soul who would wear them.

When I was young knitted shop bought sweaters were rare and only came from Scot House or Debenham. Later from Courtney's or M & S. These, at least for our family, were rare and infrequent wear. To be worn for very special occasions. We survived on sweaters and jerseys knitted by my grandmother, later by my mother and my aunts. Mother her and friends often knitted for us children. Shop bought jerseys were not appreciated.

Ma was a great knitter. My sister and I wore her knitted sweaters, which carried on to our children. They are kept carefully in our camphor-wood box for the third generation. I could never wear the regular grey school sweaters. I got a wool-rash and it used to become painful. Special permission was sought and I wore soft lamb's wool school sweaters made with 3ply wool. My mother knitted 2 sets of full sleeved pullovers and 2 slipovers which lasted me one school

year. They did require frequent darning, and Sushila didi at School did most of the darning.

When I went home, Ma had ready for me several other sweaters. Raglan sleeves, open neck collars for daily wear. Beautiful lacy stuff in soft wool, soft colours for special occasions. Ma learnt Fair Isle design in Scotland, and the Fair Isle sweaters that we two sisters wore were unmatched. In those days there used to be "Woman and Home" and "Women" and other magazines which would regularly publish knitting patterns. Ma sometimes followed those. Sometimes sweaters used to be made from "Knitting World" ( I hope I have the name right) .... a magazine with a large pink bar at the top of the cover. I think our old house still has some of them. Very often Ma and my Bordi Mashi knitted patterns and designs out of their heads....and what exquisite sweaters they knitted. Even at that young age both my sister and I took a tremendous amount of pride in wearing hand knitted, custom made jumpers and pullovers made by our Mother specially for us. We wore something called Fuzzy Wuzzy wool. Sort of furry wool which on the whole gave the effect of fur rather than wool. I had a couple of them, and loved them. Sajani wore the pink one when she was young (my old one), which Toro later chewed up.

Ma knitted all her grandchildren Fair Isle sweaters. Not one, but several. Shantam had this phobia/dislike about wool. Ma had to knit him slipovers .... sleeveless and V neck ...... so that no part of the sweater touched his skin. Ma knitted him exactly what he wanted. His colours, his design, his pattern. Mostly they were single tone in maroon or blue, but often enough FairIsles in shades of grey and blue which looked as misty as the sea at Skye. (When Shantam grew up, Ma made him cable knit sweaters. Like she did for my Dad. Slipovers and pullovers with the cables running up the front. How exclusive they were !!!!). All in the softest 3 ply baby wool which would not injure his stubborn soul and of course his tender skin. Ma pampered him and totally spoilt him in his huge 'sweater porbo naaa' cry. We felt a little ashamed about the15 minute fight with a sweater that the boy would put up...... even a school slipover, on a school day. We all felt a little awkward that the whole locality would know about this sweater fight on at our house, specially when the whole para would appreciate the garment when the brat stepped out on the road with his angelic smile and acknowledged "Dida made this for me"

Sajani was very good about wearing warm clothes. Ma knitted for her, Neelum's Ma and my sister knitted her the most beautiful sweaters. In turquoise, sometimes in emerald green, or even in bright yellow. Fair Isles, raglan sleeves, zipped T shirt types. Also those airy-fairy lacy stuff in baby pink and powder blue. Ma made for all her grandchildren striped pullovers. In shades of grey/maroon/blue for the boys. And exclusive ones in bright colours and fairy-tale ones in pastel shades for her only grand daughter. She made cricket sweaters for Shantam who played cricket and also a basket-ball tank top for Sajani with LH written in front. A Man U sweater for the brat who loved football and also a violin with a treble clef for her youngest grandchild.Our children were really well turned out. Right from babyhood to their 20+ age. School sweaters, party sweaters, "Dida,-Delhi-is-very-cold" sweaters, jumpers for home wear, pullovers for playtime, ponchos, scarves. All done by Ma, my friends and their mothers, my sister. Wool came from all over the world. It had to be soft wool, pure wool. Nylon mixed wool was not often used. Wool came from Himachal and Sikkim..... the rough but soft type. From Scotland...lambs wool. From Australia ....... angora wool. All of these spun into skeins and made into balls to be transformed into sweaters for daughters, sons, grandchildren. friend's children, babies, sons-in law, the naughty brat, the little princess, the cherubic angel wore a pale blue jumper, while the sallow complexioned withdrawn little boy wore a bright crimson..... to lend some colour in his cheeks. Such love, such care, such a lot of thought went behind these knittings.

All this apart, I remember Ma sitting on her old cane chair and knitting...... reading to us, talking to the dog, tending a sick kitten, calming me down after a tantrum, singing to me, doing lessons with my sister, crooning to the grandchild on her lap........ such an ambiance of peace and quietitude when Ma knitted.

In December last I was looking for someone who would knit a baby coatee for six month old Krishi, and even after an extensive search found no one ... no one at all ..... who would hand knit a baby sweater.

I rue the fact that today there are few people who knit. Perhaps they buy machine made sweaters in glitzy malls.