“Mere saath to samajik nyaay hua hai, kya khelenge”  (I have been given social justice, how would I play), often used to be the words of my Dadaji (paternal grandfather) while playing the game of 29 in cards (a common card game in the eastern part of India). What he actually meant by these lines was that he had got two cards from each of the four suits. It took me some time to decipher this code unlike my father who had been hearing this line for a longer period.

Cards are war, in disguise of Sport

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But this was enough to invite the fury of my father who would usually be in the opposite team. As per him, Dadaji was hinting his cards to his partner and in simple terms it was cheating. Before going any further, let me tell you that for Papa, the game of cards is the most serious activity on planet earth. Even today, he can get very angry at a wrong move by his partner or an attempt of cheating by his opponents, be it 29, Bridge or any other card game. Sometimes I feel that the English poet Charles Lamb had seen a game in our house when he wrote, “Cards are war, in disguise of Sport.”

 

Well, let me take you through a ‘normal’ game of 29 during my childhood in summer vacations at my grandparents’ place. Dadaji and Maa used to be in one team, with Papa and me being in the other. On few occasions my uncle also used to be part of the game replacing one of us. After giving me some leeway for my age, post two-three wrong moves by me, Papa would be angry. At first, Dadaji would just laugh at Papa’s frustration. But a raise in Papa’s voice would be met by Dadaji’s intervention, “Khel hai, ladne marne ke liye nahin khel rahe. Agar aise khelna hai to hum nahin khelenge” (It’s a game, we are not playing for fighting. If we are going to play like this, then I am not playing).

 

“Dimaag ka khel hai”

 

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Of course, my father couldn’t argue with him after a certain point. I used to thank Dadaji from the core of my heart at such moments. Post this, sanity would generally prevail, and we would be talking, laughing over the remainder of the games. This never meant that the same thing won’t be repeated the next day. 

 

While Dadaji was trying to restore the decorum of the house, till today Dadi Maa never likes or plays cards. In fact, at first when I started playing cards, she would say to Dadaji, “Bas yahi baaki hai, bahu aur pota ke saath jua khelo” (Only this is remaining now that you start gambling along with your daughter-in-law and grandson). In response to this, Dadaji would just smile and say, “Dimaag ka khel hai, tumko nahin samajh ayega” (It’s a game of the mind, you won’t understand). 

 

And not just about cards, he would impart other lessons as well while playing. Once I remember, we were in Darjeeling and in between one of the games I asked my mother that why was the salt on the table becoming wet. Being a chemistry professor, explaining the concept of deliquescence, Dadaji said in excitement, “Yahi sab samjhate hue to Jeevan guzra hai” (I have spent my life explaining these concepts).

 

Today, on his birth anniversary, I am certain that he is restoring peace in some game of 29 upstairs in the heavens along with passing his chemistry knowledge. As far as the game in our house is concerned, disputes still take place over Jacks and Aces.