Down Memory Lane
22/08/06
Yet another mid week workday. As I hurriedly strap Kuttan in his car seat and double check the safety belt, I worry that I'm running late for the conference call that has been scheduled to happen in the next hour. I make a mental note to let people at work know that I may be running a bit late as soon as I reach Kuttan's nursery. As I set off, I notice that the usual hustle and bustle is missing and the roads are unusually quite. It took a moment for me to realise that the children are enjoying their summer vacation which means that there are far less number of 4X4s on the road.
My mind went racing back to the summer vacations that I enjoyed when I was a child. The day before the last annual exam was always exciting as that would be the day that Thatha (my maternal grandfather) would have come from Aramboly (a tiny village near Nagercoil in South India), to escort Annan and me back to the village.
We would set off on the state transport bus to Aramboly armed with biscuit packets, bananas, idlis and molagapodi packed in banana leaf and newspaper packets and three bottles of water in the morning the day after our exams were over. I'm not a big fan of idlis and yet it was such a treat to eat that meal in the bus. Thatha would have three spoons in a plastic cover wrapped neatly with a rubber band to eat our idlis with and come lunch time (the bus driver will decide to stop the bus at a particular place for food where there would be few food joints, dhaba style with latest movie songs blaring in loud speakers) the idli packets will be opened. Mum packs more idlis than what we eat normally and Thatha would insist that we place these extra idlis in his banana leaf before starting our meal. He does not like to waste food and will give it away to some poor person standing near these buses after we have finished.
After lunch, he would take us to the food joints where they also sell books and magazines. We would each get a tinkle digest and will return to the bus. The journey to our village takes a good 8-9 hours and so these books would be such a treat to kill time. I always got to sit next to Thatha in the bus and Thatha would tell us stories of the bygone days, of how they used to live or of the current happenings of the village. Now I think back, I was so like Kuttan, I would pester Thatha from the moment I alight the bus with numerous' Are we there yet?' questions. He was so patient and would say that after so many stops we will reach Aramboly.
It would get so exciting as we get close to the village in the evening, the familiar mountains, windmills, Muppandhal kovil,Kotai vassal thatha veedu, police station, Hindu Vidhyalaya school, Esakiamman kovil, sandhai, Mani kadai and finally the bus stand. I will be craning my neck outside the window and there usually will be a competition between my brother and me as to who will spot Velu(he used to work in Thatha's farm and Achi would have sent him to carry our baggage) first.
The short walk from the bus stand to home will be equally interesting with many of the village folks coming to us and asking Thatha 'Yaaru Padma pillaela, ennamo amma, appa varaliya'. I enjoyed the banter as much as the journey. We run from the bus stand with Thatha and Velu walking hurriedly to keep up with us. Usually my other cousins would have come weeks before (In B'lore, schools close weeks before ours did, in those days) and they would all be waiting at the doorstep along with Achi for us. It would be such a noisy and joyful reunion and the start of two months of heaven on earth.
Sadly, this tradition stopped the year I joined college, when Thatha fell terminally ill. We lost our Thatha ten years ago and our ancestral home has since been disposed off as there is nobody to take care of it. Now I hate to go anywhere near Aramboly as the emotions that erupt are over whelming and the pain just too unbearable. The entire family misses Thatha very much and he was our pillar of strength but I feel blessed to have known such a wonderful person for so many years and to have had so many wonderful summer vacations.
And yes, I did make it to the meeting on time.
Yet another mid week workday. As I hurriedly strap Kuttan in his car seat and double check the safety belt, I worry that I'm running late for the conference call that has been scheduled to happen in the next hour. I make a mental note to let people at work know that I may be running a bit late as soon as I reach Kuttan's nursery. As I set off, I notice that the usual hustle and bustle is missing and the roads are unusually quite. It took a moment for me to realise that the children are enjoying their summer vacation which means that there are far less number of 4X4s on the road.
My mind went racing back to the summer vacations that I enjoyed when I was a child. The day before the last annual exam was always exciting as that would be the day that Thatha (my maternal grandfather) would have come from Aramboly (a tiny village near Nagercoil in South India), to escort Annan and me back to the village.
We would set off on the state transport bus to Aramboly armed with biscuit packets, bananas, idlis and molagapodi packed in banana leaf and newspaper packets and three bottles of water in the morning the day after our exams were over. I'm not a big fan of idlis and yet it was such a treat to eat that meal in the bus. Thatha would have three spoons in a plastic cover wrapped neatly with a rubber band to eat our idlis with and come lunch time (the bus driver will decide to stop the bus at a particular place for food where there would be few food joints, dhaba style with latest movie songs blaring in loud speakers) the idli packets will be opened. Mum packs more idlis than what we eat normally and Thatha would insist that we place these extra idlis in his banana leaf before starting our meal. He does not like to waste food and will give it away to some poor person standing near these buses after we have finished.
After lunch, he would take us to the food joints where they also sell books and magazines. We would each get a tinkle digest and will return to the bus. The journey to our village takes a good 8-9 hours and so these books would be such a treat to kill time. I always got to sit next to Thatha in the bus and Thatha would tell us stories of the bygone days, of how they used to live or of the current happenings of the village. Now I think back, I was so like Kuttan, I would pester Thatha from the moment I alight the bus with numerous' Are we there yet?' questions. He was so patient and would say that after so many stops we will reach Aramboly.
It would get so exciting as we get close to the village in the evening, the familiar mountains, windmills, Muppandhal kovil,Kotai vassal thatha veedu, police station, Hindu Vidhyalaya school, Esakiamman kovil, sandhai, Mani kadai and finally the bus stand. I will be craning my neck outside the window and there usually will be a competition between my brother and me as to who will spot Velu(he used to work in Thatha's farm and Achi would have sent him to carry our baggage) first.
The short walk from the bus stand to home will be equally interesting with many of the village folks coming to us and asking Thatha 'Yaaru Padma pillaela, ennamo amma, appa varaliya'. I enjoyed the banter as much as the journey. We run from the bus stand with Thatha and Velu walking hurriedly to keep up with us. Usually my other cousins would have come weeks before (In B'lore, schools close weeks before ours did, in those days) and they would all be waiting at the doorstep along with Achi for us. It would be such a noisy and joyful reunion and the start of two months of heaven on earth.
Sadly, this tradition stopped the year I joined college, when Thatha fell terminally ill. We lost our Thatha ten years ago and our ancestral home has since been disposed off as there is nobody to take care of it. Now I hate to go anywhere near Aramboly as the emotions that erupt are over whelming and the pain just too unbearable. The entire family misses Thatha very much and he was our pillar of strength but I feel blessed to have known such a wonderful person for so many years and to have had so many wonderful summer vacations.
And yes, I did make it to the meeting on time.
posted by Raji at Tuesday, August 22, 2006
53 comments
