I haven't been active on my blog lately due a turmoil of events. Apology to all my fans (assuming I have some). Here is a personal piece written by me.
The
sun had found its way under the ground. The streets were well lit by
streetlights and headlights. Rickshaws, bikes, cars and trucks passed by, taking
the liberty to honk at will. Few women carried their shopping bags and walked
on what could somehow qualify as a footpath. A couple of boys walked pass,
covered with mud. Shops were functional on the sides. The night was kept busy
like always.
We all sat in the hall, occupying all the
edges and corners. Some of them sat on the sofas and chairs while we youngsters
sat on the floor. My dad’s whole family were gathered, casually reviving old
memories. An air of nostalgia enveloped us. Each one was remembering and
narrating anecdotes from their childhood in Madhurai.
My dad bunked school regularly to go to the
movies. He had a small group who followed suit. His brothers were no less movie
buffs. Once, my dad and his friends went for a movie when one of their dads
came to his school. My dad’s brother told him that they had gone to some
high-profile temple for some high-profile puja. He ran to find them and told
them to maintain the same story. That reduced their punishment to a great
intensity.
Once, someone from another colony had a
small rift with my dad. His oldest brother went and bashed him up to the extent
of landing him up in the hospital. There was no such thing as privacy in his
store. They all were closely knit gang of bullies. But the entire store, even
the neighbouring stores, were terrorised by my thatha. The ones who were
attending nature’s call would neglect it and run away on hearing his cycle bell
ring. It was almost as if he was some kind of Voldemort.
Once, the entire lot had come to Mumbai for
my dad’s marriage. They were going somewhere by the local trains.
At Dadar station, one of our relatives remembered that he wanted strings for
his violin. So my dad told my other periappa to stand with the rest at a particular
spot in the platform while he took the guy along with him to the shop nearby.
He returned to find no sign of the gang at that spot. He asked his other
relative to stay there and he went searching for them. After an hour passed by,
he asked the railway authorities to make an announcement, summoning them to
platform 6. My mama-thatha just caught the word “Ananthanarayanan”. Not having
a grasp of the language, he assumed that something unfortunate happened. They
all rushed to the platform and somehow reunited with my dad. Did I mention cell
phones were just a dream back then?
We cousins had our own session of nostalgia
as well. We discussed about the way we were as kids. In 3rd
standard, my teacher had told me that eagles fly at a height from the ground and
we could spot it from tall buildings. My cousins, Aishwarya and Nandini, lived
on the 17th floor of their building, which was also near a dock. So I
started with my eagle watching from their balcony. I stayed there for a week,
religiously carrying out my eagle spotting every day. It grew on me as a
fascination, which hasn't subdued yet. My cousins would join me at times. After
I left, they started eagle spotting occasionally, producing its sound to lure
it.
When I went to Madhurai for my vacations, I
would meet my other cousins, Kritika, Srikanth, Suraj and Srinithi. Sometimes,
the Mumbai cousins would join in too. We usually celebrated Diwali together.
Srinithi, our youngest cousin (and the only one younger to me), would be
horrified of the crackers. She would hide in her room, covering her ears and
keeping the windows shut. Her parents would give her ears some extra protection
too, while we all would burst crackers (guilty) together. It was great fun
being with them all. We would always make fun of Srinithi. We all took it up as
a challenge to get her out of the cocoon, but failed at it. We would play
chor-police the whole day and the boys would always be the chor.
Suraj stayed in Mumbai till he was almost
four. We both spent a lot of time together and there are photographic records
to support the claim. Apparently he would hide all his toys in his closet, every
time I went to visit him. Once, I did the same to him. Neither of us have
memory of such actions; we just trust what the older folks say.
Nandini told us a story of when she was in
Bengaluru with Aishwarya and Suraj. They were pestering her dad, so he told
them that there was a pool to the end of the road. They left and took a tour of
the whole area. After a while, they lost their way. Her dad realised that they weren't home and sent a search party for them. Aishu was a little big, so she faintly
recollected the area and took them home along with her. Till date, they never
found the pool.
Pati’s departure to the other world
indeed got us closer to each other. We spent time knowing each other and also
our nephew and nieces. The rituals were a waste of money and time. However, they
worked in bringing us closer to each other. And we finally got to making our
own Whatsapp group.
For reference:
Periappa - Dad's elder brother (Tamil)
chor - thief (Hindi)
thatha - Grandfather (Tamil)
pati - Grandmother (Tamil)
