Why is the bond with grand kids more
endearing than that with one's own kids? The answer is simple - it is pure,
undiluted pleasure! There is no tension or
worry about their upbringing - that is left to the parents! And as grandparents
have more free time on their hands, they have a higher patience quotient and
more fun!
I can boast of being a desirable companion
to my grand kids. I myself have had a great bonding with my grandparents – both
paternal as well as maternal. While spending quality time with my grand kids I
found myself narrating to them about my childhood experiences with my
grandparents. It was like reliving those days: the nostalgia provided the right
momentum to get me started with this long-postponed-record of my experiences.
Here are some leaves from my association with my paternal grandparents.
I have great reverence, admiration and love for my Thatha and Paati. They had control over the family but it was of a benign nature. The family set-up was democratic in nature - allowing a good degree of freedom for everyone. Like typical middle class persons, Thatha and Paati gave importance to education. They upheld values and morals and inculcated the same to the family not by preaching but by practice. They were extraordinary persons - much ahead of their times. I won't call them rebels but they were definitely practical
in outlook with a cool level-headed nature and mature logic. One cannot call them conservative and religious; they were modern and advocated a scientific
approach. They could definitely be bracketed with Gen X or even Gen Y! So
modern was their outlook! A few lines from Thatha’s will is enough to give you
proof –
“After a long and mature consideration extending over a number of years and wide reading, I long ago came to the conclusion that the human personality - call it a soul or any other name - ceases with death. Since the belief in the existence of the soul and a future life is the basis of all religions and since I have ceased to believe in either I cannot be called a 'religious' person. That explains why I have no interest in temple-going and performance of ceremonies.
It is however not to be imagined that I am what is called an atheist. I believe in the existence of an all-powerful 'Supreme Being' guiding and controlling the universe. I however hold that it is a futile exercise to fathom the attributes of such a Supreme Being. It is an inscrutable, unknowable Force which cannot be described. It is also ridiculous to imagine that it can be propitiated by prayers and offerings into granting us favors such as long life, wealth etc. etc.
Such being my religious belief, I have no interest in the performance of shradhas and funeral ceremonies. But man is a social animal and has a place in society and as certain social conventions have to be observed, I have formed some views on the funeral ceremonies to be performed on my death.
They are:
A. Cremation is to be performed with due honours just to show respect to the deceased.
B. No daily 'tharpanam' is to be performed on any day following the cremation..................
The abdikam and subsequent annual sradham need not be performed at all. The date of my passing away may be remembered by feeding about a dozen people of all castes on that day......"
“After a long and mature consideration extending over a number of years and wide reading, I long ago came to the conclusion that the human personality - call it a soul or any other name - ceases with death. Since the belief in the existence of the soul and a future life is the basis of all religions and since I have ceased to believe in either I cannot be called a 'religious' person. That explains why I have no interest in temple-going and performance of ceremonies.
It is however not to be imagined that I am what is called an atheist. I believe in the existence of an all-powerful 'Supreme Being' guiding and controlling the universe. I however hold that it is a futile exercise to fathom the attributes of such a Supreme Being. It is an inscrutable, unknowable Force which cannot be described. It is also ridiculous to imagine that it can be propitiated by prayers and offerings into granting us favors such as long life, wealth etc. etc.
Such being my religious belief, I have no interest in the performance of shradhas and funeral ceremonies. But man is a social animal and has a place in society and as certain social conventions have to be observed, I have formed some views on the funeral ceremonies to be performed on my death.
They are:
A. Cremation is to be performed with due honours just to show respect to the deceased.
B. No daily 'tharpanam' is to be performed on any day following the cremation..................
The abdikam and subsequent annual sradham need not be performed at all. The date of my passing away may be remembered by feeding about a dozen people of all castes on that day......"
I have had the good fortune to be close to my grandparents and
Athai (aunt – father’s sister) as I got to live with them for almost a year when I was a four-year-old
and again later for another four years when my father was posted in
faraway (those were the days) Andamans. Perhaps I had spent the
impressionable period of my life (at the age of 13-17) with them and have been
greatly influenced by them apart from my parents.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS
Before I go to my first impressions, let me tell you that when I was born, everyone in my paternal family was thrilled on getting to enjoy a baby after about fifteen years. I was the first grandchild at my maternal grandparents'. Looking back, it must have been pretty funny when my paternal folks gave 'valuable' tips about baby-problems. I was a scrawny baby, with problems of digestion and Thatha, Paati and Athai would endeavor to instill discipline in the baby regarding feed times etc. My mother has told me that she would feel like tearing her hair while I kept bawling and the others tried to drown it with their louder distractions as it wasn't feed-time yet! Well all this was done with the best of intentions and in care, concern and love. So you see it is no surprise that I did imbibe their fetish for punctuality!
I am proud to say that I do have photos with each of my idols carrying me as a baby. But it is really sad that we have hardly any pictures clicked in the 60's! And no pictures with them in the 70's - really shameful! And one more thing - it was Paati who came up with my name - which is to an extent quite an uncommon one even today. Otherwise as per our tradition, I am named after her - Bhagirati.
My grandfather (Thatha) M.D.Narayana Iyer
(popularly known as MD among intimate ones), was born around 1886 in Manjappara near Palghat. I still remember six-footer Thatha - always erect and
majestic, endowed with sharp features. He could impress anyone with his
good English (despite his slight stammer). But the convent-educated I would try
to correct his ‘harrrsh’ pronunciation of words which had an ‘r’ in the middle
of them – he’d just laugh it off and take it with a pinch of salt! He had a
good sense of humour! At home, he'd be dressed in crisp white ‘veshti’ and
home-stitched 'banian' (vest stitched by his daughter Ankichi, my Athai). For
outings, he would put on a white cotton shirt and an angavastram and walk
majestically with his walking stick adding to his regal bearing – yes even before
he was seventy!
Paati was on the shorter side, and plumper. Fair,
chubby-faced, she was a beauty even at sixty plus! She would have a large round
magenta-colored kumkuma-pottu (bindi) on her forehead. She always wore simple pattu
podavai (9-yards silk sari) and ravikkai (blouse which would be knotted up in
front, I mean without buttons / hooks).
MY FIRST STINT
When my brother was a toddler, my parents
decided to leave me for the first time with my grandparents who
were willing to take the responsibility. They were in Ernakulam then. I was 4 and thoroughly
enjoyed their attention, affection, concern and care. They pampered me but
never spoilt me – they knew where to draw the line. I remember crawling up on to Thatha’s lap and
twitching and twirling the little round fleshy bump on his neck - calling
it his 'button' and he would keep gazing at me indulgently.
During that first stint with them, I had
more interaction with my Paati. She was the one who would accompany a
screaming me in the rickshaw to Nursery school with a little tiffin thookku (my very own lunchbox with my name 'Vrinda' inscribed in Malayalam) which contained 'nendrapazha nurukku' (steamed Kerala plantain).
Lunch at home would be made enticing - with two tiny pappadams accompanying the paruppu-chaadham, followed by curd rice and vegetable. Nap time would find me cozily cuddling in Paati's soft 'pazham podavai' - old silk sari. I was a reluctant napper – like all kids: if I napped like a good girl, I would get a reward - I would hang around her and trail behind her for it - she would coolly open her cupboard in the store room (called 'meal-safe') and take out a small yellow aluminium box, take out a little key and open the tiny lock as I'd wait patiently. She would open it, take out the bar of Cadbury's chocolate and carefully break one piece and hand it over to me (sometimes a tablespoon of cashews / raisins). Before I could finish and ask for more, she would have locked the box and put it away and closed the cupboard! Such was the discipline. Before I went to bed, I had to drink a glass of milk. How many times I have ended throwing up and Paati asking me what was the matter. I'd say, "aadai" (cream) and she'd say there was no trace of cream in it but I'd keep insisting there was! You see they loved cream and I have been very fussy about it right from childhood - a little bit of cream was enough to make me throw up! So I still strain my milk every time I use it - even to this day.
I also remember telling my Athai that I wanted to buy a 'kunjalam' (a decorative accessory to be braided with the hair, with three fluffy balls at the end) for my hair as my friend X had it too. She asked me, "How many do you want, one or two?" I blurted out, "One!" "Are you sure?" Silly of me not to correct myself and say, "Two". I got a kunjalam and went to school (Nursery) with my braid in it. What did I find there? X in two braids with kunjalams. Dare I ask Athai for more - no way! I should say that at the age of four I learnt my first lesson - to think right and not let go of opportunities.
Lunch at home would be made enticing - with two tiny pappadams accompanying the paruppu-chaadham, followed by curd rice and vegetable. Nap time would find me cozily cuddling in Paati's soft 'pazham podavai' - old silk sari. I was a reluctant napper – like all kids: if I napped like a good girl, I would get a reward - I would hang around her and trail behind her for it - she would coolly open her cupboard in the store room (called 'meal-safe') and take out a small yellow aluminium box, take out a little key and open the tiny lock as I'd wait patiently. She would open it, take out the bar of Cadbury's chocolate and carefully break one piece and hand it over to me (sometimes a tablespoon of cashews / raisins). Before I could finish and ask for more, she would have locked the box and put it away and closed the cupboard! Such was the discipline. Before I went to bed, I had to drink a glass of milk. How many times I have ended throwing up and Paati asking me what was the matter. I'd say, "aadai" (cream) and she'd say there was no trace of cream in it but I'd keep insisting there was! You see they loved cream and I have been very fussy about it right from childhood - a little bit of cream was enough to make me throw up! So I still strain my milk every time I use it - even to this day.
I also remember telling my Athai that I wanted to buy a 'kunjalam' (a decorative accessory to be braided with the hair, with three fluffy balls at the end) for my hair as my friend X had it too. She asked me, "How many do you want, one or two?" I blurted out, "One!" "Are you sure?" Silly of me not to correct myself and say, "Two". I got a kunjalam and went to school (Nursery) with my braid in it. What did I find there? X in two braids with kunjalams. Dare I ask Athai for more - no way! I should say that at the age of four I learnt my first lesson - to think right and not let go of opportunities.
I was to participate at a recitation
competition on Children's Day - way back in 1956 (I remember the
year because my brother was born in 1955 and less than a year later my
parents left me with my grandparents), at the Town Hall I think. The kids were
to be taken there from school and brought back to school late in
the evening. My Thatha promised to bring me back from my school. I was
worried whether he would be allowed to enter my school. I double-checked with
him, "Thatha, do you know ABC?" He nodded. "And 123?"
"I think so. Why do you ask?" I told him to learn them properly
otherwise the security would not let him inside the school. He gave me an
'I'll-do-that' nod. Wasn't I shocked to see him in conversation with the
Headmaster himself in the evening! How he had managed that was an unsolved mystery to me
for long! All in all I had a gala time - and didn't miss my parents
and baby brother for some six months; by then my parents started missing
me and I was also happy to be back with them.
THE SECOND STINT
My next stint with my grandparents - as I
said earlier was when I entered my teens. My father was posted as Chief Engineer
in Andaman & Nicobar Islands (1965-69). There was no High School there
those days, so I was sent to my grandparents and aunt in Trichur to pursue
my studies (class IX - XII). It was during this period that I got to know more
about our family tree and more importantly about their admirable traits of
character which raised my esteem for them.
PAATI’S FAMILY TALES
I owe it to Paati for enlightening me about
the many members of our family, ancestors included. At bedtime, she would start
narrating her childhood days and I would fall asleep listening to her
interesting narration. That was the nightly lullaby for me. It was months
by the time I learnt the names and family details of each of her 8
siblings! Then there were stories of Thatha's childhood, Athai's, Periappa's
and my father's tales all spiced up with a dash
of imperceptible masala to make them alluring - I tell you she was a
master story teller. Thanks to her, I got a vivid pen-portrait of my ancestors
as well as the diligence, hard work, honesty, uprightness, love, concern,
practical approach and invaluable guidance of Thatha and Paati that protected
the family from the heat and tempests of life.
I shudder to think how the family tree would
have looked like if my grandfather had not had his aunt and uncle's
patronage. My Thatha had three mothers - yes, his biological mother Chinnu (I
don't know her real name), her elder sister Chheedhai (Seeta) and widowed
younger sister Chuppu (Subbalakshmi). Seeta and her husband Kalyanakrishnan
did not have children and wanted to adopt grandpa legally but couldn't as he
was the eldest son of his parents. So they legally adopted his younger
brother Rasu. Grandpa was a brilliant student throughout. But because of
his parents' economic condition, he also mastered the Vedas and mantras - to
pave the way to become a sastrigal (vaadhyaar). (And to think of such a person writing the will mentioned earlier! The lessons of life had changed his outlook.) But Thatha's uncle who
identified his potential, offered to take the responsibility for his higher
education. Thanks to him, grandpa studied B.A (Mathematics) and then went
for Engineering at Guindy, Madras. He was destined to rise to the post of
Chief Engineer of the erstwhile Cochin state - not a priest, which is why
one thing led to another!
Thatha had two elder sisters, both married to advocates and well-settled - the elder one in Trichur and the younger in Calicut. He was very fond of his younger brother Ramakrishnan (Rasu). Grandma would regale me with funny stories
about how Chuppu would pamper Thatha when he was a kid. He started
schooling late according to our standards - I think he was put in Class 1 only
when he was 8 plus as the school was far away. Chuppu would carry him all
the way to school and carry him back too. She continued to lovingly
nurture him even as a grown-up. She even offered to stay with him and cook for
him when he was a student at Guindy. Thatha sweet-talked his way out and
managed to extricate himself from the sweet nuisance! And of course there
was his mother to guide him and not let him go overboard! One mother is a boon!
What can we say about his luck at having three of them? 'Ek se bhale
teen!'
Well Thatha bagged a Munsif's daughter C.M.Bhagirati Ammal as
his bride. Paati would proudly claim she was a 'Munsif's daughter' and had
had a great childhood. She had no complaints about her married life too - she
never mentioned any problems with her three mothers-in-law! (Likewise she
was a gem of a mother-in-law too.) The couple were blessed with a son
'Manikutty' (Kalyanakrishnan - named after Thatha's uncle) followed by a
daughter Ankichi (Padmavathi) two years later. Then eight years later my
father Dharmu (Dharmarajan - named after Thatha's biological father) was born. They
had a great life, prosperous, peaceful, happy and contented. Paati has told me
that Thatha's salary would include around 13 sovereigns along with the
cash. Paati was a good manager and started getting ready the ornaments
required for their darling daughter's wedding. My father would tell us about
their car, their driver Chathu Nair, their cooks..... a sort of royal
life. But they spent wisely and prudently and believed in savings. So it is of
little surprise that Thatha managed to invest in three houses (out of honest
earnings, mind you – those were the days …) – and gifted them to each of his
three children when he was into his 70's! Thatha - Paati had trust in their
well-brought-up children and didn't wait to bequeath their property to them
after their lifetime like most people. When you ponder over it, you will agree
with me that there is meaning in this – it is when the sons and daughters are
in their 40's and 50's that life is a struggle and any addition to the family
coffers will be utilized well – kids’ education or marriage. When it is
bequeathed to them through a will, they must have reached a stage when they don’t
have any special need for the property and it is just added to the already existing sizable investments.
LIFE - A ROLLER COASTER
When Ankichi was 10, her marriage was
fixed - the groom was her paternal cousin - Thatha's elder sister's son. A
lawyer like his eminent father, the young man Anantanarayanan (Ambi) was
establishing his practice pretty well. It was a grand wedding (that is an
understatement) - a four-day-extravaganza! If my memory doesn't fail me I
think Ankichi athai was taken around on an elephant in a procession. Ankichi
was allowed to finish her Matriculation - the families were modern enough
to give importance to education - of girls, I mean!
Meanwhile the brilliant Manikutty kept
topping every examination and was the toast of the town. Like any typical
middle class family, the primary focus was education. Thatha had great
ambitions for his darling first-born - a person of his caliber should not
settle down for anything less than the coveted ICS! So he did not mind
spending a fortune sending Manikutty to England. I remember my father telling
me that the brothers were extremely fond of each other. He had felt as if
his heart would break to be separated from his brother. Before Manikutty
left for England, my father had given him such an extra-tight hug that
Manikutty struggled to free himself saying, "Idhu enna
kambalikattaakkum!" (What a bear hug!).
But tragedy struck just before Manikutty
left - Ankichi gave birth to a still-born son plunging the family
in grief. The family - especially Ankichi was in bad shape and needed time
to recover, physically, mentally and emotionally. So it was decided Manikutty
would not say 'bye' to her before leaving for London; when she realized he
was gone, she was pretty upset - the siblings were very close as it was a
close-knit family.
Manikutty performed gloriously as expected
in his written exams for ICS. But having got drawn into the company
of Communists in Cambridge, his answers in the interview were colored in
his lately-acquired beliefs and therefore unacceptable in democratic England
- Manikutty FAILED ICS! As if that was not enough, he also fell in love
with Parvathi (daughter of the Subbarayans, a family known for national
integration within the family due to inter-caste marriages). This dealt a
terrible blow to Thatha and Paati who had been trying to sift and select from
the numerous admirable, and worthy alliances vying for Manikutty, the eligible
bachelor. In spite of the double disappointment in Manikutty, both of them
maintained a stoic dignity and calmness and gave the green signal for the inter-caste marriage in as early as 1940's. Thatha's practical approach made him a bit apprehensive whether the economic divide between the two families would pose any problem - the Subbarayans were zamindars and our family, middle class. But the lovers stood their ground and all ended well. Thatha and Paati also maintained a cordial and loving relationship with Manikutty and Parvathi through and
through. Hats off to them for their modern outlook even in those days! I feel
like giving more credit to Paati - she was not educated (she had completed
1st form - class V) and could have well acted as a spoke in the wheel and
raised hell at home! She complemented Thatha beautifully - truly the couple were way ahead of their times! I have to
admit that it was my father who couldn't forgive his brother for having
disappointed their parents!
Once again it was time for rejoicing and
hope when Ankichi became pregnant again. But another blow was lurking
round the bend....
Paati had just mentioned the tragedy in
her own inimitable style, keeping the pathos in the background. I came to
know the intricate details because I chanced to get hold of an old notebook
when I was going through Thatha's book shelf - I found pages of
description in his own handwriting and curiosity got the better of this
teenager's etiquette. I went through the entire thing with mixed emotions - of
grief for the entire family, admiration for their stoic nature and pride
for their will power and determination to fight it out! This was the tragedy .....
When Ankichi athai was midway through her
pregnancy, my grandparents had brought her home. Their son-in-law was due
to arrive shortly for a few days. Actually Ambi who was suffering from
stomachache for some days, had consulted his doctor-friend who treated
him. But the situation went out-of-control with laxatives and took a turn
for the worse. He was immediately rushed from Calicut to Madras for
treatment at the hands of the eminent Dr. Lakshmanasami Mudaliar. Sensing
the seriousness of the situation, Thatha and Paati along with Ankichi
also left for Chennai by train. The threesome rushed to hospital,
spoke to Ambi, and sensed all was not too well. The two ladies were sent
to rest... Actually it was a case of appendicitis turning complicated
and fatal. Thatha had recorded minute details like Ambi complaining about
disturbance from a leaking tap ....
Within days Ambi was gone! The family was
devastated. Thatha's belief in astrology and religion was shattered. He
could not digest it - he had consulted astrologers and matched horoscopes
before fixing the wedding. They had okayed the match - one of them had
mentioned that Ankichi was destined to occupy a high post - the family
laughed it off saying she might be selected for some Panchayat post as she was
a Matriculate..... Now at the height of emotional turmoil, he tore
the horoscopes of all family members - my Paati was the one who rescued my
father's horoscope for future use for matrimonial alliance - she was sensible
even at the height of crisis and was an anchor for the ship caught in the
tempest!
Thatha and Paati's loving care and nurture
saw Ankichi through the turbulent months of confinement and she delivered
a bonny baby girl - a silver lining in the cloud. It seems my father was
excited like a child and went about the neighborhood, informing friends and
acquaintances about the arrival of the baby.
There was this talk in the family circles
that Ankichi should don the typical attire of a widow with her head shaved
as per the prevalent norms. I just can't imagine her like that! A widow’s life
those days was confined to the four walls of the house – we have also heard
stories of heartless treatment meted out to them. How could Thatha and Paati
even imagine such a state for their loving daughter? They had the guts to stand
up to their decision of continuing Ankichi’s education in spite of protests
from family and outsiders. Thanks to their unstinting support and unflinching determination,
we had the good fortune of seeing Ankichi Athai blossom into a powerful
personality attired in cool, crisp white cotton sari, commanding respect
among colleagues and students, first as Professor at Maharaja's
College, Ernakulam and later as the Principal of Women's Polytechnic,
Kannimangalam, Trichur. Yes, it was Thatha and Paati who sent her to
college while they took charge of little Vasanta. Ankichi was a brilliant
student too (in the family circles, the talk was that in MD's house, even
the 'kannukutty' - calf - would be highly intelligent!). She was a gold
medalist too for M.Sc (Physics). Then she started her teaching career
and steadily progressed. This was probably what that astrologer had
predicted about her destiny which nobody understood then.
Dharmu (my father) was no great shakes at
studies as a school boy (this tale I heard from him). Thatha was worried
about his performance in Mathematics and he wanted his friend to advise the
boy. When the friend asked Dharmu whether he shouldn't get 100%
in maths, he retaliated that he was happy with 35%. I can imagine Thatha's disappointment but he never
pressurized him. When Dharmu was in Class 9, there was a transformation in him - he attributes it to the change of
'grahas' in his horoscope - he was a staunch believer, you see!
He started upholding the family tradition
and topping in all examinations. Thatha wanted him to do Engineering from
Benaras Hindu University but Dharmu didn't want to be so far away from the family. He
chose to do B.Sc (Hons) and bagged the gold medal. After that he agreed to
join Guindy Engineering College, Madras and once again emerged a
Gold medalist. I personally feel that it is the conducive environment
created in the family and the gentle prodding in academics that led to the
academic achievements in the family – thanks again to my grandparents! Thatha was ready to send his younger son also abroad for studies. But Dharmu was different. He was not very ambitious - more of a home-bird. In fact initially he worked for a while in Kerala, closer home -
going home at least once a month. Thatha and Paati managed to get a good
alliance for their youngest son - Janaki, the eldest daughter of an upcoming
Engineer at Cochin Port Trust (who later rose to become the Chief
Engineer). My mother has told me stories of how she entered the family as
a sixteen year old. She was bowled over by the 'chakka and manga' (jackfruits
and mangoes) and vegetables and the jasmine and roses in the back yard of
their sprawling house in Thrissur. And Paati was more than a loving mother to
her. Soon Dharmu chose to write the UPSC examination, got selected for
CPWD and was posted in faraway Delhi!
ENTER THE GRAND KIDS
Meanwhile Thatha and Paati's prime focus
was Vasanta. Vasanta grew up as her grandparents' adored daughter (she
called Ankichi by her name) and did not even know that they were not actually
her Appa and Amma, it was a relative who let the cat out of the bag to the
child. Not that it made any difference to any of them - they were beyond all these petty
considerations! They brought her up while Ankichi focused on her career
- this is common in the present day scenario - but remember this was two
generations ago.
Meanwhile Manikutty and Parvathi had a
daughter Indira and they were in Bombay when there was a swoop
on Communists and both of them went underground, leaving 4 year old Indira
with their friends. After a couple of months, the friends contacted Thatha
and Paati and requested them to take custody of the little girl. Thatha
had the common sense to take 10 year old Vasanta along so that the little girl
would find her a good companion and not get nervous in the company of a
stranger. Oh the stories of Indi-Vasanta would have me in splits as Paati
narrated them. Truly the duo indulged in Tom n' Jerry antics. Similar to
Manikutty-Ankichi childhood tiffs.
A few years later, yours truly was born -
once again the family was overjoyed with the baby in the family. Three and
a half years later my brother Ramesh was born - the first (and only) grandson. And
another four years later, my sister Hema was born. Thatha - Paati would send us tins of snacks as well as ornaments / clothes for each of us for Diwali wherever we were - Delhi, Bangalore or Calcutta. We kids would also look forward to visiting
them too – for chakka varatti, cashew nuts, 'maanderai' (mango jelly) - trust Paati to give us generous helpings! My brother was notoriously mischievous, so Thatha would meticulously put everything on a high mantelpiece beyond the toddler's reach. He was admittedly 'scared of him and his antics'! Talking about my little sister, I remember this incident - she was so enamored of the coral chain Paati was wearing (because of it's bright orange color possibly) that she wanted it for herself - then and there! The five-year old bawled and brought the house down - Paati was generous enough to gift it to her!
Grandparents managed to find a great match
for Vasanta when she had finished first year of M.Sc and the marriage
was conducted on a grand scale. But Vasanta was to complete her post
graduation before she joined her husband - Thatha-Paati had learnt life's
lesson after Ankichi's fate and wanted every girl in the family to be well educated.
During the last six months of Vasanta's
course, my grandparents temporarily moved to a small rented house in Trivandrum to be with her who had some
health issues at the hostel. I also tagged along. They would always
provide the right atmosphere at home conducive to studies – needless to add
that Vasanta was a gold medalist too! Years later it was the same in my case
too - and I came out with flying colors in SSLC and Pre-degree
examinations from Trichur.
It was my grandparents who conducted on a grand scale, the 'poonal' (thread ceremony) of their only grandson, my brother Ramesh in 1967. As my parents were then in Andamans, all the arrangements were made by Thatha, Paati and Athai.
It was my grandparents who conducted on a grand scale, the 'poonal' (thread ceremony) of their only grandson, my brother Ramesh in 1967. As my parents were then in Andamans, all the arrangements were made by Thatha, Paati and Athai.
A TYPICAL DAY
Thatha and Paati were punctual to a T in
their daily routine and neither of them compromised. Early morning Athai would
make tall glasses of coffee for all the three of them; it was milk for me.
After bath, Thatha alone would have porridge. There was the cook to
prepare food. Both Athai and I would eat piping hot food at 8.30 a.m.
before rushing off. Paati would sit next
to us and mash rice in a vessel to make curd rice for my lunch box - this I
would have at school with 'mezhukkuvaratti' /
'vadu manga'. I would hesitantly hint to Paati that my friends
brought 'nendrapazham' / idlis for lunch. She'd just not hear of anything
- according to her nothing like the cooling curd rice for the afternoon.
I'd continue to request her to reduce the quantity till one day she became
angry and told me to make my own curd rice. Oh wasn't I relieved and overjoyed
momentarily! But I regretted it later – poor thing, did I hurt her and her
concern?
Whatever Thatha did, he did with utmost
sincerity – be it a daily chore like brushing his two teeth or having a meal or
a serious activity like reading scriptures. He would spend an hour and a half
studying (not just reading) one of the epics in Sanskrit – say Ramayanam and
take months to finish it. Then he would start with Mahabharatam / Shakuntalam / Meghasandesham. He had the
motivation, energy, concentration and patience even at 80 plus to do a detailed
study. He was a voracious reader; he was into the classics of English
literature too.
Paati would have her lunch at
10, Thatha at 11. She would set everything on the dining table and he would
serve himself as Paati would be enjoying her siesta. There were times when
he would walk down slowly to the accompaniment of the 'tut tut' sound of
his walking stick - from the dining table to Paati's couch, bend down and ask
her, "Pappadam illayo? Innakku kaalanaakkum..." (Is there no
pappadam? Today we are having 'kaalan' for lunch). He was particular that there
should be pappadam on the day when ‘kaalan’ was in the menu. Paati would
raise her head and say, "Oh I must have forgotten. It is in ..." He
would say, "Naan eduthukkaren. (I will help myself...)". If I
were at home, I would get to watch this cute scene! Thatha was in his eighties
and Paati around 68 – often there would be banter on whether they
"eat to live or live to eat"! Thatha would get his share of
snacks powdered as he had only two front upper teeth for ages (which he would
meticulously brush morning and night).
Tiffin time was at 2 p.m. Since I would be
back from school at 4, I wouldn't be able to enjoy hot dosas / idlis. I
didn't mind that of course. But I wouldn't touch maida dosa / wheat flour dosa
as it would be rubbery when cold. And 'upma' was a ‘no no’ for me! So on
those days I'd get two whole 'nendrapazham chuuttadu' / Modern bread - I'd
toast 4 slices, lavishly apply home-made butter with a sprinkle of salt
and ...yummy..... Ah those were the days!
On Sundays Athai would make some special
item like puri-masala / masala dosa etc. And I'd be asked to set aside a
second helping for 5 p.m. Athai was a good cook – you should look at her
awesomely twisted ‘kai murukku’! She was adept in engaging toddlers in interesting conversations. She was a Jill of all trades. She played the
veena very well; she was endowed with a great voice and was very well-versed in
Carnatic music. She kept her interest alive and would spend time even in the
midst of her busy schedule to listen to the AIR music program and learn some
news keertanams. The whole family had a flair for Carnatic music (they hailed from a family of musicians) – I don’t
think Paati could sing but all of them could even identify ragas and enjoyed
‘kucheri’s. When I started learning music when I was there, Athai would keep
reminding me to sing in an open-throated voice and every time I’d sing I’d be
self-conscious and even developed an inferiority complex. I couldn't and wouldn't match up to her any day; so I’d rather be contented with my own genre
of music, I thought and stuck to film music. I took up the first excuse after a
year to bid goodbye to Carnatic music lessons – I was in tenth standard and had
to focus on studies! Talking about Athai’s versatility, she learnt to drive the
car at fifty plus, after having had a chauffeur for years. She was driving
pretty well and with confidence when she had a minor accident and then it was
goodbye to the steering wheel!
Dinner time was 8 p.m. - not a moment here
or there. If Paati called Thatha over at 7.58, he'd point to the clock and
tell her that there were two minutes to go and get up only as the clock started
chiming. His dinner was 'kanji' and a banana while Paati's was one tall
glass of milk and two bananas. Only Athai and I would sit down to enjoy the
relaxed meal of the day. Half an hour of sitting around and we'd retire to bed
at 9.
The threesome would spend the evenings in
the front yard and indulge in small talk and analysis of current topics. One of Thatha's favorite nephews Pappa was a regular visitor. All the four had booming
voices and each would seem to try to drown the others. Another reason for the
loud volume was probably the fact that Thatha was a bit hard of hearing. I
would feel that passersby must be pausing for a moment at the gate to convince
themselves that it was not a fight but just an innocent discussion. If I had to
focus on my studies I’d seek out the remotest corner and plug my ears with my
fingers! At times I'd join them intermittently yet briefly. Whenever there
was news about the demise of a relative / friend, one would comment, “Bhagyavaan!
Poi cherndaan” (lucky fellow, he’s gone). I could never understand then why
they called the fellow lucky – now I do! As we get old, we start thinking about
‘a peaceful death’! Paati was well-informed as she would read Malayalam paper
in detail and even glance through the English daily. She would also offer
her comments on the current political scene too! And her English was
pretty decent too - considering the fact that she hadn't gone beyond Class V. I
remember when I started studying Sanskrit for the first time; I was
looking up Bhandarkar's book and learning. Guess what? Paati came and
started reeling off - "gam-gach" - to go ... (see I can't even go
beyond one now and there was my 65 plus Paati narrating the entire page -
in sequence - mind you, what she had learnt when she was 9!) What a memory!
At times we'd have some relatives /
friends joining them. Occasionally Thatha did boast about his well-placed
children. But the old man can be pardoned for his rightful pride about his
children. It would be fun to listen to Thatha telling his few
evening visitors about his children. He'd begin with, "My eldest son
is an MP ..." and Paati would give me a naughty wink and smilingly murmur
in an aside, "My daughter is the Principal ... and my youngest son is the Chief Engineer
in Andamans ...” Due to Thatha’s
weakened powers of hearing, he would miss Paati's naughtiness. But there
were times when he would hear what was not meant to be heard and there
would be a nice drama - a war of words!
A MIXED BAG
It needs no saying that Thatha was an
academician and also took personal interest in the children’s studies. He would
spend an hour and a half every morning studying (not just reading) one of the
epics in Sanskrit – Ramayanam and take months to finish it. Then he would start
with Mahabharatam and then with Kalidasa. Dickens, Shaw and Mark Twain were his
favorites; also adventure stories as well as Shakespeare’s plays, Jane Austin’s
romantic novels. A voracious reader himself, it was he who introduced me
to the English classics. Beginning with R.L.Stevenson, he'd regularly gift me
and my brother (my sister was too young then), Dictionaries and Dickens.
We would also have debates and discussions on Mr. Pickwick / Elizabeth / Emma. He'd also inquire about the books I had read during vacations after I had left Trichur.
He was also the one who taught me the basics of tennis and cricket and both of us would enjoy listening to running commentaries of the matches on the radio. I also turned a big fan of Ramanathan Krishnan and Premjit Lal as well as Sunny and Vish.
We would also have debates and discussions on Mr. Pickwick / Elizabeth / Emma. He'd also inquire about the books I had read during vacations after I had left Trichur.
He was also the one who taught me the basics of tennis and cricket and both of us would enjoy listening to running commentaries of the matches on the radio. I also turned a big fan of Ramanathan Krishnan and Premjit Lal as well as Sunny and Vish.
Thatha was good at Mathematics and he was
always there for me when I needed help. No good student would go for tuition in those days. I would try a problem for 10-15 minutes and then decide it
was not worth spending more time on it - when I had a mathematical genius
at hand - ever ready to help! The trickster that I was, I would hand him over
the problem at night. He would promise to look into it the next morning. I’m
sure he was not that gullible but perhaps he didn't mind being taken for a ride
by his dear granddaughter; also he couldn't resist the call of his favorite
subject. When I'd return from school the next day, Thatha would hand me
the solution - most of the time. On rare occasions he would need a couple
of days to solve! I couldn't trick my Athai with such impunity! I was
scared of her; also she was busy - I would go on piling my doubts in
Physics and venture to ask her one day before the examination. She'd
explain a couple of concepts but would become impatient with me for
waiting till the last minute. I'd dread getting teased / scolded by her and
bury the remaining doubts!
Thatha was good in English too - a
voracious reader, he'd gift us classics and encourage us to read them in
our vacations. He'd give me valuable tips on composition work too. I
appeared for Xth and XIIth board examinations when I was with them. I am sure
they would have prayed for me. I would return home around 1.30 p.m. after
my examination only to find Thatha sitting on his bed, gazing through the
window at the gate for my arrival. The moment I'd enter, he'd look up at me and
ask, "How was it?" and I'd go something like, "It was good
but I'll lose half mark in Grammar." Why?" his impatience
would reverberate in his voice. I'd reply, "I thought the question
was about ..." Before I could even finish, he'd say, "Never say
I thought so. Never say I didn't think so. Always think right. Okay?"
Pearls of wisdom which I held onto and passed on to others! Overhearing a
part of our conversation, Paati would pipe out, "Well, what
happened?" As I'd try to explain to her, "Paati, I think I'll lose
half mark ...”, she would blurt out, “Pass aavaya?" (Will you pass?).
I'd look at her in disbelief but the
crinkle of laughter in her tone and eyes would reveal she was just teasing
me! Need I say that I came out with flying colors? I won't and I shouldn't
because that's what I have learnt from them - they would never praise /
boast about a family member to others; they believed in listening to the
praise showered by others!
There were so many little things which I
admired about my grandparents. One thing that impressed me was the way Thatha
put the salary of each of the employees in a neat envelope and handed it
to each on the 1st of every month – a decent gesture which I’m sure thrilled
the servants too. When I was with them, I was allowed one movie a month –
preferably matinee show on Sunday with family friends. But the problem was some
months would see no good movie releasing and some months would be crazy
with a couple of hit movies hitting the theaters. When I complained to Thatha,
he understood my point and he started pocket money of Rs.5 for me - for
doing odd jobs for him - including keeping my study table clean. I had to
use that for movies. I was happy too! See he was not rigid but was logical
enough to see my point - an example of democracy at home.
My Paati had her set of rules too but she
was such a darling that I’d jump them and let her keep cribbing helplessly. She
would not want me to go out for a movie in the sun on Sunday – after an oil
bath. She would insist that I take the umbrella with me – I’d not say no – I
knew better than that. But I’d pretend to have conveniently forgotten! And
pocket her scolding on my return! Tell me which teenager would like to be seen
with a clumsy umbrella in the company of friends, that too at the movie theater?
Paati was generosity personified. She
considered the servants a part of the family and always gave them large
helpings of food items – her claim was that they did a lot of physical work and
would be hungrier than us! How many of us have this mentality? My grandparents
had acres of agricultural land and had enjoyed everything in plenty – chakka
(jack fruits), manga (mangoes), bananas, grains … I was and still am a big fan
of jack fruit! Also I would be away from Thrissur in May- June on holiday with
my parents. So I would try to enjoy as much jack fruit as I could and mind you, I
was a greedy teenager. Paati in all her usual generosity would leave huge
chunks for the servants and I would keep reminding her that I would eat the
next day and the day after … and she would insist there was plenty ……
Thatha could be a kid when he had to
tackle a kid – and he could go to any extent! I can't help laughing when I
think of my fad for tooth powder. I used to eat - yes EAT spoonfuls of tooth powder
a couple of times a day when no one was watching. First it was 'Nanjangode' and
later 'Gopal' tooth powder. Thatha didn't suspect foul play when he had to
include 4 packets of tooth powder in the grocery list every month. More
than half of it would find its way to my stomach. He would never have known
about it but for my brother Ramesh. He was visiting, both of us had a tiff
and he spilled the beans to Thatha. He must have been flabbergasted but
he took it coolly; he never raised his voice at me. He simply started taking the
trouble of rationing out a teaspoon of tooth powder every morning and
night, hiding the bottle of tooth powder in the strangest of places, changing
the secret spot constantly - all within the four walls of his small
bedroom! Undaunted, I would secretly try to fish it out. In fact it became
a challenge for both of us - winning this tug-of-war! I think he never knew I
had discovered the secret spot but chose to change it all the same - just
in case, you see! I have to admit that I was defeated with respect to one particular
spot – I just couldn't find it - it was three days and I was desperate without
spoons of tooth powder which had become an addiction! It was again my
brother – this time to my rescue - he strolled into Thatha's room
imperceptibly as he was engaged in the process of taking out the tooth powder
for the day and whispered into my waiting ears. I would never ever have
imagined that he would hide the bottle inside the huge, wide-mouthed, unused
flask sitting on top of his wooden cupboard!
THE INSEPARABLE TRIO
Both my grandparents were in decent health
but I think the later generations were more active at their age - my
father used to drive at 75 while Thatha needed a walking stick to move around!
Somehow he had always used the walking stick for his walk – even in his 60's – I
don’t think he really needed it then: perhaps that was the in thing those days!
Paati had arthritis and knee problem. But that didn't prevent her from
managing the home with the cook and servants while Athai attended to her
profession. Thatha and Paati were there for Athai through and through: I've been a big admirer of this inseparable trio!
The least anyone would expect would be
that they took charge of Vasanta, educated her and performed her marriage.
But what is admirable is that they never left Athai at any point during their
lifetime. They stayed with her contrary to the norms and never moved in
with either of their sons which to an extent is considered the norm - even
today. I told you they were rebels – for a good cause and much ahead of their
times. They cared too hoots about what others would say! They would visit the
sons of course for a month or two and were very fond of their families but
their base was always with Ankichi.
Soon after Athai retired at 55, they moved
to Ernakulam. She was afflicted by rheumatoid arthritis and was in bad
shape, needing assistance even for her daily routine. It was tough, to say the
least but nothing was impossible for them. The threesome did try to manage for
some time. That was when I got married. Unfortunately none of them could
make it to Madras for the occasion - that was a great disappointment for
all of us as I was really special to them; it was an irony that Athai who would attend every relative's wedding was unable to attend her favorite niece's (actually I was almost a daughter to her) wedding. Of course we visited them to take
their blessings soon after the wedding; unfortunately there were no videos to show them,
just black & white photos!
Within six months they chose to shift
base to an independent house in Madras as Vasanta was there and Dharmu was
based in not-so-far-off-Pondicherry. Thatha passed away a few months
later. (My elder son was born the next year - his star was the same as Thatha's!) Meanwhile Athai's new house in Madras was ready, thanks to Vasanta's
drive and the two old ladies moved in there. It was difficult to say who
took care of who - perhaps each took care of the other and managed with
the servants with Vasanta dropping by every day to see to their needs.
This continued even when my parents settled in Madras. I was lucky that they were able to spend some time with my sons too whenever we visited Madras. Athai's
condition was deteriorating and Paati’s knees were getting weaker with
every passing day. You can't but applaud the sheer will power and
determination of the aged mother- daughter duo to stick together through thick
and thin, come what may! How many of us can boast of such super strength
of character? Paati passed away in 1982 five months after my sister's son was born. It was then that Athai who was in her
late sixties moved in with Vasanta as there was no choice.
ATHAI’S LATER YEARS
Athai continued to uphold her sense of
humor till her end. Rheumatoid arthritis took its toll on her mobility as well
as her fingers. Whenever we’d visit her during our annual Madras visit, she’d
have a punch line to keep us in splits. The most poignant self-comment which
managed to bring smiles and tears in us was, “Don’t I look like Indira Gandhi
now? It’s my new hairstyle.” She had to get her salt-n-pepper hair short so
that she’d not need an assistant to braid it. Sometimes I’d wonder why life had
to be so cruel to her - losing her husband in her twenties, then drowning
herself in academics, finding solace and satisfaction in her profession and
finally when it was time to stretch her legs and throw up her hands in a
relaxed mode, arthritis striking a cruel blow immobilizing her and restricting her
to the wheel chair. After fourteen years of physical suffering, she had more in
store – she was bedridden and even with the best of care couldn't escape bedsores and snatches of poor memory during the last few months of her life.
But those who know her well will only remember her laughter and good cheer, her
sincere dedication, hard work, love, concern, her strictness and uprightness.
When she passed away in 1988, I could not but wonder why God had to be so cruel
to her – in her prime as well as old age. Agreed she had a satisfying
professional career and a glorious sense of achievement but that was due to her
untiring efforts and her parents’ support and guidance.
Even now when I think of my grandparents,
I cannot but go down memory lane and relive those years of gay abandon /
growing-up process as I basked in the warmth of their care and affection. Truly
my head bows in reverence and love for those noble souls!
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