I went to my grandmother’s place to spend my break from college, its onam over here. The festival of all malayalees……….
My grandmother lives with my uncle and his wife at a small town called cherthala. She’s a retired school teacher.she’s also the most efficient, fun person I can remember. Even though she’s retired and nearly 80 she calls the shots at her house. She does all the house work alone with a little assistance from her daughter in law for whom she has utmost contempt(no offense). My poor aunt is no match for the fiery personality of my grandma. That does not mean she’s mean to her. She just ……..how do i put it, tolerates very patiently the irritation that she suffers due to the unworldliness of my aunt.
Any way, I hopped on a bus this Monday and went off to visit my ammamma. She’s one cool grandmother and the many summers of my child hood that I spent with her are the most delightful experiences I ever had. I never knew my grandfather, who passed away due to a heart attack when my mom was in college. my ammamma brought up my mom and her three young siblings all on her own. She maintained the family property, married off all her children including the youngest, her only boy in true Indian fashion…then she shed her strict rule over her children and made her home a heaven for her grand kids. she can put any teenager to shame with her bustling energy and the discipline and vigour with which she approaches any task in front of her…..one busy bee she is, a clever one too…she has all the right tricks up her sleeve, from handling her troublesome domestic help to showing us kids how to have a goodtime………
I reached there Monday afternoon and scrambled up the back porch in the rain. expecting her to be cooking up roast fish by her antiquated little kitchen with its stone stove with wood burning in it. I called out to her and saw her emerge from her room down the hall from the kitchen and dining area. She had a book in her hand and her reading glasses on. Her face lit up and her familiar voice called ‘aa…..ethiyo?..’ she laughed. She had been waiting even though I hadn’t called to tell I her I’d come that day. I felt like I had come home at last. The murky life back with my parents shed off and my mind restored for a second….she talked in her witty style, cracking me up with her humour.she had been reading in her room, trying to beat the rain which was playing spoilsport with her onam plans. "I was sewing earnestly all of last evening, I even missed a good movie that your uncle brought home…I sat in my room and sewed up everything there was to sew in this house"…she said with a smile… " then I woke up this morn and I can’t even sit up….this is what I get for my sincere pains!" she said in her familiar banter and I started laughing again…its going to be a good onam.
I called up my two cousins who were in town. They said they’ll get there that evening. By then my grandma had got a big fire going in her kitchen. she was out of gas due ‘wicked pilferers’ in her gas company , but ever the soldier, she was cooking everything on her traditional wood fed stove and a little contraption called ‘the mannanna aduppu’the extinct kerosene stove…… the strong smells and flavours of her spices mixed with the comforting warm smell of smoke wafted out of the blackened chimney. …
I changed into the salwar kameez which I had bought especially for her sake. You see, my grand mother prefers to see me dressed like a young woman than like a brat in shorts which is my style back home. So eventhough I came wearing a jeans I needed to blend into the country side in order not to offend. Nobody messes with ammamma’s rules!……..
Soon enough the dining table was set and I sat down to lunch with my aunt and uncle. As always my plate contained enough food for three and on top of it ammamma served her delicious curries. Fried fish, cooked fish in coconut, tangy white mango curry with coconut gravy…the works……
my grandmother never sits down to lunch with the rest of us.she runs around the table serving food. she makes sure everyone’s done, she then cleans her kitchen, takes a shower and then eats at a kitchen side in peace.thats her style.rarely, she sits down with all the women folk during gettogethes where all the ladies waitill their husbands and kids to clear out so they can gossip and eat in a peaceful pace.but today I ate with my uncle who runs a hardware and building material store on the street where my grandma’s house stands and of course my dull aunt. I felt suffocated. My uncle, a tall goodlooking man with all my grandma’s fine features in a much darker shade, tried to make small talk, but it burnt out soon and I fled to the safety of the kitchen…..
he evening saw the coming of my cousins, a brother sister duo born to my mom’s younger sister ‘vava’…that means ‘baby’ in English… ammamma’s face brightened up further and she busied herself making sure we were well fed… new delicacies and onam dishes emerged. We followed her around , fascinated by her quickness, and eager to help. We skinned onions, ground dried spices and cut raw plantains to make chips….all done squatting on the kitchen verandah on ammamma’s low wooden stools only two or three inches high. In the mornings we went around picking flowers with her and made up designs with them on the courtyard. Every now and then she’d disappear and then emerge with more flowers in her hand and new design suggestion….
