My memories of You

I read recently in a not so famous book ,that the saddest part of losing a loved one is when you realize that you have finally moved on ….that you can live without them .And if you thought so otherwise , it was during that moment when your heart is trying to burst due to overwhelming grief .

Initially your grief comes to you like an angry wave on a high tide ,lashing against all defenses …then slowly the intensity decreases ,reducing to ripples that broke smaller and less fierce and you watch them come towards you and stop short, not reaching you and you stand there watching ,being aware that they cannot grasp you anymore , nor disorient you , but only leave the frothiness and carry a bit of sand from under your feet .

And hence here I am, trying to pick up the pieces of my memories and polish them and preserve them before they fade too.

My first memories as a child is associated with the morning cycle ride from my home at Konni to “the tailoring shop” .I do not remember the name of the shop but at present Konni Telephone exchange is located at the place where the shop used to be. My school pick up car used to halt in front of the shop .It was about 15 minutes ride and my daddy’s cycle had this green coloured tiny seat fitted in the front for me .I do not know if we had any conversations during that ride .But once in a blue moon ,he used to buy me steaming dosa’s with coconut chutney from a shop on the way .It was during my pre-primary and primary years ,till third standard . I can still clearly see myself sitting slightly hunched on that tiny seat and feel my daddy’s face nuzzling my hair .This will remain as one unforgettable memory of mine about my daddy .

Then comes books. He bought books for me ,Balarama.Poompatta, Amar Chitra katha,Paico Classics and many story books. Here I see myself seated on the doorstep , on the eve of my social studies exam of third standard ,reading “Thacholi Othenan “ and my mother scolding daddy for buying story books during examination .We had this yearly visits to my daddy’s native village Kattanam during summer vacations. On the way, our bus “Prabhat” used to halt for 15 minutes at Pandalam right outside a Bata showroom, which used to sell books too. He used to buy books and sometimes allowed me to accompany him and choose one for myself . If I am a voracious reader today ,it is only because of my daddy and I have passed this legacy to my elder son .

I have a rather terrifying memory too .My daddy excelled in Mathematics and he used to teach me the subject .He lacked patience and his teaching method was more of scolding and less explaining .I hated maths then and I remember him slapping my mother once.(which is my only memory of him slapping mommy ) .I can still recollect her words .
She said “ You are mad like your mom .Why are you beating her? Can you never teach anything without scolding and beating? “. He just got up and gave one tight slap on the side of her face.

There after most of my memories are terrifying .He wanted me to be always first in the class and I had tough competition with Mercy Joseph and Binu Annie John .Whenever I failed to come first, me and my mom used to invent stories to escape the wrath of daddy , in which the fault would be of the teacher and me an innocent victim of some unfair game. I do not know if he really believed those stories but my mommy had to go through severe mental torture to save me from daddy’s punishments which would be harsh words and more rebuke.

There was a very huge distance between me and daddy .I was scared of him and always tried to get out of his way .Whenever he was at home ,I used to sit with books. I cannot remember any normal conversation between us other than asking for marks or words of reprimand .I always believed that I am not his daughter and hence his dislike for me .This sowed in me seeds of low self esteem and I became an introvert .

There is a particular scene which keeps replaying in my mind .I was in seventh or eighth standard and my sister was in fourth or fifth .Mommy made tapioca and chutney with green chilly . Lincey splashed the spicy green chilly chutney in my eyes since she got angry with me over something and my father did not scold her .I felt so heart broken and let down that day and I think deep down somewhere in my heart I resented my sister form that day on ,since she was my daddy’s favourite. Or so I believed.

I did not mean to summon up my painful recollections but I happened to go back to my four year old self and travel with my flow of thoughts and feel once again what I felt during each one of those occasions , joyful and distressing . I never thought them to have the clarity with which I see them even now.

Daddy and Mommy and their kind of Love

Five more days for my Dad's first death anniversary.Two days ago, Linta rang me up from London ,to tell me that Mommy was under depression for a couple of days.I loathed myself for not reading it from her words ,which she speaks to me everyday.I realized that I have been so caught up with my life here that my conversations with her were just that ...mere conversations...insensitive ...hurried ...

My Mom..I wish I could erase a few pages from her life and rewrite them all over again.I would change her life partner in my version of her story .My Dad was not at all the person whom she dreamed about , though he loved her in his own way.She expected a friend with whom she could share everything and Dad was uncommunicative.This was and still remains my mom's one regret about the years she spent with my Dad
I could do nothing about it other than lend my ear to her grievances.She survived despite their differences and I wonder if the bitterness succeeded in clouding all those good memories she had of their life together.
She was always a giver and hence a person who is taken for granted.My taciturn daddy and suppressed mommy.But still I have observed this unspoken words of love and affection between these two people who are poles apart in their nature.
I recollect this vivid picture of daddy leaving a portion of all those delicacies which mommy would make for him,at the corner of his plate and his voice calling out for her to come and collect the plate.It was my daddy's way of acknowledging " I know that you give all the best portions for me and your children.This is for you .Now eat it before the girls take it away too." I am a witness to this silent declaration of love and have also heard it many times from my mommy .

Daddy was never a person to express his tender feelings towards his children. But I know that we were the world to him ...his universe.
Does love need display ? Yes.Yes because then you don't have to dissect and analyse actions to assign this or that particular act as a declaration of love. It is just like pulling out the petals of a flower repeating 'he loves me,he loves me not ...he loves me ..he loves me not ...and you are never sure what you would end up with .

It took years for my doubting mind to have complete assurance of my daddy's love.Hence it is not a predicament which I would wish for anyone.
My Mommy would have hoped for something more than these snippets which are difficult to preserve with its total warmth and radiance.She wouldn't have to have pasted Daddy's photos in the kitchen and for once,complain and impute him for all his dominance through this one sided exchange.
She is donning up a brave exterior for our sake but she needs someone to talk to,face to face and not this everyday telephonic conversations.By believing her facade, we are doing her the same wrong.She needs someone with flesh and blood,next to her,when she talks and not a photo or a voice at the other end of the line.

P.A.O.S.U.I....meaning PHINNAEUS

Winter holidays are zooming away and the countdown have already started .Kids are using the last two days for full time playing and me for reading .
My younger one Phinneaus came up to me telling ” Mom see I have written M for MOM.He had marker stains on his fingers and his forearm had a big “M” .And on his left palm he had written “PAOSUI”.I went to inspect the extent of damages he had done to his room playing with the marker .Nothing much , just this word “PAOSUI “ on his toy boxes and bigger toys .The rest of them had just a “P” inscribed on them .

I was wondering who this PAOSUI is ,maybe some word he found from his Chinese toys.
I asked him where he found the word “PAOSUI” .He replied innocently ,”Mom,you don’t know anything .It is not Paosui ..it is “P.A.O.S.U.I” , Phinnaeus..”

The little chap was writing his name on his toys .I think it is high time that I have a word with his teacher .Is this how they teach phonetics in school…? Or maybe I should have given him an easier name to spell.....
Whatever be the case, of all the possible spellings he chose a Chinese sounding one …..PAOSUI…I guess his brother is going to use it to tease him for the rest of his life ....or at least till he gets something new .

Of course there is a lot in a name

Recently we were watching a malayalam movie in which there is a character named "kalidasan" .After the movie,the discussion was why didn't we name our younger one with an exotic Indian name say Kalidasan ...
Ashkenaz and his brother Kalidasan ....
In a way the name would be apt since he says he is mama's boy and his mom is nicknamed Bhadhrakali by his Dad, owing to way she acts when she gets really mad at them...
At the end I decided that I would call my dear Phinnaeus, "Kalidasa" as and when I like which he protested immediately and declared ." Call me only Appu or baby or Phinnaeus.I am not kalidasan .What do you mean by Kalidasan,kalidasan ...?"

His brother used the name to tease him once or twice and stopped .
Ashkenaz is very proud of his unique name though he used to ask me during his preschool days "Mama why didn't you give me an easy name.Nobody understands my name".
Now he is extremely proud since he aware that he has a rare and excellent name with Biblical roots and he is called ASH by his friends who do not want to call him his full name.

There is a lot in a name....

My Pre-School

I dreamt once again that I was back at school.I couldn’t study well for the exam and moreover I got up late and was really running behind. This is one of my recurring dreams which always wakes me up in cold sweat only to heave a sigh of relief when I realize it was only a nightmare.
I wish instead of this scary one, if only I had dreams about the beautiful times I had with my friends.
My very first memory of school is the smell of warm milk which my teacher used to pour out from the flask that we had to carry from home .How I hated that smell and even now I dislike milk. As a pre-schooler I detested school. My bus stop was a tailoring shop, ran by an old man who was a communist. He used to allow me to go through his boxes of pamphlets with the symbol of scythe, hammer and a star and I remember taking bunches of them along with me. My bus driver had a tough time every day since I used to hide behind the boxes and he had to carry a kicking and screaming me and place me inside the bus.
My teachers were all Anglo-Indians and they trained us in the western culture .My best friend was Finny ,a boy who loved to grow his hair really long .Our class teacher Loretta miss once tied his hair with rubber band since he refused to get his hair cut. His granny and mine were friends and I used to tell everyone who would listen, that he was my cousin. I learned my first steps of ball-room dancing at school with Finny as my partner. I left my alma-mater; St Mary’s R.E.M.H.S for an year and later rejoined as a fifth-grader. Same year Finny left school and I have no idea regarding his whereabouts till date.
It is so weird and wonderful how certain memories refuse to go away .I can still see myself as a child in a blue pinafore before the flask of milk and walking up the stairs with Finny holding my hand ,the two memories of my Pre-school that remains still vivid .

Krishna Ray that I knew.

Sometimes even the sweetest of the memories pale as years go by, leaving behind just a faint whiff of whatever feelings that came along with that memories.
So here I am, inscribing them so that when I wish to fish them out some day,I would acquire them strong as ever.
During my first year at Sanjivani, my direct interaction with our Vice-principal, Krishna ray was almost nil. But there was no dearth of gossips .Eventually I became aware of the different groups that existed in our school .I took special care to keep myself distant from these so called groups .
Towards the ending of the session ,one fine day, we were all summoned to our Principal’s office to discuss the most shocking event of that year ,the sudden oust of a senior teacher .Instead of thrashing out behind closed doors ,we had to witness the washing of dirty linen in public. Allegations after allegations were thrown at Krishna .All the while she sat there ,holding together her dignity ,not losing her temper , giving clarification to all the charges.That was the moment when I first made personal judgement about Krishna .She secured a place so high above everyone present there. I never troubled myself in finding out if any of those accusations were true or not.For me she became the synonym of restraint.
When the new session commenced, I was promoted as the primary co-ordinator and she called into her cabin to instruct me about the expectations from the school management side.
There is a lesson that I learned through the hard way.If you wish to tell someone something, do not delay;for, time doesn’t wait till you gather the courage to blurt it out. That day I told her about how I placed her on a pedestal from the day of her trial at the Principal’s office. She was quiet for a moment and then her eyes welled up .That day I realized on more fact, she is not used to getting compliments for her work and what she is .Not from our school anyway.
The past four months, I got the opportunity to work alongside her.My respect for her as a person grew every day.Her ability to not let her emotions rule her words and actions,that cool and relaxed exterior is what that I admire about her.
Our respect and affection was mutual. On an occasion, while I was writing my resignation letter, she literally caught hold of me and dragged me to our Director’s office, sorting out the issue in no time.She told me not to act when negative emotions are strong, to wait and make decisions when you get the clutter out of your mind.
The last few days of hers as a Sanjivanite, must have been the most beautiful ones for her. Everyone let her knew how much they all loved her and how much they all will be missing her. She was shedding tears of distress and joy.
I am positive that wherever she goes she would gain respect and love for the wonderful person that she is and I know that she would remember me.
I would never forget the great lesson that I learned from Krishna Ray.

Lincey and Me...

November...I can’t wait for November.Two reasons.First, my sisters have already planned their leaves and is tempting me with all their plans .This would be the second get together after my youngest sister’s marriage.Secondly,the thrill of driving down to Kerala.
This Rakshabandhan ,I had been thinking about my sisters.I never realised how close we were till we marriage took us physically apart from each other .
Lincey was the naughty one who always gave my parents trouble.We used to have fights on a daily basis where I used to be the loser.( Though I am admitting it for the first time .)Once I succeeded in pinning her on the wall which Linta witnessed and which I used to boast off every time when I couldn’t beat her in an argument.Or I would call her ,her nickname(I am not exposing that here or else she would reveal more darker secrets of mine.You see she is on Fb too.)which she hated eventhough it was the name which my dad used to call her when he wanted to annoy her.
As a child,she was too lazy to brush her teeth and mom wouldn’t give her food .So she would start her morning raga which sounded exactly like a truck going uphill...uuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh......She was so adamant in every single thing and I strongly believe my younger son has inherited that gene somhow.Don’t ask me how ,maybe I had been thinking about her during my gestation period.
She is the most intelligent and talented among the three of us .My dad wanted her to pursue Physics but she joined for Literature .Her reason ,Physics department was at the crown of hill on which our college is situated and she didn’t want to climb up every day.(Now she is a gazetted officer.)She writes,paints,excellent fashion designer..there is no end to her talents.
She is an adventurous spirit and would act first and then think.It is her name and address in pen-pal column which brought me where I am now.Though she got bored of her pen friends ,the one whom she chose for me later on became my life partner.Even though she tries to remind me that often, I would brush her off, giving the credit to serendipity.
She was always and still remains my best friend .We still have our secret codes which we haven’t revealed even to our husbands.
Adventures of Lincey would be an interesting read which I would write someday ..obviously after she grants me consent.