Relations!

Relations….. they are very special. Never know their value as long as they are a part of our lives… within our reach. Once they perish, u wish u had more of it. Strange!!! One such relation I forgot to treasure & now I do with all my heart and soul is one I shared with a man who took the lives long drive two generations ahead of me-my grandfather. I don’t know why he didn’t mean so much to me then- perhaps he was too strict, to the extent that I was awarded the most “calm & quiet” student in my kindergarten days . He was strict to the extent that my cousins never wanted to spend their vacation at our place. He was full of restrictions – don’t run, you might fall n get hurt, don’t shout, don’t make noise, don’t go beyond an earshot’s distance. He takes our name once twice n then there should be no thrice- we should be in front of him. God, I was so scared of him... not just me, so were the entire family & esp the kids.

I was in my 9^th std; it was the 7^th of Jan 1999. I was back home from school & as was the custom I kissed my grandpa on his forehead. I felt an unusual chilliness about him- he was unusually cold. I asked my mom why and she said she had wiped his face with a wet clothe. Moreover he was ill and we were expecting our family doctor. As he came my grandpa kept shouting orders –“open the door, get him tea, etc and he wanted all of us to be around him. As we stood there the doc checked his pulse and & sat with his prescription pad, reluctant to write anything. Perhaps, he knew… grandpa looked around, at all of us & asked the doc- “shall I lie down?” & yes he did. He took three deep breaths & that was it. A man who was shouting orders just few minutes back was no more… it took some time for us to realize what went wrong- it was hard to digest, the fact that he just died in front of our eyes .

As the saying goes- u never know the value of a thing till it’s lost. Here, it was him. Right from my childhood, a person whose silhouette eclipsed my freedom- for anything & everything-his permission was a prerequisite. Getting admission @ school, assigning me tuition teachers, dance classes, music lessions, progress reports, scheduling my “TV-Watching” hours-everything was monitored by him. I needed no alarm as it was he who used to wake me up-“study, its exam time”. He determined when should I wake up, how should I eat, whom should I play with. Talk about playing – he never let me go to my neighbors place to play n so I happened to have all elderly friends- our dhobi, our helpers in the kitchen. If at all I did any mischief (I don remember I did any) they would call him “acho…. Dende devikkunju adukkalel….” that was it… he would take my name with all his might n I would go in front him, shuddering as I know what would come next- thrashings!!! He would spank me with a cane carefully designed out of the stem of coffee plant (I used to hate that plant for that very reason). Kitchen was no place for kids n entering that prohibited area was a serious breach of law. He would be the happiest if I would sit near him and talk all day. He just loves to talk- about his school days, his childhood, the days he went hunting in the deep forest and the animals he encountered there. I don’t think any other grandchild know about his elder brother who died; after he fell from a speeding horse. I heard from my mom that I was the only grandchild who got a chance to sleep on his bed. He never let any…

The first person at home to have a look at my text books at the beginning of every academic year would be him. My progress cards were strictly scanned by him & to his utter dismay he realized that I was weak @ math. There started his hunting for a tuition teacher for improving my math skills. He would call me every now & then n ask, “What were u doing?” to which my answer would be “studying” and then he would reply “I was just checking”. My outburst of fury would make me close the door with a loud bang & then he would call me again & come close to me, look deep into my eyes and ask- “do u know who am i. I’m your father’s father.” Anger in me evaporates and there enters peril… :)

One person who knew the art of tackling him was my sis. She knew how to escape his ferocious stares and his caning (that was exclusively for me n one of my cousin brothers).

I missed him when all good things happened in my life- my class 10 results, me becoming an engineer & me being he first of his grand daughters to have started working. I knew he would have been happy n proud.

If today I hate being late, I hate to make people wait for me, I wake up when I know I need to, I fold the newspaper back to the way it was; many similar things that might look silly- it’s all because of him. If at all I have some discipline left in me that’s because of him. I should be thanking him for all these favors. That’s how he still lives in me- as the rules that he set to make my life a lot better.

mY bEst buDdy

My new home Somehow, I managed to complete 12 years of an almost solitary school life and then my parents decides to sent me out of home and I became a prisoner in St.Josephs Convent. It was for my convenience and not to tire me with the hectic journey to my school (which was almost 15 kms from my home); that accounts for my almost “skinny” appearance according to my parents and teachers...For the first time in my life, I was surrounded by strange people. I longed for weekends so that I could get back home.. Fridays never seemed to come! And within a blink of an eyelid it would be a Monday again. How I used to hate MONDAYS!!!(as though I don’t hate them now). Slowly I got used to the hostel life. Right from waking up early morning when one of those nuns start ringing the “wake up” bell, to going to church for the mass before the sun comes out of hiding, to having to wait in a never ending queue for my turn to take bath, to having to have the dishes I hated the most for breakfast and the worst part…those study timings…when you have the strongest desire to succumb to a slumber … I was in a different world where I had to face a lot of restrictions… and in the chase to cope with all the new rules and stuff I had a new set of people in my life….my peers…Litty, Linta, Tiny, Treasa, Preethy, Niya……quite a bunch of them… The Intruder And then there came an intruder into this gang of hostel girls…To be frank I was not so happy with this girl cos she appeared a bit arrogant to me. Later when she took off her high heeled shoes ,I discovered, much to my glee that she was shorter than me…for a person who finds being the first person in the school assembly line, the most annoying thing… this was indeed a matter of joy…That was all I liked about this new face. I was not so happy having her around and the least I could do was give her a polite smile when ever she came across… This was the last person whom I can have for a friend. It was almost a week since she joined us and in spite of my pretensions I could not stop laughing at her hilarious jokes…she had a knack of imitating people (especially teachers) which we thoroughly enjoyed…The ice-berg was melting little by little…After supper we had a break for almost half an hour during which we could exercise our “talking at the top of our voice” skills. At times we can hear laughter bells chiming from the insides of the convent; even the nuns are having fun. Those precious 30 minutes brought life inside that otherwise gloomy, highly walled convent that spread across quite few acres. The merry hour took off the melancholy veil surrounding that convent. This was the time we discussed things n people at school…gossiping…teasing…what not…In those talks the main narrator would be her, it was her show… Winds of change All those chats and stuff got us closer. She was not my class mate but we became friends very soon…As friendship grew fights also became common…all stupid n silly fights that lasted for not more than a couple of minutes or at the worst few hours. She, the person whom I thought would never fit my definition of a friend was fast becoming one…the first person whom I fondly called “MY BEST BUDDY”->she knows that I am talking about her… :) Now I know it was not my fault that I had a poor affinity to friendships. I actually never gave it a try. I have retained the friendship of the girl, on whom I had a ‘not so good’ impression -till date and I am glad I did. Should I believe in the saying that “first impression is the best impression” anymore? :) Now when I look at my life surrounded by friends…so many of them who really care about me, who tutor me when I go wrong, who has very well adapted to my mood swings that before even I know tears filing my eyes-they slap me.. :) thanks to all u buddies…. ….