My heart leapt when I read this...my childhood memories are of my cousins, plenty of them, a houseful of them, of all ages and sizes...

No holiday was worth it, if it wasn't spent in the company of cousins. Come to think of it, the cousins were divided into three groups - the adolsescents, the young things and kids, the bah kind! 

Devanthi, Parthi, Hari and I formed the adolsecent group - the kind that was given the freedom to dictate terms to the little ones, to choose the movies to go to, the music to listen to, the fruits to eat, the game to play, the corner to sleep in, the mattress to lie on, the time to bathe, the work to shirk,  the task to choose to do...The other two groups watched us, fuming and fretting while we held sway over all the fun at aaya's house. 

Devanthi was my buddy, we shared all secrets, we discussed everything under the sun, we held opinions, we fought, we hugged, we liked wearing similar outfits, we liked talking, walking, playing rowdy games, liked running errands for aaya and maami and liked to take part in adventure activities like swimming in the well and running on the sloping roof of the adjacent building and rigging up tents on hot summer days. We could be silent for a long time comfortably together and were even more comfortable calling each other 'di'. 

Parthi and Hari were the comedians, always up to some mischief and fun, always there to offer help, tease, frighten and pull at our plaits...they really did. And, sometimes, methinks, because there were fewer boys they mistook Devanthi and me for boys and included us in all their madcap capers. They were inseparable, they performed cabarets, they hid our things, they drew moustaches on sleeping aunts and cousins, they robbed us of pillows and bedsheets at nights, they made everyone laugh at their jokes and endeared themselves to maami by grinding chutney and gravy mix. They never slept during the daytime, but were always busy doing something or nothing all the time. 

Geeta and Mythili were those caught in between - being neither here nor there. I remember their quarrels and their fondness for one another. 

Kayathri, Karthikayani, Sadha, Yamuna, Sudhakar were the bah! kids...always getting into our hair with their baby games...or so we thought. They knew where their perimeter ended and never encroached our territory. I now feel sad that in the arrogance of youth, we thought they were too small and too young to be included in our games. 

There were the babies - Uma, Vijai, Nalina, Moni, Shivi, Poorani who were there to be petted and pampered as babies. They were there to offer their fat cheeks to be pinched by us...Lord help them, if they cried...we only pinched harder. 

I do not know why, but Krithi for me was a kid sister who, I knew better as an adult...her sweet nature and kindness to all made her larger than life...Thambi was a strange, mystical figure with his pocket sized books filled with philosophical thoughts even when he was in the third standard.

I know my life has been made richer by my cousins . Those days can never come back again, but how colourful and joyful my memories of childhood are ...thank you, dear cousins. You all mean the world to me. 

Today, we are all married, have weathered well and are surrounded by our own extended families, but each of us carries a nugget far too precious to lose. My biggest fear is - what if I lose my memory to age and cannot recognise these people who have given me so much of happiness...well, if that does happen, remember that you enriched the life of a cousin in a way that can never be appreciated enough. 

It was a moment of joy for me when Poorani was officially declared the Principal Designate for the new college called Hosur Institute of Technology - an institution set in serene surroundings. I was there as an Expert member when the COO of the institution made the announcement and proudly introduced her as another Trustee member and designated Principal of the institution. I watcher with pride as she co-ordinated the recruitment process.

I wish all success in her new endeavour. I'm sure the empowerment of women is on the rise in the clan...should be a matter of pride for aaya...she always wanted her daughters and grand daughters to be bold, strong and emotionally stable. 

 

Visits from cousins and grown up sons are always one of the best things to happen. Kayathri paid a visit last week. Shyam was visiting home after one and a half years. Kids who were petted and pampered are today, grown up moms and big boys, nay men, and I suppose the feeling of joy in seeing them must've been the feeling that the elders went through when my generation was growing up. 

I keep thinking how strange it must be to chithis, who tended to me when I was a little one at aaya's house , combing my hair, putting the uniform on me, powdering my face, ministering to the heat boils that erupted all over my body 

( I remember their standard remedy for a stubborn, pus filled boil would be to rub some iodex on a betel leaf and tie it over the boil overnight and voila, the boil would break open and the pus would drain out!).

Today, I'm a mother-in-law and life seems to have come a full cycle. However, the cycle is endless, as the young ones keep growing up, getting married, rearing families, carving  careers for themselves, savouring in the delight of getting together on every occasion possible. 

God bless us all. 

There's excitement in the air. August sees a family get together at Yercaud. Last we got together was at Kotagiri, if I'm not wrong.

We've had get togethers earlier at Mudhumalai, Aasanur, Kotagiri and  Yercaud. 

Mudhumalai was way back, possibly in the late sixties or early 70s when Chandra Maama was a dapper young man, who shepherded us to an enclave of cottages, set right in the middle of the forest, filled with  only the chirping of crickets and nothing else.

What a sight it was, when at night, maama took us kids out, put us into the car and switched on the headlights. For me, it was a magical moment when a hundred pairs of eyes lit up all around us...they were the deer grazing and resting in the woodlot. With bated breath and open mouths, we gazed and gazed and still could not get enough of it. Gosh, I get goosebumps with the memory of it all.   

I remember Aasanur for the accident that Vijay and Shivi met with there, driving the Pulsar. The joy of being together came to an abrupt end when they were laid up in hospital, cheek by jowl, all bandaged and bruised and broken, happily receiving their coterie of girlfriends who were visiting them.

Kotagiri was a beautiful little place, a nice, sunny cottage all for ourselves, a kitchen a short distance away. Rats, mice and other vermin cohabited the space with us at the kitchen, which turned out pooris in hundreds to serve the army of hungry children and adults.

Yercaud - Karadi Boon Bungalow, the Bathija cottage, Cliff's Estate and Fir's Estate - each holds a special place in my memory. 

The first one,  for the steep climb up a slope to reach a beautiful bungalow - warm with wooden floors, beautiful paintings, lush furniture, total isolation from the rest of humanity and the small cave into which one could crawl and lie down in comfort in a larger cave behind it. It was said that Mamootiyaan used to find shelter there. The thundershower that we experienced there was magnificent in scale - I have never seen such profuse sheets of water simply pouring over one's head and the thunder that cracked with the loudness of an atom bomb. 

The Bhathija cottage, easily one of the earliest memories of the 70s or 80s, is there in my mind for the tenniquoit and tennis games that we played with thaatha. I also distinctly remember waking up Bharathi chitappa in the middle of the night, saying 'I'm hungry. I want something to eat' and gorging ourselves on packets and packets of potato chips into the wee hours of the morning. The whispered word games, the toothpaste moustaches and the adventurous walks are fresh in my memory.

Cliff's Estate set right atop a cliff, with the kitchen especially looking out into a deep, deep valley, right out of the window frame, the solitary paths that surrounded the house (strange, I remember the kitchen, not the house) and shouting out from rocks  into the valley surrounded by lush green hills all around : "Hello, I Love You" and hearing the echoes coming back a hundred times and fading out to a whisper, was a dream come true for us  as young people.

Fir's Estate, the huge, run down house with a large dormitory, housing 21 beds, the  sprawling lawn, the  risky walks across coffee gardens, the shortcut climb to Shevaroy Temple, the fire dance and good food, the sight of thaatha in the verandha, on a chair, surrounded by his loving daughters and looking out on us, as we gamboled around, was a delightful experience. I remember washing used vessels chatting of all things and sundry with maami at the nice, large, ancient kitchen sink.

What makes these memories special? The presence of so many loved ones around us, the joy of sharing a number of playful hours in the presence of cousins, the sight of little ones enjoying the open spaces and games in verdant surroundings, the fresh, cool air in the mornings, the games we took time to play, the pranks we played on one another with scant respect for age, the tonnes of food that we ate, the mounds of vegetables that Hari always loved to cut, the grimy hours in ancient ktichens cooking food the old way, the long walks, the sense of abandonment of all worries and thoughts, seeing only smiles and hearing cackles of laughter, the sight of extended members of the family, the sons and daughters-in-law bonding in love and affection - these are experiences of a life time for anyone. The sense of belonging grows stronger at each of these encounters, not withstanding the idiosyncrasies of individuals. We only remember the fun and the love that we shared on these three or four days. It's a legacy we leave around for the younger people of the clan. 

This time will be especially special, because thaatha's assured us all,'Paarkalaam'. I'd love to see him again at the portico, with his daughters at his feet and his grandchildren and great grandchildren on the lawn at the  front.

Libya was at Dhamayanthi's doorstep, with Geeta caught there during the battle between the protestors and loyalists. 
From mid February, everyone was anxious about her safety. She could be reached intermittently and times when she could not be reached were nerve racking moments. Her assurances that she was safe fell on deaf ears. 
Her arrival on the 8th finally gave us all some peace. Her narration of events as they unfolded reads like Alistair Maclean's war adventures. The images of grenade pounded walls of her home, bullet holes in a neat shot through 15 of her friend's clothes in the wardrobe, sound of jet planes flying overhead, the journey to Tripoli, the care taken by the Indian embassy and her safe journey to India are vivid and heart stopping. 
I wonder if any of us has been through such a tense situation, when you don't know if you would ever see your loved one, give him/her a warm hug or smell the fragrances of your home town and the simple familiar walls of your home. 

I believe Sathy Chithi is celebrating her retirement with a few of her siblings around this week at Erode. She is treating them to lunch or dinner, I'm not sure. Gifts are being exchanged. I believe maami has fought her way to be with her sisters-in-law to treat Sathy Chithi in turn. 
Sathy Chithi is such a darling, with her child-like ways and the joy she takes in giving happiness to her sisters. I've seen her give complete and total medical care to them whenever the exigency arose. She sees to it that she is always there, by their side, when they are under medical attention, surgery or sickness. My heart has always warmed to this beautiful lady, with that charming smile! 
God bless my dear chithi. 
 

Empty Nest Syndrome

The Dhamayanthi clan sees its young people spreading their wings and flying far and away. Astro Sidhu, Roopa's son left for Dayton for his higher studies last week. 

Come to think of it, the exodus started a long time ago...with Kala Chithi and Chitappa migrating to the US in the 70s. So, Brindha and Karthik are literally 'sons of the US soil'. 

Then followed Kayathri and Karthikayani, who left India to pursue their higher studies. Now, they visit India once in a few years. Their children are also rooted in the US. 

 Vijay left India to work at Caterpillar and has come back to India for a few years.  

Then, Shivi went to the US and almost effectively has settled there. Then, Krithi sojourned at Melbourne; however, she returned home to be closer to Sathy Chithy and Chitappa. Shyam left for the Australian soil and has almost become a 'son of the soil', preferring to live there for atleast another fifteen years. 

Geeta has almost become a foreigner with her professional assignments in different countries in the past ten years. 

How has the clan hanlded these changes? Has it become a victim of the empty nest syndrome? 

One thing I'm glad about is the clan's ability to handle the  syndrome, by accepting these changes as part and parcel of life. We take it with composure; the nest is never empty, because the elders always have other younger ones to tangibly love and shower affection on. The space is always filled with those around us. Family get togethers are looked forward to. Respect for the decision of the young migrants has been accepted atoically, without bitterness and remorse. I feel that attitude abundantly blesses the ones who've left the nest and makes them come back, secure in the knowledge that the hearts of those in the clan are always loving and warm to them.