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.