My Santa Claus!!!

The last time I saw him, he was waving us goodbye. We were on a train and him, at the platform of the Thakazhy railway station. I saw him one more time, but this time to bid him adieu forever. I had never imagined he would be the first of the four to go. On the outside he seemed healthy and we took that for granted. The mysteries life throws upon us! I didn't think I would feel that devastated either, maybe I was more attached to him than I ever knew. My Grandfather... 

I can vividly picture myself leaning against the gate of his Bangalore home, waiting for him to return from work. He walked home with his constant companion, his tenant upstairs, after alighting from the HAL bus. I had a companion as well, his dog, Caesar, a German Shepard. Caesar was taller than I was at that time. How old was I, about a year and a half. I have no idea how I remember these events but these images are crystal clear. My Grandmother dressed me like I were her barbie doll, whether I looked the part or not. The moment my eyes caught the sight of the slim bald man with a dimpled smile, in white full sleeved shirt and black trousers, making a left turn at the junction, my face lit up. Bet Caesar was as excited.

I remember my last trip to Thakazhy. P and I were on our first visit  to my Grandparents' after our wedding. While I was busy showing P around, my Grandparents were busy making an effort to make P feel comfortable. A place so alien to P, a place completely different from what he had ever seen or even imagined. People he hardly knew. I am sure, he felt comfortable with them. Credit to him as well, a specialist on social skills. For some reason he never took to the place. However, am sure he knows my Grandfather as much as I do, with the number of anecdotes I throw for good measure. 

An active person that my Grandfather was, he loved to socialise and was popular among his friends. We made frequent trips together to the commercial area of Coxtown to buy Caesar bones to chew on. We visited a temple somewhere there, do not know its name or the idol that graced it. The temple was on an elevation with wide steps running across its breath. My Grandfather insisted I once 'pooped' on his arm on our way to the temple. Well, I cannot vouch for it but I would love to believe I did not.

My brother and I were not particularly attached to Thakazhy but my Grandfather made sure he entertained us thoroughly. We were not particularly fond of the outdoors, with people throwing us stares for being 'cityish'. In all honesty we were only 'townish', coming from the BHEL Township, off Trichy. I remember wishing my mother would dress me a little more conservatively so those stares wouldn't happen. Today am sure it's the other way round. I cannot forget the trips to the temple, followed by a trip to my Great granduncle's. The temple premises was enormous and wore a serene atmosphere, a big pond on the way to the temple was a major attraction. The inner sanctum made no sense to me, considering how 'un-religious' I was. I still am but I was enthralled by the oil stained 'diyas' in full glow and the sound of bells. There was a small room by the side of the temple we used to visit. My Grandfather used to give them a coupon and in return they gave him a pot filled with 'prasadam'. Never missed making offerings at the temple for all our birthdays, his children, their husbands, grandchildren. He never missed wishing us via inland letters too.

If my memory serves right they moved from Bangalore to Thakazhy in 1978 or thereabouts. It was an arduous task to get there, more water bodies than roads. I remember our first trip by our black Fiat. We had driven all the way from Trichy to Cochin to Trivandrum to Thakazhy. It takes about an hour and a half from Cochin. Am sure those days it took more. It was quite an adventure I remember. We had to park our car at an acquaintance's house and walk to their home, alternating between coconut tree bridges and 'kucha' roads. We complained about a lot of things, electricity failing frequently, especially after dark, the eerie house, the bathroom that was built outside. We loved running around the house, going over to the other side of the property separated by a small water body flowing from the Pamba canal right in front of the house. My Great Grandfather owned three boats I was told and the water body inside the house explained that. I must mention the coconut tree bridge over the water body. We made innumerable trips on them, never fearing a fall into it. We had heard once or twice from my Grandfather that he had taken the plunge. We were supervised by my Grandfather through the window of his quiet room, on the side. He sat on an easy chair with his legs up and dreamt away, his face not forgetting to smile.

By the time my brother and I had grown up, my Grandfather had realised we were not going to be tricked to do the outdoors. He knew we detested the attention we got from people. We were not forced to do things we didn't want to. Am sure my Grandmother didn't take kindly to that but he knew better. We got talking about movie stars, sportsmen and politicians, a lot of reference to Dharmendra, Hema Malini and Jimmy Connors. I remember being so thrilled to talk to him about these 'Movers and Shakers' and filling him in with the missing details. Must not forget we talked about my crushes and misses as well, made me think our lives were not all that different, despite being two generations apart.

We most often took a bus from Trivandrum, alighting at Ambalapuzha around lunch time. We were famished from the four hour journey from Trivandrum, having left early in the morning. My Grandfather would wait patiently at Ambalapuzha next to his white Morris Minor, holding a king size umbrella over his head and gold rimmed green Rayban sunglasses covering his eyes. A cigerette that got stubbed when he sighted the bus. He never went out without those 'props'. He looked excited to see us, never demonstrative but his teeth covered dimpled smile was always on display. We used to dread the Morris Minor, moved so slowly and made unceremonious noises. Not many owned cars there and this one was called 'aama' car by the kids. They ran alongside, causing my brother and I a lot of embarrassment. My mother found it funny, much to our annoyance. He didn't care what the others thought of his car, he loved it like his own child. He spent a lot of money maintaining it on his own, causing my Grandmother a lot of irritation. It was fun to see them bickering over this one.

Throughout our growing up years we did the same things when we visited our Grandparents. One of the first things we did on entering the house was to meet the new calf, every year there was one. I loved perching over his shoulder and playing with his sparse hair, while he sat on his favourite chair. He played hide and seek with us. We chided him for hiding in the same place every time, the toilet. He preferred to call it 'London'. We didn't ever consider concessions for him and he didn't ask for any. The walk to the paddy fields was fascinating. My brother and I ran around, fell off the narrow path leading to the fields a couple of times but that never slowed us down. The trip always ended with a visit to an old couple's, I do not know how they were related to us. Then there were trips to the small grocery stores, the mill, which pounded rice and spices, a stray visit to Alleppey and Ambalapuzha. My brother liked to call the latter Ambalappey. Every year my Grandfather would add to his collection of photo frames on the ornate wooden wall, family, extended family, infants, all of us occupied some space there, none from his side of the family. A couple of them were made when we were around, so a trip to the studio was meshed in too. Why didn't we ever think of taking a picture with him?

Before we landed at Areepuram, as the home was called, the pantry was stocked up. Milk powder immediately comes to mind, specially for yours truly. How much I loved it, still do and eat it on the sly. So there goes, my Grandparents are to be blamed for my obesity ( brings a smile ), Kerala laddus too, loved them. There were homemade goodies as well, lots of mangoes, jackfruit, pineapples and papayas in addition to the local produce and some bought from Alleppey. He did his best to make us feel at home. Must admit we were not grateful always. I do remember arguing with him over silly reasons. There was a time when I stayed there on my own in 1983, gave him a lot of trouble, stubborn and spoilt that I was. I refused to have my breakfast once, he said he would have his only if I had mine. I didn't and he left home to do his errands. He came back home midway after having fainted somewhere. How I had wished, I hadn't been so mean to him that day.

It will be 13 years on January 9th, since his passing away but memories still remain fresh, I don’t miss an opportunity to sing his praises now. One does not have to show excesses, money or power to love or be loved. One need not be artificial about it either. That was how he won me over. Not many people credit him for moving lock, stock and barrel from Bangalore to Thakazhy. He did it selflessly, expecting nothing in return. He definitely holds the record for being my favourite Grandparent, wonder if he ever knew.

In memory of my Grandfather...1920-1998