An Ode About Onam...

It is Thiruvonam today; an auspicious day for any Malayali, no matter what his/her religion is. A time to rejoice despite any distress you may have. A time to bond with family whichever corner of the world you may be in, otherwise. And here I am, sitting in the department computer lab, seething in emotional pain, to put it in the least dramatic way as possible!

I have not even taken bath; forget having had a sadya with payasam. On the day when a vegan feast with diverse delicacies should have graced my palate for lunch, I gobbled up a KFC Zinger burger with vengeance. Either a sadya, or nothing close to it at all, I thought. This year, I angrily put aside my own rule of ten day vegetarianism during the Atham-Thiruvonam period.

I still remember my first Onam away from home. It was in 2006, soon after I joined Google. Having joined just in May, August came too soon and with all the training that was happening, it seemed rational not to take leaves. I did not give much thought to it as it seemed natural to miss a festival or two. I was officially 'out of home' and 'on my own,' right?

WRONG! The day dawned and I started off with a marathon on the telephone all smiles and ended up weeping like a lost child. I wished most of my realtives in the process and vouched to each of them that it was terrible to be doing so over telephone. Having heard stories of an Onasadya that had happened in the previous year at Google office, I expected the lunch of the day to wipe off my copious tears. To my utter dismay, the caterers had changed and the new guys did not know about the festival! I ate rice and porial and tried to satiate myself in vain. I still cannot manage to put together the pieces of a broken me of that day. I hadn't realised until then that I was so emotionally dependent on my family and promised myself that another Onam shall not pass by this way, without them being beside me.

I kept that promise and dutifully went home in the two subsequent years. First, while I was still with Google, and the second, after I joined UoH. I hate bunking classes normally; but Onam was a good enough reason to do so for a week. But this year, since a plan was on to celebrate Achan's shashtipoorthi in the last week of September, I had to make a compromise. Missing two weeks of classes in the same month could cause some trouble while registering for the end semester examinations. Thus, at the altar of educational insurgency, I sacrificed my need to be home.

I was thinking a while ago that it is just another day in Hyderabad. It is a regular working day, with not much buzz about Onam apart from the mad rush at Kairali restaurant situated at about 2km distance. Still, the day is so different for me. In the heart of heart, I keep reminded that everyone is celebrating back home and making merry. It is scary to think whether they are missing me or not. What if they are not? What if I am not that indispensable?

Worse still, unlike in 2006, I cannot even make a promise to myself that I would be home next year for Onam. I just don't know what I'd be doing next year, around this time!

It is funny how Onam is no more just a festival for me. With an assorted collection of memories that include tidbits of sleepless shoots during my Kairali TV days and impromptu trips with cousins and elders to touristy locations associated with it, Onam has become a habitual indulgence for me. One that makes me sulk, if I don't abide to it. Sad that I did not indulge this time; but only to reinvent my ties with my roots..

Happy Onam to all of you!

A Letter to my Ammoomma..

Ammoomme,

I have grown up hearing liberal amounts of commentry on how I resemble you of younger days. I would often stare with wonder at the black and white picture frame that adorns the top row of the photo wall at Harichandanam to draw a connection. The picture is of a young and fiery woman in her graduate gown who is refusing to let out the smile that is revolting to splurge out of her lips. The picture is of you.

I have always known that I have a great lineage to boast about, that I do not have an ordinary woman for a grand mother. When my friends told stories of weak grandparents who could barely walk, I had a power woman at home who would write pages and pages of content without a coffee break. The long list of your degrees that would put any modern academician to shame, the sheer number of countries you have visited as a scholar, the confidence with which you spoke English long after you crossed seventy - everything about you has been special.

On the other hand, you did those wonderful things that made me feel that I have a normal, doting grandmother. You told and retold the story of Cinderella every night yielding to my boring demand for the same story before I went to sleep. You made yummy Unniyappams so that I came home to a tasty treat after a tiring day at school. You inculcated love for plants in me and answered innumerable doubts of mine whether a particular plant can be grown with a thai or kambu. You also drew a lot of record pictures for me because you were good at drawing. When I come to think of it, what was it that you werent' good at? Cooking, painting, writing, teaching, loving, communicating - you were good at everything!

The other day, I received a book that Amma sent through a friend of mine. It is a biography of Mannathu Padmanabhan, your grandfather and the founder of Nair Service Society. The book is written by you.

The first time I held it in my hand, it was not the gleaming portrait of Vallyappooppan on the cover page that I saw. The effort you have been relentlessly putting into it for years, despite failing health - that's what I saw. I glanced through the pages, read some lines here and there, and I got a sense of the focus you might have had throughout the period that you wrote it without using anything but pen and paper. No computer or any other form of technology whatsoever to help.

I do not know if I would be ever able to tell you what I feel about you; especially after seeing the book that has been your dream for a long time, which now is a reality. You are such a perfect living example of how to make every dream possible. Achan wrote to me about your achievement and mentioned that you have defeated the concept of Alzheimer's Disease by completing such a monumental work at the age of 84. All I would like to tell you is that I am charmed. I can feel the depth and volume of the power I am inheriting through you. I am just so proud.

As I retrospect, I am reminded of the struggles you have gone through to get where you are - your childlike complaints about dear ones (never about me though, right?), the easiness with which you cry, the constant insecurity of being alone. I know that even in the pinnacle of achievements, you weren't completely happy for reasons known to you and me. But then, what is life without some rough patches? God does not give everything to everyone; but please know that you are a truly blessed soul.

I am at a stage of life where making the right moves is very important. I have to take decisions almost everyday which will affect the way my life will mould itself tomorrow. I want you to know that, at this point, my single most inspiration and motivation is you.

More than everything, I want you to know that I love you. I may not talk to you that often or see you that often. But I do not struggle any more to see the connection between you and me. I close my eyes and look within, and I see only you.

Congratulations on making yet another dream come true. Congratulations on being who you are.

Love,

Kunju.

Family Matters...

The last two days were fun because the whole family was together at one place - home! The randomness of Karakkonam, Pandalam, Changanacherry, Kottayam and Ernakulam took a leave for those two warm days.

Since Achan is leaving today for Dubai, he has left his work at Pandalam and is enjoying two days - exactly two days - of 'vacation' at home.

Akkachi, of course, has started going to college since the academic year has started. But she returns around 5pm. Ettan, since his transfer to Changanacherry from Cochin, reports back home much much earlier than before. Kids reach home the earliest, around 3pm. In fact, I am the last one to reach home everyday (around 6pm) after wrapping up my internship woes. Working during vacation, I tell you, is one of the few bad things of taking up a 'hands-on-work-experience-requiring course' like mine.

Oh yes, Amma! Without much persuasion, she decided to take an entire week off from her work. I had just suggested a Wednesday - Sunday, but she decided to make it a Sunday - Sunday. So she is full time at home like a homemaker. How nice! I think it is pretty amazing considering her obsession with work.

But when I think about it, it is not so nice. I mean, she is at home now, of course, by choice - just because Achan is leaving today and me on Saturday. She is no fish out of water or something. Yet I know that she is complete only when she is working. She enjoys her work that much.

There are times when, as a school girl, I used to miss my mother being a homemaker - or housewife - in less polished terms. Most of my friends had their 'housewife moms' to their disposal - to dress them up, to cook great food and wrap that up to make yummy tiffins. I don't know if I would have wanted her to dress me up, but i would definitely have liked more exotic items for lunch than the breakfast iddli/dosa. I frequently used to get irritated when she told in the evening, after returning from a full day of work, that she was going to check up on the Ladies Hostel that she was the warden of. Or even if she is at home, her burial inside a heap of examination papers waiting to be corrected would cause a frown on my face. Ditto with her temple visits on Saturday or Sunday mornings that were extremely long and make us have breakfast before she returned. Achan would tease her by saying Pujari had gone out handing the charges over to Amma, hence the delay.

But the major development about my growing up has been that I understand Amma much better today. I know that her dedication to work has helped thousands of students (without exaggeration, at the rate of hundred per year). Had she wasted her time packing tiffins for me, I would have had momentary satisfaction, yes. But what about the compromises she would have had to make with her work? May be, a delayed submission of corrected examination papers which would also mean a delayed publishing of results for about hundred students? May be a naughty girl who would con the watchman and escape the hostel gate? And may be, far less reverence and respect as a teacher and a human being than she has now earned. Right? I am so glad that she did not make that compromise then.

Amma and Achan probably hold the record of having attended the maximum weddings of their students. This continues even after they have retired. Mind you, it is just one indication of the love and affection she shares with her students. I cannot recall the number of students to whom she has been a mentor, local guardian and source of solace and love. All this and much more and yet attending to all the important things in the lives of Akkachi, me and Achan. That includes the month long leave she took for my SSLC exam.

It is funny how I have 'grown up' only in this aspect - understanding my mother. Nothing else has changed. My arrogance, anger, everything is in tact. I have petty fights even with Kunjunni (exactly 6.5 years old) because my emotional growth has stunned. In short, Akkachi has to deal with three intolerant kids at home, when I have a vacation.

Yesterday, when I was getting ready for work, Achan told me that we would be going for a family pic in the evening. That is one thing we do religiously from time to time. I would be normally very happy with the idea. But this time, somehow, I was not expecting it. I frowned because I was unprepared (read no waxing and threading done plus I am totally out of shape and do not want to be frozen into a frame at this point). Of course, Achan did not succumb and I silently agreed.

The photoshoot was illustrious. Different groups, different poses. And yes, the first colour coordinated one for the family! :) Yellow and brown was the theme. God knows how it will come out!

Then, a dinner together. A good film would have been a perfect finale, but there is none left to watch. :)

All these good times shall now remain as memories forever. And the next best thing to do is start expecting the next 'together' episode which might be during Achan's Shashtipoorthi celebrations in September.

And as they say, expectation is better than enjoyment. 'M loving it!

Home is where thou hearth is!

Statutory Warning : This post is very long. As much close to my heart as well.

Most of us would agree that 'home' is not just a word or a concept. It is a world in itself. My version is that it rests in the security of our hearts with gallons of emotions compressed inside. I have stayed away from my home for the past six years. It has been a life changing time for me.

When I first moved out to join my college hostel in 2003, I had not foreseen this change. In fact, I never thought about it deeply enough. It was a natural transition - something that everyone of my age went through. Although I was lull that I had to relocate, I had no regret as it was my decision to study in another city when my city of letters (lakes and latex too) did have a lot of options. It took me some time to realise though that I am not in the best place considering the monster of a warden I had. To add to the complications, she was my teacher too.

Okay, let me tell you that I am a good ‘people’s person.’ I have this gift of getting people to like me if I want them to. Teachers definitely fall into that category of ‘people whom I want to like me.’ My boy classmates from school always used to pull my leg mentioning my ability to lather teachers up. But this one was a tough cookie. I realised that people don’t cook up stories about ladies hostel wardens when they say they are frustrated souls. She created lots of problems for me including not letting me go home on weekends when all others went. She even accused that a majority of blank calls that the hostel received actually targeted me (I now see it as a compliment though). There are very few people, in fact, only one person that I have held grudge for a long time. She is that person. In a nutshell, my first experience out of home was very discouraging.

My second year in college passed off in transit as I was constantly travelling Kottayam-Kochi-Thiruvananthapuram for various activities that included studying and compeering. Though I was officially stationed at home during this year, I never actually lived there. This was also the year when I realised that travelling alone helps you mature much faster than anything else. You learn to juggle between different modes of public transport. You become an expert in crisis management as you learn to deal with late trains and buses that do not wait. You realise the worth of every penny when auto drivers ask for exorbitant amounts to drop you from South railway station to your college that is a kilometre away. You deal with so many different kinds of people. Your alertness levels go high as you protect yourself from hands and god-knows-what-all that are waiting to grope, press, feel etc. Your respect for the range of womanhood increases as you watch your co-travellers multi-task by fighting, talking and cutting vegetables – all inside the comfort/crowd of a ladies bogie in a train. It did not take me long to become a fan of the Indian Railways for the amazing social service they did of which I definitely was a beneficiary.

In my third year, I joined the YWCA in Kochi which gave me my first taste of freedom and independence. There were friends who wanted to run away from the college hostel although they had less lethal experiences in comparison with me. So we were a perfect group at a perfect place. The curphew time of 6pm did not seem restrictive in a city like Kochi in those days, especially since we were all single girls with no immoral intentions. :D

YWCA days gave us the opportunity to walk the streets without having to worry about getting back somewhere when we did not want to; to bunk classes once in a while and catch the first day first show of much awaited Hindi movies in Sridar theatre; to roam around Convent Junction checking out the latest accessories and cosmetics in the endless ladies stores; to go window shopping through scores of shops in MG Road; to eat chaat as much as we wanted in Venkatesha chaat shop near the hostel; to gaze, stare and watch everything on road while walking to and fro from college. It was fun.

My next phase of life was destined to be in a farther place compared to Kochi. Hyderabad was never ever an option for me for anything. But then, man proposes and God.. yes you know what. My parents found me a ‘home’ at a family friend’s place. My colleague from Google was with me as well. Chechi was really sweet to both of us. But due to unavoidable circumstances, we had to move out after three months. I was literally homeless and in tears. I remember that it is one of those few times in my life, when I was on phone with Achan and Amma and started crying without realising it. 'Home,' at that point, was a distant dream at the other end of the phone. But then, as always, God helped me find the right place to move into. And how right it was!

Jeevan Jyothi Institute in Begumpet run by nuns has hostel accommodation, a retreat centre, etc. That became my 'home' for the next two years. I found new friends who fell into a wide range of age. There was a warden there as well, but with far less consequences. She was a harmless little thing who used to talk a lot. We never bothered about what she said and used to live life the way we wanted. J This is when I got my first taste of curphew-free living. In a city like Hyderabad, where there are far more things to do in comparison to Kochi, we utilised this freedom optimally. Late nights were mostly for movies and almost never for parties; unless there was one organised by Google, in which case transport was taken care of.

Jeevan Jyothi witnessed me blooming into a working woman. My apprehensions of being alone in any place at any point of time, my fears of strangers staring at me, my inhibitions of going shopping alone, my unfamiliarity with solitary and silent thinking – everything vanished. More importantly, by the end of two years, I felt ‘at home’ almost always at this place. This means that I missed my home where my family lived far less than before. I could feel the goodness of going home when a day of work ended at the pleasant workplace of mine. I realized the depth of this feeling only when I had to uproot myself to move into my new abode in Hyderabad.

Resignation from Google which was another kind of home considering I spent up to 14 hours a day there; having to move to virtually a corner of the city from the heart of the city; distance from my dear ones – it was a tough time when I first moved into my campus hostel in Gachibowli. In the first month, I used to often wonder – God, where am I? What am I doing here?

But then, everything changed very soon. Great friends came my way, the complacence and calmness of the campus kicked in and lo! As I am writing this, I am feeling ‘at home’ yet again. Gachibowli is far away from the city. But there is MMTS (metro rail) that gives me connectivity to all the places in the city that are important to me. APSRTC buses are common too. Basically, considering I am a public transport-addicted person, there is enough reason for me to be contented on the connectivity issue. Also, I appreciate weekends much more now. That’s the only time I get out as the university is very much self sufficient with eateries, ATM and movie screenings.

One thing I noticed is that the process of feeling at home was much faster here. Kochi, Begumpet – all these places commanded more time. I am assuming that I have grown as a person to someone who is used to changes, now that I have seen quite some. I wonder how I will deal with my relocation from here. It is going to be a big one and painful too. There are still 15 months roughly left.

Having told you about all the different places where I felt at home and otherwise, a climax about my real home would be ideal, I guess. There are still moments when I long to get back to a period when I leave ‘home’ every morning with iddli/dosa packed in my tiffin box amidst the din of Achan and Amma getting ready to leave for their work. May be, that will never happen. In fact, I doubt if I will ever live there for a longer period than a couple of months. I see work and marriage ahead which necessarily might not be based out of Kottayam.

But does this mean that my home is no more mine? Definitely not. That’s the reason why I mentioned in the beginning that home rests in our hearts. My greatest strength, I realise as I end this post, is my ability to cuddle into that nest of security even when I am miles away from it.