Posted: September 9, 2011 in memoirs
This has been lying in my drafts for very long time and I just did not know how to conclude it. At looked like the post would never see light and had to publish. These are  “incoherent rants” of mine and may not be of any interest to you. And yeah, posted here since I dont trust that memory of mine anymore..

May has always been my favorite month of the year but for different reasons at different points of time. Currently, the only reason being the thinner traffic and of course the sporadic unpredictable showers which somehow mysteriously seem to happen exactly when I venture outdoors. And while I was in school it was due to the whole 2 months holidays (yes! they were  holidays and not ‘vacation’ back then) which I always squandered contently at my grandparents place in the most obscure teeny-weeny village.

It is a typical village with may be 8 lanes and where even my visit would be a breaking news!  The *kadai veethi, the sunday *sandhai, the *vibuthi smelling temple, the pond next to it with two elephant murals, the bushes, the pigs, the bus stand, the giggling gals and the ever-beetle-leaf-chewing old lady – each adding a stroke of colour to the village.

And the life there! So simple, non fussy and yet so interesting!

Heavy rains were always followed by a vist by the arthropods! And some even stayed late upto midnight just to sting us stealthily. Yep the Scorpion! This would trigger a fanatic search in midnight for the monster with brooms being the only handy weapon. And the medicine for the sting was just a dose of pepper crusher immaculately by granny and a piece of cloth tied just above the sting and a dose of ash from the temple smeared on spot.

Almost everybody in village used to gather, not in protest, not for business, but for the Friday night telecast of “Ozhiyum oliyum” on DoorDarshan. 4-5 songs would be aired with the last one from a recent movie and everybody would watch it without batting an eyelid.

And the doc there even made a door to door visit. oh man! how me and my cousins used to look up to him as though he had the panacea for every little infection. And it was long time before I could discover that he actually was a nurse rather who was called Doc and that it was common knowledge among people as well! Phew!

The water with its own strange sweet taste and colour.

And the loud bell in the temple was clanged meticulously by “odhuvar aiya”, clad in his spotlessly white veshti, sporting  a silvery white natural goatee for eternity, completely unaware of how a decade later all “dudes” would go all gaga about it. And while we all grew up, he had the same face with all the wrinkles etched just in place with no new one coming up. And he was the time keeper for the entire village. At the clang of his bell in morning, the entire women hood will march out of the doors to wash the portico with mix of water and cow dung and then proceed with their jelabi shaped scribblings, named kolam and some not-so-expert women would stick to perfect straight lines.  Again, it would be six in the evening only if odhuvar aiya  clanged the bell and the whole village would light up only at his clang with the exact murmur, “shiva shiva”. I’m sure a aerial view of this place would show the entire village going from darkness to light in unison.

It has almost been a decade now since I spent considerable amount of time there. Now the village has changed, “modernized” in its own way and though I feel the younger cousins would miss out many things, it  is all for betterment.

  1. srao says:

    This is sooooo well written Nachu. Very beautiful portrayal of your native town.

  2. srao says:

    And I have been meaning to comment on this since sooo long. reading through an aggregator has this big disv.

  3. Hi NachunI had the pleassure of reading this about our own village Kandavarayanpaaay which I left in my childhood in mid 1950s to go to Singapore. Now in living in Bradford, in United Kingdom. I am so proud to know that we have some youth like you who could write a nice article about our village. Thanks mate. Vairavan

  4. nachu says:

    Swati, Thanks :)@Vairavan Thanks but I don't think I have done justice to the village.. The post is just so incomplete without the "chettiyar houses", the arrai, pattalai

  5. very nostalgic post. and a very priceless testimony by vairavan. keep it up nachu 🙂

  6. […] under Narshima Rao in 1991, the kitchen of my ancestral home tucked away in the tiny village was not left far behind. We kissed the wood stove good-bye. Kitchen counters were installed and we […]

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