When you know your dreams are going to remain dreams forever, it's quite normal for the mind to cherish the memories that gave the dreams in the first place...
My first travel outside the state was a trip to Kerala. It was not any fancy part of Kerala like Kovalam or Allepey...it's a small village near Palakkad, true to the claim 'God's own country'. My friend and I visited her maternal grandmother in that small lush green village. We took an auto from the train station and the driver seem to be well-educated for his profession. He conversed well in English over the phone, what seemed like a networking call with someone. My friend explained that graduates take some sort of job before they land in an actual job and men typically choose to be auto drivers.
The auto finally stopped in front of a pay phone and my friend called her cousin for a pick-up. Then came this 12-13 yr old boy with a flash light and said, 'let's go chechi' in a shy tone. My friend introduced him as her cousin and gave me a long list of instructions on how careful I should be walking through the paddy fields. We walked through the partially harvested fields (rest were left due to lack of daily labor) in what seemed like a 30 lumen flash light for almost a mile. We reached the house in 20 minutes and I was trying to measure the square footage of the house by casting a casual look like a professional.
It was a sturdy two-story building from old times- the entire house was made out of wood and had tile roof. For some reason, I felt the house had a life on it's own. It has seen three generations, births and deaths of every family member and lot of untold stories. My friend said, 'It has not reached the status of being called 'Taravaadu' as the 100th birthday is yet to come for the house'.
Everyone in the house received us very well...even uncles older than me stood up to greet with a 'Vanakkam'. We were taken to the dinner table by Ammamma after some refreshments and quick updates on everyone in the family. Ammamma seemed to be pillar of the family- though she was not able to move around much without help due to arthritis, her strong presence was felt everywhere in the house. Though her physique was deteriorating, one can't help notice the strength she gained over the years raising the family of three generations. She suggested few places for us to visit but was still hesitant to let two young girls travel to Guruvayoor alone. We did it...the pride in her face was priceless. I remember my friend looking at her grandmother amusingly and saying, 'We are girls of 21st century grandma. We can travel on our own'.
I heard people do not usually rave about Kerala food but for some reason I did. It is quite unusual for my stomach to be able to digest every item on the plate but surprisingly Kerala food was received with a warm welcome and I went to bed without a queasy stomach . Kerala cuisine seems to be the second best after my mom's food.
The next day, we went around to meet some of the extended families and an actual 'taravaadu'. we had to walk across paddy fields to get to other houses and I realized the paddy crop looked quite big as opposed to the paddy I'm used to in my grandmother's farm. Communication was not a problem at all...everyone seemed to understand what I spoke in Tamil and responded back in Malayalam. I collected few interesting plants from every house we visited for the small garden at home.
On our way home, my friend mentioned that her cousin from taravaadu married an American woman met through an online dating website. The couple seem to be happy with a 5 year old kid but nobody liked the idea of online dating in that small village. When we returned to her grandmother's house, Ammamma was waiting near the entrance for us. She was excited to see us returning home safely and enquired how everyone has been doing at taravaadu. She slowly raised the topic, 'I don't like the idea of online dating. How do anyone possibly know a person just by chatting over a computer? One can hardly know a person even after spending years with him/her (she had an unhappy marriage). I was dumbstruck to find 90+ year woman knowing so much about internet living in that small village. My friend pressed my hand and whispered, 'she holds S.S.L.C from those days'. The dinner was the most memorable part of my trip..... she started narrating 'Mahabharatha' in English as we were eating. We had no idea how much we ate until she said...'see if you have more room in your stomach'. As you can guess, we did not have any.
Days went by with varieties of food, few folks visiting us. One fine evening, we decided to visit an 'Ambalam' (Temple) close by. Most temples in Kerala are very strict about the clothes devotees wear. Men are expected to wear dhothi and women are expected to wear skirt and shirt, saree or half-saree. The temples are lit by thousands of oil lamps around the 'praharam', strictly no electric lamps. It was a great fun lighting those lamps in the twilight with cool breeze hugging us....it was a perfect moment of 'Ehaantham'. At that moment, I truly enjoyed being a girl in a traditional skirt and jasmine flowers while some guys were admiring us from a distance. That instant was as beautiful as Ravi Varma's paintings....
Finally, the month of non-vegetarian ban had passed. My friend's 'ammaai' (Aunt) started making amazing fish curries everyday...FOR ALL THREE MEALS!!! I must have done few good deeds in my last birth...... 'Enna dhavam seidhanai...' Ammamma sat with me and chose the best pan fried fishes while explaining how important phosphorus is to bones and showed how to eat fine fish bones without the bones getting stuck in throat. There was unexplained love and care in her every move.
Finally, the day came. Ammamma did not like this part of the trip...bidding goodbye. She touched my forehead and ran her fingers on my cheeks....'I know Acchu always chooses good friends. Visit again next summer'....I said 'ok' and we left.
My friend invited me the following summer to visit her village...I was preparing for GRE exam and said I will visit after the exam. She called two days later to say, 'Ammamma wants to meet you...looks like my presence is not enough for her'. I said, 'Tell her that I promise to visit after exam'. There was another call the next day....'Ammamma passed away. She seemed perfectly fine yesterday and it just happened all of the sudden this morning'.
I visited the village in early December....the house still looked the same. Ammai received us and she was giving her usual updates. My friend was pointing out a wet spot on the wall and ammai told 'kuttan' must have disturbed one of the foundation stones when he was trying to make a deep pit near the wall outside. A weak foundation stone leads to cracks on the walls and the monsoon rain made it's way through the wall. 'Hmm...Ammamma would have warned him if she were alive. Can I make sambhar and fish fry?'
I went all around and found Ammamma's walking stick balanced on a chair. I ran my fingers on it....still trying to figure out why she liked me so much in just one visit and why she wanted to meet me before she had her final sleep. The house now seemed handicapped.
