The scene is
a bustling house in Mint Street, Madras, where my Grandfather lived.. he was
working as Chief engineer, and the eldest in the family, so
it was common practice, or the norm of the times, to take under his wing, the
rest of the children in his family, who passed their matriculation, and family
means, not the nuclear family of today..cousins, nephews, widows,
widowers..newly married couples..and so on.
They learn to pitter patter in
their strides towards building a new life or spend the fag years cosy and snug
in the feeling that they are taken care of. So my mom and her siblings grew up
just like wild wines, with no separate care, but she says it was good fun. She
always bursts into peals of laughter when she narrates us their weekends with
Vasuettan, (Ettan is a suffix used to address big brothers) a distant cousin, not so well off, but who was one whom his mother
had sent here to eke out a living. Vasuettan did get a job, a not so good a job,
but nevertheless a job, which was quiet a distance from Mint Street, he packs
his food for the day and leaves at daybreak in his huge bicycle and comes weary
and exhausted at sunset. But weekends, he is all set and ready for adventures.
He loves to pile up all the four kids onto his bicycle and pedal off . My
grandmom was not very enthusiastic about these outings, but she had no say as
the kids were too fond of Vasuettan and his bicycle rides, and Vasuettan was
too dear a soul to refuse permission.
Once they all tumbled down and returned
bruised and battered, which did not deter them at all. Once, the bicycle got a
flat tyre in front of the house of a Malayali
who he had heard from my grand mom that they
were
related,… distantly related and he
immediately rang the bell and told the sophisticated hostess that these kids
are related to her
in some way and would
she please take care of them while he tend to his cycle. My grandmom was aghast
when she heard this. Once they were off to a distant place where they needed to
take a bus. He assisted
my grandmom in parceling
food and drink to ease hunger pangs. He
was more excited than the kids it seems.
They all piled in to a bus, and when the bus
left, my mom spotted her sister on the pavement aimlessly walking looking out
for the rest of the gang. The bus was stopped immediately and they all piled
out and took another bus together. Once he took them out for Navarathri
festival and nearly lost her younger brother, who was left behind staring
wonderstruck at the toys in
a toy stall. Announcements were made and they
all trooped towards the toy stall where my two yr old uncle
was given a drink by the stall owner and was
comfortably seated on his lap. Vasuettan
bundled him up and
they
all trooped home and he was snug in his belief that this
would remain a well guarded secret. He loved
buying them roadside sweet meats and once they were all down with diarrhea.
My grandma
had gone to her hometown, Mahe and was returning by train..and she had written
a card, those days card was the cheapest and effective means of commiunication,
to pick her up at the bustling railway station. My timid grandmom got down at
the station, and looked all over for Vasuettan, she had got Jackfruits,
coconuts, and a whole lot of luggage and luckily, somebody helped her unload
it from the train..Vasuettan was nowhere to be seen. Panic, but as luck would
have it, a carpenter who had worked
there asked her if she needed help…he helped her catch a taxi and she reached home to find Vasuettan
sipping coffee with the card in his pocket.
He is the
one my grandmom sends to the station, to pick up guests coming home. Once, she
had asked Vasuettan to go and pick them up, and the hours flew by, and no signs
of the guest and Vasuettan. And then she saw the rickshaw at the gate with an
annoyed couple getting down, Vasuettan had forgotten about it and had cycled away merrily to his work, but
as usual was all apologetic when he found the harrowing situation my poor
grandmom was placed, next day he took off and made it up, assisiting them and
regaling them with his tales. He was so innocent and full of love, and it all
stopped when my grandfather died a
sudden death at the age of forty two, and the family had to leave Madras.
