The absent minded Vasuettan, memoirs of my eighty year old mother

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.