#5, Sankara Madam St - Chapter #1

Written by Dilip Muralidaran on October 29, 2008 – 2:08 am -

Memoirs of Desikachari Thaaththa and Kanakavalli Paatty

Continuing off the last post i start the story of my life with the first chapter.

As vaguely as i remember, my kollu paatty considered me as a re-incarnation of kollu thaaththa. Why? because i was born on the same thidhi as his thavasam comes, same natchathram and of course it seems apparently i had a line on my forehead like a thirunaamam that kollu thaththa would wear. Desikachari thaatha was my fathers, grandfather. His wife died and he re-married my kollu patty who did not have any kids with him. Possibly why kanakavalli paatty considered me to be more like her son than a grandson.

Desikachari thaththa was notoriously famous for his temper and arrogance and charisma, so was i, doubting the charisma part alone. I’ve never seen kollu thaththa but only kollu paatty. I’ve been told stories about kollu thaththa so much by family members i dont miss not seeing him, i have his picture and every event engraved in the form of stories in my mind for eternity. I was told how rich a family we were and the palace like house we owned in sabapathi street next to sembithamman kovil, before we sold it to marry out aunt’s. Thaaththa owned a bus service in ooty and our family people would arrogantly get on it and not buy a ticket and quarrel with the bus conductor. After 30 minutes of hassling they would reveal they were "owners" of the transport company to make the conductor pee his pants and salute adchify with a "saari saaar!" dialogue.

I was also told how thaatha knew every mesthiri and carpenter in town and addressed them derogatorily as "sudran" and called them as "dei thevdiya maa, inga va da, idha pannu da" kind of authority and they would tremble in fear at kollu thaaththa. I was also told after all the work done how kollu thaaththa would give the mesthiri or the carpenter twice the money he asked for or deserved, also buy him tiffin and tea/coffee from a nearby iyengar’s hotel. I was told how big a turban kollu thaaththa wore and how he was 7 foot tall and commanded respect from every person on the street and folks hushed "periya iyer’u varaaru" and wished him good morning/afternoon/evening when he walked by. He always walked, he never drove a vehicle and he always used the bus, railways and tram.

Kollu paatty considered me to be her world, probably. She could not call me ‘Dilip’ and she called me ‘dilli’ which sounded more like ‘delhi’ with a i instead of the e. She was very aachaaram and cooked for herself in her small kitchen and room dedicated to her which had a separate door too perpendicular to the main entrance door. She would ask me every morning which i distinctly remember "dilli, enna da samayal pannattum?" and i would blurt off random things from my cherished desires and i would have it in front of me in flat 60 minutes. Kollu patties thaval adai’s were an extacy. I swallow a lump down the throat as i think of her, she really made life so much worth living for and how a kid i was and never realized what i had in life. Of course, for evening tiffin again i would command "poori", "chappathi", "dosai" and every possible permutation and combination and i would have it. My brothers plea and my cousin (my widowed aunt’s son who lived with us) would sometimes try to intervene and ask for stuff but they never made the promised land to the best of my knowledge.

Finally, i distinctly remember this. All 3 of us, after every nights meal would go to kollu paatty and i was always first to be served in the line. Paatty would have a huge, yellow colour green leave’s designed "Dabur Chavanyaprash" bottle. She would take some ayurvedic white powder which tastes like menthol. This powder she purchased for herself and just for me. It was some sort of protien or immunity booster or whatever. My bro and cousin got just the teaspoonful of chavanyaprash while i got the nice tasting powder along with it too and vayathu yerichchala kottified for the other two, every day.

Kanakavalli paaty also had a wonderful bench cum bed which was cool to lay down on. After her demise this was used by the kids in the house as a place to sit and study. Kanakavalli paatty is no more, the house is no more. Dabur chavanyaprash brings them back to life for a brief few seconds every time i see one.

 

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Posted in #5 Sankara Madam St., Kanakavalli paatty, autobiography, daily life, emotions, incident, personal, short story, story |