Memories....Mylapore thatha..

It was my Grandfathers 100th birthday a few days back. He passed away when I was 7 years old. And over the last few weeks I have really been trying to figure out what I remember of him. It’s been tough and also surprising figuring out what I do remember.

Let’s see, I was fairly afraid of the man. My sister used to be thatha’s darling and since I used to mercilessly hound her she would run to him. Actually my patti would tell her to go and stand near thatha and his arm chair cos if I went near range I would be caught by the long arm of the law (in his case a walking stick).

Early morning, somehow I associate early morning with him. I used to wake up fairly early as a kid and so would he. Don’t really remember how long he used to sleep. But yeah clearly remember walking to mani kadai, the vegetable chappie along with him early morning. Also remember walking to the kesava perumal kovil a couple of times. He would of course walk real slow and I would be running all around (the walking stick would make an appearance here).

Remember having very interesting discussions on bowel movement, this was early morning too.

Glucose powder and a weird tasting biscuit. Patti would smuggle these to me.

Steamed apples, he couldn’t digest normal ones.

Roti for dinner, very strange I used to think. Why is he having this weird stuff?

The armchair of course! Solidly built like a tank, could never push it around. One handle used to be broken. So would swing wildly all over the place. It was badly fixed once and the outcropping nail would always mess my arm up.

Remember the day he came back from hospital. The whole family was home waiting for him.

Visiting him in the hospital once with Dad. Think he had had a procedure whereby his navel was taken out.

He used to dote on my sister. I remember that very clearly. Ran like hell once, when something I threw injured her below the eye. I was petrified.

When my perippa used to come visiting, it was double trouble. I would never walk through the living room. Would always sneak in through the back door.

Whole family gathering for his birthday in Ambasamudram. Missed that one, had exams I think. That family photo is knocked around still.

3 pictures, always 3 pictures. The big one in the hall, at his desk looking very young, very dashing I always thought. The small one over the door leading to the dining room, looking slightly older, very dignified. The one in the alcove in the bedroom with patti. Which for some strange reason she used to insist was a painting. She got portrait and painting mixed up was my theory. The turban that he wore was always there in full glory. Never seen him wearing it though.

Small picture with a poem. Above one of the other doors. Was it about him?

Walking stick. 2 of them. One was smaller. I could escape that easier.

And of course patti calling me and amma down from the backyard, early morning, he had passed away.

Din’t really know him that well I guess. Can't say I miss him. But a lot of stories heard from patti always made me think I knew him better than I did. And most of these memories could also be what patti told me.

Glad that I remembered them though.