Memories of a warm village house

I am a city bred person. 

I was born in a city, studied in cities or even if I did study in a village I was always surrounded by the city bred people and always had the facilities and feel of being in a city. I worked in cities and the only way of life I have ever had is the city life. 

Fast paced and filled with anxiety and pressure - have I paid the mobile bills, the maid has not come today, I need to book tickets for next Sundays show, the traffic is going to be bad and so I need to leave 2 hours early to get to office to get blasted by my boss and so on... That's how I have always seen life.

The point being clarified, whenever I listen to some specific songs by  Mr.Illayaraja (Just saying Illayaraja feels so wrong) I am taken back to the villages of my parents. In these songs I see the beautiful paddy fields and the coconut groves. I see the platform built outside all the Chettinad houses, made, to allow traveller's to rest. 

I am transported to my younger days when I used to visit grandma's for Pongal, the harvest festival. The rented bicylce rides and the bathing sessions with cousins in the farm tanks. The days of nagging parents to take us back home since there was no TV to watch our favorite Popeye and Scooby doo shows.

I remember  cousins and me going up to the roof on the sly, using an old ladder and sitting on the roof watching the day go by – if lucky on the “mattu pongal” day, the rekla race would be on the route that passed in front of our house and it was a special treat.

At grandma’s place there was a water shortage. There used to be tank about 3 to 4 feet deep and same width and length too. Water was supplied in the morning for about 3 hours and this tank along with a few pots was filled with water for the day’s requirement.

I used to be a spoilt brat back then. I studied in hostel and whenever I came for the holidays I was spoilt by my parents simply because I was away always and felt that I deserved special treatment when I was there. With all this in mind I used to wait till the tank was filled and jump into it the minute it was full! And I remember my grand mom shouting “ada pattukedappan, kudikkira thanniya thinamum ipdi kedukkuraane”.  Translated as “spoilt brat! everyday he spoils the water kept for drinking”

Ha, such warm memories. Today grand-mom and grand -dad are no more and the house has been pulled down to make way for a new modern building in its place.

Somehow I feel with the building also gone is the attachment I had for the place. What had been a treasure trove of memories of happy times is not just a modern building with TV and and Air-conditioners etc. It does not have that tank any more. It does not have the enclosure built for chickens anymore. The mango and lemon trees are gone and gone is the small kitchen. And all these may be material things, but they all had stories to tell and now they’re no more there.