The pallu of her saree grazing his face reminded me of the days of childhood hidden in the comforts of Amma's warm caresses and cuddles. The way Amma's saree provided me with a safe hiding spot. The semi transparent pallu being used as a partition between the world and myself. Along with all these memories came the warm feelings of security,fun and above all that, tender, comforting love. The warm kitchen smells that the saree always carried with it. Her soft hands pinching my cheeks, ruffling my hair and giving me those small pats of caring "punishment"
Amma's soothing words drowning out all the noises of the world and drifting me off to a deep and peaceful slumber. Her soft lullabies and her bright smile. Her long hair that she always put away in a bun while she was busy making our home a more comfortable one. In hind sight even that small act of hers was a sacrifice for us. She chose to bind her beautiful tresses and do the house work so that we may grow up with the best of memories and she didn't fail on that count.
The number of times she has stood up to Appa for me. The naughty acknowledging smile she gave me when she knew I was buttering her to get something done from her. The innumerable times she broke her safety fund from the rice "jaadi" when I asked her for money. The extra dosa that she made and said "I have made on more already, have this one more please, it'll be wasted" knowing fully well it wont be wasted. Or the way she always poured extra curry and then said "One more dosa mone, finish off that sambar kutta".
The way she cried with pride when my college professor came up and said "Krishnan is the best student I have had. He is going to do great in life." The way she hugged me whenever I left for hostel. The boxes of murukkus and achappams she packed after toiling at the stove the whole night and then chiding me for not taking enough. The obvious lie she constantly repeated about how thin I had become, even if I had gained weight.
The way she used the end of her saree to dry my head after a bath, right until I started going to college. The pride in her voice as she spoke of me to relatives and neighbours. Amma's quick response of "poda, I am well. You go get ready and come for dinner" when I asked her to rest on coming home late and telling her I would manage dinner myself. Amma's eyes that communicated only genuine concern about whether I had had dinner after I came home after a drinking bout. Never was there anger or remorse, just concern. Amma's teasing remarks about the kind of lazy husband I would make.
Ashwini's saree grazing against my face while we stood on the terrace of our home reminded me of Amma. The way Amma pured her love for me. I turned out good. I would have made her proud. As all these nostalgic thoughts filled my head, Ammini came out tot he terrace. She smiled that naughty smile, the smile that had been a part of my life for so many wonderful years and had ceased to exist.
Ammini - My Amma and my daughter, the women with the naughty smiles. I smiled to myself. Amma was here to stay, My Ammini amma was here to stay.
Amma's soothing words drowning out all the noises of the world and drifting me off to a deep and peaceful slumber. Her soft lullabies and her bright smile. Her long hair that she always put away in a bun while she was busy making our home a more comfortable one. In hind sight even that small act of hers was a sacrifice for us. She chose to bind her beautiful tresses and do the house work so that we may grow up with the best of memories and she didn't fail on that count.
The number of times she has stood up to Appa for me. The naughty acknowledging smile she gave me when she knew I was buttering her to get something done from her. The innumerable times she broke her safety fund from the rice "jaadi" when I asked her for money. The extra dosa that she made and said "I have made on more already, have this one more please, it'll be wasted" knowing fully well it wont be wasted. Or the way she always poured extra curry and then said "One more dosa mone, finish off that sambar kutta".
The way she cried with pride when my college professor came up and said "Krishnan is the best student I have had. He is going to do great in life." The way she hugged me whenever I left for hostel. The boxes of murukkus and achappams she packed after toiling at the stove the whole night and then chiding me for not taking enough. The obvious lie she constantly repeated about how thin I had become, even if I had gained weight.
The way she used the end of her saree to dry my head after a bath, right until I started going to college. The pride in her voice as she spoke of me to relatives and neighbours. Amma's quick response of "poda, I am well. You go get ready and come for dinner" when I asked her to rest on coming home late and telling her I would manage dinner myself. Amma's eyes that communicated only genuine concern about whether I had had dinner after I came home after a drinking bout. Never was there anger or remorse, just concern. Amma's teasing remarks about the kind of lazy husband I would make.
Ashwini's saree grazing against my face while we stood on the terrace of our home reminded me of Amma. The way Amma pured her love for me. I turned out good. I would have made her proud. As all these nostalgic thoughts filled my head, Ammini came out tot he terrace. She smiled that naughty smile, the smile that had been a part of my life for so many wonderful years and had ceased to exist.
Ammini - My Amma and my daughter, the women with the naughty smiles. I smiled to myself. Amma was here to stay, My Ammini amma was here to stay.
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