Shivam Diaries

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  • Ammalu is amazing

    Did you chat this morning with a Facebook friend called Nany?”
    “Not Nany; She is Any. Your knowledge of English names is not up to the mark”
    “She is a woman; that is important. Not the name. When she wrote, ‘be in touch”,
    Did you ask ‘when to touch, where to touch’?”
    “Was it a crime, Ammalu? When she asked to be in touch, I asked when and where? Was that wrong?. How did you know? She called you? How old is she? Hoe does she look?”
    “She looks good. A nice lady. She said while leaving, “you teach SP how to touch also. He didn’t ask me but I know he doesn’t know”
    ———————————————————-
    “Why is Pattabhi standing at the gate, Ammalu? What prevents him coming inside?”
    “He quarreled with his wife ”
    “Then, he should have waited outside their gate and not here”
    “It seems you have some theories of reconciliation. He wants them. Please go and help your friend”
    “Oddamma oddu. You remember long time ago, when they quarreled, Pattabhi took me along with him, made me to wait at the gate, went in to apply my theory of reconciliation and failed to come out. After waiting in the hot sun for an hour,
    I returned”
    “That theory won’t work now. They, both have become old. Suggest some new theories, if you have”
    ————————————————————
    My face shines like a mirror, says Ammini”
    “Naturally. You used a new blade for shaving after twenty years!
    And why that bandage on your finger? Got cut by the new blade?”
    “No, Ammalu, the finger got jammed in the door- gap”
    “How many times haven’t I told you not to push the tooth paste tube into that gap, to extract the last drop? Are you short of money ? What are you doing with all the money so saved? Are you maintaining a second house?”
    “What does it means, Ammalu?”
    “Another house and another wife”
    “Don’t say such harsh words. I will push my finger into that gap again”
    “So, it was not the Colgate paste, but your finger that you pushed! May I know why, Sir? Did my mother ask you this morning, the question about the sharing, I asked
    you ? I heard her yelling at you”
    “No, it was the tooth paste only. Your mom wanted a new tooth paste tube.
    I bought one but thought why give the whole tube to the old lady with hardly half a dozen teeth. So, tried to transfer half the quantity into a bottle and in that effort got my finger injured”
    “Why the help of a door joint ? By just pressing, you could have transferred some quantity, if your miserly mind doesn’t allow the transfer of the full tube?”
    “That was to ensure the transfer of exactly half the quantity so that later I can reclaim it. Moreover, when someone mentions tooth paste, I think of the door- gap.
    When someone mentions your name—”
    “You remember Ammini, Paru, ChAru, PAttu —”
    “No. I remember your mother and 50% tooth paste, she owes me!”
    —————————————————
    “Mother -in- law Mahan, everything is fine at home. We are leading a happy, married life. I do all the work and your daughter watches all TV serials, seated comfortably on the sofa.”
    “So, the sofa is there! I was about to give a police complaint”
    “Mom, that old piece, as old as you are or even older, was willingly gifted to us with your own hands. Forgetfulness is a curse in the old age”
    “Yes, but I have not forgotten many things you said, to grab my daughter, including that
    that were three sofas in your hall”
    “Did I say so, madam? I don’t remember now. Forgetfulness is a curse even for young men like me”
    “That is fine. I will come along with you and stay permanently there. I can’t sit or sleep on the floor. My cow Kavery too will accompany me . Take care of her”
    ‘And milk her and distribute milk?”
    “Yes, take her out for grazing too”
    “I will just order three new sofas for you, MiL”
    “No. I want only my old sofa”
    “It will be here in another hour, madam”
    “There is a Hartal today. How will you get it ?”
    “By head-load. Carrying a sofa on my head is much easier than pulling an animal, as adamant as your daughter, through the street”
    ————————————————-
     
    “

  • chellammal Athai

     
    Chellammal athai was my wife’s aunt. I met her in our wedding and instantly became her admirer, attracted by her personal charm, graceful behavior and unreserved affection showered on me. She was 60 or even 70 but when you see such people, their age never comes to your mind. Still, I couldn’t but wonder how charming she would have been in her teens. But alas, she had become a widow, before the age of menstruation!
    Athai, along with my mother -in -law managed the household of her brother, PMS, and his big family of twelve children including my wife and her two siblings, almost equal no of elders and also cattle and servants. Combined families were the norm of those days and invariably there was an athai or patti or Periammai( father’s or mother ‘s sister or grandmother ) in almost every family, whose entire life was spent supporting the family, as was in our case, where we had our mother’s elder sister.
    chellammal athai ‘s father Chami pattar of Monkombu was my wife’s grandfather and also my mother’s maternal uncle. He was one of the three popular VadhyAr brothers in Moncombu.
    A simple hearted man, pious and helpful, Chami pattar was angry, outspoken and at times used to shout at everyone in the family including his eldest daughter, who took over the role of care taker after his wife passed away. Even while bedridden in his old age, he used to spurt like a handful of red chillies thrown into the tongues of leaping flames from a firewood oven, for any minor delay or deviation for his routines. Chellammal athai bore the brunt of her father ‘s anger, always smiling, despite her workload in the household.
    My mother had mentioned about her maternal uncle’s anger earlier but it was from my wife, I had a complete picture of his eccentric behavior.
    “Why was he howling at everyone including his own daughter,? I asked my wife.
    This was what she said :
    “Thatha’s howling and bowling harsh words were actually aimed at God!”
    That single- sentence reply sent a shock wave through my nerves initially and then, pained my heart and filled it with sympathy for him.
    What an unlucky father was he, to grow old and die, seeing his charming, favorite daughter, moving in the attire of a widow right before his eyes, for over fifty or sixty years! He would have dreamt, during her childhood that she would bloom into motherhood, then slowly ripe as a grandmother, heading an empire of her own.
    The young girl managed to translate her sufferings to service, smiling all the time, irrespective of the hot steam bubbling and burning from inside. But her father, suppressed by untainted affection for his unfortunate daughter found no ways, other than cursing the creator for the disaster in her life.
    In a Malayalam movie, Nirmalyam, the oracle, unable to bear the stress of shame and sufferings, spits at the face of the idol he worshiped in a temple, with contempt, before he takes away his own life. The movie was a hit, but I disliked the end where the oracle spat at the face of the Idol with his blood. But at whom else would he show his anger? In one of my stories too, the leading character, lying helpless on his death bed, raises his head and hands to punch the Imaginary God, he thought, appeared before him. Compared to these insults to the creator Chami pattar’s verbal attacks on his family was ignorable.
    But, one thing is sure. Women out -stand men, In disaster management and adapting the environmental changes. They are born with the inbuilt insulation materials to control the steam of their woes preventing it from burning them and also converting it into cool jets to comfort others.
    A friend- request received yesterday, from the youngest niece of Chellammal Athai, kindled my memory on the veterans of my wife’s parental home and made me to share some thoughts on their life, with you.

  • Mahamuni from the Mountain speaks

    Hear this, from an experienced:
    If you want to attract a girl, never lose your individuality, pride as a male , don’t bend your head, don’t massage your palms, in submission in advance.
    A woman wants a man as a partner. Remain as a man!
    Stand erect, look at her eyes and speak.
    Don’t look on the ground below.
    She will be yours!
    ———————————
    If someone steps backward, when you move forward again again, don’t be after that person and waist your valuable time and whatever prestige is left- especially if that person is a ‘she’ and you a ‘he’. He,he,he🎃
    —————————————–
    I opened my eyes suddenly just out of my short nap after lunch and saw my wife gazing at me. “What happened?” I asked her.
    “With so much mischief in your inner store room, how innocently you sleep like a child!” She wondered.
    I heard first only the last part clearly and was immensely happy that she said I was innocent like a child. Closed my eyes and instantly recalled the first part of her comment too – ‘ with so much mischief in your inner store room!’
    Opened my eyes widely to thrash her. She had gone!
    Moral : when your wife says something, while you are awake or in sleep, hear the whole, not a part of it.
    ——————————————-
    “Spending time on cycling, swimming and story writing! No plan to go up, SP Sir?”
    “I’m happy here”
    “Let me put in simpler words. What good karmas do you perform to go to swargam?”
    “Oh, plenty. Don’t worry about that”
    “Poojas, homams, namasamkeerthanams —. ?”
    “I wash daily three kitchen vessels of Ammalu or press and fold two shirts of mine or fold my bed in the morning and open the doors and windows”
    “Are you mad? Such petty services to your wife will open the doors of Swargam for you?”
    “Certainly. When the woman, who served you throughout her life, raised your children, waited for you in empty stomach till you return home late, realizes that you care for her when her limbs fail to cooperate will slowly raise her head and thank the Heavens. Those looks from her dim eyes, the sighs of satisfaction from her heart will bank the doors of Swargam for me and allow me a free pass through.
    It is not the vessels you clean or the shirts you press that matter for her, but the simple feeling that you care her when she needs it”
    “I have never read such a maargam, way for the Swargam. From where did you learn this lesson, Guruji?”
    “From the Mountains. That is why I’m called the Mahamuni from the Mountains”
    ———————————————–
    “Did your son clear the IAS competitive exam?”
    “No, he didn’t”
    “Abba! What a relief !”
    “My son’s failure is a relief for you, how?”
    “My son too failed”
    ——————
    “Is there light in your house?”
    “No”
    “Thank you. I will tell my wife. She is making a big fuss”
    On other hand, if he replies, ‘yes, there is’ and asks, ‘ why you don’t have in your house?”
    Finished. Your wife will make a ‘podiarisi’ broken rice of you.
    ——————-
    This is not a joke. You too would have experienced.
    Neighbor’s tooth pain, reduces our tooth pain! Don’t ask me how!
     
    Mahamuni from the Mountains

  • “Excuse me Sir. Could you tell me whose mobile number this is?”
    “My grand father’s.! Why do you bother me, man? Do I have a phone directory with me?”
    “I just wanted to know whether this is your wife’s phone number?”
    “If so what?”
    “I wanted to know whether she lost her mobile and if so, has she lodged a complaint?”
    “Show me the number. OMG, this is my phone number. I lost my mobile a couple of days before”
    “How Sir?’
    “While scaling the Mount Everest!”
    “Don’t know why you angry. Mobile phones are not allowed in mountain expeditions. They would have allowed you as a special case, to call for help. One last question, Sir, anyway. Have you lodged a police complaint?”
    “No and will never. I have better work to do”
    “Thank you, Sir. That was all what I wanted to know”
    “Why, you got my phone?’
    “Yes sir!”
    “You scoundrel! From where did you get it?”
    “From the Mount Everest”

  • Ammalu is amazing

    “Madam, mother in law, I’m half your age and therefore have no right to advice you”
    “True. You can suggest, request, appeal”
    “Thank you. I’m told that your prepared a will for your assets, yesterday. May I know where I stand?”
    “All my immovable properties, house, agriculture lands etc will be in my daughter’s name. Movable properties in your name”
    “Cash in the bank is movable property, right?”
    “No way. Cow in the shed, is”
    “Cow! What do I do with her?”
    “Milk, graze, sell the milk and products to the Rama Vilas Hotel”
    “My mother, but not real mother ! What an injustice for your most loved only son?”
    “But not real son!”
    “Cash is a movable property. From hand to hand it moves. Why didn’t you include that in my list?”
    “You are taking of the old days, SP. Now, like your age, cash stands still and doesn’t move an inch, after a certain stage”
    —————————————————-
    “Mother – in – law. I’m very angry. I have a question for you and say ‘yes’ or ‘no’.
    The family -life of your daughter depends on your answer.
    The one and only question:
    Is it true, you changed the birth star of your daughter, with the help of your astrologer, with the sole purpose of marrying her to me?”
    “Yes, I did . But, that was nothing compared to what your astrologer did for us?”
    “What did he do? Did he change my birth planet?”
    “No. He changed the person! He promised to bring the prince of Palakkad, with golden turban with rows of glistening pearls hanging from it, seated on the back of a white steed, holding a long sword in a diamond studded case. Instead, on the wedding eve, it was you who stood before us with a Chaplain cap and borrowed mustache”
    “You could have reject me?”
    “I didn’t as Ammalu liked your borrowed mustache and her dad liked your Chaplin cap”
    “But you were the deciding authority, neither your submissive hubby nor your oppressive daughter”
    “I too liked you. When I asked for your qualification, you sang, nodding your head happily and clapping hands, “abcdefg, hijklmnop—”
    —————————————-
    ” just knock the door and enter. You are welcome to my room, anytime Ammalu”
    “You are welcome to enter my room, as per the time table for visitors, displayed on my door, SP”
    “Ammalu, I’m an outsider for you?”
    “Naturally. If I have to enter your room only after alerting you or seeking your permission, I’m an outsider for you. So, you too are an outsider for me. We are not in America SP garu.”
    “That ‘garu’ is to reconfirm that we are not in America, Ammalu?”
    “Any amount of reconfirmation won’t be a waste with men who tried to be smarter than their wives”
    “I’m not smarter than you, my fifth- failed female partner?”
    “That needs no reconfirmation, na Pathidevudua”
    ———————————-
    “SP Sir. Why don’t you behave like any other husband?
    ‘ I want water’ – just three words. I would get the message and you get the water.
    Instead, You used four sentences, with similes, metaphors, adjectives, adverbs and all other tricks. ! All high- sounding, low value or no value stuff.
    You recite a sloka from Kalidasa, a theory from Archimedes, a slogan from a political party – trouble for you and torture for me?”
    “Ammalu, women have many weapons, powerful. We, husbands have only words as our weapon, armor, tool and telescope”
    “Telescope?”
    “Yes, telescope. We use long sentences to watch your facial expressions and body movements to ascertain how our words are received and once we are convinced you are totally confused, we introduce the subject, conquer your mind”
    “That is an irritating, injuring, irresponsible statement of an insensitive male , who knows no difference between a communist and a cartoonist and a Kathakali artist.
    Do you know the difference between a telescope, periscope, horoscope and a laparoscope ? Do you know the connection between your ear and throat and nose? Why did you cough when the audiologist removed wax from your ear? Have you thought about it? That is advaitham. No two. Only one”.
    “Water!”
    “Good. So my telescope worked. What I wanted you to say in three words, you said in one word and I got the message. Will you be precise, now on, SP Sir?”
    “I will. One more weapon in your armory !”
    ———————————-
    SP, you are a gentle man”
    “I’m aware if it; anyway thank you. I feel excited when a good friend like you mentions that in the presence of my mother”
    “Your mother, where is she ?”
    “By your side in blue jeans and White T shirt”
    “Crazy fellow, you have gone blind? She is my sweet wife”
    “For me, all women, except my own wife, are my mothers”
    “So, you are not an ordinary gentleman. You are a perfect gentleman!”
    “I’m, thank you”
     

  • Ammalu is amazing

    “Ammalu, that idiot in the corner house asked me a foolish question:
    ‘Wonder how your children are so smart, intelligent, well behaved, talks less but wisely?’
    Obviously he doesn’t know my virtues and values, personal and educational status”
    “He knows”
    ——————————————————
    Ammalu, your mom is like my mom and our house is like her house. She is welcome here anytime but I don’t like her overhearing my phone talks”
    “That is a misunderstanding. She stands behind you only to ensure that you don’t call her number and complain about me, forgetting that she is in our house, right behind you. You do that often. She wants to collect the complaint in person and help you”
    “Does she think that I’m a fool to complain about you in your presence?”
    “No, she doesn’t. She only expects you fail to notice my presence too”
    “Ammalu, you are joking. She knows I smell your presence from a hundred yards away”
    ———————————————————-
    Mother -in -law Mahan, once the marriage is over, the bride’s mother should move to the sidelines and allow the couple to enjoy their privacy”
    “Let her move to side, back or front ! But, why tell me?”
    “As, you are my son -in-law ”
    “Oh, then you should have said, ‘should have moved’ who taught you grammar?”
    “I’m moving to the side line, MIL. I can’t argue with you”
    “Why should you move? Are you the mother -in -law?”
    —————————————————————-
     
     
     

  • Mayilkkan veshties —an old story reposted as the original one is missing.

    He was like that, right from his childhood! Collecting things, show -casing those and enjoying from a distance. Pencils, erasers, books, toys whatever came to his hand, he used to neatly arrange in a row and look from a distance, smile satisfactorily, but never used those. When appa took us to Thripunithura, where my mother delivered her first girl baby, my first sister, the Raja of Kochi was distributing cash gift for his birthday, by his own hand. A great occasion, said the uncle who took me and my friend to the palace to receive the gift.
    We stood in a queue and remember well that the Raja placed a coin in our palms, which we were told was a great honour.
    I spent that money for buying some balloons on the way home, despite protests from the uncle who took me to the king. Ah, within no time the balloons burst in the air. I cried for a while not only for the balloons which went ‘fut’ within a matter of minutes but as my friend Kuppu’s coin was safe in his hand . His laughter was more heart- bursting than the sound the balloons made in the air while losing their breath and falling down, shrunk, shivering, lifeless.
    ”Enketa potchu-where have those gone?” Asked the uncle who
    tried to prevent earlier, my buying the balloons. I blinked and looked down on the battered balloon pieces. The pathetic sight broke my heart.
    “Were these stupidly shrunk colour pieces my proud procession which proudly moved in the air keeping head high, just a few minutes before? I asked and wept again.
    The victorious laughter and the visible coin in Kuppu’s hand were forgotten soon, though the memory of those balloons which went ‘fut’ in a matter of few seconds and fell down pathetically loosing shape, pride and very life, lay hidden in an unknown corner of my mind and popped up whenever the castles which I had built up in my life’s path assiduously, fell pathetically, irrecoverably.
    Kuppuswamy, that was his name, lived the first half of his life exclusively for his sisters; he neglected the second half. The net result was that he got nothing out of life. We were together up to the SSLC and he could not continue his studies beyond that. His father was a vaadyar, purohit whose meager income was not sufficient to provide even a square meals for his family. Kuppu was a brilliant student and my appa, who was doing well in business, offered to bear the expense for the higher education of my close friend and class mate. ‘Poverty should not come in the way of such a brilliant boy’s future,’ Appa said and asked vaadyar to leave his son with us.
    ” You will feed him, educate him,” was not prepared to accept appa’s offer and questioned him, “who will feed the remaining 5 mouths ?
    I have no money to pay the barber for the past 4 months; are you not seeing the wild growth on my head and face ?”
    Kuppu joined the type writing and short hand class.
    Many time, while going to college, I had picked up some food from home and delivered at Kuppu’s house which was on the way in the agraharam. Their self prestige resisted accepting them but their dire want overtook and made the prestige to surrender. Hunger is a merciless tornado which gulps everything on its way.
    “Oru pathu roopai thada-give me ten Rupees,” he demanded once and that was the only time when Kuppu had asked for a help from me. I didn’t ask him ‘what for’ . Gave him the amount.’ Then he revealed,” Appa is unwell, want to take him to the hospital ”
    I went along with him to admit his father in the hospital and stayed over night. Abject poverty had already decimated his body and sucked almost every blood cell . Death had practically no work except to stop the flow of air, which it did with no efforts. Vaadhyar did not return home. The villagers came forward to cremate his body. Appa also contributed for the expenses.on last rites. I looked at kuppu’s eyes when his father’s mortal remains were turning into ash. They were not moist. Only a stark silence, prevailed in them. I hugged him and wept for several minutes. I wanted him to cry and propel the pangs of separation and worry about the future, but he didn’t move an inch. That was deadly. While returning home, he mentioned that the vastrham on the dead body was gifted by my father on the previous night. It seems my father took a pair of new veshtIes to be gifted to the Kathakali artist but on a second thought, don’t know why, he thought went to Kuppu’s house and gifted the clothes. When I told appa that the cloth on the dead body was his gift, he shut his eyes for a few minutes . Silence, sometime speak .
    After a week , Kuppu came home and asked for some money. That was the first time he was asking appa for help.
    ”Enna, kuppu, ammaikku ennachu -what happened to your mom ? ” Appa inquired. I don’t know how he guessed that something was wrong with Kuppu’s mom. it was perhaps his premonition out of his experience with the leg-movements of the twins, death and disaster.
    ”Mama, Ammai poyatchu-mom passed away” . Without telling a word of consolation or expressing grief, Appa went inside, picked up some cash from the box and asked the cart -man to be ready . Amma came out, saw Kuappu standing in the veranda and appa getting ready to go out . Without asking what was the matter, she went in and came out with a new pudavai, nine- yard sari .The new pudavi was for covering the dead body of the old woman during her last journey. The way they acted silently and swiftly amazed me. Aware of the financial condition of Kuppu’s family, were my parents expecting the dance of death over there any time ?
    Appa could manage to get my friend a ‘karyasthan’s job- something like a manager cum clerk, in a tobacco shop in the Palghat Angadi, bazaar. The ‘moothan’ the shop owner was a kind man. Having known from appa the financial condition of my friend, he gave a month’s salary in advance for kuppu . Appa helped the family with grain and vegetables.
    In six, seven months Kuppu learned typewriting and shorthand, went to Bombay and worked for an export company, living in a small room , eating a single meal a day and starving on the days of religious fasting days, which were too many. Most of the amount he earned was sent home for education of his three sisters and later their wedding .
    When I met him in Bombay after a gap of twenty years, he had his own flat, thanks to the additional income he had, which his part time ‘pourohityam’ the job of purohit fetched for him.
    ” At least now you think about your life, ” I pleaded, ” You need a woman to share your life and a progeny to extend your lineage ”
    ”Too late,” he replied. ”It is never late to live” I asserted, ” it might be too late for some to die but for none it is too late to live “.
    He extended his brass betel box offering a chew for me. “Nice box, looks like your appa’s. I like the cover in the shape of a betel leaf” . While picking up the leaves and other ingredients from it I noticed a small coin inside it . I jumped from my seat, ‘ Kuppu, this coin was the gift from the Kochi Raja, right ? ” I asked. He nodded in agreement, with a smile on his face. No balloons came in between us this time.Then he held my hand, opened a wooden cupboard in which over a dozen Mayilkan veshties, doube-dothies with ornamented borders, were neatly stacked.
    “Pakshi ”- that was how he used to address me as I was a lover of birds and used to wander in forests during my school days in search of them, ” When I call you from my death bed, you know what you should do, spread all these fragrant, mill-fresh dothies on my body before you light the fire .My parents did not have their own clothes on their body during their final trip. Let me have that luxury” I looked at his eyes. He meant what he said, I was sure. It was not a casual request but a well thought-out plan.
    ”You are a stupid,” I screamed, ” throw away this soiled cloth you are wearing now and don the new one from the cupboard, one everyday. What is the guarantee that you and me will have a tomorrow ?’
    “You have not faced poverty, ” he remarked looking at the ceiling ” I will never pardon the Fate for depriving my parents the privilege of having their own clothes for their last journey”
    “Now the same Fate has provided you plenty of them .Why don’t you use them ?”
    ” It is not time yet”
    “Poda madaya – get lost, you fool ” I shouted and rushed from there. That was the last time I saw him . Afterwards, we lost contacts.
    Two months ago, when I raised my head after a dip in the waters of the Kalpathy river, I noticed on the adjacent rock a brass chellapetti, betel casket and from the betel-shaped lid I could guess that it belonged to my friend. “From where did you get this ?” I asked the man who was beating his clothes on the rock.”It looks like my friend’s ”
    ”Your friend had a sacred thread like what the brahmins of this village wear?,” He asked me and I confirmed.
    “Sorry, sir. Your friend is no more”
    He stopped beating the cloth and came close to me. ” A few days ago, a man slipped from the moving train near Palghat Junction and despite wide publicity given through the local dailies and mike announcement through the streets of Kalpathy and Palakkad, there were no claimants for the body.The Poonal gave an indication of his caste and it was decided by the authorities to cremate . Along with two other Railway staff, I was given the responsibility. I had a new red colour turban which I used to support the head load. I covered the body with that new cloth and sprinkled some water from the nearby stream. This brass vethilappetty, was lying a few yards away from the body which I collected while returning .You can kept it, if it belongs to your friend”
    I opened the box .The coin gifted by the Kochi Mahraja was in tact inside .
    I took out my wallet which I had hidden in a rock-hole and searched for some cash. There was a five hundred Rupee note, which I handed over to the porter. ”Buy a new turban cloth for you and a sari for your wife. It is our custom to give a small gift to that relative who performed the cremation”. He accepted it with a smile.
    I sat on the rock, looking at the flowing waters. How unpredictable life is ? Kuppu did not buy balloons as I did, but his life just went ‘fut’ like the balloons. When my balloons lost their life, at least I was their to morn the loss. Now my friend is no more but I am unable to cry. Or why should we cry at all ?. The air from the balloons just escaped and got mixed with the vast expanse outside and is it not the case with my friend too when his life escaped from his body and amalgamated with the supreme reality ?
    I don’t know how long I sat there like that. The sky got filled with stars and cool wind was blowing from the western hills, when I got up .
    I returned home and opened my wardrobe to change the dress.
    A dozen Mayilkan veshties, doube-dothies with ornamented borders, was neatly stacked inside it .
    I cried inconsolably..
     
    sperinkulam
    Baltimore
    October 6, 2011

  • Ammalu is amazing

    “Every husband, what did I say, Ammalu ?”
    “Every husband”
    “Yes, at one time or other develops a disappointment that had he waited a little longer or had his star been a little brighter, he would have married a woman, better in looks than his wife”
    “you too had that disappointment?”
    “I know that your ears have become ornamental. That was why I got it reconfirmed from you that you heard the two words, ‘every husband’ correctly”
    “Like you, I too would like to have a reconfirmation from you. Did you have that disappointment?”
    “Yes, I had. Did you too have similar disappointment?”
    “No. I was confident that I could mould any raw clay to the doll of my liking”
    “Did you succeed? I’m not an ordinary clay, Ammalu. I’m a granite- clay. What clay?”
    “Granite- clay”
    “Correct. Did you succeed in moulding me , to your liking. Say, ‘yes’ or ‘no’”
    “No”
    “So, you lost?
    “No, I won”
    “How?”
    “I molded myself to make you walk behind me holding the end of my sari, always. What did I say SP Sir?”
    “Sorry, Ammalu. My ears have turned ornamental”
    “No problem. Leave my sari -end, please. I have work in the kitchen”

  • Punishment for praising and others stories

    “Morning mother- like. Was passing this way. Just dropped in to say ‘hello’. How are you mother- in- law?”
    “Good”
    “It is always a pleasure to meet a lady with a pleasant face like you. It is always a pleasure to talk to a lady with sweet voice like you”
    “Thank you”
    “Can I have a cup of coffee please? It is always a pleasure to drink even a cup of water from your sweet hands”
    “I will give water first. Then, you have to do a small help. Our cowherd Govindan is absent today. Milk the cow, leave a liter here and supply the rest to my three customers. By the time, you are back, I will prepare coffee and wait for you”
    “You want me to milk your cow and door deliver the liquid to your customers? Has any mother -in- law, ever asked her daughter’s husband to milk the cow and door deliver ?”
    “SP, we know each other for how many years? Fifty long years. Don’t play any tricks with me. I have already made coffee for you. Drink quietly, go home and don’t ask my daughter for coffee again. What will be the punishment if you do that?”
    “Milk the cow and door -deliver the milk”
    “No, taking it out for grazing”
    ——————————
    “Your daughter is becoming too romantic, MIL. and I don’t like it”
    “What happened? I was told that you love romanticism”
    “When I talked to a friend, she pulled my shirt back”
    “You were talking to a male or female friend?”
    ‘A female”
    “Then, her act was to prevent you from talking nonsense. There was no romance in it”
    “Once she pinched my bum too”
    “That would have been to prevent you uttering absolutely nonsensical words. No romance in that too”
    “And once she pulled my ears and knocked my head ”
    “That was to prevent a head on collision with your female friend and consequent explosion. No romance in that too”
    “Then what is romance, the oldest lady in our family?”
    “Romance at your age is simply enjoying the company of each other, husband and wife, no outsider, no pinching the bum or knocking the head, you at your work, she at her work. You don’t, anyway, doesn’t like romance and there is no meaning in telling what romance is, to you”
    ———————————

  • Ammalu is amazing

    “Madam Mother in law, I’m sorry to learn that our ChAru and Chuppu broke their relationship on a flimsy ground”
    “On a flimsy ground? You know the real reason?’
    “What was that?”
    “See, he believes that men wear waist-belt purely for holding pants firm to waist.
    She disputes and argues, ‘If that is the only purpose why not use a coir or jute rope?
    Leather belt is a lavish style wear,’”
    “Is it a valid point for the family- break?”
    “There was a second one. Chuppu believes and mentions often that marriages are arranged in Heaven. ChAru disputes and argues, ‘no, my marriage was arranged by my mom”.
    “MiL, they haven’t told you the truth. There might be a very valid reason. I know how cheats husbands are”
    “Ammalu also knows”
    ——————————————
    MML, the whole world praises me except you and your daughter”
    “Then, that is not the whole world. There is hole in your statement”
    “MML, the hole is in your daughter’s head. My modesty prevents me to say that the hole is in her mother’s head too”
    “Those holes are well covered, SP. Your hole is open. Dangerous.
    ————————————————–
    “Ammalu, the grand old 9 yards in the 7 th street is your mom. That doesn’t mean that for any thing and everything you should call for her help. what am I here for?”
    “Ok, the replacement gas cylinder is yet to come, though I had booked a week ago. On your way, please remind Ramaswamy, the delivery boy or the manager Krishnaswamy”
    “Ammalu, your mom, being a religious person, is the ideal one to deal with Swamies. All Swamies will run away at my sight. Please inform your mom”
    “Ok, at least call the plumber Aziz in the eight street. He is not responding my calls”
    “Ammalu, the eighth street is next to the seventh. Walking distance for your mom. A short walk will tune her worn-out leg muscles too”
    “Ok, Ammini’s grinder is ready for collection in the 12 th street”
    “I’m going, Ammalu. Your friend is my friend”
    “Sorry, she is no more my friend and therefore she is not your friend too.
    I don’t want you to move from here for another three days”.
    ——————————————-
    “I’m not here to complaint about your daughter, MML”
    “MML? Mother -like mother in law, SP?”
    “No. Maha Mother in Law. I’m not here to complaint about your daughter”
    “You told that and I heard you. Have you, anything new to say?’
    “Yes. You are growing old”
    “You are growing young SSL?”
    “An extra ‘S’ for ‘super’?”
    “For ‘stupid’. You have anything more to say?”
    “Yes. Take back your daughter”
    “OK, give back whatever I gave you”
    “500 Rs. Old notes ?”
    “No. 3 laddus, 5 bajjiies, one bowlful pakoda, two plantains, two big cupful coffee, hot, hot, I gave you on the eve of your marriage”
    “Mom, i have an urgent work in the next street. Shall meet you tomorrow.
    Take care”
    “You will come tomorrow with my daughter, my son?”
    “No, mom. She is busy with her music students”
    ————————————————
    “Generally, what is your opinion about me, Ammalu?”
    “Very good”
    “Will you tell this to your mom?”
    “No”
    “Why?”
    “Her opinion, already about you, is very very good”
    “That additional ‘very’ is not very good. It looks a bit dangerous”
    “Now you know why I didn’t tell her”
    “Very, very thoughtful decision on your part, Ammalu”
    “That additional ‘very’ is OK, SP?”
    “Nothing is okey when it comes to you and your mom, my old queen”
    “I’m aware of that. That is why I’m coolerant”
    “What is ‘coolerant’, my darling?”‘
    “A new word assembled by me to say, ‘I’m very, very tolerant’”
    “Appa Iyer School product is amazing!”
    “Not all. Ammalu is amazing”
    —————————–