Shivam Diaries

Ammalu gets another daughter

Clad in a colourful sari, the air hostess, standing erect at the entrance of the flight, like a lamp post wrapped with colour papers, greeted me with a warm “Namaskar” and folded hands. I was pleased by her gesture, unusual for a girl of her age and blessed her, ‘Deergha sumaghali bhava’

‘What does it mean, panditji?’ she enquired.

‘May your mangal sootre last long; may your husband live long ‘

‘How? I am unmarried,’ she replied.

‘You will get married soon,’ I replied confidently.

‘Will I? Thank you so much Panditji. I am sure you are an astrologer’

One or two passengers behind me hurriedly extended their hands towards me to read their palms and predict their future. Gracefully nodding my head, I asked them to wait by a hand signal and made Ammalu comfortable in the window seat.

When I turned my neck after loding the hand luggage, I could see my cousin, Parasu, sitting behind our row.

‘You here, Parasu? ‘ I expressed my astonishment and inquired, ‘When did you jump the prison wall ?’

There was a mild commotion in the nearby seats and the occupants turned their attention towards my cousin, raising their eye brows in appreciation of his presumptive stature of a politician.

Parasu enjoyed their glow in the eyes and looked down at his pants feeling sorry for not donning the Pancha the Telugu politicians usually wear.

‘On parole,’ he mentioned casually, as it was like coming out of his Kavassery village and walking down to the nearest bus stop.

When I was about to occupy my central seat near Ammalu, The Lamp-post girl, approached addressing me ‘Appa!’

Astounded, Ammalu tried to get up from her seat; the seat belt prevented. I signaled to resume her seat and told the girl, ‘Appa’ is ‘father’ in Tamil. To the best of my knowledge I am not your papa ‘

‘am prepared to trust your words although the element of doubt in your statement worries me’

‘What is there to worry, child. One can’t be definite on such issues’

‘You look so pious. Your tuft, ‘kadukkan’ on your ears, ash mark and pottu on your forehead?’

‘What has my tuft to do with the play of my mind? That of course, doesn’t mean that I am an indecent man. It is just to warn you that in the case of OTHER PEOPLE, you shouldn’t go by the appearance alone.’

‘Anyway, you blessed me a long married life’

‘Any fool who blesses you, is not your ‘Appa’’

‘I know that . But I will call you ‘Appa’ only. That is how father-in-law too is addressed in Tamil, I am told.’

Ammalu, now shocked, made another attempt to raise.

‘But I am not your father-in-law either,’  I was now firmer in my reply to the girl.

.’And there is no element of doubt in this statement, as I know my sons. What say Ammalu?,’ I turned towards her but she was yet to come to a conclusion whether I am that girl’s father or father in law.

‘You will shortly be one soon. Because your son loves me’

That was a lambast from the Lamp- post girl.

This time Ammalu removed her seat-belt and pounced at the girl, “ennadi olararai? what non -sense are you talking?’

‘Calm down Ammalu” I pacified her, “one day or other this is bound to happen. which one is the only question to be asked ‘

“Which one !! how many sons do you have?”

The lovely girl’s long eyebrows curved up. ‘For the time being, three. If God permits and the lady by my side grants me another boon, by the time I go back-—‘

‘Am I your duplicating machine ?’  Ammalu asked with a naughty smile and chided me,  ‘ a greedy wolf”

‘Not really?’ I was in high spirit. ‘Remember the bumper crop our parents had’

The LP girl was waiting for an opportunity for our romantic dialogue to end.

‘How was it that my lover told me that he is the only son and will inherit a large estate, two breweries and three 5-star hotels, when his father pops off? ‘ She asked.

‘My possessions are contained in this bag and in the hand suitcase in the cabin above’

I showed her my bags and added, ‘the other movable asset is the mother of my children sitting here, though by virtue of her size whether you will able to move her away is a matter of concern’

Parasu who was overhearing our conversation, intervened. The boy you are talking about, I mean your lover, is a tall guy, right?’ He asked her.

‘Yes sir,’ she replied, ‘ he is the most handsome boy, I ever met. He is fair and has curly hairs like yours’

‘Then, he is my son. And I am the possessor of all the properties you mentioned’

‘Could be,’  I endorsed, ‘Child, now address him as “Appa”

‘am sorry for the trouble I gave you, uncle,’ The innocent one apologized.

‘Kiran told me that his father was leaving for US by this flight and it is easy to identify him by his dothy and hence, I troubled you, Sir. Now I will speak to that gentleman’

‘But that ‘gentleman’ in not wearing doggy,’  Ammalu chipped in.

‘That doesn’t matter now. He is in possession of a large estate, two breweries and three 5-star hotels anyway.’

I was worried that crooked Parasu might take advantage of that innocent girl’s plight and I wanted to save her.

‘Child, think twice before you talk to him. He has already transferred all those properties in his daughter’s name . That was the reason why my son loved and subsequently married her’  

‘’Who is telling lie, who is telling truth, I’m totally confused.’

‘Both of them are liars,’ Ammalu  commented and added, ‘Your Kiran too is a lier’

‘Madam, Kiran too?’

‘Yes, undoubtedly. Do you know where does he come from?”

‘Hyderabad, he said’

‘Which part?’

‘He didn’t tell me that’

‘And you didn’t ask. You know his parents?’

‘No, they are very wealthy, he said’

‘You don’t have any other information about him?’

‘No, but I can collect’

‘Ok. Do that. Then, you approach this gentleman whose card I’m giving you.

He is closely related to us. Treat him as your close relative and consult him before you move an inch in your love. I too will be in contact with him and learn the progress.

Where do your parents live?”

She pointed to the roof of the plane, with swollen eyes

‘Sorry,’ said Ammalu, ‘ we are your parents now on.

‘My fear is Kiran’s intentions are not good. You are good looking; have a good job. A boy who tries to win the heart of girl declaring his wealthy background, without giving any other particulars, not even his house address, can’t be very trustworthy. . Thai is my assessment. Anyway we will find a solution’

Ammalu hugged the girl heartily and both were silent for sometime.

The air hostess said, ‘excuse me, mom” and went to receive another passenger.

‘So, Ammalu, our family is growing further,’ I taunted her, ‘madam to mom is a big jump’

‘It is, I’m proud of my new status’  Her happiness was blossoming on her eyes.

Baltimore,

Nove. 15, 2011

Sent from my iPad

Sambharam and Sarpagandhi

‘As a security measure, Pantalu garu,’ remarked the smiling man on the counter when we went for check- in, ‘we want to ensure that you packed your suitcases, yourself ‘
‘No, sir. I didn’t.’
My reply was curt and with my standard head shake to emphasize my point.
He stared at me as if I told him that I had lost my passport. The Professor too was equally stunned by my answer and came forward to offer an explanation.
‘Are you the passenger, Sir?’ the official asked him.
‘No, I am not. But it was me who helped him in packing, considering his age . And the packing was done in his presence’
‘The packing was not done in my presence and it was not done by the learned professor, my relative. It was done by a dozen people who dumped their things into these suitcases, with my permission, of course’
The prof. again wanted to say something but the official cut him short, ‘let the passenger continue. He seems to be an innocent truth-speaking villager’
‘Excuse me sir, I’m not innocent and I’m not a villager, but as you said I’m truth -speaking. I have been always and everyone in this city knows this truth. Are you in Hyderabad from 1959?’
‘I was not born then’
‘There lies the root of the problem. Now, coming back to the suit cases, the first two boxes were packed by my wife herself and the other two doesn’t contain a single item of mine. They are all gift items, packed by my friends in my suitcase for delivery to their kin’
‘Could you at least tell me what they contain?’
‘How on earth can I , young man? I didn’t pack them nor the packing was done in my presence’

The official consulted someone sitting behind him with a dull face and dry look and reluctantly said , ‘ very sorry Pantulu garu, we cannot accept those two baggage’

‘There is a sloka in Sanskrit–‘ I started to recite an old one.
‘Sorry sir, I do not know Sanskrit’
‘I too do not know that language’, I admitted

‘Ayya, meekku dandalu,’ making a mock salutation, the professor intervened, ‘ tell me what I am to do with the rejected baggage? Carry on my head around your colony, locate the owners and distribute the materials?’. Had I been younger to him, he would have slapped me on my face.

But the professor had no reason to get angry. The owners were waiting at a distance to ensure the safe passage of their goods!. The Bolaram airport of those days, allowed visitors to come up to a point close to the baggage check-in counters.

Ammalu was sad and angry.

‘What all I could have carried for my children ! He wasted two suitcase-space unnecessarily,’ she complained about me, to the prof.

The officer at the immigration counter was stiff and formal. He looked at me and Ammalu alternately and twinkling over his thick- framed spectacle, asked her with an insipid smile,’ so, madam, you are going to America, to celebrate the wedding of your son or daughter and this Pantulu will be conducting the wedding ?’

‘No. Pantalu na pathi devudandi -he is my husband’

I looked deep into her eyes for her calling me ‘pantalu’ for the first time.
‘Just for pun’, she smiled and added, ‘didn’t I ask you to wear your pants and not your usual Panchagatcham?’

‘Ammalu Madam!’ Addressing Ammalu with a tinge of sarcasm, I said, ‘ there should be compatibility between husband and wife, not only in attitude, but in appearance and apparel too’

‘ If I look much younger, it is because, I’m younger to you and my habits and thoughts are clean. The change over to salwar kameeze is to help my easy movement in elevators and as per the instruction of my daughter in law. Unreasonable attachment to anything, all the more to orthodoxy, is unhelpful’
The officer was not interested in our arguments. ‘OK, OK, I am sorry for my wrong assessment’ .

Glancing at my face and photograph in the passport alternately, he asked with a suspicious look, ‘ are you sure sir, this is your passport?’
‘Of course, it is mine’
‘Then the face is not yours’. He enjoyed his joke and promoted by facial expression, others too to laugh.
‘Yes, you are right. I didn’t like my earlier face; so I got it transformed’
‘Through surgery?’
‘No, through forgery’
‘How, how?’
Sankaracharya. through a rare Yoga practice, could exchange his body. I used the same Yoga to change my face’

The people around started crowding me and someone commented, ‘See his new face is glowing’
‘An young lady from behind, pushed aside others and enquired, Sankaracharya garu, ekkada unnarendi- where is Sankaracharya?’
Prof. Nandur, just returned after distributing dolls and others to the concerned owners, was fuming with anger. He answered the lady, pointing his finger towards me , ‘Mee mungattanae unnaru- he is standing before you ‘

The officer didn’t like my becoming popular in his office. He was sure that I was not the original Sankaracharya, but there was some mystery in my appearance and argument, he would have thought. So, he cut me short.

‘Ok, in the passport photo, you are with a turban. What didn’t you wear that turban on your new head?’
‘My scalp is not bald now’
His senior from the next table came and admonished my interviewer.
‘Anjayya, you are wasting time. Has he got a head?’
‘yes, Sir?’
‘Stamp the papers and attend the next passenger’

He stamped my paper, stood up as a mark of respect or to prompt me to move quickly.

Next, security check.

‘Shoes and coat? Please place in that basket’
.’Lethandi’
‘Your waist-pouch, belt or wallet?’
‘Lethandi’
‘Any other stuff not allowed to carry in person’
‘Lethandi’
‘What lethandi, lethandi?’ He was vexed with my monotonous reply. ‘This flight is not for Gopisetty palayam’
‘Look, gentleman, I have a valid passport and boarding pass.That is all what I need to board the flight whether it flies to New York or Nellikkuppam. And you need not worry about my security. Have you heard of Kalarippayyattu, the martial art of Kerala? I am an expert in that’
‘But, you do not appear to be a martial master’
‘Don’t go by appearance. Once upon a time —‘
‘That is OK, what do you have in that small bag?”
‘Sambharam, sarpagandhi—‘

The immigration officials, from coastal Andhra, had never before heard those names.
‘Sambharam?’ what is that? one fellow asked. His companion could not wait for my reply, ‘sarpagandhi, what is that?’ he asked, searching my bag.

I removed a bottle of white liquid from my bag and showed them.
‘Ghudumbha laga undhe!’, remarked one fellow who was familiar with country liquors.
‘This is sambharam, diluted butter milk, aptly flavored and spiced with curry leaves, salt, pepper powder etc’.
`Let me taste it.’ said the Ghudumba expert.
`Brahmandamandi, marvelous,’ the team gulped the entire liquid and cast away the empty bottle.
‘Sorry sir, we can’t allow any liquid in the flight. This is a new rule’
‘But that was not a liquid,’ I mentioned casually, looking at the opposite direction.
‘What was it then?’ They started worrying.
‘It was a gas. But don’t worry; it was a purgative. A mild one though,’ I gave a small explanation also, ‘ I have a problem for bowl-clearance ; was therefore carrying sufficient stock for six months’
‘Devuda, six month quota of purgative, three of us consumed in a matter of few seconds! EdugondalavAdA! ‘
‘Excuse me, I will be back in a moment’ One fellow rushed towards the toilet . The second one moved his palm across his tummy and the third one, with a hand signal warned those around him, to move away. After all, it was a gas and gas vaporizes. Some of the passengers who were in Que too had a feeling that they too were involuntarily inflicted by the malady of sambharam.
When calm was restored the enquiry on sarpagandhi was taken up.
‘That is a medicine for my blood pressure,’ I explained to the concerned officer.’ you can have that too’
‘But, I have no blood pressure’
‘You have a head! Any one with a head or a wife, is bound to have a head ache’
‘If this Brahmin stays here for another five minutes, we all will have not only blood pressure and head ache but we will go mad.’ His staff were united in their opinion.
‘Vellandi, vellandi please carry on’. The head of Security was in a hurry to dispose me off.
Raising his hands above his head, Prof. Nandur , wished us a safe journey and remarked, ‘Have a comfortable journey and memorable stay in US’
‘Chala thanks andi Nandur garu. Memorable indeed will be his sojourn in US, even for our neighbors!’

‘There is a Sanskrit sloka,’ Ammalu said, while boarding the flight and recited a funny couplet in Malayalam which says that a dog’s tail will never get straightened, even after keeping in a straight tube for thousand years:

‘Aayiram kalam kuzhalilitteedilum–…’
‘Hei, wait,’ I interposed; ‘that is not Sanskrit’
‘You told the airport fellow that you don’t know Sanskrit!’

To continue

Ammalu’s last minute prayer

Prof. Nandur, my daughter Aparna’s father in law,, came with his car to take us to the airport. He weighed the two suitcases and found that the weight was about 65 kilos, the maximum limit permitted by the Airline those days. Before his arrival, I had asked Ammalu to allot some space for me in one of her suit cases.

‘No,’ she said. It was a firm and final ‘No’ . ’When women  clad in colorful sari, asks for a favor, you do it instantly, blindly and smilingly, least worrying about the consequences,’  she fumed. ‘I’m am going to USA for the first time and I would like to carry a few things for our children, nephews and other relatives.  Did you ever think about it?  And should I not have enough stock of clothes for a six months – stay there? . Did you ever think about it ?’
If Prof. Nandur had not entered in, asking, ‘what is going on here, babies?’, Ammalu would have unleashed a few more, ‘did you ever think about it?’.

‘The suitcases are so heavy. What on earth are you carrying to US?,’ Nandur  enquired. Then he added, ‘it is natural. You would like to carry maximum during your maiden trip ‘.

‘I am yet to pack my things,’  I confessed, ‘these are the gifts from my friends and neighbors to be delivered to their kin in US’

I have never seen his mouth so wide-opened. ‘You are elder to me; I should be choosy in my words,’  he admonished me. ‘Sir, you haven’t grown much since your childhood. You have no perception about time, distance or money. Indians are scattered in that vast country and you think that your son, busy with his work from 7 a m  to 7 p m,  five days a week, will have time to dispatch these goods to different destinations? And why should he bear the cost?’
He had one more question. ‘And, where is your luggage, your own personal stuff for six months- stay there?’

‘paropakartha midam sareeramandi -this body is to serve others,’

‘This is not service, this is stupidity’.  He lamented.

The gate opened and entered in, my friend Kesava Varrior, an Ayurvedic physician, carrying a big bag in his hand.

‘ I would like you to carry a few medicines, just one or two small bottles of ‘arishtams and Kashayams’ along with some ‘lehyam and choornam’, to a client in Pennsylvania. They are life-saving products.  You won’t refuse them, I know, as you have a big heart’

‘Indeed his heart has vast vacant space, not his suit cases,’ intervened Nandur, ‘and your arishtams and aavam bottles can be loaded into his big, spacious heart’

‘Varrior,  my two suitcases are already full with others’ gift items and I am left with only a cabin luggage to carry my personal belongings, I explained, ‘still, I will accommodate your life- savers in my cabin luggage. Please pack them, leaving a small area for two sets of dress for me and a pouch holding tooth paste, shaver, medicines ‘

That was before 9/11 and liquids could be carried in cabin luggage.
‘Don’t worry about your dress, medicines, books and other things. I have already packed in my suitcase,’ Ammalu said.
‘I will never get a wife like you in America even if I stay there for six years, Ammalu’

‘Why in America, no where in the world you will find a woman like Amnalu madam’  Prof. Nandur commented and asked our attendant Idumbhu to load the luggage into his big Vehicle.

While the suitcases were getting loaded, Varrior reminded that I was leaving on an inauspicious ‘thithi’.
‘Pull out the luggage,’  he yelled at the professor and turned towards me asking,’how did you miss such an important point?’
‘I am not the one who ignores the thithies, stars and planets, Varrior.. I have left packs of rice and dal in my neighbor’s house, yesterday, to ward off the evil’.

Professor blinked. He never knew the existence of such tricks to fool the stars and planets, which are bent upon troubling us.

From nowhere came running  Mrs. Misra , moving heavily all the fat she had accumulated at her front and back, all these years.

‘Pick up her luggage also,’  the prof. taunted me.

Mr Misra passed away a few months before. Though we were close friends, I didn’t appreciate his wife, a widow appearing before us,  while proceeding on a long trip. It is not a good omen. But when Mrs. Misra bent her head down to touch my feet, I noticed the ‘kumkum’ mark on her head.
.
‘Bless me for a long married life. I have a fresh husband now, Mr.Sarma is his name’
‘Ye, khyaji, fresh husband, like fresh vegetable?’  I enquired.
‘Ha ji, we got married just a few hours ago. I am Mrs. Sarma now. Sarmaji is a very nice man’
‘He is, I am sure,’ I concurred with her assessment and added, ‘otherwise he wouldn’t have married you’
I gave her my blessings so that Mr. Sarma will live long,  sparing his wife the trouble of seeking another fresh husband .

‘How could Mrs. Misra so shamelessly claim that she had become Mrs. Sarma, without flapping an eye-lid,’ Ammalu commented. ‘She used to fast for her husband every Monday, every Thursday and every Saturday?’

‘She is a very practical woman’,  I supported Mrs Misra, Sorry Mrs Sarma. ‘She has no children. She needs a human companion. Otherwise,  even for buying an aspirin tablet or a sachet of milk, she has to go out herself’

‘So, she remarried for buying an aspirin tablet or a sachet of milk?, Ammalu asked . ‘Not exactly. But milk and medicines too are essential for life,’   Ammalu did not appear to have been convinced with my reply. ‘ A life-long loyalty and memory to be sacrificed at the altar of a small need ? How could she, just by moving a little finger, cast away the torrents of affectionate actions, animated debates, astronomical aspirations, symmetrical and asymmetrical thoughts accumulated through years of sharing life together ? ‘
‘But Mishraji is no more,’  I replied and I was clear about it.
‘Mere death cannot wipe away the husband-wife relation ship’
‘Mere death?’,  I asked, ‘how foolish you are! Death ends everything

‘Really? ‘  Amnalu, unusually, is in a talkative mood today. ‘Husband my die, wife may die but their relationship never dies’
‘It is something new to me, ‘  Prof. remarked , ‘I have never heard madam talking more than monosyllables ‘

‘I dislike her action, totally, Nandur garu,’ she commented and went towards our pooja .

‘Went again to say ‘good bye’ to your Guruvayoorappan?’

’No, to request Cherunetturi Baghavathi to bless Mrs. Sarma with MAngalya bhAgyam, prolonged married life’

‘Ammalu, after expressing strong reservation , you went to plead God, for her successfu remarriage! Difficult to know the  way your mind works’

‘Which husband has understood his lifemate?’

‘My maiden US visit’ is a hilarious and imaginative account of my leaving home for a foreign country.

Chapter. 1

‘Pozhakkatheiryatha brahmanan- innocent Brahmin!’ – that is me!

Every week- end, my children call from America and talk for almost an hour.

‘Are  overseas calls free in US ?’ I used to wonder . Once , after discussion about almost everything under the sun, my second son, Atchuth, who weighs his words in a Mettler balance before spilling, like his mother  and unlike his father, inquired, ‘ Dad! When is Ramiah’s black cow’s confinement expected ? ‘

While studying here, he never used to bother whether the milk he was drinking was that of cow’s or camel’s. Now he wants to know minutely about every happening here at home, his town and his country, including the expected delivery date of neighbour Ramiah’s cow!! Poor kids, they long for the smell of the soil from which they sprouted!  ‘Please get me a picture of our cow Kavery when you come to US,’  he demanded.

Yes, my maiden US trip has been organized by my children and I am excited.

A list of dos and don’ts followed and my first trial of instruction number one, was with my cook, Kalyani. When she entered my room with morning coffee, I greeted her by a pleasant ‘hai’ and then said ‘thank you’, when she kept the tumbler on the central table. She looked into my eyes sternly, waited for a while keenly observing the way I was sipping from the tumbler instead of raising it a foot high. While she came closer to remove the coffee tumbler, I grabbed her hand and again said ‘thank you’. There is a limit for anything. She looked at my eyes, as if she was looking at them for the first time, collected the tumbler, bolted out murmuring, “Pavam, Sámi; yakshi piditchu”- poor Sir, he is under the influence of an evil force ! 

‘Ramu, excuse me, will you please sneeze for me?’

I asked the boy next door, ‘I wanted to say ‘bless you’!’ 

‘Say bless you’ when someone sneezes- was the instruction no. 2

‘Sneezing and snoring can’t be forced upon, grand pa,’ the disobedient kid chided, ‘you should have known by now’. When I explained to him that it was a part of my trials, he retorted, !then, you should sneeze, not me!’ 

I attempted a mock sneeze and failed miserably. He responded spontaneously, ‘Bless you! You need that in tons’

See how he talks at eight? I never dared to talk to any elders so arrogantly even at forty eight!

Home is hardly an ideal place for practicing, I realized by now and decided to continue my practice outdoor.

‘Amma! Parvada vardhini! Bagunnava- how do you do?,’ I inquired as I entered my former colleague’s house and declared: 

‘within a month I am off to America . Have you heard about that great country? You know it is…..’. I spread my hands sideways to impress upon her that country’s size.

‘Am I looking like a ‘parvatham’-mountain for your soda-glass eyes?,’ She yelled, ‘one hundred times, I have asked you to call me Puppy’ 

‘Puppy sounds like a pet dog’s name,’ I tried to reason out with her,’ and your worthy parents would have named you after a mountain, probably foreseeing your future development and expansion’

Ignoring my explanation, she called her servant woman, Pochamma and ordered, ‘tell him  how many times you visited US, so far, to baby-sit my grand daughter?’

‘Five or six, Pappi,’ she replied in a semi American accent and in fully American style of addressing known people by their first name.

Kitta Anna is my neighbor. He was my senior while in service, but even though both of us retired long ago, he still considers me his subordinate. I sneaked into his house after making sure that he had left for his morning walk and only Manni (his wife) was at home. ‘Manni! I have good news,’ I said while entering the house.

‘You bought a new ball pen??’ she inquired.

‘Why should I, when I can get a new one every time I borrow from others? ‘ I joked and declared, ‘I am going to US shortly.’ 

She discarded the broomstick in a corner and rushed inside to get sweets for me. By that time my venerable former boss entered inquiring, ‘ Ivan enna seiran inke- what is this fellow doing here?’

‘Congratulate him,’ manni prompted her husband, pointing her finger towards me. ‘He is going to America ‘

‘Onakku ennada theriyum- what on earth do you know?’ Anna yelled as usual. That was the question he used to ask me often when I was working as a clerk under him years ago. Then he turned towards his wife and commanded : ‘Ask him whether he can write a leave- letter without five mistakes?’

‘Manni! Tell Anna that I am not going to America to write leave- letters,’ I said, subtly establishing my independence in the post- retirement era.

‘He deplorably lacks common sense and can’t even go to Palakkad without someone’s assistance, and he says that he is going to America’, said Kitta anna and with a contemptuous look, moved away, murmuring,  ‘he needs Ammalu’s help even to go to bathroom’ 

Next, I went to Pazhavoor Parukkutty’s house, in the next street.

She was excited. ‘Anna, how lucky I am! I was waiting to hear this happy news for years’

‘I am a bit confused,’ I responded, worrying whether she was planning to accompany me and spoil my trip, I inquired  ‘How  does my trip bring you luck and why are you so thrilled on my leaving the country?’

‘Sweet sappidungo-have sweet first’. She handed over a small piece of laddu and within no time, served half-a-tumbler of hot coffee too. I was not prepared for that hospitality from her. It was happening for the first time.

Her husband entered while I was enjoying the coffee.

‘She  gave you coffee? he inquired disbelievingly. ‘Mattikkindai- pity you ! you are hooked ,’ he said. I didn’t know what he meant.

That evening Parukkutty came home with five pieces of tapioca pappadams and handing them over to me, gloom pervading her face, as if she was parting with five gold coins, said, ‘my mother brought them from Kollam last month’

‘Your mother brought them last month and you were holding them with you safely so far?,’ I inquired and added, ‘Pappadam and Pazhavur Parukkutty never age’

She was immensely pleased.

Next day she came with another gift: six pieces of ‘thair molakai’ – chillies soaked in curd and dried.

‘These too were brought by your mother last month? ,’ I asked disbelievingly.

‘No, I prepared them, specially, for you?’ she replied, ‘one  should be liberal in giving’ 

‘Indeed, one should be liberal in giving, like you,’ I endorsed .

Next day she came home, with a carton, full of dolls and before opening it, placed on my hands, two ‘cheedai’ balls, so small that even a toddler could swallow twenty at a time.

‘Here are a few dolls for my daughter, Saraswathy, which she says, will bring her prosperity, if I send them through you’

‘Did she say so?,’ I asked raising my head high.

‘She did,’ replied the good lady,’ she knows that you are pious and Godly’ 

Wah, no woman in my whole district had given me such as a certificate.

I was pleased beyond words. Still, with difficulty, I could collect a few words and said, ‘how the western life refines people! You remember, before she left for US, she used to describe me as having a ‘saintly’ look but a ‘satanic’ outlook.

Parukkutty wanted my earnest opinion on an issue which was disturbing her. ‘Is it appropriate to send, for the first time to a married daughter, these dolls of Rama, Sita and Lakshmanan on their way to forest?’  Then, without waiting for my reply she added, ‘can I send a set of Dasavatharam dolls also?’

‘Please do, I replied. Within ten minutes Mahavishnu’s all avatarams were before me.

Her gloomy look revealed her sadness in Mahavishnu limiting his incarnation to ten.

‘I wanted to pack an Anjaneya also along with these dolls, to accompany you in your first visit across the seas. But, I wanted your permission’

‘Seeking my permission to do me a favor?,’ I chided that innocent woman. ‘After all, it was Anjaneya who crossed the sea, before Columbus or any other sailor’ 

She walked up to the gate and returned.

’See, I am suggesting this only because I know you well. You are a poet; a man of love and a devotee of Krishna. Carry with you the dolls of those divine lovers, Radha and Krishna too’ 

My stars have started shining too bright! Women are showering complements on me !

Anju Reddy’s wife Manju, came running, looked deep into my eyes and lamented, ‘ don’t want to talk to you, Sir’ 

‘Why madam?,’ gazed at her saddened face, ‘did I commit some wrongs, unknowingly?’ 

‘You worry about the welfare of everyone in this colony, but never take care of your own health. See how anaemic you look!’ 

Anxiety was overflowing in her words, when she said: How anaemic you look!

‘Anaemic ? Just last week, my Hb value was excellent!’ 

‘No sir, you are glowing as ever! I was joking,’ she exclaimed with a sigh of relief,. ‘You look as smart as you were ten years before’

‘But Anju! Ten years ago, you were in US! ‘

My smartness never fades but how could she have noticed it from America?

‘My dad always used to talk high about you’ . Her clarification was impressive; her drunkard dad often used to ask me whether I was circular or linear, in shape.

While leaving, she asked me an innocent question; ‘Can I send through you a small packet of ‘avakkai’ pickle for my sister in Texas?’

‘Give me two packets Anju, why one?’ 

I was really liberal. She, in fact, brought five!! 

Like this my load increased. Wet grinder, coconut scrapper, Pulla Reddy sweets, coffee filter, sevai maker, iddli cooker—you name it; I am carrying that. Anju was responsible for collecting the gifts and packing them. She did a good job..

“Pozhakkatheriyatha Brhamana!’ Ammalu took her forefinger to the tip of her nose and looked at me, pitying my foolishness.