Kula Deivam and the Act of Returning

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Kunnathur, rebuilt — familiar, and not. When I was growing up, I spent most summers with my grandparents and extended family. My maternal side was based in Pudukkottai, my paternal side in Gobichettipalayam—Gobi, for short—in Tamil Nadu. Like most families, ours has since scattered, pulled toward larger cities and better livelihoods. The structure is new. The pull is old. Back then, our visits were unremarkable in the best way. We stayed home. Visitors came and went through the day. When we were in Gobi, there was one outing we never missed: a visit to our kula deivam at Kunnathur, about twenty-five kilometers away. We would pile into a van or a bus, pack food, and set out like an informal family pilgrimage—grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, all together. My paati would make sweet pongal and offer it to Goddess Angala Parameswari, an avatar of Parvati. There were no restaurant...
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Food for thought

It is winter time in Stuttgart,
Better to live on bread and jam tarts,
But come you have from Bangalore,
Where food you have galore!!

An early wake up call,
Takes you to the breakfast hall,
And all you get to see,
Gives enough reasons to flee!!

No reason to think twice,
To eat what you despise,
If you get to be chosy,
Life cannot be any rosy!!

A hurried breakfast and a run,
In the cold and no trace of the sun,
To catch the bus in a few miles,
Can give you no morning smiles!!

As you get ready for lunch,
And absolutely have no hunch,
The food prepared last night,
Will it end up alright?

As you prepare the food to heat,
You realise it is no mean feat,
To eat self prepared food,
Which is not all that good!!

Soon, Dinner time it is,
You don't want to miss,
To try out something new,
So what if you eat a few!!

You learn at last,
That to cook good and fast,
Practice once, twice and thrice,
Before you pay the same price

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