Posts

Showing posts from August, 2009

The House in Gobichettipalayam

Image
Sashtiapthapoorthi Function — Me in the front (with eyes closed) My summers were spent in Pudukkottai and Gobichettipalayam — Gobi, as we called it. Away from school and homework, those months were filled with the easy warmth of grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. Summer was the time to let loose. Gobi Home We would take the overnight train from Bangalore to Erode, and from there a bus to Gobichettipalayam — Gobi. We usually arrived early in the morning at Seethammal Colony. My paati, already awake and waiting near the door, would greet us as soon as she heard the metal gate creak open. The smell of freshly brewed filter coffee would drift out from the kitchen. I would run straight into her arms. “Vaada Kannu,” she would say, her eyes beaming with happiness. “Vaada Krishna, Vaa Raji,” she would call out to my parents. Slowly, the rest of the house would stir. People in the living room would wake, and within minutes the house would be buzzing wi...

The groundnut seller

It was a stormy evening, and all that Natarajan could conjure at that instant was to find some basic form of shelter that could keep him protected from the chilly winds and incessant rains. It was a hard day at work, and this was something that he really hadn't asked for. He had to get back home on time, as already his busy schedule was preventing him from spending quality time with his family. He realized that being the head of the Accounts department at Ramanujan Textiles was doing no justice to his personal life. He had to attend to so many different things at a time. He was always held up in some kind of discussion, and that always prevented him from completing his daily work within the stipulated hours. The extension of his professional life encroached well into his personal life. So, that morning, while leaving for work on his two wheeler, he had made a resolve to leave work on time. It was a perfect day for him until he was stuck in this situation. His mind was clus...

Arranged or love?

What does that mean? , he inquired rather quizzically. Arranged or love , I said, with a meek look of embarrassment creeping into my face. Here, we just have marriages , he said. Well, the fulcrum of the discussion that I had with one of my many American friends a few days ago, revolves around the age old practices of the Indian society, and marriage happens to be such a key attribute that it cannot be left out of any conversation. If you happen to be talking with a person from another country, the fascination they place in our customs is easily noticeable. In India, marriages are classified into just two categories - arranged or love. If you happen to tell your friends that you are getting married, you will not be surprised to hear the question shot at you almost instantaneously, arranged or love? . You have virtually made up your mind to reply back even before the question is asked. So, arranged marriage is basically a concept, where the girl and the boy are introduced to each...