Hello Aunty!!!

So there is this tiny, Punjabi restaurant, from where I regularly get my rotis.

Yeah, yeah, I am a lazy slob and don't make my own chappatis! Now can I get on with my story?!

This has been going on for years. When I call the restaurant, my voice is instantly recognized.

I am fondly greeted, we exchange pleasantries, wish each other good weekends and if I forget, they remind me that I like my rotis without ghee.

There is this young guy who sometimes picks up the phone - a cultured, polite chap, who I assume is the owner's son, who cheerfully says, "Hi Madam!"

We always chat a bit, before the placing of the order.

So much so, that if once in a while, my husband calls, he asks him where 'Madam' is and why she hasn't called, much to Ashok's indignation!

We do go to the restaurant once in a while, where we are greeted like family members & the whole restaurant comes out to meet the '42, Golden Tower waali Memsaab'! But this guy has never been around to meet 'Madam'!

Recently, friends from India were here & they wanted to have homely Punjabi food. So we took them to our favorite restaurant.

As we entered, all the waiters, delivery guys and management, smiled warmly and I saw a young man, who was being told that this was the Madam who ordered rotis from Golden Tower. We were meeting for the first time and grinned at each other.

A few days later, Ashok called the restaurant to place an order. Our young guy picked up the phone. This time he asked, "AUNTY kaisi hain?"

Ha ha ha ....

That day I learned two important lessons:

1. My voice sounds young, like a 'Madam'!

2. In person, I look old enough to be an 'Aunty'!!!

PS: He continued to call Ashok, "Sir", not "Uncle", btw!!!!

Lungi Tales!

A length of fabric, a lifetime of memories ...

Ashok chose to beat the Chennai heat and fondly recall his friendship with Appa, by wearing Dad's lungis.

When I would go to the store to pick up Appa's lungis, I was always asked, whether the person who was going to wear them, was old and was then shown, sober shades.

Grinning widely, I would respond,
'young at heart' and proceed to buy lungis, in all the colours of the rainbow,
Orange, Yellow, Purple ....

Ashok Kaushik carried back a couple of Appa's lungis, to remind him of all the sports they watched endlessly together ...

the cursing, the cheering, the discussions -
bright, happy, loud, colorful moments,
just like the lungis Appa wore!

Now Ashok needs to learn to keep his lungi on, without allowing it to slip down!

Love You, Appa!

Appa, My First Superhero!

A trip home, to be with Appa, who is unwell.
The thought of seeing him in less than peak condition, worries me, as I fly towards Chennai.

This is the father, who until my last trip home, unfailingly woke in the wee hours of the morning, to brew filter coffee for me.

Dad, who took my newly married husband aside, while seeing us off at the Railway Station, to ask Ashok, to be patient and understanding. He assured him, that buried under all that aggression and loud talk, was a misguided, but good human being, meaning me!!!

The cool dude, who sheepishly asked me if I would like to 'see some boys' and hastily fled, after a quick embarassed nod, when I told him I wasn't ready.

When Amma went away for a wedding, for a few days, it was just Appa and me at home. I would come from work, to find that Dad had a hot meal waiting for me. Sure, the custard was burnt and the 'vazhakkai'/kachcha kela, had been cooked, with the skin on ...
yet, one of the tastiest dinners I remember!

My father, who knew nothing about fashion, but surprised me by coming along to pick my wedding sari. One look at a golden yellow silk, with a maroon zari border and he said it was a 'mangalamaana' color, which would suit 'Uma-kutti'!

A man of few words, in a family dominated by women, the only person, who never fails to anxiously ask, "Has Uma eaten?"

Appa, who told me stories like the one where if you swallowed the seeds, a plant would grow from your stomach and out of your mouth!

I believed him ...

Appa, My First Superhero!

Can't wait to see you.

(Appa passed away a few days later.)

The Suitcases ...

The corner of my room has a couple of suitcases sitting quietly, patiently, waiting to be unpacked.

It’s been over a month since I returned from Chennai. It is scary how easy it is to regain a semblance of normalcy & resume your routine, no matter how big your loss has been.

The two most important people in my life, who were not just my parents, but were responsible for the individual I shaped into, are not around anymore; Yet life moves on, food is cooked, housework happens, you go for your walks, watch your TV shows, spend time with friends & relatives, interact on social media & on the surface, you almost fool yourself that all is kind of well …

But then, those suitcases, unpacked & unattended to, make me confront the painful reality that this is the last time I will return from Amma-Appa’s house, with bags bursting with everything under the sun - from rasam powder, bright, happy clothes which delighted Amma, documents & bank stuff, carefully packed by Appa, old photographs stolen from the family collection … & the smells, of hot, flavored sambhar, of the odonil from Amma’s cupboard, of Appa fresh from his shower, filling the air with the scent of talcum powder and generously sprayed perfume, of the music in the air, from MS’s divine voice, to old hindi film songs, the sounds of the servants being scolded, of Amma excitedly chatting on the phone with her siblings, the aroma of coffee, carefully prepared by Appa in the wee hours of the morning … A lifetime, of being loved unconditionally, packed into those two suitcases.

So the unpacking will have to wait. Till I can breathe normally, till the knot of pain in my stomach melts, till I can look at photographs of Amma-Appa, which dot my walls & not want to physically hug them, till I cannot feel totally devastated that milestones will happen in our lives, graduation, weddings, children … without their physical presence, though the love and blessings hug you like a warm, soothing blanket forever!