Heavily pampered and a size bigger??? – I
think that’s a completely acceptable level of transformation, after having
visited my folks back home. A very short vacation of 3 days, but well spent in
a quaint little village in Palakkad, often praised as the land of Palmyra trees
(karimpanakalude nadu). Not to forget the Palmyra palm fruit – I have a dozen
in the fridge now (drool)! Palakkad is undoubtedly one of the hottest places in
Kerala and March is definitely not the right time to visit. But since it also
happens to be my native, I can’t turn my back at it, definitely not when the
place celebrates mango and jackfruit season in full swing. So apart from the
few pounds I have accumulated, I also carried along a bag full of juicy and
pulpy mangoes, fondly called as “mottukudiyan or eempikudiyam manga” and
another bag full of jackfruit chips or chakka varuthathu. Now that’s what the
Malayalee in me call - Nirvana!!!
Kodumunda is my dad’s native place and I may have spent the least amount of time, but every time
I visit this village, I sense a flood of memories gushing in; the experience
was not any different this time. So, here I am dedicating this post to those
fond memories and to all those who fight hard against the nostalgia such
thoughts bring in.
Disclaimer
– I wanted to click some great shots this time but as usual forgot to carry the
camera. So the images used in this post are from my dear sister’s collection and edited by me.
Ours is the village that belongs to the
“valluvanad”or South Malabar stretch, overlooking the Bharathapuzha River (River
Nila). Valluvanadan Malayalam is said to be the purest and refined; for
that reason this place is home to many known names in Malayalam literature too.
To give you a typical example; we call coconut “naalikeram” when the rest of
Kerala calls it “thenga”. :P I still remember how my friends would leave a
frown hearing the way I speak or name certain things; but I can’t help
it guys that’s in my blood!
Back during my childhood days we used to
spend two months vacation every year here at my dad’s native. Coming from the hustle and
bustle of the city life, it was like connecting back with nature in its full
glory. That’s why when mom and dad wanted to spend their retired life here,
neither I nor my sister stopped them, knowing how hard it will be for mom to survive.
Well, my mom is not ordinary but a “super mom” and despite having born and
brought up in the convenience of city life, she has very well tamed the village
in her own ways. :-)
I can forever sit in our padippura (gate-house of my ancestral home)
gazing at the paddy fields and watching kids doing somersault into the pond. It
takes me back a couple of decades! The sound of the wind and that of flowing
water, endless chirping of the birds, the stretch of greenery and more of it
far and wide – if I die and there happens to be heaven and if I happen to go
there, I would like it to be this way! Oodles and more of peace and hope!
As kids we used to look forward to summer
vacations. A typical day at my ancestral house started with white super
thin crispy dosa with yummy coconut chutney made by my grandmother and served with love; no
Saravana Bhavan or Anand Bhavan can come even close to the taste. Around nine in the
morning we would leave for our swimming expedition; here every house has a pond
or two within the premises, somewhat like a natural pool and that used to be
our highlight during vacations. A good part of our childhood must have been
spent in those ponds swimming and racing against eat other. Yes, we may have
drowned a hundred times, gulped gallons of waters, got face-to-face with grass
snakes, but we would still jump in and continue swimming. We wouldn’t return until
12 noon, which is the time for a quick gulp of starchy rice water, with salt
and a dollop of ghee! The word awesome would be an understatement.
Early in the afternoon when our parents indulge in a short nap, we along with our gang of cousins would venture out. My ancestral house
had an attached barn, stables for cows, a well, an outhouse and acres of land
with coconut, mango, jackfruit, tamarind, areca nut, teak, Palmyra trees as
well as spices like black pepper and nutmeg. So imagine how huge our playground
used to be! Mangoes and tamarinds used to be our favourites and we used to
painstakingly pluck or pick from the already fallen lot, climbing trees,
fighting for the best fruit, falling at times and stamping on thorns, but still
carrying back the pick for the day. Back in the house near the kitchen area, we used to
juice mangoes with hands and drink to our hearts glory. The taste still
lingers! If we happened to find a couple of ripe bananas, we would bury them in
hot coal and believe me, charcoal burned bananas are the best!
By late evening we would wait for our
grandfather, have dinner with him, follow him to his bedroom and would surround
him with requests for stories. TV came much later and until then his stories
used to be our only source of entertainment. Those were the stories of Gods and
Goddesses, from the pages of Holy Scriptures and mythologies. He used to spice
it up with songs and we used to sing along. Then there were the real life stories,
from his life, his supernatural experiences and all that. Some we believed,
some we brushed aside, some we shared with our friends back in city. Seriously, those were the days!
Fresh air, good food, unconditional love
and memories that I’ll take to my grave – that’s what my home means to me. I am
happy that my sister’s kids now enjoy a part of what we did. But with such
villages giving way to little towns in the name of development or
globalization, I wonder, how many more generations will get to enjoy such
brilliance that nature has to offer. But then, memories will still remain!
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