Nurungukal…2..contd..

    Last week blessed us with an opportunity to rewind the past and made us slide through some nostalgic memories.  As we descended the misty mountain road on our way to a suburban village in Palghat I never thought that the journey would end in the midst of a memorable past.

         After gracing through a muddy road wading through  lush green paddy fields and rows of palm trees we reached an ancient house  which was the abode of rich childhood events of my wife. In fact she was very fond of this visit and insisted for it adamantly contrary to her normal habits. Her father had renovated this house to its present status and glory a few decades ago. He was the dominant patriarch of the family and a strict disciplinarian. The eldest member of the present occupants, who is actually his nephew narrated how the dilapidated thatched house was transformed into the present state by using materials, especially wood from Wayanad. All of them were brought in buffalo carts which was the popular mode of transport at that time. . The design, workmanship and structure was very much similar to the houses in Wayanad. As we walked in the surroundings of the house my wife was overwhelmed with joy. The ambiance rekindled her childhood experiences. The banks of the huge pond and the shades of the granny mango tree made her vociferous to explain the pranks she had with other children during each vacation. She even remembered the different taste of each mango and the ecstasy they had while sipping the juice.  

      There was a ritual on that day which was being conducted without fail over the last many many decades without fail. Almost all the family members assembled on this appointed day every year and celebrated the occasion as a grand gala get together. The worship and pooja extended up to late night. It gave us time to cud the glorious past of the family and recollect the many fun each had in a joint family matriarchal system. All were in high spirits and gathered in groups to exchange each one’s past and present. Late at night after a sumptuous dinner which included a variety of sweet and sour dishes we bade farewell with a promise to assemble again next year.

    Next day we headed for Ponnani, my native place to attend a function, in connection with the 84^th birth day of my elder sister. As we covered a few kilo meters the rumour came that three tuskers from the nearby forest are enjoying a sojourn near Ottapalam, even enjoying a splash in Nila river. In spite of the concerted efforts of the forest guards and police they refused to return to their natural abode. The curious crowd which had gathered to witness the rare sight made matters worse to the guards to retrace. Unfortunately we failed to be part of the melee.

       Many from different walks of life attended the function which my sister and her children had meticulously arranged. I met some who were once my close friends. They had changed a lot , some sob re, some looked wiser yet another pretended diplomacy by keeping silence. But the majority made use of the occasion exchanging pleasantries.  What impressed me most was the after dinner chit chat we had with the grand children of my uncle. We could manage to cover many episodes of our life with clarity.  I even managed to recollect a few lines of H.G.Well  about Emperor Asoka which  my uncle had taught, while he was dictating to me his book on world history in Malayalam. The tender feelings which one can derive from such intimate get together can preciously be nurtured deep in our hearts without losing their fragrance, rest of our life.  

And while the taste of the Payasams and Omanian special Halwa linger in my taste buds, me like Dushyantha try hard to keep my heart  from  galloping back…..dum, dum, dum, pi, pi, pee……