"Memory is the dairy we all carry about with us". Memories and Moments make our life. Are you interested in listening to one of my childhood memories? Can I call it a sweet memory you tell me.
May be it was the late 1980’s, before 35 years, I was in my maternal grandparent’s house, to spend the summer vacations. The house ‘Ramanilayam’ used to be our Tharavadu. Tharavadu means the common ancestorial house of grandparent where all children and grand children would visit or live together. All cousins would come, stay, fight and play here during our growing up days. The house would have bathroom with well on one side a little far from the main home. Toilet would be on the other side.
Summer was
the time when mango tree and jackfruit tree were not just loaded but would be laden
with fruits. There would be swings tied
to them. It would be great fun, celebrating festivals, swinging, playing, and dancing.
Also, there would be heaps of dried
paddy called haystack stored as pointed piles. Haystacks come in different shapes and sizes,
including piles of rectangular blocks of hay; rounded bales; and pointed piles
of hay. We were forbidden from lighting fire anywhere near it. It is
normally fed to farm animals.
We children
would run around the house, the haystack and the bathroom. There would be a
small sink hole, manmade, where a motor would be kept, to pull water from the
well. In it would grow, the ‘touch me not’ plants, the Kattu Thumba, and other plants
that cause skin blisters like the poison Ivy, Oak , sumac, hogweed, wild parsnip, stinging
nettle covering the motor. They would not be removed for two reasons, it would
be tough to cut them out, and they would safeguard the motor and prevent thieves
from steeling it.
As we were
playing one day, do not remember exactly which game, but I think it was hide
and seek; I was behind the well, hiding myself when my cousin came in search of
me, I kept moving backward, from the direction my cousin was coming with focus
on him so that he would not find me.
There I went ‘thud’ into the motorpit. I was shocked, crying and
screeming. All kids came around and joined me in shouting for help.
My grandfather was enjoying listening to the radio in the front room, which had a door facing the entrance and another towards the direction of bathroom.
He came
running, put his hands into the pit, asked me to catch it and pull myself up.
My body was full of blisters, I was crying, and there comes another ‘thud’ on
my face, a slap, with message loud and clear, “You fell, because you were not
careful; be careful going forward.” I was dumfounded. Unaware what went wrong.
I did have
a grudge against my grandfather for a while, but my mother made me realise the
importance of that warning, and how bad things could have turned out. I could
have fallen into the well from the hole where the pipe from motor goes into the
well too. We both loved each other dearly. I was his first grandchild, so very special
to him.
As years
pass by, I see the number of lessons from that event. These days, elders are
not allowed to scold young ones. I wonder how long the lessons given out of
love would last. For me, that was a lesson in E+R=O . There are some events and
Outcomes that we cannot change in our life. But what we can control is our
responses towards them. Whether it be going behind carefully, being aware of
the surroundings or being caught, and running ahead to be not out; rather than
falling into a pit. Also, it was upto me
on how I take that lesson, and continue my relationship with my granddad.
My lesson that day was 'Look before you leap'.
Thanks to
my mother and elders around, for the wonderful lessons during the growing up
days, that moulded me into the person I am today.
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