To A Ray of Warm Sunshine...

It had to be the best decision Capt. Shreedhara Menon ever made, when he decided to make conversation with Gopi, on his train journey from Kerala to Anantapur. 'A Ballsy move'- as today's transitional Gen Y to Z would call it. The towering short-mustached-broad-shouldered "Man in uniform" decided to ask his one-hour friend Gopi if he could ask his sister's hand in marriage. Gopi's sister, who sat right next to him. Gopi's sister - Lakshmi. Gopi's sister - the same graceful (literally) 'small bundle of joy' - I had the privilege to call - my grandmother (or as I would love to call, Ammamma, Ammasu, amooma, Muthashi .... depending on what I required of her).

Everyone asks me on how Chandu came into being - and Ammamma's theory to that was....Sandesh was too sophisticated for her, hence she stuck to her love for the moon, and thereafter came Chandu!

Ammamma used to be a once in a year sighting for most of my childhood days. She used to wait right by that gate, eyes yearning for that ambassador car to turn the corner, on our way in from the airport. The moment we step out, it's the tight hugs, kisses and tears. The same hugs that I would run to, even during my boarding days. No matter how old she grew, or how tall she stood (less than 5 ft), those hugs were something that would never be beat!

I grew close to Lakshmi kutty Amma (as the common man would address her, due to her die hard popularity) when I decided to study in Cochin for my college days. I needed support to stand against the heavily disciplined grandpa of mine. And Ammamma was the perfect partner in crime. Even though Grandpa took care of my 'Breakfast like a king' model. It was grandma's evening tea and snacks that were to die for. To her, cooking for me used to be the most exciting event of the day...And to me, feeding upon it. Away from the ears of Grandpa, I used to burp, and her expressions would break into a 'little girl in candy land' smile.

During my Cochin days, Alarm clocks got replaced with ammamma's morning prayer chants. Waking up to them, you knew your day could never go wrong. My buffer was the Gayatri Mantra. By the 108th, if I wasn't up, she was in my room (with her next set of mantras) and with the sound of it, I knew she wasn't happy. I used to guilt trip by mentioning how the gods wouldn't be happy about it. She quipped back saying, she would rather put up with the wrath of the gods than of my Grandpa's.

In contrary to grandpa's theory of light dinners, I was fed like a king all day - under the context of a growing child. Our evenings were dedicated to malayalam soap operas. The older she grew, the more involved she got into them. I still remember this one time, she fell into a mini-depression mode, when Kayamkulam Kochunni (the fable character) was in his death bed, and the episode rightfully ended with that scene.

That was one night when I didn't get my warm milk to drink. Thankfully it was a wolf-call, by the next night episode, Kochunni came back on his feet, and the Menon household returned to normalcy.

That was apart from the pointless debates we had on the neighbour's family and the town gossips. I used to sit through them, just so that I had that time to spend with her.
Weekends were sumptuous (as usual). Apart from that, we had our weekend movies, and our Carrom nights. Since there was no computers or Play Stations, during mum's days, my family mastered the board game of Carrom. So much so, that the duo of Grandpa and grandma, used to pick out coins and predict their fate (like the billiards pros) and a second later, it ended up exactly their way.

Whilst at making meals, Ammamma had her string of visitors...and its during those times, when I found out that she was that light to which people were drawn too... You had everything from domestic issues to requirements of blessings...and Ammamma had a solution to it all...And all this happened, whilst she thought of ways to excite me with her food. And as any genius would say - Oh it's a cakewalk..she did a good job at keeping everyone happy. As her Diabetes gained prominence, our 3 days in the week sweet tooth, got reduced to once a week, yet we had a jolly good time at it.

We lazed our evenings - she on her veranda chair, and me on the granite flooring and talked of everything under the moon. Everything from how 'fat Nandu' was growing to, to my wedding bells. She had specific requirements for my woman. Some times we used to get so carried away, that we even discussed on how I would bring up my kids. Most of the time, conversations would end up into her snoring away on her relaxo-chair.

I remember (to detail)that day, when she returned from the Army hospital after a check up. Grandpa and mum thought they did a good job of keeping it from her, until during one of our evening lazes, the "high school pass" whispered to me - "your mom and grand-dad think of themselves as smarter than me". Nonchalantly she said "it's Cancer". I grew cold, and asked her if it worried her. To which she laid back in her chair, took a deep sigh and said with a crack in her voice - "Chandu, people die fighting wars, at least now I have a battle to my name". She feared, but she masked it well - and she did a good job at it

It's been two years now, and it actually struck me hard -Today!
Today, I got out of that vehicle on my way in from the airport, and I stared into that empty space, waiting for her hug! Mum came around and wrapped me, and I was still left with something missing. I wished, she was around.

I waited to touch her feet, as normal routine, before entering the house... and for the lack of it, I felt lesser blessed. I wished she was around.

My home had lost its voice, my grandpa lost his vigor...I lost my friend...I wished she were around.

At times I have blamed myself for leaving.. Maybe she would have been occupied if I was around, not having time to think of her terminal illness. But knowing her well enough and her fondness for Canada, she would frown upon me, if I had passed upon such an offer to go overseas.

Mum was there by her side till the very end..and each time she recounts her last few days, I ought to say she fought like a brave wife of a soldier. (We mutually agreed that if a soldier fought for his motherland, it's the wife who fought (the heavens) for his life - thus rendering the wife to be more courageous - she loved beating her own drums!)

Today I look at all that I have conquered. And not a day goes by, when I tell myself, that it's all her good karma. It gives me some self assurance, that she is there right next to me, with her hugs!

I look up to her towards being that lovable human being, who had done much for the people around her. Apparently, she went down with a fighting spirit and a smile!

She truly did justice to her life, and I loved and admired her for it.

All I can hope for, is my mother would have the same fortune with her grandkids, some day!

This is to you my dearest.. May your soul rest in peace, my love, my Ammamma!