The first ever memory of my life starts when I was around 4 years old. There were many people gathered in groups talking in low voice and I didn't know what was happening. Then I saw dear Mattemma, my grandmother's mother lying on the floor alone. Though I didn't understand death, I felt very sad. I still remember the song she taught me about the bird who lost her egg, searching for it, and the song described all the animal kingdom.
She was buried in the backyard and her cot remained empty. There were more people than the number of cots in the house. Mattemma had occupied the room on the ground floor of the double storied portion of the house. After her death, her cot too was brought to the hall where we all slept. Now there were 3 cots in the hall. One was permanently reserved for grandma's elder sister whom we called, Gowri valliamma. She lost her eye sight due to old age. Another cot was meant for Ammoomma. According to my observation she was the most unfortunate member of the family. But she was the most capable, loving and ever pleasant woman who held the family together. I have a whole story to write about her, which I will add later. Ammoomma's cot was always occupied by any member who was ill in the family. So she slept near me on the floor. There were a good number of children sleeping on the floor. The third cot had a mother with an infant. In my earliest memories, it was my mother with one of my younger 3 siblings.. On one side of the hall there was no wall but an iron grill. Mats were spread on the floor for us to sleep. We were all afraid of the dark.
I still wonder why there was so darkness everywhere. The bulbs gave such dim light, we couldn't see each other's face. Outside the house it was so dark and I feared that darkness so badly.
fntastic..a memoire full of tender love,pleasure,tears and nostalgia..thanq dear friend...s.saradakutty
ReplyDeleteWonderful to read about all the pillars of our culture and family tradition.
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