The Obsessions - Chapter - 18

Childhood Revisited

My retirement days became more excited with the arrival of the monsoon with a bang. Miles and miles of dark clouds moved from the Arabian Sea to the skies of villages and towns. The sun took a holiday. It was difficult to trace the sun as it hid behind the rain clouds all day. The rain fell in inclined lines as the howling winds blew in accompaniment. The artificial darkness and the noise of the distant rains advancing further increased the merriment of the living beings. Humans, who had complained about the merciless sun battering the earth, withdrew their tongues inside their mouth and instead ran for covering their bodies from the pleasant coolness spread by the blessed showers from heaven. On such a beautiful day, my brother Sivan and I ventured out in our car. Driver Ramesh was excited as he was going to our destination for the first time.

The pot holes on the national highway gaped more as the rain pulverized the road surface without mercy. The panoramic view of the scenic surroundings was a feast to the eyes. With the shutters closed, the Korean automobile braved the dangers of the ill planned roads, cut across the rain thumping on its bonnet and windscreen. When we reached the border with the adjacent state, forests surrounded us with an eerie noise of the falling rain. Already dark, the day became darker with the black cloud cover above the canopy of trees. Long lines of trucks lined the side of the road pending checking by the hardworking excise personnel.

When we crossed the border, the rain clouds chased us. The sun was still shivering and was shy to come out. The toll stations on the newly built highway, took a great toll of our money. The landscape changed. The faces of people changed. The language changed. Thick vegetation and trees gave way to open lands with black soil. Posters of movie superstars donned very huge billboards. I felt cheerful when I saw my favourite superstar in ever exciting dancing poses among scantly clad members of the fair sex. Our excitement mounted as we were slowly getting nearer and nearer our destination.

We reached Avinashi, a bustling business town. A huge wooden base with wheels used for the local car festival stood high covered with tarpaulin. I remembered very vividly the same scene, fifty three years back, when I used to travel with my grandfather in a diesel bus owned by the famous G D Naidu.

The hotel displayed its name in a huge board in front. As we entered the lunch home, we saw many humans eating, splashing their right hands into the contents of green banana leaves. The noise of breaking appalams and human teeth attacking the food inside the mouth cavity, reverberated the hall.

We settled down for lunch. A Malayalee (Malayalee Malayalee everywhere…) waiter brought us very good looking banana leaves. He warned us to clean the leaves and not to take for granted the innocent appearance of the leaves. He was overwhelmed with the fact that we brought rain to the town, as it had started to drizzle, quite uncommon during that part of the year. Two other waiters joined the ritual and threw dishes on to the front side of the leaves. Fried appalams were placed at one end of the leaves with one piece of oval shaped dhal vada at the centre of the appalams. The sight was very appetizing. They dumped rice on to the centre of the leaves to the shape of a hill. They were very generous and I had to tell them to stop the rain of rice. We ate our lunch with very great appetite and in the end folded the leaves and placed the steel tumblers over them as counterweights and rushed to the wash area to get our hands and mouths cleared of the debris of our vegetarian attack.

We enquired about our route to the destination and were advised to proceed further. As we reached the first tee intersection, we turned to the left. The road was very motorable with no bumps and potholes. It was lined on both sides with tamarind trees. Their branches touched at the centre in a parabola giving the road a green house effect with perpetual shade. Scenic green vegetation and coconut groves were on both sides extending up to large areas. The weather became very pleasant. The sky was partly cloudy.

Mile stones showing further distance to our destination greeted us intermittently. We started the count down 4,3,2,1 km and there we were at Gobichettipalayam, our dear destination. This heavenly place is special to us as we were visiting it for the first time in fifty three years. Our father was working at that place as Inspector of Post Offices during that time when I was twelve years old and my brother was five. Our happiness reached its azimuth as we were revisiting our childhood. The roads looked very neat and the town was not overcrowded. We took the wrong road to our hotel. We asked a lady the way to the hotel and she directed us correctly. The people were very peaceful and helping. Females outnumbered males. This was proved by their presence in more numbers on the road.

Emerald House was the lodge we had booked for. We opened our room. The balcony overlooked the road. The neem trees in the hotel compound transferred breeze to our room. Everything was nostalgic as we could not believe that we had reached Gobichettipalayam after a lapse of 53 years. The road in front of the hotel was quite wide. We drove to a restaurant called Anbu Bhavan. The ambience was very good. The aroma of dishes and sweets was very appetizing. Everything was served in banana leaves. We had good refreshments. We walked down the road. The Nagaiaha Theatre still stood there with an antique look. We had watched movies in that theatre more than half century back with our parents. Nostalgic memories developed wings and took us back to that era.

There was only one road running through the heart of the town. We drove slowly looking at the town which had developed into a very neat and well planned place. At one of the intersections, a certain familiarity crept into my mind. That was the Hospital road which led to the Vaikkal (Irrigation Canal). We drove slowly and reached the Vaikkal. Water was flowing with great velocity. The sight of the bridge sent shudders through my spine.

The year was 1954. It was in the evening that we accompanied my grandfather to the Vaikkal. My brothers and I were in a jolly mood spending the evening with my grandfather, outdoor. As we reached the Vaikkal, my brother Sivan, then five years old, started to walk along the wooden bridge of the canal, unattended. A raging bull came from the other bank and was rushing towards my brother who was in the middle of the bridge. We went pale with fear. My grandfather’s sixth sense made him ran towards Sivan and he carried him in his arms running towards us. The bull ran past us to the fields. It was a providential escape from a tragic mishap. For many days that spine chilling incident was the subject of our talking to anyone.

Two farmers were driving along the bank in their scootys carrying green fodder. There faces were rustic but innocent. They smiled at us. The scenic beauty of the surroundings instilled tranquility in us. The weather was cloudy with chances of an impending shower. I blotted the picture of nature in my camera. While returning, we walked along different streets to locate the house that we had lived in those eventful days of yesteryears with our parents. Our search was futile. Disappointment crept in as the purpose of our journey was proving to be fruitless. But the atmosphere refreshed us and our disappointment vanished and our excitement was reborn.

At the Emerald House, the breeze was cool. There was a mild drizzle accompanying the breeze. We switched on the television and in one of the channels, an old movie VANJIKKOTTAI VALIBAN, was being aired. It was so apt to the occasion to watch a movie of the olden era. My brother and I talked about our parents and their love for us. We talked about those unforgettable days of our childhood.

The next morning, we stood at the balcony and enjoyed the breeze caressing us. There was an unexplainable pleasure being in that place. The vibrations were so positive that we forgot everything that was mundane. After breakfast at Anbu Bhavan, we drove along the friendly roads to the nearby village where the KODAVERI DAM was situated. It was constructed during the British Raj and the benevolent Tamil kings. The canal which took off from the reservoir was full of water and lined with trees and shrubs, a feast to our eyes. We walked in the garden and watched visitors riding on round boats in the reservoir. Due to surplus water in the reservoir, one of the gates was open and the water was falling downstream and the noise was very musical to our ears. The nature’s feast was very delicious and we enjoyed the same profusely.

The town of Sathyamangalm was about 15 kilometers from the dam and we decided to drive to the town. As we reached the town we found it very crowded and business was going on very briskly. Rain fell in small showers all along our drive back to Gobichettipalayam. On our way back, we visited the Municipal Park. A huge water tank had been constructed inside the park. That was the only difference I found in the park from that of 1954. The same old library was there where I used to read Tamil books. My father’s orderly had taught me Tamil. Another place we searched for was the first house where our parents stayed when my father was first transferred to Gobichettipalayam, VEDA VILAS. There were many new houses around the park and during 1954 the place was empty and VEDA VILAS had stood single. It was very difficult to locate the house as no one had any idea of such a house. But we were not discouraged and we ventured to find out the place. We went inside a compound where only an outhouse was there and the main building seemed to have been dismantled and only some strips of foundation were visible. My brother Sivan had stayed there and his faint memory confirmed that it was the place. So we were successful in finding out the dwelling and we felt very happy.

We returned to our lodge, refreshed ourselves and proceeded to Anbu Bhavan for lunch which was delicious as usual. One salient feature we observed was that all cleaners in that restaurant were women, which corroborated the fact that women outnumbered men in Gobichettipalayam. An afternoon nap refreshed us and we strolled out to the theatre Indira where the popular movie SHIVAJI was being screened. Tickets were readily available and we lined up in our seats waiting for the adventure. As usual, many ladies donned the chairs and we could see flowers adorning their hair. The aroma of the flowers added spice to the occasion and style to the Rajani exhibition. We thoroughly enjoyed the movie, more due to the fact that we were in Gobichettipalayam, our dream place.

The next day dawned at the Emerald House. The morning sun was peeping through the clouds and the breeze was once again refreshing as we looked over the balcony. It was a Sunday and the road had a lazy look. We had our breakfast and checked out of the Emerald House. Senthil, the lodge caretaker, bade farewell to us and we took a picture of his. There was a twinge in our hearts as the kind eyes of Senthil met ours while departing and we told him that we would visit again.

We wanted to try a last chance of locating the house we had stayed during 1954. We drove through the hospital road once again. We got down from the car and walked along many byroads looking for that house. At last to our awesome surprise we found that house of our joy, affection and parental love. We recognized every feature of the house. The lady of the house, who had bought it from the original owner, spoke to us and confirmed each of our statements and questions.

We regained the Lost Horizon. Our eyes filled and the wind was caressing us. An unknown pair of rough hands patted our backs and the aroma of parental love filled the atmosphere. Our childhood returned to us with waves of love embracing us. Crows flew past the buildings behind where once upon a time corn fields had adorned the earth. Car horns sounded from the front road where weavers used to stretch their yarn for their hand looms, half a century back. Bells chimed at the temple at the dead end of the road, the same temple from where the poojari had given prasadam in our tiny hands, once upon a time. The car negotiated the curve on the road and we spotted two faces on the terrace of that house waving to us…but soon were invisible…..the faces disappeared into the MAYA of life…..the wheels of the car trod on familiar roads, so did the wheels of life……

Abdul Khader took my hands in his and said “Sir you are a great person. We are lucky to have you here.”

The moon was half crescent. The cool breeze engulfed my body. The sea was calm, and I was calm, too. But it was the calmness before the Tsunami.