Coast to Coast

When I started this blog, I had too much time. Now I have so much material and so little time – it’s funny. I enjoy being a busy bee, whose upcoming three weekends are already well planned. I had gone back home, and enjoyed one of the best weeks of this year. My entire family has grown older but the home is the exact same. It was a great celebration, 60th birthday for my father which included 1.5 days of activities, including the re-enactment of my parents’ wedding. It’s not many who get to experience and cherish this, and what I felt most was gratitude. Also how adorable my parents looked in their “wedding” attire. My sister and I can only hope to look that good someday. It was even more fun to go “wedding shopping” with them, as every salesperson would just assume that it’s for me. I took extra glee in saying “no, not me, they are getting married again” while pointing at my embarrassed parents.

There was a lot to prepare too. Colour coordinated outfits for all of us, stitching, embroidering, shopping for gifts and what not. This included making twelve sets of packets we would hand to twelve ladies (many Hindu festivals involve giving offerings to young girls and married women; a symbol of revering female deities and a great way to stay connected). So, the day I arrived, my mother had kindly prepared 96 items (combs, bangles, saree blouse pieces) for me to remove price tags from.  My sister was going to perform four different classical dance pieces, but this sticker thing was my contribution.

I also caught up with my childhood friends, many of whom are in different stages in the “getting married” process. In a very interesting anecdote, my friend recalls how arranged marriage has become just as ruthless as any other form of partner-scouting. Only difference is that entire families are involved. I could go on and on about history and evolution of cultural practices in a globalised world, but I won’t (lucky readers). A new book I started to read, recommended by my former manager, Sapiens, is really up my alley in this regard. In fact I bought it along with Atomic Habits  and a few old Sudha Murthy favourites before going for my eye check-up. Given I have been visiting the same hospital since I was seven, the doctor is quite familiar with me. As soon as I walked in with my haul, “Are you planning to stay here for a week?” he exclaimed. He probably remembers that my mother used to make sure I was handed a textbook or a storybook to pass the long waiting times.

I also travelled to Mangalore to visit my grandmother, who is sweet, stubborn and sassy as always. She was extremely disappointed that I lost weight (who cares if I got an expensive gym membership for that very purpose). While accompanying her to watch a Kannada TV serial, I discovered that in one scene, the entire family mocked this new daughter-in-law for not being able to make chai. That was my cue to make my way outside to play with the dog and annoy my sisters. The return trip from Mangalore to Kochi was on a day-train, with my uncle, my cousin sisters and brother-in-law, my sister and me. In short, it was a blast with a lot of laughing and a lot more of eating, including delicious Mangalore buns and local sweets. Full summer holiday nostalgia.

I love how so many things have changed – there is a DBS branch next to my favourite Naturals ice cream parlour, the reception in my apartment plays Lana Del Ray’s Summertime Sadness instead of instrumental Malayalam film songs, the Kochi Metro tracks cover the familiar skyline. Yet, of course, despite Singapore and Kochi being within 10 degrees north of the equator with the same hot humid weather, Kochi is home - with its pazhampuris and appams and Karl Marx wall art everywhere.

Everyone has their roots.

In my café hopping expedition I went to Heap Seng Leong (an old school kopi-tiam). My god, the rickety chairs and ceiling fans, the old fridge (older than me for sure), black and white photos, and a patient very old uncle who toasts the bread on charcoal and makes the extremely strong kopi himself. Even my cousin’s father in law, who eloquently recalled his childhood and youth in Madurai, with filter coffee and malligapoo idlis (as soft as jasmine flowers), sounding just like an RK Narayan character. There is a world of wisdom and stories within each person, and then there is world full of such people. You can spend a lifetime just listening, and maybe writing blog articles about it.

PS: Chinese fishing nets on the Kochi skyline