Last week we celebrated my
elder sister Mariamma’s 80th birthday. We call her Pengal. She normally stays at Chennai
but had come down to Cochin
for a function. The birthday luncheon party was just for the family, four
generations of it. It was a nice get together, but a sad one too in some ways.
In a short period Mariamma
had lost her husband Mathew Alapatt, an authority on gear technology, eldest
son Francis Alapatt who was a well known management teacher, her second
daughter Rosie who was an excellent painter, and son-in-law Chandy Mathew
Pallivathukkal, an industrialist and writer. Just six months back one of the brothers, George (Tharakan, formerly Air India's Regional Director, Middle East) too passed away. Thoughts of them must have ran
through the mind of this brave lady while the youngsters were having fun at the party. One could see tears
running down her cheeks occasionally.
I am two years younger to Pengal. Another brother present at the lunch, Joseph Tharakan is six years younger to her.
We were the elder group at the gathering, sharing several childhood memories
mainly about Olavipe (Kerala
Architecture: Nalukettu, ettukettu, pathinarukettu) and our mother’s house Konduparambil
(Kerala
Architecture: The house where I was born).
Childhood games and fights
and schemes and secret dreams are so touching to think of and discuss sometimes with
others who were involved. I suppose everyone has plenty of them. But our childhood belonged to another era. (Some
memories of WW II, Cochin and the 1940s.)
Life before the Second World
War was different. The first indication of the War for us children was that the
British made toys and dolls stopped coming. Chocolates and toffees and biscuits
too disappeared. Time was moved ahead by one hour. We had to get up earlier to
reach school on time but had extra one hour in the evening to play. Then the
War was over. Soon India
was independent. There were elections, and drastic changes in every field that
one had to and did acknowledge and accept.
We who were children grew
up, drifted apart, got married and live with our own nuclear families.
The same is true for our children as well. Occasionally the siblings meet at a function or an organised get together. We
are fortunate because there is a family meet too, every May. We also keep in
touch through phone calls and emails.
Life goes on like this till
one reaches an age when sometimes the image of one’s own garlanded photo
hanging on the wall flashes through the mind.
Well, that’s the way it is. Ignore that.. Be happy and positive.
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