It was yet another busy day and I felt too tired to even climb on the mattress and sleep. That’s when I remembered that I’m yet to take a bath. No matter how tired I’m, I won’t be able to sleep without taking a shower. And I dragged my sleepy self to the bathroom, half sleepy, dead tired and half irritated for God knows what. But the moment I stepped into my bathroom the aroma hit me. Suddenly all my sleep was gone and I was alert like a watchdog. I know this smell. I love this smell. I whispered to myself as I looked around to find the source of the smell. It was a plain green soap sitting in the corner. My daughter had placed it when she took bath as a replacement for the previous blue pears soap that had literally disappeared due to extensive use, peek-a-boo games and what not!
As the warm water started to gush from the shower drowning me in droplets of a warm embrace, I found myself staring at that dark green soap with memories flooding my head as an even more aggressive downpour. I knew what that soap was! Chandrika soap! Suddenly I remembered my grandfather- we used to call him daddy as our parents called him daddy( obviously because he was their father). But, don’t ask me why all of us grandchildren ( 11 cousins) also called him daddy. Maybe we were just too lazy to find a new name and simply copied our parents.
So, our daddy used to stock these Chandrika soaps in a shelf neatly stacked in rows and rows, much more than what you would find in any supermarket or store. I don’t really have an idea as to why he stocked up the soaps so dedicatedly over all these years. Maybe he just wanted to be sure that he always has his soap nearby even if it goes out of stock in all the shops nearby. So, whenever we stepped into the house and walked towards his room, we were always greeted by the unmistakable aroma of Chandrika soap. I’m pretty sure all of us 11 cousins can recognise that smell even while dead asleep because that is how familiar we are with that aroma. Not a day passes by without whiffing that smell, so much so that, when I return back home after the summer holidays I used to wonder out loud why the air smells differently over here.
And, our daddy’s crazy collection was not limited to Chandrika soaps alone. He also had a huge collection of candles that will make all those fancy candle sellers out there hang their heads in shame. You want a small candle? You got it! Bigger one? yes here it is! Want a slightly thicker one? No worries at all! He had stocked up candles of all shapes and sizes all inside that shelf of his. So, whenever there was a power cut, we knew where to go. And, this memory is so etched in my mind that even now when I light a candle ( which has become so rare nowadays as generators and inverters have taken up the place of candles and lanterns), I remember him and even see his smiling face as the flames flicker in hues of yellow, orange and crimson.
Every summer vacation, all of us plan in advance. Internet and mobile phones didn’t even exist in our wildest dreams. So all plans were done through hand written letters sent to each other through the good old post boxes painted in bold red. And, the planning was always done to the T. From the colour of the frock you need to pack to the matching bangles you need to choose- Again, no photos to help. We used all our linguistic skills to explain each thread work on the frock to the golden streaks on our bangles. After n number of letters exchanged throughout 4, 5 months, me and my cousin sister Susan will come to a conclusion on which frock to bring and which bangle to pack carefully covered up in newspapers ( bangles should not break!!)
When we reached our maternal home for our summer vacation stay, we were a notorious gang of cousins all set to burn the house done, much to the horror of our grandparents. Our younger cousins were not a part of the plan as they were too little to participate or contribute much ( Delphine, Lisa, Joemon, and Jeffin- you guys were too little to be recruited- under age!!). Dundappan, and Kichu – you both were not even born!! ). So what was left was Sarin, Susan, Me- of course , Arun and Kiran. And, we 5 – our atrocities were too famous that the neighbours would slowly peek through the windows and call out to our Mummy ( Again, that is our grandmother whom we called Mummy- same old story as calling our grandfather Daddy) “piller vannu alle?” ( The kids came, right?). We stayed awake all night shouting our lungs out ( we had considered that as a musical night though our neighbours didn’t quite agree to it) We would jump to nearby plots and steal mangoes. We would push down the haystacks and run away. We would try every single way possible to create problems for Daddy and Mummy. But, they always remained calm and composed even when we were such a naughty bunch. We would draw all across the walls of the house and pour water over each other’s heads. We would steal anything and everything poor Mummy keeps aside to make a dish or snack and the list goes on!
The biggest challenge our grandparents had to tackle was always our hunger. And, we were ALWAYS hungry- 24/7. We would keep chanting, Mummy, give us snacks, give us food, we are hungry. Those 2 poor souls had to scamper around and cook nonstop to feed us 5. One of the tastiest memories would be Mummy’s chicken curry. Her chicken curry was always special. All the chicken pieces would be small, small pieces. You would never find large chunks of meat in her curry. All were tiny pieces which we kids could gobble up easily. She would also serve us dal- not those watery dal curries you commonly see. Her dal curry was always perfectly cooked and mashed dal which was not watery at all. It was a soft yet dry fry version of hers. A ladle of dal and a dollop of warm ghee was all you need to finish off a plate of hot, boiled rice. And, no, I don’t have a picture of that dal and rice to post here as those days we never took photos. Instead, we were making and preserving memories in our hearts.
Snack times were always a long list given to daddy with equal doses of warnings about the after effects he will have to face in case we don’t get the snacks we want. We would always ask him to buy us roast cashews and as the number of orders for cashews increased, daddy realised this is going to make a huge hole in his pocket. So he found an alternative- biscuits shaped like cashews! It was not sweet like the usual biscuits. Instead, it was salty and spicy like the usual roast cashews. But, we soon found out the difference between both and roasted poor daddy left and right. But, today maybe I would have been more happy to get that cashew shaped biscuits from daddy than a packet of imported roast cashews. With time, we realise the real value of things maybe.
Every month, we would wait for casatta ice creams on the day Mummy got her monthly pension. That was the only one day when we saw ice cream in another colour other than the plain white vanilla ice creams. The rainbow coloured casatta ice cream always made our jaws drop in excitement as we devoured even the last bit from our ice cream pack.
Years have passed and we are no longer school kids waiting for our summer vacations. Daddy and mummy left us last year leaving countless memories, touching our lives in many ways than one. Now, today as I yet again finish my chores in a hurry and rush to tuck in my kids to sleep, all I can wish for is a summer vacation yet again with you both. Though this time, I promise we all will be the good kids who will obey everything you both say. But, I guess you both loved us in our naughtier selves itself!
