RELIVING MY SUMMERS...

“Your attention please, Train number 22639, Chennai-Alleppey superfast express, has arrived on platform number six.” On hearing this announcement, we were hurrying towards platform six where the train stood, ready to start its 600 plus kilometre journey to Alappuzha, Kerala. The unreserved coaches were filling up fast with migrant workers and people of all ages. The chaiwallahs and the vendors who sold dinner dishes like chapatti, idli, dosa, Pongal and biriyani were restocking their stuff on the busy platform. On the far end of the train, men were loading postal couriers, letters and other products like fish, meat, vegetables into a separate coach. I remember the excitement seeing the majestic blue snake-like vehicle buzzing with activity with the Malayalam speaking crowd.

Walking along the platform, searching for the right coach and finding our names on the list is an adventure which goes underrated. Loading our heavy suitcases onto the train, pulling it along the narrow path, people staring at us newcomers and the fellow travellers who would always come barging our way with bigger bags and end up creating a traffic jam are now precious memories worth reminiscing.

Getting the window seat, fighting for the upper berth, exchanging berths in case any elderly people request us are some events that any Indian family would relate to. The mild sound and the chugging movement of the train are lullabies that manage to put us to sleep in spite of the excitement to reach our destination. The journey to my native, Palakkad, is a 12-hour journey and we were to reach the station at around 6.30 in the morning. The contrast between the arid, dry plains of Tamilnadu and the lush green fields of Kerala is quite surprising even though the two states are neighbours. The early morning sunrise, the mild misty air gushing against our faces from the open train doors, the faraway sound of the rooster announcing the daybreak, the farmers just starting out their day in the freshly planted paddy fields and to top it all, the smell of hot coffee emanating from the pantry are the scenes and feelings that any flight journey would never be able to give us.

For my family, the visit to our native place was mostly once a year event, breaking that tradition only for important occasions. The May month vacation visits were the best as we would stay for almost a month.

Our ancestral home is situated on a low hilly region. The place is a rich example of exotic flora and fauna with houses scattered between the forests. On entering our home, the first aroma that catches you off guard is of freshly cut ripe mangoes and jackfruits which immediately draws you to the dining table. The Dining table, now that’s a place worth describing. On the window sill beside the table is the makeshift tray to hold a zillion pickle bottles. The pickle variety ranges from citron to ‘Ganapathi’ lemon (it is named so as it is large and round, resembling lord Ganapathi's tummy) and from tender mangoes to irumban puli (bilimbi, a type of juicy tamarind fruit).

All these fruits and vegetables are grown in our backyard garden, actually, better described as a forest. The ‘forest’ behind our house is a huge place where coconut, palm, banyan, cashew, teak, areca palm, mango, tamarind, jackfruit, pineapple, pepper, beetle nut, different types of tulsi, henna, jasmine, hibiscus, lilies, chrysanthemums and many many more kinds of trees, shrubs, creepers and herbs find their homes. The place has natural background music playing 24x7 consisting of the chirping sounds of birds and insects.

In the centre of our ‘forest’ is our ancestral well, covered in mosses and fern, and gives that eerie look at nights. The water from this well is the sweetest and most refreshing water that I have ever had in my life.

One of my most cherished childhood memories is sitting beside my grandma out in the courtyard where she fries the banana chips in hot sizzling coconut oil on top of the earthen stove where the fire burns by feeding on the dry coconut leaves and coconut shells.

There is nothing in this world that is better than those homemade snacks made by grandma. During pooram ( Hindu temple festival dedicated to goddess Durga ), the bejewelled elephant troops would go past our street to the nearby temple, which is located just beside the holy Thootha river. Visits to the temples with our favourite cousins make the vacation worth remembering.

In the early days, our evenings would be spent outside playing cricket, police-thief, hide and seek, lock and key and other games. Nowadays, my cousins and I spend our time exploring the ‘forest’ and chatting with our grandparents. Nights consist of antakshari, board games and word games involving the whole family.

In the blink of an eye, it would be time to say goodbye, not only to our grandparents (who wave to us with teary eyes) but also to all the beautiful places that I visited. The thing to reassure me would be those wonderful memories that will live in my mind till posterity.

Packing our bags, driving to the railway station and getting in the train was a different feeling compared to the one experienced a month ago. On the moving train, we would eat our dinner carefully packed in roasted plantain leaf by my grandma, for one last time in that year. We would land back in ‘Namma Chennai’ the next morning for a new academic year filled with new hopes and adventures. The person who left from the Chennai Central wouldn’t be the same person when he or she lands back. They would be holding a million memories within to cherish forever, until next time....!