Hello, Goodbye

The Ganapathi Agraharam in Kumbakonam is one of the most magical lands I have lived in. The perennial cycle of seasons took sister and me to Paati-Thatha’s house for our summer vacations. Cuddled fondly between two majestic mango trees and seated about a hundred metres from the Kaveri river, thatha’s house was a profound embodiment of warmth, love and hustle. The ringing of the 4’o clock bells at the Ganapathi temple was the signal for Rajam, Ranga and a bunch of other fellows to assemble by the ground adjoining the river. Although initial years saw us confronting older annas for cricket, kho-kho and kabaddi space, senescence meant that our days eventually arrived. A refreshing dip in the river, paati’s sumptuous dinner (that invariably had mangoes from thatha’s trees), and thatha’s bedtime story meticulously formed part of the routine. Regular trips to Bambai Chaat Bhai’s, with Rajam and Ranga initially, and with the vivacious M later formed an integral part of our summer visits to Kumbakonam.

I cannot remember Bhai’s real name, but Bhai, Bhai Annan and Paani Puri Annan were among the different names he was called by. His Paani Puris were the best ones in town, and the deluded tambrahm folk of the Agraharam believed that Anna’s Paani Puri had to be perfect since he hailed from Bombay. Bhai would use sauces of different colours to give the paani puri a different flavour. Ranga liked it with a tinge of sour, Rajam and I preferred it spicy, while Bhai would add excess of the sweet sauce for M. A prolonged battle of our hands and mouth ensued as we hit by ecstasy.

It has been five years since I last visited Kumbakonam. I would scarcely be exaggerating if I said it was Kumbakonam that showed me what passion is. The magic that it has been to me is something I reserve for another post. Quite ironically, it was Kumbakonam that also made me realise that passion was overrated. It eventually does, burn out. As Ross would put it, what you’re left with is trust, and security and a lot of other good stuff. Albeit in an entirely different context, the times of fun with the Dude-waale Krows, the times of bakchodi, the senti talks, confessions over text messages are things that account for the passion thing. The first time I was introduced to Dela as the biggest “kid” of third year, to Goraab as 9.7-cum-Branch Change-cum-Austria Anna, to Padhye during the Why do you think our hands are constantly plucking grass? question during the Kshitij final interviews, the shaggy chants of Soonkumt, Sue and Kaka outside Machine Drawing classes, messaging the Tigah himself on his birthday as you-know-who, my first DP, are among the numerous things that make up the “lots of other good stuff”. These things bring to memory Bhai Annan’s colourful variety of sauces and their varied tastes. A tinge of sweet from the ever-smiling faces, goofy antics and set-piece strings of words; a dash of sour, from the moments that won’t return; a wee bit of salty, perhaps from the warm teardrops that trickle down your cheek; and of course, a lot of spice as ever.

It looks like now that I said Hello to these people for the first time. Four days, some “I wish we hung out more”’s, awkward hugs and lame cool guy handshakes later, we part. To meet again.

Sayonara.

~ by Raghav on May 15, 2010.