Sunday, July 11, 2010

Chittappa, Superman and Baap Re Baap thatha

He was cool, stylish and evergreen. Always had a smile and somehow I felt that he had some special corner in his heart reserved for me. I think that is just the way he made many feel. With RayBan glasses, forever smartly dressed, a trait that is not necessarily identified with many in the Mangalam family, and more relatable to the my generation in many ways, that was chittappa.

I vaguely remember the times that we lived in the same house in St. John's road (Secunderabad). I do remember chittappa coming back from London. I distinctly remember coming back from Ethiopia and then finding out that they are moving to Baroda. I was distraught! I remember going to Madras for a wedding and opting to come back to Secunderabad instead of going on a 'Temple trip' with amma & appa because I was getting a chance to ride 1st Class with chittappa & chitti back. I thought he was incredibly cool. He could do no wrong. He was Superman. That is what I called him as he picked me up and swung me around when I was a kid.

A few years ago, on one of their visits to the US, Rushika got to meet and spend some time with chittappa. He was to her as he was to me. A lot of fun. And as most kids are, demanding of more after you give them a little, a tired chittappa would exclaim "Baap Re Baap!". Everytime since I have to refer to him in my conversations to Rushika, she would say, "You mean Baap re Baap thatha?".

I picked up Ravi's voicemail as soon as my plane landed in Seattle informing me that chittappa had passed just an hour ago. I choked briefly, feeling bad that I had missed the opportunity to see him, but something inside me told me that that may have meant another hour of suffering for him.

A couple of years ago when chittappa, krishna, kasturi and myself had driven down to the Godavari river to immerse appa's ashes and chittappa insisted on walking down to the banks and then climbing the stairs back up. You could see the effort he was putting in. It was evident in his loud gasps for air. But such was his love for his brother.

The warmth of this family and its sheer reach have absolutely amazed me. I don't think there are many other's like us, although I would hope there are. The world would certainly be a much better place if that were so. I cannot help but think that its moments such as this that remind us how important it is to keep these ties green and to pass on their strength to the next generation. The support and strength one gets from being with family in times like these are immeasurable and both appa & chittappa have embodied that spirit more than anyone else I know.

I am sure there is welcome party up in the Great Beyond among the Mangalams, not an eagerly awaited one, but timely nevertheless.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

A packet of gems and other memories

Life's ironies, I guess you can call them. Exactly a month ago I had written about Rangan Chittappa's and Vijaya Chitti's anniversary. Today I write in Chittappa's memory--it seems too soon to call this a "memory" but that is what happens from one second to the next; a person is a person and a tangible presence, then the person is a memory, still tangible in many ways, but not in most others.

We take our consolations where we get them, and that we must. Chittappa's last few weeks must have been happy. He enjoyed that anniversary party, he must have been very gratified to watch Hrishee's poonal, and then the lovely rolling landscape of Seattle with Ravi, Yamini and his grandchildren. He did not suffer and linger, and his loved ones (many of them) were around him. Those of us who are far away will miss the special sharing of memories and feelings that happens when families are together, but then we have to believe there will be other, happier occasions for those.

This evening when Achala and I walked into the house, she crumpled a packet of Cadbury's Gems and said, "Rangan Chittappa always bought us Gems," and there we smiled at the memory. We've been privileged, as a family, to have had among us so many elders who shared their warmth and affection across generations. How many children these days know their great uncles and aunts as closely as some in our family? Rangan Chittappa and Vijaya Chitti spent a lot of time with my kids, and I remember one summer when appa and amma were in the US they stayed with us for a couple of months, with Chittappa walking them to the bus stop, quizzing them about various things, and of course, giving them chocolate as a reward!

It's a little over two years since appa passed away, and he too was about the same age: 78. With Chittappa's passing, it seems that a part of our childhood is crumbling away, and being replaced by a wall of memories. But if many of those are like the packet of gems, then we can look back and smile, and even if there are tears, see enough happy pictures through them to bring the smiles back.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

and the years go by...

Today is my parents' 51st anniversary, and even with appa not here, it is still a day to celebrate, perhaps not with gifts and a party but with a smile and a look backwards in thanks. It's a normal day, which is for us, I suppose, a happy occasion in itself (considering that for so many people the normal day is fraught with so much challenge). Amma made kaju pakodas in the morning and we will attend a dance ballet in the evening, called "Peace on earth". The monsoon is making its hesitant entry into Hyderabad and holds promise of cooler weather in the days to come. Achala and Ananya are taking driving lessons and should soon hold licenses (in the American context, one would say, why this late?) and free me from chauffeuring. Upen is nearing the end of a productive summer vacation; he goes back to work next week. And I continue to be engaged in my various pursuits, juggling several jobs simultaneously and not able to make up mind which one to settle with! Some things never change. But others do, and we cannot but return periodically to that absence which is actually a continuous presence in our minds, if not in our lived lives. So, amma will have to have a double dose of wishes to make up for appa's absence this anniversary!

But last weekend was an exceptionally happy one. Rangan Chittappa and Vijaya Chitti had their 50th wedding anniversary, on June 5. They were in Mumbai having just got their US visa, waiting to leave for Hrishee's poonal. So Krishna and Kasturi organized a party for them that was supposed to be a surprise but as is the case in families like ours, the word got round in a circular fashion and ultimately reached them as well! The evening was a lot of fun, a sort of mini "Mangalams in Hyderabad 100"! All our relatives in Mumbai were there, and a couple (like me, Kumar Periappa and Periamma, and Uma, Meenakshi akka's daughter) who were visiting! Even if the event itself was not a surprise, the range of invitees I think was a pleasant one. Chittappa's close friend Narender was there, as were Chander, Vimala and Latha and their families, Ramu mama and Vasudha manni, and Sharada Periamma's family--Geetha/Shankar, Latha/Vasu and Sakku athai. There was of course plenty of reminiscing and laughter, as well as a bit of quiet nostalgia.

Not to speak of the food! A big dinner and three large chocolate cakes, to celebrate not one but three occasions--the anniversary, Supriya's birthday and Kumar Periappa's birthday (coming up in 3 days)!




Friday, April 30, 2010

The summer of 1973



Sometimes it seems like the year is full of days dedicated to memory. And this is not necessarily a sad thing, because memory is like a soft scent that can make you smile inwardly and take you back on a trip in some parallel realm of experience, where the past and present mingle. Since this space is in a sense one of memory, I thought I should share this realm of experience with those of you who might remember the moments in and around a photograph that comes back to me often. I found it this morning--a small black and white print. Somehow, in my mind, the colours were bright blue, green and orange, and I remember the colours of all the clothes we were wearing. These blurred images are just an echo of what I remember!

It was a time when the family was together (I was going to say "whole" but then, wholeness is always there, it's just that its contours change with time). On my mother's side, all of us cousins were together...except the very eldest, Mohan, who was in the US (the only one there at the time) and the two youngest, Ashok and Anitha, were not yet born. In the photograph, several of us are up on the spreading branches of this lovely gulmohur tree, in Cubbon Park, I think, with the littlest ones held up on the lowest branches and the girls in saris are gracefully draped alongside the trunk. Koushik did not deign to come with us on such a frivolous jaunt as a trip to the park (he was the intellectual, you see) and Anand and Paddu Chitti arrived a bit later, if I remember correctly. We were all in Bangalore for the housewarming of Payya mama's new home on Promenade Road. It was a summer filled with movies, with card games, and laughter, and the monkeyish antics of the younger cousins--Koushik and Jee sliding down the trunk of the mulberry tree from the first floor of the house on Osborne Road and giving Kanthiamma the jitters, Shyam playing Beatles' songs on his tape recorder, Rajee and Geetha trying hard to make peace, Jayashree crying at the drop of a hat, Ramesh and Shekhar quietly slitting the seat cover of Payya mama's motorbike, Sudha and me getting into our famous fights...

We've lost several of those who were with us that year, and other connections have become tenuous and irregular, but when I travel back to the time captured in that picture, I experience a familiar warmth and realise that the space where affection resides is undiminished, to be tapped into whenever opportunity presents itself in meetings, however far apart they may be.

So to those of you whom I do not tap on the virtual shoulder to say hello now and then, please remember that there is a space where I remember, and think of you, wonder how you are, or know that you are well, and smile at the memories we have shared.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Remembering

I'm having a book reading, my first ever, and I am thinking...if only appa were here. But I will be reading some poetry and here is one I just wrote, especially for him.

Remembering

Despite the many frowns
and reprimands
through stormy teenage years
what stays with me
is the smile
tht always reached your eyes
and sometimes began there,
as you watched me
and heard me
arguing with the earnestness of youth
putting my heart and soul
into imaginary revolutions.
You knew then
as you probably knew now
that the real battles
in mind and body
get fought and won
despite our best intentions
and most earnest arguments
not because of them.
It’s your smile
that stays with me
when I drive past
the short stretch
of pavement
where you took your last walk;
and it’s your smile
that walks with me
as I take my evening turns
on a terrace
that no longer hears
the uneven tread
of your blue-slippered feet.