It's not often that inlaws have more than a "politely cordial" relationship. Subhashini Subrahmanian has this to say about her "sambandhi"--
I don't know how to write about him. There were so many good qualities about him to write. The name of the house, "Ayodhya" is perfect for the house. His name Raman also suits not only the person, but symbolises all the qualities which Lord Rama had, which he too had. Soft spoken, always smiling, ready to help anyone--known or unknown. On festival days or any special days the sweets and vada which we prepare in the house, he insisted, should be given first to the watchman and the servants, and unless this was given he would not eat.
He loved music, cricket and playing chess on the computer. I would go along with him and Lakshmi to all the music concerts. If we had any doubt about identifying the raga, he used to tell us immediately. He had a music diary in which he wrote down the name of the song and the ragam. Sometimes I used to feel tired to go to a concert and he used to say, "Come for as long as you can sit and listen to the music. When you are tired we can come back." After returning if I said "Thank you", he would say, with a big smile, "Thanks for the company!" He wanted others to enjoy everything he did.
Whenever he came upstairs (we live in one house, on two floors) to eat with us, after the meal he used to say "Thank you" which I refused to accept. Immediately he changed this to "No thank you", said with a smile.
When I travelled to Chennai by train, which was quite often, he wrote down the time table for me from Secunderabad to Chennai and the return journey, by both the Chennai Express and Charminar Express--I still keep that sheet of paper with me in my travel handbag, encased in clear plastic, to check the progress of the train and the stations on the way!
He used to ask the children--his granddaughters Achala and Ananya--to translate English words to Tamil and the other way round, and this was often quite comical (elimichcham pazham became rat remainder fruit!) and made them laugh.
I can go on writing--these are just a few of those memories. We will all miss him.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Two weeks later
Two weeks have passed
and I wonder...
how long will it be before the rocking chair by the window is un-shadowed by the outline
of his white dhoti and kurta,
a newspaper in his hands, while other pages lie
scattered on the floor, within easy reach?
how long before the uneven flagstones in the portico
stop echoing the equally uneven step
of his refused-to-be-stopped arthritic feet
that accompanied the watering pipe
in the garden?
how long before the telephone and doorbell
stop being answered by the memory of a welcoming 'coming'
no matter who stands there?
Like Carroll's Cat
the smile hangs over the house
partnering the twinkle in the eye
on the slightly-tilted head
as if to say
I'm here, I'm here.
Feelings never go anywhere
Nor do memories.
As long as they live
so do people.
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