Building Memory Palaces in the air
There are still evenings or mornings that I get up with the thought that I am in India and it’s a beautiful sunny Madras day outside. And then I sit up a little shocked with a sudden gulp of realization of when and where I am. It is as if my mind recedes back to a time and place that was familiar, comforting and warm. It’s the minds refuge from reality whenever it’s a little confused, insecure and worried. And quite understandably these journeys are to blissfully ignorant phases in life. I have quite a few of these places that I let my mind recede to in my own amateur memory palace building venture. I thought I would put down maybe five of the most oft visited places in my mindscape just to make it a little less abstract.
Gandhigram, kalathu mettu, arasa maram, utchi kudumi…
This mad prattle combination of words always evokes such sadness over lost innocence and the purity/rawness of childhood. These childhood haunts are imprinted so deeply in many layers of the mind and that it can recall in such clarity the texture of the sand and the smell of neem flowers fresh on the ground. The thousand leaves of the arasa maram (Peepal tree) that rustle in a thousand whispers in the gentlest of breezes. The lone utchikudumi (ponytail on top) tree that we kids used to always guess at being the oldest or strongest tree on the very top of the Sirumalai. And what a view we had of the mountain right from the balcony of my grandparents while we played, cried and laughed our childhood away…
Trichy heat,kaveri karrai,swimming lessons,summer mangoes,all the kovils…
What a city of memories Trichy was/is? With all those temples and the Rockfort standing as everlasting testimony of the rich history of this unassuming town…I remember all those mysterious small temple ruins that whizz past the car window on those drives along the kaveri karrai…That peculiar smell which seems like a combination of rot and something else ethereal that pervades all those temple corridors and garbagrahams…Those endless stretches of green paddy fields, the manga and thennai maram thoppus, catching fish by the banks with a towel, mottai madi nila choru with athai, the days of teenage angst with a combination of homesickness and loneliness, oh the growing pains of adolescence…
Ammakka veedu, oonjal, pavala malli and shenbagam poo, mottai madi, kolams, diwali…
It’s funny how sometimes a person’s presence is so profound that sometimes the house instead of housing the person gets housed by the person (if that makes any sense).My grandma had such an effect on the Venkatarathinam road house we used to live in. The house which saw so many people come and leave. The house of 13 bathrooms and innumerable shelves/cupboards whose concrete shelves were a measure of my increase in height year after year. The house which was surrounded by all those trees (Himalayan magnolia, temple flower tree, the golden shower tree, sapota, jackfruit, bitter orange, mango, coconut and gooseberry). The house with the thinnai portion with the wash stone, ammi kal and aatu kal, and the well that was perennially dry. The house of all those day dreaming on the parambu oonjal , kaka kaathufying the vadams on the balcony and picking flowers for the temple. This is one stop on my mindscape which will be always be a fountain of memories, each time I visit I learn, remember and cherish something new.
Tonakela camp, the swimming pool, camp toilets, camp food, new year celebration, inter-six competitions
From a timid and anxious child to an arrogant and stubborn teenager to a self doubting and insecure collegiate I have grown with the Cauvery Guides group. The classes on Sunday were just like an extension of school. But the camps and treks were something else…they were a source of so much joy and excruciating pain. The joy that came along with all the excitement, expectations and new adventures. And the pain with all the bullying, constant bickering and cruelty of very insecure and attention seeking girls. The most visited and vivid camp in my memory is Tonakela. What a name? To me the name brings with it the smell of camp cooking – the signature upma and sambar, watered down cocoa or tea with biscuits, and the ever celebrated “New Year eve” dinner pulav, raitha and applam; the swimming pool that reminded me of moss lined water tanks in my village with its color, taste and smell; the flag post which told you how lonely a leader is and so is the Guide chosen to hoist and take down the flag every day; “Taps” that we sang every evening to signify that “Day is done, gone the sun”; the ever smelling toilets and the wonderful job of cleaning them if you happen to be a senior Guide on the last day of camp; and finally the MOST important part of New year camps –the inter-six (team of six) competitions. Man what big deal was made of this has to be seen to be believed. And of course the “grand finale” New Year eve camp-fire, with all the dancing, music blaring from the speakers, Anna’s doing their “scary” dance, Venkat anna singing, mimicry and the comedy dramas. To think that every new year eve as a child and teenager I spent in a New Year Camp and that every city, hill station and tourist destination outside Madras that I have visited is with and because of the Guides group. I am sure that my memories of childhood would have been much less colorful without the Guides Group in them…
Mottai maadi, red tiles, kutti balcony, coconut fronds, the moon from the balcony
The balcony at the stairway landing with red tiles that stained the soles of my feet, the moon peeking from behind the clouds, the coconut fronds gently moving in the moisture laden breeze, the sounds of Amma cooking from downstairs. All these add up to a simply normal/perfect evening when I was a collegiate in Chennai. The wooden folding chair that used to bear both my weight and those heavy chemical engineering books every evening as I struggled to make sense of it all. The creaky exercise cycle that I used to work out on with music blaring in my ears. The constant sense of searching for something more…don’t know what for or why, but something that promised greater peace and a sense of purpose in life.
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