Weekend in Jaipur

Those who follow this blog do not need to be told who the young lady is, in the photo taken by her mother Uma. Saranya, needing a change from her school in New Delhi, took her kid brother Gautam and parents to Jaipur for a weekend.


There is much to be seen from your hotel room. This skyline is that of feudal Jaipur. And street below gives one the impression that the place is a buzzle of rickshaws.

There is only so much of the sights you can take from the window. Saranya found a convenient niche in the wardrobe cupboard when she felt like getting away from it all.
Gautam is more of a people person, an attention-seeker. In fact, he hates to be left alone. But then he isn't so matured as his sister.

A date with Sita periamma

During our weekend Bangalore trip Lakshmi was pleased to have been able to meet her Sita periamma, the lone surviving family member from her mother's side. She was meaning to do it whenever we visited Bangalore, but couldn't bring herself to making the necessary effort - such as getting periamma's address, and going that extra mile to locate it. But all this is not much of a hassle, if you have the will will to make it there. This time, with sisters - Baby (Gowri) and Chitra - to give company, the three sisters were determined to visit periamma.

And it turned out to be a visit of fulfillment, a nostalgic journey. Sita periamma is 94; and elder sister of their mother Meenakshi. For Lakshmi and sisters, Sita periamma represented a living embodiment of their own mother, who died at a relatively young age of 60.

The sisters had the satisfaction of getting a 'feel' of their own mother when they held hand with Sita Periamma. And Sita periamma went on a flash-back recounting her life with Meenakshi at their ancestral home in Chamarajanagar. It was a meeting filled with emotion and the four ladies emerged from their interaction with moist eyes. Visiting periamma was Chitra's idea; her sisters wouldn't have made it , hadn't Chitra pressed her case for visiting periamma.
As Chitra said, it wasn't often that she got a chance to visit Bangalore; and she wished to make the most of it. Their periamma, all excited at their visit, squatted on the mat like gossipy young girls getting into a huddle to trade memories. Chitra, I believe, recalled the rava-upma Sita periamma had prepared for them while on a family visit to periamma's place in Nanjangud.

Periamma, overcome with fond memories of Nanjangud, expressed her wish to return there, to spend her last days. Even it were possible, little did periamma realise that Nanjangud today wouldn't, couldn't possibly, be the place she knew, the town she was so fond of, and had left decades ago. But then wishes, however unrealisable, and memories of days long gone by are about the only things that seemed to keep her going. Like most folks of her age, periamma's lament was that she was destined to outlive her husband so long, only to witness the death of two of her seven sons.

What's more, her eyes welled up talking about another son, who, though living, was as good as 'lost'to her. He hasn't bothered to keep in touch for well over a decade now, but his mother still pines for him. How unjust can be the balance of relationship between mother and son ? Though he doesn't care a damn , Sita periamma can't help enquiring about his welfare with every visiting relative. Chitra tried to console the 94-year-old, by telling her periamma not to keep worrying about those who have no thought for her.

Periamma lives with Dorai, her elder son, and has done so since she moved out of Nanjangud after periappa's death. Though she has option to stay with her three other surviving sons, Sita periamma has opted Dorai. And Dorai takes care of his mother with devotion, despite his own failing health and modest means. He is magnanimous enough to acknowledge the support he gets from brothers.

"Krishnan and Raju phone us every week; and Srikantu (who lives in city) comes here now and then," said Dorai. He let it be known that the Peenya flat in which they lived was a gift from Krishnan who lives in Pheonix, Arizona, with wife and two sons . another brother Raju, who split his time between India and his son/married daughter in the US, was now in India and spent a few weeks with his mother at Peenya till recently. Dorai spoke with affection and care about his brothers' sons , as if they were his own. He looked forward to their visits to India, and shared parental concerns about their career advancement , and finding suitable match for them.

Krishnan's son (Sanjay), said Dorai with pride, was chosen by his university in the US to spend a couple of months in Chennai this summer. Brother Raju's son, Ashwin, was doing well with SAP in California, and had become eligible for marriage. So was Dorai's other nephew Bhaskar, in Bangalore. Dorai shared his mother's concern for finding a suitable match for Bhaskar, who has lost his father Gundu. Periamma asked Subbu(that is how he calls Lakshmi) and her sisters to be on the look out for suitable brides for her eligible grand-sons.

And then, like most elderly women with NRI sons, Sita periamma gave vent to her desire to have them back in India, to live with her. She didn't seem to appreciate, much less understand, their constraints and domestic compulsions of having to live abroad. It doesn't occur to periamma that her sons, who are young no longer, have families as well to take care of, and sons/daughter of their own settled abroad. How reasonable would it be for them to expect their own family abroad to give up their all for returning to India, because grandma expected them to do so ?

Saranya plays queen

Uma's daughter Saranya got to play queen at a school play. And her grandparents couldn't watch. The play, performed on the annual day of Cambridge school, Noida, was open to invitees only. And the school managemnt restricted guests to parents only.
Saranya may well play queen at her school, but it is her kid brother Gautham who has the run of the place at home.
Gautham, says my wife, looks like his sister Saranya.
Can you make out any look-alikeness of the kids from these pictures? I couldn't.

Uma's wedding anniversary

Feb.11 was the wedding anniversary (was it the eighth,Uma?) of my niece in New Delhi. And I held over this post hoping to find a picture taken at her wedding in Coimbatore. I couldn't get hold of the picture I was looking for. Maybe Uma could mail it to the blog. According to an unconfirmed report,Uma and Rajesh celebrated their weddding day by going out to dinner and film-show. They watched Ghazni.

In our search for photos we discovered some I took during pre--wedding rituals at Pollachi. I share them here with you.
Sambu chitti initiated the Pollachi rituals with the blessings of Uma's grand-parents.

An oil-bath is part of the ritual.
The bride flanked by chitti, mami and cousin Kalpana.

Tenth Day at Balamama's

Sunday marked the end of ritual mourning following the death of Balamama. Of course one can't put a time-limit on mourning by his daughters - Jayanti, Suganthi, Manju and Shanthi. We met three of them during our condolance visit to Balamama's Jaffarkhanpet residence in Chennai. They broke into tears, frequently, as Shanthi and Manju shared with me and my wife memories of their father.

In refreshing contrast their widowed mother Rajam managed to keep her cool, and she even reminisced about her husband's special affection for me, his eldest nephew.As Rajam mami put it,mama used to refer to me, with pride, as 'London Murthy' in conversations with his neighbourhood friends. Balamama had a way of embellishing even mundane incidents into adventure stories. He made a big deal of me having been the first in the Pollachi clan to have gone abroad (in 1964).

As it happened, two of his daughters, now in Pune,have been long-time residents abroad, Manju in Sacramanto, California, and Shanti in Singapore. And Balamama had occasion to go abroad to visit Shanti. Manju's regret was that her father didn't make it to her place in the US during their 12-year stay there.

Rajamami recalled that mama,in recent years, had been cheerful, spending time with his daughter's dauthter's son. At 80 Balamama became childlike; and cheerfully submitted to the whims and fancies of his great-grandson. He had gone to school when we visited Jafferkhanpet. But Sneha was there, having bunked her school in Pune to be in Chennai.
Sneha - mama's daughter Shanti's daughter - is visitor-friendly.Even though it was our first meeting Sneha reacted to me as though we were long-time pals. Not all children find me particularly appealing. That Sneha took to me instantly speaks for her friendly nature.As I fumbled with my camera to copy a photo of Balamama his grand-daughter Sneha wanted to look into the image on view-finder to see if my focus was right. Satisfied with my work she allowed me to take a picture of hers.
Sneha wanted me to take a picture of her father, Dorai Chandrasekaran. A software professional and senior manager with EDS, Chandrasekaran struck me a homely person, for whom family mattered more than most other priorities in life. He and his wife chose to come back to Pune, after their ten-year professional stint in Singapore, so as to remain close to their ageing parents.

See earlier post - Balamama's no more

A quick Mysore trip

On a business trip from the US to his TCS office in Chennai/Bangalore our son Ravi made an overnight visit to Mysore, to share with us the latest photo of Nikhil and Sidharth.I know, this isn't reason enough for his trip, in an era when you can send online images in a jiffy.But then does he need a reason to visit us, however brief the trip?Ravi wanted to look up his patti, whom he hadn't met for over two years. And she was equally pleased to see her grandson; even 'tipped' him when he sought her blessings. In his childhood it was customary for Ravi and other children in our family circle to prostrate before elders in anticipation of a cash reward. For his patti Ravi still remains a child who has to be rewarded when he offers his namaskarram.
Out of an 18-hour stay in Mysore,he got a much-needed sleep for nine hours;spent an hour or so on his computer and work-related calls, and nearly two hours on social visits.
Ravi couldn't spare more than six hours for the family.And his patti felt flattered that her grandson had made it a point to visit her even in the midst of his tight schedule. She wanted him to bring Meera and the kids along, the next time.Ravi told her they were planning a visit in July.
I took this photo, speciallly for my car-crazy grandson. Sidharth hasn't seen a Dolphin; which has been long out of production.Our grandson was unconvinced when I told we once owned a Dolphin. "No,there is no such car," he said,"dolphin is an animal". And I did not have a picture to refute him. Incidentally, the car in the photo belongs to our family doctor Rajashekarappa.
So do we, Nikhil and Sidharth. This photo, and also the one on top , were taken by a professional at mall. The photographer belonging to a studio in Pleasonton Mall happened to watch Sidharth and Nikhil running around in the play area of the mall; and decided they made ideal models.

Cheenu's periamma

Our post on super-seniors evoked touching comments from Kalyanam's cousin in New Delhi. T Srinivasan(Cheenu) wrote, "thanks for posting Periappa Balanna's photo ...and indeed of periamma". Cheenu said the first thing he did waking up in the mornings was offer payers to his periamma, who meant for him "more than my own mother". Referring to Cheenu's attachment for periamma, her son Kalyanam observed that his cousin grew up in "our house in Erode".
The smaller photo ( inset) was his mother's latest, said Kalyanam, adding that it was taken in Delhi during her visit to Cheenu's place. Cheenu, who runs a software company in New Delhi had worked his way up from a humble beginning, like most of us. Presumably, he owes his success in life to the upbringing he had in Periamma's home and her blessings.

Another New Delhi resident who has commented on the super-seniors post is Uma, who has fond recollection of her mama Kalyanam. "(He) still looks quite good", she says. I tend to agree. Kalyanam, who retains his slimless and an athletic build, with his mushtaches and scholarly baldness, looks a retired army colonel, rather than a former railway official.

As evident from the photo, he is a ladies' man. Uma recalls Kalyanam mama as someone who "used to talk with us kids very nicely and in such a friendly way". The last time they met, presumably decades ago, was when Uma fell sick (food poisoning ?) at a relative's wedding in Bombay; and it was Kalyanam who carried young Uma to the hospital.