WINDS OF CHANGE – (Memoir series – Story 23)

Ring Out The Old, Ring In The New

We have to visit “Jos Brothers” today evening, Daddy says during breakfast.

I am in a hurry, gobbling up fistfuls of puttu (steamed flour of ground rice layered with coconut shavings) before I run to the Bus Stop to catch a Bus to school.

Usually, nothing in the world can convince me not to stay back in school for fun. But getting new clothes from Daddy’s favourite textile shop is exciting.

Granny walks in from the kitchen with more steaming hot puttu but I must run. I can easily have one more log of Granny’s tasty puttu and kadala curry (a spicy black chickpea curry). But there’s no time today for more.

If I don’t make it to the morning assembly on time, PT (Physical Training) Master – Xavier Sir is sure to make me stand outside. After yesterday, I don’t want to give him that pleasure almost immediately.

He enjoys enforcing rules in School. And I, unfortunately, am his prized target because he and Daddy were college buddies.

The best way to keep out of trouble is to keep out of his sight but unfortunately, his hawkish eyes can spot me from anywhere.

I make it to the assembly just in time. And stand pretending not to notice Xavier Sir’s smug look that says, “That was a narrow escape this time. I almost got you.”

Back home in the evening, I hurriedly get ready to go shopping. But convincing Granny to come along is a battle in itself. I want her by my side and manage to convince her to come.

All of us get new clothes, and I’m thrilled. Back home, I wonder when we can wear them.

Granny says, “These are for Daddy’s wedding.”

“Oh! When is that?”, I think.

Nobody has been talking about Daddy’s wedding, not even my cousins. I haven’t forgotten about it. But I don’t want those thoughts to come up. Maybe it would fade away on its own, like a bad dream.

But why do my nightmares keep coming back?

I am a bit worried at bedtime. Because on some mornings, I find my bed wet.

It doesn’t happen often, but the fear that it can happen haunts my thoughts.

I used to be the proud bedkeeper when Mummy was around. Now, I feel like a little kid again, struggling with something as basic as keeping the bed dry.

The day of Daddy’s wedding finally arrives.

We’re all in hustle-bustle mode. Daddy’s KLA 320 is washed and sparkling clean. He has arranged a driver for the car because Daddy’s getting the VIP treatment today. He will be taken to Church in his friend’s car.

The morning sun is barely up, and Daddy’s already giving the new driver a crash course on the car. But oh boy, the driver is struggling to get things right.

You see, this Standard 10 car is like the odd one out in the car world. Its gear lever is like a metal giraffe neck sticking out from the engine. To hit reverse, you must give it a little lift first. It’s like the car’s got its own secret handshake.

The driver says he’s driven every other car except the Standard 10.

Meanwhile, us cousins have this inside joke that Daddy’s car only listens to Daddy.

The clock is ticking. We have to reach the Church soon.

In the end, Daddy decides to take matters into his own hands. And he drives the car himself to the Church.

The wedding and reception are done, and now I have my new Mummy.

I realise she is a loving person with big expressive eyes and a caring attitude.

And just as I start feeling happy, I hear that Granny is leaving for Kottayam. She won’t be staying with us anymore. 

During the weekend, we get back from Kottayam after dropping Granny at her home. And the house feels different.

My new Mummy is a good person. So everything that my Mummy told me is coming true.

I look up at the wall, expecting to see Mummy’s picture next to Daddy’s, like always. But the beautifully framed picture is gone.

That picture of Mummy was a regular source of consolation for me whenever I wanted to see her face.

I must ask Daddy and find out who has removed it. 

Daddy returns from work in the evening. But for some reason, I can’t get myself to ask him.

After dinner when I lie down to sleep, I miss Granny’s presence. I miss our prayer time stories. I miss the scent of oil on her body.

How I wish Granny hadn’t gone away to Kottayam. I could have asked her about the missing photograph.

My heart feels heavy with so many questions. And I’m gradually realising that a lot more has changed than what I was told.

I lie with my eyes wide open, watching the fan swirl noisily above. And now I know what it feels like to be all on my own.

But I must not remain sad. Didn’t Mummy tell me to be a brave and obedient boy? 

After all, who needs a photograph when you have such vivid memories of the good times with Mummy?

And no one can take them away from me.