I was reading the blog of my cousin sister, Shilpa. Could not help but remember our good ol granny. Its been some time since she left us. Miss her a lot. Does seem strange. She was one of a kind and I don’t think I will ever forget the stories she used to tell us. When Shilpa was young she used to join me. But later she grew up and the kid that i still was, i was huddling to granny for her stories.

She fed us well and was a brilliant cook. She could make the best sweets and south Indian delicacies. I don’t think any one could make it so well. When I was in 3rd grade I remember, she was making ‘mysore paak’ and I was playing in the kitchen like the buffoon I am. She was mixing the sweet in the ‘vaandli’ (large cooking vessel) and some of the hot mysore paak fell on my hand and burnt it right through. I was howling in pain. But after having a taste of the sweet she had made with all the love, the pain just vanished and I was off with my destructive ways with a bandage around my arm.

She loved food and especially loved chocolates. Dad used to get a lot of chocolates from the states when ever he went there. This one time, he went berserk buying M&Ms. If it weren’t for granny (paati, we used to call her in Tamil) we would have never finished those 100 odd large packs. How, why dad was let go at the airport with such a huge ‘consignment’ of M&Ms, still bewilders me!

Now about the chicken story. All the times I was in Madras (now Chennai), we stayed mostly at Cuz’s place. My attai (buaa in Hindi, and aunt in English) made some really nice chicken. But well, my granny was a 100% vegetarian and did not know we relished this sweet little bird (read: chicken) on our plates. but we had to make it at home nonetheless. so what did we do? simple. take granny for long walks with the pretext of listening to stories while we were walking around half the city. We had to give enough time for the chicken to marinate and cook well. so by the time we were back, the chicken curries, kebabs and kheema (minced meat) would have cooked and shifted to the top floor or the terrace for our eating pleasure.

man, did we pig out on those. the leg piece was always mine since I had the say in those life and death issues. Maybe because I was also the youngest chicken eating cousin in the family. I am sure I taught them a lot! Vikki (brother), Saumya (elder cousin), Shilpa (younger cousin) and me, all of us would huddle around in a corner and finish it off to the last bit of gravy. We might have even licked plates, but I don’t remember doing that. Oh wait! the party does not get over so early; we had to wash the plates as well. Since we had it so often, we could take turns doing that. I used to get away cheaply because I was too short to reach the kitchen sink. (LOL! Don’t say anything now guys! You should be forgiving and loving to your cute little cousin!) So there! A clean party and no one was hurt.

Some years down the line when we grew up, she did let us know that she knew what we were upto all the while. But she was a sport and took it pretty well. Oh, those times!

I was there to perform the last rites of paati after she passed away on the Diwali eve of 2004. It was a touchy moment. I did not cry for a long time and was sticking on and giving support to the people around. But finally when my dad and brother broke down, so did I. I don’t cry too often but this was one of those times.

Hi paati, where ever you are!