MEMORIES...!!!

Mem-o-ry

[mem-uh-ree]

--n.,

The mental capacity or faculty of retaining and reviving facts, events, impressions, etc., or of recalling or recognizing previous experiences. 

Wikepedia: In Psychology, memory is the ability of an organism to store, retain, and recall information and experiences.

 I never saw my own grandmother. Paati filled that void!   

A certain fragrance reminds you of a past lover... A taste takes you back to your childhood... A song brings back memories of happier days with a distant friend... Memories... 

Memories don't need spell check... they don't need grammar... They are magical. They stir so much within you… Sometimes they make you sad, sometimes laugh, sometimes cry and sometimes, just helpless... And helpless is how I felt the other evening when I walked into 18, Tata Colony, my best friend, Niranjan's house. The house that I lived in a lot and enjoyed in my 20s, but most importantly, the house that was synonymous with Paati, Niranjan's grandmother.

I remember meeting Paati for the first time in 1992... She was sitting in the bedroom on the bed, upright and curious. The nearly 70-year-old matriarch of the family had a regal air about her. Her nose and chin high up in the air, she walked straight, in her crisp nine-yard sari. And her first question to Niranjan (which was also always her first concern), "Will he be staying over for dinner?" And sure I did. I still remember what I ate... Tomato Rasam, Rice, Beans Poriyal with Paati's famous tomato chutney! I still remember the piquant aroma of her Rasam even today! That night I overate! Paati kept serving and Niranjan said, "She's not bothered about your stomach. She's concerned in finishing the food and emptying the dishes."  She argued with Niranjan, who refused to eat the beans. Niranjan hated beans and still does! I continued silently savoring every morsel of the simple, yet delicious meal!

I don't think Paati thought much of me when she met me the first time. But over the years, I would like to believe that she grew fond of me. One could never tell, because that is the Seshadri trademark. From Paati, right down to her youngest daughter (She had 5 daughters), Kunjuchitthi (A trait you'll find in Niranjan too!), you could never decipher what they were thinking or feeling. But I do remember discussing food with Paati. I would ask her for recipes of her chutney… Curry Leaf Chutney, Orange Peel Chutney, Tomato Chutney, Gongurra Chutney and so many more… Her Molaga Podi, Sambar, Rasam or any dish she cooked (she made so many kinds!) had that typical Andhra fire.

I’ll never forget the first time I cooked in her kitchen with Anuradha (whom we fondly know as Radhu), Paati was not very comfortable. Sitting on the bed, she kept a hawk’s eye on what was going on in there. Eventually, Radhu had to shut the door for us to cook in peace. It didn’t stop her. She came into the kitchen to look what we were cooking. She put her nose to smell one of the dishes I was cooking, and just said matter of factly, “Salt is less in this.” I tasted it and was zapped! How could she tell by just smelling the dish? It’s an art I’ve learned over the years. Experience teaches you everything.

Paati was also not easy to please.  Whenever she ate a dish cooked by me (Yeah, eventually she became comfortable with me in her kitchen!), if she liked the dish, she’d say, “Bahut achcha hain (It’s very good).” That’s all. But if she didn’t like anything, there would be a barrage of criticism! The first time I saw her all dressed up was for a film preview. She wore a crisp nine-yard sari, her gold bangles and necklace and her slippers that she kept only for occasions. She sat with regally, back upright and watched the film. She was quite the critic too. Straightforward (another Seshadri trademark!) to the point of being blunt, that’s how Paati was.

I remember the afternoons I’d come home early from work. From a distance I would see her sitting by the window, keeping a sharp watch on who’s coming or going. If she were in the kitchen and heard the sound of a cab, she’d come running to the window and crane her neck to see who has arrived. Those afternoons, if she were sleeping, she’d wake up, and ask me if I had lunch. If I hadn’t she would quickly serve me hot food. Like me, she never liked cold food. Immediately, after the first morsel, she’d ask, “Kaisa hain (How is it)?” I realized she was fond of me because I loved eating, and she, feeding.

Between morsels I’d listen to all the colony gossip. I would go to my book or computer; she’d watch her Telugu songs. I heard a lot about those actors and movies from her too. I never saw my own grandmother. Paati filled that void. It was exactly how I imagined I would have spent my afternoons with my grandmother, had she been alive. As I write this I am transported to those afternoons spent with Paati.

I could write reams about this one woman whom I greatly admired and loved… Not a single day goes by when I don’t remember her. Little things remind me of her… And that’s what I love about memories… 

P.S: Paati's recipe to follow soon!