I got out of my seat in the aircraft, picked up my bags and stood in the aisle. I could feel my mother’s anticipation of being back in her hometown charging the air around us. I could not help but smile myself.
When the warm and humid air hit my face as we made our way to the bus I knew I was in Trivandrum. Coming here has always been a yearly (if not bi-yearly) process for me, and barring the incessant heat and the and innumerous creepy crawlies, I absolutely love being in the capital of God’s Own Country. Unfortunately, in my 11th and 12th grade, I did not get the chance to travel to Kerala at all. It was the first time in the nineteen years of my life that I had done so.
The bus stopped. When we picked up our bags and headed towards the exit, I caught my aunt and uncle’s eyes. They were patiently waiting to pick us up. I abandoned my luggage and headed straight towards them. As I hugged them, I realised how long it had really been since I had been back in Kerala.
Our destination was not in the city, it lied a little beyond it. Surrounded by trees and vegetation as far as the eye could see, nestled away in a corner of Trivandrum, is the village that my mother was born and raised in. We passed by familiar rows of small shops, and waved at some of our relatives and friends we saw. Most of them had chandan smeared on their forehead and a small piece of a banana leaf in their hands. The leaf contained prasadam from the evening archana in the local temple.
As we drove further, I finally caught a glimpse of my grandparents’ home.
My grandparent’s home has been in the family for generations. While there have been a few renovations here and there, you can tell that it is very old. Yet, despite its age, it stands tall and majestic. Oh, and did I mention that it is located on top of a hill? It is unconventional, but very cool.
As we neared the house, I saw my grandparents standing in the veranda waiting to greet us. Their faces lit up when they spotted me. I laughed as my grandfather began to tease my mother and I for turning into city girls. My grandmother embraced me and assured me that she was going to make my favourite meals for the entire duration of my stay.
A familiar sense of ease and contentment settled deep inside of me. I realised that home is not just a place, it’s also the people in your lives and who you choose to surround yourself with. And amongst all the members of my maternal family, I felt right at home.
Over the next few days, we travelled to meet our extended family, making sure to buy enough jalebis and cakes for all of them prior to the date of our visitation. For it is blasphemous to visit your relatives empty-handed.
I spent some much-needed time with my cousins, and other uncles and aunts. Talking about various subjects with the adults and playing with the children reminded me that I was still in a stage of my life where I was not clearly seen as a kid or a grown-up. I found this very amusing.
Between the lazy days and days spent shopping, I learned how to ride a scooter. It was especially exciting given how if I were to ask my father if I could drive it in Bangalore, he would have looked at me and simply said, “over my dead body”. Watching my mother facepalm each time I swerved in the wrong direction gave me joy.
Sadly, the fun times in Kerala are slowly drawing to a close. When the multi-storied buildings in Bangalore will replace these Keralite trees, I know I will ache to be back in my grandparent’s home. To be on top of a hill, to eat delicious home cooked meals made with love!
But unfortunately one cannot escape reality. I will have to get back to the humdrum of my life in the garden city. There will always be phone calls and video chats that will keep me in contact with my family. But we all know that virtual interactions are no substitute for real ones.
While this is the unfortunate case, there is another thing that keeps me going: I will be back home soon again.
Edited by Kartika Puri (UG 2019)