Thathayya is what I endearingly called my maternal grandfather. He was a man who followed his routine like a ritual. Every day, he woke up at the exact same time and followed his routine like clockwork.
Thathayya’s morning ritual
When the clock struck 7, he rose from his folding wicker cot, sat upright and rubbed his two palms together while muttering a prayer under his breath, and then placed them over his eyes. Back then I thought it was just a mature way of stretching and wishing you could go back to sleep, but turns out it has real benefits. There was a rhythm to everything he did. After his bath, he would always come out with two towels, one wrapped around his waist and the other that he used to dry out his hair and body. It truly amazed me- the way he weaved that towel around him with such flair to dry himself. To this day, I wonder how he had the patience to do it. If I could partially dry myself at an instant just by wrapping my towel around, that’s considered a win for me.
The perfectly white attire
He then wore the most perfectly ironed crisp white cotton shirt and paired it with the whitest of white dhoti. I don’t know how he got through the entire day without getting a single speck of dirt on it. It always looked perfectly white for a man who was always out and about. In his shirt pocket, he had a blue fountain pen with a golden cap. This pen was like the forbidden apple. It looked so tempting to the 7-year-old me, but being an obedient kid, I always admired it from afar. Though I was the youngest in the family, I was considered the model kid because I did everything as perfectly as it could be. Unfortunately, this trait fizzled out over time and gave me a strong urge to act out in the latter part of my childhood, but that is a story for another day.
Now, while I was still as perfect as could be, there was one time when I got in trouble with Thathayya.
Popeye and Thathayya’s wrath
In my childhood house, the concept of bedrooms didn’t exist. We had a bedroom, but no one really used it except for getting dressed. So the hall was our makeshift bedroom. Every night we would spread out floor mats and sleep together as one big family. Thathayya alone had the wicker cot folded out at one end of the hall. Next morning, it all goes into the shelf under the stairs and the hall will be back to its original state- with just a small box-sized television and three sets of sofa. One day, when he was having his afternoon nap, Doordarshan, the only channel on our television, was airing Popeye. My brother and I, forgetting that Thathayya was napping, hooted with happiness because it was one of those rare days where we didn’t miss the show. Thathayya wakes up, tells us to be silent and goes back to sleep. But we did it again. This time he wakes up, admonishes us once more and gets back to sleep. Unfortunately for us, we could only contain the excitement for so long.
With our next scream, up rose Thathayya. My brother flees the house and runs to the backyard as he is used to this, but perfect little me, not-so-much. I ran into the kitchen and hid stock-still behind my aunt, but it did very little when it came to facing his wrath. My favourite little red chair was broken in the process of trying to catch us. But, eventually, after a couple of minutes, he calmed down and apologised to me for scaring me. He gave me a small hug and told me to go play outside. I think this was the closest to physical affection that our little household could handle.
Evening strolls in the neighbourhood
Thathayya’s way of showing affection is taking us kids along for his evening walk through a couple of streets. He would introduce us along the way to all the neighbourhood uncles and aunties who greet him. In my town, at least 20 years ago, a small group of people would assemble at each other’s doorstep every evening to talk about the town happenings. This was their form of entertainment after a long, tiring day. Obviously, now it’s been replaced by everyone gobbling up information through WhatsApp messages. Thathayya took us through different streets for our daily walks. Our final stretch of the walk always involved going to the bazaar. As we walked through the bazaar, he would rummage through his wallet searching for 1₹ or 2₹ coins and get us Caramilk toffees. This was his way of showing that he loves us. These memories are very dear to me and this write up is just me trying to etch it before I lose it with time.