Current Mood: In need of Creambuns

Some how I seem to have fallen into this time warp that insists on taking me back to the days of yore, when Friends became Sisters and Brothers became Enemies. I never had the luxury of having mommy dear wait at home for my arrival to serve me warm food with warm love and other such fuzzy things. I held the key to my home with the same responsibility that Spider-man felt when a city was attacked by some Toxic-mutant-out-to-rape-your-womenfolk thing. It was my scimitar, my key to the city if you please.

So there I was a swarthy seven year old hauling my luggage up 3 floors to my humble hole in the wall. Now BDA doesn’t believe in privacy they believe in “You are your neighbors entertainment” theory. Hence everything had to go through the keen myopic eyes of my neighbor, Rosy Aunty.

Rosy Aunty was wed to George Uncle who made 2 kids, John Lorcin and Winny No middle Name. They were staunch Mellu Catholics who came from Kottayam or Trivandrum I can’t recall clearly. But I do remember with startling clarity their house (considering the fact that I spent more time there than in my own house).

It was no big shakes, the walls were always peeling off, the old Table always homed cockroaches and the only interior decorating that one could find there was the stains on the walls left behind by mosquitoes who wern't quick enough for us. The Mosquito Killing Championships began early May when the days got hot and sticky. These were the days when Honest Indian Women developed Honest Indian Sweatpatchs in their Honest Indian Blouses that covered their Honest Indian Armpits. These were the days when George Uncle used to unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt (which somehow was always sky blue). He never had much hair on his head, most of it might have revolted against the idea and decided to re-root themselves on his chest instead. He always had an oily grin for you at any given point of time. If it was time for Ganesh Bidis then you can expect a couple of songs from him. Invariably the songs used to be from the movie "Chemmein". My own rendition of the song can be dealt with in another post. But right now, time to concentrate on my Mellu roots.

It began there, my initiation into mellu-land. I was made to eat things that were only deep fried in coconut oil. I ate only beef (It wasn't a bad word in the mellu household). Chaiya was mandatory while Uncle George gave us a lecture on Comrade KNP Namoodaripillai.

Fridays were rosary days. I was master of the rosary in Malayalam (my own version of course) no one bothered to correct me. So till this day I say a very Strange Hail Mary in Malayalam.
Winnie taught me a few things, they are as follows:

1. When playing the role of the dying older sister if you don't stick your tongue out, it dosn't count that you are dead.
2. When asked to chose between your "bestest friend" and your brother, you bloody well chose your bestest friend.
3.No matter how hard you try you can never blow a hot water bag like a balloon.
4. Curd rice always goes well with beef. And most importantly
5. After doing number 2 you wash your hands with dettol.

Things George Uncle taught me:
1. Kaadilina kare poono re....
2. Ganesh bidis costs 3 rupees for a pack.
3. If you ever smoke, smoke only Ganesh bidis.
4. When you say "patti" always add a "thooo" before it.
5. "Ninda kundi" is a perfectly legitimate answer to any question.
6. By learning a certain Malayalam rhyme, you could turn out to be a "wife beating bastard".

These are the life lessons I learn and re-learn everyday. Perhaps the reason I run back to that twisted childhood so often these days, is because there is no one there to tell me... "Don't dream, come back to reality." Most of my childhood was spent in my head, And Winnie's house was the only reality I knew back then.