Early this morning, feeling too warm, as I sleepily pushed away the blanket, I realized that the summer had arrived. The day time temperatures have been crossing the 30 degree mark and the Bangalorean in me has started protesting. To counter the depression that the summer heat brings in me, I started to think about all the good things summer had to offer in the past.
Most of the summers until I finished college were spent traveling. I remember we used to pack our bags as soon as the holidays set in and go to our grandparents’ place. My grandparents used to live with my aunt and since she worked in a bank, they changed location every few years. I have vivid memories of these places.
In Chitradurga, their house was near a temple. There was a huge tree in front of their house. During the day, it looked like the tree had large floppy leaves. In the night, these floppy leaves would turn into bats and create such a racket that would keep one awake all night. The house that my grandparents stayed had a quaint wooden staircase which would lead to an attic room. Sleeping there and listening to the bats move around in the moonlit nights must have brought many a shiver. But, my sister and I were adventurous souls then and quite enjoyed these nights.
The most exciting part of traveling to Dharmavaram was the journey itself. We used to leave early in the morning by train and reach by noon. The train used to have a steam engine and our faces and hair used to be speckled with bits of coal. The Comics and the continuous ‘spread’ that we got on the train in the form of ‘totapuri’ mango, bhel puri, masala vada and other snacks just made it perfect. Dharmavaram, being the lesser known sister of Kanjeevaram, we always came back with silk paavadai. At one time, am pretty sure my sister and I had a collection that could compete with Rekha’s Kanjeevaram collection!
The places changed, but a major part of our holidays were always at our grandparents’ house. And, invariably, we had to visit all the relatives around. The open drains, the unhygienic toilets, the sweltering heat, the endless swarm of mosquitoes and flies, traveling by those red buses… I had lots to complain about. But somehow we always ended up having a good time. My sister and I learnt to read Telugu, so that we could kill time during these holidays. And all the mindless masala entertainers we watched for less than 10 bucks. My sister would stand in the ladies queue, push and shove and procure the tickets. As for me, I disliked crowds and would stand afar with abject disapproval on my face. ‘Goli’ Soda and some greasy snack would complete the experience for my sister. The city girl that I was, I wouldn’t touch any of those (some things never change).
Other than these holidays, we as a family have traveled over most of South India. No matter what the mode of transport, I had to get the window seat. My argument was flawless – I deserved it. Luxurious, these trips were not (which was my constant complaint – by now, am sure you know that I grumpy grouchy child – one more pain that my parents had to deal with in addition to other travel woes), but, in hindsight, perhaps, this is where I caught the travel bug.
To talk about summer and not talk about the king of fruits is stupidity. Mangoes dominated our summers. We used to have them almost every day at my grandparents’ house. And when we used to visit our uncles and aunts in Hyderabad, it was a different experience altogether. Almost every house had a mango tree. So, we used to climb and pluck the mangoes ourselves. And if it is the mango season, just like the ‘avarekalu’ season in Bangalore, there, every dish had some form of mango in it. So, it was mango puree with chapattis, raw mango in the dal and the chutney and the best of all, the yummy “avakkai” pickle. Sigh, just writing this is making me want mangoes. Even now, my uncle sends at least a carton of mangoes every summer. When I am at home, a plate of sliced mangoes appears next to me at regular intervals. Love my parents for that! My sister, unlike me, hates slicing her mango or sharing her mango. It has to be eaten whole and in a messy way.
Not to forget the ‘totapuri’ mango, a staple during summer days. Bangalore summers are incomplete without the April showers. Walking down MG road (of course, in my memory, the road is much less crowded) after one of these drizzles eating the mango bhel is something which I love doing.
With the fan whirring above me, as I wipe the imaginary sweat that has formed on my brow, I look forward to the new summer tradition that has been set for the past few years. As we used to spend the holidays with our grandparents, my angels spend their holidays with their grandparents every summer. And that is something that my parents and I look forward to eagerly. My mother begins her preparations as early as winter, buying toys, knick knacks and other things for them. My sister and I share a special bond. The petty fights, the nightlong discussions, the gossip, the home improvement schemes, the travel – there are so many things that make her visits special. And what can I say about my angels – their endless prattle, exuberance and antics just make each day magical. All the chaos that they create evokes an inexplicable sense of peace in me. Oh, to be a child again…
Time to welcome the season and celebrate all the wonderful traditions that the summer brings with it.
