As is the case of many a malayalee family, my initial growing years were in Dubai. Sometimes I think of that place as a district within the state of Kerala. For all that we mallu’s have friends and family there.
India was a place we visited for two months every year; a place where my father and mother yearned to be but due to economic constraints had chosen not to stay in. Every year during school vacations we would land in my father’s house for a month and my mother’s house for another month. In each of these places my brother and I would be paraded amongst relatives who would collect around and ooh and aah on how much we have grown since the last time. Once the oohs and aahs would quiet down, then the game on ‘do you remember me?’ would start. My mother’s family was easier to satisfy as they stayed in the town and hence not too nearby so it wasn’t a daily parade and also they were less fertile, hence not too many cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. My dad’s family was another case altogether. His family stayed in the village so all of them had houses that were literally in each other’s pocket and each house had at least 7-8 children to boast of.
They were all nice people, however, every time I would start getting comfortable it would be time to return. So although they were my relatives I felt like a stranger amidst them; people whom I had to be on my best behavior with.
On the other hand in Dubai my father had this group of friends; all malayalee’s who would meet every Friday at one person’s house or the other. The gents would discuss their week at work, their dreams of the future and of course get tipsy. Their wife’s’ would all get together and gossip about how gold prices were going higher and how in the marriage market dowry demands were increasing. The children would be creating a racket and trying to break whatever valuables were available and within hand’s reach. There were about 10 families altogether and since we met every week we were quite familiar with each other. These were people who had seen me at my worst and I them.
Human nature rarely remains hidden after such extended exposure so I had the entire gamut, jealous aunts, comic uncles, generous ones, stingy ones, popular ones and the unpopular ones. I didn’t realize it then but as I grew up it felt more as if they were family than my actual relatives. When I got married, aside from my parents there were two uncle’s and their wife’s whose feet I touched for in my mind they were not lesser than a chacha/ cheriyachan or cheriyamma/ mausi.
One of the uncle’s in that group, a person whom I have deep regard for, passed away unexpectedly last week. He was 60 years and it was a heart attack. Hale and hearty one day and gone the next. I had met him a month back when he and his wife had come to give me some home made sweets and savories. A simple person who was always there in my childhood, someone whom I hadn’t had deep conversations with but nevertheless had always sought out for his soothing presence. I deeply mourn his death and pray for strength for his family.
Perhaps blood is thicker than water but i feel relations are deeper and richer for the emotional investment you have put into them.
