So I came back home after two months in Mysore. And as always I visited my grandmother. However, first i went to the lake. And by 'Lake' I mean Ashtamudi Lake and more specifically, the piece of this lake which is near my grandfather's house. He passed away recently and I haven't been there since. Here the lake sweeps into the land in such a way that a small circular portion of it lies touching the road leading to the house.Its pretty shallow and calm in this area. Anyway, as I walking towards the house from the opposite shore, my head was filled with images. Random scenes started flashing through my mind. I used to stay here every year during my summer vacations for the annual feast of St.George which is held at our church. The gates were locked with a chain. I grabbed the bars of the old iron gate and stared into the compound through the bars. There I saw the house standing silent. Even the trees seemed to be in mourning. Dead leaves littered all over the ground. Only weeds seem to thrive here. Somehow I felt that the place was emanating sadness and despair. They say that home is where your heart is. If that's the case then a part of my heart lies here and I see myself justified if I call this my home.
I remembered my grandpa. They say that a man's worth is measured by the number of people who attend his funeral. He was a great man. And i say this not because of the multitude that was present for his funeral. I'll call him great because he fits the definition of greatness. A man can achieve only so much in a lifetime. My thoughts ran back in time to the days i spent there with Joe n' Ryan, Isabel, Ria and Annie and Anne. Isabel, Joe and the others were the late comers, they always showed up in the middle of the vacation.We used to get together for the summer vacations and did whatever kids used to do for vacations. We played and fought. We tried to do a bit fishing but soon learned that its not as easy as you see in the movies and comics. We ate mangoes, lots of it. Jack-fruit was another common item. I was the oldest among the group so I used to go for long walks to the north of our house along the lakeside. Skipping stones was another pastime. It was like a ritual that was to be performed twice a day , in the morning and in the evening, without fail. It was because they were staying outside Kerala. We used to go for early morning walks with grandpa. Along the way he would stop and talk with everyone and they all had time for him. As a kid I was always amazed how he knew so much people. Years later on a sad October morning I knew the answer to that. Its not that he knew them all, it was the other way around. They all knew him.
Slowly but surely the sun was going down. The watch is over. There's only melancholy here..The next day I went to Tanagasseri Beach and the breakwaters. My favourite spot in the whole world. Just sat and stared at the sea. You'll never know how time flies. The sound of the waves breaking on the rocks have a rather hypnotic effect on you. There are people fishing here. Some are here for the view, others for exercise and I for the memories. I sat and saw the sun go down. After a minute or two the skies were painted in brilliant pink and in the dying hours of the day, I captured this on my camera. It's time to leave. My short vacation is almost over. Mysore and my work beckons...
Till we meet again...
(Originally written on March 2014)
