The only terrible part of summer that I can recall are the pages of holiday homework that I was saddled with. You see, I started off in the next class in March/April. So, our teachers gave us homework that would be assessed when we got back from our vacations. Sadists the whole lot of them!! We used to travel by train, so we carried cardboard boxes filled with the books that I would need to complete the work.
My sithi (maternal aunt), who was loved by all the little people, lived close by. (She is still our darling, darling aunt) She used to save up all her magazines, just so I could use it for my homework. I would cut out pages and pages of pictures. All the cousins would be roped in, ofcourse. Most of the cutting was just an exercise in wasting time, which we had a lot off. I recall that the whole lot would help me finish the day's quota of homework, just so we could get back to our game on the terrace. Yes. My mother's strict rules - one page of homework per day will get me the pass to play.
The last of the cousins - twins - were born one summer. When we got the phone call at home, we were all amazed. Twins!! We had twins as cousins!! Following summers, we would get up early, wash up and be ready in time to take them to their bus stops. Ten of us at the bus stop, to wave goodbye to the twins. And, we would beg my aunt to drive us to their school so we could pick them up. Surprisingly, they are remarkably unspoilt, inspite of all this attention.
So every summer, the gala event would be their birthday celebration. This huge crowd of relatives that would descend every summer was enough to make any party come alive. My aunt never had to invite anyone else. We would have, what we considered then to be fancy party food. The menu would include pulao, raita, appalams (papads), puri, chole and a variety of north indian dishes. Of course, curd rice, pickle and fried salted chilies. Payasam (kheer). Hot Gulab Jamuns. All in all, it used to be a royal feast. We would help decorate the terrace with balloons and crepe paper. Then bring it all down in the middle of the celebration. I don't think anybody minded it, atleast to our knowledge.
My uncle had his own accounting practice. He had rented the adjoining portion of the house and had set up his office there. The office was included within the boundaries of our play area. The head accountant, I think that's who he was, was an old brahmin, with his hair shaved on top in the front and a 'kudumi' (knot of hair). He would come to work in a spotless veshti (dhoti) and a white khadi shirt. He did not take kindly to our antics. One of us was often cornered in his room and subjected to one of his lectures on how we would never amount to anything if we continued jumping on office chairs and using office stationery to scribble nonsense. We took it all in stride. I am amazed now, that my aunt or uncle never complained inspite of all the ruckus we created. I like to think, they genuinely liked having us around.
My aunt's house was also the place we would run off to at lunch or snack time if what was served at my grandpa's was unsatisfactory. Podolanga or bottle gourd was definitely unsatisfactory. Another dish was 'uppuma kozhakatai', which to this day I cannot eat. It was our chance to have fancy fare at my aunt's.
Evenings we would often go out. Now, that was an exercise in logistics - transporting this whole army. My grandpa had a very trusted driver for his white Ambassador car. He was old and loved working for my grandfather. Our issue with him was that he would never drive beyond 'tortoise' speed. And also he was extremely partial. He would not let any of us touch the car, except for one of my cousins. Only that one cousin was deemed capable enough to touch the steering wheel and also put flowers to the small idol in the car. The rest of us were persona non grata. If we even so much as passed by the car, he would shout at us to stay clear and not get fingerprints on the body or the glass. Every morning when reporting for duty, he would take an aluminum bucket kept for him and fill it with water. He would spend an hour cleaning the car with a rag. The end result was a spotless shiny car. This driver would be easily disturbed if we made noise inside the car, or if we crumpled the towels he had tucked into the seats. I really think, he dreaded summers. It was with some sorrow when I learned that he had died of cancer. He used to visit us in the summer, even after he retired due to failing eyesight.
So the Ambassador would transport us to the park or to a restaurant or wherever it was that we would go in the evening with my uncles. We would enjoy just an evening out to a large playground in the city, where there was really nothing much to do except run around and then eat 'kilimooku maanga' (a type of hard mango). The mangoes would be slit and liberally applied with salt and chili powder mix. We would each get a mango. We used to go to the zoo, as well. On one of my recent visits, I happened to go back there. As an adult, I can say that it is a sorry excuse for a zoo. But, I do not ever recall having those thoughts as a kid running from one smelly cage to the next. Another summer tradition was the trip to Ooty. My grandfather would hire a couple of cars and the whole convoy would make the trip upto the hill station. We would pack a whole lot of food, to be eaten at the Botanical Gardens. It was very comforting as a child to do the same things every summer. The mothers refused to accompany us after a few years.
My aunts and my mother used to take us along with them for shopping. Not often enough, thankfully. I remember one such trip with one of my aunts. We had told those at home that we would be back to eat dinner. But then we had not realised that we would be shopping near that new fast food restaurant that had opened up. So we stuffed ourselves with yummy snacks like bread chole (which was a real novelty for us) and pav bhaaji. We had to devise a story to tell the people at home. We decided that we would just say that we were not hungry and quietly go off to sleep. When we got back home, one of my younger cousins fell apart even before any questioning could start, and she said that she was starving and that we had not eaten anything. So all of us had to eat a full dinner because of her. To this day, we tease her about this incident.
Sleeping arrangements were a lot of fun. We did not have enough beds but we had sheets and pillows for all. There was one spare bed in the house. Whoever got to sleep on that, could sleep late. The rest of us on the floor had to wake up to the insistent sound of the servant maid asking us to get up and clear the area. "Endri, Endri" ("Get up. Get up") She would start by gently shouting at us. The 'jamakalams' - thick cotton rugs - would be folded away and pillows piled up neatly in one corner of a bedroom. Those sleeping in the hall, could stay up late and watch TV with my uncle. Only the older cousins were that lucky.
Summer days were very short. They were spent playing everywhere. One of our favorites was hide and seek. We had a large space to play in and as single family houses are built, we had a lot of space to run outside the house. We would play on the terrace. The terrace was floored with a red clay tile. It always made our feet red. We used to play Chain, Follow the Leader, Tipi-Tipi-Tap and a number of other made-up group games. I am not sure if Tipi-Tipi-Tap was a game that other kids played, but we always enjoyed playing it. On rainy days, we would play indoor games like Blindman's Bluff and Treasure Hunt. We could keep ourselves occupied for hours. Maybe we had cultivated this habit as a necessary survival skill. If we were not occupied amongst ourselves, our mothers might decide to give us some mundane task.
My grand mother would have a 'bakshana mami' - a lady to cook special savories - come over around the end of summer. She would spend a couple of days in the house making all sorts of delicacies including muruku, thattai, adhirsam and lots more goodies. These would be packed so it could then be transported by her children to their houses. This would be a reminder of our wonderful summer with all the relatives.
All the cousins are grown up now - many married with kids. It is always fun to revisit these memories. It is worth hours of talk every time we gather around. Those, most definitely, were happy happy days.
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