Anniversary 33

























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The Death of Memory

“ People have two deaths, the first at the end of their lives. The second, at the end of the memory of their lives.” Raghu Karnad, ' Farthest Field' A chance remark by my grand daughter sparked off this trilogy.  Here's part I. For my defense, I say only this : "Just write the truth! But truths are many, and that is the problem. Memory is treacherous, as distinct from history as emotion." Cohen, Roger,  'The Girl from Human Street.'  “Naani”, asked my five year old granddaughter, in all her worldly wisdom, “Where are my Great Grandparents?  Do you think they love me?” As I prepared to answer her inquisitive queries, my mind wandered, to my Great Grandparents! Who indeed were they! What a profound chord her innocent words had touched! What did I know of my  great grandfather, who had lived and died before I came into this world! Kachapeshwar Iyer was my great grandfather's name. Eshwar for short. I know for sure. My grandfather carried his name i...
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The Homecoming

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No river can return to its source, yet all rivers must have a beginning. Native American Proverb. On 9th August, 2024, I set out, for the first time in 65 years, on a pilgrimage to my ancestral village of Kalpathi in the Palakkad district of Kerala. I did not travel alone. My daughter, who accompanied me, was excited to be on a 'journey of discovery, to solve a 100 year old mystery' and chose to be Hastings to my Poirot. My husband, who valued the visit to one's native place, also travelled with me. Years ago, we had been on a similar pilgrimage to his native village of Kandamangalam, in the Tanjore district of Tamil Nadu.  But why was I undertaking this journey?  What was propelling me? What was driving me? I tried to question myself and understand my need to visit a place my ancestors had left decades ago.  My paternal grandfather had left Kalpathi in 1917 and had arrived in Jamshedpur in Bihar, where he took up service in The Tata Iron & Steel Company. Li...
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The Note Unsent.

The 31st of December 2024. I got down to the happy task of posting new year messages to friends and family. It was around 10 pm, and I had just got started. My school group, the most active for reasons mentioned below, soon flashed an urgent message. Our classmate, Rupa Dasgupta, retired scientist, intrepid traveler, a literature enthusiast, and a dear friend, had breathed her last.    She had been unwell a couple of months, flitting in and out of hospital, fighting and struggling against all odds, only to lose the battle, untimely for us, but a great relief for her.   It took a while to read and register the ultimate truth. Then the shock and sadness set in. What was there to celebrate in the new year! The messages remained unsent. The night passed in thought...even the merriment and crackers ushering in the new year seemed jaded. The new dawn finally helped me see reason. I called dear friends who had remained in constant touch and conveyed to the group the medical upda...
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