In Vacant or in Pensive Mood

Three-year-old* me had a bed-wetting issue. She prayed specifically about it, almost every night before going to bed. The nights she prayed before going to sleep, she would wake up to a dry bed in the morning. She didn't think, even for a minute, that her nightly accidents may have stopped due to any other changes in her routine. Her mother made her go to the washroom every night before bed, but the difference between a wet bed and a dry bed in the morning depended on whether or not she remembered to pray. That's what she believed, anyway! Five-year-old* me would have nightmares of thieves breaking into her house and cutting off her arm when she attempted to fight them off and protect her parents. She prayed about it and the nightmares disappeared. If she forgot to pray, they sometimes returned. Without a question, she prayed again. Until the nightmares stopped, until she became a dreamer of good, beautiful and awe-inspiring dreams. Six-year-old* me wanted sunglasses; large one...

An overnight train journey from Chennai to Chengannur and a couple of long bus rides later, we would arrive at the bottom of the hillock on which my paternal grandparents lived. Even as a little child, I would know when we were close, thanks to the unmistakable scent emanating from the coconut oil factory in the vicinity. This, followed by a short, bumpy autorickshaw ride up through the hillock's narrow untarred roads (during which I'd imagine falling off the vehicle into the valley below), we would reach our destination. For another week or so, my parents and I would stay here, in a quiet house made with large stone bricks and unpolished walls. I'd wake up quite late in the mornings and watch from my window as my strong grandfather descended down the portion of the hill above the house, wearing a shirt covered in rubber stains, a lungi and Hawaii chappals (flip flops) - a bucket of pasty, white liquid in his hand. I would wave at him and then run out to brush my teeth outs...

It was a hot summer afternoon in the early 1990’s. A little girl, about five years old, was playing in her grandparents’ drawing room with her imaginary friends. As she sat playing, she heard the sound of a car stop at the front gate. A few seconds later, she was interrupted by a large beast that came charging into the room! It was black, with shades of grey around its face, and had a long pink tongue that was hanging out of its mouth. It pounced at her, and she fell to the ground in a mixture of shock and surprise. Then, quickly recovering, she got up and climbed up the on the couch, screaming and jumping in utter fear. Her screams brought both her grandparents running into the room with panicked faces. On seeing her jumping and running on the couch, trying to escape being bitten or scratched by the dreadful beast at her feet, her grandmother’s face softened. Her grandfather’s face, on the other hand, became stern. He let out a grunt, and then firmly ordered her to get off the couch...