Walking down memory lane in Aarani
I was all of six when my maternal thatha (grandfather) left the realms of this world. But in this very short span he had so endeared himself to me that certain memories associated with him and Aarani, the town where he was a practising doctor, remain etched so vividly, decades later. This kindles in me an overwhelming urge to revisit Aarani, the place of my birth which I had last visited as a six-year-old.
In the predawn hour one Sunday, my desire takes flight and my husband JR and I are on our way to Aarani, a mere 140 km from Chennai, or less than 3 hours away. As we enter the town I hear the familiar rhapsody of the morning rituals of brooms swishing in courtyards crackling against heaps of dried leaves and other sundries. Stoves – from the humble kerosene and wood-fuelled ones to the modern gas stoves – hiss in a range of decibels under pots and pans. Televisions broadcasts blare with Kollywood numbers. As my eyes rove the surrounds, visions from bygone years tattooed eternally fresh in the deepest alcoves of my cerebrum, spring to life before me. It is my Proustian moment as a rush of recollections swell up like waves and I dive into this treasure trove and takeoff on a nostalgic trip down memory lane.
Images of thatha, a stocky figure of pink-rose complexion who could well pass for a European, and I, walking to the town centre, unfold before me. I look for the towering statue of Mahatma Gandhi in his characteristic Dandi March pose that dominated this market place.
My eyes scour the alleys, looking to identify the house that was once a holiday haunt. It's home that I still hold dear. But of which I only recollect a kitchen with a sizeable clay pot in a corner, and the open square courtyard from which steps would lead to the terrace. It was here, under a star-studded sky that I would be lulled to sleep by a gentle breeze that carried the mildly sweet fragrance of the yellow cascabela thevetia, or kaneir as the bell-shaped flower is known in Hindi.
I fail to identify the street on which grandfather's house was located. Perhaps, it's no longer there! I remember all too clearly, charging down the street behind mattu vandis or bullock carts from which loudspeakers would announce film releases. Dimmed, but firm scars on both knees from multiple falls, bear testimony to this regular exercise I would carry out with gusto. The objects of my fancy were the colourful leaflets detailing movie names and cast that would be distributed from these carts. Further, I would remain spellbound by the cinematic treat of the bioscope accompanied by music that street entertainers would wheel around on cycle carts. These are all conspicuous by their absence. As my mind races like a runaway train, it is undeniably palpable that the winds of change have blown swift and sharp, heralding sweeping changes to this one-time small town. It is no longer the Aarani of my childhood - calm and uncluttered.
Also missing, is the roundabout as I recall it, with the majestic statue of the Mahatma. There are yet a couple of his sculptures at two points in the town, but neither as I reminisce. I look around for bakeries to see if I can get some 'animal' biscuits as I still call them - biscuits cut to animal shapes, stored in glass jars and sold by weight. It's obvious these have gone into oblivion. But I'm ecstatic to catch sight of goli soda, the fizzy drink that would have me mesmerized as a kid, least of all for its contents. The Codd-neck bottles which have the glass marble or goli for a cork unlike other bottled drinks, then held my fancy. How the marbles allowed for the flow of the drink without ever falling out of them, was then an enigma to me. With the passing years I unravelled this 'mystery' and also learned that the bottle was designed and patented in 1872 by a certain Hiram Codd, a soft drink maker from Camberwell, London. Now, both, the bottles and their contents appear in their new avatar with several flavours.
The evocative power of smells, sounds and sights stir memories hitherto stored subconsciously in the recesses of my heart. I force my way through streets choked with vehicles of all shapes and sizes, amidst the clamour of horns, creaking carts carrying loads well beyond their capacity. I stop every now and then, to soak in the timelessness of the moment, willing myself to see the town of Aarani as I remember it, as a six-year old. How I would enjoy the afternoon jaunts with my pati (grandmother) on the horse cart to buy puffed rice, groundnuts and roasted gram, from which ingredients she would dish up a healthy snack. And then there would be those occasional trips to the talkies, reached by crossing a railway gate, to watch films of the trio of then-leading heroes, Sivaji, Gemini and MGR. I recall nothing of the films themselves, except some evergreen melodies from Pasa Malar and Nenjil Oru Aalayam, besides bingeing on goodies and goli soda.
Vellaiamma, the medium-built, all-purpose maid with a smiling and kindly disposition, would be our bodyguard on these outings. My mind conjures up images of Velliamma with the enormous vermilion kumkum on her forehead, and hair bunched into a neat bun that literally still reminds of the baked stuff. I wonder if she is still around somewhere, unsteady of gait, hobbling around with a walking stick. I am elated when a middle-aged gentleman who we meet in a restaurant appears familiar with my thatha's name. I am hopeful he would lead us to grandpa's home. Alas, he has only heard of thatha's name and skills as a doctor who had served in Europe during the Second World War, having been mentioned by his late parents.
Sated and disappointed in equal measure at having revisited the place, memories of which I would always cherish, I move on, on an explorative journey of Aarani and its environs. The town which lies on the banks of the Kamandala Naaga river in Tiruvannamalai district of Tamil Nadu, is famed for its rice as much as for its silk. There are various theories associated with the origins of the name Aarani. According to some, it gets its name from araneeyam, meaning, a place surrounded by a forest. Yet others claims that the plethora of Aar or fig trees that once grew in the region has given Aarani its name. The most popular theory, however, revolves around Aarani having obtained its name from Aaru meaning 'river', from the Kamandala Naga river flowing through it.
The pages of history accord much significance to the humble taluk and town which was ruled by the Cholas, Pallavas, Vijayanagara kings, Marathas and the Nawabs of Arcot before it fell to the British. In fact, the Arcot Nawabs established their military training camp in the town which also witnessed an active Congress movement spearheaded by M.V.Subramania Sastriar and others. None less than Mahatma Gandhi is believed to have visited the taluk twice to attend political meetings in 1932 and 1934.
We visit over two days several ancients temples in and around Aarani. These include the very powerful and wish-fulfilling Kamakur Kamakshi Temple, Erikuppam Sanishwara Yantra Temple, the only one of its kind and second only to Shani Shignapur in Maharashtra - temples dedicated exclusively to Shani Bhagwan, Varadaraja Perumal Koil, and the much-sought after Putrakameshwara Temple where king Dasaratha is supposed to have performed the yajna to beget children. In testimony to this, is an sculpted figure of the emperor under a tree, sandwiched between the temple and the pond overlooking it.
As we wind our Aarani travel, it is evident that though the trappings of modernity are everywhere about it, the town yet retains its pastoral flavour. Had thatha been around he would be approaching 120 years, and perhaps stayed on in Aarani. It would have continued to be my favourite haunt, purely because of the warmth thatha exuded, a feeling I would bask in and always hold close to my heart. Some people don't ever depart; they leave indelible imprints and continue to journey with you. He is perhaps, looking at all of this, his family, from somewhere above, around...
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