Inside the firepit

Chechi would occasionally swing by on her scooter. It is nice to see her getting about on her own, but her trips are limited to Kayamkulam. She has duties at home, which includes baby-sitting her mil, who cannot be left on her own past 5pm. Why this job has fallen upon her (or why it even exists) is anyone’s guess, but she hasn’t reached the stage of questioning it, and though there is a whiff of gentle rebellion in the air, I don’t know if she will ever get to that stage.

I think women (Indian women), upon marriage, often make terrible, inequitable trades in relationships, mostly because they assume they are inferior or less worthy in the overall setup of a household or because it is drilled into their heads that they are inevitably dependent on men to survive in the world. People, including women, often don’t have great ambitions. And why should they? Most people just want to belong, feel loved and exist within the familiar microcosm of one’s family/relatives/village/town. And so, they comply with the spoken and unspoken rules and norms that govern the microcosm. But usually these norms don’t favor women, until perhaps, one’s old age, when you can lord over the young. But will this be the case in my sister's old age? I don't know.

The nephew just completed his 12^th standard and has appeared for the engineering entrance exams, as if going through a rite of passage. He is, in all likelihood, going to join the college where both his parents once used to teach. I find it a bit disheartening, both his future path and his own lack of curiosity and interest in breaking away or at least exploring the world beyond Kayamkulam. But, it’s best to accept people for what they are (at least when they have no influence on one’s own life). So, for now, he is an awkward 18-year-old, who I suspect is devoid of introspection. A budding young man with a scrappy moustache, who is happy to work out at the local gym and build a good frame and some muscle. An obliging teen whose grandfather forced him to go for computer (MS Office) classes which he rolled his eyes at initially, but took to upon realizing that attending classes does not always mean taking tests.

The only other nephew (cousin’s son) who is still in Kerala, is now in his 10^th standard. I couldn’t visit him in TVM this time, and it would have been pointless because my cousin (his mum) is on his case about studies! studies! studies! Last time I visited him, he showed me his pet rabbits and I was thoroughly entertained by the many comic books he had written and illustrated. I look forward to meeting him in three years’ time, once he is past the entrance exam fever.

The niece (chechi’s daughter) is talkative as ever, and has started communicating in English. Chech had to go through many PTA meetings to make this happen, for previously, while the niece could read in English, she didn’t comprehend a word of what she was reading. Eventually, she found one teacher who actually listened to her concern and took it upon herself to change things. Otherwise, she is a normal kid, who is a glutton for candy and can finish a bag of Twix overnight.

My main entertainment in Kayamkulam was, nonetheless, the dogs. Scottie, the black lab, loves nothing more than (food and) being petted. He has two spots around the house where he likes to settle himself—in front of the verandah and on the landing by the backstairs. He sometimes picks up a fallen mango or if cunning enough, snatches one of our chappals and hurls it around in an attempt to engage me. Inji, I didn’t play with at all, he is blind in one eye and growls from time to time. But naturally, he is also in need of love and affection, so I ventured to pet him on a few chosen occasions, when he seemed amenable. One day, while Amma was bathing him, we saw that his left ear had swollen up. We took him to a vet, who conveniently lives right across the street. The young woman, with her hair highlighted in brown, informed us that he broke a blood vessel in his ear from constant scratching (mosquitoes hound both the dogs, I asked Amma if we couldn’t put mosquito nets around their cages, but this was dismissed saying that it would limit air circulation, which is patently false). So, the vet and her assistant held him steady, drew out the blood and gave some meds to heal his ear.

One evening, I went next door to hang out with my cousin. He is on an unforgiving schedule—he leaves home to catch the train for Kochi at 5 every morning and gets back in at 9 every night. His wife (who works as an insurance agent) and kids are in TVM. He has a tough gig, but he seems happy to be by his parents who are older and weaker; in general, he is happier existing in Kayamkulam. Not staying in Kochi also means he can save on rent and get his children into good schools. At night, when it is time to close the gates, he goes over and chitchats with Acha. “I like talking to Vallicha, I always get something useful from him,” he told me. I am glad there is someone to give Acha company and make him feel appreciated. I am glad my aging parents, uncle and aunt have chech and this cousin nearby. Getting older is rough in so many ways.