My Grandfather’s House

It seems so long time ago, but I remember my Grandfather for some of his quirks and ideas. Although a very strict man, he used to make sure, the two of us cousins had two swings ready when we came for summer vacations. It hung from that huge mango tree that stood to the right side of the front door of the house near the well.

Yes, that house has a well, it still has, I wonder whether they use it any more. There are so many memories associated with that house and around that well, the pond to the left side of the front door, the guava trees beside that pond, the number of doors the two of us had to close when we wanted to play dark room in one of those middle rooms…  not that I have stayed there for long, but the fact that the little time I’ve spent there, I’ve made such lovely memories, I can go on .. and on..

This house is my maternal home.. My mother’s home before she moved in with my dad after their wedding. The house we went to during vacations.. the house which was surrounded by coconut farms and rice fields. The back gate of the house which leads to a small path through the fields and straight to the Lake.

It has happened many a time that people do not know my connection to the field at such close quarters as I am bred in the city. Those days when our Grandfather used to take us around with him during his visits and show us crops and tell us about it. There are some hilarious conversations that happen around me because of this ignorance.

I still remember those times when our Grandfather showed us these bushes, asked us not to touch the thorny edges.. but feel the pineapples carefully. Oh! they looked so cute in between the bushes they grow in, like some kind of bulbous flowers.

December 13 was the first time I saw death at close quarters. My grandfather died on that day a long time ago and with it, it all stopped, even the fields are dead now, my cousins born after have no clue as to what went on in a previous generation. The two of us, consider ourselves lucky to have known the man in his house and his fields.

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pins & ashes

An Aquarius Woman

16 thoughts on “My Grandfather’s House”

  1. Oh my oh my. .. I don’t have words to say .. I am touched and this post has brought so may memories.. so many yyyy

    I am sure you read a lot of those posts I wrote. .

    And as I wrote in my previous post this time I am going to go and visit everyone..

    Beautiful posttttttttt

    Liked by 2 people

    1. He was a good man, a very strict father and a grandfather as well. But somebody who let us go wild every day with a back pack full of goodies and listen to the stories we had to tell him about everything during the day, from the insects to the water, to the jelly fish.. to the trees.. to the stones.. people..

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Nothing to say, really… can’t think of anything in the usual leg-pulling sorta way.

    My own grandfather (paternal, the only one alive by the time I was born) was also a strict but indulgent kind. He left his village and came to Hyderabad long before I was born, so I have no clue about farms and all, except for what he – and my dad, uncles, etc. – used to keep recalling in those days. Oh, the memories of how he used to play with me, and how he used to beat me up when I was being my usual overly-naughty self… *sigh*

    Liked by 1 person

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