The rickety road next to the infamous HMT junction leads to
a little pink house- my grandmother’s house. Everything about the house is
nostalgic , even the colour, clock and curries. If not for her my vacations
would always be incomplete. Even when whole of Kerala complaints of failed
crops her backyard boasts of mangoes, bananas and coconuts. Her appams have the
most beautiful laces, puttu, the softest and pickles-my constant companion abroad.
Rosamma, Shoshamma and Anamma are none other than her hens and rarappan the lonely husband of the three. A feminist,
perfectionist and economist , she will sulk a whole day if you beat her in
chess. World has changed, s ways have changed, but she and her ways still
remains as same as her grandfather clock . Happy Birthday to my dear grandmother
!
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