The carefully swept muddy path leading to the ancestral home was dotted with a variety of birds. These birds flew around in a playful manner. Everything appeared just the same, except that no one stood out on the veranda to welcome us. My husband ran into the backyard and my son headed to my mother-in-law’s brother’s place through the hedges on the left. My mother-in-law’s brother had his daughter, grandsons and family living with him. I stood there all alone watching every detail of the vast greenery. My mother-in-law would always wait for us close to the short wall near the well. I always wondered what was the purpose of this tiny wall since it was barely a foot tall. ‘A tiny demarcation for plants’, she would say with a smile. My father-in-law used to walk to the main gate and beyond. She would always have plenty of work and would always welcome us with her hands full. I looked at the pond that was full now on the far end and the almond tree that had stood four feet high when I married. Today, the tree seems stoic despite its height. It must have noticed the family happenings; it must have witnessed the house lady being carried for treatment and then brought back in a shroud.
It has been more than a year since I lost my mother-in-law. The first-anniversary ceremony according to scriptures has to be done at the ancestral home by the eldest son. My husband is the eldest and resembles my mom-in-law in his appearance and many of his habits. We had booked our tickets in the month of January and were set to leave the next day when my husband was affected by fever and cold similar to the Omikron Covid. We cancelled our tickets. A small ceremony was organized in the temple on the same day but none could move out in Kerala due to the third wave lockdown early this year. The priest has an answer to all the problems. He arranged the ceremony last week. Plans were made again. Food was organized, and the priest took care of everything else.
The front door of the house was never latched and I had to gently push it open. In the room, there was no one but a huge brown rabbit chewing grass in a tiny cage. It surprised me but pets are healing. I gently closed the door and walked to the backyard where both my mother-in-law and father-in-law had been cremated. There used to be a mound here, but now the land appears flat and the area seems no different from any other in the vast expanse with its lush greenery. After cremation, some plants were planted to represent newness and life, reminding one of the nine grains that sprout during the rituals. It also reduces the negative energies according to Hindu Mythology.
This kind of cremation is traditional in many of the houses in Kerala that have large yards. The rest of the yard where there were no plants was swept clean. In the stillness of the afternoon, I heard tiny fruits dropping. The tree was laden with pale green and yellow star fruits. One of them fell close to me and a few lying on the ground exploded under my feet. I looked at the tree which was massive now. It took me down memory lane when the tree was younger. I would hear my mother-in-law call out to me often in those days, ‘Let’s go pick some Karambal (Star-fruits) in the yard.”. We would all rush out leaving everything on hand because we would wander and check out the banana trees, coconuts and sometimes the pineapple that lined the boundary walls. It was wonderful to connect with nature and the experience was memorable. We also exchanged pleasantries with the neighbours. The neighbours lived far beyond the large expanse of the land and we would raise our voices to talk to each other. We would also eat juicy and fresh star-fruits right away. We would pluck a lot of these, but then they were just enough for the whole family. My mother-in-law made the best pickle out of it. She would give me a large bottle to carry to Mumbai. She knew I would share some with my siblings too. She would reassure me by saying, ‘I will pickle more when the fruits ripen.’
My father-in-law was an energetic man. On many occasions, he would lead us to the front side of the yard to see the rubber and teak trees. At the time, the teak trees were almost twenty years old. Some of the trees were sold to buyers, but every time one was cut down, a new one was planted. There were cashew nut plants, nutmeg plants, betel nut plants, and peppercorn varieties. There were many varieties of jasmine and hibiscus lining the raised open porch where we drank many cups of tea. He would cycle to the market and bring groceries and plenty of vegetables which we would segregate and sort into bamboo winnowers. We never stored vegetables in the refrigerator. We also had lots of vegetables growing in the yard but I didn’t find any this time.
The yard on the right side had a huge slopping washing stone with a hollow on one side where the washing soap and brush could be kept. There was a tap with running water. I remember washing our clothes there, that sort of washing supported our posture and never got us tired washing. The maid who worked for the family then was Kalyani who would also wash plenty of clothes there. She would also chat a lot. Some of us would sweep and clean, some would play with the kids and the yard would always be noisy. The huge premises often seemed full in those days but today it was barren and quiet. There was a washing machine in the work area near the kitchen. The work area had a grinding stone on the ground and an Arakallu, a flat grinding stone on the platform, there was a hearth where we all used to heat water and cook food. The place used to be filled with wood but now there stood a lone washing machine and the hearth lies unused.
My sister-in-law and my nephew were back from school. They offered us tea. The kitchen was clean with papers laid. The loft was clean and the cupboard had just the essentials. My mother-in-law’s constant cooking would often upset me. The loft would be filled with savouries and sweets and I would wonder when would we stop eating. Plans were made constantly for the next day’s cooking. The rest of the time was spent washing cleaning and visiting friends and family. I disliked the social visits and felt I had no time to relax and enjoy. Today I am wiser and understand that my in-laws wanted us to have people around when they would leave the world.
On the day of the ceremony, the maid Sini and her husband cleaned and worked silently. They smiled in between but there was no talk like the good old days. Modernization had infiltrated with digitalization, everyone was busy on their mobile phones. The maid too toyed with the phone occasionally. My mother-in-law wanted us to adorn a sari. She would often say, ‘learn to wear it when you visit us’. She would gift us sarees but I would find it cumbersome. I wore the sarees she had gifted for every ritual of hers. I wish I had done it more often when she was alive. The priest who carried the rituals was the one who had conducted our marriage. He was young then. Today he understood the generation and prepared everything accordingly. Food was cooked by the cook. It was a part of the rituals and it was laid out for all later. There was no chaos as the kids have also grown. We finished the rituals in the afternoon and got ready to leave the house in the evening to board the late-night flight. As we got ready to leave, the lamp burned in the hollow of the Tulsi plant and the trees looked on. I walked barefooted to feel the earth under my feet, it was just the same, still warm and loving.
“Anyone can buy a flower, but it takes more to grow one and let its beauty live on.”― Jessica Marie
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