Kudumba Vishesham* -- Life in an old joint-family structure

My grandmother cloistered herself within her large old house in central Kerala after my grandfather’s death. She lived in this state of self-imposed house arrest for more than 30 years. This was her way of mourning for the man she had married and lived with for more than 25 years.

I used to call my grandmother achamma [dad’s mom] even though she was really my ammamma [mom’s mom]. During my visits to achamma’s house in the long hot summer months, I would often wonder how she could bear to be at home forever. I was a party girl even then, and my uncles would take me “to town” every evening to eat vada sambar or mysore pak at Ashoka Bhavan, a local vegetarian “coffee house.”

Not once did it occur to me that achamma probably never missed the outside world. Now that I think about it, our home was indeed a happening place. The intense drama surrounding petty squabbles and ego hassles within a typical joint family structure ensured that each day in Sree Parvathy Mandiram was a new experience.

When achamma married my grandfather and came to live with him, he already had two daughters from a previous marriage. Our house was named after the two girls – Srimathy and Parvathy. Then, achamma went on to have six children of her own [one of them died in infancy]. Eventually, several nieces and nephews moved in and achamma’s tribe increased. In order to manage this large household, there were five retainers/servants. Eventually, the children grew up and got married and brought forth grandchildren.

With the passage of time, some members [of the family] moved out to cities like Mumbai and Chennai to seek their fortunes. However, every summer, the entire clan would assemble at Sree Parvathy Mandiram. On hot sticky nights, after dinner, we would gather on the brick verandah [that my mom and her siblings referred to as the “town bus”] and exchange stories and anecdotes late into the night.

While the elders’ voices droned on in the background, I would lie down on the baked brick floor with my head on achamma’s lap and drift off into peaceful slumber. The constant chirping of the crickets and the tiny glow of the fireflies’ wings added a magical quality to the nights. The frequent power cuts added to the rustic charm of the place. I would often look at the swaying fronds of the coconut palms in the yard and imagine they were ghosts dancing a wild dance in the darkness.

Now achamma has passed on, and it has been many years since I have visited Sree Parvathy Mandiram. I’ve forgotten what it is like to “belong” to a large joint family unit. Oftentimes, I have regretted the lack of drama in my largely insular, nuclear existence here in the US. Yesterday, however, some situations and events made me realize that I have somehow developed my very own “joint family” in this cowboy country.

Ah, but then, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll fill you in on the details of the situation in another post sometimes soon. Till then, it’s adios from Ms. Maggi.

Notes:
Kudumba Vishesham = Malayalam for family stories