She was the new girl in class. New to the city, she lived with her grandparents. Super snooty was my first impression of her. 5’10” , nerdy looks and hair that had a mind of its own. She was rather quiet and from what I learnt later – she thought I was very snooty too. A chance conversation during our lunch break then led to more conversations, shared lunches , pajama parties, sleep overs, secrets and a friendship that has lasted the last 25 years. Best friends since then, we’ve seen each other through the intense and the mundane, love and heartbreak, holidays and crazy moments and this friendship has spanned various cities and now continents. Looking back ,I marvel at how in our 25 years of being friends, we’ve been in the same city only for three years.
But this post is not about her. It is about the couple she lived with- her grandparents- whom we called Andappa and Andamma. Over the years, I’d pretty much adopted my friend’s grandparents as my third set of grandparents and they were an awesome couple and complete opposites. Andamma was bossy, gregarious,loud, full of life , temperamental and open and friendly when she wanted to be. Otherwise she had a glare perfected for people she didn’t like. Andappa was a soft-spoken man, stable, steady solid and very intelligent. Andappa’s was a quiet sense of humor, Andamma on the other hand could take sarcastic humor to a whole new level.
Andamma had a congenital problem with her heart and had days when she was unwell. Not that it ever stopped her from doing what she wanted to. She had immense will power and unflagging support from Andappa. Andappa was also the second person of his generation I’d met who defied all gender stereotyped responsibilities. I think Andappa was the first feminist of his generation that I knew. I watched him share responsibilities with Andamma, handle household chores and from the stories I’d heard – they’d shared everything-I watched him make sure she was comfortable, that she had everything she needed, and would make her coffee and this was not even a day when she was unwell. This was normal in this household. What always struck me was whenever I would visit- Andamma would want to know all my news- what I was doing, whether I liked my job, if I had heard from her granddaughter( didn’t matter that the said granddaughter would have called her that morning- the best friend always knew something more). Andappa had only one question for me- he’d ask me if I was happy. I don’t know why he asked that. He just always did. Andamma once told me that it was one thing that mattered to him. That his grand kids were happy. I was so touched.
That’s them, with my best friend.
My friend had moved to the US for higher studies and then continued to work there and I would drop in to meet Andamma and Andappa from time to time. It was one of those crazy hectic days and I was having a bad day. I was also going through a rather emotional phase. When a client call took me to their side of town, I dropped by to meet them. Andamma was having a nap and Andappa was recovering from a fever himself. But he welcomed me in. And took one look at my face and asked me if everything was alright.Apparently, a poker face is not something in my repertoire. I told him I was having a tough day, that was all. And he said “No, I meant – are you happy?” I was very close to tears and told him I was just going through a tough phase. He waited a minute. I wasn’t talking. So he said he was going to make me some coffee since that would help and of course something to eat since I hadn’t had lunch. I followed him to the kitchen and told him I would make something . He refused and so I just sat on the counter watching him. He took some left over vegetables from the fridge, and proceeded to make upma (a semolina savory) for me. I didn’t like upma but I didn’t have the heart to tell Andappa anything. The way upma was prepared at home was completely different. I didn’t particularly care for the mallu version. Andappa’s measurements were completely different and he then served me some piping hot upma and coffee and sat with me while I ate what I consider the best upma I have ever had – to date.I used to hate upma before, but Andappa’s upma changed all that. And then he said ” I don’t know what is troubling you. But I will pray for your happiness. Always. ” I would have started bawling there except that would have upset Andappa further. So I pulled myself together and told him I was really lucky to have him in my life. By then, Andamma had woken up and we then proceeded to talk about work and other things.
Andappa passed on a couple of years later and Andamma asked me to participate in certain rituals during his last rites since “I was the grand daughter” who was there at the time. And I did. Shortly after, Andamma moved out of town since she couldn’t stay alone.
They may have passed on, but they left a lasting impression on me. There were things from random conversations that stuck in my head. Andappa telling me that marks and grades were important but not as important as doing what you needed to do in life. It was just a tool to get you going on the path you wanted to. Or Andamma telling me stories of her sisters or her looking at some over the top actor on TV and moaning the fact that he wasn’t wearing any make up (sarcastic) and promptly following it up with ” Not that it would help.” I don’t think I have ever heard anyone else use the term ” patti pudichavan” other than Andamma. Her penchant for making pickles and kondattam. There was always some vegetable soaked in curd and drying in the sun in the balcony.The week before diwali, Andamma’s house would smell of muruku , cheedai, mixture and mysore pak. Andamma’s odd combination of her zest for life with a certain crabbiness that was all her. There was a lot of love and immense amount of patience (Andappa’s forte), lot of laughter despite tough times.
A couple of years down the line, on a completely crappy day in another city, I tried to replicate Andappa’s upma from memory . I was close. But it wasn’t perfect. But the husband loved it. That’s my version of Andappa’s upma.
It is the week before Diwali. My house smells nothing like Andamma’s. But I am making upma for breakfast tomorrow. I still make it, the way he did that day- with vegetables and I use ghee as he had recommended. And every time I do, I think very fondly of an old man who always was rooting for my happiness.