Coconut, the wonder fruit - Nostalgia !

Time does not stand still. People do not live for ever.

But time stands still and people live for ever in our sweet memories.

I walked up to this building this morning three years ago and stood watching it for a few minutes ruminating.

My mind went back to April 1982 – to my impromptu first ever visit to Bombay – and this was the place I went looking for after alighting at Dadar railway station.

I know the address of a flat in this building by heart from the time I could pen postal letters in English.

5, BSES quarters ( opp BSES House )
Prabhat Colony, Santa Cruz East
Mumbai -400055

While in college I used to write letters regularly to some families. And some of the letters went to the above address for the reading pleasure of Dorai anna and family ( though he was only a few years younger to my dad, we addressed him as elder brother- he was our neighbour from our village in Kerala )

Till I completed my engineering degree in 1982, our holiday travel was from Madras to Trichur ( onward to my village ) and back.

During my college days in Madras the joke among my friends was that while most of them would have been to Mumbai, Delhi and Bangalore several times, if somebody was to ask me how many times I had been to Marina Beach, my response would be “Twice”!

My sister with my parents had travelled from Madras for a marriage in Bombay in 1969 while I was in my native village with my grandparents. She used to describe this trip every now and then as though she had been to the moon to irritate me and I did get irritated. The few chunks of Lonawala chikki my parents had sent through some of my village neighbours who had travelled to Bombay for the same marriage was no substitute for the rollicking time my sister had in Bombay. She described an item of daily use at Dorai anna’s house and this description stayed struck in my mind for years to come.

In April 1982, a group of us, final year students from engineering college proceeded to Poona to attend final interview at Thermax. For all but one in that group, it was the first trip to Pune. The exception was Balram who had a cousin in Pune. I learnt Balram was planning to proceed to Bombay ( he had been there several times earlier ) after the interview. I told him I would join him. Balram imposed a caveat. He said he had to visit his cousin who would insist that he should stay for a day or two. I was to go along with Balram to visit his cousin in Pune and bluff we had to proceed that afternoon to Bombay for a final interview. I agreed. His cousin was at Baner Road which was tough to locate and had nothing nearby – an equivalent of Guduvancherry and Gummidipundi of those days !

Though I had telephone numbers of my intended Bombay hosts Dorai anna and his sister Jayamakka ( at Andheri ), I wanted to surprise them. So I did not call them before hand. I was confident they would be around- a baseless confidence one feels at young age !

Balram and I boarded Deccan Express from Poona and were at Dadar at 7 pm. Balram was proceeding to Chembur and offered to help me to reach my destination in Santa Cruz ( East ). I told Balram that I had telephone numbers of Dorai anna and his sister ( staying in Andheri ) and one of them would definitely pick me up. Balram left. I went to the public call booth outside Dadar station and called Dorai anna’s number several times- no response. I tried Jayamakka’s number- again no response. Fifteen minutes went by and I started to sweat. The hopeless feeling of landing up in a strange city with no knowledge of Hindi started sinking in.

I asked somebody how to proceed to Santa Cruz ( East ). I was told to take a bus to Santa Cruz ( West ) from a bus stop near Pritam Hotel and then cross over to East side at Santa Cruz railway station.

I boarded a double decker- I should say I tumbled into the double decker as I waited for people to alight but those waiting to board pushed me sending me sprawling with my bag. I asked my co passengers to alert me at the right stop to alight but their response was in Hindi. After a bit of coaxing, one of them responded helpfully in English but lapsed into Hindi when I reminded him a few times while the bus was in motion. I managed to alight at the right stop and locate Santa Cruz railway station. I knew BSES House was a prominent location and asked somebody on the foot over bridge to East how to proceed. First my persuasion was to make the gentleman respond in English. I went a step further and requested him to put in an auto and instruct the driver in Hindi appropriately about my destination. The kind soul he was fulfilled my request.

I rang the door bell at first floor of the BSES quarters. Dorai anna opened the door and stood staring at me. I knew he could not recognise me. Our previous meeting was five years earlier when I was a thin gawking youngster with no facial hair bearing no resemblance to the well built ( handsome ! ) youngster with thick moustache standing at his door step. I told him in Malayalam ( deliberately ) that I was somebody whom he knew well and asked him to let me in. He did and I sank into the sofa in the drawing room. I kept talking in Malayalam persuading him to identify me but he kept staring at me cluelessly. Finally I told him,” Dorai anna, I am Babu” and he was really surprised. He said the only clue could have been I sounded exactly like my dad but he could not grasp that as I deliberately spoke in Malayalam and we had always conversed in Palghat Tamil.

While Dorai anna and I kept chatting, Rama manni ( bhabhi ) came to the drawing room several times for something or the other and left. Dorai anna said she had also not recognised me and called her. He asked her to take a good look and tell who I was. She took a close look but drew blank. When she was told who I was, she exclaimed my name in joy clasping her cheeks with her cupped palms in surprise. She suggested that they should try out the identity test with their three daughters ( the eldest was eleven then ). All the three came out of their study room , stood at the door of the drawing room and looked at me. After a few seconds, Anu, the second daughter, shouted excitedly,” Babu !”.

After the initial excitement subsided, I asked Rama manni to show me around the flat. She did ending the tour in the kitchen and asked me to proceed to the drawing room so that she could serve me coffee.

I asked her, “ Show me your dust bin, the one with the pedal operated lid.”

Rama manni laughed out loudly. She knew where I was coming from – sibling rivalry !

She called Dorai anna and said,” Oh, my god. Look at this fellow. He has not forgotten what his sister told him thirteen year back. He has come all the way from Madras thinking about the dust bin. Babu ! Dust bin do not last thirteen years. Atheppavo thookki pottachu. ( it was discarded long time back )”

Dorai anna used to tell me that my letters were very different from others. Looking back, he was the one who recognised I could write well though I started writing vignettes around a decade ago – alas, when I could not ask him for his opinion.

Hmm…. Time does not stand still. People do not live for ever. But time stands still and people live for ever in our sweet memories