And finally its here.... My mom has been transferred back to Thrissur, our native, after an eternal waiting for 15 years. The feeling of joy is inexpressible, undefinable in words.And its time to look back into the past for a quick glimpse.
The year was 1994 when she bade farewell to Thrissur, when I was in my first year of schooling and my brother still in kindergarten. Time flew by, and came the year of the dreaded Y2K virus. As per the rules of her firm, a transfer could be expected after minimum of four years at a place and we were into our seventh year at Thiruvananthapuram, where I completed my studies till 7th from Kendriya Vidyalaya Pangode. Obscure memories are what remain in my mind about that place. I gained back a few of those forgotten friends from the online friends network of Orkut.
The first transfer from TVPM was to the exotic hills of Kodaikanal, which she refused much to our dismay. The reason was the absence of a K.V there. The transfer to Mysore( or Mysooru) soon followed which she was obliged to take up and proceed with. We were "transshipped" to K.V Mysore, a school with a brief history and modest academic background compared to the giant from which I left.
It was really hard to adapt to the new circumstances ab initio. The major trouble was with communication. Though K.Vians are taught Hindi and English from primary classes, the medium of communication was often the local language among the students. As a result, we were more fluent in Malayalam than all the school's Kannadiga students combined!!
The next trouble was with food, and it really pisses you off, I swear! Though Malayali cuisine is liked universally, I could not somehow adjust with the Carnatic counterpart. It became traumatic during lunch breaks when everyone shared their tiffins. I was reluctant and this offended many!! Hey, what else could have I done??!!
The troubles ended almost as soon as they had come. I started learning Kannada and my first words ( other than swears) were " Nanige Kannada Baralla!!" (I don't know Kannada!). This single connected string helped me to hustle through the trouble of conversing with local Sabji vendors( called "tarkaariwaala") and shopkeepers who would soon switch to their version of English or Hindi, two languages that were known to almost all of them.
The Carnatic cuisine, on the other hand, turned out to be equally delicious as anything and I'm sure of missing the Bisibele-bath and Mosaranna among other delicacies.
If asked what I liked the most in the years I spent in Mysore the answer would be the beauty of this Royal City. The clutches of Urbanisation were defenceless against the expertise of the city planners in keeping the reminiscence of royal splendour exist in perfect harmony with the demands of the present. I haven't been to Paris or Kashmir, but would definitely dare to make the statement that 'here, is the heaven on earth'.
Every child's dream is a bicycle of his own. I got my "Hero Devil" as soon as we reached here. The cycle was sold later to make way for yet another hot entry in the market- The All-New Hercules Top-Gear :). Cycling through the wide roads which were once traversed by the kings themselves, exploring places and new hangouts had a special fervour of their own.
Its hard to digest the realisation of this moment to bid farewell to this city, the city which manured my childish dreams, my ambitions and my "firsts" in many matters.Hoping to return back here once again, after a brief period, alike M. Mukundan's return to Haridwar, to cherish these golden, nopes, priceless memories.
Adios Mio Splendido Paradiso......................................