Adventures in a blue car

Last week while chatting with a childhood friend,we remembered the car my family drove.

A light blue Standard Herald.
Oh boy ,that car did some major travels. Since my dad was posted out of the town we lived in ,the day school ended, the very next day  we would be off to wherever he lived at that time.
My mum learnt to drive the year we got the car. She turned out to be a great driver,and I only remember  the one time she backed into a lamppost . The day she came to pick us up from school and I must inform you that it was not her fault at all .So, she had just learnt to reverse and she would bring the peon to make sure she had help when or if there was a puncture or break down.A  more than middle aged guy who muttered all day. Anyway he was told to get down and tell her how much of turning space she had ....and say "vanga"and show his hand for her to stop.I dont know where he was looking that particular day but she backed and hit the post. She was mad at him and I don't think he came back for work. Don't remember her having any other incident in all the years after though .
The car meanwhile travelled all the way down south...
Rameswaram,Karaikudi, Madurai,Dindigul,Nagercoil,...we were all bunched up in the back seat.I hated the long sticky drives,the Herald didn't have windows that opened in the back so the four of us had to make do ,the younger two in the middle and the elder in the sides. Where we went, the dog went too so some place for him too. I was the puking one, especially when we climbed up the ghats as we  reached the top , my stomach would be in my mouth and often in the car as well.My brothers hated  it,so no one wanted to sit next to me. Of course they had little choice.
The day  before we left,mum would cook enough food,this would mean sandwiches,muruku, cake,and whatever else was needed to stave off four hungry  children. We had this suitcase that so voluminous that our clothes (all four and mums ) would be packed.Sometimes we even took our cycles.(Again  if the place we were going to gave us an opportunity to use them) Mum was tireless and the food hamper was filled to bulging.,it was a lovely green  and white box that she bought off some missionary.
Once the journey began we would stop only for food .
Find a nice shady tree,and Mum would spread bed sheet for us to sit.If it were underneath a tamarind tree,well,our pockets would be full of the sweet and sour fruit.
The car served us for many years,though I do remember it had some problem with the crankshaft. I cannot say more for I have no clue which part of the car that belongs to. It's gearbox also began to wear down but not before many adventures.
One year on one of our many travels my Dad was the designated driver and it was raining. The rain was so heavy you could not hear much else and the sound of gushing water became so fierce as we neared a causeway,the water here flows over the road and dad had to slow down and keep to the very centre.As we cautiously  made our way through suddenly in the mist ahead a man pushing his cycle in one hand and holding his umbrella in the other. No amount of horning made him move faster or to the side....well the slower dad went the water began to push the car and to our horror we were going sideways. In some presence of mind dad shut the engine and turned the wheel to the other side as much as he could turn it. We stopped at the very edge.
The man in the cycle had not even turned.
From somewhere some men turned up and helped push the car back to solid ground.
One time leaving the quaint little church at Cokers walk in Kodaikanal,we came down the steep driveway to find the gate was half closed. Dad pulled the handbrake to get out and open it. As he started back to the car the handbrake slipped and the car began to move forward.Dad was shocked, he put both hands forward as if he could stop it from coming further and plunging ,metres to its death..with the rest of us. Mum pulled up the handbrake but it didn't stop.My oldest brother then somehow scrambled over us and stamped the break.
Sometimes it feels like a premonition.
Sometimes I feel we had second chances. You don't give up on second chances. You grab them with both hands and live them fully.
Wonder what happened to our Herald ?


The weather has become dry and hot.Nights are still chilly.
Coffee plants are getting ready to bud and wait for the first showers in April. They need the dry weather to stress them enough to really blossom .
I just need coffee when I get stressed. Hopefully I  can share some pictures of the blossom in my next post.
Until then enjoy the last days of winter as a hard hot summer beckons....

Love and Loss

He was warm and cuddly, He smelt of lifebouy soap and freshness When he laughed,he guffawed and his belly shook. He would sniff my forehead and swing me onto his back for a ride around the house saying"uppu beka"(do you want salt) and knew more about the stars in the night sky than anyone I knew. He was a unpretentious, hardworking, and my hero....i just called him daddy. Love has a way of seeing the best in someone,no matter what they did wrong a d as the years have passed I remember the good times for they far outweigh the bad. My perpetual memory of him is coming home on a Saturday morning, he was posted outstation most of my growing up and would take a night bus to get home.He would never come empty handed...but always have a jackfruit,a bunch of palmfruit(nungu)tied in a palm leaf,mangoes,and such. He would leave sunday evening carrying his worn suitcase and I remember watching and waving until he was a tiny speck and I couldn't see him for either he was too far away or my eyes were cloudy with tears. Many years later when he used to fly ,he would save the peppermints that he got so I could have them. Yesterday I found a letter he wrote me when I went on a college excursion....he had asked not to miss seeing certain particular places of interest.His knowledge on things around him was astounding and I found myself often openmouthed and taking it all in. The envelope included a Kodak cricket contest that he would cut out of the newspaper and fill up for me to take part(I know little of that sport other than bat,bowl and six). In the many years that he did this we won nothing ....except it made for a wonderful letter exchange between a young father and his daughter. Summer nights after dinner we would often sit on the terrace of out house in the city looking up at the stars. He would point out each one and often have a tale to tell me. When we visited places like forts and temple towns he would tell us the history behind it and if a religious tale ,well he knew them too. Though my memory is not as great as his was I have tried to pass along these stories to my children . They help especially during long drives. I was also fortunate enough to spend some holidays alone with him, (my brothers had school)though the days were often tedious ,I say tedious because I had hit 10 and I wasn't to be left alone at home so he took me to the office and I had to stay quiet and read and draw. He could plait my hair well enough,and could sew if his shirt lost a button (He had an old sweet box with thread and needle), he could also knit ..or so he said. His love for cricket far outweighed everything and even in the midst of packing and moving house his transistor would be blaring the cricket scores. He played every sport and could be a mean opponent in chess and Chinese checkers....rarely letting me win. They say you can't turn back the clock and one should move forward but time stood still the day he died. He would have turned 86 today but he stays 56 .....forever in my mind, young,vibrant,ruddy cheeked and smiling. Forever Young, Happy Birthday Daddy