WHEN I WAS A LITTLE GIRL

The author’s fond recollection from her childhood days in India spent amidst mango and coconut groves.

– BY SWETHA SUNDARAM, AUTHOR

Like most people, I too grew up listening to “when I was a little girl” stories. ‘Tell me, grandma, ‘I would ask. ‘How was it when you were a little girl?’ or I would ask my mom, ‘tell me stories from your childhood.’ All they needed was to hear my request and immediately, they would start narrating stories from their childhood which not only held my attention but, took them to their own childhood days; the golden days, the happy days.

What is it about the past that it is always golden? Maybe because we know the outcome. We never cherish the present because we can’t see into the future but, we enjoy reliving our past because when we are there, we can see into the future. We were too eager to grow up but once we reach adulthood, we miss the carefree life we had in our childhood. What wouldn’t we give to return to those happy days? Time alas, doesn’t turn back for anyone and we must only content ourselves by reliving those happy days by narrating “when I was a little girl” stories.

When I was a little girl, the world didn’t seem like a complicated place to live in. I was born into a very loving family. I remember as if it was only yesterday, running around our home in Sri Rangam. My parents had built a very beautiful and modern home in Sri Rangam, a small island town in the middle of the River Cauvery. At the time when I was a child, it wasn’t an overcrowded city which it has turned into now. In fact, at that time we had only three-digit phone numbers! The houses then were surrounded by coconut groves and mango groves. Now, most of the single family dwellings have been turned into apartment complexes. The water in those good old days, tasted sweet as if the Cauvery was a River of pure coconut water. The atmosphere was very peaceful, calm and quiet, just what one would expect when living in the country.

As a child, I was literally the princess in our home. Our household consisted of me and my parents. (My brother was born a couple of years later), a gardener, and maids. Indian children are not used to doing chores when they are young and neither did I. We had a gardener to take care of the grounds. We had a large front and back garden with many coconut and banana trees. We had two maids; they were sisters and were called Mariamma and Kamatchi. When they were first employed by my mom, they must have been in their late teens. Their job was to do the dishes, wash clothes and sweep and mop the floors. There was another lady who came to clean the washrooms. My favourite was the lady who came to clean our telephone! Yes, you heard me right, back then we even had someone to clean telephones. After she cleaned the phone, she would rub some kind of fragrance on the phone and she would always dab a little on my hands too. Because I like the scent, I would always hang around her while she cleaned the phone so that she wouldn’t forget to dab a little fragrance on my hands.

Like most children, I had dolls and stuffed animals. My parents spent more on educational toys. I had an engineering set and also a doctor set. I also had a variety of tea sets and cookware sets in a variety of materials from wood, ceramic, stainless steel to plastic. I also had two large trucks by Leo Toys in red and yellow colour. I was very upset when a couple of years later, my brother took these trucks and started banging them on the floor; that was his way of playing. More than toys, I had a big library. My parents had purchased a complete set of an educational series called “Children’s Knowledge Bank”. It was like an encyclopedia but, for children. In addition to these, I was also given “Tell Me Why?” and “Still More Tell Me Why” series. I also had a big hardcover book of Russian Fairy Tales – my favourite stories from this book were the frog princess, roots and tops and Firebird. Apart from the above, like any kid growing up in India, I had a large collection of Amar Chitra Katha, Panchatantra and Jataka Tales comic books. During holidays, in the afternoon, I would quietly lie next to my mother and read books. The monotony of the afternoon was broken now and then by the cry of a lone crow. Even today when I hear the cry of a crow, my memory returns to those afternoons in Sri Rangam. Sometimes when I was tired of reading, I worked on some projects. One such project was when I decided to make perfume at home. Of course, I had no idea about the ingredients or the procedure for making perfume. My idea of making perfume was soaking jasmine flowers in water and mashing the flowers but, to my disappointment, the experiment produced a very bad smell and the flowers had to be thrown out. Another time, after watching a documentary on Japanese paper umbrella, I decided to make my own umbrellas. They were called paper umbrella, weren’t they? So all I needed was some paper. I spent the next few hours on drawing and colouring some flowers on a sheet of paper. Then I collected some sticks from the middle of the coconut leaves and tried pasting them on to the sheets of paper. When I realized that I couldn’t turn my artwork into umbrellas, I tried to turn them into kites. I pasted two coconut leaf stick diagonally on the paper, punched a hole in one corner of the paper, tied a string and tried to fly my kite. But, once again this experiment was a flop because the kite was too heavy to fly! My school was just a street over and after school, I spent my time in the yard if it wasn’t too hot. My mom was always worried about me falling prey to a heat stroke so, she never allowed me to play outside when the weather was too hot. 5 pm in the evening was the ideal time when she let me venture into our front yard. I would run around examining the plants and counting the number of flowers on the hibiscus tree though I was never alone because mom always kept an eye on me even when she was inside. After a while, when I got bored, I would go near our front gate and look out into the street. The people who lived down the street raised goats and many of their goats always wandered up and down the street. Mom was very particular about keeping the gate closed as otherwise, the goats would wreak havoc in our garden. To her dismay, I spent time befriending the goats and amused myself by feeding them mom’s precious crotons. The goats would gather around the front gate and I would feed them leaves through the decorative grill. I was especially fond of their kids and enjoyed patting their nose. Mom was never happy when I petted the goats. ‘Look at their fur,’ she would say. ‘It’s so dirty! Go wash your hands with soap and water.’ I never understood why she thought the goats were not clean. To me, they looked very cute with the softest fur. The reason I enjoyed petting goats was because they weren’t aggressive. They were not like cats or dogs who could bite and scratch your face. My mom had instilled quite a fear in me for dogs. ‘If you are bitten, the doctor will give you fourteen injections on your tummy!’

‘Really mommy, fourteen?’

‘Yes, fourteen. So, don’t go near dogs! And stay away from cats! There is no antidote in the world if a cat bit you!’

I believed that cats were poisonous and a few years later when my grandma’s pet cat gave me a warning peck when I tried to prevent her from entering the house, I was terrified and believed that I was going to die. I spent a sleepless week and at the end of the week, I finally understood that I wasn’t going to die and that cats weren’t poisonous. That was once again mom’s way of keeping me away from cats and dogs as she was afraid that they may be rabid.

Thinking back to my childhood days, I remembered the number of times my parents had lied to me and even though they had lied, I appreciate that they had done so. My mom was never keen on eating out. She was always cautious about what she fed me. I had to drink water that had been filtered, had gone through the water purifying system and had been boiled. She always carried home cooked meals for me even when we went shopping because she wouldn’t feed me restaurant food. It so happened that once, we were forced to eat in a restaurant. My father wanted to order masala dosas which were lentil crepes with mashed potato filling but mom shot him a warning glance. ‘Mashed potatoes? Really? Are we sure they used food processors to mash or perhaps someone just mashed the potatoes by hand! Anyway, we can’t let Swetha have such unhygienic food.’ This is what mom’s glance implied and my dad immediately changed his order but, it was too late because I had heard the words “masala dosa”. My mom knew that I was capable of throwing a temper tantrum and she also knew that she couldn’t let me eat masala dosa. She quickly said, ‘Don’t worry; we will all eat masala dosa.’ When the crepes arrived, I was surprised that they didn’t have the potato filling. ‘This is special masala dosa,’ my mom told me. ‘This is how they make masala dosa in restaurants. They hide the potatoes in the batter.’ Mom’s trick worked and I believed her. A couple of days later when mom made masala dosa at home with the potato filling, I told her, ‘I don’t want these. Hide the potatoes for me like they did in the restaurant.’ While mom lied for my good, dad lied for fun. I had just started taking music lessons and he vowed to me that he could sing my songs in Russian. When he sang, I believed that he was singing in Russian. I was very proud of my dad. The next day, when I sang the song in school in “Russian”, I couldn’t comprehend why everyone laughed! I am glad that he lied to me because it is one of my fond memories.

My favourite outing was when my parents took me to the temples. I had to wear my silk skirt and insisted on wearing matching glass bangles and matching hair clips. My mom, of course, wasn’t happy with me wearing glass bangles. What if the bangles were to break? I could end up getting cuts. She finally compromised and got me unbreakable plastic bangles. I remember as if it was only yesterday when I went running through the halls of the Ranganatha Swami temple. My mom raised me by imbibing in me that Lord Ranganathan and Ranganayaki Thayar were our parents. To me, visiting the temple was like visiting my parents’ house. To this day, when I enter the temple I have the feeling of “coming home” to my parents. On our way back from the sanctum, I would stop near every banister

designed in the shape of an elephant because I had to ride on them. My dad would help me to climb on top of the stone elephants. When I was on the lookout for stone elephants, I was really searching for Andal the temple elephant. 'There she is,' my parents would tell me. ‘She is standing in the Garuda Mandapam. Would you like to say hello to her?' my dad would take me near her and only at that moment I would realize that she is much bigger than the stone elephants. Overcome by awe, I would try to hide behind my father, but she would gently touch my head with her trunk transporting me to seventh heaven! Like every citizen of SriRangam, we visit the temple not to seek blessings, but, to say 'hello' to our beloved Lord Ranganathan. We go there to feast our eyes on his "beauty". When someone meets their friend returning from the temple, they never ask whether they had a good darshan but, ask for a description of the Lord's attire; "Is He wearing the Pandyan kondai today? What is the colour of His garment?" The love we feel for Him can't be described in words. He is truly our Lord and hence the name Namperumal". He is the King of not just SriRangam but, the entire Universe. Maharajas, in general, have elephants in their palaces. When even ordinary Maharajas have elephants, shouldn’t the Lord of the Universe be entitled to having elephants in His temple? Everything associated with Him is cherished by the people of SriRangam and that includes Andal. The name given to her itself will show the love and respect people have for her as, how can anyone think about “Andal” without contemplating on “Namperumal”?

I have fond memories of Andal, walking through the streets of SriRangam. We used to rush outside to welcome her when we heard her bell ringing and fed her large chunks of jaggery, bananas, and water. It was especially fun to watch her take her pick from the coconut palm trees in our garden. She would pull down the leaves with ease, remove just the blades with her trunk, and roll it all up before putting it in her mouth. Once, she left behind a large pile of elephant droppings. Some mischievous older kids who lived nearby told me that it was medicinal to stomp in the elephant droppings. I was naïve and didn’t know that they were playing a prank on me, so, I removed my sandals and started jumping around in her droppings! My mom had a fit when she saw me and hosed my feet in the yard! When I think back to that day, I remember that her dropping smelt like fresh cut grass and to this day, I chuckle when I think about the fit mom had when she saw me jumping around in elephant dung! Not every kid can get such an opportunity!

My love for gardening stems from the time I spent in Sri Rangam as a child. As mentioned earlier, we had many coconuts, banana and papaya trees and many varieties of jasmine. I remember visiting the nursery “Thathacharyar Gardens” with my parents as a child from where we picked up our seedlings. I loved to watch our gardener plant the seedlings. I used to call him “thatha” which meant “grandpa” in Tamil. He used to plant the cuttings and cap the tip with a small ball of cow dung. As if by magic, the cuttings which were just like an ordinary stick, would start to produce clusters of new shoots. Within a few weeks, they would be covered with masses of fresh green leaves!

As a child, my focus was on flowering plants. I remember eagerly waiting every day for a plant to bloom. From the day the buds set in, to the day they blossomed I used to watch impatiently and to me, it seemed like it took forever for the plants to flower. I dreamed about dahlias and roses in the garden. My parents got some dahlia seeds and many rose cuttings. I wanted orange, red and yellow roses. Once while I was playing in the yard I saw a street vendor selling rose cuttings on a handcart. He advertised that he was selling orange, red and yellow roses. I immediately got mom to come and take a look at the cuttings. He was selling cuttings in large terracotta pots and he swore that they had true roots and would definitely produce orange, red and yellow roses. Mom purchased some plants for me and I watched them eagerly every single day with the hopes of one day seeing a large, beautiful tea rose but, alas, they turned out to be ordinary pink roses and that too tiny ones like a mini rose. The climate being hot, roses didn’t do very well in Sri Rangam. I had to be content with hibiscus. Mom said they were “Chinese Rose” and she had purchased beautiful double petalled yellow, lilac-coloured, pink and red hibiscus plants.The tall plants were repeat bloomers and produced many beautiful blooms. Mom also arranged for “kanakambaram”, fire-cracker flowers to be planted in neat rows in our backyard. They produced beautiful red, orange and yellow blossoms which she used to tie together with jasmine so that I can wear it on my hair. In our front yard, she had December plants which produced flowers similar to the fire-cracker flowers but in violet colour. There was also a tall night blooming jasmine tree which used to produce clusters of fragrant, white flowers with a coral coloured peduncle. These flowers were only used in pooja as they were considered to be of a divine origin. My absolute favourite was clusters of Indian Magnolia with fragrant, ivory flowers.

Now in our garden in Canada, we have the roses and dahlias which I used to yearn for as a child but, now I miss our tropical garden with the fragrant jasmines, magnolias and the multicoloured hibiscuses. I guess we always want that which we don’t have. I especially miss wearing jasmine on my hair. For the past two years, the wish to have jasmine flowers has been fulfilled by my mom. She has been painstakingly tending and caring for her large potted star jasmine plants. The plants to us are like our siblings because they take up a lot of mom’s love & affection but, the end result is beautiful clusters of fragrant star jasmine! I am good at caring for outdoor plants but am not so good with houseplants as it is very tricky to raise them properly. Thanks to my mom’s loving care, my wish to have homegrown jasmine have finally been fulfilled! Now when I see the star jasmine blooms, I see mom’s love. I realise now that the reason I enjoy reminiscing about my childhood days is because of the love mom showered on me.