My Folklore

By Yuvankshi Venugopal

Word on the streets of Ramapuram, a small city in the Alappad district in the state of Kerala, is that my Ammachi meaning my great grandmother made the most delicious Sambar among all of our community. Unfortunately, my taste buds never had the privilege of relishing the best, as they say. Although I do have a faint memory of her petite bony structure sitting at the foot of the stairway into the corner most home over a disputed property and a barely five or six year old me skipping downwards singing to her Ammachiii and being greeted by a pale weak voice that sang Ohhh. “Ohh!” in my mother tongue, is more than just a sound. To Ammachi Malayalam was the only medium of communication.

Three of my Maman’s who remain occupants of the birthplace of my Ammuma meaning my grandmother, have spoiled me every time I set foot into their territories, to each his own. The middlemost made it his life purpose to educate me of all that the universe is made of, the youngest spoiled me with ice-creams, long walks and the occasional shopping of bangles or colouring books. The oldest Maman, who never interacted with me at all remains my favourite, for in him I saw a piece of myself, he is known across the town for creating the most beautiful and realistic replicas of idols, sculptures, decorative from paper-mache. My father tells me that back in the day, he used to teach kids my age, I never had that privilege either.

My Ammuma came to Bombay carrying a suitcase full of dreams of a better life at the mere age of 16 married to my muttacchacn, who worked at IIT Powai, that gave my father and his siblings the best childhood. Bombay taught her life and her medium of communication was not just restricted to Malayalam now. She spoke fluent English and broken Hindi as well. My Muttachan, I’ve only lived with him through the stories of recklessness that my father told me of how he send my father and his siblings of get fallen branches from the forest and used those very branches to punish them for skipping school and the photos of him puffing on a cigar in most of the torn albums that wear layers and layers of dust that rest over the top of the cupboard.Ammuma spend her days taking care of four and awaiting muttacchan’s arrival to serve him piping hot strong ginger tea with a plate of warm Idli Sambar, some days he brought over colleagues and friends and that was how Ammuma came to be known among the occupants of IIT and later after Muttachan moved to Saudi for work, because back in the day it was mandatory for every south Indian to have family in Saudi.A similar pattern of behaviour that displayed by my father resulted in expanding the territory to parts of Powai, where Ammuma came to be known as the woman who made unbeatable sambar and my household celebrated this with pride every year preparing a massive wholesome Onam meal feeding three courses of meals to all those who enter the door on banana leafs.

The precipitous loss of Muttachan passed on responsibility on the privileged shoulders of my father.

My Mother learned all southern delicacies from Ammuma in the year she wed in and prepared those as well as the mouth-watering Rajasthani delights she’d grown up eating, as and when she got the time. My mother wears pride and elegance as she establishes a designing firm with over 25 employees when all she began with was one machine. She is a force of nature. Her tongue knows more languages than the places I have been to. She understands all of Malayalam and fluently converses in English, Hindi, Marathi, Gujarati, Marvadi, Kachi, Bengali. Uff! At least these are the ones I am aware of. As Ammuma grew older, Ma prepared for the Onam festivities.We moved to Ghatkopar, when Mother setup shop there, and Onam that year was a grand ceremony. A delight that began late morning and went on as friends and family of all generations visited and stayed and enjoyed until past bed time. Ever since Mumma came to be known as the one who carried the legacy and tradition of my family that reign from Ramapuram, a small city in the Alappad district in the state of Kerala,and my Ammachi making the most delicious and unbeatable sambar in all of our community.

Sambar laced in love and hope garnished by uniqueness passed on through the generations of women in my family is what I believe Ammachis legacy.

By Yuvankshi Venugopal