Where shall we settle after my retirement?
This question used to bother us as we were homeless, living in government quarters, all along. The neighbours knew us well and we never felt isolated.
At Chandrasekharapuram, we were practically woven into the matrix of the village, as all residents were owners of the three temples in the colony.
After wards, we spent several years in Delhi. Our daughters lived within a mile; again, we felt secure.
Now we live at home. Within a few days, we have become part and parcel of a small community, in the extreme East end of Chathakudam, dominated by the Sastha temple.
Every morning we all go to the temple, after a dip in the temple pond, which is at our front gate. This ritual is repeated in the evening, when the temple is well lit by oil lamps which we call chirag in the North. It is like an open bowl filled with oil, with a protruding wick made of threads, which burns slowly.
With inumerble lamps, it is a wonderful sight to watch. I used to see Hari warriar, who has just returned from work, pouring oil, dipping the wick and, when all lamps are ready, lighting them. Sometimes his daughter helps him. She knows computer software and helps me when I am in trouble.
Hari is an ideal character, always helpful to all. He is the kingpin of the temple committee which controls the affairs of the temple.
WhenI reach the bus stop, here it is the terminal and the distance is only five minutes leisurely walk from home, the bus conductor knows me and my destination. The vegetable vendor, the barber and the electrician – all know me. Some address me as “thirumeni”, as namboodiries are called by people of other castes.
It is a novel experience after retirement in 1992!
At Chandrasekharapuram, we were practically woven into the matrix of the village, as all residents were owners of the three temples in the colony.
After wards, we spent several years in Delhi. Our daughters lived within a mile; again, we felt secure.
Now we live at home. Within a few days, we have become part and parcel of a small community, in the extreme East end of Chathakudam, dominated by the Sastha temple.
Every morning we all go to the temple, after a dip in the temple pond, which is at our front gate. This ritual is repeated in the evening, when the temple is well lit by oil lamps which we call chirag in the North. It is like an open bowl filled with oil, with a protruding wick made of threads, which burns slowly.
With inumerble lamps, it is a wonderful sight to watch. I used to see Hari warriar, who has just returned from work, pouring oil, dipping the wick and, when all lamps are ready, lighting them. Sometimes his daughter helps him. She knows computer software and helps me when I am in trouble.
Hari is an ideal character, always helpful to all. He is the kingpin of the temple committee which controls the affairs of the temple.
WhenI reach the bus stop, here it is the terminal and the distance is only five minutes leisurely walk from home, the bus conductor knows me and my destination. The vegetable vendor, the barber and the electrician – all know me. Some address me as “thirumeni”, as namboodiries are called by people of other castes.
It is a novel experience after retirement in 1992!
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