It was one of those pleasant, special nights in Coimbatore. My mother had prepared her signature pepper chicken curry to go with chapatis. For me, the chicken was the main dish with chapatis on the side. Most of my dinner was spent chewing and enjoying the juicy chicken that had blended perfectly with the spices. My mother prepared this dish with the best of spices, cooking it on a medium flame to bring out the flavors. Shredded coconut was added to the mix and the heating continued until the coconut turned golden brown. By then the aroma would fill the house, triggering a happiness born of the expectation of good food. She then ground the mix using a grinding stone to a mildly coarse paste. For her, using a grinding stone was important to get the right texture. The chicken was then mixed with this paste and cooked on a low flame with minimal water and additional ingredients like shallots and curry leaves. Though the preparation was time-consuming, the end result was a treat for the taste buds. Normally I had to share most of this dish with my elder sister, but she had recently married and this was the first time my mother was making the dish after her marriage. This gave me every reason to enjoy the extra chicken that would have been my sister’s share.

When eating at home and enjoying the dish, there were no restrictions on eating etiquette. Even the bones weren’t spared and were chewed to the maximum extent — without inhibition. The sound of bones being ground by my molars was suddenly interrupted by the telephone. Mobile phones were a rarity then, and our landline was often at the mercy of the weather and the telephone department. Though the telephone didn’t have caller ID, there was a feature to distinguish distant calls from local ones — the long ring. Since most of our extended family lived in Kerala, these calls had a higher priority. Receiving phone calls during dinner was normally avoided, especially when the family favorite chicken curry was on the menu. However, this call had the long ring and had to be answered. It meant someone had to stop feasting and pick up the call. In such situations my dad usually answered. After an initial hesitation, he picked up.

My dad was not a big “talker.” His phone conversations were usually short — “hmm… hmmmm… ok… hmm… bye.” His facial expressions were even worse: completely blank, not giving away any indication of his emotions. This used to happen even during long conversations. On one earlier occasion he was totally silent, eyes closed and face blank; we assumed he’d fallen asleep during the call. Later we realized he was listening intently.

This call, however, was different. There were more “Oh!” and “Ok” than “hmm.” His expression wasn’t blank; mild emotion showed — a strong indication something serious had happened. “We are starting immediately!” was the last thing he said. There was total shock and silence around the table. The chicken bone dropped from my mouth. My mother stopped eating and rushed to find out what had happened. The atmosphere filled with the fear of something serious and inevitable.

I could see my dad’s eyes were moist.

“Dad has left us!” he stuttered.

The night was long, and a long journey lay ahead. After four phone calls, a taxi and driver were arranged to pick us up from home. The taxi — a white Ambassador — arrived sharply at 3:00 a.m. The driver, in his late 30s, was pious. In Coimbatore, piety reflected the culture of the Kongu region. Though it was early in the morning, he was well groomed. He wore a clean white shirt and white pants as his uniform. His hair was neatly combed and he had applied vibhuti to his forehead.

We had specifically asked for an Ambassador, as it seemed to accommodate an infinite number of people. The car was a workhorse for all situations and could handle any terrain and any load presented to it. We needed such a vehicle because we were not sure of the situation at the destination or along the way. My sister’s house was on the way in Palakkad; by the time we reached there, she and my brother-in-law were getting ready. Sensing a small break in the journey, our taxi driver bought a jasmine flower garland for his car. For him, the car was not just a machine but his main source of income. It took care of his family, so it was natural for him to worship and take care of it. The garland was placed around the small Vinayaka statue on his dashboard. A couple of incense sticks were lit and placed in the car as an offering to Vinayaka to remove obstacles along the way. This also doubled as fragrance.

We proceeded to our destination at the top speed possible. I sat in the front, sandwiched between the gear stick and my dad. Though my dad was emotional, he was in control. His mind was occupied with various thoughts, and he didn’t sleep at all during the journey. My mother, sister and brother-in-law sat in the back. My brother-in-law was new to our family and this news came as an abrupt interruption in the early phase of their married life.

Five hours of travel had made my stomach grumble. We didn’t even stop for tea. Sleep would have helped, but on Kerala’s pothole-ridden roads my head kept swaying from one side to another.

“Your head might just pop out of your body,” remarked my sister. The swaying increased alarmingly, and my head swung faster than a pendulum. For a moment I pictured myself as headless, which was not a pleasant sight. I had to stay awake.

“Do you need any help?” I asked the driver. The gear stick was the only thing within reach. Given the road condition, the driver was agitated and shifting gears regularly. “Maybe I could help change gears for you.”

“You can watch me do it. The roads are just not good.” The driver had to be polite, but basically it meant “Do not disturb me.”

I had managed to while away the time and we were about to reach the destination. Dad had a lump in his throat and could not guide the driver properly. My sister put the finishing touches to her hair and my mother adjusted her sari. As the car slowed, something seemed amiss. There was no crowd as we had expected, and things looked perfectly normal. We soon got out of the car and, as we entered the house, we were shocked to see my grandfather seated in his rocking chair, healthy and alive.

Dad couldn’t believe his eyes.

“I thought you had died!” he exclaimed to his father.

“Don’t expect to see that so soon! I have a few more years left with me!”

My mother was furious with my dad. My brother-in-law had a good laugh at the circumstances. I was relieved that we could return sooner than expected. But we were clueless as to what had gone wrong.

Dad recollected the phone conversation: his brother-in-law had called the previous night.

“Dad has left us!” was the first statement from the other side.

It was more like a telegram over the phone. My dad’s emotions had taken over by then. The caller had continued, “It was all of a sudden. We took him to hospital but he was dead before reaching the hospital.” There was a brief moment of silence before my dad ended the conversation, saying we would be starting immediately.

There are some fears that we carry in our minds. Even the slightest disturbance to our moments of happiness can bring out these fears and affect our thoughts and actions.

Based on the phone conversation, my dad had assumed that my grandfather had died. However, it was a case of mistaken identity: my dad’s brother-in-law had called to inform that his (the caller’s) father had died.

“Oh, Daddy!” my sister and I exclaimed.

“You should have at least verified.”

My dad was overcome with embarrassment over the goof-up. Soon the news spread through the entire village. Everyone had a good time visiting us and sharing a laugh. All along I kept wondering when we would start our journey back to Coimbatore and when my mother would cook her signature dish again!

When eating at home and enjoying the dish, there is no restrictions on eating etiquette. Even bones were not spared, and were chewed to the maximum extent possible – without any inhibition. The sound of the grinding of chicken bones by the molar teeth was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Mobile phones were a rarity then and the landline telephone connection was often at the mercy of weather and telephone department. Though the telephone did not have a caller ID, there was a feature to distinguish a call from distant location to that of a local call – the long ring. A lengthy telephony ring indicated that the call was from a distant location. Since most of our extended family was residing in Kerala, these calls had a higher priority. Receiving phone calls during dinner were normally avoided, especially when the family favorite chicken curry was on the menu. However, this call had the long ring and had to be attended to. It also meant that one of the family members had to stop feasting on the chicken and attend the call. In such situations, it was usually my dad’s responsibility to pick the call. After the initial hesitation, my dad decided to pick up the call.

My dad is not a big “talker”. His phone conversations are usually short like “hmm … hmmmm … ok … hmm .. bye”. His facial expressions are even worse, completely blank, not giving away any indication regarding his emotions. This used to happen even during long conversations. On an earlier occasion, he was totally silent with his eyes closed and his face blank that we assumed that he had slept over the call. But later we realized that he was totally into the call and listening out the other end with complete attention! This call was however different. There were more “Oh!”, “Ok” than “hmm”. His facial expression was not exactly blank. There were emotions visible though mildly and this was a strong indication that something more serious had happened. “We are starting immediately!” was the last statement he made. There was total shock and silence around the food. The chicken bone just dropped from my mouth. My mother stopped eating and rushed immediately to understand the situation. The atmosphere was filled with a fear of something serious and inevitable!

I could see that my dad’s eyes were moist.

“Dad has left us!” he stuttered.

The night was long, and a long journey lay ahead in front of us. Exactly four phone calls later, a taxi with a reliable driver was arranged to pick us up from home. The taxi, a white Ambassador car, arrived sharply at 3:00 am. The driver was in his late 30s and was pious. In Coimbatore, being pious reflected the culture and the tradition of the Kongu region. Though it was early in the morning, he was well groomed. He wore clean white shirt accompanying a white pant which was his uniform. His hair was neatly combed and he had applied vibhuti on his forehead.

We had specifically asked for an Ambassador car, as it seemed to accommodate an infinite number of people. The car was a work-horse for all situations and could handle any terrain and any load that was presented to it. We needed such a vehicle as we were not aware of the situation at the destination or along the way. My sister’s house was located on the way in Palakkad and by the time we reached there, she and my brother-in-law were in the final stages of getting ready for the journey ahead. Sensing a small break in the journey, our taxi driver decided to buy a jasmine flower garland for his car. For him, the car was not just a machine but it was his main source of income. The car took care of his family and it was natural for him to worship and take care of his car. The garland was placed around the small Vinayaka statue that was attached to his dashboard. Couple of incense sticks were lit and placed in the car as an offering to Vinayaka to remove all obstacles on the way. This also doubled up as car fragrance.

We were now proceeding to our destination at top speed possible. I was sitting in the front row, sandwiched between the gear stick on one side, and my dad on the other side. Though my Dad was emotional he was well within control. His mind was occupied with various thoughts and he did not have his customary sleep in the entire journey. My mother, sister and brother-in-law were seated in the back row. My brother-in-law was new to our family and this news came as a sudden break in the initial phase of their married life.

Five hours of journey had made my stomach grumble and mumble. We did not even stop for the customary tea. Sleep was the perfect way of getting over the hunger but with the pot-holes-ridden roads of Kerala, my head just kept swaying from one side to another.

“Your head might just pop-out from your body” remarked my sister. The swaying had increased alarmingly, and my head was swinging faster than a pendulum. For a moment I pictured myself as a headless person and the sight did not seem any good. I had to get rid of my sleep!

“Do you need any help ?” I asked the driver. The gear stick was the only one that was reachable for me. Given the road condition, I could see the driver all agitated and shifting gears regularly. “May be I could help change the gear for you”

“You can watch me do it. The roads are just not good!”. The driver had to be polite, but basically it meant “Do not disturb me”.

I had managed to bite away the time and we were about to reach the destination. Dad had a lump in his throat and could not guide the driver properly. Sister gave the finishing touches to her hair and my mom adjusted her sari. As the car slowed down, there was something amiss. There was no crowd that we had expected, and things seemed perfectly normal. We soon got out of the car and as we entered the house, we were shocked to see my grandfather seated in his rocking chair, all healthy and alive! Dad couldn’t just believe what he saw.

“I though you had died!”, he exclaimed to his father.

“Don’t expect to see that so soon! I have still some years left with me!” My mother was furious at my dad. Brother-in-law had a nice time laughing at the circumstances. And I was relieved that we could return sooner than expected. But we were clueless as to what had gone wrong.

Dad recollected the phone conversation for a moment. His brother-in-law had called up the previous night.

“Dad has left us!”, was the first statement from the other side.

It was more like a telegram over the phone. My dad’s emotions had taken over by then. The caller had continued, “It was all of a sudden. We took him to hospital but he was dead before reaching the hospital”. There was a brief moment of silence before my Dad ended the conversation informing that we would be starting immediately.

There are some fears that we carry in our minds. Even the slightest disturbance to our moments of happiness can bring out these fears that have a direct bearing on our thoughts and actions.

Based on the phone conversation, my Dad had come to the conclusion that my grandfather had expired. However it was a case of mistaken identity. My Dad’s brother-in-law had called to inform that his father had died!

“Oh Daddy!!”, I and my sister exclaimed.

“You should have at least verified.”

My dad was taken over completely by a sense of embarrassment over the goof-up. Soon the news spread to the entire village. All had a good time visiting us and having a nice laughter! All along I just kept wondering as to when we would start our journey back to Coimbatore and when my mother would cook her signature dish again!