Waiting for the past
I was four years old and waiting was so much fun those days. I used to wait on the doorstep for my grandfather to turn up after his work, he was a photographer by profession and used to work in a nearby studio at that point of time. I was his first and only grand daughter and was the apple of his eyes. Every evening when he returned home, he sure had a small packet made of newspaper which contained some delicacy or snack ‘palaharam’ , the sight of the packet , the smell of it and the glaze of oil on the paper were the main attraction for me. When he used to enter the house calling out my name, I jumped on to him , on his lap in a second and the packet would be mine. He would then sit down for his glass of tea, and some tea was served to me also , I would first concentrate on eating the snack , it might be ‘neyyappam’ or ‘unniyappan’, sometime a ‘pappada boli’ or a ‘madakkusa’ and the best days were when I got orange coloured , juicy jalebis. Once the savoring was over , I would t