Letters to my aunt

I remember the days when I loved writing letters to my aunt Latha. Malayalam was her favorite subject and she was the only one in our family who truly loved poetry. She even wrote beautiful poems of her own.

I used to pour my heart into those long letters and I enjoyed every moment of writing them. The wait for her replies felt endless. The joy when my dad returned from work with a letter in hand and it felt like heaven. Since our apartment didn’t have a mailbox, all her letters came to his office. Sometimes, she would slip in colorful feathers between the pages. They were tiny treasures to me.

That’s where my love for writing began.

Even with all the technology today, emails, texts, instant everything nothing has ever come close to the magic of those handwritten letters. The feeling they brought is something I still can’t quite put into words.

A summer to remember…

It was always my dad's dream to build a house in Kerala, and that dream finally came true when I was in 4th grade. The house was designed by an engineer in India, but the ideas and requirements were all my dad's. He put his heart into every little detail.

Our summer vacation that year was extra special. Not only were we flying to India, but it was also time for the housewarming and Onam happened to fall around the same time. My parents were thrilled.

Back then, our house was one of the biggest in that beautiful, quiet village. Today, of course, the place has changed a lot. It’s more like a busy little city now, with much bigger houses everywhere. But back then, our home really stood out.

Since Dad was working in the Gulf (UAE), people called him "Gulf Kaaran." In those days, anyone who came from the Gulf was treated with a lot of respect and royalty. 

What I loved most about those days was how simple and kind people were. There was no show-off or attitude like you see so often now. We had maids and helpers at home. Though many people called them by name or by caste, my parents taught me to call them Uncle and Aunty. They made sure I treated everyone with respect.

That summer was also when I became very close to my aunt, Latha Kunjamma, my mom's youngest sister. She was just 18 and still in college. She pampered me like anything. One day, she asked my mom if she could take me along to visit a nearby friend with her college group. It took a little convincing, but mom finally said yes, as long as we got back safely and on time. That little outing meant so much to me.

She used to tell me funny stories from her college, Shastamkotta College. I still remember how she talked about monkeys stealing their lunch boxes and chasing the students around. I would imagine everything like a movie playing in my head. It all seemed so fun. I started to look forward to going to college one day too.

Mom had five siblings. Latha was the youngest. I had often hear that she was just three when my parents got married. The brother closest to her in age was Uncle Raju. He was super chatty and used to draw tiny doodles for me with a ballpoint pen on white cotton handkerchiefs. They were simple, but I treasured them.

My grandmother, my mom's mom was a wonderful cook. She loved feeding the whole family and made sure to cook all of my dad's favorite dishes every single day. Everything she made tasted amazing. Visiting her home felt like a festival filled with delicious food, warmth, and laughter. Everyone was so happy and excited to have us there.

Dad's tamily came too. Though my mom was always a little reserved, she got along well with everyone. People respected her and I have never heard anyone say a bad word about her even after all these years.

As the housewarming day approached, Dad and Mom invited close relatives. They even asked Dad's mother, my other grandmother to stay in the new house for the night. She was a strong woman, but I was always a little scared of her. I didn't know her well and she was much closer to my older brother. Actually, most of the relatives seemed to love my brother more. Maybe because he was the first grandchild and a boy. I often felt like I didn't fit in.

Onam came a few days later and everyone from Dad's side came home to celebrate. I still remember the house full of guests. But honestly, I felt a little left out. I was quiet, shy, and always hiding behind my mom's saree pallu. I didn't know many people, so struggled to connect. The only person who truly made me feel safe and seen was my Aunt Latha. From that trip, we shared a bond that stayed strong for years.

That vacation in Kerala was one of the most memorable times of my childhood. It wasn't just about a new house, it was about new memories, sweet bonds and feeling the warmth of family.

Night walks and Nightmares

We moved to Sharjah when I was in 3rd grade. It was mainly because my dad wanted my brother to have a separate room to study. The rent in Dubai was twice as much as in Sharjah. But we continued studying at our school in Dubai.

It was our first summer vacation in the new flat in Sharjah. That’s when my habit of sleepwalking started. I didn’t know how or why it began.

In the second bedroom, my brother had a big study table and a bed. Next to that was a large cupboard we both shared. My bed was beside it. The balcony was also attached to our bedroom.

Some nights, I had a terrible dream. I would see a creepy old man, covered in blood, making strange hand movements. Black and white spirals would appear around me. He tried to hypnotize me, and I felt very scared. That’s all I remembered.

The next morning, my mom would tell me how I came to her room at night, knocked on the door, and said I had finished my homework and wanted to sleep there.

This continued for a couple of months. Sometimes I talked to my brother in my sleep, but mostly I went to my mom. Over time, the sleepwalking stopped on its own.

Later, my mom told me they used to hide the apartment's main door key under the money plant soil. They were afraid I might leave the house during the night.

But even now, that old man’s face still haunts me. I am scared of him. I still wonder who he was.

Sindbad, cassettes and Summer breaks

I remember the vacations we had in Dubai. Unlike in India, summer holidays there were in July and August…the hottest months. They only began after our first term exams. 

During the break, Mom and Dad would ask us to clean our cubbies. There wasn’t much to do apart from playing in the corridor with my one close friend who lived nearby. 

Honestly, vacations in Dubai were quite boring. We rarely went out, and for my mom, it was the busiest time of the year. She used to say that the rest of the year ran smoothly, but vacations turned everything upside down. 

One thing we all enjoyed was watching movies. This was back in the 1980s and 90s, when video cassette tapes were still around. We had a membership at a Malayali cassette shop. Every time we rented a movie, they would note the name and date in a big register. We loved rewatching old Malayalam comedy movies. The 1980s and early 90s were truly the golden years of Malayalam cinema- with unforgettable comedies and timeless classics by legends like Padmarajan and M.T. Vasudevan Nair. Back then, I wasn’t a big fan of classic films, but now I am a die-hard fan. “Thoovanathumbikal” is right at the top of my favorites list. 

My favorites in those days were the Mohanlal–Sreenivasan combo. I must have watched Nadodikkaattu at least a hundred times. And of course, movies like Kilukkam. Even now, I am a fan of those kinds of films, and I still feel they were the best.

Tom & Jerry was the best… and then Popoyee the sailor man, where the guy suddenly gets muscles as soon as he eats spinach, which was kind of yuck for me back then. But now spinach is one of my favorite veggies. 

Another fond memory is of Sindbad, an arcade zone for kids in Al Ghurair Centre. It one of the few big malls at the time. Every week, Dad and Mom would drop my brother and me there while they went for a walk. 

Back then, Channel 33 was the main TV channel before Malayalam channels and satellite TV came along. They aired Hindi movies every Thursday at 10:30 PM, and my brother and I never missed them. Fridays were weekends in the Middle East, so it was the perfect time. I also loved watching The Crystal Maze, a game show hosted by Richard O’Brien. It had teams completing challenges in different historical settings to collect time crystals. It was fascinating! 

But the best part of vacation? Not having to wake up early in the morning.

The crunch I still remember

In my childhood memories, there’s a bakery van that still brings a smile to my face. It used to park on the side of the road, across from a row of shops in Ghusais. This was sometime in the late 1980s though I must have been just four or five years old then.

The van was white, with the bakery’s name printed on the side, though I can’t recall what it was. It only came once a week, but that one day felt special. My family and I would walk over, and inside the van were neat rows of freshly baked bread, soft buns, and my absolute favorite freshly fried potato chips.

I was always fascinated by the sight of so many delicious things inside a single van. My parents would buy fresh bread and without fail, a packet of chips each for my brother and me. The chips came in a clear packet with a picture of a smiling baker and the bakery’s name printed in both Arabic and English along with the expiry date.

Those chips were something else. They were thin, golden, perfectly crisp, and just salty enough. You could even taste the light oil they were fried in, which somehow made them even better. To this day, I have never found chips that taste quite like those. Nothing ever came close.

Little Artist, big imagination

 

I have loved drawing ever since I was a little child. One of my earliest and most repeated drawings, starting from when I was just three years old, was a simple landscape—a cozy house, a tree on one side, a big flower, mountains in the background, and the sun peeking from one corner of the sky, surrounded by fluffy clouds.

The second picture I often drew was of an airplane. It was a simple sketch with a door, lots of windows, two wings, and a little compartment at the back. Every time my parents or family friends saw it, they would ask me what that back part was. I would sweetly say, “That’s the bathroom!” They would laugh and smile at how innocently serious I was.

I had this funny little habit—wherever we went, whether it was the airport, a shopping mall, or someone’s house—I always wanted to use the bathroom. When I was around six or seven, I shared a little dream with my mom, “I wish there was a suitcase bathroom. We could carry it with us, and whenever we needed it, it would turn into a bathroom. Then, after using it, we could fold it back into a suitcase.”

Looking back, it’s such a silly idea—but so full of childhood imagination and innocence.

 

The Day English found me…

I was sent to preschool when I was about 3 and half, without knowing a word of English. I don’t remember everything clearly, but some moments still stay with me. 

That morning, my mom woke me up early, dressed me, and gently forced me to drink milk before sending me off in a school bus that stopped right in front of our apartment building. Everything felt so new and unfamiliar.

As the bus drove through a few turns and a roundabout, I felt sick and ended up throwing up. I was so embarrassed and didn’t know what to do. When I reached school, the teachers asked me something in English—but I couldn’t understand a word. I tried to explain in Malayalam, but they didn’t understand either. I remember they were North Indian teachers.

They were kind, though. They cleaned me up and sprayed a floral scent on me. Preschool hours were short—just four hours—and soon I was back home, telling my mom everything that had happened. That night, I remember her sharing the story with my dad, and together they taught me a few simple English words I would need every day.

I wasn’t even four, but that day stayed with me. It’s been almost 37 years, and I still remember it so clearly.