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.