Routines had no monotony, boredom was never in my vocabulary, I still cannot feel boredom, there’s so much to do, even when I am sitting still, I am planning of various things to do and I am always connecting to my loved ones in my thoughts. My mind keeps rolling out the film from the metal tin.
Love and care was all over when we grew up there weren’t any vested agenda for anyone, it was happy routines.
Whenever I was at Kayamkulam I slept with Valiammachy either on the floor or on the single bed near the Kettinakam where there was no fan.
I was one of the few, who never wanted fan and hence I slept with her all the time and I loved to tuck to the warmth of her stomach full of njorivu (pleats) and feel so protected and cared for.
Milking the cow was the first activity at home. Karavakkaran Gopi came in his bicycle with no stand at 3am. Valiammachy kept the kalam (pot) and the small steel vessel with ghee ready to give Gopi as soon as he rings the bell of his bicycle. I don’t remember anyone waking up other than both of us and I loved to accompany her and sit by the Kaalathinna and watch the activity.
It started with the breaking news of the village, and then washing the akidu (bosom) of the cow with the water in the pot and then applying the ghee and he starts milking. The “skreemmm skreemmmmm” sound of the milk touching the pot was a strange BGM, then it will be foam and bubbles all over.
Valiammachy would be pampering the cow talking to her and I would be helping with the hay that is already in front. The dear Cows would be standing at ease and allowing the activity as though it is her duty to provide all of us with the best of milk ever. I have never tasted anything better any time. It was sweet and thick could drink any amount without blinking; I loved the milk at home.
Once Gopi hands over the milk, and the ghee, we go inside and he goes with whatever breaking news he got from this point to the next.
We go back to sleep and everyone wakes up to Valiappachen’s Christian devotional song which he sings and walks to the kettinakam – Athiraavile thirusannidhi anayunnoru samaye, he takes the kindi (bronze vessel with a spout) and use the water to wash up and Valiammachy would have boiled the fresh milk from her darling cows.
Invariably the first conversation of the day would be the breaking news of Gopi, and the train which did not pass on time, or went on time, and the regular enquiry, kizhakkottullathu poyo? Padinjattullathu Poyo? Whether the train to the East or West has gone.
The byproducts of milk were so tasty, I have never in my life tasted any better than the one at Kayamkulam. The starter for the yoghurt was divine. I still continue to make my own yoghurt. I thank my doctor’s mother in law who kindly gave me the starter.
With Valiammachy, she had Nalan’s hands when it came to cooking, she made the perfect yoghurt, it was a dark mud pot and it’s a wee little starter that is needed to ferment a whole pot of luke warm milk.
When I made yoghurt in Antartica, it surprised a few, who believed yoghurt can only grow on department store shelves. When I showed them how to make the yoghurt they were flabbergasted.
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