Eureka!
3 decades melted away, for 2 of my remarkable seniors from TKM College of Engineering, in two of the world’s largest democracies, India and USA, can I say 2 melting pots of the world… I am happy it started with 2 and I am sure there are more who got connected and shared life.
Our Missy’s name was Viera, I never knew her name until such time we had to give her an invitation card for a wedding. Those days we wrote the address, starting with the persons name, then a beautiful house name, the name of a junction, village, and last district, state, country and PIN code. It went as Mr. or Mrs. or Smt Dhakshaayani Amma Avarkal, Chembakasseril, Chemmanmukku, Pattathanam P.O., Quilon, Kerala, India, 691019. With all the reforms now and name changes, house names became XYZ Nagar 123, Quilon became Kollam, and we all seemed to have relocated ourselves to unknown destinations. Some times I feel when people run out of ideas, they get hold of the most beautiful things in life and change them, when I see the new cars on the road their bonnets and bumpers, its the same feel.
Quilon (Kollam) our home town, had a gate so prominent like the India Gate in Bombay (Mumbai), it was right at the entrance of a world of its own, Tangasseri which was an abode for the Anglo Indian community, we were very blessed to have Missy near our home in Kadappakkada which was kilometers and kilometers away from Tangasseri. We would never have been exposed to the A,E,I,O,U if she was in Tangasseri.
Missy had a daughter, a real beauty queen. We called her Hermoine Teacher, I don’t think she taught us anything, she was young and studying in Fatima College. We still called her Teacher, out of respect. I cannot imagine any one of us ever calling anyone older by their name. There was a trigger of conscience that was embedded in our system, and i love that trigger which guides me to live by my ethics fearlessly.
Hermoine Teacher passed away before she reached her forty. It was a heart breaking moment for all. Later in my life when I saw the BBC documentary “Queenie” in Africa, I remembered her and missed her a lot too.
Missy wore skirts and tops, generally tops with a V neck, and the skirts were all umbrella cut, made of thick fabric like a cross stitch material, with square checks, in deep grey and navy blue. She made beautiful frocks for all of us and was determined to make us look like flower girls all the time, I strongly believe Anita’s acquaintance with her family for few more years, triggered the talent in her to make her do what she does now selflessly, adorn people with lovely “Veshangal” (Sarees, Churidars, Dress, Tops and Skirts and what not)
Missy, was a stout lady; I always wondered how her stomach was so flat, and her bottom so very big. Especially when she sat on the chair both sides would overflow from the chair. (Well nothing to match the disappearing waist line of Singapore Airline Airhostess! They always stopped my breath, rather than take my breath away). She cut her hair short, those days it was called bobbed hair, it was so curly, she hid her pencil and perhaps the ruler also in the curls. When she spoke, there was too much air coming with her sound, I felt she had a sore throat all the time, it was so husky, but her accent was meticulous and none of us ever spoke Manglish. Our English accent was moulded by Missy, without any accent for a life time. We never sang English. So much more until tomorrow..
We are going to connect to all our dear friends and their family and their friends and make a bond so deep we can spread our giggles far and wide…
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