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Bestowed Names - Rani Iyer "I trained as an ecologist and worked blissfully in forests of Western Ghats. Since then I have lived in many places in North America. I currently reside in Washington State. I find nature to be eternally fascinating and resilient. Likewise, places and people constantly renew their acquintance. Deep within each of us resides a new community of thoughts that have the power to uplift or pull us down as we process our daily reactions to events. In this series, I attempt snapshots of those moments."

Courtyard Vistas Series 2

Although many of us live at grannies home we all know each other well. We discern personal routine, favourite food, spice tolerance and general likes and dislikes. However, with a guest in our midst, we discover our similarities in many unexpected ways. Presence of a guest alters routine, and novel ideas from another place steeps into our life. With the exception of Grandpa, men smile and laugh more easily with strangers than family.

Grandma’s youngest brother, Jagadeeshwara, came today. He is broad, fair, and speaks with an echo. He has to fold himself to pass through the small carved door-frame. His hair is oiled and combed. Although he wears jewels on his fingers, wrist, and neck, he does not wear a shirt. And he laughs so often. It is strange to hear elders laugh.

At dawn we heard the jingle of a cart. My mother fetched water for drinking and washing the feet. Soon we heard the laughter, the deep echoing laughter, fill the house. Uncles and aunts vied with one another to unload the cart. Some escorted Jagadeeshwara to the heavy mahogany chair. Others unloaded the baskets of mangoes, flowers, coconut, jaggery, groundnut, and oil in no time. Uncles, aunts, even my mother, stood around him and piled him with questions.

"Mama, how was your journey?"

"Is this cart new?"

"How are everyone at home?"

"How are your children doing?"

"What a pleasant surprise!"

" Why did you not let us know about the trip?"

"When did you begin the journey?"

"Mother is bathing. She will say her prayers and start cooking…"

He greeted each of these questions with a short laugh. The laughter rolled out of his depth and twinkled in his eyes. Even as he admitted that he was tired and dying for a bath, his voice resonated.

Everybody vied to attend to his needs. Although Granny acknowledged him while serving breakfast and lunch, it wasn’t until the evening, while preparing coffee, that Grandma and Jagadeeshwara could speak alone. I was on the roof, close to the chimney. Granny and Jagadeeshwara were talking in codes.

"So, how is snake gourd?" she asked.

He said, "Fine, I should say."

"What about bitter gourd?"

He chuckled, "Not any sweeter."

"Jagadeesha, you see what I am saddled with!"

"Akka, it is not so bad. I am saddled with coconut and jackfruit."

"Really! I thought they were bright and kind kids."

"Not with snake gourd around."

"Imagine having a snake for mother!"

"She is not so bad, Akka."

"Here you go! Jumping to your wife’s defence again!"

"How is your health, Akka?"

"How are our parents?"

"Pumpkin is losing memory these days. Difficult to manage him in the shop!"

"Does garlic know this?"

"Of course! She is pungent as ever!"

"Chilli, they have struggled hard to built what you enjoy today."

"Must you still remember all of us by our nick names?"

"Don’t tell me you have forgotten mine?"

"Coriander is non offensive!"

"We earn the names our characters reflect!"

"Do you mean I am offensive?"

"You are the most spoilt of my brothers for sure!"

"How are your children and grandchildren?"

"Living to their natures."

"Has Shambu changed?"

"Can ladies finger ever lose its confusion?"

"How is the yield this year?"

"Good."

Soon Mahadeva and Sharanamma, my cousins, joined me to gather the dry coconut husks from the roof.

Later that evening, I heard Grandpa inquiring about folks.

"How is sweet Shankarappa’s garden?"

"The mangoes are now sent to Bombay and Bangalore!" replied Jagadeeshwara.

"How is Cycle Malappa?"

"He is planning to move to Dharwad after his daughter died."

"Tragedy!"

"His only child dying in child birth!"

"What news from zari Chennamma?"

"Her sons are now building roads."

"How is bangle Gowrakka?"

"Did you not hear about her death?"

"What? How?"

"People say she died of broken heart when her son and daughter-in-law left."

"I think Shambavi got some bangles from her. Ask your sister."

"Did you hear about Silly Siddalingeshwarappa’s lottery luck?"

"He must be rich now!"

"How is your friend Ticket Tippeswamy?"

"He better after Kottakal treatment."

"My father asked after Pundit Eswarappa."

"He is visiting Kashi."

"What about Visi?"

"What?"

"Viswanathappa…"

"What about him?"

"I was just inquiring…"

"Hmmm…"

As their conversation trailed off, I selected a few names. My younger cousin Nagamani was my first subject, "Hey butter fruit!"

She burst into tears.

"Call me what ever you want!" I pleaded.

"I don’t want to call you anything. I don’t want to talk to you!"

"Can I still call you butter fruit?"

"I hate you!"

When Granny heard this incident, she scolded me. It still rings in my ears!

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