All over again.
It was a hot and boring afternoon at Podanur. It was post-lunch period when we were not allowed to play outside; to sleep in the afternoon was something that we detested (wonder when I lost this) wholeheartedly. Sanjeev and I were at home, and were growing increasingly restless. Meena paati was outside, near the temple, watching traffic on Chettipalayam road chitchatting with sundry acquaintances, her focus probably on bullock carts passing on the road - to collect some fresh dung. I looked around and spotted my favorite copper pot ( chembu kudam ) - I had a liking for its naadam . It was empty and I immediately proceeded to retrieve it from under the cot, only to start playing my favorite percussions on it. I must say that I was the virtuoso/prodigy who was allegedly endowed with skills of the mridangam Kunjumani (Meena's favorite little brother, and renowned artiste) lineage. True to my reputation, I launched on an elaborate thaniyavarthanam . Sanjeev picked the brass pot...
Comments