Austerity - Subhashini Raghavan

One of the earliest and warmest memories cherished by my brother and myself are of a grand-uncle in deep Kerala, with whom we spent a couple of days of our summer holidays – a tall, bright-eyed, elderly man, who lived in a sparse, simple home up on a hill in the village. Even now, so many decades later, those memories remain as vivid as ever – of how he woke us up before dawn, gave us a little bit of umi-kari – coal made from burnt paddy husk plus salt – to brush our teeth, hoisted us on his shoulders while he walked briskly to the stream nearby against the cool wind, with the crisp, fresh fragrance of wild flowers filling our lungs. After a dip in the tingling, cool waters, we would go to the Krishna temple, where we would find several devotees, all freshly bathed with wet hair and sandal paste on their foreheads and we had our first food of the day – the holy water with the taste of basil (tulasi) and camphor offered by the priest into our cupped hands.

Grand-uncle spoke little, but it did not matter at all, we enjoyed those few hours with him so much that to date, so many decades later, the memories still fill us with the peace and warmth we enjoyed then.

© "Wake Up India" (July/Sept. 2004) published by The Theosophical Society, Adyar, Chennai 600 020. Website: www.ts-adyar.org. Reprinted with permission.

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