Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.~From the television show The Wonder Years

It was in those early 80’s when TV was unheard of, children loved to fly kites , climb guava trees and drop stones into the well. My grandpa’s house had a couple of huge coconut trees at the entrance, planted by my grandma, a wooden gate built by my grandpa, a small garden with tomatoes, ladies finger and a small rose garden but the main attraction for me was the 2 guava trees (one bore white fruits and the other red fruits) and the drinking well. My Grandpa, Narayan married Lakshmi when India was young and photos were in black and white and 75 paisa was all that was needed to feed a family of 5, for a month. He was a carpenter and was in charge of a wood mill in Badravathi , working for the Wodeyars.He used to tell us about his experiences in the forest, where he had to lead the villagers to cut sandal wood and rosewood. Once he found a week old bison which he later donated to the Mysore Zoo. Fortunately as I type, I chance upon something that my grandpa handed over to my father, the rosewood Mantap and the 60 year old Swiss Wall Clock. Somehow I know that I will inherit them both :) We used to visit our grandparents every Saturday, after school and we always looked forward to eating my grandma’s dosa and mint chutney and listen to grandpa’s stories and some Ustad singing the bheem taal ( oh!! Carnatic music at its best,) from a radio kept next to the window and the Crompton Greaves fan keeping the room cool. I still vividly remember that Saturday afternoon, after eating glucose biscuits and ladoo’s, I sat on my grandpa’s lap and pestered him to tell me a story. My elder brother ran off to his friend’s house. He was in a skit and I was not allowed to watch them rehearse .grrr. My sister was still learning to ride a bicycle and I was not allowed to run beside the cycle.grr.It seems I distracted her,especially when I called out "look look a monkey riding a cycle , monkey riding a cycle."grrr. That’s how I found myself munching bikis on my grandpa’s lap. It was a dull afternoon made more duller by my full stomach and the carnatic music.He ruffled my hair and said"Do you know why grandma made ladoo’s ,today?". What would a 7 year old kid say , but " because she knew I was coming" :) , he chuckled in a way that only grandfather’s could, and looked out of the window, saw my grandma, pulling out weeds and toiling over her garden,and said " On this day some 40 year’s ago, I married your grandmother". And after a lot of coaxing , he agreed to tell me all about it. " It was a year when the whole of India was chanting the slogan QUIT INDIA and trying to get rid of the "British" from our sacred homeland.Gandhi was arrested for the nth time and I longed to make a trip to the Andaman to have a glimpse of the great man. I still remember clearly, as if it was yesterday, the day I met Lakshmi.It was a hot and stifling day and I was carrying out an errand for my father.I was supposed to deliver a rose-wood jewel box to Mr Murthy. It was late afternoon and I was lost and I was looking for someone who could direct me to my destination. I saw this young girl drawing water from a well and approached her. She had the most gorgeous braided black hair, which moved around like an elephant’s tail.I couldn’t see her face, I stood a few paces away and said," Namaste, I’ve come from a far off village and I’m thirsty , can you please give me some water". I was playing with my rubber dog "devil", well to tell the truth , I was bitting its tail .I looked up and found my grandpa smiling to himself.I raised my eyebrows and said"but grandpa why didn’t you ask the address ?" "Because my child , i was spellbound when she looked at me .I didn’t know what I was doing standing before the well and so I said the first thing that came into my mind. She appeared to have not heard my plea and was busy pulling the mud pot out of the well. I waited patiently still staring at her pleated long hair and smiling to myself. She turned around and it was at that time that I vowed to marry her. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She poured water into my cupped palms and I drank till I was full. "Thank you oh! Lady for quenching this traveler’s thirst." I stammered on, hoping to hear her voice" I have to deliver this box to Mr Murthy, do you know where he stays?" She lifted the pot on to her waist and walked away. I think I stood rooted on to the spot for more than 10 minutes, not sure of what to do next. The sound of a rumbling cart broke my reverie and I asked the farmer if he knew Mr. Murthy. The farmer replied that he infact worked for him and asked me to jump into his cart .After a mile or two, I saw a huge bungalow with a beautiful rose garden and a big tamarind tree. I was met by Mr. Murthy and we sat on the verandah and I gave him the handcrafted box. He was delighted and explained that this was a gift for his daughter. As I was about to take my leave, he asked me to wait and said "Can someone bring a cup of tea?" We chatted about the weather and the crops when a cup of tea was thrust in front of me. I was astonished. It was the girl that I had met at the well. I drank the sweet tea and causally asked Mr. Murthy "Was the box made for this young lady? ". He was busy fingering the intricate carvings and said " Oh no, my daughter Revathi,studies in school, she’s just 10 years old." That was Lakshmi, the daughter of the maali. She takes care of the rose garden and as you can see, she does a good job of it.She has magic in her hands" I smiled and placed the cup near the door and took my leave.I kept looking at the window hoping against hope that I could have a glimpse of her. Unfortunately for me, she never came to the window. I got home late in the night, still thinking of Lakshmi. I just couldn’t wipe her image out of my mind. Days passed and I was gifted another excuse to go to Mr. Murthy’s house and this time it was to deliver a beautiful Mantap for their family God, Lord Venkateshwara. Ramu our servant and I set off on a bullock cart and when we went past the well, my heart missed a beat. When we reached our destination, I met Mrs. Murthy, a pious and god fearing lady, who asked us to place the mantap inside the "pooja" room.Mr Murthy, had to travel to the neighboring village on some urgent land deal. After this was done, she invited us to lunch and we obliged her by accepting her offer. I was yet to catch a glimpse of Lakshmi and was a tad disappointed when Mrs. Murthy served us lunch. I was hoping that it would be Lakshmi. I made casual conversation and asked her about the rose garden and thanked the almighty for making this woman talkative. I learnt that Lakshmi was the only daughter of the gardener and her mother had passed away when she was 10 years old. She had completed her seventh standard with flying colors and her father was looking for a suitable groom to marry her off. It was at this point that I said "I would like to marry her". Mrs. Murthy was taken aback; she looked at me and smiled "Why don’t you ask her father? I’m sure he will agree". My heart lept with joy, and Ramu looked like he ate a green chilly. After a tense week, of convincing both my parents and Lakshmi’s father, the day of the marriage was decided and I was to wed Lakshmi at the Krishna temple. On the designated day we got up early and made our way to the temple. This was one of the most beautiful temples in the whole district. Situated on top of a hill with a Ashoka tree and a view of the surrounding villages, this was aptly named the Kailasagiri. The temple had a black idol of Krishna and the poojari was the only one who was allowed inside the sanctum. The little pond next to the tree, looked beautiful and the bunch of reddish pink lotus flowers just made it more stunning. Lakshmi was draped in a brown silk saree, with beautiful intricate designs, which I later found belonged to her mother and it carried with it a sentimental value. She looked up at me and smiled and I thought I was marrying goddess Lakshmi. To the sound of a nightingale singing and chants of the holy Vedas we got married. It was at this point of the story that I wanted to drink water, I jumped off grandpa's lap and ran into the kitchen to see my grandma looking out of the window, smiling, with tears running down her cheek.