Family Heritage – My Favourite Things

We don’t always have to travel to seek stories; they are right there in our homes too. In “Stories From My Home“, I examine the many objects surrounding me at home and attempt to document and share the memories associated with them, one story at a time.

My maternal Paati (grandmother in Tamil) had only one request for relatives visiting Madurai — to bring back Captain Sandal Face Powder that was only available at the M.K. Azeez and Sons shop located in the West Tower Street outside the Meenakshi Temple. Once or twice a year, a few small tins of the face powder would be handed over to my thrilled grandmother by obliging relatives returning from Madurai.

Paati would get to work immediately. A newspaper would be spread out and the little tins of Sandal face powder would be emptied on it. Some ‘normal’ face powder (Ponds, Lakme, or whatever was available) would be added and then mixed and filled in 4 silver powder boxes — one each for my mother, her two sisters and my Paati herself.

Paati and her three daughters used only this face powder and each had her own silver powder box. When the powder box got empty, it would return to Paati for refilling. After Paati passed away in 1980, Amma took over the role of preparing the powder mix for her younger sisters and herself till they passed away, and then she would do it just for herself.
Continue reading “Stories from my home – 6: Captain Sandal Face powder” →

This true story begins more than a 100 years ago.

Every morning at dawn, in a small village of Southern Tamil Nadu, little Bala would set off to bathe in the Thamirabharani river with other girls in the street she lived in. She would carry bath oil in a little bronze pot, some payatham maavu (or green gram powder), and a change of clothes. Bathing was a fun and elaborate ritual that also involved play with all the other girls who came to the river with her.

Years went by. Bala grew up and got married and newer responsibilities meant she no longer had the time for the elaborate bathing ritual that she once followed; there was only time for a quick scrub and dip in the river. The oil pot soon fell into disuse and eventually became a plaything for her daughters.
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Bala’s daughters too grew up, got married and left the village to live in far off cities. The oil pot remained behind, abandoned and forgotten. Years later, while on a visit to the village, Bala’s oldest granddaughter saw it and immediately took a fancy to this oil pot and with Bala’s permission took it back with her. Continue reading “Stories from my home – 4: Bala’s oil pot” →