Grannies – sweet old ladies with their seemingly-odd mannerisms and unending love – all of us adore them! They mean a lot to us! Despite the entire hubbub about lack of respect/care given to the aged, grannies/grandpas enjoy a special status at most homes. Unlike what they show in the movies/TV shows et al, we don’t show the door to our grandparents, as far as I know. At least my parents and a lion’s share of adults shower a lot of respect and love to their parents! Actually, there’s this friend of mine who virtually refused to eat food for an entire week over the death of her beloved Grandfather – she (and her family) were so shell shocked at his sudden demise – such was the attachment  she shared with her grandpa.

No, in this post, I do not intend to talk about the cruelties meted out to senior citizens. I’m summarily against such acts, yes, and I’m all for showering love and care to the elderly at home (not at decrypt, money-minting ‘old age homes’!!). As the title suggests, I’m focusing on grannies in this post, or more specifically, a very special trait shared by all grannies, a very feminine trait apparently forced upon to them by God almighty, ostensibly embedded in all their genes as they popped out of their mothers’ wombs. Frankly speaking, this trait is not just restricted to the elderly, but it becomes prominent in old age, due to some inscrutable reason – perhaps due to some enhancement in mental capabilities or even sheer joblessness.

It’s a proven fact that Grannies virtually win hands-down, when it comes to GOSSIPPING!

As I said, even modern science is at a total loss to explain this phenomenon! Perhaps, some anthropologist should do a research paper on this topic. Check out any home at any part of the world, grannies would be a long step ahead of other female residents in the family when it comes to gossiping! They’d get all news hot-delivered and they’d be the first to break it to the other younger members of the family. There’s some inter-granny communication mechanism to facilitate it. Perhaps, grannies develop invisible antennae which use some intracellular data transmission algorithm (with speeds that kick the shits out of even TCP/IP), transferring data at speeds to the tune of many Gigabits per second. Had it not been for the reduced efficiency of the ‘data-transfer’ (yes, like in Chinese whispers – the listener ‘receives’ a message that lacks the slightest resemblance with the ‘transmitted data’), they could’ve used it for the next version of Internet!

I wasn’t aware of this Inter-granny Communication Protocol (IgCP – for all your geeks! ), until I heard my sister’s experience – which was indeed astounding, for want of a better word! Her experience  wasn’t exactly one in a million, a fact assured by multitudes of similar incidents narrated by other acquaintances. Needless to say, my sister bore the brunt of a very devastating IgCP transmission and it took me an hour of talk to console her. Whew.

The story goes like this. Lachu a.k.a Lakshmi (my first cousin) goes to visit her best friend Gayathri, a day before she leaves to Chennai for higher studies. Now, Gayathri (a.k.a. G3! Yes, crazy nicks! ) is Lachu’s best friend. That is, if you see one of them alone, chances are that, the other person would be somewhere in a hundred square metre radius, anytime. So close, they were. They lived close to each other too; a fact that forever bolstered their sixteen year old companionship!

Needless to say, most of G3’s relatives have camped at her place, taking turns to ‘bid her goodbye’ (read: ‘lament her absence to the point of no-return’!)  As Lachu hopped into G3’s room with her usual freewheeling charm, three grannies were competing to cuddle/kiss/pinch-her-cheek/caress-her-hair/advise her. Poor ol’ G3 was totally dazed with eyes rolling, as if in death row! Lachu’s arrival was too pleasant a surprise for her that she broke away with all her might and ran over to her buddy in capricious joy. That was when this salt-and-pepper haired granny curiously eyed Lachu, and beckoned to her with a smile. Servile and respectful that Lachu is, she goes to the granny and sits by her, at the place previously occupied by G3 and gives that charming sweet variant of her smile to the granny. This granny happens to be G3’s dad’s mother’s uncle’ aunt’s oldest daughter’s niece’s cousin, btw. Meanwhile, G3, exasperated, realizes what’s about to transpire and tries to warn her buddy, only in vain. The prey had fallen in the trap!

Granny: “Hey, you are Lakshmi right?”

Lachu (surprised): “Yes!”

Granny: “And you’re from the Earath house, near that Gopinathan Nair’s house?”

Lachu (dumbfound): “Yeah ammumma, you are right. I’m…”

Granny: “Your mom is Shobha no, and your dad is in the Gulf. How’s your sister doing?”

Lachu is now truly out of her mind, for this ammumma is from another part of the state and is visiting G3’s house for the first time! She has all the news in her fingertips! Whoa!

Granny: “Don’t you know Gopi?”

Lachu: ”Gopi?”

Granny: “Yeah, that’s right. Gayu mol’s (G3) cousin Gopi? The guy who’s doing his MBBS in Bangalore?”

Lachu: “Er… yeah, I do. I’ve seen him once or twice.”

Granny: “You guys talk a lot eh?”

Lachu: “Er… Not rea..”

Granny: “You guys did a party together when he touched down last year?”

Lachu (now totally aghast): “NNNOO…”

Granny: ”Oh, I guess you were great friends (<- special vocal emphasis) until a while back right?”

Granny 2 : “Hey, she’s blushing!”

Granny 3: “I think she’s sweating too! ”

The fourth granny concurred to the opinion of her compatriots, while the first was now clasping and caressing Lachu’s right palm, casting menacing glances. And to add fuel to the fire, Lachu’s mom entered the room at that very opportune moment. She too stood surprised at all the ‘allegations’.

It took some very spirited tactics from G3’s part to extricate my poor ol’ sis out of the situation! The fact of the matter was that, Lachu barely knew this Gopi guy. They’d met at some random marriage reception and they’d exchanged pleasantries as they sat and ate together – that was a year or so ago. Some granny had noted them sitting together and yes, and urban gossip legend (in IgCP, nonetheless) was born!  And my poor ol’ sis – she lost all her alluring charm for two days straight!

So, the next time you see a calm and placid granny, take a closer look, and ESCAPE! They’re ninjas in disguise!

“I want Marlboro!”

Raghav’s words were loud and vigorous enough to scare the living wits out of Sushil and I.  Raghav was Sushil’s friend. The two of us were on our way to CCD after a particularly tiresome day. That was when  a slightly-overweight guy in blue Reebok tees and a queer gait, suitably accompanied by a a steady stream of smoke bellowing upward from his mouth approached us from the opposite side of the road – Raghav. Chaddi buddies, Sushil greeted Raghav with a bear hug (only before grabbing the smoldering cigarette from his mouth and discarding it – much to Raghav’s chagrin) and reprimanded him for smoking publicly in his area!! Image problems, yes!! Now, if you didn’t know, Sushil,  Raghav and I are the biggest hypocrites Planet Earth has seen till date. You’ll know why, soon enough!

Now, it would be a gross understatement to call Raghav an ‘addict’ – he’s a class apart! A ‘clean’ guy until a few months back, his addiction was spurred by jobless days at an equally jobless internship at a company that offered free cigarettes even to passing visitors! Since then, there was no looking back. He’s tried all brands, lived even with tiny butts of used cigarettes when severly afflicted by the melt‘smoke’down ( fund-shortage due to cigarette bills amounting to thousands!), and even perfected all those astounding tricks of smoke-exhalation you see on TV. Yes, the world’s first professional smoker with a GPA of 9.2 (yeah, studies were always Priority #1! )

Until lately, Raghav too had a squeaky clean image at home, like Sushil. Only to lose it by succumbing to his addiction. Unable to suppress his withdrawal syndrome, he went out to get his daily puff and finished a whole pack in a matter of minutes, inexorably forgetting to disguise the acrid smell! His mom was quick to identify the odor and he had to vow that he wouldn’t take another puff.

The vow was broken the very next day, as he conveniently got himself a ‘Wills’, on his way back home after dropping off his sister at a reputed IIT coaching centre near CCD. That was when we met this dude. He mouthed the sudden urge to have perhaps the world’s most popular brand of cigarettes – his favourite, for the sake of stress release, he said. The mention of  ‘Marlboro’ set the ball rolling.  Sushil was a carbon copy of his chaddi-buddy, sort-of. But he hadn’t smoked in a while, and his image was still intact. He too wanted to get a high, and with firm resolve he seconded Raghav and proclaimed the mission – The Quest for Marlboro!

The term ‘quest’ in this context might seem hyperbolic, but yeah, Trivandrum is a very sleepy town, if you didn’t know! One still had to go the long contorted route to get a piece of ‘decent’, branded stuff. We didn’t know where to start off, but we were sure to find what we wanted, Kowdiar was the place to be in! We thought we’d start off with the melting pot of  ‘hanging-outers’ – The venerable CCD!

We’d barely walked over to CCD, when Sushil found this pack of guys smoking, standing next to a car. Before we could do anything, he ran over to one of  them and asked:

“Dude, you studied in my school right? Isn’t your name Sidharth?”

Sid: “Yup, that’s me. And hey, long time bro! “

Sushil: “Dude, where in TVM would you find a Marlboro? Pretty damn urgent!”

Sid: “Just head over to Grand Bazaar, at Style Plus. You’d find your stuff! All brands under the sun… you name it!”

Sushil: “Thanks a million, dude. You’re a lifesaver!”

I could see Raghav’s face light up in glee. So was Sushil’s. Thus, we walked through Belhaven Gardens (yea, the pee-place! ) and walked over to Devaswam board junction. They knew about the pee-story (which, ironically happened hardly a few days back) and were pulling my legs. I did my best to divert their attentions, non-smoker that I am. Pro-debater that Sushil is, he started quoting from “Thank You for smoking!” and other pro-smoking stuff. I had to shut up!! The dog’s tail would forever be curly! (പട്ടീടെ വാല്… ).

After a few minutes of walk, we reached Grand Bazaar. By now, Sushil had lost all his initial gusto for fear of image. Even Raghav had lost his courage, as a result of which, I had to lead the pack into the store. To my friends’ glee, there, all those packets were stacked right near the counter, by the wall! They were ogling at them the same way the three of us stared at this hot babe at Belhaven Gardens! Marlbro, Davidoff, B&C… all of ‘em were there, stacked in neat plastic-coated packets.

Raghav was far from satisfied, though. The packet that read “Marlbro” had a subtitle which read “lights”. As the name meant, it didn’t have the ‘kick’! He started a semi-fight with the salesgirl over the lack of Marlboro and even pleaded with her. By now, all the customers were staring at us! Sushil, with his ‘image’ problem, coaxed the dude into buying the Davidoff. Then again, our stingy Raghav tried the sales girl to sell him just a couple of loose cigarettes. The lady was visibly angry when she said no, so Raghav and Sushil shared money and bought a Rs 110 – 20 cigarette Davidoff packet! This is how it looked:

Sushil and the davidoff: Yeah, smokers die young. These guys never understand!

Anyways, we ran out of the store after the purchase – only to realize another folly. There was no lighter/matches to light the cigarette with! Raghav went inside again in search for a lighter but alas… The classic ‘water-water-everywhere’ scenario! A belligerent  ’പെട്ടിക്കടക്കാരന്‍’ (shop keeper) came to the rescue with ‘kadak’ matchsticks. Then came the problem of  ‘where to smoke’. The ‘Jaggus Kitchen’ right opposite to Style Plus was the answer. It housed a baskin robbins too! However, the very ‘friendly’  rates forced us to retreat – to a nondescript by-lane! (I was reminded of the ‘pee ‘incident in the recesses of a similar lane!) Then, like cannibals feasting on human bodies, they ripped open the packets and wildly picked up those objet’ d death!

Luck clearly wasn’t favoring them even now. Lighting up the matches was a hard job – the wind was blowing high and fast. Sushil now made up stories of how he lighted cigarettes amidst high winds. Surprised at the magnitude of that blatant lie, perhaps, Lord Vayu pulled the winds back and the cigaretted were lighted. It was fun to see the dudes exhale air!! Raghav and Sushil had very distinct styles of blowing smoke rings in the air! Sushil’s lips contracted to a very funny form as he did that – was damn funny!! Now, both of them started the next part of the bluffing saga. Sushil started by boasting that he’d smoked 40 joints, straight. Raghav wouldn’t agree. He countered by saying that his personal record was 50… LOL!! The bickering continued for a while until I intervened and solved it. After smoking a cigarette each and sharing  a third piece 50-50, the pack was shoved back into Sushil’s laptop bag and we walked back to CCD.

Then came the problem of where to store the packets. Both of them wouldn’t take the packet home, for fear of parental detection! Finally Raghav chose to keep the packets in a consensus, after wild plans including loosely selling cigarettes at 5-apiece!!

After walking both the dudes back to CCD, where they smoked away the remaining 17 pieces in the packet, I walked to the bus stop. I reiterated my forever-philosophy in mind. If the dudes don’t control their habit, they’re sure goanna learn the hard way…

Smoking is injurious to health!

P.S.

The incident is real, but names are changed to protect identities and ‘images’ of certain ..ahem… very respectable people!