Twenty leap years to 80

A leap year is special, so are people born on February 29.My Appachan is one such special person and this time it 'leaps', appachan reaches milestone no 80.
Hailing from an agricultural family and being the eldest son to marry(his elder brother joined the Jesuits) appachan is a farmer by destiny.Though they had a sizeable land in his hometown of Arakuzha,in Muvattupuzha,finding more cultivable land became a necessity to sustain the 9 member family.So my appachan decided to move.He came upon a piece of land in the then Godforsaken hamlet of Ayroorpadam,in Kothamangalam.From what was just a part of the forest he carved out what later became my mother's home.Paddy,rubber,nutmegs,cocoa,pepper,vanilla,coconuts and a cornucopia of fruit trees flourished under his green thumb.It was only after my mum,(the second of four children)was born that my grandmother joined him at Ayroorpadam.Back then they lived in a tiny little house which served as the granary,as well as their home.The livestock included cows,goats,hens,rabbits and a huge pond of prawns.
It took years of hard work and sweat before they built their new house and saw their children settled.
The earliest memory I have of appachan is from the video tapes that my dad painstakingly took when my brother and I were babies.Dad had this weird notion of planning home videos by making people walk up and down the driveway.So there's appachan marching up and down with Neil and me in his arms,beaming like any proud grandfather rightfully should.(Ofcourse we were a cute pair of twins!)
Kothamangalam was always naadu because it looked like one, unlike our paternal native place in Ernakulam,a city just like our Trivandrum.
We'd arrive to the loving embrace of ammachi and the smiling face of my uncle(who used to stay there) but appachan, being the busy bee was seldom seen in the house during the day.If we made an entry through the paddy fields behind the house,we might see him somewhere in the farm,his broad,muscular frame glistening with sweat, his sturdy legs caked in mud and a smile of joy on his face and invariably the first question was"Which bus did you come by?".How refreshing it sounded unlike the formal "sughamano?"

Wake up at 4,milk the cows,clean the cow shed,inspect the rubber sheets hung up to dry,newspaper,breakfast at 8,farm chores till 1pm,lunch,farm chores again,tea at 4,tie up the cows,lock up the storeroom,bath,DD news at 7(years later when the TV came),prayer time at 7:15,supper at 8.To bed by 9.

This was appachan's life for the last 50 years.

I remember the few times he visited us back in Trivandrum.He never used to stay for more than a night inspite of the 8 hr journey saying he had to rush back to tend his cows.
Though only a 6th grader of the pre Independance educational system appachan is an avid newspaper reader.He literally devours the papers because when he's done with them,all we have is shreds of the Malayala Manorama scattered on the verandha.
He used to own a rickety old cycle which took him on his trading trips.(Back in the 50s he used to walk about 25 kms every weekend to Arakuzha to be with the family.)
It was routine for appachan ask us kids,what we wanted when he gets back from town.To me it was like the question of the genie in the bottle.But my cousins were smarter and always asked for plastic bangles.We'd wait expectantly to hear the tinkle of his cycle bell and rush to meet him when he appeared at the gate,our little hands held out for those coloured bangles and naaranga muttayi.Dont think I ever said "Thank you,appacha",inspite of my convent school training.

My mum recounts this from her college days.Appachan took her to the ophthalmologist to fix her up with glasses.She is on the seat reading out the letters,when appachan butts in"Moley,you are reading it all wrong,It's like this..."
His efforts in farming were recognized by the Malayala Manorama and they honoured him along with four others from the taluk for Life-time achievements.The trophy and the photo now stands proudly in the show case along with a couple of recognitions from the panchayat.
A religious movie goer of the past,appachan has seen the entire lot of the black and white Malayalam movies released in cinemas at Kothamangalam and Muvattupuzha.
Appachan enjoys playing cards.Once we sat down to play and went on for hours with appachan playing with professional zeal,suspending his grandfatherly duty to let any of us win once in a while.

The diagnosis of diabetes came as a blow.For someone who relished hot bondas,vazhakkaappams ,and parippu vadas, from the glass jars at the chayakada ,it was the end of the world.
We kids used to watch in awe and fear,the nonchalant way he used to bare his thigh and jab a needle of insulin;thankfully the new insulin pen substitute makes the process less gory.
His hypoglycemic bouts have always been nightmares.Once he almost got swept away in the canal as he dived to retrieve a runaway coconut.By Providence Divine,someone saw him half a mile down the canal and dived to his rescue.Another time we got a call from ammachi at 6.30 pm saying appachan was missing.We spend one horrible hour,helpless in far away Trivandrum, till ammachi called to say they(the neighbours)found him unconscious in some remote corner of the farm.
Life has been tough for them since my uncle left for the US.If it were not for the farm chores they would have found themselves imprisoned in their own paradise.
Nowadays he spends a lot of time sleeping.Age is catching up soon and so is the loneliness.Of late,I have seen tears streaming down his gaunt face when we say goodbye after a joyful gettogether.

This February 29,he will savour his birthday cake and the payasam with least worry of his sugar levels,flash that handsome smile with the new dentures,sit with ammachi and enjoy the chatter and laughter of his children,their spouses and his grandchildren.Only last month he posed with his first great-grandchild.How would his thoughts read?

I'll never know till my turn comes...


" Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the Poor. "

'Elegy written in a country churchyard',Thomas Gray

Happy Birthday Appacha! I Love you!