“Eṅkaḷ kuḻantaikaḷ, avarkaḷ tolaintu pōṉārkaḷ Our children, they are lost!”
My grandmother, Meera (or Meema, as I call her), lived in Chennai as a child. When Meema was in elementary school, she spent her school holidays with her cousins and their extended family in Bangalore. One year during the Dussehra holidays, when Meema was around nine years old, her father (my great-grandfather) got tickets for the entire family to visit the famous annual Dussehra Fair at the Mysore Palace, which was a two-hour drive from Bangalore.
As they drove up to the Palace, dressed in their finest clothes and jewelry, the family discovered that while they had the right number of adult tickets, they had only two child tickets. The grown-ups decided that Meema and her cousin Rani (who was a year younger than her) should be given the two child tickets, while the other cousins had to miss out on the festivities and wait in their car with their grandfather.
As the family walked from the carpark to the Palace – a good 20 minutes away – they found that there was a separate entrance to the grounds where the children’s activities were being held. My great-grandfather handed over the two child tickets, and told Meema and her cousin that after they had visited all the attractions, the children were to meet their parents at a specific pillar, right outside the Palace. “Remember, stay near this pillar,” Meema’s father repeated again and again, “You can see how crowded this place is. We don’t want the two of you to get lost!”.
“Yes, Dad, we will wait here”, promised Meema. With great excitement, my grandmother and her cousin entered the Fair, and they had a magnificent time, watching magicians, dancers and musicians.
When it was time for them to leave, the children reluctantly tore themselves away from the festivities and walked to the pillar that Meema’s father had pointed out to them. However, when they got to the pillar, there was no one waiting for them. A few minutes later, a policeman came up to them and shouted (in Tamil). “Hey, no one is allowed to wait here! Quit loitering around!”. Meema tried to explain to the policeman that her father had asked them to wait there, but the policeman just would not budge, and shooed the two girls away.
Meema and her cousin didn’t know what to do next. They tried to call out and find their parents in the crowd, but were unable to see any familiar faces in the huge throng of people. They walked around in circles, totally lost. Finally, the two girls decided that they would be brave and find their way back to the bungalow where they were staying. As they walked, they met a friendly-looking couple, and decided to ask them for directions.
Meema says that it is pure luck that these two strangers were good-natured and knew English, as she and her cousin did not speak or understand Kannada, the local language of Mysore. The kindly couple, who happened to be heading in the same direction, offered to walk with the children. All four of them jostled through the crowd, heading in the direction that my grandmother sincerely hoped was the right one.
As they were walking, they found themselves in a carpark, and Meema suddenly noticed that their car – a beige Dodge – was parked right in front of them! She and her cousin took off towards the car with great relief. Her grandfather and other cousins were waiting inside.
As Meema’s grandfather and cousins did not know about the girls’ adventures, they were surprised to see Meema and her cousin (looking slightly disheveled) sprint excitedly to the car all by themselves. “What’s going on?” they asked suspiciously.
Just then, Meema’s father walked up to the car and said worriedly, “Mīrāvum rāṇiyum tirumpi vantuṭṭāṅkaḷā? Meera and Rani, are they back?” When he saw the girls, he collapsed on the seat with relief. The rest of the family were still looking for the children near the Palace, so he promptly rushed back to let them know the wonderful news. Later in the day, Meema and her cousin told the family all about their adventures!
This story made me wonder – what would I have done if the same thing had happened to me? These days, we have our phones and watches and other devices, but what if we were lost and didn’t have any way to communicate with our parents? Would I have been as brave as my Meema? What would you do if this happened to you?
It was really nice to talk to my grandmother and learn about an exciting experience that happened in her life. I hope to keep learning more about the adventures that my grandparents and other older relatives had during their childhood many, many years ago.