Courtyard, rain and memories

PETRICHOR — that distinctive aroma that arises when the first drops of rain fall on dry soil — transports me back to a time when life was simpler, and homes and hearts were bigger. As I inhale the familiar fragrance, memories of playing in my childhood courtyard, watching the rain and feeling the cool breeze on my skin make me smile.

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Those were beautiful days! Instead of ending after sunset, the day became more exciting when our joint family of more than 14 souls would assemble in the courtyard. My grandparents sipped tea in their cosy armchairs, while my mother, uncles and aunts strolled through the garden, enjoying the gentle breeze and each other’s company.

Meanwhile, my siblings and I had a blast playing cricket, badminton, tag and hide-and-seek, or flying kites and chasing runaway ones. We’d plan birthday celebrations and have pre-celebration treats, making every evening a delight.

Summer nights were magical. We’d line up our beds in the courtyard, gazing at the starry sky and chatting away. The soothing sounds of nature — crickets chirping, leaves rustling — and fragrant night-blooming flowers lulled us to sleep. On rainy nights, we’d scramble to the verandah, predicting the next thunderclap.

Occasional nighttime monsoon encounters with snakes and scorpions helped reinforce our faith in God, besides fostering a spirit of unity and bravado. Mornings and afternoons during the summer and winter holidays, and the rainy season, were marked by family gatherings in the verandah. We would bond over board games with the whole family, including my grandparents.

We had a common kitchen that was always abuzz with activity to cater to the needs of family members and guests. It was synonymous with delectable aromas of mutton pulao, veg pulao, chicken curry, fried fish and fried potatoes, and a host of other treats. Celebrations were the norm, with birthdays, wedding anniversaries and achievements giving us every reason to rejoice. We had a full-time maid to help my grandmother and aunts with the cooking.

Summer siesta and chilly winter evenings would see us all gathering around my music system to savour a musical treat. We had a fixed time for everything — morning and evening family prayers, meals, studies and TV viewing. Bedtime was strict for elders as they were all employed. However, for me and my studious siblings, midnight was merely a flexible friend, not a formidable foe. TV time was strictly kept for the evenings, and was a daily celebration, with Chitrahaar, Doordarshan’s news bulletins and PTV serials.

Our Sundays would begin with a breakfast of stuffed parathas. Later, my maternal grandfather, a Bishop, would lead us to church.

“Mummy, you were blessed to have lived in those times,” says my son. I couldn’t agree more. I’m grateful to still have this courtyard and garden where these memories were created. It’s a reminder that some things in life are truly priceless — especially the connection of the heart to love and laughter.