Major T.A. John….My Aunt Thankamma

regulierte binäre optionen broker Aunt Thangamma. Sibling No 10 was the eldest of my mum’s younger sisters. Aunt Thangamma did nursing, joined the Indian army and retired as a Major with pips. She often coordinated her leave to come to Kerala at the same time that we were there on holiday. She chose to stay single till she was sixty years old and was pampered by the family as the only unmarried sister for a long time. She was very close to my mum as she was the only girl after 4 boys in the Siblage. Her postings in the Army took her to far and distant places in India and overseas. When she came home for her annual holidays, she brought the world and all her army rations back with her in her magic trunks together with sleeveless blouses, lipstick, makeup, high heels, jewellery, fancy handbags, accessories and elaborate hairdos with no hint of grey. She even taught us ballroom dancing. There was only one problem. She never ever behaved her age and she never grew old. She made it abundantly clear that she disliked any of her siblings talking about age, either theirs or hers.
Birthdays are for presents, new clothes and good food…… she said.
Birthdays are not for chalking up age.

follow link She was openly partial to the pretty cousins. She would come around while we were eating and place her hand on our heads making predictions about how much each of us would need to pay as dowry to be married off. The plain Janes were dismissed for hefty sums running into lakhs and lakhs of rupees.
Your dad will have to pay a lot of money to get you married….. she would say to some of us.
Better study hard I don’t think you will find a husband easily ….
Some of the cousins were dismissed with a perfunctory remark.
Better run away from home….. she would say shaking her head
Not much hope here ….
The pretty ones would receive smiles and pats on their heads. They would gloat as she continued…..
This one is so pretty she will be snatched away….
This one needs no dowry….
This one is just like me…. Beauty of spirit had no price in my Aunt Thankamma’s books. Sometimes Aunt Thangamma came to Singapore on holidays when I was home. These visits were techni-coloured nightmares as she would twang my rubber band with irritating accuracy and precision. She always wanted what I wanted.

go here My mum would take me shopping to get ready for College. Aunt Thangamma would insist on coming along and would insist on buying everything that I bought, in identical colour and size, to my intense and immature irritation.
I am coming with you….. she would announce when we were going out the front door.
Pengal, wait for me….
This meant another two hours of waiting around while she got ready.
If my mum made goodies for me to take back to College, they had to be done for her too, including my mum’s famous fish pickle. Whatever I got, she insisted that she got an identical and my Mum always obliged much to my exasperation.

It used to get on my nerves. What I did not understand then, was that she was not acquisitive for herself. Whatever she collected, she took back and distributed amongst my cousins, her nieces and nephews. None of what she took back was for herself. She was thinking of all the cousins.

Generosity was a gene they all carried.

see url She had a row of suitors and she turned them down systematically, dismissing them as…… Too short….Too tall….Too fat….Too thin…Too this….Too that…Too something or the other….
Finally, at the age of sixty she decided to marry a widower with two grown up children. The family was flabbergasted and perhaps even a trifle fearful when they watched her walk demurely up the steps on my Uncle Philip’s arm to be a devoted wife to a very lucky man.

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