Memoirist Prompt

Remembering Braving The Storm With My Rebel Mom

An adventure that belongs on my happy list

I started writing this story when KiKi Walter published the October Memoir Prompt: The Storm. (Tell us about the time a storm hit your life…literally or figuratively)

The worst storm in my life was when my mother passed away in 2010 and while I cherish the memories, I guess I will never stop mourning losing her.

But let me recall a happy storm we both enjoyed.

Let’s rewind to 1983.

Chennai usually experiences stormy rainy crazy weather in November. We referred to it as unexpected but yeah, we anticipated it, prepared for it.

In the early 80s, this involved checking out the program schedule on the one TV channel we had. Cable TV was still well into the future. With rainy weather outside and with the Diwali celebrations usually done with or coming up, we liked to make a big deal of the menu.

Nothing beats eating fried snacks when it rains hard outside, and listening to the news on the radio — if it worked. It was still exciting to lie around like beached whales, burping, or . . . you know . . . the other noisy end of the human digestive system that works overtime after overeating festive meals and keeps up a stream of laughter and serves as amusement. The collective nose would disagree.

Entertainment was mainly board games, reading, singing, or getting that turntable out and enjoying our own eclectic collection of music.

Anyway, it was a wet day in November — 1983 — when this terrifying cyclone hit our shores.

I had just started my first legit job a few months earlier. The schedule was quite grueling and this sudden day off that could become more than one day was so welcome.

Trees were falling, houses collapsing, and buses getting stranded everywhere with roads being blocked. The local trains stopped midtrack; autorickshaws and cabs simply refused to take trips, preferring to huddle in any shelter they could get.

Warning advisories were issued, urging people to stay indoors.

So as the day wore on, with nonstop rain, we started getting on each other’s nerves. Being trapped indoors was not a happy situation. Those days we lived in a one-bedroom flat with a balcony and our family consisted of my grandma, my uncle and aunt, and my mom and me. I mostly hung out on the balcony which was fortunately covered by a grill, letting me put up posters or curtains, as the mood took me.

Watching the relentless rain made us hungry faster than we liked, reducing the gaps between mealtimes. We decided to make fritters and masala chai to help ease the boredom. I mean, what is it about rainy weather that makes eating fried stuff so much more fun than usual? This wrapped up pretty quickly and we were back to being bored again.

It was then that my mom came up with this brainwave of watching a movie. Since those were not the days of the internet and instant access to everything . . . not even television, we wondered what it would be like to step out and try to go to a movie theater in the storm.

We pulled out the day’s newspaper and checked what was playing where and shortlisted theaters nearest to us. As it happened the nearest one that had a movie worth seeing was some distance away, but we were connected by bus, so that wasn’t a problem.

Or was it?

Well, the idea was shot down by my uncle and grandma while my aunt looked on with half-hearted curiosity to see what would unfold.

Anyway, Mom and I, rebelled and decided to venture out in the storm, promising that we would return home if it got too . . . unmanageable outside. As our folks reluctantly and disapprovingly looked on, we got dressed and, armed with umbrellas that were no match for the rain outside, jauntily walked to the bus stop closest to our place.

Now, we knew that we’d normally have to change buses to get to the theater to see the movie we wanted. So, the plan was to hop on the first bus that came by and see what happened. What did we have to lose anyway? Also, we were feeling quite adventurous.

Five minutes passed. We heard the rumble of the storm combined with the welcome sound of the bus arriving and quickly hopped on. Turned out the bus had to divert from its usual route. And guess what? It took us directly to the movie theater we wanted to go to. We couldn't believe our luck! Of course, we saw this as a good omen, because we innocently assumed that going back home, 15 kilometers away, would not be an issue.

Isn’t it amazing how we conveniently ignore the inconveniences in life?

We arrived at our stop and eagerly headed to the theater’s ticket counters. Got our cheap tickets and triumphantly headed inside. What? No matter where you sit you see the same 70mm screen, right? Also, we were stunned to see the crowd there. Clearly, we were not the only ones feeling adventurous!

Anyway, imagine our shocked surprise when we realized that it was a different movie and not the one we thought of watching! Well, we were not about to complain because we were already cozily tucked into our seats with our snack bags that we had thoughtfully carried from home.

It was a new movie titled Hero, starring Jackie Shroff and Meenakshi Seshadri, which went on to become a blockbuster hit. Even today, tunes from the movie are happily plagiarized in the movies that followed.

Well, we quite enjoyed the movie and over the decades, watched it several times when it aired on cable TV.

During the movie intermission, as we hurriedly headed to the restrooms before the crowds hit, we bumped into some friends, who, like us, had expected an echo-y movie hall. After much laughter, we headed back for the remainder of the movie.

An hour and a half later found us waiting at the bus stop, hoping. Hope slowly turned to panic as the minutes ticked by, with nary a sign of any transport. Darkness and rain have a way of bringing down most people's spirits, but not my mom’s.

When I asked her what we’d do if there was no bus, she cheerfully answered that we’d walk home. We knew the way. So it was far off. So what?

Just as I was thinking the sooner we started our trek back home the better, a car drew up beside us. The driver, who looked vaguely familiar, peered out and asked if we’d like a ride to Anna Nagar. That’s where we lived. We could see others in the car with a couple of kids. Throwing caution to the winds, again, we took the plunge and accepted the ride.

Turned out that the car owner also lived in our area and had seen us around. How lucky!

And thus we got back home, safe, to the sound of much scolding from my grandma and uncle who had been worried sick.

While I have many wonderful memories of my mom, this is one I will never forget. We were out in that crazy weather, laughing, gossiping, imagining all kinds of ridiculous what-if scenarios and I treasure the day.

In the years that followed, we’ve talked about this day many times in wonder. In spite of the tough life she had, my mom was strong and never let her inner rebel rest. She was cheerful, kind, generous, and bold. Not easy when living with a traditional orthodox family.

I just hope I inherited half her goodness. And I really do not need Mother’s Day to remember and celebrate her, because she lives in my heart and I talk to her in my head. Every day.

Thanks for reading!

Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles ❤ Did you smile today?

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I always enjoy Sally Prag’s accounts of her time in India and this memoir of hers was no exception!