I'm just bursting to talk about this marvellously South Indian phenomenon that is the meeting of two grandfathers - samandhis to each other. I have the good fortune of being able to witness it a few times a year when my paternal grandparents (Ajja and Dodda) come to visit us from Bangalore.
So, what happens is, Ajja walks in to my maternal grandparents' (Aathi and Thatha) house, slowly, after having deposited his chappals in the corridor outside. He ambles in, and when sees me sitting there, he smiles his usual friendly, mischievous smile. Aathi, sitting either beside me in the living room or at the dining table, greets both Ajja and Dodda enthusiastically.
Ajja ambles towards the sofa and sits down slowly, as the two ladies swiftly make their way to the kitchen to discuss grandmotherly things and possibly drink coffee. Thatha, having heard the commotion, his guest-radar tingling, abandons his game of online scrabble, or bridge (or possibly both) and shuffles out of his room.
This is when the magic happens.
The formal greeting. The hand-shaking. The way they call each 'sir' - with the slightest hint of a South Indian accent.
"Hello sir! Eppadi irukkel?"
"Good evening, sir! Edho irukken... Neenga eppadi irukkel?"
It's so formal. So Tamilian. So Brahmin.
And then they sit down and discuss the Indian cricket team's abysmal or fantastic performance (because the Indian cricket team only knows these two extremes).
Beautiful.
So, what happens is, Ajja walks in to my maternal grandparents' (Aathi and Thatha) house, slowly, after having deposited his chappals in the corridor outside. He ambles in, and when sees me sitting there, he smiles his usual friendly, mischievous smile. Aathi, sitting either beside me in the living room or at the dining table, greets both Ajja and Dodda enthusiastically.
Ajja ambles towards the sofa and sits down slowly, as the two ladies swiftly make their way to the kitchen to discuss grandmotherly things and possibly drink coffee. Thatha, having heard the commotion, his guest-radar tingling, abandons his game of online scrabble, or bridge (or possibly both) and shuffles out of his room.
This is when the magic happens.
The formal greeting. The hand-shaking. The way they call each 'sir' - with the slightest hint of a South Indian accent.
"Hello sir! Eppadi irukkel?"
"Good evening, sir! Edho irukken... Neenga eppadi irukkel?"
It's so formal. So Tamilian. So Brahmin.
And then they sit down and discuss the Indian cricket team's abysmal or fantastic performance (because the Indian cricket team only knows these two extremes).
Beautiful.
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