Oo Antaava?
Updated: Feb 28, 2023
Our backyard had a tree that was covered with vines and vines of blue flowers. And for the longest time I assumed that they were called Petunias. I can’t recollect why I assumed that in the first place. It was only much later, after I watched Harry Potter and his evil aunt Petunia, that I looked it up and found pictures of the real Petunias instead. Turns out, the flowers in our backyard were called Morning Glory. They look exactly alike, no seriously, look it up! The only difference apparently is that Petunias have oval shaped hairy leaves and Morning Glory has heart shaped leaves. Quite fitting if you ask me because our backyard was all heart, see what I did there? Ha!
Now, did you know Morning Glory flowers are night bloomers and pretty much dislike the sun? Petunias ward off underworld monsters and spirits (as the Mayans believed) and Aunt Petunia wards off Harry Potter. Lol. Each warding off something. Isn’t that an interesting connection? I digress with irrelevant subnotes — my apologies! I’m such an unreliable narrator.😉
Anyway, where was I? Ah, idyllic times! Winters were gorgeous there. Misty and dewy and so freaking picturesque! Amidst the mountains and right in between the clouds. You know there are two kinds of people — people who like mountains and people who like beaches. I like mountains. It’s ironical that I live in Sydney, a place known for its beaches. Well, irony has been a running theme in my life, so I’m never surprised.
Summers were alright too. And during summers all animals were welcome. All of them! My dad was an entomologist and so he was quite huge on the concept of co-existing. Which would explain my irrational phobia of spiders! Snakes were as much a common sight as were cows and dogs and leeches! We grew up in a house that was very Rudyard Kipling..ish. The government quarters were built by the British and so they had red-oxide floors and tiled roofs, all within a township of sorts.
But truly, the best season was neither summer nor winter. It was the Monsoon! There is something so divine and poetic about looking up at huge trees from the veranda while it poured and poured. Pitter patter they fall for hours at end drenching everything in a misty wet shroud. Deep within the Western Ghats on the southern peninsular of India, this place was lush green and terrifying if you dared to venture out at night.
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Night. Oh that night!
Now that I have set the scene and hopefully tingled your senses, let me finally get to the story. On this particular night, just outside this very beautiful unassuming house, when all the creepy crawlies hid themselves from the wetness, something eventful happened! That night, not just the creepy crawlies but more creatures hid themselves from sight.
We finished dinner. It was way past 9 o clock and it still wouldn’t stop raining. My parents switched the channel to old Hindi songs to unwind from the day. This was our cue to go to bed. My sister and I, thick as thieves, shared a room. We tucked ourselves in and listened to the rain falling so hard on our tiled roof. I must have been 11 years old, same age that Harry Potter went to Hogwarts. Anyway, soon after the TV was off, my parents went to bed as well. Silence! But only inside the house. Outside it was raging! The rain was incessant and angry. I drifted and finally fell asleep.
I woke up the next morning and something didn’t seem right. It was the lighting, it was all messed up. The shadows weren’t right and the angles didn’t quite fall in place. Something had happened. There’s too much light now in the room. The tree?
Still rubbing our eyes we ventured out to the veranda to see my dad smoking in the wet morning air with a deep frown and a hand on his hip. Walked a few more steps around the corner into the backyard and something was off. It took me a minute to realise that our tree was gone along with the Morning glory vines. It was gone! No, it didn’t fall or vanish. It was cut — axed from the ground.
What in the world? Sliced off clean to the ground! Unbelievable! It was massive! Apparently, whoever did it had tied the tree to other structures and trees around for it to not fall and make a sound. But why?
Why? You see our tree in the backyard was no ordinary tree. It was a magnificent Sandalwood tree. And those rascals were Sandalwood smugglers. They cleverly chose the right kind of night to do the deed. And they carried it away too all without any of us or our neighbours knowing. I don’t know if you’ve watched the movie Pushpa but someone had Oo Antavaad right from under noses that night, from our backyard.
The point is, I’m always reminded of this event whenever I see Petunias/Morning Glory/Aunt Petunia. They have morphed into one single thing for access into this specific brain memory. Is that normal? Does that happen to you? Or do you not waste brain space for such weird connections? Do let me know 😉
