It makes sense that it stood out the most for me. As kids we don’t always remember the details, but I remember the feeling in the room. Warmth, togetherness, and a sense that something important was happening, even if we couldn’t articulate it. Those details paint such a vivid little world. It’s amazing how the mind remembers the stories and the routine around it. The walk from Shankarpuram to Gandhi Bazaar, the familiar rumble of the 41 bus, the last stretch from 18th  Cross… it feels like a ritual within the ritual. Almost like the journey itself was part of the ceremony. And then that moment of arrival, everyone gathered in the angala, the quiet hum of everyone catching up, cousins running around each other, and the dodappa and chikappas tucked away performing the rites. Also, those closed windows always felt mysterious and at the same time almost sacred. When we are young, anything hidden becomes a whole universe of imagination. I probably sensed that something solemn was happening, even though I had no idea or didn’t know the specifics. Thathan thiti day memory sticks because it was tied to movement, place, and emotion.

Everyone would be present at Namaskara time. It felt like a second wave of the gathering, almost like the moment when the house reached full strength. And then the prasada of course would be the highlight of the thiti. Rave unde, ambade, vade… those are the tastes that have imprinted so deeply that even thinking of them brings back, the murmur of voices, the clatter of steel plates. Kamala atte always handing out prasada feels like one of those small, steady roles that quietly define her role on that day, almost making it a family tradition. Dodappa and Shankra serving,  move through the crowd with ladles and tumblers, making sure everyone is fed. Avarekai huli was the signature dish with vade, and rave unde. And Malige huvin hara on the photo of thata and all the chikappas, dodappa and annas forehead stuck with akshate. Shalya tied to their waist…… I can keep going on and on.

If I think about it now, what part of the day lingers the most are the atmosphere, the gathering, the rituals, or maybe just the sense of belonging? It was not about the ceremony itself, it was about the feeling of being part of something bigger than the unknown, something that only happened once a year and rearranged the whole family’s rhythm.

Thanks for initiating a thought about childhood memories Ramie. Especially the ones that sit quietly until something nudges them, and suddenly you’re right back in a moment you hadn’t thought about in years. I’m glad you sparked it. Those little flashes of nostalgia are grounding, comforting, and even surprisingly insightful.