Sunday was their adventure day. Suresh would tie a lungi , put Amma on the pillion of his bike—she insisted on sitting sideways like a dignified lady—and they'd ride to nearby spots: the for fresh elaneer (tender coconut), the Thenmala dam for a quiet walk, or simply to Kollam beach where Amma would buy roasted peanuts and watch the sunset, saying, "Your father loved this view."
"Office canteen," Suresh lied. He'd actually skipped lunch to finish a report, but he knew Amma would force-feed him if she found out. Theirs was a silent treaty: he pretended to eat well at work, she pretended to believe him.
One evening, as they watched a Mohanlal comedy rerun, Amma asked softly, "Suresha, don't you feel bored? Just me and this old house?" -Users choice- kollam kadakkal mother son scandal
On weekends, they upgraded. Saturday was "music night." Amma would take out her old harmonium—a dusty relic from her youth when she learned Hindustani for two years before marriage. Suresh would hum along tunelessly while she played, her fingers still surprisingly nimble. He’d record short videos on his phone, and she’d scold, "Delete that! I look like a frightened frog!"
Their lifestyle was simple, almost rhythmic. Suresh worked as an accounts officer at a cooperative bank in Kollam town, commuting forty-five minutes each way. Amma ran the home like a precise engine—waking at 5 AM for tea and newspaper, tending to her small vegetable patch of padavalanga and payaru , and by 8 AM, having puttu and kadala curry ready for Suresh. Sunday was their adventure day
She laughed—a full, generous sound that Suresh had missed during his two years working in Chennai. He’d returned last year, unable to stand the sight of her eating alone in front of the TV. Now, their evenings were a ritual.
Amma smacked his arm lightly. "Poda, nonsense." Theirs was a silent treaty: he pretended to
"Shall we go next month?" she asked eagerly.
"No," he smiled. "I told him, 'My resort is this veranda. My AC is the evening breeze from Kadakkal. And my buffet is your puttu and kadala.' He didn't know what to say."
"Amma!" he called out, pulling off his helmet. "I'm back."
"Anything new in town?" she asked, settling onto the coir cot.