Atrium tales

Atrium tales

A recent visit to the bangalore palace and the courtyards there reminded me of the inner courtyard (called Muththam in Tamil - the atrium in English) in my grandmother's house where I spent many summer evenings as a child. And in a recent mail asha reminded me of this too - nostalgia made me go back to this post and the courtyard.

When they lived in joint families, the houses were always built with a private space for women . This was the inner courtyard. I remember the inner courtyard in my grandmother's place . It was after the kitchen - a squarish space where two thirds of the roof was covered by wooden rafters supported on pillars sloping into a open space with a well and a large space for cleaning utensils covered by grill work which let the sun light into the space throughout the day.

This was the space where the women of the house spent their afternoons, many times joined by relatives and friends from the neighbourhood to make spicy pickles and papads accompanied by spicier gossip. this is where they created beautiful lacework, embroidery and other handiwork as they shared their happiness or vented their anger and frustration and bared their souls and offered and sought comfort.

My favorite memories of this space are of those late evenings when grandmother sat with two large bowl full food. Moonlight flooding through the grills and forming patterns on the floor and the cool breeze of the spring evenings . About 12 of us - three of her daughters and six of us her grandchildren would sit around stretching our palms out where grandma placed balls of food in turn. Simple food, mostly left over from after noon meal accompanied by those divine summer pickles made from tender mangoes and fresh papads roasted on a coal fire placed on Mandara leaves before each one.We exchanged jokes, solved riddles, bantered with one another and before you knew it, the enormous bowls are empty and you feel fulfilled in more ways than one.
I have not found one restaurant, in all the places i have travelled to, to beat the ambience or the quality of food that we had in grandma's inner courtyard.
Sometimes you wish you had stayed 10 and not grown up at all!

P.s: Pictures are of a space in our house inspired by memories of grandma's courtyard.


And here is the atrium at the Alliance Francaise Bangalore where I have spent many happy hours in the recent years.