I have already written about how much I love my grandfather’s house in Supparayapuram. That house was never just a structure. It was my childhood’s silent witness. Front Entrance But now, it stands half-demolished — fragile, unsafe, and no longer suitable to use. After serious thought and discussion, my father and my chittapa have decided to demolish it completely and build a small new room in its place. Not something grand. Not something modern and flashy. Just something that gives the space life again. When I look at the recent images, my heart feels heavy. I don’t just see broken walls. I see my grandmother walking through the wide kitchen. I see my grandfather sitting outside, lost in thought. I see the lemon tree that stood proudly near the side. The curry leaves plant that always smelled fresh. The huge kitchen — fully equipped even in those days. The water storage “thooti” near the kitchen. The narrow pathway that led to the backyard. Every corner carries a memory...
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