The agony and the ecstasy of childhood Growing up in a traditional Tambrahm home meant that Saturday was reserved for a special ritual - the oil bath. It was taken for granted. Non negotiable. Rain or shine. It meant being woken up early ( when all you wanted to do was snuggle into bed for just a while longer) and having the first application of oil on the top of the head. You were then given the morning drink of your choice..coffee in my case...breakfast, and then sent off to settle your stomach before the all important event. Your hair and scalp were massaged with naallennai - sesame oil, as it was the goddess of all oils. This would be followed by an all over body massage...by the mother or grandmother when you were very young and by yourself ( under strict supervision in case you skimped) as you grew older. Allow the oil to seep into every pore while being imprisoned in the bathroom with nothing to do except curse your mother for being such a killjoy. Why cant you be like other cool mothers who allow their children to have shampoo baths?A common refrain in your home as you grumbled your way through countless such Saturdays. After about thirty minutes of this mind numbing torture ( your eyes were on fire and sweat made you itch) you would hear a knock on the door and the welcome shout, ok! You can bathe now! Open taps....see the steam of hot water ....feel the bliss of it sliding on oil slicked skin and then the vigorous rinse off with (no, not soap! Itll ruin your skin) shikakkai for the scalp and kadalai maavu ( besan) for the rest of you. And though you were loathe to admit it, you felt light as air, your skin like silk and a blissful lethargy stole over your limbs....boneless, almost and ravenously hungry after all the exertion! You dressed in a hurry, keeping your hair wrapped in the towel turban and rushed to eat a predictable meal. For this was part of the ritual. Oil baths meant jeera -pepper rasam and paruppu thuvaiyal ( toor dal chutney) with hot rice and ghee. You detox from head to toe..within and without. You step out into your garden ....your hair feels the breeze and sunlight softly caresses your face. If its your lucky day, your mother might light up some sambrani to perfume your hair and maybe some jasmine to pin up over your plait later. The most wondrous thing was being able to let your hair loose ....just while it dried....a glorious hour or two before it was trained into rigid plaits....good girls dont go around with untied hair. But you so wanted to be a bad girl, if only for a while......Until next Saturday. There is a post script to this write. I do know now that it was one of the best traditions.....one that I revived after a brief period of rebellion. I oiled and massaged my babies and watched them grow ...healthy and without a sniffle. Our home is remarkably free from any kind of childrens medication. They rarely fall sick and even if they do, its only the rare cold. I firmly believe that what my grandmother claimed is the truth. The weekly oil bath is the key to good health. Some traditions Im proud of and glad to carry through....and this is one of them!
Posted on: Wed, 13 Aug 2014 03:38:41 +0000