India is a relationship-oriented society—I’ve mentioned this before. Every adult a kid meets becomes an “auntie,” “uncle,” “bhaiya” (brother), or “bahen” (sister). Growing up in Delhi, we used terms like “chacha,” “chachi,” “nana,” “nani,” “dada,” and “dadi.” Back in Chennai, it was “Mama,” “Mami,” “Akka,” “Anna,” “Thatha,” “Paatti,” and so on.

Addressing someone in this way instantly creates a bond, an unseen relationship between the two interacting souls. This was the foundation of the respect shown to elders. In Delhi, it was common for parents and even the community to bring up the kids, with elders referring to each other as “so-and-so’s mummy” or “so-and-so’s daddy.”

I will blend Hindi and English as I share some memories of these chachas, chachis, bhaiyas, and bahens who left an impact on me.

The first that springs to mind is, of course, Bhuvaji, the lady from the ground floor in Pahar Ganj. She was strict but affectionate. We were attached to her but also a bit terrified. She taught us manners, good behavior, and clean habits, lessons that still guide us today.

I wasn’t very outgoing, but one rainy day, I joined some boys playing in the rain. They invited me to their home, and that’s when I was introduced to the game of trade. However, this newfound friendship disappeared within days.

Then there was the Chachi from the neighboring flat in the place we moved to after Pahar Ganj. Energetic, always cheerful, and friendly, she taught me to play the banjo, sparking my interest in music. She would also play badminton with me and my brother.

We later moved to another apartment block in the same locality. An uncle in the nearby block, whom we never called Chacha, would gather all the boys daily to play a game he called “statue.” We’d be doing something on the lawn, and he’d shout “statue!” and we had to freeze in place. Whoever maintained their posture the longest was the winner. He would try to prod and joke, and declare anyone who moved as “out.” My brother often won, and I usually ended up as the runner-up. This was one game where I could never beat him.

Another couple, Chacha and Chachi, with three kids, took great care of our family. They had a radio, and we often spent time at their home, listening to it and sharing meals. One of their boys later came to Chennai for a polytechnic course and would stay with us on weekends.

At the typewriting institute I mentioned earlier, a young married lady with a small daughter joined to learn typewriting and shorthand. She was the elder sister of one of the boys at the institute. Despite her short stay, she became like an elder sister to all of us. On the day of her departure, we visited her house to say goodbye. I had written a poem for her but lost the courage to give it to her.

There was also the boy who made the least mistakes in typing. He became like an elder brother to me, and we often visited parks and libraries together. His father was a ticket collector at the local theater, and sometimes he’d sneak me in to watch movies. He was not traditionally handsome but presentable and had a keen interest in acting. He would act out scenes in front of us, and though I tried my best to get him a role in a movie, I never succeeded. When I had to leave for my job in Kerala, he took up the responsibility of getting my younger sister admitted to a new school.

Two people from the initial stages of my career stand out. One was a department head who took a great interest in me, often making me sit beside him during customer discussions to teach me how to interact and make decisions. Though I never called him uncle or brother, he was like a godfather to me.

Another was a lady officer who became like a sister, taking a keen interest in my personal and professional development. She often gave me a ride home, and my mother would send extra dishes for her regularly.

My rural branch cashier’s mom, who helped when my son was ill, was Mami to us.

There was another senior colleague who became a mentor and friend. I helped him find a house next to mine, and he guided me throughout my career. Even after retirement, we remained close. Known for his knowledge of history and the English language, he would sit with me for hours discussing various subjects. He taught me new words and made me repeat them until I was fluent—a great learning experience.

Throughout my career, I met many impactful people. Though these relationships may seem fleeting now, they have left strong imprints and lasting influence in my memory.

I remember them all.

Continued in 106. Chats and Chaats - Part 1