7. Preserving our stories

In 2010, when I visited the home, I met the few people who still lived there. Sitting at a kitchen table, I listened to my 85-year-old grand uncle – my grandfather’s third or fourth cousin – recounting stories of our community’s history. I watched his eyes shining as he narrated anecdotes from the past, many of which he himself had heard only from his grandparents. I realized that it was not just the beams and pillars of the historical structure around us, but, in fact, his stories that made the whole experience so magical and memorable to me. 

I was fortunate to have grandparents who’d thrived in this environment and wanted to share it with us – and particularly lucky to have my grandmother, who was an endless fount of fascinating stories herself. She kept these narratives alive for years after our roadtrip to Katapadi. 

But how does one preserve the stories of a community in a more enduring way - especially with no script to write in? Our tiny, fast-vanishing cultural-linguistic group is unified by a common spoken language, but with writings splintered across borrowed scripts. I wondered if all the stories I had heard would be lost forever as the senior generation passed on. Would other young people like me, or indeed my future children, have any knowledge of our past, any glimpse into the fascinatingly different world that our ancestors came from? 

Now, far away in Montclair, New Jersey, my grandmother is archiving the history of our community, as she updates a family tree that spans generations, collates and classifies innumerable photos, letters, documents and conversations, and puts together a hand-written account of her memories. 

In moving to the United States, my grandmother and I have left our home behind, but the powerful legacy of a shared culture bind us to it forever.  By preserving our heritage, we have forged bonds across time and please – and between us. 

The grand-uncle who narrated our community's stories to us

Sitting at the kitchen table in Katapadi with my grandmother who kept these stories alive for us