When Family Comes Home —
A Get-Together Worth Remembering

This one was the second kind.

Cousin Thomas Gancis — known to everyone who loves him as Shaji — and his wife Sajeena came to Lida Dale recently for a get-together that turned into something far more than an afternoon visit. My brother John Ancil, better known as Biju, was there too. And in that room, between the laughter and the old stories, I found myself quietly grateful for something I couldn't quite name at first. Vini graciously hosted the event — memorable, as usual.

I'm not entirely sure why I feel compelled to write this. But I think it's because of Shaji.

During the Covid pandemic, an accident left him with detached hips, broken legs, broken ribs and severe blood loss. In any other time it would have been devastating enough. But this happened in the middle of a pandemic — when visitors were restricted, when hospitals felt like fortresses, when the world outside had gone silent and strange.

Health bulletins came through regularly. Each update carried its own weight of fear and hope.

What I witnessed in those months was two kinds of courage.

The first was Shaji's — a quiet, stubborn refusal to be defined by what had broken him. Even bedridden for months, isolated in ways that would have crushed many, he remained exactly who he had always been.

I used to visit Shaji during those long months of recovery. We would talk nonsense, crack old jokes, brag about nothing in particular — anything to keep him distracted from the pain. Looking back, I think those visits helped him.

Despite everything — despite the suffering, the isolation, the family politics that swirl around any difficult situation — Shaji came out the other side as exactly the man he went in as. That is not a small thing.

This gathering at Pala was actually our second in a short span. Before this, Vini and I had decided to go for a long ride — a break was needed. Cousin Jackson and his wife Nisha had organised a wonderful get-together, graced by the presence of their daughter — a Canadian police officer home on vacation. Proud is an understatement.

That occasion also brought Cousin Michael Morais — Prem — and his wife Jasmine back into the fold. We had met at his daughter's First Communion and now met again with the ease of people who had set something old and unnecessary aside. Prem and I had our hiccups once. Those are erased now. The brotherly relationship continues — with family on both sides. I am clean in my heart about it, and I hope he carries the same feeling.

The energy that evening was something else entirely. Biju and Shaji together are a force of nature — the jokes, the timing, the mutual ability to make everyone around them forget their worries. The night we spent in Pala and the houseboat trip the following day are memories I will hold for a long time. The photographs will help, but honestly the feeling doesn't need a photograph.

My sister Seema and Arnet (Unni) were with us too — and couldn't stop laughing till the very end. On the way back, Biju and Seema joined us to Kollam, extending the day just a little longer than anyone wanted it to end.

I'm somewhat certain now why I wrote all of this.

I miss the childhood. Not the age — but the feeling of it. Those days when family meant the entire clan. The Kurukkan Family. My mother's side. Grandfather Peter Dominic — an exceptional character who deserves his own article entirely, and will get one someday.

These get-togethers are the closest we get to breathing that air again. And for that — for Shaji's courage, for Sajeena's strength, for Biju's laughter, for Prem's grace, for Kurukkan's kitchen and for everyone who showed up — I am genuinely grateful.