In the quiet corners of my childhood
Stands a house called Sitara,
Where stories were stitched into the walls
And one man’s presence shaped our world—
Kamal Uncle.
To us in the ’70s,
He was “Uncle” by affection,
“Don” by stature,
A pillar of Kollam—
Steady, wise, unshakeable.
His office…
A small kingdom of its own—
Plywood chairs, books on every sill,
Curtains drawn heavy,
And the black rotary phone
Whispering the thrill of those
secret, silly calls
I made to TKM’s Men’s hostel—
The beginning threads
of a love that would become my life.
While Ameena guided me,
And little Zayeda fluttered around,
And cute little Faisal all over
That office room became
the doorway to my youth—
To courage, to mischief,
To destiny itself.
But beyond our escapades,
There was his mind—
An encyclopedia wrapped in silence.
He guarded a library
that opened my world,
Letting me borrow books
far ahead of my age,
Planting seeds of insight
I still carry today.
And then, the antiques—
Porcelain with warm-water pockets,
Gold-gilded dinner sets,
Heritage treasures from manas and arayum-purayum,
Timeless pieces rescued and restored
Because he believed
nothing precious should ever be discarded.
Long before the world said “sustainability,”
he lived it.
To me,
he was the aristocrat of wisdom,
The quiet thamburaan of Kollam,
A man who walked with dignity
but carried a heart wide enough
to encourage a young girl
who loved books and bicycles
more than anything else.
Years later, when life circled back
and we met again,
He remembered everything—
My studies, my journey,
My connection to MR,
My small triumphs.
He asked with interest,
with genuine pride—
A rare gift from a rare man.
Today, as his soul walks onward
into the great light,
I close my eyes and see Sitara again—
The black gate, the verandah,
Jameela Aunty moving gently through the home,
And Kamal Uncle in his easy chair,
Ottamundu, slack shirt,
Serious face softened by a quiet kindness.
I stand before him once more,
As that young girl with borrowed books
and borrowed courage—
And offer him a silent prayer.
For the legacy he leaves,
For the wisdom he shared,
For the countless ways
he shaped our paths
without ever trying.
Kollam has lost a true star.
And I, a cherished part
of my story.
May he travel light.
May his memory stay luminous.
May Sitara always echo with him
11th December 2025
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