Of Grandparents and Super Saiyans

Thanks for the response to the first poll everyone...We have what you said you needed here.....A brilliant article from someone who loved TOM &JERRY the most as well...

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It is a strange thing about humans, this desire to be transported to another time. When I was a child, all I wanted to do was grow a moustache like my dad, shoot up to six feet in height like my uncles and become a scientist like my granddad. Well, that didn’t turn out too well. Now, I wish I was just starting out in college instead of being on the cusp of graduation and other such whatnots. Which is why, when they asked me if I could write about my favourite cartoon character, I leapt at the chance like a cheetah that hasn’t eaten in three weeks does on a stray antelope.

My earliest memory of any cartoon and, I am certain, the strongest memory of any cartoon I will ever have is that of Tom and Jerry. Far richer and greater tributes to their tomfoolery can be found, but I shall plod along nonetheless. For many, Tom and Jerry was about the humour. It was about the absence of any real good or evil. It was about chaos brought to life with jaw dropping artistry. It was about taking all that was frowned upon as immature and turning it into a brat of a child, who ran about blowing raspberries at the adult in everyone. It was about giving the child in you free reign. It was all of that for me as well, but in addition, Tom and Jerry is something that I shall always associate with my grandparents.

I was taken by the food in Tom and Jerry. This fascination for fuel for my digestive juices has only grown over time. I wanted to lose myself in the aroma of cheese like Jerry did. I wanted to shake like nobody’s business when I ate jelly like Tom did, remember that episode? I wanted those pies with the gorgeous purple filling, whatever that was. And my grandmother went out of her way to give me all those snacks. This was in the early 90s mind you. The cheese she melted for me wasn’t covered in holes like Jerry’s but I’m sure it tasted just as divine as the real thing (get it?). The jelly didn’t wobble inside of me, but it did on the spoon and that was enough to convince me I was at fault and not my grandmother. She was at a loss when it came to dishing out a pie for me, but she did manage to pull off this marvel she called banana bread. Surely no pie could taste as heavenly as this creation of Ammamma’s? Even today, when I see Tom walk up as a cowboy, I see myself trying to dress up in exactly the same way, the centre-table being my makeshift trusty steed. I see myself rubbing a lamp wondering why on earth the Genie didn’t show up like he did for Aladdin. But most of all, I remember my grandmother pulling rabbits out of her kitchen to satisfy my demands. I was a nightmare child, eh?

The other great animated work of art in my life is The Lion King. Just that. I haven’t seen parts 2 and 3, I don’t know the story, and I don’t need to. It is a standalone masterpiece. It was no Tom and Jerry, here the lines were drawn between good and bad. Every single time Mufasa died, little Me wailed. Every single time Timon and Pumba sang Hakuna Matata, the world didn’t seem all that gloomy. Every single time Scar lost, and Simba roared from atop Pride Rock, justice had been meted out and all was right with the world. None of this complicated anti-hero business here. You hated the bad guys and cheered for the good guys. Justice, Duty, Responsibiltyprevailed. If you ever want to learn how to teach kids morals without preaching, this is your Bible.

If you’ve noticed, I mentioned that Tom and Jerry reminded me of my grandparents, and then went on to pay tribute to the cheffing skills of my grandmother. Well, if food was the domain of my grandmother, toys was my grandfather’s domain. I had an army of G.I. Joes, He-Man action figures, various avatars of Batman. The aforementioned lamp was from his wallet too. There was this one time, when I wanted a dog that looked exactly like Scooby-Doo. Digger the Dog his name was. He cost quite a pretty penny, but it didn’t take him long to get it for me. Digger the Dog hung around for a long, long time. Pity that he’s not around anymore. Just when I realize how valuable he really was. When I was Tom the cowboy, who bought the guns? He did. When I wanted to watch The Lion King all over again, who brought the cassette? He did. Rain or shine, if it was in Trivandrum, my grandfather would get it for me.

But you know how life is, right? Times change, people change. The cartoons changed. Scooby-Doo became Spongebob Squarepants (utterly hilarious stuff, by the way, don’t miss it). Captain Planet became the Kids Next Door, and before you knew it, the era of anime came by. Most guys my age place Dragon Ball Z on a pedestal, and I am no different. More complex emotions were brought to the fore, without sacrificing any of the fighting I still love and cherish. Suddenly, grey characters had so much more appeal. Guys like Piccolo and Vegeta. Guys who were layered, who were so much more human. To this day, all the anime characters I’ve liked have been of the same mould. Brooding, complex, capable of doing both good and evil and really, really, really cool. It has always been a complaint of mine that these guys never get to take centre-stage. They never get to be THE Super Saiyan. Imagine Vegeta finishing Cell off. He’d do it so much better. Or Kakashi doing a number on Pain. Ah well, you grow up and you lose that taste for the white I guess.

Over time, I’ve realized that growing up isn’t shackling the child inside you. It’s more about giving him high heeled boots, a briefcase and false whiskers. You get what I mean? No? Err, let’s put it this way, I’ve grown up by accepting the child within me. He’ll always be around, taking his nap. Unless, I end up watching Tom and Jerry or The Lion King again. And then, he’ll be up in a flash, running off to the kitchen to see what his grandmother’s cooking, or walking behind his grandfather wondering if he’ll take him to the toy store. These cartoons are inextricably linked with some of the happiest memories of my childhood, reminders of my grandparents when they’re long gone (hopefully that’s a long way away). The Super Saiyans and their descendants shaped my teens, and are adding their finishing touches as I approach the end of my college life. I’ll stop typing now, I need to go watch some football.

What’s that? You think I haven’t grown up? Well, drop in a comment…oh wait. Listen up, if you liked this, come check out the Four Man Wall page on Facebook. It’s a football blog I write for. Even if you think I’m rubbish, do drop in and give us a like, the other three aren’t half bad. Even if you don’t like football, we talk about anything under the sun.

Thanking You,

Yours sincerely,.

#14