Story.

Raja, get in here. That is going to be where you live from now on. That is your house, you like it or not.

She is hardly eighteen, he is all of twenty two. She is naive, and completely unaware of a future. He is bold, intelligent and a man of dreams. She walks quietly by his side, head bowed down under the immense uncertainty of a future. He waves to her family, head held high with all his expectations. She is clueless. He is certain.
The jutka comes to a halt outside the majestic house. As the jutka starts to crawl towards the station with the man and his woman, the woman watches her entire past come crashing down on her,slowly moving away from her: her house, her sisters, brothers, the poonai and the thinnai, the thulasi plant and her dearest lakshmi, the most innocent cow she had ever seen. She finds it hard to come to terms with a different and strange man, his close cropped hair and his smell of an after shave sitting in close proximity, and is terrified of a new place away from her home which she thought would never abandon her. She is completely unaware of the tear drop that slips out of her eye in this melee.
A hand slowly brushes the tear off. She is afraid.

Amma, he is making fun of me. He keeps tugging at my kudumi.

Sheis now the mother of three adorable children. He is busy making plans for his children. She teaches them with love. He teaches them arithmetic. She nurtures them. He sets targets. She forces herself to grow up. He cannot stop behaving like an adult. She looks at everyone around her with kindness. He makes wary observations about people. She cannot but help thinking about her old house and her family. He cannot stop thinking about the future.
She is now the queen of the kitchen. The entire place is not new. She is a woman. No more the little paavadai dhaavani rajaathi. She is not even called that anymore. All of a sudden, she is amma. Little things look at her with their cute little eyes, rajaathi like eyes. She is old. She notices new lines on her face. She can no longer run around. She tires easily, but does not admit fatigue.

Granny, you have to come and watch this tree!

She now has white hair, full of wisdom.  He is frail, and fails to make sense of the headlines in the newspaper. She caresses the hair of her grandson. He frowns at the newspaper and throws it onto the oonjal admitting defeat. She smiles, and whispers into her grandson's ear. The little boy walks across the hall and slowly pats the old man on his back.
The man looks at the woman. The woman smiles. She is reminded of the jutka and that hand that wiped the tear off her face.
Slowly, she gets up from the koodam and moves into the kitchen, as her grandson follows her-

konjam paal payasam kudu raajathi...