Memories and Musings II - Life in Pondicherry

KAZHUGU MALAI KURUVIKULAM - EAGLE MOUNTAIN AND SPARROW POND

2011-12-22T12:44:00.003+05:30

Last Sunday’s HINDU carried an article on Kazhukumalai, a small township in the district of Thoothukudi in South India. The name of the place, Kazhukumalai simply took me back to my childhood days.

A gramophone and (below) a plate. Pictures courtesy Internet.

Those were the days when people were unaware of things like electricity and running water at homes. No electricity means none of the modern conveniences one has today. The gramophone was the only luxury some homes could boast of, and ours was one of those. We had collected a large number of plates -- this was what records were referred to in those days. This gramophone was operated by hand, winding up the springs that make the record holder revolve, fixing the needle to the stylus (one had to change the needle after the first side was played, to play the other side) We children were not allowed anywhere near this. Not only that we, the youngsters had to beg and nag our elder brother to operate this for us whenever we felt like listening to our favourite songs.

My favourite list included one song which begins with the words, ‘Kazhuku malai Kuruvi kulam’(Eagle Mountain Sparrow Pond) - a song with two stanzas. Even after so many years I felt happy when I found out I remembered the words. The song on the flip side of this record was very rustic, beginning , “Macha vandhidingo thirunalluku” (An invitation to the boy friend to attend a festival).These were not film songs but common “Theru koothu” (street play) songs. As I write, so many of those songs come flooding into my memory. “Indru pole endrum namum Isan namam Pottuvome” (Let us ever sing the praise of Isan the Lord); “Imayam muthal Kumari varai” (from the Himalayas to Kanya Kumari) - this song gave a geographical description of India and also introduced Mahatma Gandhi as the great Indian leader. One Kuravar (gypsy) song I remember well is, “Koodai Muram kattuvom” (Let us weave baskets) Well I can add a few more songs to the list. What I wonder is - could anybody of that era be able to remember these songs? Is there any collector of old Thamizh songs who have these in the collection? I really wonder!!

These records were pushed back to the bottom shelf when songs of films like Chintamani, ThyagaBhoomi Seva Sadanam, Sakuntala,Balayogini and Bhaktha Kuchela became very popular. We had a few Telugu and Hindi film song records also in our collection. I remember how people on the street would stop in front of our house to listen to the latest film songs played on the gramophone. My elder brother was an avid collector of all film songs because my mother really enjoyed listening to them in the evenings, for though they were film songs all most all of them were devotional ones.

When the radio entered our home in the late 1930s the gramophone and the records were handed down to the youngsters and we felt very grown up when our nephews were at the requesting end, begging us to play their favourite songs

Now today only oldies like me think of these things and some days lose sleep also thinking about those “GOOD OLD DAYS.” My youngest daughter told me once that in everyone’s life there are those Good Old Days depending on their age and when life was smooth running for them easy going, without any care. Reading the write up on Kazhuku Malai gave me so much pleasure, it brought back all those old songs to the front of my mind.

How I wish I could sing them out loud and clear! But that is not possible because I can only sing out of tune which even ‘Bathroom singers’ will object to.

'THALAI DIWALI'

2011-11-16T22:22:00.000+05:30

A Diwali rangoli, created by my granddaughters Parvati and Swati

This year’s Diwali was Danielle-Kartik’s Thalai Diwali, the Diwali they celebrate as a couple for the first time. I sent them a mail from which I quote two or three sentences:

“In those days – I am talking about 75 years back -- newly-married couples used to wait eagerly for Diwali, the reason being they had to wait a year or so to start living together as man and wife.

“The boy with his parents used to go his in-laws’ place to celebrate Diwali. If they (I mean the newly-married couple) were lucky they would get a few moments to themselves, to hold each other’s hands and for some daring boys to steal a kiss or two!!”

Kartik and Danielle

Thanking me, Danielle wrote back saying she enjoyed reading my mail, bursting out laughing when she read “steal one or two kisses”.

My parents

Well, life was indeed very different then. My parents got married when my mother was eight years old and my father 14 -- that was in 1902. They were together for 70-odd years, till 1972, when my father passed away. Through thick and thin, through ups and downs, through sadness and happiness they were together bringing up their seven children and settling them in life. They did not understand the word LOVE, for there was no such word in their dictionary, but they cared so much for each other in their own way. Both of them had shared their fears and anguish for each other with me.

My third sister , me and my eldest sister

My three elder sisters were married off when they were 12, 13 and 14, respectively. I was not even born when my eldest sister got married. She was older to me by 13 years. So I have no idea how her Thalai Diwali was celebrated. I was 10 years old when my second sister got married and went to her in-laws’ place within two-three months and was with her husband and his family to celebrate their first Diwali. Since they were living in the same city the whole family was invited for lunch and my sister and Athimbar were presented with new clothes.

With my second sister

Though we are Tamilians, we are third-generation families who have settled in Thiruvananthapuram (capital city of erstwhile Travancore state). We have been more influenced by the culture of Travancore and developed our own style of celebrating Diwali including the Thalai Diwali of newly-married couples.

When my third sister got married and moved over to Trichy with her husband before their first Diwali, gifts were sent to them. I was in Delhi with my husband a month after my marriage. We were sent money to buy whatever we wanted. I was 17-plus when I got married in 1945 and that was regarded as rather late for a girl to be married off. When my 23-year-old niece’s marriage was put off till 1960 because she wanted to finish her graduation, so many comments were passed.

So customs and rituals were being changed to suit each family’s convenience and the times they lived in.

Nowadays there are hardly any set rules and laws. That is only right. With each family having its members spread all over the world it is very difficult to stick to old rules. I feel each family should be given the freedom to celebrate the festivals as they choose to, in their own way.

AN EXPERIENCE

2011-11-01T06:23:00.001+05:30

This evening I was watching an old Tamil movie (20 years old). In one scene, the heroine was choosing earrings in a jewellery shop by holding each earring next to her ears, in front of the mirror. She was unable to decide which to go for. As she was looking in the mirror, trying the latest dangling ones, she was surprised to see another face in the mirror, that of a young man, signalling that this type looks good on her. When she tried another pair, the face in the mirror showed his disapproval. The face in the mirror was all smiles again when she tried the first one once more. That made the decision for her and she bought those earrings and on her way out thanked the youth.

Courtesy Internet

This scene in some way reminded me of what I experienced in a shoe shop in a mall in Chicago this June. I was there with my daughter-in-law Jaishree who was keen on getting me one or two pairs of footwear. Considering my age she made me sit in the waiting alcove saying she would pick up a few samples and bring them over for approval. I took a seat and looking around found a young man occupying another chair. Out of courtesy I said ‘Hello’ and he too responded with a smile and a ‘Hello’.

A young woman came over wearing the slippers she had chosen for the young man’s approval. He gave a thumbs down sign and she went back to choose another pair. She came back with another pair which suited her feet -- black with aqua blue/green design. I liked that colour combination and that must have showed on my face. The young man just looked at my face and gave the girl a ‘thumbs up’ sign. The girl walked back and after a short time came back wearing another pair which did not suit her at all (my opinion). The young man also must have thought so and he shook his head in a negative manner.

This charade went on for about half an hour when Jaishree came with a few pairs of footwear in her arms, apologizing for the delay and asking me to follow her so that we could check the size and for me to choose the ones I liked. I got up saying “Best of luck” to the young man. He looked back at me with disappointment written all over his face and said “What! Are you are leaving? I thought you would help me in deciding which shoes will suit my wife”. I knew he was only joking.

I really enjoyed that half an hour waiting for Jaishree.

THREE WEDDINGS

2011-09-20T22:29:00.006+05:30

Continued from last post

It was in the summer of 2010 Kartik proposed to Danielle, and she accepted while they were holidaying in Rome. As soon as the wedding date was fixed by Danielle we were all informed. I felt very happy and thrilled and wondered whether I would be able to attend the wedding. As things turned out, I had to make plans to attend another family wedding before I could turn my attention to travelling to the US in June 2011.

Rajesh's wedding at Trichur

In the midst of mentally planning as to who would be ready to escort me to Chicago, I received a wedding invitation from Chitra (the daughter of my husband’s brother Viswanathan) informing me her sons were getting married in April this year; the eldest son Rajesh, on the second at Trichur; and Kartik, the younger one on the 17^th at Trivandrum. We were all happy to get this news. I felt really happy for Chitra, who went through a bad phase when she lost her husband in a road accident a few years back. Both Rajesh and Kartik then were in their teens, still students. She herself was seriously injured with innumerable fractures.

It took many months and many surgeries for her to come back to an almost normal and healthy life. In spite of all this she brought up her two sons, as well mannered citizens, giving them very good education. With the moral support of her husband’s family and her own parents and brother, she was able to do this, all the while continuing to work in a bank. What I admire in Chitra is that she has no self pity and she has come out of her ordeal as a very brave person.

A few days before I got the invitation, I had been told by Viswanathan that Rajesh’s marriage was more or less settled, the boy-meet-girl being over and only a few minor details to be finalized. But Kartik’s wedding taking place immediately afterwards surprised me.

When I called Chitra to congratulate her I got to know why. Kartik’s was a love marriage. He had met Parvati when he was a final year student doing his Engineering course and she was a fresher. Maybe it was love at first sight. Once Kartik finished his studies and moved away from Trivandrum they had no chance of seeing each other. They kept in touch through letters and mobiles and decided to be together for life. Chitra gave full support to them on one condition - that they get married only after Rajesh got married. Kartik by this time had started working in San Francisco and settled there. Now that Rajesh’s wedding was fixed, Chitra felt that there was no reason to make Parvati and Kartik wait any longer.

A wedding in the family and that too in Trichur, was carrot enough for me to decide to go there. So it was for Raji, Muthu and Raja. And we were off to Trichur; we had a grand time enjoying the ceremonies which lasted two days. Yes Rajesh’s wedding was a typical South Indian one with the vritham and the kappu kettal for the bride done side by side the morning before the day of the wedding, and the reception the same evening.

Till a few years back the trend was to hold the reception in the evening of the actual wedding day, after the thali kettal, and ammi mithikkal —the main and important rites of the wedding. Nowadays, to suit the conveniences of renting the wedding hall, the reception is held on the wedding eve itself!

Whatever that may be, the general opinion of this wedding was that “Trichur has not witnessed this grand a wedding in the recent past”. Without doubt it was one, with live nagaswaram and typical Kerala cuisine, with different menus for each meal for two days. Not only that, the wedding hall -- a big one -- was packed to its full capacity. An indication of how popular Chitra is in her workplace was the fact that her colleagues at the bank in Ernakulam, 80km away, all turned up for the wedding, from the manager down to the security man.

At T. R. Rama Iyer's cloth shop

We four from Chennai had a good nostalgic time in Trichur, apart from the wedding, visiting old places and landmarks and of course praying at Vadakkunathan Temple and Thiruvambadi Temple. We also visited the cloth shop which still bears the name of my husband’s uncle’s ( T R Rama Iyer) and made some purchases.

Kartik's wedding at Trivandrum. Chitra is seen on the left - in the brown saree.

We were unable to attend Kartik’s wedding. I was told that Kartik’s wedding was a one-day affair with the pudava koda in the morning and the reception the same evening. Yes, the Nair wedding is known as the pudava koda- (gifting a pudava by the bridegroom to the bride). The wedding rites take only half an hour or so.

The bridegroom was received by the bride’s brother and seated at the dais where the bride joined him. After receiving the mundu nerithu from the bridegroom, they exchanged garlands and rings. There was no vritham no malaimattal no oonjal. I was told the wedding feast was a large spread with all the Kerala special prathamans and vegetable dishes.

Three weddings in the family of Trichur Ramakrishna Iyer, great-great grandfather to the three bridegrooms. Each one was conducted differently, but thoroughly enjoyed by one and all.

Concluded

THREE WEDDINGS

2011-08-22T00:51:00.009+05:30

I have a faint recollection that a long time ago I read a serial in the Thamizh weekly 'Anantha Vikatan' --- a serial titled Washingtonil Thirumanam, penned by the famous Thamizh writer Saavi. I am sure many, particularly the members of that era, would remember the title I am referring to. It was a hilarious comedy describing how a South Indian Brahmin wedding was conducted in Washington at the request and funding of a top philanthropist of the US. With all the fanfare like a double Nadaswaram, and gaslights carried on the heads of the Korava (gypsy) for the Mapppillai Azhaippu. All the things needed for the wedding, including the Koravans and gaslights, were flown to Washington by special aircraft. Not only that, to make appalams expert Mamis, women who had the last word in the processing of high class appalams, were also brought to the capital so that they could be factory fresh!!

Expert, outstanding and famous cooks along with their big, big andas, cheena chattis and chatukam and karandhis (large enough to cook for a thousand guests) were also transported by air. Well, to make a long story short the wedding thus conducted was a great success, enjoyed by the whole population of the city. The Press, not to be left behind, gave a good coverage of the wedding!

The above story was published in the late 1960s, when US was out of reach to the common man. It was a dream come true for the first few Indians who were lucky enough to go to that country either as students for higher studies or officials sent on deputations and also for the diplomats getting posted there.

Now it is different. Every Indian household has at least one daughter or son settled there. Their children are no different from other children of other countries growing up there. Inter-marriages are common. Some prefer to come to their native place to get married, others get married in the cities where they grew up.

In June, there was such a wedding in Chicago. My grandson Kartik got married to Danielle, his friend of five years. It was a perfect wedding in every sense of the word, a pot-pourri of two cultures. There was no Mappilai Azhaipu, no vritham, no Kasiyathirai, no Mallai Mattal, no oonjal. There was a Sasthrigal (priest) who conducted the wedding in a very dignified manner with the bare essential rites such as the Vinayaka Poojai, the Kappukettal which the Sastrigal himself did both for the bride and the groom, the Kannika Daanam, recital of the Gothram and then the Mangalya Dharanyam or Thali kattu,( the ‘Mundru Mudichu) or Three Knots.

The first two knots were tied by Kartik, while the third knot was tied by Yamini, Kartik’s sister, as is the tradition. Yamini looked lovely dressed in a blue chiffon saree with a matching orange brocade blouse. The bride equally lovely and graceful was wearing a green chiffon sari and a pink brocade blouse, the groom in a tuxedo but no shoes. Next followed the other rites like the Saptha padi, Aseervadham and lastly the Aarathi.

The civil ceremony followed after a break for cocktails. While the guests were enjoying the drinks and meeting other friends, catching up with each other’s news, the bride and her bridesmaids absented themselves. Shortly, all the guests were seated at their respective tables – yes, there were about fifteen to twenty tables seating eight to ten people at each.

I really appreciated the way the guests were seated. Each table was labeled with the names of the guests, all members of each family in the same table. For example, my children and myself were at one table; the grandchildren were at another table; Jaishree’s mother and her brother, sister and niece with her family at another; known friends together likewise. Each one was made to feel at ease. The food, mainly north Indian, was served on individual plates.

Now, the bride in her really beautiful wedding dress walked down the stairs on her father’s arm followed by the two flower girls and bridesmaids, making a striking entry. From the other side Kartik and his Best Man walked in. It was a beautiful sight. The ceremony was conducted by a padre.

Both Danielle and Kartik took their vows, readily said the two words “I Do” without any hesitation, and exchanged rings. Most eyes (especially those of the parents) turned misty. The newly-married couple exchanged kisses and had the floor to themselves for the first dance as a couple. After this there were speeches, by Kartik thanking every one for their presence, and Jaishree saying a few words about Kartik, about how caring he is to everyone -- in Jaishree’s own words: “A caring son. a caring brother, a caring friend and now a caring husband to Danielle…”

It was then time for every one to get on to the dance floor. Not only youngsters but slightly older couples -- Raji and Muthu, Jaishree and Bala -- also joined them. I felt very happy to see them all enjoying themselves.
I was also thrilled to see three and little girls – seven-year-old Maya and Arundati, and two-year-old Samyukta (three f my great granddaughters) dancing and prancingo all over the place, sometimes by themselves or with any willing partners. Maya’s wish was granted when Kartik found time to dance with her.

Unlike the Washington wedding, for this Chicago wedding there was no need to get anything from India,. There are many outlets in Chicago where one gets all that is needed for any of our functions including the Kalasam and mango leaves!

Two days before the wedding there was a Mehendhi evening organized by Jaishree, in which many relations and friends including the bride’s relations and friends also took part. There were two professionals, girls from India, who did a great job of doing the designs on the hands and feet of children and ladies eager to have it done. Throughout the whole evening there was singing and dancing and merrymaking followed by a very tasty north Indian dinner.

On the wedding eve, Danielle and Kartik hosted a dinner for their relations and friends. This “Rehearsal dinner” (as it is called) for the relations and friends who have come to attend the wedding, was at an Italian place. After the dinner, speeches were made by Bala, Shaun -- one of Kartik’s friends -- and the young brother of Danielle. This was followed by Danielle and Kartik giving gifts to their parents. The bridesmaids too received gifts from the bride. An aunt of the bride was also very generous with her gifts to the parents of the bride and groom, and also to the bridesmaids

The evening and the dinner came to an end with the Ramakrishna clan singing “He’s getting married in the Morning”.

To be continued…..

BEAUTY

2011-05-21T20:10:00.002+05:30

I am happy to say that this is one of the prize-winning entries at the

Dove & Yahoo! Real Beauty Contest organised by Indiblogger.

Beauty means a lot things for me — an old woman who has lived for more than eight decades and has seen, admired and enjoyed so much beauty. Beautiful people,beautiful places, beautiful works of art, and most importantly, beautiful works of Mother Nature.
Beauty in anything is pleasant to the eyes, soothing to the mind and sometimes makes one’s head feel intoxicated . Such is the power of beauty, particularly if it is nature at work. A beautiful face untouched by artificial make-up ( which is very rare these days) is really a sight for tired eyes. A freshly-opened flower with dew drops shining on it makes one wonder about the power of nature! Sunrise and sunset with a few clouds here there reflecting the sunlight in various hues make me even at this age want to hold on to that beautiful scene for ever and enjoy it forever -- as Keats said, “a thing of beauty is a joy forever”.
Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder is another saying! How true!! A person who has no aesthetic sense will not be able to appreciate beauty in any form or in anything. On the other hand anyone who appreciates beauty will find it lurking somewhere, half -hidden half- submerged in everything around us. I feel that such a person is blessed.
A good- looking gentleman (whose wife was just the opposite) was once asked by a cousin of mine as to how he came to marry her and live with her! “Just look at her with my eyes” was his answer!
“Beauty is what beauty does”. I heard this for the first time when I was a young bride of three four months and that too from my husband’s uncle! By some quirk of fate this uncle had to give up his house and had no place to go. So he turned to us and stayed with us for some time. I really liked him and respected him from the moment I saw him. So his staying with us was no big problem for me. In fact I learned a lot from him to my advantage.
Whenever I put a tasty dish on the dining table he used to say “Beauty is what beauty does”. I had never been bracketed with beauty by anybody before and also I had no illusions about myself. But his saying this gave me so much confidence in myself and in my looks.
Mine was an arranged marriage, as was the custom of those days. The girl and the boy were given a chance to see each other and approve of their parents’ selection for the marriage to be finalised . But my husband and myself were given no such choice. We saw each other only after everything was finalised. Because I knew my limitation I used to tease him that he was not given any chance to say NO.
“Beauty is only skin deep” is very much wrong according to me. I put it as beauty is ‘bone deep ’and also “mind deep’. Bone structure plays a great part in making a face as well as the body look beautiful and attractive. I have come across some Adivasi workers in tea gardens in West Bengal whose facial bone structures and the formation of their skull bones make them very attractive; they have features which are much admired and longed for by the modern urban youngsters.
A beautiful face must go with a beautiful mind. If one’s mind is crowded with ugly thoughts these thoughts somehow show on the face and mar ones looks. Likewise, one should not be vain about one’s beautiful looks. This kind of vanity also reflects on one’s face and kills the beauty there. This is neither preaching nor words of wisdom. One gets to know these facts by experience and with age.
Or by reading the story of Snow White and the seven dwarfs.

VISHU OF OUR CHILDHOOD

2011-04-21T21:18:00.002+05:30

Vishukanni this year at my great-granddaughter Arundati's home in Seattle

This year, April 15 was VISHU -- the harvest festival, celebrated all over Kerala. Not only just Kerala. All over the world, wherever there is a Keralite, he definitely celebrates Vishu.

Each house in Kerala puts up a Vishukanni the previous night so that members of the family will be able to see it first thing in the morning, as soon as they get up. In every household, this Vishukanni is arranged by the oldest member of the family, in the pooja room, after all the youngsters have gone to bed.

Vishukanni means the first thing that one’s eyes see on Vishu day. It is all types of auspicious things, arranged, in front of an idol, or picture, of Sri Krishna. Since this is a harvest festival whatever is grown in one’s garden is placed there as an offering, like, bunches of mangoes, coconuts and jackfruits. Two brass lamps (nilavillakku) burn brightly on either side, adding to the lustre.

Vishukonnai - Courtesy keralapicturesgallery.wordpress.com

Bunches of golden-yellow laburnum flowers decorate the display. April is the season when the laburnum blooms in south India. So profusely do they bloom, these trees hang down with their weight – it is a sight not easily forgotten. And that’s why laburnum is known as Vishukonnai in Kerala.

Gold and silver coins are arranged in rows alongside all these. Traditionally, these coins would be given to family members and all those who work for it – both in the household and outside. Nowadays, instead of gold and silver coins, cash is given and this is known as Vishu Kaineetam.

On Vishu morning this year, my thoughts went back to my childhood days and the Vishu of those times. In my younger days, I never saw my mother put up the Vishukanni. When we children were sent to bed there would be nothing to suggest that we would get a treat -- a surprise -- the next morning. Yes, the Vishukanni really was a treat for us children. Why children, it was a treat for one and all!!

My first memory of Vishu in our home was when I was four years old. Our mother woke us -- we three sisters and my younger brothers -- early in the morning, even before dawn, and led us one by one with her hands covering our eyes, taking us to the pooja room and seating us.

My father, waiting for us there, poured a rudrani (a small silver spoon) full of water into our cupped palms. We were asked to apply the water to our eyes. Only then were we allowed to open our eyes and look straight into a mirror -- the centrepiece of the Vishukanni, and look at our faces in the reflection.

In our family the traditional Tamil New Year starts on Vishu day. The belief goes the year would be good or otherwise depending on the first face you see as you open your eyes on Vishu day.

Next our father handed over a gold coin to each one of us, but not for us to keep. We were asked to touch our eyes with it and give it back to our mother.

After that, each one of us got our Vishu Kaineetam -- one small silver coin called a Panam. Its value was one-seventh of a Rupee, or four Chakrams, for 28 Chakrams made a Rupee. This was the erstwhile Travancore State’s monetary system and the rupee was called the Sarkar Rupai. (We also had the British Monetary system too, with rupees annas and paisas; this was known as the British Rupai.) One Panam was just about 15 paisa of today! It was a huge amount for us and we felt very rich.

We did our Namaskarams to God first and then to our parents after which we were let free for the day, to do whatever we wanted.

In the evening, our Athimbar, Mama, as also my mother’s uncles came over to give us Vishu Kaineetam, a Panam from each to each one of us. So by the end of the day we felt very, very rich. The rest of the evening was spent thinking what all to buy for ourselves the next day.

In those days a Rupee could get you a lot of things. For instance, a sovereign (gold coin) and a bag of rice (nearly 100 kilos) cost the same, about 12 to 13 rupees. A six-yard silk sari, woven with a lot of zari all over, cost 12 rupees, a six-yard cotton sari 3 rupees … no wonder we felt we were very rich with a Rupee each on Vishu day.

But, and it happened every Vishu, the next morning we felt no need to go and spend our money. So, before going to school, the money would be returned to our mother.

We had everything we needed thanks to our parents, especially in our mother’s storeroom, which was ever-filled with jars of goodies like murrukku, cheedai, and banana and jackfruit chips, along with sweets made with jaggery (sweets with sugar were rarely made at home on ordinary days).

We children of those days were a happy lot … we were happy walking to our school and back and playing outdoors till darkness fell. By then we would be ready to eat whatever was given for dinner and go straight to bed dog tired.

STRINGS OF DEATH

2011-03-17T18:57:00.002+05:30

An old painitng of a tsunami wave by Katsushika Hokusai (circa 18th century).
Mount Fuji can be seen in the background

When natural calamities occur, like the earthquake and tsunami that the people of Japan faced last week, people take strength from one other and try to rescue survivors and hope for the best. No one can be blamed for such occurrences. But it sets one thinking that this is God’s way of reminding us that there IS a power far beyond our reach, and in no way the humans could compete with Him.

When man-made accidents happen we definitely get angry with the persons who are responsible for such accidents, who take the lives of innocent people. Every morning you open the newspaper to find such headlines ‘Two die in a scooter accident’, ‘Four dead in a truck car collision’, a train accident, and so on and on . It really makes me angry to read these news items. I think that people in a hurry to reach their destination, just forget to be careful about not only their safety but of others too.

What really made me write this post today is a news item I read in The Hindu two days back.

Four-year-old Saira Banu who "was travelling home with her parents on a motorcycle suffered a grievous injury when a thread coated with ‘maanja' used to fly a kite slit her throat".

This is very sad, and my heart goes out to the young parents, who must have been full of dreams for the future of their little girl. The story goes on to say that two boys who were flying the kite were arrested along with the men who sold the maanja (thread coated with powdered glass) to them. Okay! That is how justice is carried out. Will these arrests bring back their child for the young couple!

This news item reminds me of another such incident that took place years back - a long time back. It happened in an Italian city. A man was going home from work riding his motorcycle. All of a sudden a kite flown by some boys fell down and the Italian equivalent of the maanja string that came down along with the kite found this man in its way! It is difficult to believe, but the string simply went on its way decapitating the motorcyclist

Without losing momentum the motorcycle proceeded on the road with the headless rider!! A man driving his car coming from the opposite direction, shocked to see the headless rider, lost control of his car and crashed into a pickup truck carrying iron rods. He died on the spot. Worse, the sudden impact of the crash dislodged the iron rods. Two of them went right through the windshield of the vehicle coming behind and caused the death of the two front-seat passengers!!

Though it is years back that I read this news, it is etched in my memory with indelible ink because of its frightening ferocity. One can find comfort taking things philosophically. “Oh what to do? It is all predestined.” But what about the survivors? Who will comfort them? Their loss is great for them. Nothing will bring back the dead!

Man-made disasters are more frightening than natural calamities!! This is what I feel. Maybe I am wrong.

Courtesy:http://lhs.lexingtonma.org/teachers/cordero/kiteproject/flying.html

NEW ARRIVAL

2011-02-10T08:27:00.003+05:30

On February1 we got the news of an addition to the family - the birth of a baby girl in Seattle, to my grand-children Sankar and Jaisri, a sister to Nino. It was this wonderful news for which we in Chennai were waiting with bated breath. Thanks to the modern-day facilities we were getting an on-the-spot running commentary which made us feel we were also in the same frame. Not only that, within an hour of the baby’s arrival we got a picture of the newborn and we did not have to wait long to see the baby on the web cam. The baby was born in Seattle and it was Sankar who was with Jaisri throughout the ordeal, and the first person to see and handle the baby.

Things were different and in many cases still are different in India so far as I know. Today’s children will not believe that Babuji (my husband) saw our first born when the baby was six months old. Twenty years later too it was not very different. Our eldest son-in-law also belonged to the same category. The reason was very simple. Amongst our people in South India expecting mothers were always taken to their parents’ place for the confinement period - that is the time of delivery and for some days of rest after childbirth. After three months the mother and child, went to her in-laws place for a month or so, after which only she joined her husband wherever he worked.

In the early part of the twentieth century customs and rules were different from my time. In those days men did not venture out so far from their hometown in search of jobs. Traditions and religious rites made it easier for the father also to see and take the baby in his arms as early as the twelfth day itself: it was on the twelfth day the baby had the naming ceremony, which used to be celebrated with a pooja and some religious rites done by the father. Traditions and customs were made pliable to suit the modern life style, the naming ceremony and annaprasanam (feeding the baby solid food for the first time, a ceremony usually conducted when the baby is six months old) have become a part of the first birthday celebration.

In those days unlike today it was not even thinkable that a man could enter the delivery room leave alone be there to see the baby born. In most families, the delivery was at home with the help of a midwife. An elderly, much-experienced grandmother or an aunt would be there to act the part of the nurse, to comfort the to-be-mother and hold her hand and wipe her brows. No one else was to enter the delivery room, not only at the time of the delivery but for the next ten days -- maybe to protect the newborn baby and the mother from infection of any kind.

As lifestyle changes our ideas and notions also change. Our mindset is ready to accept new ideas as well as changing norms. Today, for a father-to-be, it is a matter of one’s own choice whether to be with his wife during childbirth.

Thirty years back when my son and daughter-in-law were expecting their first child neither of the mothers from India was in a position to go to Chicago to be of any help to them. It was my son who was with his wife to give her all the support and solace she needed during the delivery. Not only that, he managed to cook the meals, do the housework and take care of the baby, like giving the baby his daily oil bath (following our family tradition, prepare his food and changing nappies, since the mother was a little apprehensive to handle the small baby for the first few days. All this he managed to do while attending to his office work too. The plus point was he was running his own business.

In India too this system has caught on and many men of today are proud to take care of their newborn babies. I wish more and more men in India too start this habit of being with their wives during the birth of their children so that they could know what the womenfolk go through and not treat childbirth as a routine job!!

Following the system in some other countries, the Japanese government has introduced paternity leave of two months. I remember having read in the papers that the Japanese prime minister was the first one to avail himself of this new rule!!

I do admire such men.

A SCHOOL REUNION... and One That Did Not Happen

2011-01-04T22:26:00.000+05:30

It was wonderful meeting some friends of Sankar (my grandson) whom I have not seen for a long time. Some others I was meeting for the first time - like Ramya and Sarada. All of them who came home were ever willing to sit by me and chat with me. I was totally touched by their affection towards an old person. All these children (yes, they are children to me though they are in their early forties) had come from far and wide to Chennai in the last week of December with a special purpose -- they were the batch of students who had passed out of Vidya Mandir in 1985 to have a reunion and make their bond with the school further stronger.

This took me back to my schooldays and classmates — I have not seen any of them after I got married and went to Delhi in 1945. I wonder sometimes where they would be and whether they are alive or…

I was the youngest in my class and because of that I had to produce a medical certificate so that I could sit for the public exam that year. I said I had not seen anyone of them,that is right. But I do remember their names and their faces and the good times, and sometimes the not so good times, I had with them. We were together for nine years and as I look back I feel it was a wonderful period of my life.

Susan Grace Varkey and Thresiamma were the most beautiful of them and I greatly admired Susan not only for her beauty but also for her kind and friendly nature. We worked together as president and secretary of the Hindi cultural society in the final year of our Plus Two years, known as Intermediate or F.A. (Faculty of Arts)and became close friends. Other names I recall are Parvati Ammal, Kamalambal, Karthiyanani, Saramma Varghese, Ruth Ommen. Mary Jacob, Madhavi, Anna Ipe, Mary M.George, Kanthimathi, Aruna, Ratna Amma, Lily, Kasturi, Daisy James who was very good in sports and Swarnamma. I know for certain that she is no more.

Well, I can easily fill this page with all the names I remember. We were the last batch of students to pass out of The Maharaja’s School for girls in Palayam, Thiruvananthapuram in 1942. That school building was annexed to the College of Science at the end of that academic year and that was the end of our school!!

We did our F.A. in the College for Women in Thycaud. I am putting all this down so that if anybody reading this remembers her school and college days will also remember me. I hope it is not a vain thought. My name in the school and College registers was L. Lalithambal. May I make a request to the children/grandchildren of the above mentioned classmates of mine, who read this page to contact me so that I could gather some news about them. It is a fact that as one grows old, one’s thoughts do go back to one’s younger days

The generations that followed mine were smarter and luckier. They (including my own children) I am happy to say, are in touch with not only their school and college friends but also with their teachers in school as well as in college. The world has become smaller and closer with all the modern amenities -- by pressing one button you reach anyone you want in any corner of the earth.

What made me so sad was something that happened in September. In the second or third week of that month there was an obituary notice in The Hindu about the death of one Dr Susan Mathews along with her photo, address and phone number, also saying she was originally from Thiruvananthapuram. That set a bell ringing somewhere in my memory. Could this be my old, old friend Susan?

I was in two minds whether to call and talk to her people or not. After debating for a day with myself I dialled the number and talked to Meera who introduced herself as Susan’s daughter-in-law. Talking with Meera confirmed what I was thinking, yes, this was the same Susan -- my one-time friend and classmate!! What a way to find out!

Now what is the use? It is too late. What made me real sad was the fact that Susan was living just a kilometre away from where I stay. If only I had known earlier it could have been a wonderful reunion of old timers!

MY SINGAPORE DAYS

2010-12-10T17:28:00.003+05:30

What prompted me today to write about my days in Singapore, after nearly 15 years, is one mail I got from Helen Tan whom I got to know as my son’s friend. Yes, she was introduced to me as Raja’s friend and colleague.


Helen and her husband

Veronica

A very pleasant attractive lady with a smiling face, I liked her very much from the very beginning. She was always the first to wish me on my birthday - even today she is the first - ever since we knew each other. While I was in Singapore I usually got a bouquet of flowers with a beautiful gift signed Helen and Veronica - another colleague and friend of my son. Even after fifteen years of my leaving Singapore we exchange greetings on birthdays regularly, and mail one another once in a while. Six years back on my way back to Madras from U.S. with Raji and Muthu we made a halt at Singapore. Helen came over to meet me and took me out to dinner. Helen’s husband and Veronica joined us and it was an unforgettable evening for me.

At Saint John's Island - the singapore skyline can be seen from here.

Raja started working in Singapore soon after my husband’s death. Once he got settled I too joined him and was with him for a major part of his stay there. This transfer of place and lifestyle was an antidote for me. Everything was new to me. I was fascinated by the people, their life style, the very clean roads, the shopping centres, the food courts - well, by everything I saw. I was shown around the whole city in the first few weeks by Raja, - the Bird park, the zoo, the Botanical Gardens Sentosa Island, Saint John’s Island where I got a chance to get near the waves and paddle for some time, Teka Market on Serangoon Road, and the British Council library.

I was also tutored to travel by bus and taxis by Raja. Once he was satisfied that I was well-tutored and knew the ropes well, the running of the house was entirely left in my hands with enough cash, a Bus pass and the British Council cards. He also provided me with walking shoes and a track suit. He encouraged me to wear them and go for walks.

For the first few days I was very self conscious wearing the pants and tops. Here I must add that I wore only sarees ever since I was fourteen years old. I felt odd and unsure of myself for the first few days. Gradually I got used to that outfit and the morning walks were something I started looking forward to. On my way back home after the walk I did the shopping for our daily needs like milk bread and vegetables. This shop was run by a Chinese couple. They did know a little bit of English, but I was a zero in Chinese, still we were able to communicate with each other. Raja was in Singapore two months ago. He told me that he dropped into the same shop as he was passing by. The shopkeeper recognized Raja and enquired about me also. I felt glad when I heard that. I always feel happy when I do my shopping in individual shops rather than in departmental stores and supermarkets. There is always the personal touch such as ‘Hello’ and ‘How are you?’ I truly belong to, and believe in old customs like these.

Raja was working with The New Paper, an afternoon paper brought out by the Straits Times group. So his working hours were from five in the morning to one in the afternoon. Raja had his day filled with his own activities like playing tennis, going to pubs in the evenings to listen to music and dining out with friends. But once every week he took me out for lunches and dinners and introduced me to Mexican and Mediterranean,Chinese and also Singapore delights. As days went by I became very confident in doing things on my own—taking a cab to Serangoon Road to shop for vegetables and provisions, travelling by bus to the British Council library to pick up books and C.Ds. I lost all my inhibitions and started enjoying my life in this new place.

One woman selling coconut - grated on the spot - always gave us odd looks when once in a while Raja came with me to do the shopping. I did not understand why. The mystery was solved when my grandson came along with me once to Serangoon Road. The coconut seller seeing Sriram, with me instead of Raja was awestruck at first, then asked pointing to Sriram, “New boyfriend?” I could not control my laughter when I told her that he was my grandson and I also informed her that the gent who came with me the other times was my son.

Scrabble!

Once in a while Raja brought home his friends from office either for breakfast (nine to nine-thirty am break for food)or for dinner. I enjoyed cooking different dishes for them. I am sure they too relished my preparations. Many of Raja’s friends from India and other places used to stay with us when in Singapore or spend their free time at our place. Soon they befriended me too. I enjoyed playing Scrabble with them:I doubt if they enjoyed the game as much as I did for they found it rather difficult to beat me!

While in Singapore I was exposed to new entertainments also, about which I had only read. Raja took me to concerts of Ray Charles , to an opera and a Russian Ballet, all my firsts and I enjoyed them to the full. We made a trip to Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia, where we stayed for two days with one of Raja’s friends and did visit some famous places like the Batu caves, a famous Chinese Temple and the Botanical Gardens. From there we went to Penang - a beautiful island where we stayed for another two days in a beach-front hotel named Rasa Sayang. Though I have read about people sunning themselves with minimum clothes, I saw them for the first time here.

On the first evening while we were having our dinner our waiter brought one of the exhibits there, a Pallankuhzi to our table asking me whether I knew what it was. Well, I told him it was a game played with either very tiny seashells or Manchadi and had to explain how it was played. That was one indoor game I used to play with my grandmother and mother when they had the time to relax. I remember I have played this game with my children too.

Another experience was riding on a cycle rickshaw, or trishaws as they are called there. The funny part of these trishaws was that the seat for the passengers was in the front while the rickshaw man would be behind us, pedalling the cycle. He pedalled so fast I felt we might fall on the road any minute.

Another place that got my attention was a street with a lot of shops selling grinding stones of both varieties like the ammi kozhavi (for grinding masalas and coconut and the other the attukal for grinding rice and dal for the dosai iddili dough.

Singapore holds a festive look with various types of decorations and illuminations during Diwali (Deepawali as they like to call it), the Ramzan month (which they Hari Raya) and the Christmas and New Year periods. I was seeing this type of illuminations for the first time and I was totally flabbergasted .Thai poosam, a temple festival dedicated to Lord Murugan, is celebrated in this land on a very grand scale with every believer whether Indian or Malay or Chinese taking part in the procession of devotees carrying Kavadis and Palkudams .

I was totally captivated with whatever I came across in this city. And I feel I am at a loss of words to write more.

Mr. and Mrs.Narayanan

One family I befriended while there is the Narayanans. They were Raja’s upstairs neighbours. From the very start Rani (Mrs. Narayanan) made it her responsibility to take care of me when Raja was out at work or with friends. Rani and Anu, eldest of her three daughters, and me became close friends and are in touch with each other now also.

Anu and her family

I never thought that one could make friends after sixty and maintain that friendship for years. That way I am blessed for I have a good circle of friends who make me think that life at eighty is also worth living!!

GAJENDRA MOKSHAM?

2010-11-14T10:47:00.004+05:30

The above picture is taken from a link my son sent me recently. It reminds me of Gajendra Moksha which happened in a different yuga. Maybe this crocodile , and yet another in a similar incident, were some celestial figures who were cursed by some Rishis for their bad behaviour to remain as crocodiles till Lord Narayana appeared and gave them their original form.

The story goes thus.

Once, Gajendra, the king of elephants was wandering in the forest with his herd. He felt very thirsty all of a sudden. After wandering for some distance the elephant herd came across an inviting pool of water. Gajendra entered the waters to appease his thirst.

A crocodile was lying low in the waters. The elephant was enjoying his drink without being aware of the crocodile .The crocodile, taking advantage of this, caught one foot of the elephant between its teeth and refused to let go, however hard the elephant tried to free himself. Even after a long fight with the crocodile the elephant was not able to free his leg. In despair the elephant called out to Lord Narayana to save him. Lord Narayana came at once flying on His vahanam Garuda. He saved the elephant by killing the crocodile with His discus.

The story goes thus. As soon as the discus touched its body the crocodile got back its original form – that of the gandarva Huhu. He had been cursed by a sage for some misdeed. With the Lord's blessing he went to Heaven. This was what the sage had also said, that the curse would be nullified when Lord Vishnu appeared before him.

The elephant, to show his gratitude, offered Lord Narayana a beautiful, sweet smelling Lotus from the lake.

The elephant, who was king Indrayumna in his previous janmam, had been cursed by a sage for being haughty and proud and that he would be born as an elephant in the next birth, and that he would be free of this curse when Lord Vishnu appeared before him. .

Maybe the two crocodiles in the above mentioned news items are also waiting for their release from their earthly bonds!!

The two links are:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/wildlife/8092390/Baby-elephant-attacked-by-crocodile.html

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2010/11/photogalleries/101111-elephants-crocodile-attack-ambush-africa-pictures/#/elephant-vs-alligator-fight-1_28154_600x450.jpg

DIWALI, FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS

2010-11-06T11:09:00.005+05:30

Today my mind wanders back to those days - my childhood days - the way my parents, no, my mother made preparations for this festive occasion. My father was a non - interfering person in the matter of running the household or how the festivals and other functions in our home were conducted. He left all these responsibilities to my mother. My mother was a very capable lady - a good cook a very cautious spender and one who believed in tradition and customs. We were a big family- four daughters and three sons. There used to be at least one or two cousins staying with us, either studying or on the lookout for proper jobs. Even with such a big family my mother was always particular that all festivals and functions like birthdays of each and every member of the family were conducted in the proper way.

Diwali meant getting a new set of pavadai (full skirt) and blouse some times it turned out to be two sets for the younger girls and a pair of half pants and shirt for my two younger brothers. Today’s youngsters and children will find it very difficult to believe that in those days everyone had only three or four sets of clothes. New clothes were bought only for Diwali and for birthdays. Also it meant lots of patakas and my mother’s Diwali special sweet. The grownups were given the freedom to buy what they needed or wanted. Word would be sent over to our tailor to come home as quickly as possible to take the measurements of every one of us, to find out how much material would be needed. We youngsters used to feel so important and full of pride when the tailor - yes I still remember his name, Hariharan - took our measurements. It was either my eldest sister or my big brother who shopped for the materials needed the same day. Next day the tailor was again called home to collect the materials. He would be given a deadline - a maximum of four days, to bring home the finished products. If by any chance this was delayed there would be a cut in his wages. Maybe he did not want a cut in his hard-earned wages. He was very prompt in delivering the goods. We youngsters would be so anxious to wear and try our new clothes, but our mother was very particular that the new clothes that we could wear them only after GANGA SNANAM—the ritual early morning bath on Diwali day.

Diwali meant a lot of patakas- fireworks. In those days there was no ‘Made in Sivakasi’ fireworks. India was under the British rule and so belonged to the Commonwealth group of countries. India as a country did not manufacture anything. There were no industries, even our school notebooks, pencils, erasers - all of them were imported. As I said to someone the other day, we all grew up with foreign cars, French perfumes like Evening in Paris, Italian soaps, Swiss chocolates, Waterman and Parker fountain pens and of course British authority.

So for Diwali we turned to China, the one country that really gave us the best crackers. Even today my feeling is they top the list. Two days before Diwali my elder brother or my eldest Athimbar took the responsibility of buying the patakas while we youngsters waited for them to come back home with the patakas. I remember vividly one Diwali time of those days - my brother coming back from the market empty handed with the news that all the patakas were sold out by the time he reached the shop! Were we disappointed? Yes, to the pit of our stomachs. We ran to our mother for comfort and more for complaining. My mother led us back to the front veranda all the time smiling to herself. Then we knew that our brother was simply teasing us. A coolie was there with a big basket on his head and my brother helping him to unload the basket which was packed with all kinds of fireworks. Our joy was also brimming to the top of our hearts. No one will believe me today if I tell you that the whole basket full of patakas cost my brother only Rs. Five!!

The day before Diwali my mother would be very, very busy making the dough for iddli - a must in the Diwali day breakfast menu, the grinding too to be done manually. The sweet prepared in every household in our parents’ families on this occasion was OKKARAI* - laddus and jangiris were made only for weddings in the olden days Also there were no shops preparing and selling these items.

Come Diwali morning, my mother was the first to have her bath by three a.m. after which she would be busy waking up all children, apply oil on our head and giving us a quick bath. Then only we were allowed to wear our new clothes after which we were made to touch our parent’s feet to get their blessings. Then came the interesting part of the day, bursting the patakas.

By seven in the morning breakfast also was served--- iddlis with coconut chutney (freshly ground on the grinding stone), paruppu (thuvar dal)vadai and the sweet Okkarai

Looking back I really wonder how my mother and many like her managed all this single-handed.

Today with all the modern gadgets and help from many sources life is much easier for the lady of the house. Ready-made clothes, sweets, why even ready-made iddli dough are all available in the market. But there is one shortage in many households! And that is TIME. Precious time with women too working, working as hard as any man! Added to that in most families she is the one to do the shopping, cooking and taking care of the children’s needs. Blessed are the women when the men understand the women’s problems and give them a helping hand.

HAPPY DIWALI

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*RECIPE for OKKARAI

One measure thuvar dal

Equal measure of jaggery

Equal measure of grated coconut

Two tablespoons of ghee

Cook the thuvar dal in the pressure cooker. wait for one whistle, turn the gas low for 15 minutes. wait till the cooker is well cooled and then only open it. Grind the coconut well in the grinder then add the cooked dal and run the grinder for ten seconds. Melt the jaggery in a cup of water and strain to remove all the impurities. Boil the jaggery syrup, when it thickens add the dal coconut paste. Lower the flame and allow the mixture to thicken all the while stirring with a flat ladle. Add two table spoonfuls of ghee. Go on stirring till the mixture gets dry and turns to be powdery. Allow it to cool before serving. This sweet usually stays fresh for nearly a week.

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

2010-10-18T22:11:00.002+05:30

Recently on my post on Navarathri a comment was left by someone called Mona.

Here it is.

Dear Maiji
Really love reading your blog, I am amazed at your creativity whether it is your golu or knitting things for your g. g child.
My question is: despite having a large family and all its requirements, you found time to do all these things in a unique way.
How did you prepare for it? How did you organize yourself so that everything went smoothly?
We have a lovely golu every yeat, but I am lost when it comes to preparing food or snacks for guests. I get overwhelmed. Any tips ? How must I plan this event so that it goes smoothly and I don't sacrifice time spent with family, or shortcuts because I concentrate on the golu and visitors.
Please help/ anticipating your response October 13, 2010

Mona has asked me some questions and I find it very difficult to reply to them. My memory also seems very reluctant to surface and help me. Certain things I remember very well - like my family helping me by making no undue demands on me during the Navarathri time In fact my family, including my husband's parents, used to help me in many ways.

Every year I used to plan well in advance what the theme would be. No details. And I also used to start my kolu work well in advance say ten to fourteen days before the actual date. Once I started, ideas just surfaced to my mind regarding how to do this or that. Accordingly I worked on. After finishing my routine work like

cooking, getting the children ready for school, seeing to the needs of the elders I was able to organise my kolu details. Also if I remember correctly, however much inconvenience was caused, my family just took it in their stride.

Mind you, in those days (I mean the period of my kolu days) there were no kitchen gadgets. And no gas cooking ranges. It was either kerosene oil stoves or firewood ovens .I was not opposed to heavy work as I always looked forward to the end rewards and results Getting up in the morning at five was not at all bothersome to me, and staying up late if there was some work to finish was not at a problem. Above all these, I had willing helpers in my children. I should not forget to give credit to my maid and the gardener too.

I do not remember anything more .It is more than thirty five years since I had my last kolu. My only regret is that there are no photographs of my beautiful and much appreciated kolus.

APPAN CHEYAL

2010-08-26T10:16:00.008+05:30

Far back in my childhood this word Appan Cheyal was always linked with my name. I don’t remember how this started or why! All I remember is that my elder brother as well as my eldest ‘Athimbar’ (my eldest sister’s husband) had chosen the man with this nickname for me to marry.

This nickname belonged to one Mahadeva Iyer. He was related to my eldest sister by marriage. He was a widower and was very rich. He was the wealthiest person of that time, owning acres of agricultural land all over the area he belonged to. He was a very God-fearing man and with every breath used to utter these two words ‘Appan cheyal’ which meant ‘God’s will’. That is how he got the nickname.

He life style was like that of a zamindar, and as any zamindar of that era he was always well turned out with gold ‘Kadukkan’ (solid gold earrings), gold ‘kappu’ (solid gold bangle), a thick gold chain with a ‘Rudhraksham’ encased in gold round his neck and a walking stick with a solid silver handle. This description was given to me by my brother and brother-in-law telling me that he was the one chosen by them to be my husband, adding that he was not that old. His being sixty and me six the age difference was a mere zero, they teased. Here my memory does not help me so I cannot say how I reacted to this teasing.

By and by my brother started adding to this saying that our parents wouldn’t have to spend too much on my wedding. Appan cheyal being a rich man he would not demand anything from my father. But to send me to my in-laws’ place empty-handed would not be right, my brother added. So he would say that I would get as dowry my mother’s old silver, bronze and brass utensils, my mother’s equally old steel trunk, which was given to her on her marriage, and my parents’ old double cot – which had been pensioned off a few years back.

As I grew older I became aware of the teasing and its meaning. I started to resent it which only added to their teasing. My brother came out with a slogan repeating it whenever we came face to face. My sisters and even my mother enjoyed the slogan very much.

The slogan went like this

Engathu Lalithavuku kalyanam
Kottumelam kovililey
Avaravar athiley sappad
Vettilai pakku kadailey

This meant
"Our Lalitha is getting married
The nagaswaram is played in the temple
Every one eats in his own home
And gets the betel leaves and nuts from the shop."

This teasing went on till I was ten years old, when my brother left home and went to Benares for higher studies.

Years passed and soon it was time for me to get married. It was my brother who went to Thrissur to meet my to be in laws and fix up everything with them Coming back from Thrissur he told me that he was sure that I would be very happy in the alliance.

Contrary to all the teasing my marriage was a grand affair with all the elite of our place attending the function. In those days a wedding was graded by two items, the nagaswara vidwan and the caterer. The nagaswaram was played by the then famous Ambalappuzha Brothers and the caterer was the famous Karamanai Appu.

Only one of my brother’s teasings came true. World War II had just ended before my wedding. There was a scarcity of many essential things. The availability of goods was also very rare and if available the prices were sky high. Because of this, I was given as my dowry the family’s silver and other utensils.

And as my brother had told me I had a happy married life.

Olan : A Dish to Remember

2010-07-24T18:04:00.000+05:30

For lunch today, my daughter Gowri requested me to make to make Olan -- a Kerala side-dish to go with Mor-kootan. Mor-kootan was subsequently dropped from the menu and Gowri made her special “short way” sambar instead. (The way she makes it is so tasty and well-flavoured; we all enjoy it to the last drop.) Gowri also prepared a side-dish for Mohan since he had no liking for Olan. Having Olan for lunch brought back several memories, memories which led me to write this blog.

I suddenly remembered that day in Lakshmi Nivas in 1944. There was a Solar Eclipse on that day, the eclipse starting at 8am and ending at 11. My mother, who adhered to each and every rule prescribed in the sastras, was wondering how and what to cook well before the start of the eclipse. The sastras said that cooked food should not be exposed to daylight during the eclipse period. My father, after his retirement from service, had his lunch at 11 in the morning everyday, come rain, come shine. Well, my mother with suggestions from my father (which she never took seriously) got up much earlier than her usual time, had her bath (one never cooked a meal in those days without having taken a bath and changed into fresh clothes) and cooked the simplest of meals – but my father’s favourite one, Arachu kalaki and Olan.

The Olan I prepared today tasted exactly the same as the one my mother made that day for I have never forgotten that day or the taste of that Olan.

This also reminded me of certain food fads of my father, his likes and dislikes. He never had any liking for sambar -- or any curry with tamarind (pulli or imli), which he always referred as chappu-chavaru (mere junk). At the same time, he could not resist the temptation of tasting the sambar with his curd rice and later on putting the blame on my mother if the sambar upset his stomach even minutely. Even Prathamans, a sweet dish prepared with daliya (broken wheat or lentils such channa-dal or moongdal), he liked them with only jaggery and coconut milk, no chappu- chavaru like channa dal or daliya. He was a choosy eater but was willing to try any ideas which his fellow-Masons put into his head.

During my college days, when my mother visited her mother or my two elder sisters in town, it was my turn to prepare the sweet dish my father had for dessert, after having two light crispy dosais with chutney. This sweet, prepared with green gram jaggery and coconut, was also recommended by his friends in the ‘Lodge’.

The first time I visited my parents after my marriage, my father used to have two Masala-dosais and chutney for dinner. Every evening, without fail, my mother just peeled and cooked two potatoes and made the masala with onion, green chilies and ginger. When my parents visited us while we were in Pondicherry, my mother simply followed her routine to give my father his special dinner.

Watching her doing all this, even after she was past 65, my eyes used to fill with tears; such devotion and such loving care. Those were the days when there were no electrical kitchen gadgets and all the work was done manually. Grinding for dosai and idlis in a grinding stone was no easy task. Wherever they were, my mother always prepared my father’s dinner herself.

My mother pampered my father by indulging in fulfilling all his whims and fancies. Her home-made Appalams were appreciated and enjoyed by all in the family as well as our near and dear ones. But my father preferred the Pappadams sold in the grocery stored. He never liked them fried but roasted on a charcoal fire.

Coming back to Olan and our lunch today, Gowri served a spoonful to Mohan and asked him to taste it. Very reluctantly, he did so. He liked it and said that it was very different from what he had tasted before. What really surprised both Gowri and me was that Mohan asked for more Olan to eat with his curd rice. I was in fact gratified and my face broke out in smiles.

My recipe for Olan (for 4 people)

Pumpkin – green or red, ½ kg
Long Beans – 6-8
Potatoes – 2 medium-size ones
Green Chili – 4-5, cut lengthwise into four
Curry Leaves – 2 stalks
Milk extracted from half-a-coconut

Cut the pumpkin into one-inch square, about 1/8 inch thickness
Cut the long beans into one-inch long pieces
Peel and cut the potatoes into thin rounds
Cook the long beans in one cup of water. When they are half-cooked, add the pumpkin and potato pieces. Add salt when the vegetables are cooked. Then add the green chili and curry leaves. Allow it to boil once and remove from the fire. Add the coconut milk and serve.

A CUP OF TEA

2010-06-23T20:09:00.017+05:30

The vast expanse of bushes in a tea garden

Some like it hot, some like it cold, some with milk and sugar and some just plain black. Some have it with a dash of nimbu (lemon) and some with a pinch of salt. But all of us go for a cup of tea when we are tired or thirsty or just bored with life thinking a cup of tea will cheer us up. Masala tea really peps us up when we are travel weary, as well as on wintry cold days.

Tea is a universal drink. People do love a good cup of tea any time of the day .Each and every tea drinker has her or his own way of making that cup of tea. The English people were (I am talking about those good old days – I do not know about these days) very particular about making their tea. First wash the teapot with hot water, measure three –four (as need be) cups of water to boil, put three or four (again as need be) spoons of tea - that is one spoon for each cup and one for the pot, add the water once it starts boiling to the tea in the pot and allow it to brew for three minutes. I myself have made many cups of tea this way. I have to mention here in those days tea leaves were prepared in a different way. Today tea is manufactured in the C.T.C. manner. C.T.C. means cutting, tearing and curling.

Good tea is the product of good leaf. Good leaf depends on the age of the tea bush and regular pruning of these bushes. Plucking of the tea leaf (two leaves and a bud) starts in early morning and goes on till late afternoon. I understand that the leaf plucked in the morning makes the best end product.
Women carrying the plucked tea to the factory

Every plucker has to pluck the stipulated amount fixed for each day. Plucking more means the plucker gets more wages and less means less. Once the plucked tea leaf is weighed and noted for record each day, it is transported to the factory where the processing is done.
Workers readying the tea for the withering trough

The withering trough

Black tea processing is done in three stages - withering, rolling and fermentation. The first stage is removing the moisture; that takes 16 to 20 hours. This also determines the quality of the tea produced and also the aroma. The second stage is rolling which breaks the leaf and stalk into small pieces. The last stage is fermentation which is done by laying the rolled leaf in thin layers in sifted portions in a plain room conditioned with humidity and a fixed temperature.

The CTC roller

A heap of CTC tea - all sorted and ready to go into the bag

Retail tea is a blend of different grades by mixing the product of a variety of tea gardens and sometimes from more than one country of origin. Blending of tea is done by expert tea tasters.

While having that cup of tea I wonder how many of us think or bother to know how much effort is put in to bring that tea to one’s table. Personally speaking, I never bothered about it because we never had tea at our home unless we had guests or visitors who were tea drinkers. We were sworn coffee addicts. All this changed when our youngest daughter got married to a tea planter some twenty odd years ago. We were introduced to garden fresh tea and it tasted nothing like the marketed tea we had back home. It was wonderful. tea with a full flavor and fresh-smelling. There is no after taste in a cup of real good black tea. Nowadays I start my day with a cup of lemon tea. I have now turned into a tea addict.

Tea laid out for tasting

Having spent a good deal of my life in the last ten and odd years in the tea garden with my daughter and her family I have realised that it takes a lot of work, effort and responsibilities for the tea planter to bring that cup of tea to the table. The tea gardens are either owned by individuals or belong to incorporated companies, based in Calcutta. Every tea garden is under a manager. He has with him four or five assistants to help run the garden and also the usual clerical staff. The manager is responsible for the smooth running of the garden and the factory in each garden that turns the fresh leaves plucked daily into ready to pack products. He is answerable to the higher authorities in Calcutta not only for matters connected with the smooth running of the garden and the factory but also for damages caused in the garden because of natural calamities like unseasonal rains, hail storms, drought or excessive rains.

Almost all the tea gardens in the Dooars area are surrounded by forests. Hence there is always the danger of wild beasts like elephants, leopards and wild bison entering the Tea gardens. The elephants are the most feared ones. They come in hordes of fifteen and twenty and are capable of causing too much damage. They usually enter the labour lines at dusk attracted by the smell of cooking. These animals also go to the vegetable gardens of the bungalows in search of corn and fruits. They pull down the houses of the labourers, sometimes even attacking humans. There are times when these elephants kill people if they are not in good mood. Uprooting trees and tea bushes are mere child’s play for the elephants. But this is always a source of headache for the manager. This is all because humans have entered into animal territory and the animals are kind of showing their protests. This is only my reasoning.

The English were in power in India when tea cultivation started in this country. They were very clever in settling down comfortably in the colonies occupied by them. Likewise in the tea gardens too they made life easy and comfortable by building big airy bungalows for themselves. (These types of bungalows are seen all over India even today in the district head headquarters. In those days these bungalows were meant for the District Collectors and Inspectors of Police) The tea culture and the life for the people working in tea gardens were styled by the English planters equal to the life style they had left behind in their home towns. Every garden has the manager’s bungalow on this style and smaller ones for the assistants and the doctor. The doctor in each garden who is in charge of the hospital is available twenty four hours to the needy labourers as well as the managerial staff and their families.

The ‘Labour lines’ are where the workers in the tea garden have their houses. Each Garden has some thousand to thousand five hundred workers some permanent and some temporary. They are given free houses - two roomed with a kitchen and bathroom. They are provided with heavily subsidised rations, free firewood and free water supply and free medical care. They keep their homes in good shape – I am told - some of them with good furniture. Most of them own TV sets too. I have seen the small plot of yard in front of some of these houses, they are well kept with many flowering plants. There is a crèche to take care of young kids while the parents are working. Education is free up to Middle school. Even with all these facilities given to the workers they are never satisfied. They are always making new demands for more wages or increased bonus which they get annually during the Puja season. The worker’s demands are instigated by different party and union leaders. To pacify the union leaders and the workers and bring a settlement between the workers and the Head Office in Calcutta is the manager’s responsibility.

All said and done, the manager’s life is not a peaceful one. It is there with him all the twenty four hours. Some times his family has also to bear the brunt of it. With all these handicaps if he produces that good cup of tea I enjoy, I salute him. LONG LIVE HIS ILK.

HOW I SHOCKED A POLICEMAN

2010-05-25T06:47:00.004+05:30

While in Delhi for more than forty years of my married life, I always enjoyed the winter months - though we did not then have most of the modern gadgets like washing machine and grinders, or running hot water. The reason being one never felt tired however much housework one did. And sitting in the sun, knitting or reading was the ultimate luxury for me.

Come November, it would be time to take out the woollens and inspect them, whether the children’s school sweaters and coats could be managed for one more winter or new ones had to be ordered or knitted, and sending my husband’s suits to be dry-cleaned. Then all our cottons had to be aired and packed up till the next summer. That was the time for all our cotton\summer clothes also to have their annual rest.

Come the month of March, it was time to pack up all the winter clothes and get ready for the summer. This time a lot of physical work was to be put in. All the sweaters had to be hand-washed (all pure-wool knitted—as acrylic was not on the scene yet) one by one for fear of running colours that might spoil the knitteds, and then dried flat on a Turkish towel in the shade. It used to at least take two days for the sweaters to dry - so just imagine how many days it would take for the sweaters of two or three adults and three or four children’s to be washed, dried and have them packed in boxes till the next winter. It was the same routine for all housewives.

There was a break in this routine one March in 1974. My husband’s and my children’s sweaters were washed and ready to be boxed. That day it was my sweaters turn. There were about five or six new cardigans, all acrylic and gifts from my daughter on her return from Manchester after a two year stay there. They were drying in the back yard and as usual I was babysitting them . I was alone in the house, so when the phone rang I went inside to answer. It was a wrong number. It took about five minutes for me to return to the backyard. What I saw there I could not believe; the old couple of sweaters were there alright – the new ones had disappeared. I was lost for a few minutes. I did not know what to do. Then I rallied myself and got in touch with my husband and told him what had happened with tears running down my cheeks.
Can you imagine what he told me? “Forget the whole thing”. I got so wild that I asked him to use his position and report to the police about the theft .He flatly refused. I knew he was right in a way so I did not force him also. When our children back from school, I told them about the incident, and they were annoyed about the whole thing. Our second daughter was the one who was most affected —I still remember how she ran all over the lanes and by lanes in our colony to find out if some body was hiding somewhere with the loot, but it was of no use. For a week she was always on the lookout for any suspicious characters wandering about inside our colony.

Well, as days passed, I gradually learnt to accept the fact that I had lost my new sweaters for ever.

One evening in late May there was somebody at the door wanting to see the man of the house. My husband was not at home so I went to the veranda to greet him and to find out the reason for his wanting to meet my husband. He introduced himself as police Inspector X and wanted to know whether any theft had taken place at our place a few months back. Honestly, I had forgotten the loss of my sweaters, and having answered him in the negative wanted to know the reason for his asking that question, and why he was interested.

“This boy here tells me that he had stolen a few sweaters from this house two months back,” and pointed to a teenager, poor, and dressed in shabby clothes standing by his side, carrying a small tattered suitcase in his hand. I remembered like a flash how my sweaters suddenly disappeared from the backyard. I told the policeman that in fact we lost a few sweaters round about that time and we had no hope of ever getting them back. Mr. X ordered the boy to open the suitcase .Inside were a few sweaters - some of them my given-up-for-lost ones. There were about eight or nine sweaters. Having looked through them I pointed out which were mine and told him that two of mine were not there. I was told that the boy had sold one of them for a mere Rs 2 to buy a cinema ticket and another for a meal. After confirming the theft the police Inspector asked me whether we had reported the theft to the police. “ No, my husband did not want to do that”

“Why?” was his next question and he wanted to know where my husband was working.

When told he was a government servant he started saying how the people working in the ministries have a very poor impression and opinion of the police, whereas they think too much of themselves and so on. He went on in this strain for a few minutes which really raised my hackles. I stopped him in mid-sentence and said, “Please get out of my house if this is the way you talk about my husband and you take those sweaters also with you. I don’t want them back”

That shut him up .He was at a loss and did not know what to say. He never expected that from me. After a few seconds he asked me in a timid voice, “In which ministry is sahib working?” Home ministry was my answer in a clipped tone.

“What is his designation?”

“Director, Police”

How I wished I had a camera in my hand to capture all the expressions and emotions that passed through his face on hearing my answer. Gulping and stammering he said, “Sorry Sir, I mean, Madam, please never tell sahib what I said. I am sorry I said that, Sir, I mean Madam, please. Madam, you may come to the S.N Police Station tomorrow, put your signature on the identification paper (or some such paper—I don’t remember now) and collect your sweaters, Madam.” I simply waved him off from my home after a very curt thank you. Also I told him there was no question of my going to any police station or anywhere to get back those sweaters

Every single word was repeated to my husband later that night after dinner. He was equally shocked to hear that I had asked the policeman to get out of my house.

I did not know what happened the next day in his office - like who met him or talked to him about the policeman’s visit to our house. All I was told by my husband was there was a note of apology from the police Inspector. The sweaters were sent home later the same evening. I was reluctant to touch them at first. Any way we had them dry cleaned and those sweaters served me well for a long time.

GLAUCOMA - AND COPING WITH IT

2010-05-12T15:55:00.006+05:30

Glaucoma is one word I had not heard of till I fell prey to it some twenty years back. I was in Singapore in 1991—staying with my son –a sport journalist.
I had lost my husband four years earlier and was a total wreck. Raja – my son –was the one who helped me regain my sanity – infusing so much confidence in myself, helping me back to have a busy life in this new country. He encouraged me to do things on my own—like going to the British Council library to get books to read, going to the shops on my own to buy whatever I needed for myself or for the house, and most important- to go for walks.

It was during one of these walks I felt something was wrong with my vision. While waiting for the traffic signals to change to cross the road, I was not able to see the cars coming from my left side till they were right in front of me. I thought I was getting cataract as I was above 60 at that time. So I decided to go to Bombay to stay with my daughter Viji who at that time was working with an NGO helping cancer patients. She had contact with many doctors. With her help I saw an optician who, after listening to my problem suggested that I consult a glaucoma expert and sent me to one.

This specialist, checked my eyes and did a field test, and advised me that it was a seriously advanced case of glaucoma. He said I should have surgery as soon as possible, within two days if possible to save the vision – whatever that was left of it -- in my left eye. He advised me to go to Sankara Netralaya in Chennai where I could get the best treatment. So off I flew to Chennai to my eldest daughter Raji who, in the meantime, managed to get an appointment with the chief of that institution for the next day itself.

Thus my treatment started. I was put in the care of Dr L Vijaya who appeared to be very efficient at the same time kind and considerate. I was under her care for the next eight-nine years. During this period I underwent three surgeries, in both my eyes, for glaucoma as well as for cataract which, by this time, had set in and was ripe for surgery, done by Dr Vijaya herself.

Glaucoma is caused when pressure is built up in the eyes. This pressure then starts crushing the optical nerves, which get damaged and start affecting ones vision. And that is when one becomes aware of it, only after this damage is done. That is why glaucoma is referred as a thief disease.

I was told I had lost 85% of my vision in my left eye. The first stage of treatment was laser surgery, done to relieve the pressure on the optical nerves by drilling minute holes in my eyeball. After this I was asked to apply eyedrops – Pilocar, four times a day, and Timolol, three times a day -- till two further surgeries were performed.

After a year or two of stumbling steps, I learnt to take this drawback in my stride and have continued with my life without much problem for the last so many years. I am doing everything I was doing before I was affected by this: knitting, reading, cooking whenever I feel like it, and am now typing this blog on my netbook, too. (as in the picture)But I have stopped going for walks on my own --- I am not allowed to do that by my children wherever I am, so I have to do with walking inside the compound or on the terrace.

Another disadvantage, with practically no vision in one eye, is I am not able to gauge the depth of things. This has led to minor inconveniences. Going down the stairs is a problem. I need the help of another person or I have to cling on to the banisters. Also, when I want to put a glass on a table, I find it difficult to gauge the distance between them. In unfamiliar situations, I let go of the glass an inch above the table as a result of which I spill things, or worse, break glasses. Then when hanging out clothes to dry, it is very difficult for me to locate the clothesline; it is always a few inches this way or that way from where I see them.

The main reason why I am writing all this is that at the very beginning itself Dr Vijaya alerted me that this glaucoma is hereditary and so my children should have periodical eye checkups. I remember my mother telling us that her grandmother lost her vision in her old age. Could she have had glaucoma? Who knows?

Anyway, it is proved now that glaucoma IS hereditary because my daughter Viji has been affected by it. She discovered she had it only four months ago but Dr Vijaya, whom also she consulted, is of the opinion it must have started at least a year back because my daughter’s right eye is badly affected.

I request all my family members and all who read this not to ignore any discomfort you feel in your eyes. Please have an eye checkup at the earliest and save your sight. Some symptoms are a dull but heavy feeling ache in your eyeballs which I used to feel in the early days. Also powerful lights trouble the eyes, giving a lot of glare. Light beams reaching one’s eyes are broken: the stars one sees seem like a comet. Actually I have not seen a single star without a tail for the last so many years, not that I am able to spot any.

Please don’t think glaucoma affects only grownups. It could attack anyone at any age Even babies are affected by this. NO, I am not alarming anybody, just trying my best to make one aware of this. All I want to say is be on your alert and don’t ignore your eyes.

A slightly different version of this was published in the May issue of a Chennai publication, 'Eve's Touch'.

TV ADS

2010-02-13T23:49:00.002+05:30

There was a Book Fair in New Delhi from Jan 30th to Feb 8th. My son, with whom I am staying now in Delhi, was working in a friend’s stall there. So for that period of time I was left to myself from 9am to 9pm as my son lives alone, a confirmed bachelor. To have some kind of noise in the house I turned to the TV, or rather, switched on the TV.

I rarely watch TV. If at all I do, it is only Malayalam movies or very old Tamil ones. Even there I am very choosy and selective about what I watch. But during the ten days I was by myself I was exposed to the world of television commercials. So much so, I started seeing commercial in my dreams.

Personally I feel these commercials are frustrating. It is ages since one has watched a programme on the TV without these ads butting in. They are there in the 30 minutes allotted for the news even. Whenever a cricket match is televised one gets only glimpses of the matches in between commercials. It may sound funny but it is the truth.

There was a time when one could watch TV programmes without any commercial breaks. In those days there was no round the clock programme or so many channels or so many varieties of goods available in the market. The pleasure of watching a movie at a stretch without any break in your own home was really great. One had to pay a tax of Rs 50 per year to have a TV licence. No one had to suffer these jingles and jargon.
I vividly remember the viewers’ reactions when commercial breaks were introduced for the first time. Housewives running to the kitchen to give finishing touches to the cooking, feeding the school-going kids, and the kids themselves rushing to finish their homework, get their uniforms and books ready for the next day during this break. The novelty soon died as the commercial breaks increased with proportion to the increase in the channels and advertisements increased by leaps and bounds.
Still I liked viewing TV programmes without anybody thrusting ideas like using a certain brand of soap could makes one’s skin soft and spotless if a particular jingle is sung when having a bath. If you use another brand of soap you not only become clean but within a few days become beautiful too, so beautiful to win beauty contests.

The fruity fragrance of another brand of soap as it assails another model makes her forget where she is. She, being in a hurry to use that soap, starts peeling off her clothes one by one all the while rushing home. By the time she reaches home she is ready to jump into the shower. You believe it?

Coming to toothpastes, there are so many available nowadays. Take any brand there are different varieties. Unless you know which type you want you are at a loss when you go shopping. Add to that the ads for tooth paste really confuse you. Have you ever heard two schoolboys discussing toothpaste? Of all things, toothpaste? Which one will prevent tooth decay? Which is the best? So on and so on. A young girl with a doll is more interested in seeing her doll having good perfect teeth by using a certain type of toothpaste. Could one believe all this?

As it is, children of today are very precocious and very intelligent. They, in some cases, are more knowledgeable than their previous generation. They know about the why and how of things, how such and such gadget works. Why bring them into commercials to air their knowledge and belittle their parents to the viewer like a small boy telling his mother what commonsense is? I belong to a very old generation. I find all this a little too hard to swallow.

I find a few ads really good and interesting and educative. They give you the freedom of choice, they don’t give the public false hopes. One should know what soap or shampoo or hair oil or face cream suits him or her best and go for that.
I have just expressed a few of my thoughts I do not know how it may sound to others Everyone is entitled to have a viewpoint, These are mine, right or wrong.

IN - LAWS!

2010-01-08T08:40:00.004+05:30

It was with great interest I read my cousin’s blog, Inlaws and Outlaws . I have always thought that women themselves are their worst enemies A mother- in- law and her daughter- in-law fighting for and trying to hold onto the son’s/husband’s affections are the worst type. As my cousin has rightly said this in-law fight has been going on for ages and will go on for ever.

Even at this time and age in educated families many arranged marriages take place in which the boy and the girl are given the freedom only to nod yes to what the elders say. A few years or months hence ,the girls in-laws particularly the mother would not be able to digest the fact that the couple are happy with each other and are getting to love one another. The mother has this fear that her son‘s love for her would be lost for ever But it is ridiculous when one thinks about it in a dispassionate way. The mother should always remember that she has reached where she is now by walking down the same road. If this woman had a tough time with her mother-in-law in her time all the more reason why she should be kind and considerate and caring towards her son’s wife and treat her like her own daughter --- not as her enemy.

In some families, this theory does not work. This seems to have a reverse effect as in the case of Sethu and Janani. Sethu and myself came to Delhi as young brides at the same time, in the 1940s. Sethu and her husband started their married life staying with his parents while my husband and myself were on our own. Sethu had a very tough time with her mother-in-law. She had no freedom in anything in the house. She could not even talk with her husband in the presence of her mother-in-law. Could not even buy what she wanted, could not eat what she liked. As days passed her mother-in-law started choosing sarees for her, which according to Sethu, were not at all to her liking. She was not allowed to go out either for shopping or for walks like we did. When a son was born to Sethu, it was again her mother-in-law who decided how the baby was to be brought up or how to be fed and how to be dressed. She was not able to oppose her mother-in-law because her husband did not find anything wrong in this.

Poor Sethu. Whenever we met she used to cry on our shoulders, promising that she the way she would treat her daughter-in-law would be very different. Yes, things worked out differently for her when her son got married. Janani, a working girl, was so different from what she expected. Of course, she was very well mannered with Sethu but she drew the line for her mother-in-law, a Lakshman Rekha, which Sethu was not supposed to cross. Janani having her own ideas of how to run her house and her married life was very independent with her views. She never allowed her mother-in-law or her father-in-law to interfere with her style of running the house. She redecorated the house to her likes and had her own way of cooking also. Why she went to that extent that she chose the sarees Sethu had to wear, saying only such colours would suit her. Poor Sethu was caught in the web. Now she had to dance to her daughter-in-law’s tune and again needed our old shoulders to support her.

YES, there was a generation of women who in the beginning had to give in to the upper hand of their mothers-in-law and later on in life to dance to the tunes of the daughters-in-law if there was to be peace in the house.

In the olden days it was an unwritten law that a woman in her young days had to obey her father (see not her parent, here also the mother had no voice); later on, her husband with his favourite all-time words -- you don’t know anything; and, in her old age, her son. So when her son got married and brought home his bride, the mother-in-law found an easy target to vent her anger and frustrations; treating her like a slave, all the time finding fault with whatever she did. She had no kind word or not even a single word of praise for the poor girl however hard she tried to please her mother-in-law.

As women started getting educated, the situation began changing. Some girls, when they got married, were smart enough to make their mothers-in-law realize that it would benefit both of them if they had separate establishments. Others, taking education as a weapon, fought against everyone in her husband’s family asking questions as to the why and how of things for which She herself was not able to give the correct answers. But with her attitude she was able to make everyone in her family miserable.

The menfolk -- I mean the newly-married ones -- are also to be blamed. I remember as I am writing this a friend of ours. He, as a bachelor, was staying in one of the chummeries of Lodhi Colony, enjoying the meals cooked by either by one Raman Nair or one Krishnan Kutty without any complaint however average or unpalatable their fares were. After five-six years of this kind of life, he got married and brought his bride to Delhi. This young girl tried her best to please her man by trying to cook to his taste. Our friend started comparing her cooking to his mother’s, which he never even thought of while eating at Raman Nair’s or at Krishnan Kutty’s. This put off the young bride and all her anger turned towards her mother-in-law who was living hundreds of miles away from Delhi

In a joint family, one word of praise from the man of the house about the new daughter-in-law’s cooking is enough to upset the mother-in-law causing a rift between them. After all a mother-in-law and a daughter-in-law are also human beings. What they should remember is that a man’s feelings for his mother are very different from his love for his wife.

A woman may know how to rule the country. But that rule may not extend to their daughters- in-law. Think of Queen Elizabeth and princess Diana or nearer home take our own Indira Gandhi and Maneka Gandhi. It is the same story.

NOW AND THEN. . . .

2009-12-07T07:04:00.005+05:30

I was very much taken by surprise when we entered our compartment (AC first class) at half past eight in the evening at Kathgodam railway station for our trip back to Delhi. My four grandchildren, my son and myself were on a holiday to Almora. The grandchildren had left for Delhi earlier. We were the last to leave the camp. I was naturally tired after a four to five days stay in the resort, walking up and down to the lounge, the dining room and a few steps this way and that way. A four to five hour drive in the mountain road in a taxi and a much needed Masala dosai in the Udipi hotel close to the railway station was all that was needed for one to look forward to the welcoming bed we had reserved on the Delhi bound train.

Our compartment was a four berther. Two of them were occupied by a couple who had already retired for the night. Our beds were there ready for us to lie down and go to sleep which I did immediately. Well this is the last word in luxury one could avail of in the railways of India today. We had travelled to Kathgodam from old Delhi by the same train. This train was supposed to start at 10.30.pm but it was delayed by two hours. Walking through a densely crowded platform and waiting there for such a long time made us all immune - to note and appreciate - the ready-made bed and other facilities. While waiting for the train to arrive at the platform, it was my five year old great grand daughter who set us an example by her good behaviour.

So what is new one may ask. This is how all AC first-class passengers are treated every day every route in the Indian Railways Well, I beg to differ We (again my son and myself) had a different and difficult experience two years back when we boarded the night train from Delhi to Chennai.

We had booked our berths early enough asking for two lower berths which we got confirmed too. As we entered our coach we were surprised to see that the two lower berths given to us were occupied by two persons who just refused to listen to what my son had to say, who just remained adamant and refused to vacate the seats. The TT was called who asked these two men to vacate the seats they had wrongly occupied - unnecessary hassle, trouble and waste of our time and energy. We had to wait for some time till fresh sheets and blankets were produced by an (even more exasperated than we were) attendant for us to settle for the night.

Then, on another journey with my son, from Madras Egmore to Thanjavur, my son had to give up his lower berth to a person who had just undergone by-pass surgery. He had been discharged from hospital that very day and was travelling back home all alone. The funny side was this patient was very eager to show me his surgery scar. I thanked him saying I was not interested.

Travelling for me was very different some sixty years back when India was under the British regime. Of course there were the three classes then - first, second and third (today there is no third class). But there were no air-conditioned coaches The upper-classes even in those days were not affordable for the common man. There were no reservations. And the seating arrangements in the third class were horrible ---- just four long wooden benches not very wide , two on both sides of the compartment, two in the middle with their backs touching each other.

In 1946 I had travelled in one of those third class compartment s with my six month-old baby, from Madras (Chennai) to Delhi sitting throughout night and day for more than fifty six hours. With me was my sister with her three month- old baby. We had as our escorts my sister’s mother-in-law and two brothers-in-law. The compartment was tightly packed with all sorts of women , men, children, with their various steel trunks, hold-alls -- a must for all railway journeys in those days -- and tiffin-carriers big enough to contain food to last for three days Not to forget the suraais for water which were very prompt in tilting and spilling their contents at the least provocation.

Once a person got up from the seat to go the loo that seat was sure to be occupied by one of the standing passengers. This meant the first person would have to stand till another person got up. Well, it was a bad experience for us, our first and last of that miserable kind. In those days there were no upper berths. There used to be racks where the boxes and bags were placed.

When India came under self- rule, travelling by trains also improved gradually. By 1960-1965 there were many compartments with upper- berths, I remember the journey I took with my children back in 1962 from Madras to New Delhi by the GT Express. We were travelling first-class and we were given a compartment with two lower berths and two upper ones There was a wash-basin in between the two lower berths and an attached bathroom. We had a very comfortable journey -- very relaxed.

Air-conditioned chair-cars were also tried and tested to suit the need of increased number of passengers to Delhi and Bombay (Mumbai now). More and more people started travelling as tourists too. AC chair-cars were first introduced in the Delhi- Madras line. My parents, my eldest sister, and myself with my two younger children travelled from Madras to Delhi to attend my niece’s wedding in Delhi. It was in-mid-summer. We felt the AC coaches were really a boon. We were too quick to judge. On our return journey once we reached Agra the air-conditioner failed and with no fresh air inside the coach we all had a difficult time, particularly my father who was well beyond seventy. Thank God, the mistake was soon corrected and we reached Madras without any more mishaps.

AC chair cars were a huge success in the Bombay-Delhi line. for It was only a 24-hour journey and it was running for quite some years Once the two- tier and three- tier A.C sleepers were introduced the chair cars became redundant.

In the 1940s and 1950s there was only the Grand-Trunk Express to and fro from Madras and Delhi. In the 1940s this train used to run only three days a week. Now the number of trains on each and every line has increased to meet the demands of the ever increasing travelers. Any train you board on any route, one finds not even a single empty seat. Rich or poor people are always on the move always on the go. The waiting list is sometimes longer than the trains. The trains are very long now. Most of the platforms are not long enough for these trains

I wonder what the future holds for the Indians travelling by trains.

Talking about trains brings to mind a joke my husband told me on my first train trip with him. Even if you’ve heard it before, please bear with me and laugh.

Once the Prince of Wales was travelling by train and in his compartment were two society ladies. As the journey wore on, they did their best to outdo each other in their attempts to impress His Highness, who was not at all amused. When the train passed through a tunnel, the Prince put the back of his hand to his mouth and made a kissing sound. Then he got off at the next station, saying, “To which of you delightful ladies do I owe that unexpected pleasure!” It left two very sore ladies in the compartment.

CHILDREN OF DESTINY

2009-10-23T18:53:00.003+05:30

In today's Statesman ( October 20) I came across a news item, "Great Escape". The story is how a toddler -- not even two years old -- is safe and well even though he fell down from an open window of his third storey apartment. He landed on some concrete and rocks.He escaped with a cut in his abdomen, a bruised lung and a bump on his head. This happened in California.

It reminds me of another news item that came in one of last week's newspapers. A pregnant woman travelling by train had a miraculous escape. She visited the toilet and while there delivered her baby.The baby fell through the hole on to the tracks. The woman came from the toilet and jumped out of the running train without a second thought.

Other travellers in the compartment seeing her jumping pulled the chain and stopped the train.When the railway officials with some of the passengers walked back some distance they found the woman sitting with the baby in her arms on the side of the tracks. Amazingly both were not hurt and are doing well.

These two incidents remind me of the old saying that there is a time and place for everything and everyone. It also goes the moment a child is born it is written on his forehead (FATE) the time of his death. So may be these three above mentioned have long life. Otherwise things would have been different.

The other day Raja showed me a video clip on his laptop which pictured an incident that happened somewhere in Australia. It showed how a baby in a pram had a miraculous escape after being hit by an oncoming train in a station.

The baby's mother waiting on the platform had lost her grip on the pram which rolled on to the track. The moving train had pushed the pram away from the track where the woman found her baby safe inside pram itself. So it looks like this baby also has good fate.

But not everyone is this lucky. The famous guitarist Eric Clapton lost his three year old son in 1991 when he fell from an open window of a high rise building. Imagine a baby coming to such a tragic end in the saftey of his own home.

So it all depends on one's luck or shall I say Fate.

VIDYARAMBAM DAY, NETBOOK IN HAND

2009-10-14T20:26:00.005+05:30

My Vidyarambam Day was one day later than the original date this year. On that day after breakfast Raja went out with his usual "etho varen" and I on my part did not ask any questions.

He came back after about two hours and handed me a package telling me it was for me and for me alone.

It was a flat packet about the size of a table diary.Was I surprised when I opened the packet and took out what was inside:Yes it was a laptop/netbook, all my own.

Raja told me that now I have a laptop of my own I should not depend on others to type my mail.

So I have started typing, it is a very slow process and I am learning to type with two fingers.

Now within a period of two weeks Raja has also taught me how to use the internet: open pages, how to compose a mail and how to send it too.

I feel very good and a little proud of myself.

I feel great when I open my mail and send back replies. Me an eighty plus woman sitting at my laptop and typing this note.

I now understand the true meaning of the Malayalam proverb "Venamengil chakkai verillum kaikyum". (If you will, even a Jackfruit will sprout from the roots.) And I am here proving it to myself.

I am giving enough time to my children and others who read my blog to prepare themselves to tolerate my spelling mistakes and typing errors.

I have taken more than two hours to type and revise these few lines

Well, I am only a novice so it is ok. Please wish me success Thanks.

I always used to tell my children that it is never too late to learn anything new.

Now Raja has given me a chance to practice what I have been preaching.

THE FOUR DAY WEDDING

2009-08-11T06:55:00.010+05:30

Continued from previous post

The feast (lunch) after the muhurtham used to be a grand one with everyone fed with various kinds of vegetable dishes, sweets and pradhaman (sometimes two) till everyone was fully satiated.

Artist Maya's representation of 'nalangu'

Afternoon was the time for relaxation and play - this came in the form of nalangu, where everyone teased one another with songs, all the while the bride and the groom sitting on a 'pattu payi’ a mat woven with a special soft reed, facing each other rolling a coconut to one another. For the nalangu, the bride had to invite the groom with a song and a namaskaram to play with her. Otherwise the bridegroom’s male relations would not allow him to budge. Once they were seated on the mat, they applied sandal paste on each other’ arms and feet, combed each other’s hair, applied pottu and showed the mirror to each other to admire their handiwork. The singing session went on until everyone got tired, and then arathi was performed

For the next three afternoons also there used to be nalungu with new songs composed on the spot. I remember lines from a couple of songs - like the son-in-law brushing his teeth with coffee, and the daughter using lime and rice flour to make up her face.

In the evening usually there used to be music concerts or harikatha kalapshekam, or dance performances known as 'sadir' , by well known dancers from Kumbakonam or Thanjavur. Most well-known musicians of those days used to sing at the marriage concerts and that is how they became famous.

In the evening another homam was conducted by the newly wed couple with the help of the priest. During this homam, they were led outside by the priest and shown the star Arundati, who is said to be the ideal wife in devotion and steadfastness. And were advised to lead a happy and compatible life like the couple up there.

After this homam, known as ‘pravesam homam’ and dinner, the first day of the wedding came to an end. For the next three days the morning homam called ‘auhvasanam,’ ‘nalungu’ and the evening homam were conducted regularly.

On the fourth evening, another feast was prepared for the bridegroom’s people with individual oil lamps placed in front of each place. During this meal also there was much rejoicing and teasing, sometimes to the extent of wasting food. But everyone used to be happy and satisfied. After this dinner the newly wedded couple were taken around the locality in a procession by foot, accompanied by the nagaswaram
This was called ‘patina pravesam’

While walking through the main streets of the neighbourhood, relatives welcomed them with arathi and offered them banana pieces soaked in milk. Gradually changes came here also. The couple was carried in open flower-decked palanquins, instead of walking. My eldest sister and her husband, when they got married in 1926 , were the first and only couple in our family to have the palanquin ride. My mother told me that my sister being so petite and lovely (she was 12 then) was herself like a palanquin doll. The palanquin used to have extremely pretty celluloid dolls at each corner.

When my elder sister Sarada got married in 1937, the ‘patina pravesam’ was conducted in a well-decorated open motor car. The other day when I asked her if she remembered the ‘pattina pravesam’ at her wedding, she told me that all she remembered was nodding off every five minutes or so , and her husband waking her up requesting her not to sleep.

My sister Sarada with her husband in the 1950s

My sister-in-law Vijayam, sister Rama, me and
my eldest sister Krishnambal in the 1950s

My third sister Rama remembers that her ‘pattina pravesam’ in the car was interrupted by rain and had to be given up. This practice of ‘pattina pravesam’ was given up before my wedding in 1945, which was incidentally a one-day wedding. Four day weddings were out by then.

On the fifth morning the last homam was conducted by the couple - this was the ‘sesha’ homam. After this homam, every single uncle and aunt was treated to return gifts, that is they would be given the amount they had presented to the bride and groom, plus one panam, that is one-seventh of a rupee.

Finally came the aseervadams and namaskaram, followed by arathi. After a simple meal, unlike the previous five days, the bridegroom’s party readied themselves for the return journey. They were supplied with fruits along with food to last them for the next two days, known as ‘kattu chatham’, prepared in such a manner that it would remain fresh for the period of the journey. Along with this, other provisions like rice, vegetables, coffee powder were also packed for the journey.

The bride was left behind, she would join her husband after a year or two, when she attained maturity. Another function called ‘griha pravesam’, would be held at the bridegroom’s place for this.

The bride, a mere child of eight or nine, went back to her wooden doll and playthings till then.

Concuded.

THE MAIN CEREMONIES

2009-07-24T06:48:00.013+05:30

Continued from previous post .. . . .
The bride waiting at the pandal welcomes the bridegroom with a garland, and he in his turn, garlands the bride.

Exchanging garlands at daughter Raji's
brother-in-law Chandran's wedding, 1976

In those days, since both the bride and the groom were children, the maternal uncles came forward to lift them on their shoulders. Sitting on the shoulders, the bride and the groom exchanged garland three times. This way everybody present could see them well and proper exchanging garlands. The uncles had more fun ducking and withdrawing to make it difficult for them to garland each other.

After getting down from the uncle’s shoulders, they were asked to hold hands and led to a flower decorated oonjal (swing). Here the priest got a chance to show off his musical prowess by singing the first oonjal song, and making way for the ladies to continue the singing.

Oonjal at Viji's wedding,1974

After each song, the nadaswaram player played the song faithfully on his instrument. This usually used to go on for half an hour or so. After this the couple was fed with banana pieces soaked in milk by the elderly Sumangali women. This was followed by the 'pachapdi sutthal' to ward off all evil eyes. The rice balls used for this are made with cooked rice mixed with turmeric powder and lime, giving it a red colour.

The most important part of the wedding is the ‘kanniga danam’ – giving away the bride. The bride’s father sat on a small bale of hay, with his daughter on his lap. She held betel leaves, a coconut and betel nuts in her cupped palms. The priests from both sides recited the lineage of the bride and the groom for three generations – the great grandfather, grandfather and father, along with the gothram thrice. This is a very touching moment, with the nadaswaram falling silent as well as the people. This was the moment when the bride entered the bridegroom’s gothram. The bride was then given away by her parents to the groom to be under his care, to the chanting of mantras.

Next came the presenting of the 'koorai pudavai', the traditional nine yard saree, the main wedding saree to the bride by the groom.

Giving the koorai pudavai at
Raji's brother-in-law Sivasu's wedding, 1972

While she went in to change into her new saree with the help of the groom's sister and other ladies, the bridegroom was seated on the same bale of hay (today the chair has taken its place), and the bride’s father washed his feet with the water being poured by her mother.

Babuji and I wash the groom's feet
at daughter Gowri's wedding, 1986

This was how the guest was received traditionally into the house by the host. The bride entered wearing the new saree with her sister-in-law, looking beautiful and looking forward to a happy life She was seated again on her father’s lap, who now sat on the bale of hay. While the priests chanted mantrams, the bridegroom placed a small yoke on her head, symbolizing that they would have to work together for the success of the marriage. And after this the bridegroom tied the mangalasutra, or thirumangalyam threaded on yellow thread, round her neck. The first two knots were tied by him and the third knot by his sister.

The nadaswaram then went into what is called 'getti melam', playing rapid notes at a high pitch, and the thavil playing loudly to a vigorous beat, while flowers were showered onto the new couple. Sugar and candy sugar were distributed to everyone to celebrate. Members of the bridegroom’s family were given thamboolam with coconut.

Now the bridegroom held the bride’s right hand with his right hand, took the marriage vows, praying to Agni, God of fire, and other gods to bless them with long life and prosperity.

Sapthapathi at daughter Viji's wedding, 1974

The bridegroom now held the right big toe of the bride and thus walked seven steps all the while chanting the mantram which said she had become his friend and companion, and would remain together for life. This is known as the 'sapthapathi', the actual point at which they are truly wedded.

Offering pori at daughter Raji's wedding , 1967

Next, the couple sat in front of the holy fire, while the priest chanted mantras which the groom repeated. The bride’s brother helped him to offer ‘pori’ (puffed rice) to the homam, signifying that the brother would take care of the bride, if the need arose.

‘Odhi idal’, is an important occasion giving gifts to the wedding couple by the various aunts and uncles on both sides. The priests invoking the blessings of the gods, handed over the gifts to the bride or the groom, naming the giver and the amount, for usually the gifts were in cash. Coins of Rupee one and two denominations were gifted, because they were minted in pure silver. Nobody wanted their names to be left out. Even today this system is carried out in families who follow tradition completely.

After that it was time for ‘aseervadam’, blessings, with the chanting of the mantrams, all elders showered yellow rice on the couple, praying for their long life together.

Two ladies now took arathi to signify that the muhurtham was over. The bride and groom went around performing namaskaram (obeisance seeking blessings) to all senior relatives individually, one by one, unlike today , when it is usual a sabha namaskaram, a single one for all.

More to come. . .

THE DAY OF THE WEDDING

2009-07-10T06:43:00.012+05:30

Continued from previous post

The wedding day started with the nadaswaram music, waking up everyone, not only the wedding families, but everyone in the whole locality.

The wedding day, an important day in everyone’s life, meant for my mother, an eight year old girl, getting up very early in the morning, long before dawn. She was woken up and taken to the river, along with her friends, all eight or nine year old ones for a ceremonial bath. A few elderly women relatives who accompanied the young girls carried with them all that was needed to dress up the bride at the river bank itself. She was given a new chittadai ( a long piece of cloth like a short sari to wrap round the body with one end over the shoulder), decked with ornaments, had her hair plaited and decorated with gold decoration and fresh flowers. The bride, along with her friends also dressed in their finery, were taken to the temple.

After offering prayers, they walked back home led by the nadaswaram players. On the way back she was made to stop in front of every house, where she was welcomed with aarathi by the elderly housewives and given thamboolam. On reaching home, they were treated to a breakfast of pongal, (preparation of rice and pasi paruppu (Moong dal) tempered with salt, pepper, curry leaves and ginger. This was known as 'Thozhi Pongal'.

I remember enjoying this at my sister Sarada’s wedding. We were then living in Trivandrum city, away from the river. So we just bathed at home, went to the nearby temple and offered prayers, and walked back home. On the way we were stopped at a few houses, and my sister was welcomed with aarathi and thamboolam. Slowly this ritual became obsolete.

Vritham at daughter Raji's wedding (1967)

The bridegroom on his part had to perform the vritham on the wedding morning – the process of changing from a bachelor to a householder (grihasthan). In those days the bridegroom’s party included their own family priest. This priest would conduct the vritham, which was performed in the same house where the bridegroom’s party was staying.

'Kaappu kattal' for Jaya at the wedding
of Raji's brother-in-law (1976)

At the same time the ‘kappu kattal’ ceremony for the bride was done at the pandal, by her parents. After doing a pooja to Lord Vigneswara and other gods, praying for the long life of the bride and the groom, the father, helped by the mother, ties the ‘kaappu’, a yellow sacred thread blessed by the pooja, round the right wrist of the bride.

'Paligai' ritual at grandson Sriram's wedding (2002)

At both these functions aritual called the ‘paligai thelikarathu’ was also performed. Soaked whole grains – nava danyam – were placed in small palm sized earthen pots. During the vritham and the kaappu kattal, one of the rites was five sumangalis (from both set of families) were asked to drops of water with milk and honey added using the darba grass in all the five pots. This rite was done on all four days of the wedding. On the fifth day, sprouts shot up from the grains – these were taken in procession by the same five ladies to the river and allowed to float away. Later on in cities, where there are no rivers close by, the sprouts were thrown into the wells.

'Kasi Yathirai' at son Bala's wedding (1977)

The vratham over, and the boy ready for grihasthrasmam, waited to get married. Seeing no chance of an early marriage, he decided to become a sanyasi and set forth on a journey by foot to Kasi, armed with an umbrella, a palm leaf fan, a walking stick and a copy of the Upanishads( all supplied by the bride’s parents). A pair of footwear was added to this later. The bride’s father stopped him on the way and promised him his daughter in marriage. The kasi yathirai was abandoned, and old relatives of the bridegroom took possession of the fan, umbrella and walking stick. He was brought back to the pandal where the bride was waiting.

This ceremony is still conducted at weddings.

More to come. .

SOME FUN INCIDENTS THAT HAPPENED AT WEDDINGS

2009-07-02T07:16:00.007+05:30

Continued from last post

At the recent wedding of my grand nephew Ramesh
- the couple in the decorated car

Writing about Mappillai Azhaippu and Nichiya thartham reminds me of two or three incidents that happened at our family weddings.

My sister Sarada got married in 1936. I was just nine years old, but I still remember the commotion raised by one incident on the day of the nichiyathartham. Though I did not understand the reason at that time, later on I got to know the details.

Sarada and me in the early 1950s in Delhi

A young child, not even two years old, had gone missing. His father was my mother’s cousin. I still remember the baby, such a beautiful healthy boy. Whenever we visited them or they came over, we used to play with the baby never letting him down from our arms. The baby could not be found anywhere and the whole locality joined with the police to look for the boy. But all in vain. There were whispered rumours that an old lady with a baby was found in Palayam area. Another rumour mentioned that there was a baby crying in a lonely area – all false and misleading.

Despite this, the wedding went on as planned, while the search was going on. In the evening during the Mapillai azhaippu procession, a woman was spotted with a baby in her lap at a shop’s doorway. Upon close observation, it became evident that the baby was the missing child. The woman refused to part with the baby, saying that since the baby’s ears were not pierced she was trying to pierce them. And what she was using was a dressmaker’s pin. It took a lot of cajoling and pressure from my brother and his friends to remove the baby safely from her. The parents’ relief knew no bounds, and all were thankful to God that no harm had come to the baby.

The woman who took the baby turned out to be another cousin of my mother and the baby’s father. She was generally known as Prandhu (Mad) Ponnamma. She used to undergo bouts of madness during certain days, a week or ten days at a time (possibly to do with the phases of the moon).Otherwise she was a perfectly normal woman, with a family of her own. She had also come to the wedding, and had probably in a moment of madness taken the baby away.

Whenever someone did or said something silly, the general teasing in our family was that surely there was some relationship to Prandhu Ponnamma.

In 1941 when Babuji’s father’s cousin got married, Babuji and other youngsters in the family decided to tease the bride and have some fun, for they felt the bride was too hoity toity. During the mappillai azhaippu procession, the bride was also in the car along with the bridegroom – a custom followed in many families. The bride was getting annoyed for she found a young woman sitting in the front seat, talking non-stop to the bridegroom, sometimes even getting familiar like touching his hand or slapping his wrist, which added to her irritation. (In those days, I must mention, boys and girls did not mix freely and kept their distance from one another). In a flash of temper, she had the car stopped, got down and started walking back. The bridegroom and the young girl also got down from the car, laughing and enjoying the bride’s show of temper, followed her and caught up with her. They tried to pacify her - but it took a while, and a lot of patience, for them to make the bride understand that the young girl was one of his male cousins, dressed as a girl in jest, just to tease her. After that she got back into the car with the groom, and the procession started again. And that cousin was none other than Babuji.

Me,(left) Babuji (centre) and Viswam (right, partially seen)
behind the couple at Viswanthan's wedding.

With this incident in mind, I played a similar trick when Babuji’s brother Viswanathan got married in 1952. Babuji’s parents, especially Ammaji , was very thrilled at the idea, and gave me her full support. So on the eve of the wedding I put my plan into action. One of Babuji’s cousins Viswam , a young twelve or thirteen year old boy, was very handsome and slim. I took him into my confidence and told him about my plan. He readily agreed and promised me that he would do his best. With the help of a few women and a lot of pins, hair pins, false hair pieces and falsies, and make up, there emerged a beautiful willowy girl, dressed in a red printed georgette sari, with a matching blouse. His natural shyness added to the charm. Our idea was to introduce ‘Vishi’ to the bride and her people during the nichyathartham ceremony.

Accordingly, ‘Vishi’ entered the pandal during the ceremony and went straight to the groom and sat down next to him. Everyone was taken by her beauty and her audacity. Women started whispering, and Ammaji joined in. She, put the whole blame on me for her son getting friendly with such girls, for Viswanathan was then staying with us in New Delhi, where he was working. We made everyone believe that ‘Vishi’ who was introduced as an employee of AIR, had become friendly with Viswanathan during lunch hours, for their offices were close by. The bride’s face was a study of suppressed anger. After a while Viswam got bored with the game, and he went straight to the bride’s father and took leave of him with folded hands, addressing him as ‘Mama’. The ‘Mama’ also, fully taken in, requested her to stay for dinner and take the thamboolam.

Once we were back from the pandal, we all had a good laugh, and congratulated Viswam on his performance.

Even after so many years, when I started writing this, I cannot forget the appreciation and admiration I got from everyone, including my mother and Moorthy who also attended the wedding.

More in my next. . .

THE BRIDEGROOM ARRIVES....

2009-06-19T10:33:00.012+05:30

Continued from previous post

An important part of the wedding is the Mapillai azhaippu – introducing the mappillai or the bridegroom to the local residents and the bride’s relations.

Once the bridegroom’s party was well-fed and rested after their arrival, they were taken to the local temple in the evening to get God’s blessings. A pooja would be performed by the priest.

Inside the temple, the bride’s brother welcomed him with a garland and applied sandal paste on his arms and presented him with a new set of veshti. From the temple the bridegroom and the entourage were taken to the wedding pandal in a slow procession with the accompaniment of nadaswaram and gaslights. In the early days it was a procession on foot, with the bridegroom garlanded. But even here changes came over gradually, and the bridegroom was seated in an open coach drawn by slow trotting horses.

The decorated car at the wedding of my son-in-law's sister in the early 60s

When motorcars came on the scene, instead of the carriage, an open car, well decorated with flowers and festoons was used for this. And along with this change, the bridegroom’s veshti changed to western clothes – a suit with shoes to add. As the English culture seeped into our custom, this kind of procession was give up by many modern minded families. And nowadays it is practically obsolete, except in a few cases.

At my son Bala's wedding in the 70s

When the bridegroom’s procession reached the wedding pandal, he and his relatives were welcomed ceremoniously with aarathi and thamboolam by the bride’s parents, and conducted to the wedding dais.

Here the purohits were waiting with everything ready for the next ceremony, the formal engagement. The bridegroom was garlanded afresh by the bride’s brother.

I have no memory of my mother telling me if the child bride was seated next to the bridegroom. I have seen in one or two weddings of the 1960s, the bride was excluded from this engagement ceremony. She never came to the pandal. But later on as customs changed, the bride was brought to the pandal, well decked. She was received by the bridegroom’s sister with a garland and kumkumam. Later on the practice of gifting jewellery to the bride became a part of this ceremony.

Among the chanting of the sacred mantrams and the strains of the nadaswaram, thamboolam was exchanged by the father s of the couple in the presence of elders. This exchange was considered the formal engagement.

After this the bride and groom had to perform obeisance (namaskarams) to all senior members of both families, taking care not to leave out anyone. Otherwise this omission would be held against them for life, which was not uncommon in those days.

Once the nichiyathartham was over the bridegroom’s people were led into the house for dinner. Here banana leaves were spread on the floor, the food being served on them. And people would be seated on durries or mats to partake of the feast. This meal being the first of the actual wedding ceremonies, was a grand one with pal payasam boli and vadai, as well as many varieties of vegetables, chips and pickles.

After the meal the men and women would sit on different sides of the pandal and offered betel leaves and nuts to chew on. They were escorted back to the house arranged for them and left there for the night.

In those days the wedding ceremonies lasted five days. People generally had a lot of time on their hands, and the wedding season started only after the harvest. The only entertainment they had was a temple festival or a harikatha kalakshepham. So ceremonies like weddings and upanayanams were conducted for five days.
A five day wedding gave enough time for the bridegroom’s party to get over the tiredness of the onward trip, and ready them for their return trip.

On each day of the wedding all the meals had to be served with different menus with a different pradhaman (essentially a Kerala sweet dish prepared with jaggery and coconut milk) each time. Unlike today, pradhamans were served until everyone was fully satiated.

A certain decorum would be observed by the bride’s family to their sammandhis on all these five days. Early morning coffee, breakfast (idly, vadai and a sweet made with jaggery), and evening tiffin (sojji and bajji) were to be sent to the bridegroom’s place on time and in plenty.

For lunch and dinner, each time men and women from the bride’s family would go over to where the bridegrooms’ family was staying, taking thamboolam and accompanied by nagaswaram, and request each and everyone , without leaving anyone out, to come and partake of the meal. On the day of the muhurtham also, along with the thamboolam a sweet preparation made with milk, and paruppu thengai were included to invite the bridegroom’s people. The paruppu thengai is a sweet prepared with jaggery,roasted chickpeas and coconut bits, and shaped like a cone, a symbol of prosperity and progeny.

A word about the nadaswaram. Nadaswaram was and is an essential part of the wedding ceremony. The then famous Ambalappuzha Brothers were the artistes who played the nadaswaram at my sister’s and my weddings. During the mappilai azhaippu, nicihyathartham on the day of the wedding, would be non-stop music, and the scale wedding was judged by the name of the nadaswaram player.

In the 1980s when my youngest daughter got married in Delhi, the event manager had arranged for the nadaswaram players to come from the south. It was something novel in New Delhi and was appreciated by one and all. Many of our friends and acquaintances congratulated us on the grand wedding.

At the wedding reception of Gowri and Mohan (left), Babuji shares a joke with a guest.

More to come......

WEDDINGS - Part 3: PREPARING TO WELCOME THE BRIDEGROOM

2009-06-05T10:12:00.009+05:30

(Continued from previous post)
A neighbour’s house was made ready for the bridegroom’s party to stay for the duration of the wedding. The occupants of this house would stay with other neighbours for this period. The house, well swept and mopped was decorated with festoons of mango leaves at the entrance door and big beautiful kolams were drawn on the well swept front yard and all the rooms.

Women draw 'kolams' at a Mylapore competition

The inside kolams were drawn with well ground rice paste, so that they would last for a few days. In the main hall a big bell metal oil lamp would be lit and remained burning. In front of this lamp were place a plateful of betel leaves, nuts, whole turmeric, bananas and two coconuts.

On one side of this were placed in bell metal dishes the various oil – gingelly, coconut – turmeric, soapnut powder, and umikkeri (burnt rice husk for brushing teeth) - all ready for the morning ablutions. On another side, vibuthi, the sacred ash and kukumam for the ladies and sandal paste were also placed. Those days soaps and toothpaste were unheard of.

For sleeping at night plenty of mats (made of dried grass) and jamakkalams, thick sheets in bright patterns,(see picture) were readied. The weather being most accommodating, nothing more was required for a good night’s sleep. (For Viji’s wedding in 1974, we had arranged a vacant flat in West Kidwai Nagar, where we lived, with the permission of the local authorities for the bridegroom’s people to stay.)

A nadaswaram troupe at a temple procession

Once the bridegroom’s party arrived at the street corner, they were welcomed by the bride’s people warmly to the accompaniment of the auspicious notes of the nadaswaram and escorted to the house arranged for them. After serving them lunch or tiffin, depending on the time of their arrival, they were requested to rest and refresh themselves for the evening function – mappilai azhaippu and nitchiya thartham.

Well, the bridegroom’s party needed all the rest they could avail of, for they were on the road for three four or five days, depending on the place they were coming from. Then mode of travel in those days was the bullock cart. The maximum distance on could travel in a day was seven, eight or ten miles, depending upon the mood of the bullock. The cartcade consisted of six to seven cars according to the number of people travelling. One cart was set apart for the stuff needed to prepare food on the way, for those were hotel less days – including firewood, utensils, groceries and vegetables, as also fodder for the bullocks. Every evening when the carts reached a riverside, or an open space with a well, the journey was stopped for the day. Stretching their cramped bodies and taking baths, they partook of the packed food prepared in the morning before they took the road. In the mornings, the women getting up early, and after a bath , would cook enough for both meals. So by the time they reached the bride’s place, everyone was pleasantly tired, looking forward to the five days of wedding rites and feasts.

Here I would like to share how we travelled from Trivandrum to Allepey for my brother’s wedding in 1937. He was just 22 and my Manni 15. The bridegroom’s party included a number of my brother’s friends and not only our own uncles and aunts on both our parents’ side, but also uncles and aunts of my parents. The wedding of the eldest son in the family definitely was not to be missed by anyone. We left our home early in the morning by 5 am in a hired bus, and reached Quilon around 9.30. From Quilon we travelled by boat to Alleppey, reaching there by dusk. We had a break for lunch at a small island called Ponmudi. The lunch was arranged by our tuition master Anantharama Iyer.

The distance from Trivandrum to Allepey is about 160 kilometers which is covered today by road in three or four hours. The mappila azhaippu procession started from the boat jetty itself. My brother was seated in a horse drawn open coach, surrounded by children on all sides, and taken as a procession to the wedding place. The others either walked, or came by car.

My brother and sister-in-law in the 1960s

The mappillai azhaippu is a function which takes place on the evening before the wedding.

To be continued

Nadaswaram photo courtesy: Internet

WEDDINGS - Part Two - GETTING READY

2009-05-16T09:43:00.014+05:30

Continued from previous post

The wedding date having been decided, all near and dear ones were informed by word of mouth, or by a short letter. A week before the wedding a small function ‘kaal nattal’ would be held. A pooja would be performed by the bride’s father, under the guidance of the family priest, invoking the gods’ blessings.

After the pooja the first pole of the pandal (marquee) was fixed in the ground - this was the 'kaal nattal'. The pandal, a bamboo structure with a thatched roof would be put up on the street in front of the bride’s house and adjoining houses. The streets of the Brahmin settlements (agraharam) contained houses like the row houses of today one touching the other. The inside of the pandal was decorated with all sorts of festoons, shining globules of different sizes, and paper garlands of various colours. At the entrance of the pandal two full grown banana plants heavy with fully developed fruits, were fixed, as a sign of auspiciousness. A special manamedai, a place for the bridal couple to sit and perform the wedding rites, conducted by the family priest, was also made ready, decorated with kolams. On this day, the bride would also have the 'kappu kattal' ceremony - a sacred yellow thread was tied round on her right wrist after invoking the blessings of all the gods.

A modern agraharam : My nephew Ramakrishnan
took this picture of the heritage village Kalpathi.

Once the 'kaal naattal' was done, the preparation for the wedding also started. Relations came one by one. They along with the neighbours took charge of the preparations, without being told or asked. Someone getting groceries and vegetables from the market, another arranging for fresh milk to be delivered twice daily for the duration of the wedding period, another arranging for the curds to be delivered every evening in mud pots. Banana fruits, a must for every meal of the wedding feasts were bought in bunches and hung from the ceiling. And not to forget banana leaves, bunches and bunches of them.

This takes me to my own wedding and my two Chithappas when they came to attend it. After teasing me for some time and saluting my parents , they went for the heavy stack of banana leaves, cutting them to the needed sizes for the various meals of breakfast, lunch, and tiffin, arranging them according to size and rolling them up in gunny bags, so that they remained fresh for a few days.

Another item to be readied was the thamboolam – plates of betel leaves, betel nuts made into edible kalipaakku, chunambu for the women folk For the men it was betel leaves, raw, whole betel nuts (adakkai) chunnambu and tobacco. These were offered to the bridegroom’s people with respectful requests to partake of them. In today’s world, these are unimportant details, but in weddings of those days, any shortcoming in this was enough to upset an elderly aunt or a bachelor uncle to create a misunderstanding and unpleasantness during the wedding. In 1960, not so ancient, I have myself witnessed two elderly uncles of the bridegroom, getting angry and creating a scene because the bride’s people had started having lunch before they had theirs.

There were other preparations to be done. The womenfolk, relatives as well as neighbours, took charge of the kitchen – cooking, grinding, pounding and making sweets and savouries for ‘seeru’ - that is the eatables given to the sammandhis (bridegroom’s family) to take home for themselves and to be distributed, if they wished. The women folk were adept a making murukku, each one 10 to 12 inches in diameter. Appam , adhirasam and monaharam , the sweets were made with jaggery. Of course a professional cook was appointed to cook for the actual wedding days. Big ‘vaarppu, ‘uruli’, big enough to cook for more than 200 people were borrowed from temples. Every household had its own 'uruli', 'varppu', bell metal pots and pans , large enough to cook for fifty. These items were a must to be given to the bride by her parents at the time of marriage. I was also given such big vessels by my parents.

In today’s weddings, maximum money is spent on silk sarees and gold jewellery. A hundred years ago, it was not so. For the bride the nine yards koorai pudavai was the only item generally, and a couple more nine yard sarees. And for the bridegroom a couple of set of cotton dhothi and angavastharam (small dhoti for the upper body), then known as ‘patharu’, as well as a silk set.

The cost of the ornaments was borne by both sets of parents. These were usually an addigai,(choker necklace) a double stranded gold chain, two pairs of bangles, and a pair of earrings.* The most important of these was the thirumangalyam, which was strung on a manjal saradu – thick strand of cotton fibres, dipped in turmeric. In those days there were no jewellery shops. The goldsmith was asked to come home at an auspicious day and time and gold was handed over to him to make the thirumangalyam and other ornaments.

Our own goldsmith Anantham would be sent for whenever required. He was very honest and trustworthy and good in his work. When my mother asked him once for a silver key ring for herself, he did not take any money for it. Also when my mother got a silver toothpick for my father, he refused to take any money An interesting object in silver he made for my mother .was a pair of silver plavila -jackfruit tree leaves shaped into a spoon pinned by a small stick. This was for us to take kanji (gruel) with when we children used to be ill.

Nowadays the mandapams and caterers take care of all these arrangements. In the beginning when the mandapams were a novelty, all the arrangements, even the caterer had to be fixed by the people concerned. In 1967 when my eldest daughter Raji got married in a kalyana mandapam in Madras, Babuji’s uncle and aunt were there to make all the arrangements. In 1977 our son Bala’s wedding also took place in Madras in a kalyana mandapam. We had an easy time for we were the bridegroom’s party!

Our younger daughter Viji and Gowri got married in Delhi in 1974 and 1986. Though there were one or two kalyana mandapams in Delhi at that time, we had the wedding conducted near our own home under a shamiana put up in a vacant plot of garden.

Back to the old days. The bride’s family would make all the above arrangements and wait for the bridegroom’s party to arrive.

*Diamond earrings came into vogue only in the 1930s. They were not brought ready made. Stones were ordered from dealers and tested and certified by experts. Whenever diamonds were brought at home, my father would have them sent to Professor Sivaramakrishna Iyer, an expert in diamonds, for approval. Anantham, the thattan, would come, and was shown the stones and asked to make the gold setting. Within a week he would be home, with the required gold setting, which looked nothing like gold or an earring setting. The diamonds would be handed over to him one by one for settings by my grandmother, who would watch over him like a hawk, till the 14 stones were set. And as if by magic, after removing the setting from the wax base, and cleaning and polishing, the shining and shimmering thodu were ready.

And the cost? Just Rs. 500/. But it is wrong to say Rs. 500, because Rs. 500 was a very big amount those days.
More to come

Photo of Murukku: courtesy http://www.flickr.com/photos/godakshin/
Photo of a meal on a banana leaf: courtesy http://www.myrelish.com/

WEDDINGS - A Hundred Years Ago

2009-05-10T10:09:00.011+05:30

These days conducting a wedding is very easy, though not very simple, provided the father of the bride has lots and lots of money to spend. Kalyana Mandapams (wedding halls) have appeared all over the place, whether it is a village, or a town or a city. All of them are also heavily booked during the wedding seasons. One used to say jokingly that one has to book the mandapam first and then fix the marriage date. The kalyana mandapam takes care of everything needed for the wedding, from start to finish. The bride’s people are also treated like guests.

Things were different a 100 years back. The first step in deciding the marriage is the exchange and matching of horoscopes. This system is also followed even today when it is an arranged marriage. One can get a horoscope from marriage brokers, or advertise in any of the newspapers. It was not so in those days. The girl’s father had to approach the boy’s father with his daughter’s horoscope and request the boy’s horoscope. After hearing from the girls’ side that the horoscopes matched, the boy’s people would approach their astrologer. The horoscopes were a means of knowing each other’s family tree and gothram. It was considered wrong for a boy and girl of the same gothram to get married. According to my limited knowledge, the matching of the horoscopes was to see that each had a different period of good and bad dasas – so that one could shelter the other one in difficult dasas.

In my mother’s case she got married when she was eight in 1902. It was my paternal grandfather, an advocate who approached my mother’s father, a schoolmaster, for my mother’s horoscope. He was much impressed by my mother’s family, their general behaviour and my mother’s own conduct, for both sets of grandparents lived in the same street. My mother never forgot this unusual act of my Paatta. She always used to say that my parents as well as all their children are well settled in life due to Paatta’s blessings. We the grandchildren never knew our Patta. He died some six years after our parents got married, and just before my parents started their married life.

My third sister and her husband - this photograph
was taken in a studio in Trichy in 1940, a year after her wedding.

Once the horoscopes were matched, and both sides happy, the next step was to fix a wedding date. There were no questions asked about dowry, no cash exchanged hands. The ornaments for the bride including the thirumangalyam, or the thali (mangalasutra), were taken care of by both sets of parents. There was no boy-meet-girl also. Everything was decided by the parents. But things progressed a little bit as time went by. In 1927, when my eldest sister got married, it was her mother-in-law with her sister who came to see the girl. My sister was barely twelve years old at that time. More changes happened when my two other sisters got married in the late 1930s. They had the chance to see their life partners before getting married – they even had a chance to say ‘Yes’ or ‘No’, though anyone hardly used that option, because the parents’ decision was final.

My three sisters in front of our house, Lakshmi Nivas, Trivandrum, in the 1950s

When Babuji and I got married in 1945, we saw each other only after the wedding date was fixed.
My father-in-law and his elder brother came to see me. My husband who was working in Delhi only had a short leave to attend his own wedding.

More to come...

EZHUMALAI WAS GOVINDAN THEN

2009-04-15T09:33:00.010+05:30

Today I am very much reminded of Govindan. Govindan was the one who came to Lakshmi Nivas once a month to bring down the coconuts from the tall palms.

This morning at Raji’s place, instead of Govindan, Ezhumalai(in picture) was the one who climbed up the two coconut palms to bring the coconuts down. And that too, after being called on his cell phone more than once. This Ezhumalai charged Rs. 60 per tree – that means Rs. 120 just to climb up the two trees, and cut down the coconuts.

The Govindan I am talking about charged only one anna, or 6 paise per tree in the 1940s. (Sixteen annas made up a rupee). There were about 20 palms in the compound of Lakshmi Nivas. Govindan would come once a month about 8 am, and wait outside till my mother was free to talk to him. If any of us children saw him, we would shout out to my mother that the ‘thengai parakkaravan’ (coconut plucker) had come. Hearing us once, he said, “Kochammai,(Little Miss) I have a name, and it is Govindan, and Amma knows me.” After that, I would always refer to him by name.

Govindan was a thin, wiry fellow, with alert eyes and a ready subservient smile. One should have seen him, clambering up the coconut tree, with the help of his two hands and his feet tucked in a tight ring made of coconut fibre, faster than a monkey.

Climbing up 20 trees, and bringing down the 500 to 600 coconuts, cleaning the top of every single tree, weeding and cleaning the base of every tree, and sorting out the dried, cut foliage was his job. From 8 in the morning he would be really busy for four or five hours. The maximum money he earned was only Rs. One and a half, and two coconuts. My mother would also give him a large tumbler of sambharam ( salted buttermilk with curry leaves) and a spoonful of pickles for which he used to be very grateful. Compare that Rs. One and a half with the Rs. 60 per tree of today.

In a few years’ time Govindan’s son was year junior to my nephew in the Engineering College, Trivandrum. So Govindan was the last of his ilk.

Our family tailor Hariharan was a regular visitor to our place to take clothes to be stitched, starting from my father’s trousers and shorts, to pillowcases. His son did not continue his father’s profession. He was my nephew’s classmate in the Engineering College. Our laundry man Ponnan’s son also studied in the same college.

So one sees that by 1960, the trend in lifestyle was changing. In fact, today there is a shortage of coconut climbers, even in Kerala. I remember having read that in Kerala they have opened an institute to teach how to climb coconut tree, and to how to take care of them.

I remember very well my mother’s ‘Jeeves’ of those days. He was there to see all sorts of odd jobs outside the house – like going to the market, taking care of the cows’ feed, taking care of my father’s clothes and so on. His name was Ramakrishna Pillai. My mother used to call him by his full name at least 10 times a day. But she never used to utter my father’s name – Ramakrishna Iyer. We found it funny and we used to tease her a lot about it.

This Jeeves was paid only Rs. 5 per month, and daily lunch. Our maid Kunjhi, used to come every morning at 5.30 or 6. She would be busy till noon. cleaning the compound on all sides of the house, cleaning the rooms inside the house, doing the dishes, and washing the clothes. Then she would come again in the evening to sweep the house and clean the vessels. She was paid only Rs. 5 per month and was give coffee twice and the left over food every day. Today Raji’s maid (see picture) earns nearly Rs. 5,000, working in more than two houses and cleaning a couple of shops. And does not do as much as Kunji used to in any of the house.

A single rupee had more value in those days. Even Rs. 100 of today, does not have that much value. Times and people have changed, and will go on changing.

'ENGLISH' VEGETABLES

2009-03-13T11:40:00.005+05:30

There was a time when vegetables like tomatoes, cauliflowers and cabbage had no place in an orthodox Brahmin kitchen. They were known as ‘English’ vegetables, because they were brought to India by the ruling Englishmen. Today these are household names. There is no rasam made in any kitchen, including the Brahmin kitchen, without tomatoes. Not only for rasam, tomatoes are used for raita (a kind of salad based in yogurt), sambar, and even made into pickles. Green tomato pachadi is a delicacy.

These thoughts flooded my mind as I was cutting tomatoes for a salad at Raji’s place. One of those was about the day in 1942 when my father said that he would teach me how to make cutlets. I was just 15 years old, and unlike today’s children I did not know what a cutlet meant. Anyway I was really happy that my father had taken time from his various activities to teach me to prepare cutlets. He gave me a list of vegetables to be got ready – potatoes, peas, tomatoes, green chillies and ginger. Potatoes and peas were okay with my mother, but she did not allow me to bring the tomatoes into the kitchen, for tomatoes were taboo. I was provided a charcoal portable oven. Following my father’s instructions I prepared the cutlets using sooji (semolina) instead of bread crumbs, and they turned out quite well. My father had tasted the cutlet at a Saturday club dinner, and he wanted his family also to enjoy it. So he got the recipe and helped me to make it.

The tomatoes were used to make sauce to go with the cutlets. Blanch and skin the tomatoes, mash them roughly, add finely cut ginger and green chillies, a dab of sugar and salt, boil for five minutes and the sauce is ready. Later on in life, maybe I remembered this subconsciously and used to make the sauce for my children, adding not just a dab of sugar, but a spoonful, and lots of raisins. How they used to enjoy it!

The Saturday Evening Club was formed by the elite of Trivandrum Society (men only!). Every month on one Saturday, one member would host a grand dinner for the others. There were about 20 members. I vividly remember how the dinner was prepared at our place. First a chef was chosen to cook the menu given by my father. The ‘English’ vegetables played an important part in this dinner. These vegetables were bought from Spencers’s or Koder’s two prominent ‘in’ stores of Trivandrum. My first and only shopping expediton before marriage was going to Koder’s to buy a wedding present for one of my classmates. The food was prepared, not in the kitchen, but in the spacious back verandah, using three sets of bricks to make the stove, and firewood as fuel. A typical menu would be tomato kichadi (raitha), pachadi, aviyal, cauliflower vegetable, cabbage with coconut scrapings, potato roast/stew, onion sambar, rasam, appalam, a sweet, usually mysorpaku, thayir/rasa vadai, a variety of pickles, and of course payasam.

The food was served on plantain leaves, and the guests sat on the floor in front of them to enjoy the meal. We youngsters enjoyed every moment of the day, taking part in most of the activities. The main attraction was the pal payasam(milk and rice pudding), which was almost pink in colour, and next the rasa vadai and the thayir vadai and mysorepaku, and of course the rare dishes made with English vegetabes.

The potato is considered an everyday item today, but in my childhood days, it was considered a rare delicacy. A feast with potato poriyal was summed up as A class. Potato stew pushed back every other dish, and the potato roast was the last word at any feast.

For drinks it was bonji, or lemon juice. Fridges were unheard of. Mud pots were cleaned and filled with water the previous day itself. And to serve the bonji in, silver tumblers were taken out, polished and readied.

I believe even pumpkin was a foreign vegetable, introduced to India by the Portugese, who were called Parangi by us Indians. The pumpkin is known in Thamizh as parangikkai. Like the pumpkin was Indianised in course of time, tomatoes and cauliflower have also become household names.

There was a time when we used to get only seasonal fruits and vegetables. Cauliflower, cabbage, radish are all winter vegetables. As for the Indian vegetables, there are different kinds – lady’s finger in May-June, snake gourd and bitter gourd in August - September, cluster beans in July and brinjals in February, to mention a few.

Now vegetables have no seasons or months – they are available all round the year. When lady’s finger, flat beans and cluster beans were in season, I used to make 'vathal' (pieces parboiled in salt and sun-dried), to be used in off season times. Punjabi women used to sun-dry cauliflower heads and preserve them for the summer days.

One last line. The fruit seller’s cry still echoes in my ears – Bambai ka kela, Allahabad ka guava, Kashmiri sev, Benares ka aam, Hyderabadi angur. (Bananas from Bombay, pears from Allahabad, apples from Kashmir, mangoes from Benares, grapes from Hyderabad) Those days have become bygone days. I miss that Delhi…..

LOVE

2009-02-17T10:01:00.007+05:30

Love is eternal, love is universal, love is God, love is also selflessness.

The story ‘Gift of the Magi’ by O. Henry, is an ideal example for this. I am sure everyone must have read this story. For those who have not, here is a short summary. A young couple, very much in love, but very poor, got married and were happy together. For their first Christmas, they each wanted to give the other what he or she wanted most, or wished to have. The girl’s pride and joy was her long and beautiful hair. She had often seen a hair clip in a shop display, and wished she could buy it. The young man had a pocket watch given to him by his father which he valued very much, and hoped to buy a chain for it some day when he could afford it. Each one wanted to fulfil the other’s wish. So the girl had her long hair cut, sold it to the wigmaker, and with that money she bought the watch chain for her husband, had it packed and ready for him. The young man sold his watch and bought the hair clip his wife had been admiring. And when each saw the other’s gift they were so moved at the depth of love that had prompted such great sacrifices.

This kind of love is so selfless, caring and wanting to fulfil only the loved one’s need. .

There are different kinds of love – the love a mother feels for her child, which is different from the love a father feels for the child. They both want to give and do the best they can afford. They are both ready to sacrifice everything and anything for the child’s sake - the mother taking care of the child’s present needs and at times fanciful wishes, whereas the father sacrifices his luxuries to give his children a good education and a happy worry –less future. The bonding between brothers and sisters is also a certain kind of love, ready to help one another in any situation, even at risk to oneself.

The love between man and woman started with Adam and Eve, and will go on for ever, as long as there are Adams and Eves. This is a passionate love, wanting to be in each other’s company all the time, not willing to share or include anyone else. A saying in Thamizh goes, which translated means ‘Desire lasts for 60 days and infatuation for 30 days” (Aasai 60 naal, moham muppathu naal’ ). Love goes beyond all this. This kind of love which is from the heart lasts for ever. There is a Chinese saying, “Love marriage is like a kettle full of boiling water. With time this will become tepid, whereas an arranged marriage is a kettle full of cold fire set on a slow fire, to get to boiling point. This means the love will go on forever. In the bygone days there were child marriages with the couple growing up together in all phases of life. And when they reach old age, their love for each other is evident in all their spoken words and caring actions. My own parents stayed married for 70 years. I know how much they cared and respected each other’s feelings and thoughts. This did not mean they had no verbal fights or disagreements. Their love for each other was above all this.

Another couple, who were our friends, was the Warriers. Theirs was a love marriage in the 1940s. I have never seen a couple like them, so soft-spoken with each other, always caring for each other’s needs, and they stayed married till the end. An ideal love story.

Love for animals is another kind of love. Children who love pets are willing to go to any lengths to safeguard them. I remember how my granddaughters Parvati and Swati grieved when their father decided to give away Simba, one of their dogs, because he was a half-breed. They both, just young children, cried so much, that he had to drop the idea.

There are also cases of animals loving their masters so much that they are willing to die for them, and with them. I remember reading in the newspapers how an elephant sensing his mahout was dead, stood by his side day and night without food and water, till he too dropped dead. An Arab went on a mission on his horse. While returning, far from home, he head a heart attack and died. The horse brought the dead Arab home, not by carrying him on his back, but by holding his master by the belt with his teeth. Once he reached home, the horse too fell dead. A horse can go for miles with people riding him, but cannot carry anyone with his teeth.
How much the horse must have loved his master.

Love for one’s homeland is another aspect in this wide word – LOVE. You must have heard of the small Dutch boy who kept his country from being flooded by plugging the hole in the dyke with his finger for a whole night, till help came in the morning.

Love is Bhakthi – devotion to God, where the person forgets every need, and lives only to worship and serve God. There are many examples – to name a few, Kabir, Surdas, Tulsidas, Meera, Thyagaraja and Andal. All of them served god by singing His praises.

Love is all-embracing, ever forgiving, ever remembering, ever thinking of doing good to the loved ones, ever omnipotent, and that is God.
Love is God.

MADRAS THEN, CHENNAI NOW

2009-02-06T12:20:00.005+05:30

The name of the city has changed - so also everything else in this once beautiful, large, spread out city, in the last fifty years.

Then Madras was the capital of the Madras Presidency which comprised today’s Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, Tamilnadu and Malabar (part of Kerala). My first visit to Madras was in 1945 as a young bride on my way to New Delhi. Whenever we came down South from Delhi to our home town in Kerala, we would spend a couple of days with our uncle and aunt in Monegar Chowltry, and so we visited Madras many times. In 1957, my husband was posted here for six months, so I actually got a feel of the city then. I came back to Madras in 1998 and have been living here with my daughter off and on, more on than off. In the last twenty years itself, Madras has changed so much, in many visible ways.

What really attracted me in Madras on my first visit was the beach, the Marina beach, which at that time was considered the longest beach in the world. It was just a long and wide spread of sand up to the waves from the road. There were only a few sellers of eatables scattered over the place, and we really relaxed going there. And look at today’s’ beach. It is now crowded, not only with men, women and children, but also by so many brick and mortar constructions, and so many temporary constructions, too. And a car park between the road and the waves. I find this beach very different from what I had seen on my first visit, very crowded and very commercialized like many beaches in other parts of the world. The only thing that attracts me here on the beach now is the row of statues - very beautiful, imposing and artistic.

To those who come to the beach for the first time now, it will seem wonderful, but for old-timers like me who have seen the old Marina, this is a disappointment. At the same time this is called progress.

Madras of those days was a very laid-back city, very quiet and peaceful. The roads were deserted most of the time with only a few cars plying here and there, and fewer buses. There were no auto rickshaws, no two-wheelers (like scooters and motorcycles) but for a few cycles. Another commuting facility which the city boasted of was the tram service, running from the Town area via Royapettah up to Mylapore, Luz. I remember those tram rides in Madras in the late 40s. Now Mount Road, called Anna Salai, is so congested and crowded with vehicles of all sorts, including bullock carts. One finds it very difficult, tiresome and time consuming to cross Anna Salai at any point. Chennai city has become a moving city like any other metropolis anywhere else.

In the old city of Madras there were no high rise buildings, only single bungalows surrounded by courtyards on four sides and pukkah walls. Today all the single storey buildings have been pulled down, with multi-storey buildings taking their place, changing the skyline of the city.
The shops were also fewer at that time - unless one went to China Bazaar, Flower Bazaar Pondy Bazaar and Luz Corner, which were known as shopping centres. When we were living here, our house, a beautiful bungalow, was on a road off Mowbrays’ Road, (now TTK Road). The few shops in our locality used to close by 8 pm. One evening I found I had run out of salt. And to buy that packet of salt my husband had to drive me all the way to Pondy Bazaar. There too, there was only a single provision shop open, where we found our salt. What a difference to today’s night life in the shops.

Then there was the mother of today’s shopping malls, the Moore Market, where you could buy and sell everything. Any visitor to the city was treated as a hero on his return home because he had been to ‘pattanam’, the name given to the city by people in the interior south. The womenfolk in his family in the villages would boast no end, showing off their celluloid soapboxes and powder boxes bought in Moore Market. Chennai city now boasts of malls in every area, crowded with so many consumer goods and so many eating places, full of people all the time.

In the Madras days, there were only a few choice eating places like Dasaprakash, (near Egmore) catering to vegetarians, Ambi’s Café and Ramakrishna Lunch Home (both in Parry’s) and Swami’s Café, (near present day Sathyam theatre) to mention a few. We went to Dasaprakash, especially for the ice creams - the children simply loved the big cups of ice cream. Ice cream was not available in so many places then. I still remember the taste of hot adai served with a blob of butter on it for breakfast at Swami’s. Whenever we visited Madras from Pondicherry for a day, our favourite place for lunch was Ramakrishna Lunch Home. And the children and I used to tease my husband saying that it was because it carried his name that he patronized it. Close to this was the famous 777 Pickles and Appalam shop, where we never forgot to pick up two or three of both to take home. Today there are a minimum of two or three eateries in each street.

Music and art flourish here now. The British left in 1947, but it took a long time for the British influence to leave us, resulting in a dearth of great musicians in the late 20th century. Now all that has changed. Where girls once learnt singing, only as a passport to get married, we find now there are many great female musicians. Among the musicians are well-educated professionals, who are world famous for their music, like Sanjay Subrahmaniam. Art in any form is well-encouraged, exhibited, and well-received.

Madras city had only a handful of theatres in the fifties, one or two of them screening only English movies. We used to go to the night shows on the spur of the moment, for there was no advance booking. I still remember seeing ‘Bhowani Junction’, which was set in India. Tickets were available on demand any time. I also took my mother-in-law to many Tamil movies for the afternoon show. Now, I think one has to plan ahead even to have some entertainment like watching a movie. Entertainment at home is available at the touch of a button on the TV.

When I came to live in Madras from Delhi in 1956, I used to mostly wear cotton sarees. A friend of mine told me that if I wanted to be acknowledged by the Madras ‘in-set’ I should wear Kanjeepuram sarees and plenty of ornaments – an idea I rejected. In Chennai today, you can see anyone under the age of 50 wearing jeans and tops, or salwar suits very comfortably, with sarees reserved for special occasions. I have seen professors, teachers and lawyers going to work then, wearing the dhoti in the traditional panchakacham style with turban, which has disappeared along with the traditional nine yard saree – both are now worn only on the day of the wedding. The 'pavadai daavani' (long skirt and a half sari) costume, which I consider very elegant for a teenage girl, cannot be seen any more. In my younger days, nobody wore 'pavadai daavani'. We all graduated straight to sarees from skirts or long skirts and blouses. But it came into vogue in the fifties. Later I felt a great fascination for this costume. While we were in Madras, my sister came down for a short visit with her children and their cousins. We decided to go to Moore Market, and my sister made me wear her teenage daughter’s 'pavadai daavani',and I did so happily, feeling very trendy.

People in Madras generally were, and still are very generous and helpful. In 1967, we were at Vummidiar’s to buy a pair of bangles for our eldest daughter’s valaikappu. She was expecting her first, and the bangle ceremony is one of the important events connected with the pre-natal ceremonies. We had just chosen a pair of 'kadas' (thick bangles) and were looking at it, when a lady walked in, saw the one we had selected, and wished to buy it. When she realized we were buying it for our daughter, she apologized and wished her a safe delivery and left. I shall never forget her kindness.

The city is still changing, and I wonder what it will be like fifty years from now.

This piece appeared in the February, 2009 issue of Eve's Touch, a Madras/Chennai publication.

BEFORE THE FIRST BABY ARRIVES. . .

2009-01-20T17:58:00.011+05:30

Last week my daughter Raji had a call from her son Sriram giving us the happy news that there will be an addition to our family around the first week of July. It will be their first baby and we are all very much thrilled, in fact we are all still in that euphoric state. Both sets of grandparents have mentally started looking forward to their next trip to the US, waiting for instructions from the children as to when to go there to help.

Me being what I am, I have started thinking about those bygone days when things were entirely different. My mother has told me about a lot about the way people lived in those days, about traditions and customs. These traditions and customs continued till the early part of the 20the century, with the joint family system being prevalent. It was the elders who decided everything. When a daughter-in-law conceived for the first time, it was the father-in-law who conveyed the good news to her father on a post card, though they would be living within a distance of 10 miles. The very next day her family would come over to her in-law’s place with sweets and fruits to show their happiness and to congratulate each other.

Even in those days it was a well-known fact that the third month of pregnancy was a risky period. So to safeguard the pregnancy, and also to pamper the young mother-to-be in her morning sickness period, she would stay with her parents for a month.
After that in the fifth month, the ceremony known as ‘valaikaapu' would be celebrated. It was a social function, when the young mother-to-be’s hands would be decked with gold, silver and glass bangles. Usually, the ceremony would be conducted at her mother’s place and ladies (friends, relatives) were invited to partake in the function, including folks from her in-law’s place. A professional bangle seller would be invited to supply glass bangles not only to the mother-to-be, but to all women present, who were allowed to choose whatever and however many they felt like having.

I had also witnessed the valaikaapu ceremony of my older sisters, when I must have been 10 and 12 years old.
One thing that stands out in my memory is the taste of the savoury that was made for this function called ‘varavarisi’. Though it is more than 60 years since I last tasted it, I can still remember and feel its taste. Some 10 years ago, I tried to make it, but did not succeed fully. The taste did not come anywhere near the one of the bygone days.

My theory for the reason for the function is that the different kinds of bangles on the hands would distract the onlooker’s attention from the growing girth of the waist of the expecting mother, and avert the ‘evil eye’.
This function may be compared to the one in the United States – the ‘baby shower’.

At the baby shower, the expecting mother is invited to a friend’s place where other friends gather and shower her with gifts needed for the baby. And there is much rejoicing and music, and roasting and toasting.

In the eighth month the ceremony called ‘Seemantham’, a religious ceremony is performed at the husband’s place, conducted with Vedic rites by learned priests. This ceremony includes the husband, too.

This picture was taken at the ‘Seemantham’ of Raja, my husband’s brother, which we conducted in Pondicherry at our place (in 1960). You can see that his wife’s hands are already sporting the bangles.

The 'Seemantham’ is followed by ‘Poochoottal’, which means decorating with flowers.And the expectant mother's hair is bedecked with flowers. This is done by the husband’s sister who also offers her a new saree. A ceremony called ‘Appam kozhakattai’ follows, when two kinds of sweets are prepared, and offered first to the mother-to-be and distributed to all those present. There is much singing and rejoicing.

All this changed in the 1940s, when young men from South India started going to the north, mainly Delhi, Bombay Karachi and Calcutta, in search of jobs. Once they settled down there, with a good job in the government or a well know n company, they were considered eligible for marriage. Even before they could realise what was happening, they were asked to tie the knot (thrice!) around the neck of the girl chosen by their parents, and settled down as family men.

I was one such bride. Delhi in those days was very, very far off from our native place in Kerala – a distance of three to four days’ journey by train. Today the world has become small and closer. When I conceived for the first time, we were the ones to write to our respective parents, informing them of the news. In those days it took more than a week for a letter to reach our parents, unlike today, when one can reach anyone on any corner of the earth at the touch of a button in a few seconds.

I was the first one in the family to leave our native state immediately after marriage, and settle in Delhi. My sisters and my elder brother were settled in our native state (another sister was in Delhi, but she came there only after two of her children were born). It was the same with my husband’s family also - he was the first to go to Delhi in 1940. So to accommodate and suit our convenience, all the traditions and customs had to be changed. So the 'valaikaapu' and 'seemantham' were performed on the same day at my husband’s parents’ place, when we went down south, as directed by the elders in the family.

I went to my parents’ place for the delivery from there. And believe it or not, my husband first saw his first-born when the baby was six months old, when we joined him in Delhi.

This system continued with Raji, my eldest daughter also, in the late 1960s.
Amongst later couples, the trend changed. Many fathers-to-be don’t go through the ‘seemantham’ ceremony, whereas their wives look forward to the ', varavarisi' ceremony which is then conducted at their mother’s place where they come for the confinement. In my own family, the 'valaikaapu' ceremony for my two younger daughters was conducted like this, in the 7th or 8th month of pregnancy when they came home.

Another trend in the lifestyle was created by the 1970s when young men after getting their Master’s degree started moving to the US for higher studies. Our son Bala was one among them. Nowadays every family has at least one son or daughter in the US. They come home to get married to their own chosen partners, or in some cases, chosen by their parents. Some get married in the US itself. Children born in the US automatically become US citizens, so all these young people settle there and have their babies there. So it is for the parents, or at least the mother, to help out in these times.

The parents go there with happy thoughts of conducting 'seemantham' and 'valaikaapu', or at least the 'valaikaapu', ready with sarees, veshtis and bangles. A few parents going there are lucky; the children go through the functions willingly, or at least oblige their parents.

Even if the parents find it difficult to go to help out with the baby, the father-to-be is well trained to take care of the newborn baby. He is also present when the baby is born, and the first one to have a look at the baby. The new father also gets maternity leave of two months.

In the 1980s when my grandson Kartik was born, both grandmothers were unable to help them for various reasons. My daughter-in-law Jaishree had a baby shower, arranged by her friends and colleagues. My son Bala managed his office (he was running his own advertising agency), took care of his wife, cooked for her and bathed the new born in the traditional manner (by massaging the baby with oil before the bath) and took great pride in doing that.

My grandson Sankar, whose daughter was born there about four years ago, was very good at changing diapers, and giving her baths, though both I and my daughter were there to help out. He enjoyed the role thoroughly.

This is the situation now – I wonder what the future hold for today’s children.
******************************************************************************************

Recipe for Varavarisi.
Ingredients:
Channa whole (kadalai) – one cup
Urud dal whole – one cup
Moong dal (pacha payaru, green gram) – one cup
Lobiya (Vellai payaru, black eyed peas) - one cup
Moonfali (Verkadalai, Peanuts) – one cup
Horse gram (Kollu) – half cup
Mochai kottai ( a kind of broad bean, its English or Hindi equivalents is not known to me) - half cup
Rice – half cup
White Til - ( vellai ellu, Sesame seeds) - two table spoonfuls.

For the masala: add one teaspoon of chili powder (or according to taste) with one tablespoon of salt, half a teaspoon of asafetida (hing, perungayam) powder, and pinch of turmeric powder to a cup of water. Mix well and keep aside.
Break a coconut, and remove the flesh from the shell, cut it into small pieces and deep fry in oil and keep aside.

Clean and soak all items separately overnight. Next morning drain off the water and dry the grains separately, spread evenly on a cotton material on the floor.

Heat a kadai, (or wok) and slowly roast each of the dried pulses separately, one after the other. When they are nearly roasted, add a spoonful of the masala mixture to each of the pulses, and roast till all the water is absorbed.

Remove from fire, and cool separately. When everything is really cool, mix all together really well with the coconut pieces, and store in airtight containers. This will last for more than a month.
This is very rich in protein, which is a must for the expectant mother.

***************************************************************************************

Valaikappu Picture courtesy Internet

TRIBUTE

2009-01-13T11:36:00.004+05:30

DATED DECEMBER 12, 2008

Till yesterday, we were seven.
Today we are only six.

Today my brother Ambi (Mama) is no more. He was my older brother, but was called Ambi (younger brother) by our parents and everyone in the family. He was the second among us, but was the oldest son.

He was my friend – yes, my friend - when I was about fourteen or so. My older sisters had got married and left home. He used to tell me so many things that were happening in the world and our neighbourhood. He used to tell me things that would interest a girl of my own age, like new cinemas being produced with new stars. I heard about M. S.'s 'Savithri' first from him. He even discussed the famous Lakshmi Kantham murder case. Lakshmi Kantham was the publisher and editor of a yellow journal bearing his name.

Some memories remain vivid. I remember the evening I went with him and Vijaya Manni (my sister-in-law) to the famous 'Ayyappa' drama by TKS Brothers. Our car gave us trouble and would not start on our return trip. There were no taxis in those days, and he brought us back home in a bullock cart.

He was a jolly person, and along with the husband of my oldest sister, used to tease me a lot when I was a very small child. When I grew up he once told me that ear drops did not suit me. I removed them at that very moment and never wore them again. When I got married he told me, "You took off your earrings when this Ambi told you to, now you wear them when your Ambi (my husband was known as Ambi in his family) wants you to." I respected those words so much.

He was a father figure to me. Thatha (our father) was always busy with his judgements and court work, and in the evenings with his tennis and Masonic Lodge. So I always approached Ambi to get permission to go to excursions with my classmates, or to go to a picture, or whatever else I needed.

He was eleven years older than me, and was my friend, philosopher and guide. When I got married he advised me not to say anything negative about life at my in-laws to anyone. I took him in earnest and never breathed a word to anyone about what happened within the four walls of my home.

Whenever we met at Lakshmi Nivas (the name of my parents’ house) afterwards, he used to talk to me about many things that troubled him. I was proud to be his confidante.

He was very proud of his job as a judge. He had told me that he never encouraged divorce and advised couples who approached the court for divorces not to go through it and give themselves another chance.

I was very close to him and I always had respected him and the advice he had given me time and again. I can never digest the thought that he is no more. As long as I remember him, this memory of mine will keep him alive for me.

The photo above was taken when he was about 35 or so.

MY GRANDMOTHER

2008-11-15T17:09:00.007+05:30

Like every child in each family we also had two grandmothers, Paati and Karamanai Ammai. Paati was our father’s mother. We never got to know her well, for she stayed alone in her own house, after her husband’s death. Paata passed away when their eldest son, my father, was only 22 years old. Even when Paati visited us, she never stayed for a whole day, always in a hurry to return to her place. When we visited her also she had no time for the kids. I came to know later on that she was like this with all her grandchildren, had no patience or time for them. She passed away soon after I got married.

Karamanai Ammai

My other grandmother was the one who helped my mother in bringing us up. Her name was Parvathi. She lived in Karamanai, a suburb of Trivandrum, on the banks of the river Karamanai. It was then a Brahmin settlement, comprising nearly ten streets, lined with row-houses, all double-storied, with common courtyards and separate backyards. We called her simply Karamanai Ammai. (Karamanai Mother).

Karamanai Ammai slept with us, woke up with us, laughed and cried with us, nursed and tended us in our sickness, told us stories, scolded us for our misconduct, praised us to the skies even for our small successes and good conduct. She endeared herself to us to such an extent we always wanted her to be with us, fought with each other to sleep by her side at night. She taught us what life was, to use discretion, to talk less and work more. She disciplined us to be self-sufficient, to run all our errands inside the house, and not depending on others to do things for us.

Her favourite proverb was, ‘Uthadu theyamal ullangal theyanam.’ Which means, ‘Instead of wearing out your mouth, use your feet’. This is engraved so deeply in my mind, even today as far as possible, I try to do things for myself. Her favourite curse for her grandchildren was , “Nasamattu poka”, which literally means “Be free of all that is bad and unwanted.”

It was she along with the midwife who helped us deliver our babies. It was her strict rule and order that during the labour, we should never make a groan or grunt which may be heard by the others waiting outside the room. We sisters instilled this rule in our daughters also at the time of their confinement, and if Karamanai Ammai was alive today, she would be proud of her great granddaughters. My sisters and I always went to our parents’ place to have our babies. In those days one did not go to the hospital to deliver babies. The midwife used to come home to check us periodically and help us with the childbirth. After that it was Karamanai Ammai, who took charge of the new mother and the baby for the next four weeks. She would herself prepare the lehiyam (special medicine) which was a must for the next 90 days.

When we were little girls along with her storytelling, she taught us a little about sex also. I remember one or two of those stories. A poor couple was cutting grass in the fields, when they heard an announcement that the Maharaja was coming that way. Immediately the woman undid the mundu (piece of cloth worn like a skirt) she was wearing around the waist, and covered her breasts with it. When asked why she did that, her answer was that what she was born with was nothing to cover, but what she had developed after growing up, should be hidden from other eyes.

Karamanai Ammai was born in the 1870s. She got married before she was eight years old, as was the custom in those days. What really intrigued me was that she started running her house for her husband when she was barely 11 years old, just a child and not a woman yet. My grandfather was a school teacher, and he was sent to a distant town (from Karamanai, part of Trivandrum) to teach. So Karamanai Ammai was sent with him to cook for him and generally take care of him. Nowadays one cannot even imagine such an idea. Even at the tender age, she was able to stop the landlady, a widow in whose house they lived, from pilfering her kitchen provisions. She used to insert a stick from the broom in the container in a particular way. If the container was tampered with, the stick would be out of place, which helped her to tackle the old lady.

Once they settled down in Karamanai, she became very friendly and popular with everyone in her neighbour hood. She was ever ready to help and advise everyone who approached her. She was listened to with respect and love, and was generally known as Parvathi Chithammai.
Though my grandfather’s pay as a school teacher was very low, she used to help people both in kind and cash. She even managed to save enough money to leave a substantial amount for her four children when she died in 1959.

My grandfather, Karamanai Appa, passed away when I was four years old. Still, I remember him - a pious, god-fearing man, loving and caring to his grandchildren, he always had a stock of crystallized sugar and dried grapes to give us whenever we visited him.

She had four children, three daughters and a son, and my mother was the eldest. Our uncle (mama) and his wife were childless. Though my aunt conceived many times, no child survived. In those times women who were childless were looked upon with disdain, and excluded from auspicious occasions. Karamanai Ammai was entirely different. She never let her daughter-in-law down. My mami was the one to lead in all auspicious occasions, whether it was a wedding in the family or kaapu, the seventh day ceremony, of the new born baby. There was so much affection and understanding between them.

My mother, seated centre, with mami on her left. The other ladies are my sisters, and the children my nephews and nieces.

A neighbour of Karamanai Ammai had two daughters of marriageable age, ten and eight. They had fixed the marriage of the older child. Karamanai Ammai suggested that they get the younger one married on the same muhurtham , to cut down expenses. She herself chose the girl’s mama (maternal uncle) as the bridegroom, and she allowed her friend to borrow her daughter-in-law’s wedding sarees, ornaments and a few silver pieces for the occasion. Our mami also raised no objection. Everyone in the locality applauded the generosity of my grandmother.

My grandmother was very shrewd, at the same time very diplomatic and solving her own and others’ family problems. I used to feel that given the chance and proper education, she would have been a good match for any of today’s well-educated, highly placed women in any capacity. The pity is that such women were born a hundred years before time, and lost their chance to become celebrities.

My father had great respect for her wisdom and shrewdness. He consulted her in many family maters, including his sisters’ marriages and settling them down. With her limited resources, she helped my parents also, helping them to settle down in Trivandrum.

Here is a story which shows how much my grandmother was respected by young and old. My mother, a native of Karamanai, never got over her love for a bath in the river. Living in the city, she just could not find the time to go to the river everyday. But once a week, mainly on Saturdays, after my father left to go to the court, she used to take me and my sisters to Karamanai to give us a good oil bath at the river. One day, after bathing in the river we went to our grandmother’s place for lunch. Suddenly while eating my mother remembered that she had folded a Rs.100 note in her saree pallu when she left home. And that it must have fallen in the water when she was undraping the saree to take a bath. When my grandmother heard this, she stopped eating at once, and went to the river bank, where there were a few late bathers and children playing. On enquiring, she found that a poor boy had found a Rs. 10 note floating in the water and had taken it home. It took some time to locate the boy. On being asked about the money, he did not admit at first to finding it. But the very sight of my grandmother made him come out with the truth. He had taken the money to the local (and only) grocer, got half a rupee’s worth of one day’s requirement (like rice and other condiments) for cooking, and had given the change to his mother. My grandmother heard him out, and took him along to the grocer, and challenged him. The grocer came out with the truth, and said that the boy had mistaken Rs. 100 note for a Rs. 10 note. He also admitted that he had already stocked his shop with groceries he had bought with the money. He requested my grandmother not to go to the police, and that by next morning he would come home and pay her the full amount. Such was the respect she commanded.

In those days Rs. 100 went a long way. One could buy enough groceries to last a year. Or six to ten silk sarees, or about 25 cotton sarees. And more than eight sovereigns of gold. (A sovereign is 8 gms of gold, and costs about Rs. 10, 000 today).

The pictures above were taken by my younger brother Moorthy, an avid and enthusiastic photographer.

MY GURU

2008-10-13T14:41:00.003+05:30

Anantharama Iyer was his name. He entered into our lives - mine and my two older sisters as our tuition master, when we were 8, 10, 12 respectively. Our father came to know about our poor performance in the term exam of the school year. So this person became our tuition master.

He was formidable to look at. Dressed in a 'panchakacham veshti' and an 'angavastram' to cover his bare torso, he had a 'kudumi' (the way the purohits of today have their hair styled and most Brahmins of those bygone days). He had three fingers of 'vibhoothi' (sacred ash) pattern on his forehead, with a sandal paste 'pottu' in the centre - and always a two days growth of beard on his face. He was tall and hefty, with broad shoulders and a broader waist. Just looking at him gave us the shivers.

He was a teacher in the Model School for Boys, teaching Mathematics and Sanskrit. He was good in these two subjects. He soon found out that though we had nothing to do with Sanskrit, that we had no interest in Maths also. He changed all that very soon.

Every evening by the time we came back from school, we found him waiting for us. There would not be enough time for us to change our clothes, or take our coffee and tiffin. Coming home before us, we found out in due course that he would have had his share of coffee and tiffin at our place, for he came here straight from school to teach us. By the time we three sat in front of him with our home work, almost everyday he would start napping, snoring loudly. This noise used to wake him up with a start. Then he would remember where he was and what he was supposed to do. So by turn, he would look into our notebooks, find the mistakes we had made, explain the problem, and make us do the work again, while he went back to sleep. If ever he found out that we were making the same mistake again, well, our thighs would be turning red and blue in colour, because of his hard pinching. It was terrible.

Once our tuition time was over it gave us utmost pain and at the same time pleasure in comparing the marks on our thighs and finding out whose was worse. We never had the guts to complain about this to our parents, for we knew that we wouldn’t get any open sympathy from our mother.

This master of ours had endeared himself to our parents by conversing with them about their favourite topics. My mother’s weakness for pooja, her commitment to certain ideas and beliefs prompted him to suggest to her to conduct 'Bhagavathi Sevai' every month. He added that if this pooja was conducted every month on my father’s star, it would benefit him professionally and personally. My mother who always had my father’s welfare at heart agreed to this. So from that month onwards the 'Bhagavathi Sevai' was conducted for the next so many years with the tuition master turned into the vadhyar (priest) to conduct the pooja. And my mother had the satisfied feeling that the Devi’s blessings were showered on us.

I had nothing against this, but being the youngest , he roped me in to help me with drawing of the design for the base of the padmam, with different coloured powders all made at home, and very organic. It was a very intricate pattern. So every month for many years to follow, I was the one to assist him in this. And he in turn would bless me with a prosperous life with a good husband.

With my father, this master of mine had another trump. Knowing that my father was suffering from back pain, he suggested ‘sooriya namaskaram’. He became my father’s physical instructor and initiated him into it. By 6 am everyday he would be at our place for that purpose, and see that my father did the 'sooriya namaskaram' properly. Well, this did help my father to get rid of his back pain, and at the same time helped the tuition master to get into my father’s good books.

With all his family commitments, he did not ignore his daily tasks as a tuition master. He made us learn the multiplication tables up to 16 by heart. He made us do sums mentally and give him the answer swiftly. So this helped us a lot. He had a way in handling all subjects. I some of the lessons he taught me which made life easier for me in school. When my turn came to help my children with the home work, I automatically followed his method, minus the pinching – not fully minus, a little tap here and a minute pinch there, helped both the teacher and the student.

My tuition master was a great Ayyappan devotee. I imbibed this kind of Ayyappan devotion from him. He used to go to Sabarimala every year for more than 25 years, walking all the way from his home in Trivandrum, all the way to Sabarimalai, a long, long way. And walked back, after offering prayers. It used to take more than a month for this. And the forests were infested with wild elephants and tigers. Every year after his return form Sabari malai he had so many thrilling and frightening stories to tell us. All this only increased my devotion to Swami Ayyappan.

The last time I saw the Master was about 40 years ago. Yet I remember him very well. And today I write this with tears in my eyes and pranams in my mind. He was a great man in his own way. Long live his ilk.

NAVARATHRI . . . .

2008-10-01T18:49:00.014+05:30

ALSO KNOWN AS BOMMAI KOLU. . . .

Maiji's Kolu in 1978

. . . .is enjoyed by women and girls all over South India. Now is the time of the year to celebrate the bommai kolu (dolls arrangement). I went to see the bommais (dolls) on sale near Sri Kapali Temple, and was happy to see so many of them.

Click on the picture for an enlarged view

My first recollection of this nine-day festival is that a kolu would appear overnight in our pooja room like magic. Arranged on nine steps covered with a white cloth, the images of all the gods and goddesses, along with the family’s collection of curios, arranged artistically under a canopy of white cloth, edged with red and green frilled border, and decorated with rainbow coloured paper garlands, it would seem to us children like a magic show.

In a single night after we children were sent to bed, my mother with the help of my elder brother and sisters would have the show ready. For the rest of the 355 days these dolls and everything else were stored in my mother’s tallboys in my mother’s store room. During Navarathri in the evenings, my sister and I, dressed in our best pavadai uduppu (long skirt and blouse) were sent to neigbouring houses to invite the womenfolk there to visit our kolu and accept manjal kumkumam (auspicious objects). In the homes where they had also arranged kolu, we would be welcomed, seated on a pattupai,(silken mat) asked to sing a song, and finally treated to the sundal and any sweet prepared as neivedhiyam (sacred offering to the gods), along with vetrilai pakku (betel leaves and nuts), coconuts, and blouse pieces as gifts. We used to feel like VIP s, when we returned home with our loot. All the while my mother too would be doing the same to visitors at our homes who would have come to invite us. Those ten days were really fun for me and I enjoyed them thoroughly.

When I got married and set up my own home in Delhi, I was astonished to find that kolu was non-existent in the north. Very few families belonging to the south, about four or five had kolu. When my eldest daughter was one year old, I started the kolu with a handful of bommais, typical Delhi made ones – I thus introduced the festival of kolu to my neighbours. These dolls were sold in readiness for Diwali festival pooja, performed to welcome prosperity.

My first kolu was a very small one with just two steps, two feet long and one foot wide. I enjoyed this, and my husband also encouraged me no end. From that kolu, in a period of twenty years, my kolu grew in size and shape, decorated with all the frills my mother had, and also admired by one and all. I am not boasting, but my kolus were well appreciated, and I enjoyed readying them.

Come September, I would start planning for kolu. Apart from the seven steps, I enjoyed having some side shows on the floor, all prepared and made at home with the help of my children. One year it would be a small town with a temple with four towers in the centre, small shops selling things one sees in the towns, around the temple walls; small lanes with bullock carts. Sometimes it would be a hill temple with fields around, and the rich crop nodding their heads, (the crops were grown using fenugreek seeds) and a park with children playing.

One year in Pondicherry I made a model of the whole length of Rajpath of New Delhi, from the Secretariat to Indian Gate, with the lawns, the fountains, and all the buildings including the Parliament House. Everything was hand made with cardboard. Another year it was the seafront of Pondicherry with the sea and the waves, and the buildings on the seashore. Another year I made the map of India, marked the main cities with important buildings, and people dressed in the costumes of the regions.

After coming back to Delhi, I created theme-based sideshows like the Fairy Tales and Nursery Rhymes.

A week before kolu started I would be ready with my plans and start to prepare the hills, the fields and parks with loose earth carried in from outside by the bucketful. The mud was moulded by hand into various objects like walls, shops, huts, with windows and doors. Ice cream cups painted red were used as pots for plants and shrubs. My father-in-law took pleasure in teasing me that the whole room was now a dump. At the same time he would be the first to admire all the handiwork I had done. And gradually we had collected a large number of bommais, all big and small from Trichy, Chingleput and Pondicherry, including the famous Bunrutti bommais.

Yesterday at the shops I found that everything I made then was available readymade – including plots of grass!

My centerpiece was a Lakshmi, about a foot tall, sitting on a lotus flower, six inches high and size of a dinner plate. Two elephants, big, white ones stood on either side of the Goddess with a garland each held in its trunk.

My last kolu was in 1978 in Delhi. Somehow with elders no more, and the older children leaving home, and us moving to a smaller house dampened my enthusiasm. My only regret now is I never thought of taking any photos of the kolu in Pondicherry – they were worth it. My consolation is that my last Kolu in 1979 was photographed and published in the Indian Express newspaper of New Delhi. The kolu had fewer dolls that year, only those that had escaped an attack by white ants, caused by a leaking pipe in the storeroom. I managed to salvage many by repainting and touching them up.

At the kolu in Trichy, with newly bought bommais, I had also made a park with a pond in which fish and swans were swimming and a stork waiting on the edge, as though ready to catch a fish. My first guest was the Collector’s wife. We were meeting for the first time, and both were nervous to start the conversation. Finally she asked me “Do you have a cook?” The question was put in Tamil with only the word cook in English. Before I could say No. my four year old, Viji, came out saying, “Yes, we have one, standing on one leg!” and pointed to the stork. Poor girl – she thought our visitor was asking for a stork. In Tamil the word for stork is ‘kokku’ which sounds like ‘cook’. Anyway that broke the ice and conversation flowed easily.

Now all my dolls are decorating the kolus of my friends and relatives, to whom I gave them away. Only two dolls, a Lakshmi and a Saraswathi, more than 50 years old, remain at Raji’s place – a reminder of the days gone by.

THE ROCKING HORSE AND OTHER TOYS

2008-09-13T10:46:00.013+05:30

In today’s children’s world the only toy - is it a toy? – I don’t see is the rocking horse. There are different types of toys for the kids to play with starting with the rattles, and as the child grows up, the toys also change. There are so many of them -, which makes me happy for the lucky children of today.

Raja on his rocking horse

When we were children I don’t remember having any toys to play with. All we had were a few marappachis,(see picture) wooden dolls, and some wooden chattippanai (pots and pans). We, that is, my sisters and friends were happy with these toys. The chattippanai would be divided into equal parts amongst everyone. We would select a niche in the garden to set up house, cook and keep house. The boys used to join us as men folk who go to office, and the younger ones would act as babies. Gradually this kind of playacting came to an end when girls also started going to school.

There were also the other sorts of games, like playing Kattam which was like the Ludo of today. The squares were drawn on the floor with a charcoal piece, or a chalk if available, and for coins, small shells were used. Another game we used to play with our mother and grandmother was the pallankuzhi, a wooden block of 10” and 6” with six shallow pits on the long side and one on the short side with two bigger shallow pits in the centre.

Pallankuzhi with chozhi

This game was played with shells or manjadi distributing 6 to each pit, and changing them from pit to pit. The game had its own rules of picking up the manjadi and dropping it one by one on the pits. The manjadi is a seed red in colour, and shaped like a miniature flying saucer, a very minute one. Today one can find the manjadi, along with kunthumani,(see picture) another seed, red and black, only in a goldsmith’s shop, where it is used to weigh the gold for the last possible minimum weight.

Some years back, Raja took me to Penang for a holiday. We stayed in a hotel by the seaside. It was a beautiful holiday centre and we had a lovely time. While we were having lunch one day, one of the waiters seeing that we are from India, and spoke Tamil, asked me to explain something for him. He took me to the showcase in the lounge, pointed out the pallankuzhi exhibited there and requested me to explain what it was. When he heard my explanation, he was wonderstruck to learn that it was a plaything like a board game.

The boys had their own games like playing marbles. I doubt if today’s children, know what marbles are like. They don’t know the pleasure of confiscating the opponent’s marbles, or the pain when the opponent hits the knuckles with the marble that comes flying from his taut fingers held like an arrow. Another game the boys used to enjoy was the gulli danda - hitting a small wooden object with a bigger wooden stick and finding out who could hit the gulli the farthest.

Gradually all these toys were back benched when board games started appearing in the children’s world. Then came the tricycle, small motor cars and the rocking horse. The rocking horse had a very short life compared to the others. Every child enjoyed rocking on the horse. It was a great toy in the 50s and continued to be popular till the 70s.After that I haven’t seen any.

My own children and the older grandchildren had owned and loved rocking on this wonderful toy. The rocking horse kept the child out of mischief when the mother was busy, and it was so light that it could be carried from room to room or wherever the children wanted. My daughter tells me that her son in London had been looking for a rocking horse in London. They could find it only in one shop, where it was priced at 100 pounds, whereas the one we got for Raja while in Pondicherry cost only Rs. 12 in 1958. It was only Rs. 7 in the late 40s when Raji and Bala were gifted one from an uncle.

Bala and Raji

I have been to the USA frequently from 1975 onwards, but I have never seen a rocking horse with any child, or in any shop and I used to wonder why! Now I wonder if the reason could be this. There was a Hollywood film released in the fifties , based on a short story by D. H. Lawrence, called ‘The Rocking Horse Winner’. I do not remember the story in detail, but the gist of the story was that the boy while rocking on his horse had the gift of forecasting the winning horse in each race at a certain racecourse. The news spread all over the place like forest fire, and the people who were fond of betting and looking forward to making money thronged to his place to listen to his forecast. And they were also willing to pay a lot of money to his parents for this favour. Though I don’t remember how the picture ended, it was said that the young boy who acted in the picture got addicted to rocking on his horse without sleep or food. This went on till he dropped dead one day.

Another toy I remember in those days was the Hula Hoop It was a circular plastic ring with a diameter of 36”. All one had to do was slip the hoop over one’s head, and bring it to one’s hip and keep it there by gyrating one’s hips. I knew children including my own who used to do it for hours at a time, while walking, climbing up and down steps. Our friend’s daughter Latha was a marvel with this hoop. She could keep it circling on her while moving and twisting it all the time.

When television came, they got used to playing TV games, and watching children’s programmes. Television being a novelty, it became the centre of attraction for the child.

Any toy can last only for a certain amount of time, for children get fed up very soon, and look for new ones. Toys play a very great part in increasing children’s mental power to grasp and understand things.

Pictures of kunthumani(courtesy Devendra Pore ), marappachi, manjadi and pallanguzhi sourced from the internet

BACK TO PONDICHERRY

2008-08-24T15:23:00.012+05:30

Babuji with Chief Commissioner L. R. S. Singh

This was how we came to Pondicherry, and a different kind of life.

When we arrived in the city the French culture was very much in evidence. It was soon after the de facto period. The de jure period was five years later, by which time Pondicherry came fully under the Indian Government. The transition was very slow, but steady, bringing the Indian influence by introducing Indian art and culture and tradition, and finally the election to the newly created Pondicherry Legislative assembly. And the politicians taking the reins in their hands. The first elected members were French oriented and gladly welcomed by the public. M. Goubert was elected the Chief Minister.

Babuji with M. Goubert (wearing cap) at a meeting.

He was a very favourite person, and was very friendly and understanding. Till the election the government was run by the Chief Commissioner, and the heads of the three departments – General Administration, Development and Finance. And once the politicians took over the government, the Chief Commissioner was chief only in name.

We were there during this transition period and were able to enjoy many music and dance performances. Concerts by great musicians like Madurai Mani Iyer, Alathur Brothers, Ariyakkudi Ramanujam Iyengar, Madurai Somasundaram and flute maestro T. R. Mahalingam, and dancers like Lalitha, Padmini, Ragini and Kamala Lakshman were too great for words. Above all we were lucky to watch the abhinayam of the great doyen of Bharata Natyam, Bala Saraswathi sitting on the stage. It was great and unbelievable that one can bring to life the pranks of Sri Krishna by just movements of the hands, eyes and facial expressions. It was an unforgettable experience.

With Babuji in the audience at a dance perfomance. Viji (in frock) is in front.

Recently a few months back, my son took me to a Bharata natyam performance by this great artiste’s grandson Aniruddh, at the India International Centre. I t was a very good show, which we enjoyed very much. I was also able to catch glimpses of the great Bala in the grandson. Maybe I am the only person in the family who has witnessed both the grandmother and the grandson on stage.

The music concerts were held on very informal platforms, with both the musicians and the audience, sitting on the floor on a school verandah, or a big classroom. It was more like the chamber music of today, with no mike or loudspeakers, and the audience numbering only forty or fifty in a very friendly atmosphere. I remember a couple of incidents.

Once Mali was playing an alapana in the raagam Thodi, in a very detailed manner. Suddenly a procession led by a nagaswaram playing very much out of tune passed by on the road. Mali stopped what he was playing, and started accompanying the off-key notes of the nagaswaram until the procession moved out of hearing. He then coolly continued with the Thodi raagam.

Another time, a member of our group had to attend a function in Annamalai University, Chidambaram, when there was a concert by the Alathur Brothers in Pondicherry. The senior brother noticed the absence of Mr. S. in our midst and asked about him. He was told he had gone to Chidambaram on work. While the concert was going on, Mr. S. came in and took his seat with us. Seeing him, the musicians’ next song was ‘Chidambaram Pogamal iruppeno?’
We all enjoyed this song as well as the humour that went along with it.

Mr. and Mrs. Datta

In the de facto - de jure period, Pondicherry had seen three Chief Commissioners. After Mr. Kripalani came Mr. L. R. S. Singh, another ICS officer, who was little less stuffy. His beautiful daughter, whenever she was in town, was very friendly with us. A few years later we attended her wedding in New Delhi. After L. R. S. Singh came Mr. Datta, who was really down to earth, and very friendly and sociable, and easy to move with. Mrs. Datta was a very fine person, and we had some good times together.

Once the election was over and the politicians took over the government of the state, Babuji started feeling that he would be called back to Delhi any day. He did not want Raji’s and Bala’s studies to be interrupted. So it was decided to send Raji to Trivandrum to my parents’ place to do her P. U. C., and Bala to stay with his uncles in Delhi for his high school studies. Though we were prepared to leave Pondicherry any time, it took nearly 18 to 20 months to get the signal from Delhi.

In the meantime there was an addition to the family, a most welcome one, our own bundle of happiness, our little baby Gowri. A very lucky one with not only her parents to shower love and affection on her, but also loving brothers and sisters, who simply adored her.

Our plan was to go to Trivandrum to my parents’ place to spend the four months leave period that was due to Pondicherry, and then proceed to Delhi. Babuji was to join duty at Delhi in February. So we left Pondicherry by road via Mysore, Bangalore and Ooty for a little sightseeing for four or five days, and proceeded to Trichur. In Trichur we had a surprise. A telegram to Babuji from the Home Ministry asking him to join duty in a fortnight.

So the Chinese aggression of 1962 was having an impact on our lives too. Babuji before his sojourn to the South was working in the Home Ministry, dealing with foreigners and internment camps. So when the Chinese attack came, he was ordered to come back at the earliest, as he was needed in the Home Ministry.

After settling us down in Trivandrum, Babuji left for Delhi, and stayed with Bala separately for about six to eight weeks. We joined them once Babuji was allotted a quarters in West Kidwai Nagar. There we continued to live for about 16 to 17 years, till Babuji retired.

The quarters at West Kidwai Nagar was single storied at that time. The upstairs flats were built a year or two later.

Our stay in Pondicherry was the best part of our lives. We were exposed to different types of people, language, tradition and customs – different lifestyles, to put it shortly. And we became richer by this exposure. Our horizon, wider, our outlook brighter and our level of tolerance and powers of appreciation of various facts of lifestyle on the increase. I feel that the Pondicherry life opened up new vistas in the children’s minds also.

All said and done, this was the golden period of our life. - Babuji's 'ezharai sani' period.

Minister Venkatasubba Reddiar bidding us farewell.

BABUJI'S EZHARAI SANI – Part III

2008-08-05T18:29:00.012+05:30

LIFE IN MADRAS 1956 to 1957

Viji, Raji and Bala, enjoying ice cream at the Egmore
station while waiting to receive visitors

Our next destination was Madras, today’s Chennai. After staying with a bachelor friend of Babuji, (S. Venkitaramanan, whom the children called Ramanan Mama) for four to six weeks, we moved into a brand new house in Sri Ram Nagar, off Mowbray’s Road, today’s TTK Saalai.

In those days in Delhi, it was a regular practice among friends to share one’s residence with those in need. We as a newly married couple stayed with friends for four to six weeks before we moved into our own government allotted quarters. And we in turn had shared our home with bachelors and newly married couples, and even couples with one or two children. We all lived as one family, sharing all household work and expenses. So I had no objection or awkwardness in staying with this friend. I felt sorry for him actually, for we were a family of eight members, three generations, plus one cook. He left the whole house at our disposal, but for one room upstairs, for his own use.

Madras in those days, that is, in the 1950s was a very laid back city, very quiet and peaceful. The roads were deserted most of the time. There were not even one-hundredths of the cars that fill the roads today. Even Mount Road, that is Anna Saalai of today, was peaceful to drive through. Motorcycles, scooters and auto rickshaws were unheard of. Babuji and I used to enjoy our drive from Gemini Circle (where today’s Anna flyover is) to the Beach Road, through Edward Elliotts Road, that is today’s Radhakrishna Saalai, a long stretch, without any hassle. Marina beach was very different from what it is today. It was a long stretch of sand up to the waves with no barricades or car parks or any man -made structures to ruin its natural beauty. There were a few sellers of eatables scattered over the place, and we really relaxed going there.

Another landmark which is no more is the Moore Market, the mother of all shopping malls of today, which was next to the Central Station. I remember my father getting me a celluloid doll when I was eight years old, and toys for my two younger brothers, when he went to Madras for a meeting, and visited Moore Market. My mother confiscated all these to display them only for the Navarathri kolu. I never played with that doll, and this is possibly the reason that whatever toys I got for my children were given to them to play with.

There were very few shops in our locality. Mowbrays Road was dotted with single bungalows in the middle of large compounds. The house we moved into was also single-storied with a big compound both at the front and at the back. The house belonged to well-known film star Ranjan. His brother Balu was the one who helped us to settle down in this house. Balu and Sujatha, a nice couple, were the only friends we made during these six months.

The few shops in our locality closed by 8 pm. One evening I found I had run out of salt. And to buy that packet of salt Babuji drove me all the way to Pondy Bazaar. Here too, we found only a single provision shop open, where we found our salt. What a difference to today’s life.

You won’t believe me if I told you that government offices in those days started working only at 11 am and ended by 4 pm. So office goers were able to eat their lunch leisurely and then leave for work.

Babuji was very much involved in the general election held that year. He was the returning officer in Kanchipuram. It was a very proud moment for him when he announced the victory of Mr. Annadurai. On the day of the election, after the voting was over, each ballot box was sealed and locked and kept in a room which was locked and sealed in the presence of all party members, to be opened only on the counting day, again in the presence of these members. Suddenly it was noticed that the fan in the room was still on. Someone had forgotten to switch it off. Babuji was in a quandary – an old fan going on for 24 hours for nearly a week could cause a short circuit because of coil-burning. Reopening the room was out of the question. Babuji hit upon the idea of switching off the main in the building, even though it meant that the other parts of the building had to do without electricity.

Even if it was only for six months, Bala joined St. Bede’s. He was not yet nine years old, but he used to travel by public bus; the roads were so safe. Viji was put in a nearby school within walking distance. But no school was willing to admit Raji in Class 7 just for 6 months. All said and done, both Raji and Bala lost one year of their studies – but no regrets.

A few words about Annaji and Ammaji, Babuji’s parents. Annaji was 63 years old and Ammaji was 56 years old. They were then considered as ‘old people’. They both took all the changes that happened in these two years in their stride without any complaint. Not only that, they were a great help in taking care of the children also. Ammaji took upon herself to bring up Raja from the very early days, and Raja also wanted only Ammaji for most things. And the bond between them was really strange. Every Friday Annaji and Ammaji attended the prayer meetings which were held in the Gandhi Mandapam without fail. Some days Rajaji used to attend the meetings, and on certain days M. S. Subbulakshmi used to sing bhajans. And they enjoyed this outing very much.

Another advantage of being in Madras was we came in contact with many of Babuji’s relatives from both sides. The main attraction for Babuji in Madras were Kuttiyappa and Kuttiammai, his aunt and uncle, who lived in Royapuram, and with whom he had spent part of his growing years.

We both welcomed visiting relatives with open arms. Ours was an open house, and there was food ready for anyone who needed it any time of the day – much appreciated by all.

When Babuji’s tenure in the south was to come to an end in June 1957, he applied to the centre for a posting in the south for a few more years, in consideration to his aged parents. The Centre obliged to this by sending Babuji to Pondicherry on deputation.

THE SEMMANGUDI WE KNEW

2008-07-23T11:25:00.013+05:30

Everyone knows great people. Those great people don’t know all who know them. But there are a few of these great persons who remember everyone who is introduced to them and make it a point to remember their names and other details.

Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer, whose centenary falls this week, was one such person. Everyone interested in Carnatic music knows him well, his reputation as a great singer and a lifetime devoted to music and music alone.

My father and Bhagavathar were well known to each other ever since Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer became the asthaana vidwan of Travancore state, and the Principal of Swathi Thirunal Music Academy. Our home in Trivandrum was next to the Academy. In fact, this Music Academy was being conducted in the house which my father bought in 1941. Since then the Academy shifted to the present building.

Babuji was introduced to the Bhagavathar by my father during our wedding. Babuji, a great fan of the Bhagavathar, was really thrilled by this. Babuji use to walk six to eight miles to and fro to listen to the kutcheris of great musicians in his younger days. Babuji was influenced by two friends who were truly interested in music, and it was with these friends that he used to go for these concerts. In those days, most of these concerts were held at functions like weddings. The name of the Bhagavathar was the criterion by which the grandness of the wedding was assessed. Musicians like Semangudi, Madurai Mani Iyer and G. N. Balasubramaniam were the favourite ones.

In 1948, Babuji was coming to Madras from Delhi by the Grand Trunk Express. In Nagpur station, at the middle of the night, a few people entered the compartment Babuji was in. Once they settled down Babuji recognized them as Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer and his accompanying artistes. When Babuji introduced himself after saluting the Bhagavathar, the Bhagavathar said, “Oh yes, I remember you. You are Judge saar’s kadaikutty Mapillai (youngest son-in-law). And till the train reached Madras, Babuji was treated like Bhagavathar’s own son-in-law; not being allowed to spend any money on food, but sharing with him all that they had brought. Babuji was really touched by this gesture.

Whenever Bhagavathar came to Delhi, we never missed any of his concerts. And we used to meet him backstage, where he treated us as one of his family. It was at on e of these meetings the Bhagavathar told us that he had met my father only the previous week in Trivandrum, and as usual when they met, my father was profusely apologetic for not wearing his ‘poonal’. My father never believed in God, leave alone all the rituals that followed. But his greatness was he allowed my mother to have her own way in all the religious rites and rituals and took part in them whenever he was called upon to do so. The poonal would adorn his person at such times. And also on amavasai day to perform the ‘tharpanam’ and on those days he had to do the ‘sraddham’ for his ancestors.

After retirement, one of my father’s daily routines was to walk up to the gate at about 4 pm – the time the Music Academy closed for the day, to meet the Bhagavathar and exchange titbits of gossip. The Bhagavathar used to tease my father, who was 20 years his senior (my father’s 120th anniversary fell on July 16) by saying “Hey Brahmin, why don’t you wear your ‘poonal’?” At home, my father was always bare-chested, as was the custom in those days. On days he remembered, my father would call my younger brother to bring the poonal to the gate saying, “Here comes the Bhagavathar, and if he sees me without it, he will take my life out.”

Bhagavathar had great respect for my father’s judgement in music. People used to come to my father with youngsters good at singing and playing instruments, with requests to get in a word of recommendation to the Bhagavathar. My father always used to help them, and one or two of these, recommended by my father and accepted by the Bhagavathar became world famous artistes in their later life.

The only thing that my father objected to was the Bhagavathar’s habit of claiming one rupee for each autograph he signed. He was collecting for some charitable purpose or committee, I don’t remember which. When my daughter Raji got that autograph after paying that rupee, she had a tough time facing my father and giving an explanation.
Click on picture to enlarge

The last time we met the Bhagavathar was at Malai Mandir in New Delhi in early 1980. when he saw me he asked me about my welfare, and surprised me by saying, “Come on, child, tell me, Do you recognize me, you know my name?” as if I was a child of six or seven, whereas at that time I was above 50. He was really happy when I did namaskaram to him. He spoke to me about my father, his ideas and ideals. I was really touched by his affection, not only for my father, but also for his children.

Semmangudi photograph: Courtesy Internet