BEAUTY

 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

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

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

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

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

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?

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