CHILDHOOD
My mother was born in a very illustrious family Kunnathur Padinjaredath.You can see the ancestral house near the Peruvanam temple south gopuram (gate) I have vague memories of sitting upstairs; looking at the road. I must be four at that time.
The family came there in search of livelihood and became the tantry (main priest-they still are) of the temple. I can imagine mother (kali was her name-a goddess) walking towards the temple, holding the hands of the maidservant, almost naked, with only a plantain leaf strip to cover nakedness, not knowing what fate awaited her...tears swell in my eyes, even as I write these lines
She was married off at the tender age of thirteen or so to Subrahmanian Nambudiripad, aged forty plus, already having two wives, one living and the next one and her son still fresh in memory, and a daughter of mother’s age whom her brother married the same day, probably. Mother was dark, uncouth and short; my stepsister was fair, lean and very handsome whom mother hated heartily!
I do not remember any one caring for her except her younger sister and some cousins. Uncle (eldest) never talked to her or even to her children (in all six, two died early). She had a sharp tongue and was outspoken but had a heart of gold. She was very lazy and father was the laziest!
I digressed...
Around 150 years ago, mother’s ancestor was married to the sister of the king of erstwhile Cochin State who was known as Shaktan Thampuran. He bestowed on the Kunnathur family tax free land. The family became rich.
Maternal grandfather was very intelligent, so too was my uncle. At that time a rich local Nambudiri of Chittoor mana established a school, where we all studied, and uncle was the first student, duly initiated before a lighted lamp etc. Of course the student was without a shirt! I had a few classmates, topless, in primary school. Grandmother was wise, cultured and well versed in puranas (old legends of Hindu religion).When she got angry and shouted like a lioness, her husband shivered like a mouse! She did like my mother, always told me to look after her well but did nothing when she needed assistance. In fact no one accompanied her when she left the house built by father, and we were travelling in a country boat, through the swollen river. Being a fool, I enjoyed the trip!...
Earliest memories centre around a small village Thalore, near Trichur. I was about four. Mother had given birth to a dead baby and so she continued to feed me. I just came in from the spacious orchard where I was playing, lay down in my mother’s lap and started sucking her big breast. (In those days our women folk did not wear blouse.) “Ma, who put sugar in your milk?” -I asked. She just pushed me off and that was the end breastfeeding !
I had a playmate Bhagi about eight years or so .She was attached to our maidservant Madhavi .I always thought she was her daughter. One day the girl was mopping the kitchen floor. I said something. She didn’t listen and I gave a blow on her back with an iron ladle. The poor girl cried out aloud inviting the attention of mother and paternal grand mother I felt guilty and wretched. Perhaps that was the only time I used violence against any living creature.....
With just a piece of cloth tied like lady’s bikini I used to accompany Madhavi to the grocery shop owned by a Tamil Brahmin. He would give a piece of jaggery. We never got chocolates in those days.
Father and mother slept in the upstairs bedroom. I slept with them. Mother used to tell stories. Elder brother used to sleep with grandmother. He was her favourite. Paternal uncle Krishnaphan was an occasional visitor. We loved him, as he was a good storyteller. About Lilliputs we heard from him. He was dark and fat unlike another p. uncle Vasudevaphan who was slim and fair, the first person to go to school from K.K. family. He was teacher and a close friend of E.M.S. Namboodiripad.
One day an old lady came, covered up to the neck in pure white dhoti (in north India only a widow will dress in white) Do you know her? –they asked. When I blinked, they all laughed. I felt ashamed. It was mother’s ma. As a girl, she was born and brought up in the same house where we were staying temporarily-the great Veembur Kadalayil Mana (which was lying vacant at the time. Mahatma Gandhi visited the house in 1929). Father who was a good architect and astrologer was making our house near the river, about four miles away. One day brother and I accompanied him to see the construction work. My legs were paining like hell. I earned the reputation of having walked four miles when four years old.
When I was about four, another paternal uncle, Parameswaran by name, took me with him to fort Tripunithura where royal family member lived. By custom, only a nambudiri may marry a princess. And, in a nambudiri family only the eldest can marry; others may have legitimate relationship with women of other upper casts, the latter not entitled for a share of nambudiri property. They are not allowed to share meals with us. (My grandfather’s younger brother’s daughter was my schoolmate .I never knew about the blood relationship, though I somehow liked her. Of course I was too shy to talk to her! )
That is how uncle married a real princess and lived in Palace no.11. I was too small to notice the clean bed, the sumptuous food (at home we had it only on birthdays or during Onam) The great festival was going on at the Poornathrayeesha (Krishna) temple and there were any number of elephants (I wanted to become a mahout-I am never tired of watching these majestic animals)
An elephant was being fed. Uncle asked me-do you want to mount it. I shook my head. The mahout lifted me and handed over to his colleague sitting on the elephant. He placed me on its neck. I felt uncomfortable, its hair pricking my naked bottom and I being lifted up and down by the motion of its head while eating; still I enjoyed it (up to here at Thalore before Akavoor)
One day we were taken to Akavoormana near river Periyar. We enjoyed playing in the shallow swift flowing water. I lay down in the water and was carried away some distance. Flapping my arms I managed to remain floating. Thus I learnt the rudiments of swimming. I do not know how to swim really. Like cattle only my head remains above water.
There were two young elephants there. As a baby Ramankutty used to roam about in the house and snatch things from the kitchen. Even now I like to have a baby elephant ....
Vasudevan uncle (the youngest among five brothers, father being the eldest) was working as teacher in Namboori Vidyalaya at Trichur. I would look with admiration the fat books in his shelf. One day when I grow up I shall read them!
Savithri was born. I refused to see the baby. I wanted a brother. This dislike of girls remained for a long time to come.
When Vas uncle brought a wife I was too shy to meet her. Afterwards the words “cheriamme”automatically escaped from my mouth and all exclaimed “today it will rain”
Recently, during morning walk I reached the church and, turning right, easily located the arch, proclaiming entry towards the Shiv temple. I went through it and turned right. A little further, I had hardly turned left when I could easily spot the old gate as it was in 1937! It was something like a flashback in TV screen! The front yard was very small. (in my mind it was very big.) The main building was intact, though concretised. I saw mother’s bedroom upstairs where I slept. Through the left side I traced a few steps and saw the workplace where women husked rice. It was locked. I could easily see the rope swing and Bhagi and I playing there. The reddish brown cow must be somewhere nearby. Bhagi showed me how to pick silky smooth, egg shaped thing (she called it pattunni) from the cow’s skin. She would place it on a stone and crush it with another stone spilling blood. Ma must be in the kitchen. The great surprise was when I turned to the east courtyard and looked to the flight of steps leading to the orchard. I was expecting at least thirty steps. I could count hardly four! To the child everything appears on a mega screen. To the grown up, it is all on TV screen. The surroundings had been cut into plots and sold. There are flats now. But the main structure is unoccupied till now.
Originally, it belonged to Moothedath Kadalayil which was merged with Veembur Kadalayil. On shifting to Pazhai, the house was sold to Akavoor Mana, my paternal grand mother’s maiden house (illam). We were just living there. The Akavoor namboodiri even suggested, “sister, why don’t you live here, why build a new house?” But father wanted to be near our village.
Kottikal
Every spot in Kerala is a picnic spot. The locale selected by my father for building a house, after years of wandering from place to place, reveals his love of scenic beauty- or it may be just a combination of circumstances- for which generations of Vasudevan uncle should be grateful to him.
The plot is at the bend of the river, the bank is quite steep, the prospect from the summit can be described only by a poet. Vasu uncle constructed a bungalow there, with a terrace roof, something of a wonder at that time. From the terrace, we used to look at the mountains which acquire a bluish hue in rainy season. In summer, we all used to sleep there, looking at the diamonds scattered all over the sky. One Karkoli nambudiri taught us the names of a few of those wonderful stars, the milky way cutting across the starry sands. 1n the cities our children are denied the joy which I experienced sixty-five years ago.
The carpenters working there made a small canoe and presented it to my brother. I am a born waterfriend, perhaps a fish in my last life. Watching the bamboo rafts slowly gliding along the full river, the workers cooking rice at a corner and fishing, I longed to be one among them when I grew up. Sometimes it would be huge wooden craft fitted with thatched roof, something of a house boat. Only in novels I have read about people travelling in boats in the Ganga.
As soon as we shifted to our river side home, my thread ceremony was performed. I became a Brahman.
It was also the end of my early childhood. Every day I had to perform various rituals under strict supervision of my father who, one day, was so annoyed that he caught hold of my two hands, lifted me up as one would a bunch of bananas and smacked me till his rage abated or he became tired, I don’t know which, all because I broke the sacred thread while playing in the river water. I didn’t cry. But the agony is still fresh in my sensitive mind! My father commented-you are more difficult to manage than an elephant.
The people in neighbouring homes came to wash and bathe there because father made a bathing ghat in the river, duly paved with granite steps and we had always company for our water sports. I was not aware of the fact that the thread somehow disappeared. It is excusable in a six year old boy. We beat kids to vent our feelings. Are not the children creations of God? Who authorized us to punish them?
Normally my father is a very peaceful person. He is very slow and takes a lot of time to complete his morning rituals. He never uses the bath towel. Water will slowly evaporate. He was totally bald and had no teeth. In his betel chewing case there was a special crusher to pulverize the mixture of betal, arecanut, lime, tobacco and some erattimadhuram (meaning double sweet-a root). I don’t know what it is. We used to eat it
At bed time he would tell us to punch his feet with all our strength. My brother and I would handle each leg. It was fun
He would discuss many things with brother, including poetry in Samskritam which I could not follow. My brother imbibed interest in learning and he is a veritable encyclopaedia. He knows our family history and has Jotted down many things in a notebook. Nobody has seen it.
Kirangatu Mana
One day we went to attend a function in Kirangattu mana.I was in women’s wing. I looked out into the outside men’s wing and was overjoyed to see KRS (Ramaphan’s son Unniaphan)
He took me around and showed me a wonderful new world .There was even a temple inside the campus. At about 3 pm, I suppose, an old man came into the temple. He seated himself in a tigerskin. KRS sat before him and repeated whatever was recited by the old man. After some time he asked me-do you like to learn othu (Veda)? I promptly said yes. So he told me to sit by KRS’s side and I too repeated the lines from Veda. I remained at Kirangat mana with KRS for more than a year..
Traditionally, young namboodirs of kk family went to Kirangatu mana. They were our gurus. For Rigvedis there was the math at Trichur and one at Thirunnavaya. None for us Yajurvedis.
So it was not a surprise for our guru. No doubt, my eager face must have attracted his attention. At that time Anujan and Kunjanujan nambudiries were unmarried. There were no children there. Naturally we were pampered by all. There were many nambudiris, mostly with wives in palace at Tripunithura, who came there occasionally.
The tusks of Kesavan (elephant) evoked awe and admiration. Some iron chains reminded the glory of the famous animal whose beauty was only excelled by his cruelty (killed 16 or so mahouts). Only Pozhichur nambudiri who was just the store keeper and never failed to give something or other to Kesavan to eat, was allowed to hold his tusks. In the presence of this man, Kesavan became docile as a kid! I was never tired of hearing the stories of elephants.
There was a big country boat. The west side of the estate was a lake. I would longingly look at the Chenam island but never had the good fortune of a boat ride. There were separate bathing facilities for gents and ladies (as in all nambudiri families) and an extra temple tank. (today all are dry) A huge manchadi tree provided dazzling red beads for us to play with. Occasionally, Vasudevan of neighbouring Kannath mana would join us. I can go on writing about those times…
My mother was born in a very illustrious family Kunnathur Padinjaredath.You can see the ancestral house near the Peruvanam temple south gopuram (gate) I have vague memories of sitting upstairs; looking at the road. I must be four at that time.
The family came there in search of livelihood and became the tantry (main priest-they still are) of the temple. I can imagine mother (kali was her name-a goddess) walking towards the temple, holding the hands of the maidservant, almost naked, with only a plantain leaf strip to cover nakedness, not knowing what fate awaited her...tears swell in my eyes, even as I write these lines
She was married off at the tender age of thirteen or so to Subrahmanian Nambudiripad, aged forty plus, already having two wives, one living and the next one and her son still fresh in memory, and a daughter of mother’s age whom her brother married the same day, probably. Mother was dark, uncouth and short; my stepsister was fair, lean and very handsome whom mother hated heartily!
I do not remember any one caring for her except her younger sister and some cousins. Uncle (eldest) never talked to her or even to her children (in all six, two died early). She had a sharp tongue and was outspoken but had a heart of gold. She was very lazy and father was the laziest!
I digressed...
Around 150 years ago, mother’s ancestor was married to the sister of the king of erstwhile Cochin State who was known as Shaktan Thampuran. He bestowed on the Kunnathur family tax free land. The family became rich.
Maternal grandfather was very intelligent, so too was my uncle. At that time a rich local Nambudiri of Chittoor mana established a school, where we all studied, and uncle was the first student, duly initiated before a lighted lamp etc. Of course the student was without a shirt! I had a few classmates, topless, in primary school. Grandmother was wise, cultured and well versed in puranas (old legends of Hindu religion).When she got angry and shouted like a lioness, her husband shivered like a mouse! She did like my mother, always told me to look after her well but did nothing when she needed assistance. In fact no one accompanied her when she left the house built by father, and we were travelling in a country boat, through the swollen river. Being a fool, I enjoyed the trip!...
Earliest memories centre around a small village Thalore, near Trichur. I was about four. Mother had given birth to a dead baby and so she continued to feed me. I just came in from the spacious orchard where I was playing, lay down in my mother’s lap and started sucking her big breast. (In those days our women folk did not wear blouse.) “Ma, who put sugar in your milk?” -I asked. She just pushed me off and that was the end breastfeeding !
I had a playmate Bhagi about eight years or so .She was attached to our maidservant Madhavi .I always thought she was her daughter. One day the girl was mopping the kitchen floor. I said something. She didn’t listen and I gave a blow on her back with an iron ladle. The poor girl cried out aloud inviting the attention of mother and paternal grand mother I felt guilty and wretched. Perhaps that was the only time I used violence against any living creature.....
With just a piece of cloth tied like lady’s bikini I used to accompany Madhavi to the grocery shop owned by a Tamil Brahmin. He would give a piece of jaggery. We never got chocolates in those days.
Father and mother slept in the upstairs bedroom. I slept with them. Mother used to tell stories. Elder brother used to sleep with grandmother. He was her favourite. Paternal uncle Krishnaphan was an occasional visitor. We loved him, as he was a good storyteller. About Lilliputs we heard from him. He was dark and fat unlike another p. uncle Vasudevaphan who was slim and fair, the first person to go to school from K.K. family. He was teacher and a close friend of E.M.S. Namboodiripad.
One day an old lady came, covered up to the neck in pure white dhoti (in north India only a widow will dress in white) Do you know her? –they asked. When I blinked, they all laughed. I felt ashamed. It was mother’s ma. As a girl, she was born and brought up in the same house where we were staying temporarily-the great Veembur Kadalayil Mana (which was lying vacant at the time. Mahatma Gandhi visited the house in 1929). Father who was a good architect and astrologer was making our house near the river, about four miles away. One day brother and I accompanied him to see the construction work. My legs were paining like hell. I earned the reputation of having walked four miles when four years old.
When I was about four, another paternal uncle, Parameswaran by name, took me with him to fort Tripunithura where royal family member lived. By custom, only a nambudiri may marry a princess. And, in a nambudiri family only the eldest can marry; others may have legitimate relationship with women of other upper casts, the latter not entitled for a share of nambudiri property. They are not allowed to share meals with us. (My grandfather’s younger brother’s daughter was my schoolmate .I never knew about the blood relationship, though I somehow liked her. Of course I was too shy to talk to her! )
That is how uncle married a real princess and lived in Palace no.11. I was too small to notice the clean bed, the sumptuous food (at home we had it only on birthdays or during Onam) The great festival was going on at the Poornathrayeesha (Krishna) temple and there were any number of elephants (I wanted to become a mahout-I am never tired of watching these majestic animals)
An elephant was being fed. Uncle asked me-do you want to mount it. I shook my head. The mahout lifted me and handed over to his colleague sitting on the elephant. He placed me on its neck. I felt uncomfortable, its hair pricking my naked bottom and I being lifted up and down by the motion of its head while eating; still I enjoyed it (up to here at Thalore before Akavoor)
One day we were taken to Akavoormana near river Periyar. We enjoyed playing in the shallow swift flowing water. I lay down in the water and was carried away some distance. Flapping my arms I managed to remain floating. Thus I learnt the rudiments of swimming. I do not know how to swim really. Like cattle only my head remains above water.
There were two young elephants there. As a baby Ramankutty used to roam about in the house and snatch things from the kitchen. Even now I like to have a baby elephant ....
Vasudevan uncle (the youngest among five brothers, father being the eldest) was working as teacher in Namboori Vidyalaya at Trichur. I would look with admiration the fat books in his shelf. One day when I grow up I shall read them!
Savithri was born. I refused to see the baby. I wanted a brother. This dislike of girls remained for a long time to come.
When Vas uncle brought a wife I was too shy to meet her. Afterwards the words “cheriamme”automatically escaped from my mouth and all exclaimed “today it will rain”
Recently, during morning walk I reached the church and, turning right, easily located the arch, proclaiming entry towards the Shiv temple. I went through it and turned right. A little further, I had hardly turned left when I could easily spot the old gate as it was in 1937! It was something like a flashback in TV screen! The front yard was very small. (in my mind it was very big.) The main building was intact, though concretised. I saw mother’s bedroom upstairs where I slept. Through the left side I traced a few steps and saw the workplace where women husked rice. It was locked. I could easily see the rope swing and Bhagi and I playing there. The reddish brown cow must be somewhere nearby. Bhagi showed me how to pick silky smooth, egg shaped thing (she called it pattunni) from the cow’s skin. She would place it on a stone and crush it with another stone spilling blood. Ma must be in the kitchen. The great surprise was when I turned to the east courtyard and looked to the flight of steps leading to the orchard. I was expecting at least thirty steps. I could count hardly four! To the child everything appears on a mega screen. To the grown up, it is all on TV screen. The surroundings had been cut into plots and sold. There are flats now. But the main structure is unoccupied till now.
Originally, it belonged to Moothedath Kadalayil which was merged with Veembur Kadalayil. On shifting to Pazhai, the house was sold to Akavoor Mana, my paternal grand mother’s maiden house (illam). We were just living there. The Akavoor namboodiri even suggested, “sister, why don’t you live here, why build a new house?” But father wanted to be near our village.
Kottikal
Every spot in Kerala is a picnic spot. The locale selected by my father for building a house, after years of wandering from place to place, reveals his love of scenic beauty- or it may be just a combination of circumstances- for which generations of Vasudevan uncle should be grateful to him.
The plot is at the bend of the river, the bank is quite steep, the prospect from the summit can be described only by a poet. Vasu uncle constructed a bungalow there, with a terrace roof, something of a wonder at that time. From the terrace, we used to look at the mountains which acquire a bluish hue in rainy season. In summer, we all used to sleep there, looking at the diamonds scattered all over the sky. One Karkoli nambudiri taught us the names of a few of those wonderful stars, the milky way cutting across the starry sands. 1n the cities our children are denied the joy which I experienced sixty-five years ago.
The carpenters working there made a small canoe and presented it to my brother. I am a born waterfriend, perhaps a fish in my last life. Watching the bamboo rafts slowly gliding along the full river, the workers cooking rice at a corner and fishing, I longed to be one among them when I grew up. Sometimes it would be huge wooden craft fitted with thatched roof, something of a house boat. Only in novels I have read about people travelling in boats in the Ganga.
As soon as we shifted to our river side home, my thread ceremony was performed. I became a Brahman.
It was also the end of my early childhood. Every day I had to perform various rituals under strict supervision of my father who, one day, was so annoyed that he caught hold of my two hands, lifted me up as one would a bunch of bananas and smacked me till his rage abated or he became tired, I don’t know which, all because I broke the sacred thread while playing in the river water. I didn’t cry. But the agony is still fresh in my sensitive mind! My father commented-you are more difficult to manage than an elephant.
The people in neighbouring homes came to wash and bathe there because father made a bathing ghat in the river, duly paved with granite steps and we had always company for our water sports. I was not aware of the fact that the thread somehow disappeared. It is excusable in a six year old boy. We beat kids to vent our feelings. Are not the children creations of God? Who authorized us to punish them?
Normally my father is a very peaceful person. He is very slow and takes a lot of time to complete his morning rituals. He never uses the bath towel. Water will slowly evaporate. He was totally bald and had no teeth. In his betel chewing case there was a special crusher to pulverize the mixture of betal, arecanut, lime, tobacco and some erattimadhuram (meaning double sweet-a root). I don’t know what it is. We used to eat it
At bed time he would tell us to punch his feet with all our strength. My brother and I would handle each leg. It was fun
He would discuss many things with brother, including poetry in Samskritam which I could not follow. My brother imbibed interest in learning and he is a veritable encyclopaedia. He knows our family history and has Jotted down many things in a notebook. Nobody has seen it.
Kirangatu Mana
One day we went to attend a function in Kirangattu mana.I was in women’s wing. I looked out into the outside men’s wing and was overjoyed to see KRS (Ramaphan’s son Unniaphan)
He took me around and showed me a wonderful new world .There was even a temple inside the campus. At about 3 pm, I suppose, an old man came into the temple. He seated himself in a tigerskin. KRS sat before him and repeated whatever was recited by the old man. After some time he asked me-do you like to learn othu (Veda)? I promptly said yes. So he told me to sit by KRS’s side and I too repeated the lines from Veda. I remained at Kirangat mana with KRS for more than a year..
Traditionally, young namboodirs of kk family went to Kirangatu mana. They were our gurus. For Rigvedis there was the math at Trichur and one at Thirunnavaya. None for us Yajurvedis.
So it was not a surprise for our guru. No doubt, my eager face must have attracted his attention. At that time Anujan and Kunjanujan nambudiries were unmarried. There were no children there. Naturally we were pampered by all. There were many nambudiris, mostly with wives in palace at Tripunithura, who came there occasionally.
The tusks of Kesavan (elephant) evoked awe and admiration. Some iron chains reminded the glory of the famous animal whose beauty was only excelled by his cruelty (killed 16 or so mahouts). Only Pozhichur nambudiri who was just the store keeper and never failed to give something or other to Kesavan to eat, was allowed to hold his tusks. In the presence of this man, Kesavan became docile as a kid! I was never tired of hearing the stories of elephants.
There was a big country boat. The west side of the estate was a lake. I would longingly look at the Chenam island but never had the good fortune of a boat ride. There were separate bathing facilities for gents and ladies (as in all nambudiri families) and an extra temple tank. (today all are dry) A huge manchadi tree provided dazzling red beads for us to play with. Occasionally, Vasudevan of neighbouring Kannath mana would join us. I can go on writing about those times…
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