Birth of KPC
I have to fill up some gap in the narrative.
About two centuries ago, a girl in my kk family fell in love with a boy in Kunnathur mana (Padinjaredath, after the split into Kizhakedath and Padinjaredath). As he was a younger brother, he should not have married from his own caste; but the lovers managed to marry.
In due course, a bonny boy was born to the couple who lived in-cognito. The boy was regularly brought to the Peruvanam temple for Darshan of Eratteppan (it was recently that I knew about it. Eratta = double; there is a big lingam and a small one, side by side). The smart boy invited the attention of Ittivasu-aphan (Brother-in-law of Shaktanthampuran) who was meditating in the mandapam. On being asked-which is your family?-the boy said –Padinjaredath which surprised the aphan - a boy in my family unknown to me?
When matters were clarified, he persuaded the elder brother to bring the young family and both lived happily ……till fate ordered almost a violent implosion. My uncle (eldest) and father of the present kpc generaion hated each other, like Duryodhana and Bhima. My brother may know all about it. A separate kitchen was set up. Maternal grandmother who knew Mahabharat so well failed to intervene. Her opposite number was a simple village girl. After protracted cold war, it was decided to partition the property. Neither party had enough money to pay compensation. So they approached Raja of Travancore who purchased the house .Now some social activities are going on there.
Uncle moved to Kuttapuzha which is very fresh in my memory, as construction of the new house at Naruvakulangara was going on under the supervision of my father. There were a number of wooden vessels used to store sambar etc during feast and we used to play in them as boats! From Kuttapuzha house we would climb the broken corner wall of the temple and collect marod- a long flat piece of baked earth used as tile-rendered waste after the temple was renovated with manglore tiles. We would make multi storey structures with marod. Krishnammaman, of my age, was my playmate. Ma’s father married a second time to dispose of my ma’s elder sister (here was a tragedy before which ma’s fate pales into insignificance; at least, ma enjoyed brief spells of affluence and happiness) Krishnammaman was son to the second wife.
One day there was a commotion. My stepsister was running towards the fence. Maheswaran’n elder brother, who was later to be closely associated to me, was trying to come down from a bamboo tree. A thorn had pierced his eye. They took him to Nambisan’s clinic at Trichur, but could not save the eye.
School
My guru died, followed by several of his brothers, on account of some epidemic, I think. Vedic education came to an end. I wanted to go to school inspired by the fact, perhaps, that all my cousins in ma’s house went to school.
Somehow, I had a half shirt and half trouser. I changed into this new dress and approached uncle Vasudev who was working at high school at Cherpu. He was reading something at his bungalow at kottical. When he heard me, he quietly gave me a four anna coin (25 paise) and dismissed me. I went straight to ma’s house at Naruvakulangara and requested the one-eyed Aniettan (Neelakanthan) to help me. Next day at 9am we started for the high school where he was studying. In front of the Karayogam School, he asked me to wait and proceeded further. At 10 the bell rang. I panicked and followed the children who went into the first standard. I sat with them on a bench. There were no desks. Ramankutty master (there male teachers were called so) must have been surprised. He did not say anything. I immensely liked the new atmosphere. The masterji drew a fine pumpkin on the blackboard which looked like a real one.
At lunch break, he gave me a form and told me to get it filled by elders. I do not remember who signed it. Perhaps my second uncle. I dutifully handed over the form to masterji.
That was the happiest day in my life! Goddess Saraswati must have been very pleased. My parents or anybody in my family, probably, did not know about it until I returned on Friday evening.
Pidikaparambu
After partition of property between Vasudevaphan and our family, when we came away, we became refugees in our own village. Who would take responsibility of a young widow and her four children without any wherewithal? We were housed in an old uninhabited cottage. A faithful maidservant remained with mother even in her woes. Across the fields my brother and I would run to join our cousins who are children of Ramaphan who happened to be p.great grandfather’s youngest son. Recently I happened to see the latter’s cousin, something like a character from history. I did not know that such a person ever lived. This is a peculiar nature. I never cared to know anything about anyone. Now I want to have a record of each member of our clan. Living ones are more than sixty in number.
Ramaphan’s sons Unni is only slightly elder to me At that time we were about thirteen. Next comes Vasudevan and Raman. Their orchard is very large and has a big pond and two or three wells. In the night we all used to sleep together.
At the Shiva temple Othootu was going on. Yajurveda would be recited every day for forty one days continuously, from morning till midnight with lunch break of an hour or so.
Morning breakfast at 8, lunch at 1 p.m, evening light food at 6 and dinner at midnight. There were oil and vaka (powdered bark of a tree) and crushed leaves of hedge for shampoo (what a healthy life style !) at the temple tank for our use (only for Nambudiris) Our bath may take a long time, massaging, talking and swimming..... Practically we children enjoyed the time.
Poor ma once woke up in the night and saw something hanging from the roof .The only light was from a small bottle lamp (filled with kerosene and fitted with a perforated lid through which a wick is inserted) She woke up the maid .It was a Snake, probably poisonless (Rat snake) chera, but remember that father died of snakebite !All through the night, they kept vigil lest it may harm the sleeping girls…
Thiruvallakavu temple, now famous for initiating kids into the world of letters, is only two miles from our house. People offer appam (rice powder and jaggery mixed and made into balls which are then fried in pure cows’ ghee) We walk the distance, circumventing the hill, with hardly any dwelling in that are (now there is bus service, tarred road, plenty of terrace buildings and Santa Maria School) and stray dogs with menacing looks, reach the main Trichur-Kodungallor road. At 3 pm is the pooja. The appetizing fragrance of ghee diverts our attention while praying for sadbudhi (wisdom). We may eat the appam then and there.
One day a stranger appeared, wearing khaki trousers and half-sleeved shirt. He smiled at us and started talking as if he knew us. He was hefty and well built and had leadership qualities. He organized local farmers to form a Kisan Sabha. We were easily entangled into a Balasangham. He became a hero-comrade M.N., later; a warrier also became an activist.
Our Cochin state was an independent entity, ruled by a king, area comprising of the land south of Bharatapuzha and Travancore state in the South, beyond Ernakulum district. There was demand for peoples’ representation in the administration and people were becoming politically conscious. A private road leading to a temple was closed to lower castes. They were agitating for the right to use the road .Police mercilessly beat them up. M.N. was among them. We saw him coming with several injuries. Our tender heart melted, we gave the appams we were carrying, to comrade.
At that time I took Savithri, my sister to Vallachira School and enrolled her there. I do not remember any of our relatives visiting us. Not even maternal grandmother!
Avanavil mana had three elephants. The youngest Ramachandran became out of control and refused to come out of the temple tank. We all went to see the fun. It was spectacle worth watching. The animal was swimming and diving, sometimes only the four feet visible above water, moving from corner to corner within seconds, muddying the water, putting the mahouts to an ordeal. They taught him a lesson after he was ultimately enticed with a bunch of plantains, beating him right and left. The poor creature was simply enjoying a dip in water. He was a waterfriend. I almost wept. Why do we not allow these forest animals their freedom?
Pazhai
Ultimately Veembur kadalayil mana adopted us and we moved to a cottage adjoining their’s, purchased from a nair family, marking the beginning a lifelong relationship with V.B.S, my guide and mentor until I left Kerala for good.
The lady in white, my maternal grandma ,belonged to this house which was earlier located at Thalore Pazhai(gone waste) The very name is a thrill. In the village library, I got my first novel
(Translation of The Wreck by Tagore), I devoured every word, like a thirsty man drinking dew drops. I was disappointed when Kamala returned to her lawful husband whom she had never seen! The love between her and Romesh, the hero, was pure and devoid of selfishness. Alas, such love wilts under the heat of married life!
There was an ashram of Vivekananda Mission, near the river (now under RSS). The plot was donated by maternal grandma’s uncle. The library had children’s English books which I greedily read, though half the words were unknown to me. VBS’s cousins and their children, my maternal uncles and occasionally, politicians used to frequent the VK house and, in short, a certain intellectual air prevailed there, very stimulating and invigorating. There, I learned the basics of Marxism. Gorky’s books were a favourite. Ralph Fox, Steinbeck, Howard Fast etc. were too familiar, even though, Trotsky’s autobiography was read only recently in Dyal Singh library (he was unjustly maligned by Stalinists. He was a genius of the rank of Lenin, M.N. Roy, Mao etc)
Veembur Mana
To return to our narrative..
Maternal grandmother (lady in white) had three brothers. Marriage of the eldest brother was fixed; he was to marry the sister of my maternal grandfather. Before marriage he died. Undeterred by this tragedy, the elders decided that the next in line marry her. God’s ways are strange. The would-be bridegroom too died. The elders were unmoved. The third son, Bhavadasan married my mother’s aunt. VBS is her grandson, Bhavadasan being elder and Krishan only one year elder to me, being the third. Like the brothers Karamazovs, the threesome are dissimilar to each other.
Being closely related, they took care of our monetary needs like school fees; from a loan interest we got our monthly budget of Rs.10. The compound surrounding the mud hut was full of areca nut trees. The fallen leaves were collected by ma and used as fuel. She would carry water from the faraway well (normally the well is attached to the kitchen and we draw water from the well, standing inside the kitchen). I have nonchalantly watched it ,but never offered help. Now I see my wife working in the kitchen and her daughter watching TV. Is this a rule of nature?
We got a meagre quantity of rice from tenants. I would go to the farmers, enjoying the scenery en route, collect rice and bring it home in a country canoe. My elder brother being unconcerned, I became the father figure at the age of thirteen.
One day uncle (VBS’s father) told me we were entitled for ration card being below poverty line; as instructed, I went to the Tehsildar office some ten miles way, handed over the application, waited patiently till 4.50 pm, when, pitying my innocence and helplessness, the peon told the clerk to do the needful and I returned with the ration card!
Naraphan-short for Narayanaphan.
I don’t remember him. He was VBS’s grandfathr’s son by his second wife who was half mad. The whole property of Veembur Kadalayil became a matter of litigation with a Tamil Brahmin from whom heavy sums were borrowed for construction of the tile factory, the first in our area,which still stands near level crossing at Ollur railway station, and, for maintaining luxurious living (every time mgm came home, she was given a gold sovereign-one pound coin). At one stage, the vakil of the opponent secretly visited our ancestor and advised him to deny in the court that he borrowed money; a Nambudiri’s word was taken as true even by a court in those days. A Nambudiri may never lie. True to tradition, the honest ancestor refused to lie and the whole property came into Tamil Brahmin’s hands.
Litigation continued. As he was educated, Naraphan shouldered the responsibility. By 6am train, he would leave for Ernakulam where the High court is located. We can only guess the number of times the poor fellow travelled to Ernakulam, sometimes without pocket money, in the hope of ultimate success!
At long last, the gods smiled-he won the case but lost his life. To celebrate the victory, he ate sumptuously at a motel. It was cholera epidemic time. As soon as he returned home, he started vomiting. He died, his mad mother died and even VBS’s sister Gauri died……Triumph of Death over Life…
I have vague memories of attending pindam ceremony. (Why don’t we leave the dead alone?) VBS’s father worked hard to keep the family going. He even worked as poojari at Psharikal temple where tradition forbade us Kadalayil family members to do pooja.
And yet he was always cheerful and full of humour and wit. VBS was studying in college. His elder brother was in army (he was discharged for being sympathetic to the left-Britain ruled by proxy) and Krishnettan was in Ooty (as cashier in some restaurant-he became fair as a white man when he returned) Uncle and I were together. One day he was so upset that he told me “your mother is mad”.
I had learned to stoically suffer almost anything in this life. I must have looked like an idiot which I actually am.
Warrium brothers
As the only upper caste family in the locality, with a number of brothers studying in various standards, we were bound to have close contact with them, especially when the house happens to be very near the bathing place in the river (Ambalakkadavu) where we go daily as there are no bath rooms in village houses. The youngest brother was older than me by just one year. His name is Iswara warriar. I met him after a gap of fifty years. We were overjoyed and went on talking until it became dark, when we reluctantly departed, promising to meet again.
One evening we met once again. I still remember his face, his gaze following me as I walked away from him……
That was to be a final good bye….He passed away….in a month or so….
Karayogam School
But for the death of my father, my school days, up to standard 6 were smooth and happy.
There were plenty of cousins as friends at ammath at Naruvakulangara. Climbing the mango tree was a favourite pastime. After reaching the top, I felt nervous, but refused to show it. Slowly, when I came down, I felt a relief which I still recall !
Once I climbed up a small areca nut tree near a pond in front of the open portico, where grandfather used to sit in his easy chair, which is seldom seen these days, with a fan in hand.
When I reached the half way mark, the tree started swinging widely and wildly. I clutched it firmly and in a few seconds it became steady. Grandfather, who was watching me, became angry and began scolding me. Somehow, I came down and was still shaking with fear.
There were half a dozen children for meals. We will be coming from the ground where we were playing. Grandmother would place a pan full of water and ask us to wash our hands one by one. By the time we all wash hands, the water would turn muddy.
“See”, she would say. We would all sit on the cement floor, in front of plantain leaves and eat with our hands.
The Karayogam School has two sections, one Malayalam and the other Samskrutham. The head master of the latter, one Elayath, quite elderly with bald head and slight body, would remove his shirt and spread it over a plant to dry the sweat. He was a great scholar and very gentle in nature. His assistant was exactly the opposite. He used to beat his pupils till blood came out. There were only a few students, all in their teens, in Samskrutham division, because of this man named Damodaran Nambiar.
The Head Master of our school was Ramayyar, who was always busy making pay bills for the whole school staff. His daughter, a bright eyed, curly haired beauty was always looking at me which made me uncomfortable. I hated her for this simple reason.
Once she came in my dream, recently. We went on talking and felt a joy I never knew before.
The feeling of loss, on waking up was great.
As we had no English as a subject in primary school, we had to study one year in a Preparatory class, when I joined the CNN High School, Cherpu.
With the Transfer Certificate, I approached my uncle Vasudevaphan who was working there.
What I am I to do? He quipped.
MS (Mamunnil Subrahmanian Namboodiripad) master, who was standing by his side, answered, on my behalf: you do the arrangement for his admission.
So I found myself learning the English alphabet. I felt elated.
The next year, both KKN and myself studied in the same 6th standard, under Chulliparambil Sankunni Nair.
That vacation, my ammath shifted to Amballoor and so I shifted to Secondary School at Vendore at a walkable distance from ammath.
Mary teacher was our teacher. One Bahuleyan, Vasudevan and a face I knew but cannot recollect the name, were bench mates.
In the front row were girls, one with a small “bag” behind her ear was painful to look at. I have an inborn antipathy towards all types of abnormalities.
Devaky my class mate, started living at ammath. She was a namboodiri and helped in kitchen work . I did not like it, because Parameswaran the “manager” said she is a good match for me.
It was during this period that P—– took me to see the festival at Thrikur temple.
Once I failed to give fees and was thrown out of the class. I could have asked my people at ammath for money; some false sense of pride (can beggars be proud?) prevented me from approaching them. I went home to Pazhayil. I think Bhavadasettan gave me the money.
One day, football match was going on. Devassy the HM who was the referee calle me and gave me the whistle. I could not tell a football from a volley ball. All were crowdig round the ball and shouting. Some one told me to blow the whistle which I did, with all my power. Mercyfully everything became calm. The HM returned.
For anniversary, I was asked to do some speaking. “ELOCUTION” it was called. My cousin, Neil gave me a passage from Nehru’s speech. When I stood before the audience, words were stuck up in my mouth. Any way, it was all noisy; even if I spoke, they could not have heard anything. I got a pen as present. It did not work.
After the examinations, I obtained a transfer certificate and went to St. Antony’s High School, Pudukad. I failed to get admission. Had they known that I stood first in the scholarship exam. they would not have refused me; who would tell the HM?
Had I got admission there, it woud have saved me from all the sufferings, during the subsequent year.
DEATH OF MY FATHER
I was about eight years old.We were sitting in the portico of mother’s house , we say ammath, at Naruvakulangara, when a lizard fell on my head. Pozhichoor namboodiri, who was a frequent visitor at that time, recited a stanza in verse, which meant that if a lizard falls on the head, it is a bad omen, indicating the death of a guru or a parent.
Afterwards, my guru, who taught me Vedas for about an year, died.
Again, after the marriage of my youngest maternal uncle named Guptan, when we were still staying at ammath, it happened.
We children were having our supper in the hall at the usual time, about seven in the evening. Grandmother used to place a bowl, full of water, and ask us children to wash our hands in it. After some have washed, the water would turn muddy and I would feel revulsion to wash in it, but dared not express my thought. Then we would sit on the floor in two rows, leaving a gap for the women folk to walk and serve the dishes, consisting of rice, dhal, always mixed with vegetables like ash gourd (my favourite) or pumpkin or papaya, not yet sweet, or jack fruit if it is the season. Now we use brinjal, bitter gourd or onions, the small variety found in Keralam, if it is sambar in which spices like dhanya and methi are mixed in powder form. A second waterless dish is always there, along with achar; papad a rarety in those days. I wished that my mother be there to serve, in preference to some poor lady guest who invariably was present and would gladly serve us.
Suddenly there was a commotion and I saw my step sister, father’s first issue, running out into the porch. We children also went to see what happened.
I saw my father sitting on the steps and placing a small bronze vessel containing lime, used for making pan, on his left foot. I learned that he was bitten by a snake and was testing to see whether poison had entered in the wound.
I remember following my brother, who remained silent throughout the journey, to our kottikal home, the very next morning. When we reached the out house, which we used to call the bungalow, as it was constructed as a modern terrace house, I think the first in our area, I saw the body of our father lying on the floor of the veranda, up to the neck covered by a white sheet. None was present there. Without pausing, still silent, we went to the main house. I remember grandmother in tears murmuring- it is all over……..
Afterwards I pieced together the events.
The gents had gone to take bath in the big temple pond near Shiva temple at Peruvanam. While returning, father was at the end of the procession, behind uncle Bhavadasan , VBS’S father, who was carrying a kerosene lantern. Father saw the snake, a viper actually biting, but said nothing until they reached ammath. His brothers were informed by a special messenger who was sent to our home, a distance about two miles. By the time they came, some one hour must have already passed. THEREAFTER, HE WAS CARRIED TO THE AYURVEDIC HOSPITAL IN A BULLOCK CART. It might have taken forty five minutes at least. Next morning, they were preparing to leave the hospital when father felt dizzy and lay down.
I think he had a premonition and was perhaps happy to leave this world, and really lucky indeed, as things were simmering for a long time at home, he having squandered all the money in luxurious life, a trait I inherited from him which I don’t regret as Harindranathan, my cousin, used to say-” What we eat, we have wisely used money on it. All else is infructuous.”
I have to fill up some gap in the narrative.
About two centuries ago, a girl in my kk family fell in love with a boy in Kunnathur mana (Padinjaredath, after the split into Kizhakedath and Padinjaredath). As he was a younger brother, he should not have married from his own caste; but the lovers managed to marry.
In due course, a bonny boy was born to the couple who lived in-cognito. The boy was regularly brought to the Peruvanam temple for Darshan of Eratteppan (it was recently that I knew about it. Eratta = double; there is a big lingam and a small one, side by side). The smart boy invited the attention of Ittivasu-aphan (Brother-in-law of Shaktanthampuran) who was meditating in the mandapam. On being asked-which is your family?-the boy said –Padinjaredath which surprised the aphan - a boy in my family unknown to me?
When matters were clarified, he persuaded the elder brother to bring the young family and both lived happily ……till fate ordered almost a violent implosion. My uncle (eldest) and father of the present kpc generaion hated each other, like Duryodhana and Bhima. My brother may know all about it. A separate kitchen was set up. Maternal grandmother who knew Mahabharat so well failed to intervene. Her opposite number was a simple village girl. After protracted cold war, it was decided to partition the property. Neither party had enough money to pay compensation. So they approached Raja of Travancore who purchased the house .Now some social activities are going on there.
Uncle moved to Kuttapuzha which is very fresh in my memory, as construction of the new house at Naruvakulangara was going on under the supervision of my father. There were a number of wooden vessels used to store sambar etc during feast and we used to play in them as boats! From Kuttapuzha house we would climb the broken corner wall of the temple and collect marod- a long flat piece of baked earth used as tile-rendered waste after the temple was renovated with manglore tiles. We would make multi storey structures with marod. Krishnammaman, of my age, was my playmate. Ma’s father married a second time to dispose of my ma’s elder sister (here was a tragedy before which ma’s fate pales into insignificance; at least, ma enjoyed brief spells of affluence and happiness) Krishnammaman was son to the second wife.
One day there was a commotion. My stepsister was running towards the fence. Maheswaran’n elder brother, who was later to be closely associated to me, was trying to come down from a bamboo tree. A thorn had pierced his eye. They took him to Nambisan’s clinic at Trichur, but could not save the eye.
School
My guru died, followed by several of his brothers, on account of some epidemic, I think. Vedic education came to an end. I wanted to go to school inspired by the fact, perhaps, that all my cousins in ma’s house went to school.
Somehow, I had a half shirt and half trouser. I changed into this new dress and approached uncle Vasudev who was working at high school at Cherpu. He was reading something at his bungalow at kottical. When he heard me, he quietly gave me a four anna coin (25 paise) and dismissed me. I went straight to ma’s house at Naruvakulangara and requested the one-eyed Aniettan (Neelakanthan) to help me. Next day at 9am we started for the high school where he was studying. In front of the Karayogam School, he asked me to wait and proceeded further. At 10 the bell rang. I panicked and followed the children who went into the first standard. I sat with them on a bench. There were no desks. Ramankutty master (there male teachers were called so) must have been surprised. He did not say anything. I immensely liked the new atmosphere. The masterji drew a fine pumpkin on the blackboard which looked like a real one.
At lunch break, he gave me a form and told me to get it filled by elders. I do not remember who signed it. Perhaps my second uncle. I dutifully handed over the form to masterji.
That was the happiest day in my life! Goddess Saraswati must have been very pleased. My parents or anybody in my family, probably, did not know about it until I returned on Friday evening.
Pidikaparambu
After partition of property between Vasudevaphan and our family, when we came away, we became refugees in our own village. Who would take responsibility of a young widow and her four children without any wherewithal? We were housed in an old uninhabited cottage. A faithful maidservant remained with mother even in her woes. Across the fields my brother and I would run to join our cousins who are children of Ramaphan who happened to be p.great grandfather’s youngest son. Recently I happened to see the latter’s cousin, something like a character from history. I did not know that such a person ever lived. This is a peculiar nature. I never cared to know anything about anyone. Now I want to have a record of each member of our clan. Living ones are more than sixty in number.
Ramaphan’s sons Unni is only slightly elder to me At that time we were about thirteen. Next comes Vasudevan and Raman. Their orchard is very large and has a big pond and two or three wells. In the night we all used to sleep together.
At the Shiva temple Othootu was going on. Yajurveda would be recited every day for forty one days continuously, from morning till midnight with lunch break of an hour or so.
Morning breakfast at 8, lunch at 1 p.m, evening light food at 6 and dinner at midnight. There were oil and vaka (powdered bark of a tree) and crushed leaves of hedge for shampoo (what a healthy life style !) at the temple tank for our use (only for Nambudiris) Our bath may take a long time, massaging, talking and swimming..... Practically we children enjoyed the time.
Poor ma once woke up in the night and saw something hanging from the roof .The only light was from a small bottle lamp (filled with kerosene and fitted with a perforated lid through which a wick is inserted) She woke up the maid .It was a Snake, probably poisonless (Rat snake) chera, but remember that father died of snakebite !All through the night, they kept vigil lest it may harm the sleeping girls…
Thiruvallakavu temple, now famous for initiating kids into the world of letters, is only two miles from our house. People offer appam (rice powder and jaggery mixed and made into balls which are then fried in pure cows’ ghee) We walk the distance, circumventing the hill, with hardly any dwelling in that are (now there is bus service, tarred road, plenty of terrace buildings and Santa Maria School) and stray dogs with menacing looks, reach the main Trichur-Kodungallor road. At 3 pm is the pooja. The appetizing fragrance of ghee diverts our attention while praying for sadbudhi (wisdom). We may eat the appam then and there.
One day a stranger appeared, wearing khaki trousers and half-sleeved shirt. He smiled at us and started talking as if he knew us. He was hefty and well built and had leadership qualities. He organized local farmers to form a Kisan Sabha. We were easily entangled into a Balasangham. He became a hero-comrade M.N., later; a warrier also became an activist.
Our Cochin state was an independent entity, ruled by a king, area comprising of the land south of Bharatapuzha and Travancore state in the South, beyond Ernakulum district. There was demand for peoples’ representation in the administration and people were becoming politically conscious. A private road leading to a temple was closed to lower castes. They were agitating for the right to use the road .Police mercilessly beat them up. M.N. was among them. We saw him coming with several injuries. Our tender heart melted, we gave the appams we were carrying, to comrade.
At that time I took Savithri, my sister to Vallachira School and enrolled her there. I do not remember any of our relatives visiting us. Not even maternal grandmother!
Avanavil mana had three elephants. The youngest Ramachandran became out of control and refused to come out of the temple tank. We all went to see the fun. It was spectacle worth watching. The animal was swimming and diving, sometimes only the four feet visible above water, moving from corner to corner within seconds, muddying the water, putting the mahouts to an ordeal. They taught him a lesson after he was ultimately enticed with a bunch of plantains, beating him right and left. The poor creature was simply enjoying a dip in water. He was a waterfriend. I almost wept. Why do we not allow these forest animals their freedom?
Pazhai
Ultimately Veembur kadalayil mana adopted us and we moved to a cottage adjoining their’s, purchased from a nair family, marking the beginning a lifelong relationship with V.B.S, my guide and mentor until I left Kerala for good.
The lady in white, my maternal grandma ,belonged to this house which was earlier located at Thalore Pazhai(gone waste) The very name is a thrill. In the village library, I got my first novel
(Translation of The Wreck by Tagore), I devoured every word, like a thirsty man drinking dew drops. I was disappointed when Kamala returned to her lawful husband whom she had never seen! The love between her and Romesh, the hero, was pure and devoid of selfishness. Alas, such love wilts under the heat of married life!
There was an ashram of Vivekananda Mission, near the river (now under RSS). The plot was donated by maternal grandma’s uncle. The library had children’s English books which I greedily read, though half the words were unknown to me. VBS’s cousins and their children, my maternal uncles and occasionally, politicians used to frequent the VK house and, in short, a certain intellectual air prevailed there, very stimulating and invigorating. There, I learned the basics of Marxism. Gorky’s books were a favourite. Ralph Fox, Steinbeck, Howard Fast etc. were too familiar, even though, Trotsky’s autobiography was read only recently in Dyal Singh library (he was unjustly maligned by Stalinists. He was a genius of the rank of Lenin, M.N. Roy, Mao etc)
Veembur Mana
To return to our narrative..
Maternal grandmother (lady in white) had three brothers. Marriage of the eldest brother was fixed; he was to marry the sister of my maternal grandfather. Before marriage he died. Undeterred by this tragedy, the elders decided that the next in line marry her. God’s ways are strange. The would-be bridegroom too died. The elders were unmoved. The third son, Bhavadasan married my mother’s aunt. VBS is her grandson, Bhavadasan being elder and Krishan only one year elder to me, being the third. Like the brothers Karamazovs, the threesome are dissimilar to each other.
Being closely related, they took care of our monetary needs like school fees; from a loan interest we got our monthly budget of Rs.10. The compound surrounding the mud hut was full of areca nut trees. The fallen leaves were collected by ma and used as fuel. She would carry water from the faraway well (normally the well is attached to the kitchen and we draw water from the well, standing inside the kitchen). I have nonchalantly watched it ,but never offered help. Now I see my wife working in the kitchen and her daughter watching TV. Is this a rule of nature?
We got a meagre quantity of rice from tenants. I would go to the farmers, enjoying the scenery en route, collect rice and bring it home in a country canoe. My elder brother being unconcerned, I became the father figure at the age of thirteen.
One day uncle (VBS’s father) told me we were entitled for ration card being below poverty line; as instructed, I went to the Tehsildar office some ten miles way, handed over the application, waited patiently till 4.50 pm, when, pitying my innocence and helplessness, the peon told the clerk to do the needful and I returned with the ration card!
Naraphan-short for Narayanaphan.
I don’t remember him. He was VBS’s grandfathr’s son by his second wife who was half mad. The whole property of Veembur Kadalayil became a matter of litigation with a Tamil Brahmin from whom heavy sums were borrowed for construction of the tile factory, the first in our area,which still stands near level crossing at Ollur railway station, and, for maintaining luxurious living (every time mgm came home, she was given a gold sovereign-one pound coin). At one stage, the vakil of the opponent secretly visited our ancestor and advised him to deny in the court that he borrowed money; a Nambudiri’s word was taken as true even by a court in those days. A Nambudiri may never lie. True to tradition, the honest ancestor refused to lie and the whole property came into Tamil Brahmin’s hands.
Litigation continued. As he was educated, Naraphan shouldered the responsibility. By 6am train, he would leave for Ernakulam where the High court is located. We can only guess the number of times the poor fellow travelled to Ernakulam, sometimes without pocket money, in the hope of ultimate success!
At long last, the gods smiled-he won the case but lost his life. To celebrate the victory, he ate sumptuously at a motel. It was cholera epidemic time. As soon as he returned home, he started vomiting. He died, his mad mother died and even VBS’s sister Gauri died……Triumph of Death over Life…
I have vague memories of attending pindam ceremony. (Why don’t we leave the dead alone?) VBS’s father worked hard to keep the family going. He even worked as poojari at Psharikal temple where tradition forbade us Kadalayil family members to do pooja.
And yet he was always cheerful and full of humour and wit. VBS was studying in college. His elder brother was in army (he was discharged for being sympathetic to the left-Britain ruled by proxy) and Krishnettan was in Ooty (as cashier in some restaurant-he became fair as a white man when he returned) Uncle and I were together. One day he was so upset that he told me “your mother is mad”.
I had learned to stoically suffer almost anything in this life. I must have looked like an idiot which I actually am.
Warrium brothers
As the only upper caste family in the locality, with a number of brothers studying in various standards, we were bound to have close contact with them, especially when the house happens to be very near the bathing place in the river (Ambalakkadavu) where we go daily as there are no bath rooms in village houses. The youngest brother was older than me by just one year. His name is Iswara warriar. I met him after a gap of fifty years. We were overjoyed and went on talking until it became dark, when we reluctantly departed, promising to meet again.
One evening we met once again. I still remember his face, his gaze following me as I walked away from him……
That was to be a final good bye….He passed away….in a month or so….
Karayogam School
But for the death of my father, my school days, up to standard 6 were smooth and happy.
There were plenty of cousins as friends at ammath at Naruvakulangara. Climbing the mango tree was a favourite pastime. After reaching the top, I felt nervous, but refused to show it. Slowly, when I came down, I felt a relief which I still recall !
Once I climbed up a small areca nut tree near a pond in front of the open portico, where grandfather used to sit in his easy chair, which is seldom seen these days, with a fan in hand.
When I reached the half way mark, the tree started swinging widely and wildly. I clutched it firmly and in a few seconds it became steady. Grandfather, who was watching me, became angry and began scolding me. Somehow, I came down and was still shaking with fear.
There were half a dozen children for meals. We will be coming from the ground where we were playing. Grandmother would place a pan full of water and ask us to wash our hands one by one. By the time we all wash hands, the water would turn muddy.
“See”, she would say. We would all sit on the cement floor, in front of plantain leaves and eat with our hands.
The Karayogam School has two sections, one Malayalam and the other Samskrutham. The head master of the latter, one Elayath, quite elderly with bald head and slight body, would remove his shirt and spread it over a plant to dry the sweat. He was a great scholar and very gentle in nature. His assistant was exactly the opposite. He used to beat his pupils till blood came out. There were only a few students, all in their teens, in Samskrutham division, because of this man named Damodaran Nambiar.
The Head Master of our school was Ramayyar, who was always busy making pay bills for the whole school staff. His daughter, a bright eyed, curly haired beauty was always looking at me which made me uncomfortable. I hated her for this simple reason.
Once she came in my dream, recently. We went on talking and felt a joy I never knew before.
The feeling of loss, on waking up was great.
As we had no English as a subject in primary school, we had to study one year in a Preparatory class, when I joined the CNN High School, Cherpu.
With the Transfer Certificate, I approached my uncle Vasudevaphan who was working there.
What I am I to do? He quipped.
MS (Mamunnil Subrahmanian Namboodiripad) master, who was standing by his side, answered, on my behalf: you do the arrangement for his admission.
So I found myself learning the English alphabet. I felt elated.
The next year, both KKN and myself studied in the same 6th standard, under Chulliparambil Sankunni Nair.
That vacation, my ammath shifted to Amballoor and so I shifted to Secondary School at Vendore at a walkable distance from ammath.
Mary teacher was our teacher. One Bahuleyan, Vasudevan and a face I knew but cannot recollect the name, were bench mates.
In the front row were girls, one with a small “bag” behind her ear was painful to look at. I have an inborn antipathy towards all types of abnormalities.
Devaky my class mate, started living at ammath. She was a namboodiri and helped in kitchen work . I did not like it, because Parameswaran the “manager” said she is a good match for me.
It was during this period that P—– took me to see the festival at Thrikur temple.
Once I failed to give fees and was thrown out of the class. I could have asked my people at ammath for money; some false sense of pride (can beggars be proud?) prevented me from approaching them. I went home to Pazhayil. I think Bhavadasettan gave me the money.
One day, football match was going on. Devassy the HM who was the referee calle me and gave me the whistle. I could not tell a football from a volley ball. All were crowdig round the ball and shouting. Some one told me to blow the whistle which I did, with all my power. Mercyfully everything became calm. The HM returned.
For anniversary, I was asked to do some speaking. “ELOCUTION” it was called. My cousin, Neil gave me a passage from Nehru’s speech. When I stood before the audience, words were stuck up in my mouth. Any way, it was all noisy; even if I spoke, they could not have heard anything. I got a pen as present. It did not work.
After the examinations, I obtained a transfer certificate and went to St. Antony’s High School, Pudukad. I failed to get admission. Had they known that I stood first in the scholarship exam. they would not have refused me; who would tell the HM?
Had I got admission there, it woud have saved me from all the sufferings, during the subsequent year.
DEATH OF MY FATHER
I was about eight years old.We were sitting in the portico of mother’s house , we say ammath, at Naruvakulangara, when a lizard fell on my head. Pozhichoor namboodiri, who was a frequent visitor at that time, recited a stanza in verse, which meant that if a lizard falls on the head, it is a bad omen, indicating the death of a guru or a parent.
Afterwards, my guru, who taught me Vedas for about an year, died.
Again, after the marriage of my youngest maternal uncle named Guptan, when we were still staying at ammath, it happened.
We children were having our supper in the hall at the usual time, about seven in the evening. Grandmother used to place a bowl, full of water, and ask us children to wash our hands in it. After some have washed, the water would turn muddy and I would feel revulsion to wash in it, but dared not express my thought. Then we would sit on the floor in two rows, leaving a gap for the women folk to walk and serve the dishes, consisting of rice, dhal, always mixed with vegetables like ash gourd (my favourite) or pumpkin or papaya, not yet sweet, or jack fruit if it is the season. Now we use brinjal, bitter gourd or onions, the small variety found in Keralam, if it is sambar in which spices like dhanya and methi are mixed in powder form. A second waterless dish is always there, along with achar; papad a rarety in those days. I wished that my mother be there to serve, in preference to some poor lady guest who invariably was present and would gladly serve us.
Suddenly there was a commotion and I saw my step sister, father’s first issue, running out into the porch. We children also went to see what happened.
I saw my father sitting on the steps and placing a small bronze vessel containing lime, used for making pan, on his left foot. I learned that he was bitten by a snake and was testing to see whether poison had entered in the wound.
I remember following my brother, who remained silent throughout the journey, to our kottikal home, the very next morning. When we reached the out house, which we used to call the bungalow, as it was constructed as a modern terrace house, I think the first in our area, I saw the body of our father lying on the floor of the veranda, up to the neck covered by a white sheet. None was present there. Without pausing, still silent, we went to the main house. I remember grandmother in tears murmuring- it is all over……..
Afterwards I pieced together the events.
The gents had gone to take bath in the big temple pond near Shiva temple at Peruvanam. While returning, father was at the end of the procession, behind uncle Bhavadasan , VBS’S father, who was carrying a kerosene lantern. Father saw the snake, a viper actually biting, but said nothing until they reached ammath. His brothers were informed by a special messenger who was sent to our home, a distance about two miles. By the time they came, some one hour must have already passed. THEREAFTER, HE WAS CARRIED TO THE AYURVEDIC HOSPITAL IN A BULLOCK CART. It might have taken forty five minutes at least. Next morning, they were preparing to leave the hospital when father felt dizzy and lay down.
I think he had a premonition and was perhaps happy to leave this world, and really lucky indeed, as things were simmering for a long time at home, he having squandered all the money in luxurious life, a trait I inherited from him which I don’t regret as Harindranathan, my cousin, used to say-” What we eat, we have wisely used money on it. All else is infructuous.”
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