Vendore shcool
Three years earlier, he ( Head Master) had personally come to the same class room, from where I was taken away by the police, to congratulate me for securing the first rank in the scholarship examination, conducted by the erstwhile Cochin state. He gave me three Malayalam books as a gift: Karuna by Mahakavi Kumaran Asan, Thotti (scavenger), a novel by Nagavalli R.S.Kurup and Lalita by Prem Chand (Malayalam version). That was indeed a memorable moment in my life! I was politically innocent then. We always regret loss of innocence. The monthly amount I received was enough for fees and books etc. My mother would say proudly :“ He gets skoraleppam”. She can never say scholarship.
After getting T.C., I went back to my school at Vendore. It is a small three room middle school where I studied in the sixth standard. Now I joined the seventh one to complete the year.
Everything seemed different, though nothing was changed. The change was within me. Earlier, I was a boy. Now, I felt like a grown up man. The eight months I spent at the high school at cherpu was like a life time of political activity. In those days politics was a patriotic urge, not a selfish vocation. A whole generation of politicians of my age now ruefully remember those days when communist ministers in Keralam went to have tea at the roadside stall, like ordinary people in simple unironed cloths, their whole salary donated to the party, to strengthen which they devoted their humble life.
At the end of the term, I joined the government school at Ollur. Jayanthan too was there. We would trudge all the way from Pudukad to Ollur, along the railway track, talking about anything under the sun, whether it be the Kerala socialist party of Mathai Manjooran, who wanted a free Keralam, or the D.M.K , fighting for Dravidasthan, United Keralam movement of Kelappan etc. etc. Days became months and, before we realised it, the exams. were near at hand!
Two things stand out in my memory. Once, in the absence of the regular teacher, a beautiful young lady teacher taught us about the various parts of a plant. I devoured every word she said. This is how it should be. A good introduction to any subject goes a long way in enabling the pupil to grasp the subject.
Another time, when the class teacher whom we called the duck, didn’t turn up. Our monitor went to inform the H.M: to the question ‘who is your teacher?’, he promptly replied :’duck!’
At that time I got some prize for being the first in English essay competition.
When I went to obtain my T.C., the H.M. insisted that my guardian must sign my application. I approached him again, after putting my brother’s signature. He abused me roundly for this duplicity; however, when I told him the truth that my brother was far away, he relented and gave me the document.
I went straight to St. Antony’s High School, Pudukad. This time I got the admission in the 9 th standard. Great relief for me as it was only a mile away from home in Pazhai.
THREE TERRORISTS – A PAGE FROM LIFE
It was 1950. Following the Calcutta thesis of Comrade Randive, communists were preparing for armed revolution. The party activists were being rounded up on the merest suspicion, tortured and liquidated in police lock ups and all outward activities stopped. The whole set up went underground. The word communist was synonimous with the word naxalite in today’s India.
We were a group of boys studying in the seventh standard in C.N.N. High School, Cherpu. Mostly our friends in the school had joined the S.F.I.
K.K.Narayanan was the leader and, along with T.K.Jayanthan and I, formed a close knit nucleus. We all belong to the same Kadalayil family. Our activities included frequent meetings and discussions and we also circulated a handwritten magazine. The latter was popular in those days.
A handsome fair chap named Govindan Kutty used to visit us. I think he conveyed the decisions of the leaders for controlling our activities. All this, now I realise in retrospect.
We used to meet at the dead of night and paste revolutionary wall papers calling for armed struggle. Tamarind seeds were soaked in water and ground to a paste. This was our gum. It is impossible to remove it.The police or the villagers did not suspect us, as we belonged to aristocratic families and were otherwise perfectly gentle boys.
It was decided to observe twentyseventh of January 1950 as protest day because the party line was that India Government was a puppet in the hands of the British government and freedom was fake. We were to organise a strike on that day.
I wondered how it could be successful. In earlier years there were strikes, but senior students were the leaders. Who would listen to us? It turned out to be a farce. We could not stop them from going to their classes. So we went in and made barricades by drawing desks at the entrance to my class room. The class teacher merely looked on.
At about 11 a.m or so, three policemen came and dragged me and K.K.N. to the police station which was quite near by. We, K.K.N and I (Jayanthan somehow escaped) were told to sqat on the floor at the entrance. A policeman came and sat by me, smiling. He tried to put his hand inside my shirt and was aiming my nipple. When I objected, he withdrew.
Time ticked away…..
At long last, I was led to the lock up. It was very gloomy inside with high walls and the small ventilators near the ceiling, allowing some light inside.
I was told to sit upright with my legs stretched. A hefty fellow placed his right booted foot on my knees and pressed hard. It hurt me. He then started caning my feet, starting from the bottom and slowly going upwards. At each stroke, the skin billowed, like papad over the fire! Then the caning was downwards. The pain was unbearable, but I did not cry.
When it was over, he told me to walk a few times, up and down. Then I was led back to the entrance of the building.
I was relieved to see my uncle Guptan Bhattadiripad and cousin Veemboor Bhavadasan Namboodiripad, waiting for me.
We walked all the way home to Pazhai, some two miles distance, the stones on the road causing unbearable pain. On the way, they told me to stop all this and concentrate on studies.They offered to help me, when the time came for higher studies.
When I came home, mother, who must have been weeping all the while, didn’t ask a single question!
All three of us, were given Transfer Certificates. Against the column - conduct , the head master, C.P.Govindan Nair wrote-” good “
You are brilliant students, I don’t want to spoil your future – he said.
My heartfelt thanks to him, and Him!
PUDUKAD
The two years in the High School at Pudukad were very peaceful, like the flow of a river after a cataract.
One P.C. Joseph taught us in the ninth standard. He was tall and handsome. He was rather strict in the class and was feared by the students. I used to take English books from the library in his charge, mostly novels about the life in the nineteenth century and I used to enjoy it very much.
We were itroduced to the laboratory. Of course, the teacher did the experiment and we just watched. He took a little mercuric oxide in a test tube and heated it over the burner. After some time, we could see shining mercury in the tube!
Some of us did not know the difference between physics and chemistry. I eagerly waited for the science classes.
Malayalam was boring, especially grammar. MATTUVINA, PATTUVINA, PERECHAM, VINEYACHAM – such idiotic words I still remember, but failed to know why the were necessary.I could easily talk and write without knowing such terms.Once I made a mistake in writing rajaavu. Aftr j I put only one a. The teacher asked me to write the word ten times. I wrote only the letter, a , ten times. He looked at me with disgust, but did not say anything.
Once during break, some of us went to see a dead body on the railway track. The fingers were crushed and it was painful to watch. I didn’t go very near. Some one said he was killed by enemies and put on the rail track.
Sometimes I was late in the school. My mother did all the cooking. As we coud not afford to buy wood for fuel, she used to collect leaves of areca nut trees which fall to the ground. I now feel guilty that we did not help her. She won’t bother to tell us. I cannot go without food for lunch. This I explained to the teacher who questioned me . He asked me to bring a letter from mother. I wrote it and my mother signed it. She had learned to write K-A-L-I in Malayalam. The teacher was satisfied. There after, mother was careful to prepare food early!
At the end of the two year period, in the farewel party, our group photo was taken. I had no money to have a copy. That was the first time my photo was taken. I used to cut my hair very short, and as I had a very poor opinion of myself, being thin and short, I was none too eager to se it.
I was not worrying about the result.
One day the youngest of the warriar brothers, Eswaran Kutty, came waving a newspaper. I had first class.
INTERMEDIATE
I was able to get admission for the intermediate course, as the two year study before joining degree course was known at that time, in St. Thomas College at Trichur, with biology, physics and chemistry. I foolishly believed that, somehow, my wish to study medicine will be fulfilled. I had great fascination for human physiology. I wanted to know how my body worked. Luckily, we had a separate paper for this subject and the text book written by one Ekambaram became my bible!
The very first test in botany, drew tears from my eyes, as I failed in it. The teacher told me that I have written all right, but failed to draw diagrams. It was a good lesson. But the shock defeat was too much for me and I failed to listen to what was being lectured in the next English period, drawing sharp rebuke from the teacher(some are lecturers, some are demonstrators. As I cannot remember which, I call them teachers.)
The thrill I felt, when I first entered the laboratory cannot be described in words. The very atmosphere in the lab transformed me into something else. I was afraid to touch the common balance, so delicate was it.
The very first experiment was to determine the moisture content in a sample of sand. Some one wanted to know if the sand is free from moisture. The teacher countered: can I see water vapour? He explained that by holding a watch glass over the sand, we can ascertain if water is still in the sample. If the glass dims, surely water is still left.
I was clumsy. Weighing in the extra sensitive balance took all my mental strength, but I was determined to succeed.
Even though we had English, I did not buy any books. Just before the exams, I would hurriedly go through them, borrowed from friends. Writing extempo was no problem for me.
Our Malayalam teacher was P.A.Warriar, whose lectures I really enjoyed.
Once, the physics teacher commented: there is a polite way of entering the class. I could not understand. I was late and so hurried to occupy my seat. What is wrong? He meant that I should have asked: may I come in Sir?
During the two years, I stayed with my aunt Devasena (Mrs. K.P.N.) who had a special affection for me. As a neglected child, I enjoyed it very much. Soya was just three years old, a cute little baby, Sasi two years elder to her and Mohanan the eldest. Uncle was always reading some books,” decline and fall of the Roman empire was” one.
The house located near the rice fields allowed cool breeze coming from the sea. For the first time, I got good food, after some four years! Occasionally, K.P.C.Anujan came, with his affable smile. Those two years were like the period I spent at Kirangattu mana.
FATHER
Father got a good some of money as value of our share of the ancestral property. Some one must have advised him, as he was not aware of the intricacies of law; he sold our land and bought land in Malabar, anticipating a major gain, as the land laws were different in Malabar and Cochin State. The whole thing came under litigation and we had to come back to our Cochin state, with loss of money.
First it was Ollur. The brother with Edakkunni warassiar (fem. gender of warriar) as wife, had a house. We stayed there for some time. Then we came to Ramaphan’s house at Pidikaparambu. I remember that grandmother became ill, very vague memory it is.
The next destination was Thalore which I have described already.
It was only after we settled in our Kottical house, that I went to see our ancestral home for the first time, probably at the invitation of K.K.N. As both of us were studying in the same class at CNN High School, Cherpu, we became thick friends.
At the entrance was a long gate, consisting of bamboo poles, fixed horizontally, through holes in wooden posts. On the right side, was a cattle shed with a number of cows and one or two bulls.
There were any number of servants, both male and female, going here and there. As I did not venture inside into ladies’ wing I did not see even KKN’s mother at that time.
For men folk, there was a very big house, looking more like a museum, with a number of steps leading to the open portico, with broad parapets where people used to sit and talk. A proportionately large table, without any chair occupied the centre of the portico from which you enter a gallery, with two big rooms, one on either side. Each room was occupied by an old uncle, Kunjunni aphan and Vasudevaphan.
We then went to the river, forming the southern boundary. It was a narrow stream with plenty of sand on our side. There was some water near the opposite side. It was beautiful.
Later on, during rainy season, when the whole area, including the rice fields and the land on the opposite side were under water, KKN and I used to go rowing in a small canoe into the river and reach up to Thrikkur, where there is a cave temple of Lord Shiva, on top of the hill, rising straight from the river bank. For the return journey, we didn’t have to exert. We allow the vessel to flow down, only directing it occasionally, to avoid colliding with a raft or the river bank itself. I learned from KKN, the trick of overturning the canoe and getting into it again, and then throwing away the water inside, with bare hands. We were only twelve years old, but none bothered.
ANCESTRAL PROPERTY
Our ancestral home was built before the “Revenue Settlement” during the British Raj, with a view to bring all land deeds made in the name of individuals or institutions, so that revenue can be collected for meeting administrative expenses. Hence the name Collector came into vogue. So there is no title deed for our property.
It is located near the river which makes a C- shaped bend at this point. In the monsoon season, the river flows straight over our land and we had any number of canoes made of mango tree, which remain afloat, even when overturned. Our home became an island then.
Even in my childhood, there were dozens of inmates, several children, a big cattle shed, any number of servants, both male and female, a vast orchard, two or three ponds…Oh! It was nothing short of Paradise
LEGEND
According to The Legends of Keralam, my ancestor, another namboodiri from poomulli and a nair from Pallissery traveled all the way to Kanchipuram to pray at the Kamakshi temple. They remained there for forty one days. My ancestor prayed her as Durga, poomulli as Lakshmi and nair as Bhadrakali, and returned home, carrying the spirit of the deity and installed the deity at Pisharikal, Oorakam and Vallachira respectively. I n a way, they are all sisters and meet once a year at our home on the day before the great pooram festival at Arattupuzha
POOCHARU
Among us, all have nick names.
Poocha means cat. My grandfather’s cousin Neelakanthan was given this name, I don’t know why. He is KKN’s father.
Full of humour and very jovial, he used to talk to me, as a friend.
He was very much attached to our ancestral home and was unhappy to leave it after division of property following land reforms in 1975.
When he was a child, he rode an elephant, all by himself!
The mahouts had gone out, leaving the animal in our plot. Poocharu went near the animal and asked it to lie down. It obeyed and the boy climbed on its neck. As was its habit, the elephant stood up and began to walk towards the gate. The mahaut saw his elephant coming and took control of the animal.
Poocharu was lucky. Some elephants are not so good natured and some are villainous. It was Ammathiruvadi who saved him.
He told me about the dilemma they faced at the time of the great partition, after great grandfather’s death. He said: my uncles were on one side, orthodox and adamant. On the other side, your father and all my cousin brothers, favouring revolutionary changes sweeping across the nation. My mind was wavering.
His two brothers were eccentric. Narayanan ate datura fruit when he was a boy. His cousins and others warned him about the poisonous nature of the fruit which can affect mental equilibrium; he ignored it.
Another brother, Thuppan (subrahmanian) had no issues. He used to eat bitter neem leaves daily.
A sister was given in marriage to Mundanat mana, descendents of my wife’s grandfather. I saw her for the first time after my marriage. She was moving away, seeing a man at my wife’s house. Mother-in-law told her that we are blood relations; so she can see me.
THE GREAT PARTITION
It happened at the turn of the nineteenth century, immediately after the death of our grandfather.
My uncle had alliance (sambandham) with Royal family at Tripunithura, near Ernakulam. The winds of change, blowing across the subcontinent, had its repercussions in our Cochin State too.
One uncle, Krishnan took part in Vaikam satyagraham for allowing lower caste people to enter the famous Shiva temple there. He was asked to do penance, according to prescribed rituals, before entering the house where Ammathiruvadi is installed.
He refused; father sided with him. So began the great divide. Apart from my group, Ramaphan group also left the home.
The orchard around the house is spread over some three or more acres of land and includes a very big pond. After coming from the college, I jump into the pond and bcome fresh after a bath. When I reach the house, my cousin wil be ready with plenty of tea and fried papad. Now too I like this combination. Afterwards I read the relevent portions in the books borrowed from another cousin who passed B.Sc. in 1947. I had no money for buyinng new books.
In the morning, I walk all the way to the college, through the rice fields, enjoying the scenery all the way, and reach just in time, so that I rarely had time to mix with other students, except Govindan Kutty, my bench mate. The lectures were uninteresting, as I coud learn things easily from the books.
Pasupathy was an exception. He gives a proper introduction, after which, the subject is easy to understand. He dealt organic chemistry, which I like, being well organised and logical, like mathematics. The composition of all hydro carbons like methane, ethane etc. can be expressed in a simple formula! Inorganic chemistry is a jungle, while organic chemistry is a well laid garden!
Writing records, especially botany records was a problem, as there was no furniture in the house. (This is true of all namboodiri homes) and I sought special permission from the lecturer for submitting the same afterwards.
The work in the laboratory was interesting. However, I lacked the necessary skill and was often clumsy.
Once I did some experiment with sodium metal, very soft and looking like wax, which is rationed to us when required. After finishing the experiment, I was washing the test tube. As soon as I poured some water from the tap, there was an explosion and the girls cried out terrified! Some quantity of sodium was left behind in the tube, and as I poured water, it reacted immediately to form sodium hydroxide, releasing oxygen gas, which caused the explosion. As in a fire works factory, one has to be very careful.
KERALA VARMA COLLEGE
When the results of the intermediate examination came, three of us in the science group secured 75% marks, considered as distiction in those days. I could have easily got admission in the medical college at Trivandrum. I do not think there was any other medical college except at Madras. None came forward to help me out.
Not a grain to eat, and wishes to jingle golden bangles (Kunchan Nambiar), aptly describes my state.
I DID NOT REGRET HAVING TAKEN BIOLOGY. But practical difficulties were serious. My college did not offer any degree course with biology. For B.Sc. in Physics, mathematics was essential.
At that time, Kerala Varma College, somewhat away from the town, started the degree course in Chemistry, with Professor Pasupathy as Head of the department. Dr. C.V. Krishnan and Dr. Govindan Kutty and myself were among the first batch of students for the new course, as I had high marks in that subject and V.B.S suggested that I go for it.
But what about accommodation and food? Namboodiries with Rigveda have both facilities at the Brahmaswam Madam (Math) at Trichur, but I am Yajurvedi by birth. It seemed that He took a malicious glee in paving my way with thorns and rough stones.
I had zero budget. My brother who was working as poojari in our grandmother’s maiden home (father’s ammath) never felt it necessary that I should study. Will he ever get a job?- he would ask. Whenever my letter reaches him, Kuttetan, in charge of management there, would ask: is it from Kunjanujan (that is myself, as I am known, we never say Subrahmanian)Brother will nod, yes.
He wants money, isn’t it?
Again, a silent nod.
So Kuttetan will send the money and debit it in my brother’s account. What if he fails to notice my letter?
At V.B.S.’s suggestion, I put up at an out house belonging to Kirangatu mana at Puzhakkal, near a temple, the Warriam family helping me to get rice offered to the deity of the temple, but I found it impossible to continue. When I finished B.Sc., I gave my books and practical records to the boy of that Warriam, which was indeed a very foolish and thoughtless act on my part.
Then he thought of another alternative. I had a cousin sister who was given in marriage to Aikattu mana at Pullazhi, near Olarikara. Sankaran namboodiri, her husband, was quite well off with cole farming of rice. I met him and requested for stay in his house. He gladly agreed. So a major problem was solved!
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The orchard around the house is spread over some three or more acres of land and includes a very big pond. After coming from the college, I jump into the pond and bcome fresh after a bath. When I reach the house, my cousin wil be ready with plenty of tea and fried papad. Now too I like this combination. Afterwards I read the relevent portions in the books borrowed from another cousin who passed B.Sc. in 1947. I had no money for buyinng new books.
In the morning, I walk all the way to the college, through the rice fields, enjoying the scenery all the way, and reach just in time, so that I rarely had time to mix with other students, except Govindan Kutty, my bench mate. The lectures were uninteresting, as I coud learn things easily from the books.
Pasupathy was an exception. He gives a proper introduction, after which, the subject is easy to understand. He dealt organic chemistry, which I like, being well organised and logical, like mathematics. The composition of all hydro carbons like methane, ethane etc. can be expressed in a simple formula! Inorganic chemistry is a jungle, while organic chemistry is a well laid garden!
Writing records, especially botany records was a problem, as there was no furniture in the house. (This is true of all namboodiri homes) and I sought special permission from the lecturer for submitting the same afterwards.
The work in the laboratory was interesting. However, I lacked the necessary skill and was often clumsy.
Once I did some experiment with sodium metal, very soft and looking like wax, which is rationed to us when required. After finishing the experiment, I was washing the test tube. As soon as I poured some water from the tap, there was an explosion and the girls cried out terrified! Some quantity of sodium was left behind in the tube, and as I poured water, it reacted immediately to form sodium hydroxide, releasing oxygen gas, which caused the explosion. As in a fire works factory, one has to be very careful.
During titration, I lose patience and drop more solution from the burette, when a single extra drop will vitiate the result.
My cousin (Veembur Bhavadasan) used to say that the chemistry lab. is just a cooking place! He says biology is just drawing animals and plants and cutting them to pieces. Only Physics is science. Mathematicians are intelligent!
Vasu master was our lecturer for physical chemistry. I used to borrow books from him during vacations, as he lived at Thaikatussery, a walkable distance from home. I understand that he is now a big scientist.
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When I was studying in Kerala Varma College, my mother was accommodated in K.P.N uncle’s house, Savithry at my uncle Guptan’s house at Amballur and Devasena at V.B.S’s house at Pazhai. This way I wanted to utilise the money saved for my education. I do not remember whose brain wave it was. May be, I thought of such a scheme; it did not work.
I remember watching mother hurrying to our home at Pazhai, standing on the road side at Kadalasseri centre, totally disorientd, dejected and, instead of escorting mother to Pazhai, I went to my friend Jayanthan’s home, Thekedath kadalayil, situated on the bank of the R. Manaly puzha. I spent the night there.
The scene of my mother walking listlessly and shuffling her feet, sometimes used to haunt me in my dreams. In one dream, after her demise, she was with hair shaved off and oil coming out of her scalp. I shuddered in my dream and sat up cursing my cowardice in facing life. How could I be such a rascal? Why did I not love my own mother?
Sometimes I dream of reaching home at Pazhai and seeing nobody there, worrying where have my people gone?
I think now that the mud house never succeeded in gaining approval of my subconscious mind. It was the first time a namboodiri family lived in such conditions. My brother escaped by becoming a poojari. I was helpless as I had to study.
For some time, mother lived at my cousin’s house with me, to help her after delivery. I felt relief.
Once Jayanthan came there. I took him to see an abandoned rubber plantation at Olarikara. It was quite big. We saw a closed bungalow, with an eerie look. I tried to imagine the busy life which once flourished inside. Every peiod has its end.
I think mother went to look after my father’s first wife Oppolamma, ailing and facing the end, at Kodanatu mana, during the final year of my studies.
When she died I could not stay at Pullai, as we are polluted, for eleven days. I returned home to Pazhai. On the way, I climbed up the hill near the railway station at Pdukad. The view from the summit was really good; but I failed to appreciate it. The uncertainties about my studies haunted me. Was I right in going for degree course without the wherewithal?
I felt demunitive and pitiful. Who cares for me? Will I ever get a job? Why am I putting every one to so much trouble?
I sat for a long time with gloomy thoughts, in the company of evil looking dogs, until the orange western sky called me home.
OPPOLAMMA
If anybody really loved and cared for my mother, it was my father’s first wife!She was wealthy and handsome. My mother was of the same age as her own daughter who was a real beauty.We, my brother and I, used to call her Oppolamma, meaning sister’s mother, as was customary among us. She used to remain in her own home, most of the time, and was something like an occasional visitor.I had no friend in the family, when we were staying at kotticall house, before partition, following the death of my father, I used to remain with the ladies. I used to see Oppolamma reading religious books like Ramayana, the fat book placed on a wooden stand, shaped like an X.She once commented that I would be a hen pecked husband! I was about five years old at that time. I have not seen her talking to my father. Normally, it was rarely that he talked to my mother either, except to give some command or to scold her!Even when we moved to a mud house at Pazhai, she remained with us, during her yearly visit, spending only one or two days with her daughter, my step sister. Her affectin for my mother was so great that she preferred my mother to serve her, when she was bed ridden during her last days. This was when I was studying for B.Sc.When I heard about her end being near, I started for her home near Wadakanchery with petty cash, enough for the bus journey. That was all I had. At that time, I did not know how I was going to raise moey for my next college fee.She told me that her end was near. After spending some time, I bid her final good bye and started to go.She asked me whether I had any money. I emptied my pocket and showed her the coins. She told me to place it at her foot and go round her and prostrate. I did as told, realizing only then, that it is customary to do so, as she was my step mother. I could have easily borrowed money for the return journey from her people in the house, but was too shy to do so and proceeded to Olarikara near Trichur on foot, along the railway track. It was getting dark. Luckily I saw the full moon rising in the eastern sky and enjoyed the whole journey, looking at the landscape in the moonlight and observing the goings on in the villages along the track, an experience we miss normally. When I reached the house of my cousin sister Kali, where I was staying and daily trekking to and from Kerala Varma College, Trichur, a distance of about two miles, all were sleeping soundly. I quietly slipped into my mattress on the floor and went to sleep immediately.
Three years earlier, he ( Head Master) had personally come to the same class room, from where I was taken away by the police, to congratulate me for securing the first rank in the scholarship examination, conducted by the erstwhile Cochin state. He gave me three Malayalam books as a gift: Karuna by Mahakavi Kumaran Asan, Thotti (scavenger), a novel by Nagavalli R.S.Kurup and Lalita by Prem Chand (Malayalam version). That was indeed a memorable moment in my life! I was politically innocent then. We always regret loss of innocence. The monthly amount I received was enough for fees and books etc. My mother would say proudly :“ He gets skoraleppam”. She can never say scholarship.
After getting T.C., I went back to my school at Vendore. It is a small three room middle school where I studied in the sixth standard. Now I joined the seventh one to complete the year.
Everything seemed different, though nothing was changed. The change was within me. Earlier, I was a boy. Now, I felt like a grown up man. The eight months I spent at the high school at cherpu was like a life time of political activity. In those days politics was a patriotic urge, not a selfish vocation. A whole generation of politicians of my age now ruefully remember those days when communist ministers in Keralam went to have tea at the roadside stall, like ordinary people in simple unironed cloths, their whole salary donated to the party, to strengthen which they devoted their humble life.
At the end of the term, I joined the government school at Ollur. Jayanthan too was there. We would trudge all the way from Pudukad to Ollur, along the railway track, talking about anything under the sun, whether it be the Kerala socialist party of Mathai Manjooran, who wanted a free Keralam, or the D.M.K , fighting for Dravidasthan, United Keralam movement of Kelappan etc. etc. Days became months and, before we realised it, the exams. were near at hand!
Two things stand out in my memory. Once, in the absence of the regular teacher, a beautiful young lady teacher taught us about the various parts of a plant. I devoured every word she said. This is how it should be. A good introduction to any subject goes a long way in enabling the pupil to grasp the subject.
Another time, when the class teacher whom we called the duck, didn’t turn up. Our monitor went to inform the H.M: to the question ‘who is your teacher?’, he promptly replied :’duck!’
At that time I got some prize for being the first in English essay competition.
When I went to obtain my T.C., the H.M. insisted that my guardian must sign my application. I approached him again, after putting my brother’s signature. He abused me roundly for this duplicity; however, when I told him the truth that my brother was far away, he relented and gave me the document.
I went straight to St. Antony’s High School, Pudukad. This time I got the admission in the 9 th standard. Great relief for me as it was only a mile away from home in Pazhai.
THREE TERRORISTS – A PAGE FROM LIFE
It was 1950. Following the Calcutta thesis of Comrade Randive, communists were preparing for armed revolution. The party activists were being rounded up on the merest suspicion, tortured and liquidated in police lock ups and all outward activities stopped. The whole set up went underground. The word communist was synonimous with the word naxalite in today’s India.
We were a group of boys studying in the seventh standard in C.N.N. High School, Cherpu. Mostly our friends in the school had joined the S.F.I.
K.K.Narayanan was the leader and, along with T.K.Jayanthan and I, formed a close knit nucleus. We all belong to the same Kadalayil family. Our activities included frequent meetings and discussions and we also circulated a handwritten magazine. The latter was popular in those days.
A handsome fair chap named Govindan Kutty used to visit us. I think he conveyed the decisions of the leaders for controlling our activities. All this, now I realise in retrospect.
We used to meet at the dead of night and paste revolutionary wall papers calling for armed struggle. Tamarind seeds were soaked in water and ground to a paste. This was our gum. It is impossible to remove it.The police or the villagers did not suspect us, as we belonged to aristocratic families and were otherwise perfectly gentle boys.
It was decided to observe twentyseventh of January 1950 as protest day because the party line was that India Government was a puppet in the hands of the British government and freedom was fake. We were to organise a strike on that day.
I wondered how it could be successful. In earlier years there were strikes, but senior students were the leaders. Who would listen to us? It turned out to be a farce. We could not stop them from going to their classes. So we went in and made barricades by drawing desks at the entrance to my class room. The class teacher merely looked on.
At about 11 a.m or so, three policemen came and dragged me and K.K.N. to the police station which was quite near by. We, K.K.N and I (Jayanthan somehow escaped) were told to sqat on the floor at the entrance. A policeman came and sat by me, smiling. He tried to put his hand inside my shirt and was aiming my nipple. When I objected, he withdrew.
Time ticked away…..
At long last, I was led to the lock up. It was very gloomy inside with high walls and the small ventilators near the ceiling, allowing some light inside.
I was told to sit upright with my legs stretched. A hefty fellow placed his right booted foot on my knees and pressed hard. It hurt me. He then started caning my feet, starting from the bottom and slowly going upwards. At each stroke, the skin billowed, like papad over the fire! Then the caning was downwards. The pain was unbearable, but I did not cry.
When it was over, he told me to walk a few times, up and down. Then I was led back to the entrance of the building.
I was relieved to see my uncle Guptan Bhattadiripad and cousin Veemboor Bhavadasan Namboodiripad, waiting for me.
We walked all the way home to Pazhai, some two miles distance, the stones on the road causing unbearable pain. On the way, they told me to stop all this and concentrate on studies.They offered to help me, when the time came for higher studies.
When I came home, mother, who must have been weeping all the while, didn’t ask a single question!
All three of us, were given Transfer Certificates. Against the column - conduct , the head master, C.P.Govindan Nair wrote-” good “
You are brilliant students, I don’t want to spoil your future – he said.
My heartfelt thanks to him, and Him!
PUDUKAD
The two years in the High School at Pudukad were very peaceful, like the flow of a river after a cataract.
One P.C. Joseph taught us in the ninth standard. He was tall and handsome. He was rather strict in the class and was feared by the students. I used to take English books from the library in his charge, mostly novels about the life in the nineteenth century and I used to enjoy it very much.
We were itroduced to the laboratory. Of course, the teacher did the experiment and we just watched. He took a little mercuric oxide in a test tube and heated it over the burner. After some time, we could see shining mercury in the tube!
Some of us did not know the difference between physics and chemistry. I eagerly waited for the science classes.
Malayalam was boring, especially grammar. MATTUVINA, PATTUVINA, PERECHAM, VINEYACHAM – such idiotic words I still remember, but failed to know why the were necessary.I could easily talk and write without knowing such terms.Once I made a mistake in writing rajaavu. Aftr j I put only one a. The teacher asked me to write the word ten times. I wrote only the letter, a , ten times. He looked at me with disgust, but did not say anything.
Once during break, some of us went to see a dead body on the railway track. The fingers were crushed and it was painful to watch. I didn’t go very near. Some one said he was killed by enemies and put on the rail track.
Sometimes I was late in the school. My mother did all the cooking. As we coud not afford to buy wood for fuel, she used to collect leaves of areca nut trees which fall to the ground. I now feel guilty that we did not help her. She won’t bother to tell us. I cannot go without food for lunch. This I explained to the teacher who questioned me . He asked me to bring a letter from mother. I wrote it and my mother signed it. She had learned to write K-A-L-I in Malayalam. The teacher was satisfied. There after, mother was careful to prepare food early!
At the end of the two year period, in the farewel party, our group photo was taken. I had no money to have a copy. That was the first time my photo was taken. I used to cut my hair very short, and as I had a very poor opinion of myself, being thin and short, I was none too eager to se it.
I was not worrying about the result.
One day the youngest of the warriar brothers, Eswaran Kutty, came waving a newspaper. I had first class.
INTERMEDIATE
I was able to get admission for the intermediate course, as the two year study before joining degree course was known at that time, in St. Thomas College at Trichur, with biology, physics and chemistry. I foolishly believed that, somehow, my wish to study medicine will be fulfilled. I had great fascination for human physiology. I wanted to know how my body worked. Luckily, we had a separate paper for this subject and the text book written by one Ekambaram became my bible!
The very first test in botany, drew tears from my eyes, as I failed in it. The teacher told me that I have written all right, but failed to draw diagrams. It was a good lesson. But the shock defeat was too much for me and I failed to listen to what was being lectured in the next English period, drawing sharp rebuke from the teacher(some are lecturers, some are demonstrators. As I cannot remember which, I call them teachers.)
The thrill I felt, when I first entered the laboratory cannot be described in words. The very atmosphere in the lab transformed me into something else. I was afraid to touch the common balance, so delicate was it.
The very first experiment was to determine the moisture content in a sample of sand. Some one wanted to know if the sand is free from moisture. The teacher countered: can I see water vapour? He explained that by holding a watch glass over the sand, we can ascertain if water is still in the sample. If the glass dims, surely water is still left.
I was clumsy. Weighing in the extra sensitive balance took all my mental strength, but I was determined to succeed.
Even though we had English, I did not buy any books. Just before the exams, I would hurriedly go through them, borrowed from friends. Writing extempo was no problem for me.
Our Malayalam teacher was P.A.Warriar, whose lectures I really enjoyed.
Once, the physics teacher commented: there is a polite way of entering the class. I could not understand. I was late and so hurried to occupy my seat. What is wrong? He meant that I should have asked: may I come in Sir?
During the two years, I stayed with my aunt Devasena (Mrs. K.P.N.) who had a special affection for me. As a neglected child, I enjoyed it very much. Soya was just three years old, a cute little baby, Sasi two years elder to her and Mohanan the eldest. Uncle was always reading some books,” decline and fall of the Roman empire was” one.
The house located near the rice fields allowed cool breeze coming from the sea. For the first time, I got good food, after some four years! Occasionally, K.P.C.Anujan came, with his affable smile. Those two years were like the period I spent at Kirangattu mana.
FATHER
Father got a good some of money as value of our share of the ancestral property. Some one must have advised him, as he was not aware of the intricacies of law; he sold our land and bought land in Malabar, anticipating a major gain, as the land laws were different in Malabar and Cochin State. The whole thing came under litigation and we had to come back to our Cochin state, with loss of money.
First it was Ollur. The brother with Edakkunni warassiar (fem. gender of warriar) as wife, had a house. We stayed there for some time. Then we came to Ramaphan’s house at Pidikaparambu. I remember that grandmother became ill, very vague memory it is.
The next destination was Thalore which I have described already.
It was only after we settled in our Kottical house, that I went to see our ancestral home for the first time, probably at the invitation of K.K.N. As both of us were studying in the same class at CNN High School, Cherpu, we became thick friends.
At the entrance was a long gate, consisting of bamboo poles, fixed horizontally, through holes in wooden posts. On the right side, was a cattle shed with a number of cows and one or two bulls.
There were any number of servants, both male and female, going here and there. As I did not venture inside into ladies’ wing I did not see even KKN’s mother at that time.
For men folk, there was a very big house, looking more like a museum, with a number of steps leading to the open portico, with broad parapets where people used to sit and talk. A proportionately large table, without any chair occupied the centre of the portico from which you enter a gallery, with two big rooms, one on either side. Each room was occupied by an old uncle, Kunjunni aphan and Vasudevaphan.
We then went to the river, forming the southern boundary. It was a narrow stream with plenty of sand on our side. There was some water near the opposite side. It was beautiful.
Later on, during rainy season, when the whole area, including the rice fields and the land on the opposite side were under water, KKN and I used to go rowing in a small canoe into the river and reach up to Thrikkur, where there is a cave temple of Lord Shiva, on top of the hill, rising straight from the river bank. For the return journey, we didn’t have to exert. We allow the vessel to flow down, only directing it occasionally, to avoid colliding with a raft or the river bank itself. I learned from KKN, the trick of overturning the canoe and getting into it again, and then throwing away the water inside, with bare hands. We were only twelve years old, but none bothered.
ANCESTRAL PROPERTY
Our ancestral home was built before the “Revenue Settlement” during the British Raj, with a view to bring all land deeds made in the name of individuals or institutions, so that revenue can be collected for meeting administrative expenses. Hence the name Collector came into vogue. So there is no title deed for our property.
It is located near the river which makes a C- shaped bend at this point. In the monsoon season, the river flows straight over our land and we had any number of canoes made of mango tree, which remain afloat, even when overturned. Our home became an island then.
Even in my childhood, there were dozens of inmates, several children, a big cattle shed, any number of servants, both male and female, a vast orchard, two or three ponds…Oh! It was nothing short of Paradise
LEGEND
According to The Legends of Keralam, my ancestor, another namboodiri from poomulli and a nair from Pallissery traveled all the way to Kanchipuram to pray at the Kamakshi temple. They remained there for forty one days. My ancestor prayed her as Durga, poomulli as Lakshmi and nair as Bhadrakali, and returned home, carrying the spirit of the deity and installed the deity at Pisharikal, Oorakam and Vallachira respectively. I n a way, they are all sisters and meet once a year at our home on the day before the great pooram festival at Arattupuzha
POOCHARU
Among us, all have nick names.
Poocha means cat. My grandfather’s cousin Neelakanthan was given this name, I don’t know why. He is KKN’s father.
Full of humour and very jovial, he used to talk to me, as a friend.
He was very much attached to our ancestral home and was unhappy to leave it after division of property following land reforms in 1975.
When he was a child, he rode an elephant, all by himself!
The mahouts had gone out, leaving the animal in our plot. Poocharu went near the animal and asked it to lie down. It obeyed and the boy climbed on its neck. As was its habit, the elephant stood up and began to walk towards the gate. The mahaut saw his elephant coming and took control of the animal.
Poocharu was lucky. Some elephants are not so good natured and some are villainous. It was Ammathiruvadi who saved him.
He told me about the dilemma they faced at the time of the great partition, after great grandfather’s death. He said: my uncles were on one side, orthodox and adamant. On the other side, your father and all my cousin brothers, favouring revolutionary changes sweeping across the nation. My mind was wavering.
His two brothers were eccentric. Narayanan ate datura fruit when he was a boy. His cousins and others warned him about the poisonous nature of the fruit which can affect mental equilibrium; he ignored it.
Another brother, Thuppan (subrahmanian) had no issues. He used to eat bitter neem leaves daily.
A sister was given in marriage to Mundanat mana, descendents of my wife’s grandfather. I saw her for the first time after my marriage. She was moving away, seeing a man at my wife’s house. Mother-in-law told her that we are blood relations; so she can see me.
THE GREAT PARTITION
It happened at the turn of the nineteenth century, immediately after the death of our grandfather.
My uncle had alliance (sambandham) with Royal family at Tripunithura, near Ernakulam. The winds of change, blowing across the subcontinent, had its repercussions in our Cochin State too.
One uncle, Krishnan took part in Vaikam satyagraham for allowing lower caste people to enter the famous Shiva temple there. He was asked to do penance, according to prescribed rituals, before entering the house where Ammathiruvadi is installed.
He refused; father sided with him. So began the great divide. Apart from my group, Ramaphan group also left the home.
The orchard around the house is spread over some three or more acres of land and includes a very big pond. After coming from the college, I jump into the pond and bcome fresh after a bath. When I reach the house, my cousin wil be ready with plenty of tea and fried papad. Now too I like this combination. Afterwards I read the relevent portions in the books borrowed from another cousin who passed B.Sc. in 1947. I had no money for buyinng new books.
In the morning, I walk all the way to the college, through the rice fields, enjoying the scenery all the way, and reach just in time, so that I rarely had time to mix with other students, except Govindan Kutty, my bench mate. The lectures were uninteresting, as I coud learn things easily from the books.
Pasupathy was an exception. He gives a proper introduction, after which, the subject is easy to understand. He dealt organic chemistry, which I like, being well organised and logical, like mathematics. The composition of all hydro carbons like methane, ethane etc. can be expressed in a simple formula! Inorganic chemistry is a jungle, while organic chemistry is a well laid garden!
Writing records, especially botany records was a problem, as there was no furniture in the house. (This is true of all namboodiri homes) and I sought special permission from the lecturer for submitting the same afterwards.
The work in the laboratory was interesting. However, I lacked the necessary skill and was often clumsy.
Once I did some experiment with sodium metal, very soft and looking like wax, which is rationed to us when required. After finishing the experiment, I was washing the test tube. As soon as I poured some water from the tap, there was an explosion and the girls cried out terrified! Some quantity of sodium was left behind in the tube, and as I poured water, it reacted immediately to form sodium hydroxide, releasing oxygen gas, which caused the explosion. As in a fire works factory, one has to be very careful.
KERALA VARMA COLLEGE
When the results of the intermediate examination came, three of us in the science group secured 75% marks, considered as distiction in those days. I could have easily got admission in the medical college at Trivandrum. I do not think there was any other medical college except at Madras. None came forward to help me out.
Not a grain to eat, and wishes to jingle golden bangles (Kunchan Nambiar), aptly describes my state.
I DID NOT REGRET HAVING TAKEN BIOLOGY. But practical difficulties were serious. My college did not offer any degree course with biology. For B.Sc. in Physics, mathematics was essential.
At that time, Kerala Varma College, somewhat away from the town, started the degree course in Chemistry, with Professor Pasupathy as Head of the department. Dr. C.V. Krishnan and Dr. Govindan Kutty and myself were among the first batch of students for the new course, as I had high marks in that subject and V.B.S suggested that I go for it.
But what about accommodation and food? Namboodiries with Rigveda have both facilities at the Brahmaswam Madam (Math) at Trichur, but I am Yajurvedi by birth. It seemed that He took a malicious glee in paving my way with thorns and rough stones.
I had zero budget. My brother who was working as poojari in our grandmother’s maiden home (father’s ammath) never felt it necessary that I should study. Will he ever get a job?- he would ask. Whenever my letter reaches him, Kuttetan, in charge of management there, would ask: is it from Kunjanujan (that is myself, as I am known, we never say Subrahmanian)Brother will nod, yes.
He wants money, isn’t it?
Again, a silent nod.
So Kuttetan will send the money and debit it in my brother’s account. What if he fails to notice my letter?
At V.B.S.’s suggestion, I put up at an out house belonging to Kirangatu mana at Puzhakkal, near a temple, the Warriam family helping me to get rice offered to the deity of the temple, but I found it impossible to continue. When I finished B.Sc., I gave my books and practical records to the boy of that Warriam, which was indeed a very foolish and thoughtless act on my part.
Then he thought of another alternative. I had a cousin sister who was given in marriage to Aikattu mana at Pullazhi, near Olarikara. Sankaran namboodiri, her husband, was quite well off with cole farming of rice. I met him and requested for stay in his house. He gladly agreed. So a major problem was solved!
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The orchard around the house is spread over some three or more acres of land and includes a very big pond. After coming from the college, I jump into the pond and bcome fresh after a bath. When I reach the house, my cousin wil be ready with plenty of tea and fried papad. Now too I like this combination. Afterwards I read the relevent portions in the books borrowed from another cousin who passed B.Sc. in 1947. I had no money for buyinng new books.
In the morning, I walk all the way to the college, through the rice fields, enjoying the scenery all the way, and reach just in time, so that I rarely had time to mix with other students, except Govindan Kutty, my bench mate. The lectures were uninteresting, as I coud learn things easily from the books.
Pasupathy was an exception. He gives a proper introduction, after which, the subject is easy to understand. He dealt organic chemistry, which I like, being well organised and logical, like mathematics. The composition of all hydro carbons like methane, ethane etc. can be expressed in a simple formula! Inorganic chemistry is a jungle, while organic chemistry is a well laid garden!
Writing records, especially botany records was a problem, as there was no furniture in the house. (This is true of all namboodiri homes) and I sought special permission from the lecturer for submitting the same afterwards.
The work in the laboratory was interesting. However, I lacked the necessary skill and was often clumsy.
Once I did some experiment with sodium metal, very soft and looking like wax, which is rationed to us when required. After finishing the experiment, I was washing the test tube. As soon as I poured some water from the tap, there was an explosion and the girls cried out terrified! Some quantity of sodium was left behind in the tube, and as I poured water, it reacted immediately to form sodium hydroxide, releasing oxygen gas, which caused the explosion. As in a fire works factory, one has to be very careful.
During titration, I lose patience and drop more solution from the burette, when a single extra drop will vitiate the result.
My cousin (Veembur Bhavadasan) used to say that the chemistry lab. is just a cooking place! He says biology is just drawing animals and plants and cutting them to pieces. Only Physics is science. Mathematicians are intelligent!
Vasu master was our lecturer for physical chemistry. I used to borrow books from him during vacations, as he lived at Thaikatussery, a walkable distance from home. I understand that he is now a big scientist.
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When I was studying in Kerala Varma College, my mother was accommodated in K.P.N uncle’s house, Savithry at my uncle Guptan’s house at Amballur and Devasena at V.B.S’s house at Pazhai. This way I wanted to utilise the money saved for my education. I do not remember whose brain wave it was. May be, I thought of such a scheme; it did not work.
I remember watching mother hurrying to our home at Pazhai, standing on the road side at Kadalasseri centre, totally disorientd, dejected and, instead of escorting mother to Pazhai, I went to my friend Jayanthan’s home, Thekedath kadalayil, situated on the bank of the R. Manaly puzha. I spent the night there.
The scene of my mother walking listlessly and shuffling her feet, sometimes used to haunt me in my dreams. In one dream, after her demise, she was with hair shaved off and oil coming out of her scalp. I shuddered in my dream and sat up cursing my cowardice in facing life. How could I be such a rascal? Why did I not love my own mother?
Sometimes I dream of reaching home at Pazhai and seeing nobody there, worrying where have my people gone?
I think now that the mud house never succeeded in gaining approval of my subconscious mind. It was the first time a namboodiri family lived in such conditions. My brother escaped by becoming a poojari. I was helpless as I had to study.
For some time, mother lived at my cousin’s house with me, to help her after delivery. I felt relief.
Once Jayanthan came there. I took him to see an abandoned rubber plantation at Olarikara. It was quite big. We saw a closed bungalow, with an eerie look. I tried to imagine the busy life which once flourished inside. Every peiod has its end.
I think mother went to look after my father’s first wife Oppolamma, ailing and facing the end, at Kodanatu mana, during the final year of my studies.
When she died I could not stay at Pullai, as we are polluted, for eleven days. I returned home to Pazhai. On the way, I climbed up the hill near the railway station at Pdukad. The view from the summit was really good; but I failed to appreciate it. The uncertainties about my studies haunted me. Was I right in going for degree course without the wherewithal?
I felt demunitive and pitiful. Who cares for me? Will I ever get a job? Why am I putting every one to so much trouble?
I sat for a long time with gloomy thoughts, in the company of evil looking dogs, until the orange western sky called me home.
OPPOLAMMA
If anybody really loved and cared for my mother, it was my father’s first wife!She was wealthy and handsome. My mother was of the same age as her own daughter who was a real beauty.We, my brother and I, used to call her Oppolamma, meaning sister’s mother, as was customary among us. She used to remain in her own home, most of the time, and was something like an occasional visitor.I had no friend in the family, when we were staying at kotticall house, before partition, following the death of my father, I used to remain with the ladies. I used to see Oppolamma reading religious books like Ramayana, the fat book placed on a wooden stand, shaped like an X.She once commented that I would be a hen pecked husband! I was about five years old at that time. I have not seen her talking to my father. Normally, it was rarely that he talked to my mother either, except to give some command or to scold her!Even when we moved to a mud house at Pazhai, she remained with us, during her yearly visit, spending only one or two days with her daughter, my step sister. Her affectin for my mother was so great that she preferred my mother to serve her, when she was bed ridden during her last days. This was when I was studying for B.Sc.When I heard about her end being near, I started for her home near Wadakanchery with petty cash, enough for the bus journey. That was all I had. At that time, I did not know how I was going to raise moey for my next college fee.She told me that her end was near. After spending some time, I bid her final good bye and started to go.She asked me whether I had any money. I emptied my pocket and showed her the coins. She told me to place it at her foot and go round her and prostrate. I did as told, realizing only then, that it is customary to do so, as she was my step mother. I could have easily borrowed money for the return journey from her people in the house, but was too shy to do so and proceeded to Olarikara near Trichur on foot, along the railway track. It was getting dark. Luckily I saw the full moon rising in the eastern sky and enjoyed the whole journey, looking at the landscape in the moonlight and observing the goings on in the villages along the track, an experience we miss normally. When I reached the house of my cousin sister Kali, where I was staying and daily trekking to and from Kerala Varma College, Trichur, a distance of about two miles, all were sleeping soundly. I quietly slipped into my mattress on the floor and went to sleep immediately.
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