My mother’s eldest brother, whom I shall simply call uncle, was of Spartan habits.
At home, he wears a big Kerala style bath towel, hand woven, white and easy to remove water by simply folding it and squeezing the water off by hand.
He never uses soap or the powder of the bark of a tree, called vaka, which was popular in olden days. In this respect, my father too resembled him, but he used to wear big khadi cloth. I have seen my uncle shaving with a blade broken across into two halves.
He will hold one half in his right hand and shave with it, without lathering with soap, and feel the skin with his left hand, because he never looks in a mirror!
He seldom takes tea. Never used tobacco or betel leaves.
He read The Hindu paper. I remember the front page with full advertisement – AYIRAM THALAI VANKI APOORVA CHINTAMANI.
He read ‘Modern Review’ published from Calcutta, and a thick volume THE COW IN INDIA was available there, as he loved the animal.
He hated the communists and the congressmen equally and was in favour of the rule of the King. He hated my mother and her children, except me. He hated his brother named Narayanan and his paternal uncle with whom he had litigation. He never loved his own father. The list is becoming big, but loved his daughter and first son named Neelakathan. The latter became his blind spot and the lives of both proved a tragedy.
His wife, my step sister, was a total contrast. She loved luxury, liked cosmetics and soaps, which she was not allowed to buy. Did she love him?
Uncle was very intelligent and his thinking had originality. He believed that capitalism will wither away, without any bloody revolution, when its utility is over.
He sold his ancestral property and bought forest land. His efforts to grow rice there proved futile. When he was about fifty, he became ill with leukemia. During his end, I served him.
When the dead body was still lying in the hall, I went to console his mother in the next room and was greatly surprised by the outburst of angry words from her about his own son. His treatment of my mother must have pained her all along…..
During the funeral ceremony, his son refused to do his filial duties and I substituted for him.
The day of death coincided with the day Russians spent the first SPUTNIK into space. The day my mother died, Americans landed on the moon!
At home, he wears a big Kerala style bath towel, hand woven, white and easy to remove water by simply folding it and squeezing the water off by hand.
He never uses soap or the powder of the bark of a tree, called vaka, which was popular in olden days. In this respect, my father too resembled him, but he used to wear big khadi cloth. I have seen my uncle shaving with a blade broken across into two halves.
He will hold one half in his right hand and shave with it, without lathering with soap, and feel the skin with his left hand, because he never looks in a mirror!
He seldom takes tea. Never used tobacco or betel leaves.
He read The Hindu paper. I remember the front page with full advertisement – AYIRAM THALAI VANKI APOORVA CHINTAMANI.
He read ‘Modern Review’ published from Calcutta, and a thick volume THE COW IN INDIA was available there, as he loved the animal.
He hated the communists and the congressmen equally and was in favour of the rule of the King. He hated my mother and her children, except me. He hated his brother named Narayanan and his paternal uncle with whom he had litigation. He never loved his own father. The list is becoming big, but loved his daughter and first son named Neelakathan. The latter became his blind spot and the lives of both proved a tragedy.
His wife, my step sister, was a total contrast. She loved luxury, liked cosmetics and soaps, which she was not allowed to buy. Did she love him?
Uncle was very intelligent and his thinking had originality. He believed that capitalism will wither away, without any bloody revolution, when its utility is over.
He sold his ancestral property and bought forest land. His efforts to grow rice there proved futile. When he was about fifty, he became ill with leukemia. During his end, I served him.
When the dead body was still lying in the hall, I went to console his mother in the next room and was greatly surprised by the outburst of angry words from her about his own son. His treatment of my mother must have pained her all along…..
During the funeral ceremony, his son refused to do his filial duties and I substituted for him.
The day of death coincided with the day Russians spent the first SPUTNIK into space. The day my mother died, Americans landed on the moon!
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