Kerala Pride

The admirably handsome former Minister of State Shashi Taroor, who, despite being born and lived outside Kerala, stand for an applause from the proud Malayalees, for holding his head high for Kerala.

The fact that the who is who from Kerala, in spite of holding very powerful ministerial positions in the cabinet could not make a niche worth noticeable for the state and its people, therefore, are the strongest adversaries (jealousy – what else) of the globally acclaimed writer – diplomat who got backing from none other than Kofi Annan for his bold stand. Shashi Tharoor has actually stepped in the shoes of V.K. Krishna Menon, gem of a Malayalee reined in Delhi’s power corridor, notwithstanding the contribution of late Shri K R Narayanan. I have a list of prominent Malayalees in Delhi on top of which is Mr. Prakash Karat, who sails another boat.

Having said this, I do not endorse the controversy, Mr. Tharoor got embroiled in —it was un-matching of his stature — although he made this move for his love for Kerala and the youth of the state in mind. Any how different people think differently. I join (rather intrude) the mass of young Malayalees all over the world in extending an unconditional support to Mr. Shashi Tharoor. In his exit speech as a Minister He quoted Vallathol’s famous lines.

“Bharatham ennu kettal abhimana puritham akanam antharangam, Keralam ennu kettalo thilackanam chora namukku njarampukalil.”

(One should be proud of a mere mention of Bharatam but on hearing the name of Keralam, blood should simmer through the veins)

Let’s join him !
Jai India !
Jai Kerala !

A Different Pilgrimage

Suddenly in January it occurred to me that I must make a trip to Kerala, where I was born sixty years ago. Having said so, I owe a clarification. By virtue of birth I do belong to Kerala, the land Malayalees and others fondly call “God’s own country”. During the last forty years, I have been making sorties to Kottayam and back to Delhi, shuttling between relatives. This time too we visited relatives, but only as a ‘Edathavalam’.(Midway)

It was a cozy Jetlite trip to Nedumbassery, where Lata and Premkumar received us. We were taken to their home ‘Savitri Bhavan’ in Elammkkara. They both and Naryanan Sir(Velliachan) made that evening a warm, memorable one. Nothing to compare the yummy Appam and Fish Stew treat managed by none other than “Satyechi”. Mouth watering Crab curry was a first time delicacy. We thoroughly enjoyed the evening. By opening a scotch, Velliachan made us feel VIPs.

Our next destination was Vagamon, a less popular location, but a princes amongst the hills, Vagamon is approximately 40 kms up Erattupetta. Though we had a plan to make it to the Kurisumala where the stations of cross being held. We could not make it as it consists of an hour’s steep climb. We reluctantly skipped. We visited the pine forest (This did not fascinate us as we are just a month down our visit to Mukteswar). The “Mottakunnu” (Egg shaped mountains) reminded the small mud mounts made of coconut shells in our childhood. There were no trees but grass on the mounts . Is n’t it surprising that in perpetually raining Kerala a natural marvel exists without trees or bushes. Perhaps nature has its plans differently. But that is it. Perhaps the most surprising and scenic place in Vagamon. Another interesting place of visit in Vagamon is the Paultry farm managed by the Franciscan Missionaries. The Swiss breed cows milk the entire valley of Pala, Bharananganam, Erattupetta. The Campus, so meticulously planned, resources and wastes used and reused, and managed for decades was established by a foreigner Franciscan missionary. Management students must make a serious visit to this place to learn things in detail. Bravo, Father, you climbed the hilltop when Vagamon was not heard of by outside world and for making that ‘conversion’. Vagamon still need to be visited. Next time. On our descend, we passed through Bharananganam, but could not alight for “the St.Alphonsa’s” tomb.

Our Good Friday at Kudamaloor was an experience. Nothing has changed. The Neenthu Nercha(crowling on knees) from the Cross (Black stone)till the altar (a quarter Km) continues to attract thousands from far off places as it used to be forty years ago and before. We did not go to any other places in Kottyam, though Kumarakam was only a few miles from my place. Here we visited all the family oldies, some of whom may not be there till our next visit.

Easter was at Punalur, all near and dear ones from Bangalore and Delhi gathered and was a very pleasant day. The four hour holy mass in ‘Malankara rite’ was as if I have had my quota for the whole year. I confess I could not control my nap during the service. Sorry Lord. On Monday after Easter we took a visit oldies mission. Take it from me, we visited six elderly people past their eighties, all women. None of them has her life partner in this world.

Our next destination was Thiruvananthapuram. The most beautiful capital city of all the Indian States (I am serious). Next two days we visited Kovalam and Shankhumukham. Having heard a lot about the beaches, no need to mention we were thrilled. We enjoyed the roaring waves in Shankhumukham and the romantic sands in Kovalam. Kingfisher brought us back in style. The illuminated Bombay (I dare to call) from above sky was marvelous, and another sight of splendid Delhi (my city) again from the Sky was Wow!
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Footnote, Sorry to mention, Kerala, the most advanced Indian state lacks basic human facilites. The state of public lavatories is pathetic, especially Bus Stands, and wherever you may be lucky enough to find one, it hardly has a women’s toilet. Hope the KTDC and ITDC takes care. Untill then, please be prepared.

A Himalayan Memory

It is almost a month now, we have been driven up and down the ‘Almora’ ranges of the mighty Himalaya’s. Credit goes to my SIL, who despite being infected with some mountain bacteria, drove us up the 8500 ft. high and made all arrangements for a memorable two days. The panoramic views we enjoyed of the mighty mountain ranges was absolutely stunning and refreshing. The lines of pine trees recall the rubber grove of Kerala High Ranges. The rubber has diluted the scenic beauty of Kerala country sides, but the Himalaya’s yet manage to sustain. Thank God, for HE has preserved some place for his most loved (so we claim) creatures The beautiful picturesque valleys looked as if they are paintings on a vast canvas created by the most acclaimed artist. The living things like pines, the red mountain flower (no name) the ash coloured (black faced) langur families all so fascinated.

How can we forget the two boys who served us with everything with smile, we inadvertently forgot to click their photos. I have not forgotten to get photographed with ‘Haridas’ err Jagan.

Earlier they, in Delhi, called me a ‘Madrasi’.
Now they call me a ‘Mallu’
Neither ways I am happy
Then I went to the Malayalee welfare
There they advised me for my identity
They sent me to the Christian Quota,
When I reached there
I was directed to the Catholic section
Then, when I reached there, they directed me to identify myself with
Syrian OR Latin
I fell on the Syrian line
Then they segregated me with Syro Malabar & Syro Malankara
I was thrown into the Syro Malabar wing
Then they looked for my badge of Knanaya Or Others
I stood with the Others, then came if I belong to which diocese…

Tired …. I went back to my Origin, where I had friends from all sections… But then

They kept me at a distance with the title “Delhi wallah”

Appanu Kappa Mathi

Here again, another journey through the memory line….

At the outset, let me confess, I might have been more comfortable scripting the below memoir, had IT been in the language of my heart, Malayalam. I know there is Malayalam script in the computer. But if I chose to converse in Malayalam through this media, I would give up midway. So it is better to use the convenient tool. Nevertheless, the fact is that English is a language I adore, advocate others to learn, as I feel English has been, is and will be the language of the millennium.

I recollect a short story, I read in my youth days, which had appeared in a popular Malayalam weekly, I do not remember the name of the author. The given abstract is only an outline of the original story.

The story might have happened in the Meenachil Taluk, near or around Kuravilangadu (Kottayam). The man, fondly called “Appan”(father) by his children, was a farmer. His occupation was ‘Kappa” (Tapioca) cultivation.. Besides Kappa, farmers cultivated Inchi(Ginger), Kachil, Chena, Chempu (All undergrond stems rich with carbohydrate) etc. Rubber was not yet took much root in the Tehsil of Meenachil. Those were the days, small farmers were finding it tough to meet two ends as crops hardly yielded enough revenue for a living.

Appan’ was determined to make his children come up well in life. So, no matter he was hard pressed for cash at times, he sent all his six children to school and college. He was conscious about the tremendous hard work his dear children were to put in to achieve his dream goal. Therefore, Appan was so determined to ensure his children get nutritious and sufficient food, so that all of them remain healthy which in turn will boost their appetite for knowledge and studies.

Given his circumstances, this was a Herculean task to accomplish. But Appan stayed put and refused to give up his dream project.

At times he had to struggle hard to make this great mission possible, so much so, that the daily rice was not enough to serve the entire family. Appan realized this situation of the kitchen, which Ammachi (mother)–his wife– had to face. Appan, therefore, decided to shoulder a part of this burden. He, with the tactic consent of his wife, entered a bad habit. He decided of switching over to “Kappa” for all his meals. Initially children wondered, then Appan convinced them with the statement “Appanu Kappa mathi” (Appan relishes kappa the most).Gradually all his children got used to this phrase and this special liking of their father and stopped bothering him. Only Ammachi was concerned, and used to remind him to go for rice like others in the family. He not only made her agree to his ‘Kappa’ eating habit, but also not to let his children know of this secret covenant. After all, who else, but him, knew the treasury secrets.

Much water has flown through the Meenachil river…..Trees shed leaves and worn new leaves after every major rain, year after year. Even his dear wife adopted to Appan’s habit and it became a phrase at the dining table “Appanu Kappa Mathi..”
Appan’s children grew up, healthy, wealthy and in to respectable positions in life. All of them were well settled in life. Appan felt happy and was satisfied being the proud father of successful children who have made best of their life as envisaged by him.

On a fine day Appan decided to visit his dearest son who was always closer to him the most. The thought got Appan so thrilled and he imagined of the excitement, his son and daughter-in-law would have, on seeing him at their place. His thought was proved to be true. His dear son, daughter-in-law, and grand-children were excited and were overwhelmed with joy seeing Appan, the surprise visitor, standing at his door step. They decided to make it a day of celebration. “Appan” was enthralled and could not control tears of joy. Pleasantries were exchanged. Nostalgic memory lines were opened and it was all fun for all.

The dining table was plentiful with delicacies which Appan has not had for a long time.

He made the prayer with the sign of cross on his forehead, nose + lips and then chest with a murmured gratitude in a few words to the Lord, Our Father, for this day. A true Christian (Sathya Kristhyani) ought to perform this ritual before every meal.

The table was with plentiful delicacies, which Appan was looking forward to and has not had for a long time. But, Appan’s enthusiasm did not last long. His daughter-in-law carefully placed a plate full of “Kappa” before him with a statement “ Appanu Kappa Mathi” ennu Enickariyam” The son was very careful in passing on Appan’s passion for Kappa. The daughter-in-law then proudly and fondly claimed the credit and said. Look Appan, I have not forgotten.

You are right, my daughter; with a concealed pale smile, Appan consumed his delicacy.

A Backward journey

It was years, perhaps decades, more precisely if I sharpen my recollection, it was in the first week of January 1976.

I was a bachelor, went to Kerala for Chinnamony’s marriage. After the marriage I was returning to Delhi. It will be inappropriate, if I do not mention the railway facility those times. There was no Broad-gage beyond Ernakulam down South. So, I boarded the Kollam-Ernakulam metre gauge, which left Kottayam sometime around midnight. My friend late Kuttappan and brother Johny were there to see me off. The following morning (very early morning) I reached Ernakulam (almost 4 – 5 hours) to board ‘Jayanthi Jantha’ -that was the name of the only direct train to Delhi from Cochin.

If I give a minute by minute detail of my journey, it would be really boring. The 2nd Sleeper was filled -over filled -with families (moving along with their Kerala memories like kappa, chakka, ural, ulakka, unakka meen, chakkakuru, etha pazham, and what not) bundled in cartons and jute bags (chaku), girls and boys (marriageable age) also with all the above memories. But a toddlers cry every now and then kept us disturbed, and then th0se days, that kind of noise need not be worth noticeable. The toddler was perhaps less than a year old with her mother, (I am sure it was a girl child), a young lady in mid-twenties was there in one of the six sleeper cabins. The youngsters were enjoying playing with their young companion like a crying toy, which is a pastime during the journey in a 6 footer cabin. After a tiring three full days’ run and the usual Indian railway’s late run, the train creeped into the New Delhi Station(Only Paharganj and no Ajmmere Gate). Time was around 4 or 5 p m. I had only a small carry-bag and a small carton box with which I was going to alight the train. Then I noticed the toddler’s mother peeping through the window looking for someone who was to receive her. She could not carry all the luggage she was carrying with her child in her arms. I offered to help her to take her luggage down. She seemed disturbed as she could not locate her receiver (husband in this case) anywhere near the station. He was a Military personnel located at Bareilly. As I was trying to say good bye to her, the lady almost came to tears and told me, her husband was to come and that she had telegraphed him.She pleaded me to stay on for some more time hoping that her husband might reach her some time. Those days telephone was a luxury and mobile phones were not even heard of. After waiting for almost an hour I asked her If I could help her by accompanying her to the platform where connecting train to Bareilly could be boarded. She hesitated, but helpless, told me she did not have the necessary money also to buy a ticket to Bareilly. I got irked, I too had exhausted all my money. I could not leave that lady with the toddler in the early January in New Delhi Station. So I told her I would go home and come back before the time Bareilly train was to leave. She thought I was also making excuse and escaping. I repeated my promise to come back. She believed it or not. After reaching home, I told the story to Nair who first advised me to ignore and relax. But on my repeated pestering he agreed to accompany me to the station. I could see the glare in the lady’s eyes with relief. I could notice her struggle to control her tears with joy. We bought the ticket for her upto Bareilly. She had taken my address. The Train was so crowded, Nair & me somehow managed to put in the boxesand bags she had carried and placed both mother and child on one of the boxes for their over night (12 hours) journey to Bareilly.

I had almost forgotten the case, but after a month or so (thanks to the Postal Services)I had received Rs.10/- by money order and an inland letter from her husband, thanking me for the help. I have not kept the letter nor do I remember the name of the person.

The girl might be over thirty five/thirty six now, probably married with children, The mother and father settled in Kerala or may be in Delhi.