A Christmas Souvenir
A travelogue is not what I am planning to put down under. This is only a narration of a refreshing experience. Essentially not in sequence.
Duronto Express safely landed us in Ernakulam on 19th December 2011. Pemkumar, Pinchoo and Namita came to receive us at the Ernakulam Junction. After communications with Thomas Francis [1]and tea we set out for the unfinished flat at Kakanad. No, the day did n’t end with that, in between ,we made a side trip up to ‘Jayalakshmi’ from where Swap picked up some silk and cotton sarees and Baby emptied my valet for two maxis. That evening was superb with French Brandy and Vat69 Super-cop treat, to the yummy l Talassery delicacy Star Aappam and fish Moily. A wonderful evening indeed.
Leaving Chakku and family to the pleasure of his grandpa & grandma (Achachan and Achamma) and his Gorgeous, EverGreen Great- Grandpa, the next morning, we headed for Destination next, we boarded a train to Varkala, a small coastal town, now a world famous tourist attraction, midway Kollam and Trivandrum. The environment in a train in Kerala is quite enviable, particularly, if you happened to travel in the North. The journey was a joy, despite our ongoing arguments on silly matters quite normal between us. I had a temptation to get down at Kottayam once the train reached Ettumanoor. My Kudamaloor is an arm’s-length from Kumaranallur. But, for the first time in forty one years I suppressed my temptation and passed by my home town without embarking there. Notably it was also my first train journey down South of Kottayam.
We had no idea about the place and the facilities awaiting us there. Nitin’s friend Rajesh, who is the General Manager of ‘Krishna Theeram’ came personally at the Varkala Railway Station to receive us. But on landing, not even for a moment, we felt out of place. Nitin had arranged accommodation in “Krishna Theeram”, a resort with clusters of moderately furnished huts spread across a sprawling land. Facing the sea, our one room hut opened to the horizon of the blue seas. On seeing the vast sea in front of us we all immediately transformed ourselves in to the Richard Brandson mode. There are ‘hammocks’ tied to Coconut Palms to hang on and swing. The absence of a TV in the room scarcely perturbed our moments. The very first evening itself we took time out to ascend the cliff top through the un-tarred, neatly laid walk- way where make shift shops of tourist attractions on one side and the vast Arabian sea waves break and splinter on the rocks down the bottom of the cliff. As sun set in the west, Diwali like illuminations appeared in the western horizon, which we learnt is that of numerous fishing boats out in the sea for their catch. The ‘Dhabas’ run by North Easterners offered variety of fresh fish displayed for tourists to get it cooked to order. We had a portion of salmon, four squids, four tiger prawns and six silver prawns got roasted with a bottle of beer each. That was the third evening.
The mornings of 21st and 22nd were spent at Ayurvedic clinic for a refreshing oil massage . Swapna was found lost in the mornings and evenings playing with and between the waves. Baby and me too joined her one evening to get beaten and wet by the waves. We also went upto the fisher men’ s cove close to the beach in the morning where silvery fishes still fluttering were being plucked out of the net. The two beaches, one a private one for tourists near “Krishna Theeram” and the wider “Papanasam” beach, both had big crowds of the global community floating, merry making in the loud splashing waves of Arabian Sea, come what time of the day. The white men and women flocked to the shores to get wet in the salty water and lie almost bare from top to bottom in the sand in order to get a sun bath. Though very challenging moments were before me to keep my eyes out of the robe-less women from far away countries, it was commendable on the part of these people who bare and dare the waves of The Arabian sea and immerse into it as if they are on a game of football back home. Children also joined them swimming, floating and cutting through the waves and none of them ever seen with an iota of shyness in appearing in the outfit they felt comfortable with. This attitude may perhaps, be the reason that they are ahead of us in many areas.
After a refurbishing three nights and four days in the shores of Varka, we left for Punalur. We had the lavish Christmas lunch and dinner a day in advance. In the evening, we went out to the Punalur town to have a glimpse of the stunning - Punalur Hanging bridge –(thookkupalam in local dialet). I took a few snaps of the engineering marvel. Swap was uncomfortable of the glances shot from the Punalur locals for whom any one differently dressed is a curiosity. I got a nice dressing which swirled away with buff curry and fish in the brandy the evening.
24th morning we headed to Kottayam, Chakku and family had already landed in Punalur by late night on 23rd. At Changanassery, there was a diversion for a by-pass to Kottayam, but finding the by-pass not very smooth, took a short cut to reach the MC road again and at Kodimatha we halted for lunch at Windsor Castle, a new luxury hotel built on the Kodimathat Chira, They offered Buffet lunch with duck mappas, meen karri, buff and pork, kappa, appam, rice and other veg items at a price of four hundred chips per person. Then, there was a halt see Mother. My mother and Mother Mary at Kudamaloor Church. Chakku and all of us had a few snaps with Ammachi (available in face book).
Back to Ernakulam, we rested at YMCA- a dry place. On the morning of Christmas we had a Buffet B/F from Abad, then set out for the Vallarpadam shrine of Mother Mary, a long time cherish accomplished. Then we headed to see the Dutch Palace, now ITDC’s ‘Bolghaty Palace’ where we had coffee, courtesy Nitin’s friend Aneesh. Aneesh arranged a speed boat in which we made a voyage in the back waters of Kochi. An hour sailing in the Vembanad Kayal, till the mouth of the sea, we had glimpses of Ernakulam Town, Kochi, Wellington Island, Vypin Island, an Entering Ship, another ship offloading at the Port. No matter, the trip was a really brilliant idea and paid off well. (Snaps were taken, available in face book.)
Evening, we checked out of YMCA and boarded a train to Trichur for attending the Baptism of Thomas Francis. We were put in the “Regency Club” where “Pranchiyettan” the famous Mammootty film was shot. That evening with Royal stag, pork and chicken we concluded Christmas of 2011 in Poolside of Regency.
26th was the Baptism. At the ‘ Nadathara’ St. Mary’s Church Thomas Francis was sacramented to enter the Holy sea, the Kingdom of the Roman Catholic Church. Priest in his sermon, pronounced, Thomas Francis having undergone three sacraments, knowing well of Baptism, but unclear of the other two, though vaguely heard – Confirmation – a sacrament, normally applies after Communion and Confession, unheard till then, tradition may have changed, we kept on wondering and arguing about the additional two sacraments. Anyways our confusion vanished with the lovely lunch rich with Pork, Buff, Chicken fry, fish curry and variety of other veg items and ice-creams.
After lunch Baby and me checked out of ‘Regency’ for Ernakulam for another stint with the YMCA and the next day of 27th to fly back to Delhi by Jetlite. Our 26th December dinner at the famous ‘Grant’ was not so grant. Chakku & Co arrived by Air India Maharaja, carelessly losing a packet of carefully packed ‘Palaharams’ somewhere en-route, arrived late in the night. Soon it was New year with a bang!
[1] Thomas Francis, a Australian National, would be getting Baptised on 26th December at his Ammachi’s abode .
Friday, January 6, 2012
A Christmas Souvenir
A travelogue is not what I am planning to put down under. This is only a narration of a refreshing experience. Essentially not in sequence.
Duronto Express safely landed us in Ernakulam on 19th December 2011. Pemkumar, Pinchoo and Namita came to receive us at the Ernakulam Junction. After communications with Thomas Francis [1]and tea we set out for the unfinished flat at Kakanad. No, the day did n’t end with that, in between ,we made a side trip up to ‘Jayalakshmi’ from where Swap picked up some silk and cotton sarees and Baby emptied my valet for two maxis. That evening was superb with French Brandy and Vat69 Super-cop treat, to the yummy l Talassery delicacy Star Aappam and fish Moily. A wonderful evening indeed.
Leaving Chakku and family to the pleasure of his grandpa & grandma (Achachan and Achamma) and his Gorgeous, EverGreen Great- Grandpa, the next morning, we headed for Destination next, we boarded a train to Varkala, a small coastal town, now a world famous tourist attraction, midway Kollam and Trivandrum. The environment in a train in Kerala is quite enviable, particularly, if you happened to travel in the North. The journey was a joy, despite our ongoing arguments on silly matters quite normal between us. I had a temptation to get down at Kottayam once the train reached Ettumanoor. My Kudamaloor is an arm’s-length from Kumaranallur. But, for the first time in forty one years I suppressed my temptation and passed by my home town without embarking there. Notably it was also my first train journey down South of Kottayam.
We had no idea about the place and the facilities awaiting us there. Nitin’s friend Rajesh, who is the General Manager of ‘Krishna Theeram’ came personally at the Varkala Railway Station to receive us. But on landing, not even for a moment, we felt out of place. Nitin had arranged accommodation in “Krishna Theeram”, a resort with clusters of moderately furnished huts spread across a sprawling land. Facing the sea, our one room hut opened to the horizon of the blue seas. On seeing the vast sea in front of us we all immediately transformed ourselves in to the Richard Brandson mode. There are ‘hammocks’ tied to Coconut Palms to hang on and swing. The absence of a TV in the room scarcely perturbed our moments. The very first evening itself we took time out to ascend the cliff top through the un-tarred, neatly laid walk- way where make shift shops of tourist attractions on one side and the vast Arabian sea waves break and splinter on the rocks down the bottom of the cliff. As sun set in the west, Diwali like illuminations appeared in the western horizon, which we learnt is that of numerous fishing boats out in the sea for their catch. The ‘Dhabas’ run by North Easterners offered variety of fresh fish displayed for tourists to get it cooked to order. We had a portion of salmon, four squids, four tiger prawns and six silver prawns got roasted with a bottle of beer each. That was the third evening.
The mornings of 21st and 22nd were spent at Ayurvedic clinic for a refreshing oil massage . Swapna was found lost in the mornings and evenings playing with and between the waves. Baby and me too joined her one evening to get beaten and wet by the waves. We also went upto the fisher men’ s cove close to the beach in the morning where silvery fishes still fluttering were being plucked out of the net. The two beaches, one a private one for tourists near “Krishna Theeram” and the wider “Papanasam” beach, both had big crowds of the global community floating, merry making in the loud splashing waves of Arabian Sea, come what time of the day. The white men and women flocked to the shores to get wet in the salty water and lie almost bare from top to bottom in the sand in order to get a sun bath. Though very challenging moments were before me to keep my eyes out of the robe-less women from far away countries, it was commendable on the part of these people who bare and dare the waves of The Arabian sea and immerse into it as if they are on a game of football back home. Children also joined them swimming, floating and cutting through the waves and none of them ever seen with an iota of shyness in appearing in the outfit they felt comfortable with. This attitude may perhaps, be the reason that they are ahead of us in many areas.
After a refurbishing three nights and four days in the shores of Varka, we left for Punalur. We had the lavish Christmas lunch and dinner a day in advance. In the evening, we went out to the Punalur town to have a glimpse of the stunning - Punalur Hanging bridge –(thookkupalam in local dialet). I took a few snaps of the engineering marvel. Swap was uncomfortable of the glances shot from the Punalur locals for whom any one differently dressed is a curiosity. I got a nice dressing which swirled away with buff curry and fish in the brandy the evening.
24th morning we headed to Kottayam, Chakku and family had already landed in Punalur by late night on 23rd. At Changanassery, there was a diversion for a by-pass to Kottayam, but finding the by-pass not very smooth, took a short cut to reach the MC road again and at Kodimatha we halted for lunch at Windsor Castle, a new luxury hotel built on the Kodimathat Chira, They offered Buffet lunch with duck mappas, meen karri, buff and pork, kappa, appam, rice and other veg items at a price of four hundred chips per person. Then, there was a halt see Mother. My mother and Mother Mary at Kudamaloor Church. Chakku and all of us had a few snaps with Ammachi (available in face book).
Back to Ernakulam, we rested at YMCA- a dry place. On the morning of Christmas we had a Buffet B/F from Abad, then set out for the Vallarpadam shrine of Mother Mary, a long time cherish accomplished. Then we headed to see the Dutch Palace, now ITDC’s ‘Bolghaty Palace’ where we had coffee, courtesy Nitin’s friend Aneesh. Aneesh arranged a speed boat in which we made a voyage in the back waters of Kochi. An hour sailing in the Vembanad Kayal, till the mouth of the sea, we had glimpses of Ernakulam Town, Kochi, Wellington Island, Vypin Island, an Entering Ship, another ship offloading at the Port. No matter, the trip was a really brilliant idea and paid off well. (Snaps were taken, available in face book.)
Evening, we checked out of YMCA and boarded a train to Trichur for attending the Baptism of Thomas Francis. We were put in the “Regency Club” where “Pranchiyettan” the famous Mammootty film was shot. That evening with Royal stag, pork and chicken we concluded Christmas of 2011 in Poolside of Regency.
26th was the Baptism. At the ‘ Nadathara’ St. Mary’s Church Thomas Francis was sacramented to enter the Holy sea, the Kingdom of the Roman Catholic Church. Priest in his sermon, pronounced, Thomas Francis having undergone three sacraments, knowing well of Baptism, but unclear of the other two, though vaguely heard – Confirmation – a sacrament, normally applies after Communion and Confession, unheard till then, tradition may have changed, we kept on wondering and arguing about the additional two sacraments. Anyways our confusion vanished with the lovely lunch rich with Pork, Buff, Chicken fry, fish curry and variety of other veg items and ice-creams.
After lunch Baby and me checked out of ‘Regency’ for Ernakulam for another stint with the YMCA and the next day of 27th to fly back to Delhi by Jetlite. Our 26th December dinner at the famous ‘Grant’ was not so grant. Chakku & Co arrived by Air India Maharaja, carelessly losing a packet of carefully packed ‘Palaharams’ somewhere en-route, arrived late in the night. Soon it was New year with a bang!
[1] Thomas Francis, a Australian National, would be getting Baptised on 26th December at his Ammachi’s abode .
A travelogue is not what I am planning to put down under. This is only a narration of a refreshing experience. Essentially not in sequence.
Duronto Express safely landed us in Ernakulam on 19th December 2011. Pemkumar, Pinchoo and Namita came to receive us at the Ernakulam Junction. After communications with Thomas Francis [1]and tea we set out for the unfinished flat at Kakanad. No, the day did n’t end with that, in between ,we made a side trip up to ‘Jayalakshmi’ from where Swap picked up some silk and cotton sarees and Baby emptied my valet for two maxis. That evening was superb with French Brandy and Vat69 Super-cop treat, to the yummy l Talassery delicacy Star Aappam and fish Moily. A wonderful evening indeed.
Leaving Chakku and family to the pleasure of his grandpa & grandma (Achachan and Achamma) and his Gorgeous, EverGreen Great- Grandpa, the next morning, we headed for Destination next, we boarded a train to Varkala, a small coastal town, now a world famous tourist attraction, midway Kollam and Trivandrum. The environment in a train in Kerala is quite enviable, particularly, if you happened to travel in the North. The journey was a joy, despite our ongoing arguments on silly matters quite normal between us. I had a temptation to get down at Kottayam once the train reached Ettumanoor. My Kudamaloor is an arm’s-length from Kumaranallur. But, for the first time in forty one years I suppressed my temptation and passed by my home town without embarking there. Notably it was also my first train journey down South of Kottayam.
We had no idea about the place and the facilities awaiting us there. Nitin’s friend Rajesh, who is the General Manager of ‘Krishna Theeram’ came personally at the Varkala Railway Station to receive us. But on landing, not even for a moment, we felt out of place. Nitin had arranged accommodation in “Krishna Theeram”, a resort with clusters of moderately furnished huts spread across a sprawling land. Facing the sea, our one room hut opened to the horizon of the blue seas. On seeing the vast sea in front of us we all immediately transformed ourselves in to the Richard Brandson mode. There are ‘hammocks’ tied to Coconut Palms to hang on and swing. The absence of a TV in the room scarcely perturbed our moments. The very first evening itself we took time out to ascend the cliff top through the un-tarred, neatly laid walk- way where make shift shops of tourist attractions on one side and the vast Arabian sea waves break and splinter on the rocks down the bottom of the cliff. As sun set in the west, Diwali like illuminations appeared in the western horizon, which we learnt is that of numerous fishing boats out in the sea for their catch. The ‘Dhabas’ run by North Easterners offered variety of fresh fish displayed for tourists to get it cooked to order. We had a portion of salmon, four squids, four tiger prawns and six silver prawns got roasted with a bottle of beer each. That was the third evening.
The mornings of 21st and 22nd were spent at Ayurvedic clinic for a refreshing oil massage . Swapna was found lost in the mornings and evenings playing with and between the waves. Baby and me too joined her one evening to get beaten and wet by the waves. We also went upto the fisher men’ s cove close to the beach in the morning where silvery fishes still fluttering were being plucked out of the net. The two beaches, one a private one for tourists near “Krishna Theeram” and the wider “Papanasam” beach, both had big crowds of the global community floating, merry making in the loud splashing waves of Arabian Sea, come what time of the day. The white men and women flocked to the shores to get wet in the salty water and lie almost bare from top to bottom in the sand in order to get a sun bath. Though very challenging moments were before me to keep my eyes out of the robe-less women from far away countries, it was commendable on the part of these people who bare and dare the waves of The Arabian sea and immerse into it as if they are on a game of football back home. Children also joined them swimming, floating and cutting through the waves and none of them ever seen with an iota of shyness in appearing in the outfit they felt comfortable with. This attitude may perhaps, be the reason that they are ahead of us in many areas.
After a refurbishing three nights and four days in the shores of Varka, we left for Punalur. We had the lavish Christmas lunch and dinner a day in advance. In the evening, we went out to the Punalur town to have a glimpse of the stunning - Punalur Hanging bridge –(thookkupalam in local dialet). I took a few snaps of the engineering marvel. Swap was uncomfortable of the glances shot from the Punalur locals for whom any one differently dressed is a curiosity. I got a nice dressing which swirled away with buff curry and fish in the brandy the evening.
24th morning we headed to Kottayam, Chakku and family had already landed in Punalur by late night on 23rd. At Changanassery, there was a diversion for a by-pass to Kottayam, but finding the by-pass not very smooth, took a short cut to reach the MC road again and at Kodimatha we halted for lunch at Windsor Castle, a new luxury hotel built on the Kodimathat Chira, They offered Buffet lunch with duck mappas, meen karri, buff and pork, kappa, appam, rice and other veg items at a price of four hundred chips per person. Then, there was a halt see Mother. My mother and Mother Mary at Kudamaloor Church. Chakku and all of us had a few snaps with Ammachi (available in face book).
Back to Ernakulam, we rested at YMCA- a dry place. On the morning of Christmas we had a Buffet B/F from Abad, then set out for the Vallarpadam shrine of Mother Mary, a long time cherish accomplished. Then we headed to see the Dutch Palace, now ITDC’s ‘Bolghaty Palace’ where we had coffee, courtesy Nitin’s friend Aneesh. Aneesh arranged a speed boat in which we made a voyage in the back waters of Kochi. An hour sailing in the Vembanad Kayal, till the mouth of the sea, we had glimpses of Ernakulam Town, Kochi, Wellington Island, Vypin Island, an Entering Ship, another ship offloading at the Port. No matter, the trip was a really brilliant idea and paid off well. (Snaps were taken, available in face book.)
Evening, we checked out of YMCA and boarded a train to Trichur for attending the Baptism of Thomas Francis. We were put in the “Regency Club” where “Pranchiyettan” the famous Mammootty film was shot. That evening with Royal stag, pork and chicken we concluded Christmas of 2011 in Poolside of Regency.
26th was the Baptism. At the ‘ Nadathara’ St. Mary’s Church Thomas Francis was sacramented to enter the Holy sea, the Kingdom of the Roman Catholic Church. Priest in his sermon, pronounced, Thomas Francis having undergone three sacraments, knowing well of Baptism, but unclear of the other two, though vaguely heard – Confirmation – a sacrament, normally applies after Communion and Confession, unheard till then, tradition may have changed, we kept on wondering and arguing about the additional two sacraments. Anyways our confusion vanished with the lovely lunch rich with Pork, Buff, Chicken fry, fish curry and variety of other veg items and ice-creams.
After lunch Baby and me checked out of ‘Regency’ for Ernakulam for another stint with the YMCA and the next day of 27th to fly back to Delhi by Jetlite. Our 26th December dinner at the famous ‘Grant’ was not so grant. Chakku & Co arrived by Air India Maharaja, carelessly losing a packet of carefully packed ‘Palaharams’ somewhere en-route, arrived late in the night. Soon it was New year with a bang!
[1] Thomas Francis, a Australian National, would be getting Baptised on 26th December at his Ammachi’s abode .
Thursday, December 29, 2011
I make up and down trips in the Airport Metro on almost every working day. After the Aero-City station, the train suddenly enter the elevated section of the railway, I raise my chin from the pages of India Today / The week in expectation of something new in the opened up horizon. Each time I observe something new on either side of the rail-way. It is like a panoramic canvas with myriad colours changing images every day. sometimes it is a parade of puffy capped soldiers,(the area being the Cantonment) in the lawns of one of the Defence buildings, or herds of village women squatting in circles preparing dung cakes in the open grounds, green spinaches and blossoming Mushrooms, gazing buffaloes, besides the ever flowing fleets of swanky cars, smart red and green DTC buses on either side of the metro; all add to the canvas every day. The beauty of the canvas is eye catching when the train pass through the ridge where the leafy tree tops along the ridge looks like flowing mounds of green clouds. Lucky if you find a monkey family feeding on a shoot of the tree on a sunny day. New Delhi is celebrating its centenary, I am entering my forty second year of Delhi life and am very fortunate to be alive to see the changing colours of this Cosmopolis. Malls apart, noticeable advancement is its transportation systems. There were times when I had to wait for hours to board a DTC bus with passengers flocking inside, roof top, and clinging on all protruding parts of the dull and poorly maintained DTC. The plight of the ever-crowded bus reminded of a monster eating sacks from the rear and vomiting the same from the front, each time it stops. That was it. Many Delhi Babus have struggled their ways making it to the North Block, Patel Chowk, CP , Daryaganj, Okhla etc..etc.. when there was no AC bus, No Metro rail, leave alone Airport Metro. Few of my contemporary Babus retired to rest after a long spell of wrestling and yelling in the Delhi roads to catch a DTC in order to reach places. All things are bygones. Now, Delhi’s roads carry smart Air conditioned buses with obliging drivers and conductors. Not to mention the praise worthy Metro. A sad news the man who changed the face of Delhi is retiring to his humble hamlet in Kerala. No one, it seems, has suggested a ‘Bharat Ratna’ though all cry for the same for Sachin and Bachan OR even Ishwarya’s new born unseen daughter are hot in the air.
This week end we are proceeding to Kerala. This Christmas will be in Kerala. Will have lots of Starry trees next time.
This week end we are proceeding to Kerala. This Christmas will be in Kerala. Will have lots of Starry trees next time.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Chirikkatha Malayalee
Watching the in-house audience of Malayalam reality shows I sometimes wonder, why are they there? Majority of them are motionless and still with a blank look, as if they are attending a holy mass in some alien language. I sincerely feel the TV men should outsource viewers from Chennai OR Mumbai, but no Malayalees, please!
You know, we Malayalees seriously think there is a tax if we are loud. You can watch a Malayalam TV program where audience sitting numb over the VJ or a celebrity on stage deliver a word or two in a lighter tone. You know we Malayalees find something wrong in every thing. That is why we blog, tweet and hate Ranjitha Haridas’ Manglish. We Malayalees can not stand another Malayalee speaking Queens toungue, OR atleast we think, can’t Ranjitha pronounce the way we Malayalees speak, why imitate the Queen. Rubbish. You know, Deedi, I mean usha Uthup, literally inflame the audience of Kolkotta and \
umbai, but you know her efforts to induce the Malayalee audience miserably failed her.
A few decade back Comedian Mehmood depicted the face of an average malayalee. His mimic of a Malayalee resembled someone after biting ‘khatta imli” Nammude Valan puliye… That was not the television era, so it was a clip in the “Illustrated Weekly of India”. A hurt Malayalee, I could not control my anger on Mehmood on that. I do not know when and what incident provoked Mehmood to create such a mime. But I knew in my heart of heart, and have personal experience too that Malayalees at random see it as a risk to smile at an acquaintance for some fear.
On a recent visit to Kerala, I happened to pass through a house of one of my childhood friend, a classmate for decade. He (not smiling) stayed put in his Muttam and chatted,— Enna Undu Vishesham, Enna Vanne, Enna Pokunne, blah! blah! over ! — with me from his court yard, but there was no gesture to invite me home. On the other hand, whenever, even an acquaintance visit Delhi, I have not hesitated to receive them and be a reasonable host.
An old friend of mine carry Mehmood’s mime face, that of a imli eating Malayalee. He is a miser at home, not only for money but for smile too. He strongly believed, his friendly deal with his only son would spoil the child. It was so! The boy longed for love, care and understating from his father, but it was not so. He lost his only child. How? What happened? It’s OK, it’s a tragedy.
You know, we Malayalees seriously think there is a tax if we are loud. You can watch a Malayalam TV program where audience sitting numb over the VJ or a celebrity on stage deliver a word or two in a lighter tone. You know we Malayalees find something wrong in every thing. That is why we blog, tweet and hate Ranjitha Haridas’ Manglish. We Malayalees can not stand another Malayalee speaking Queens toungue, OR atleast we think, can’t Ranjitha pronounce the way we Malayalees speak, why imitate the Queen. Rubbish. You know, Deedi, I mean usha Uthup, literally inflame the audience of Kolkotta and \
umbai, but you know her efforts to induce the Malayalee audience miserably failed her.
A few decade back Comedian Mehmood depicted the face of an average malayalee. His mimic of a Malayalee resembled someone after biting ‘khatta imli” Nammude Valan puliye… That was not the television era, so it was a clip in the “Illustrated Weekly of India”. A hurt Malayalee, I could not control my anger on Mehmood on that. I do not know when and what incident provoked Mehmood to create such a mime. But I knew in my heart of heart, and have personal experience too that Malayalees at random see it as a risk to smile at an acquaintance for some fear.
On a recent visit to Kerala, I happened to pass through a house of one of my childhood friend, a classmate for decade. He (not smiling) stayed put in his Muttam and chatted,— Enna Undu Vishesham, Enna Vanne, Enna Pokunne, blah! blah! over ! — with me from his court yard, but there was no gesture to invite me home. On the other hand, whenever, even an acquaintance visit Delhi, I have not hesitated to receive them and be a reasonable host.
An old friend of mine carry Mehmood’s mime face, that of a imli eating Malayalee. He is a miser at home, not only for money but for smile too. He strongly believed, his friendly deal with his only son would spoil the child. It was so! The boy longed for love, care and understating from his father, but it was not so. He lost his only child. How? What happened? It’s OK, it’s a tragedy.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Oru Swapna Veedu
You may think why I blog on such irrelevant subjects which has very little relevance whatsoever. But my dear, this has my own aspirations and desires fulfilled and unfulfilled, so let it be there.
In the beginning there was One Madrasi, One Madrasi brought another one, then another one, then a generation, generations and now stands at the gene of Mallu which is a beautification of Malayalee derived from the species of Madrasi. Ooomph! Let me take a glass of water.
Earlier the Malayalee life existed from One Onam to the next Onam. OR you can put it this way, one Nattilpokku to the next. Good number of men, married and unmarried, lived ‘ bachelors’ in rented ‘rooms’ those days, wife and kids back in Kerala. Mobile phone, not yet born STD calls very costly, the only link with the dear and near ones was the blue coloured ‘inland letter’ weekly update.
I am talking about the period before the emergence of the term ‘Mallu’. In fact, ‘Madrasi” was the term Vadakkans in Delhi used to refer to us—Malayalees. Malayalee men who could not make it to Air Force, Army and CRP in that order were flowing to Delhi for a living. They had already made their presence felt in the Jute Mills of Calcutta, The Cloth Mills of Bombay and the Auto Industry in Chennai. Women from Kerala, spread to the North and everywhere in the Health Sector. Catholic Priests and Nuns were already there with their education and health care mission.
A house made of dream
Bhaskaran Master landed in Delhi in the sixties. A under literate, Bhaskaran left Payyannur, with the sole purpose of having three full meals for himself and Vayaru Niray Bhakshnam for folks back home, then the ‘God’s most neglected country’.
Bhaskaran could find a job in a “Kerala Hotel”. A Dhaba owned and operated by another Malayalee, who put his foot at the Paharganj Side a decade or two ago. “Kerala Hotel”. was situated near the then ‘Hindustan Times Block” in the outer circle (opposite Statesman). This ensured Bhaskaran three full meals a day for a dawn to dusk job. Bhaskaran’s job in the “Hotel” and his hunt for better pastures continued side by side.
Through a regular Dosa Sambar customer, Bhaskaran got a ‘decent’ job in a Multinational company near CP. A peon in a Multinational was a lucrative job those days. Good salary and bonus, Bhaskaran used to earn over- time and conveyance as extra income from the job.
Soon, Bhaskaran bought a Bicycle and took a room on rent in Lakshmi Nagar for residence. The Cycle remain with Bhaskaran throughout his Jeevitha Yathra. There was a story going around those days about one of Bhaskaran’s adventures.
Oru Avadhikku Nattil pokan,
Bhaskaran could not get a birth in any of the south bound trains. He packed his ‘Petty’ with necessary items and bound it on the carrier behind the Bicycle, and pedalled the three thousand miles (5000 kms) through the Chambal kadukalum, Vidhya Malakalum, Kadum, Nadikalum, Kattu jevevikalum. On the28th day he reached Payyannur. By then his PL got over. The next day morning he along with his cycle boarded a train from Kerala and landed back in Delhi.
Edakkalathu Enno
Bhaskaran got married. He had four kids during his journey, all girls.
Bhaskaran’s acutely needed more space to live in. He dreamed of having a house, that would be his own, his Swapna Veedu.. Bhaskaran, managed a 100 yard plot in Lakshmi Nagar, then a catchment of Yamuna, and started his house building. He constructed a single room and kitchen, then another room and a floor above were added one by one. He built his Swapna Veedu – Dream House brick by brick. Much of the house building work was Bhaskaran’s on. He seldom depended on an outsider for white washing and painting his house. All he did himself. He loved his house as one of his daughters.
He saved on his meals and clothes. (Bhaskaran was never shy in his outfit the ‘Official Khaki’ that was the identity of a peon those days). Khaki clad Bhaskaran, his bi-cycle and the house became one in as much that each one existed for the other.
Before coming to conclude Bhaskaran saga, let me peep through another old timer Malayalee’s life.
Devassy disembarked GT Express at the Paharganj side . He was a Matriculate with a “Type and Short hand” Upper Certificate(Then Type writing/short hand was a highly sought after technical qualification with Lower level and Upper level exams conducted by state authorities for a certificate). “HR” was not a familiar term those days. Various Company agents waited at the Railways station to tap the qualified, English Speaking “Madrasis” for the ‘Steno’s job. By one of such act, Deveassy could also place himself behind a “Halda” type writer in one of the many large “holes’ in CP. Devassy later on underwent a UPSC test and got a job in the North Block and become a Central Govt employee. A “Steno Typist” to be precise.
A year after, when Devassy visited village with a new status- a “Kendra Sarkar jolikkaran”- a very valued profile. His marriage happened in the village with a reasonable(?) and attractive ‘Sthree dhanam”. Devassy’s Father was kind enough to allow Devassy to utilize his dowry for a cause. So he bought a piece of land in the Western side of Delhi for 5000 rupees. Devassy took a loan and added to all his savings, started building a house. He could then move out of his Sarojini nagar sub-let one room-accommodation to the West Delhi pocket. Devassy built a reasonably big house. Years passed by and his family grew bigger by the size. He was an ardent believer, so, in spite of scarce DTC service, and the nearby Church being the Sacred Heart Cathedral, Devassy seldom commit a deadly sin missing Sunday Mass, without sufficient reason. Though very often, he failed take Thresia, his wife and children for their inability to get ready on time.
Much water has passed through Yamuna. Devassy retired and become a full time evangelist and presented himself for the Charismatic works of the Church. His children also grew up and settled in life.
A few years back Bhaskaran died. He had married off all his four daughters. They all were settled separately. its heard from a reliable source that Bhaskaran’s daughters unitedly deciced to sell off Bhaskaran’s Swapna veedu and divided the booty amongst them.
In the case of Devassy, he can not walk without the help of a stick now. His vision poor, his church activities also become difficult these days. In fact Devassy is now living with one of his children.
His children are finding the old house of no much use.
Swapna Veedu polum thakarnnu veezhan oru jeevitha kalam mathi !
In the beginning there was One Madrasi, One Madrasi brought another one, then another one, then a generation, generations and now stands at the gene of Mallu which is a beautification of Malayalee derived from the species of Madrasi. Ooomph! Let me take a glass of water.
Earlier the Malayalee life existed from One Onam to the next Onam. OR you can put it this way, one Nattilpokku to the next. Good number of men, married and unmarried, lived ‘ bachelors’ in rented ‘rooms’ those days, wife and kids back in Kerala. Mobile phone, not yet born STD calls very costly, the only link with the dear and near ones was the blue coloured ‘inland letter’ weekly update.
I am talking about the period before the emergence of the term ‘Mallu’. In fact, ‘Madrasi” was the term Vadakkans in Delhi used to refer to us—Malayalees. Malayalee men who could not make it to Air Force, Army and CRP in that order were flowing to Delhi for a living. They had already made their presence felt in the Jute Mills of Calcutta, The Cloth Mills of Bombay and the Auto Industry in Chennai. Women from Kerala, spread to the North and everywhere in the Health Sector. Catholic Priests and Nuns were already there with their education and health care mission.
A house made of dream
Bhaskaran Master landed in Delhi in the sixties. A under literate, Bhaskaran left Payyannur, with the sole purpose of having three full meals for himself and Vayaru Niray Bhakshnam for folks back home, then the ‘God’s most neglected country’.
Bhaskaran could find a job in a “Kerala Hotel”. A Dhaba owned and operated by another Malayalee, who put his foot at the Paharganj Side a decade or two ago. “Kerala Hotel”. was situated near the then ‘Hindustan Times Block” in the outer circle (opposite Statesman). This ensured Bhaskaran three full meals a day for a dawn to dusk job. Bhaskaran’s job in the “Hotel” and his hunt for better pastures continued side by side.
Through a regular Dosa Sambar customer, Bhaskaran got a ‘decent’ job in a Multinational company near CP. A peon in a Multinational was a lucrative job those days. Good salary and bonus, Bhaskaran used to earn over- time and conveyance as extra income from the job.
Soon, Bhaskaran bought a Bicycle and took a room on rent in Lakshmi Nagar for residence. The Cycle remain with Bhaskaran throughout his Jeevitha Yathra. There was a story going around those days about one of Bhaskaran’s adventures.
Oru Avadhikku Nattil pokan,
Bhaskaran could not get a birth in any of the south bound trains. He packed his ‘Petty’ with necessary items and bound it on the carrier behind the Bicycle, and pedalled the three thousand miles (5000 kms) through the Chambal kadukalum, Vidhya Malakalum, Kadum, Nadikalum, Kattu jevevikalum. On the28th day he reached Payyannur. By then his PL got over. The next day morning he along with his cycle boarded a train from Kerala and landed back in Delhi.
Edakkalathu Enno
Bhaskaran got married. He had four kids during his journey, all girls.
Bhaskaran’s acutely needed more space to live in. He dreamed of having a house, that would be his own, his Swapna Veedu.. Bhaskaran, managed a 100 yard plot in Lakshmi Nagar, then a catchment of Yamuna, and started his house building. He constructed a single room and kitchen, then another room and a floor above were added one by one. He built his Swapna Veedu – Dream House brick by brick. Much of the house building work was Bhaskaran’s on. He seldom depended on an outsider for white washing and painting his house. All he did himself. He loved his house as one of his daughters.
He saved on his meals and clothes. (Bhaskaran was never shy in his outfit the ‘Official Khaki’ that was the identity of a peon those days). Khaki clad Bhaskaran, his bi-cycle and the house became one in as much that each one existed for the other.
Before coming to conclude Bhaskaran saga, let me peep through another old timer Malayalee’s life.
Devassy disembarked GT Express at the Paharganj side . He was a Matriculate with a “Type and Short hand” Upper Certificate(Then Type writing/short hand was a highly sought after technical qualification with Lower level and Upper level exams conducted by state authorities for a certificate). “HR” was not a familiar term those days. Various Company agents waited at the Railways station to tap the qualified, English Speaking “Madrasis” for the ‘Steno’s job. By one of such act, Deveassy could also place himself behind a “Halda” type writer in one of the many large “holes’ in CP. Devassy later on underwent a UPSC test and got a job in the North Block and become a Central Govt employee. A “Steno Typist” to be precise.
A year after, when Devassy visited village with a new status- a “Kendra Sarkar jolikkaran”- a very valued profile. His marriage happened in the village with a reasonable(?) and attractive ‘Sthree dhanam”. Devassy’s Father was kind enough to allow Devassy to utilize his dowry for a cause. So he bought a piece of land in the Western side of Delhi for 5000 rupees. Devassy took a loan and added to all his savings, started building a house. He could then move out of his Sarojini nagar sub-let one room-accommodation to the West Delhi pocket. Devassy built a reasonably big house. Years passed by and his family grew bigger by the size. He was an ardent believer, so, in spite of scarce DTC service, and the nearby Church being the Sacred Heart Cathedral, Devassy seldom commit a deadly sin missing Sunday Mass, without sufficient reason. Though very often, he failed take Thresia, his wife and children for their inability to get ready on time.
Much water has passed through Yamuna. Devassy retired and become a full time evangelist and presented himself for the Charismatic works of the Church. His children also grew up and settled in life.
A few years back Bhaskaran died. He had married off all his four daughters. They all were settled separately. its heard from a reliable source that Bhaskaran’s daughters unitedly deciced to sell off Bhaskaran’s Swapna veedu and divided the booty amongst them.
In the case of Devassy, he can not walk without the help of a stick now. His vision poor, his church activities also become difficult these days. In fact Devassy is now living with one of his children.
His children are finding the old house of no much use.
Swapna Veedu polum thakarnnu veezhan oru jeevitha kalam mathi !
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Change -Imminent
Change - imminent
It was a decision, made for better, so do I believe. The decision was painful. Almost a decade and a half we spent in the 900 sq ft area. Baby spent 24 x 7, loved it like a baby ,until Chakku’s arrival, which made all the difference. More so it was our own house, we named it our permanent home. Namely 406. I attach my savings from TATA to this house.
Baby, not at all game for a change, ultimately proposed the change, for her priority has changed to Chakku and the house, which she nurtured like her third daughter, flipped past.
We had no other alternative. It was impossible to adjust all in the 900 ft area. It was also unthinkable to leave Chakku in the care of Shanti. So for the better. Chakku will have a better environment. We all will have power cut free nights.
Change is obvious. Be it residence, attitude, approach. Progress comes through changes only.
So for my daughters, Papa makes hasty decisions, but many a times, it turns out OK. Isn’t it?
It was a decision, made for better, so do I believe. The decision was painful. Almost a decade and a half we spent in the 900 sq ft area. Baby spent 24 x 7, loved it like a baby ,until Chakku’s arrival, which made all the difference. More so it was our own house, we named it our permanent home. Namely 406. I attach my savings from TATA to this house.
Baby, not at all game for a change, ultimately proposed the change, for her priority has changed to Chakku and the house, which she nurtured like her third daughter, flipped past.
We had no other alternative. It was impossible to adjust all in the 900 ft area. It was also unthinkable to leave Chakku in the care of Shanti. So for the better. Chakku will have a better environment. We all will have power cut free nights.
Change is obvious. Be it residence, attitude, approach. Progress comes through changes only.
So for my daughters, Papa makes hasty decisions, but many a times, it turns out OK. Isn’t it?
Friday, July 8, 2011
Lost connections
I remember the day thru my Pre-degree in KE College.
We sat for lunch in the large lunch hall behind the main college building, near the loo. The hall with aroma of different variants of food packed in banana leaves and aluminiun vessels, filled the air.
Time One O clock. Stomach burning with hunger. I too opened my banana leaf roll. It opened up to white boiled rice with a spoonful of red chilli chutney. That was all I had.
My friend, Vijayan opened his lunch box which had a coconut chutney & fish peera. I could not stand the smell. I asked for a little portion of his fish peera. He was hesitant, not because he has problem in sharing, but because, he belonged to the Velan caste (DrKRN was born in that caste) which was too low a community for the Syrian Xtian, that I was, because we were taught that we have Brahminical hang over cord with which we stand above even the formidable Nairs. Let it be so, Vijayan asked me if I really have no problem sharing his food. I said NO not a bit. The Meen peera was good. Then on we shared food, to be true, Vijayan parted with his curry for me.
Vijayan’s parents wanted him to do MBBS, which he could not, owing to his not clearing PDC in the first and second attempt. Instead he joined the Homeo and become Dr. Vijayan and practiced in Kudamaloor. He was physician to my father also.
Vijayan had a love with a pretty girl which didn’t work. Problem was perhaps the same. Caste. He as every other Kudamaloor-ite was close to the liquor, both Desi and Videsi.
I have left for Delhi in 1971. Forty years over. Relationship with my childhood friends severed, Vijayan was no exception.
Yesterday, Vijayan passed away. I had planned to visit Kudamaloor yesterday, but it did not work out. Vijayan was my only connection to AKG Panicker, our common friend, and my childhood best friend, who too is lost in the sea of time. Now I have to find some ways to get Panicker connected.
We sat for lunch in the large lunch hall behind the main college building, near the loo. The hall with aroma of different variants of food packed in banana leaves and aluminiun vessels, filled the air.
Time One O clock. Stomach burning with hunger. I too opened my banana leaf roll. It opened up to white boiled rice with a spoonful of red chilli chutney. That was all I had.
My friend, Vijayan opened his lunch box which had a coconut chutney & fish peera. I could not stand the smell. I asked for a little portion of his fish peera. He was hesitant, not because he has problem in sharing, but because, he belonged to the Velan caste (DrKRN was born in that caste) which was too low a community for the Syrian Xtian, that I was, because we were taught that we have Brahminical hang over cord with which we stand above even the formidable Nairs. Let it be so, Vijayan asked me if I really have no problem sharing his food. I said NO not a bit. The Meen peera was good. Then on we shared food, to be true, Vijayan parted with his curry for me.
Vijayan’s parents wanted him to do MBBS, which he could not, owing to his not clearing PDC in the first and second attempt. Instead he joined the Homeo and become Dr. Vijayan and practiced in Kudamaloor. He was physician to my father also.
Vijayan had a love with a pretty girl which didn’t work. Problem was perhaps the same. Caste. He as every other Kudamaloor-ite was close to the liquor, both Desi and Videsi.
I have left for Delhi in 1971. Forty years over. Relationship with my childhood friends severed, Vijayan was no exception.
Yesterday, Vijayan passed away. I had planned to visit Kudamaloor yesterday, but it did not work out. Vijayan was my only connection to AKG Panicker, our common friend, and my childhood best friend, who too is lost in the sea of time. Now I have to find some ways to get Panicker connected.
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