STORY-MANGO TREE

STORY

I was about four years when I got a mango. It was so sweet that I went on licking it , till I got tired. I then made a small pit in the earth in our front court yard and placed it inside. Then I filled it with soil and poured water daily . I was glad when the first shoots came outside. I told papa and he advised me to make a small dam around it and fill with water. In due course it began to give fruits as sweet as the one I tasted.. Whoever saw it admired my efforts .

I soon forgot it when I joined the college and then a school in Delhi as clerk.

My father was about to retire and he wanted me to marry . It was then that I presented myself to a boy who had come to see me , along with his parents and relatives. I recognized the boy as soon as I saw him. He lived in my village and was popular because he sang well . He was very senior to me in school..

After the formal meeting I took him to the mango tree and explained the circumstances in which it became my tree.

“I love it as my first child! My regret is that we will have to vacate this house when father retires. It is Government quarter.”

“I shall tell a way out. One of the mango fruits from this plant can be planted in our house , whenever we have our own dwelling.”

Thus began our togetherness ; the tree is our child. Father came and asked:”What are you doing here?”

“We are discussing our future plans,” I said.

We went inside and watched the conversation . I was just listening and dreaming. When they rose to leave , I felt desolate. He told in my ears:”It is a matter of days only. Next month we are marrying.” I hurriedly kissed him.

For the time being , after marriage we stayed in his quarter in Delhi. Whenever we came home , we used to go and see our tree. I told the new hous owner that he should not cut the tree which is ‘our child’.

For long years I remained barren ; he was not concerned but I began to despair. My womb is unable to nurture a baby.

“Why do you bother? I find it convenient ; less luggage…”

I consulted a Doctor. He advised me to go for a surrogate mother. “The very process of bearing the baby for nine months , is bound to develop a bond which cannot be easily forgotten. So the baby must grow in my womb,” I told te Doctor.

So back to square one. I was getting old . One day a bearded old man in saffron cloths came for alms. His noble face attracted me.

I gave him food and some money. He was pleased:”Ask for some boon, Amma,” he said in Malayalam. “How did you know I am a Malayalee?”

‘I stayed in the Himalayas for seventy years. I know you are eager to have a baby.” He gave me a ‘vibhoothy’ (ashes) and told me to take it with milk. In six months I became pregnant. All were surprised . We named the baby ‘Himamshu’.

Then we heard of the tragedy: in an unprecedented storm , which raged the whole night , our child the mango tree fell down…

STORY-DAUGHTER

DAUGHTER

As the only daughter of wealthy business man , I was much pampered by my father.

After graduation , I did not know what to do. I hated business. My friends and I used to spend time , in restaurants and cinema halls , avoiding boys , who are interested only in sex and wine.

At that time , a Madrasi was appointed as accountant in our company. He is small and very gentle , always smiling . My efforts to befriend him failed , as he is always busy in his work.

One Sunday, I invited him to have dinner in a restaurant. Then I learned that he is from Kerala. He said it is actually Keralam and Trichur is his town. I said I am eager to see that area and extracted a promise to take me there, when he went home the next time. My friends asked me whether I am in love. I laughed:”He is like an innocent  boy , may be younger than me.”

It is difficult to get leave for Sanku (Sankaran is the full name) except in exceptional circumstances. To attend his sister’s marriage, he was allowed one weeks’ absence and I told father that I too will accompany him. To save time, we went by plane. It was nice to see Keralam . We got down at Nedumbassery and went by road to Trichur. All the villages are continuous ,  and looks like a forest. His home stands on the edge of a rice field . Both his mother and sister talks broken English but do not know Hindi at all.

The marriage was at Guruvayoor , the famous temple town  and took only a few minutes . The couple garlanded each other , that is all. The dinner was in a hotel. I took video of the proceedings and the scenery, almost everywhere we went, as the whole country is a picturesque scene. “Sanku, it is a pity you have to work in Bombay. Can’t you get a job here?” He smiled. I have never heard him talk. “Yes, Sir or Yes, Madam”-that is all he ever said.

“Do not call me Madam , I am Meenakshy. Call me Meenu.”

He smiled . I began helping father in his business. From eight in the morning till ten in the night , we three were working hard. Fther increased Sanku’s salary to fifty thousand . In addition to keeping the Accounts and preparing balance sheet for auditors to check , he found ways to save Income Tax . So his salary was less than what he deserved.

For my work , he gave me ten thousand. I learned the ins and outs of the company and father was pleased. We did not realize the passage of time. I became thirty and felt that I should marry. Sanku never opened his heart. On Sundays we used to go out. Once my friend Susheela saw us and called out. Sanku remained there but I went to her.

“Have you not been married ?” She asked . I told my difficulty. “You are a fool. Try him in the bed room. Remove your cloths. Any Vishwamithr will fall to your charms.”

I tried that also. But he remained calm. I removed his underwear ; the thing remained small and sluggish. I went to a Doctor alone. He wanted to see Sanku also. Then he gave some advice and medicines and things to eat to increase semen. After about one year , I became pregnant . I told father I wanted to marry Sanku.MINUTES,COUPLE

STORY-TOO YOUNG

AUTHORITY,ASSISTANT,PARENTS,BOMBAY,LOVEWhen I completed my Bs.C., my mother began fretting for a wife for me. “Ma, I am too young to get married. Let me enjoy free life for a few years.” “But I am too old. I need help in the kitchen. My friend’s daughter is also young and suitable for you. The other day we had met in a marriage party. She suggested this alliance. Just go and see her. A courtesy call, that is all.” I got the details of their house and went by bus. It took some one hour by bus. Then I walked for half an hour through village roads and came to their house. A very young girl, almost a child, opened the door. Seeing me, she went in and her mother came out. She immediately recognized me:”Nandan, do you remember me? You were too small when I saw you. You were studying in Bombay all these years , isn’t it? Come inside.” It was an old house, with an open courtyard in the centre. There is a net to cover the open space, lest crows may come . Such houses of wood work and tiles are seldom theses days of terrace roofs. As if she read my thoughts, she explained:”After the death of Sharada’s father, I could not take up the work of reconstruction of the house.” By this time, the girl brought hot tea and fried potatoes. Her mother went inside. “How much have you studied?” I could not think of anything else. She is very small, hardly five feet tall. Very slim but fair and with big eyes. Her breasts seem to be too small inside her loose jacket. She was wearing petty coat only. I liked her. “I could not pass tenth exam; failed in maths. What are you doing?” “I am a post office clerk. I have been selected as Assistant in Lakshadweep Islands. Orders may come any time.” “I love to live in the islands” “Do you love me?” “Yes . It is all decided by our parents that we must marry. My mother will also come and stay with us. It will be helpful for your mother because your father is bedridden. Everything is planned. This meeting is just a formality, because you have not seen me.” While leaving, her mother gave me a whole sac-full of ripe mangoes. “The worker will carry it up to the bus point?” The girl smiled sweetly, as I departed. My mother was very happy to learn that I liked the girl. She was glad to get the gift of mangoes which we used to buy in the market only. I told her that the girl is too young for marriage, as she is below eighteen. Mother did not mind it:”I was married at fifteen. The law is not binding on us. I need an assistant.” So the marriage took place. We invited only a limited number of relatives . There was no dowry:”You saw their estate. The whole of it is now ours, as there is no other claimant ,”said mother. When the order from the Lakshadweep Authority was received, Sarada was pregnant . I consoled her:”You know all are Muslims there . Accommodation will have to be fixed up. When things are settled, you can come with the baby. It is only a matter of months.” I went to the dweep from Calicut. I carried all masalas and pickles with me. It was my first voyage in a ship and I enjoyed the experience. I missed my dear wife. She was experienced in running the house and very thrifty. I considered myself lucky, till I received the news about the baby. It had a very rare disease-the head began to grow bigger and bigger and finally died. What was worse, was the opinion of the Doctors that Sarada cannot have a normal baby. I had been to my home and we returned after my leave:”Dear, I have you. That is enough . I do not mind, if your baby is delivered by some other woman. I must have your own child; I do not like to adopt one”, she said. Soon she forgot her sorrow and became as happy as she was, when we first met. In the office y boss was a lady IAS Officer, a North Indian. She was unmarried and liked me very much. She was disappointed, when I told her I am married. After hearing my story, she readily agreed to bear my baby. I told my wife and she was so glad that she kissed me again and again. After becoming pregnant, she took leave and went home. She came back after delivery and gave the baby boy to my wife. We informed home about the arrival of the son. Mother-in-law rushed to us immediately.

LIFE IS A STRANGE GAME

What is the goal? We do not know. There is no referee.

There is no coach. It takes a life time to know how to play; but then it is too late.

If I am given a chance to live all over again, surely I won’t make those mistakes again.

If some unknown person comes to you smiling, just ignore him. He wants to take advantage of your innocence.

If people come to sell things, drive them away.

Do not marry.

Do not waste 12 years in school and colleges. Go to a library, instead.

Avoid politics. They are all crooks.

Forget all those ten commandments. Never tell the truth. No one does.

Beg borrow or steal. That is what all are doing.

Never talk to a religious person. He is a parasite.

Take it from an old man: never cheat, nevr hurt the feelings of others, respect women.

MY INFERIORITY COMPLEX

My height is slightly less than 5 feet 3 inch.

My legs are too short to ride a bicycle.   Children’s cycle is comfortable.

My friends assured me that I cannot impress girls.

To cap it all, my poverty. For a middle class man poverty is a matter of great shame.

I was extremely shy to speak, even if all are well known. The sound will not come out. I cannot even sign because of a nasty tremor wich agonised me, because, in those days there were no ball point pens and I have to sign in the salary bill,with ink pen, in the presence of people. I feared the first day of the month, when salary is disbursed !

Inferiority complex can have a damaging effect on one’s career. I could never make an impression during an interview. I was happy that I did not have to face the girl whom I was to marry.

Two things lightened my days. Books were always my friends. In the school, I was always a hero, because teachers and students always like a bright pupil.

A HUSBAND IS A PITIABLE CREATURE

Many men are afraid of marriage. As Bernard Shaw said, if you marry, you will repent immediately.

But they will not allow you to enjoy your freedom indefinitely. Mother needs an assistant when she gets old. A number of fathers will try to get you entangled for their daughters. In India, an unmarried girl is a curse on her parents. If nothing else, your friends come forward to help you. I think such things are unknown in the West.

Once married, there is no going back. You are tied for seven lives, one after another.

Every day you have to bring vegetables, milk and such things in addition to taking her for shopping, cinema and visiting friends. As soon as you come back from your work place, tired and angry, on account of the bickerings and fights with your colleagues and the irrational Boss, she will be waiting, fully dressed, to go out. Not her fault, as she is kept inside the house, bored to death. Well get fresh, change your dress and go out.

When children are born, at least two, there is no end to your worries. Worries are multiplied, with the children fighting each other, then school, tuition, home work and all that.

Wife falling ill, in-laws coming and all sorts of complications.

If she is beautiful (who will marry an ugly girl?), you are suspicious of that idle fellow, who is always so sweet and glib tongued.

And, when you want to do it, she is not in the mood.

Before you realised it, your daughter has grown too big. Now it is your turn, to hunt for a husband for her.

W-I-F-E means, Worry Invited For Ever !.

SHORT STORY – JANE, MY HERO

She was our hero.

 To call her a heroine, is not in tune with her nature. Standing full five feet eight inches tall, she was taller than most men. Equally good in studies and sports, we in the women’s college were eager for her friendship.

 But she rarely mingled with us. She was not haughty; she just did not have the time to talk. She would come exactly at ten on her modest bicycle, in simple pants and shirt, and leave at five in the evening, to coach students in Physics and Maths., which were her favourite subjects.

 During break, she would eat the food she brought in her box. All our efforts to make her share our fast foods failed. Occasionally she took fruit juice offered by me and I was overjoyed.

 I ventured: are you alone? Don’t you have parents?

Yes, I live with them. I have a sister too.

 Where?

 Near the church. My father is a parson.

 Do you like to travel?

Very much; but my schedule is very tight.

 My name is Vidya.

 I have never been to a Hindu house.

Thereafter, we came closer to one another. My friends wanted to know every thing about her, but I knew very little.

 We were going for a picnic to a remote locality, of which I learned from the web. I was sponsoring the trip. There were only some ten girls. I somehow persuaded my hero to join us. When she agreed, I was jubilant.

 She had carried her painting materials. The spot was by the side of a hill. Almost as soon as we reached, she set up her things and started painting right in earnest

 I watched her face. Her brow was expansive, nose medium size and lips almost nonexistent; just two lines. Her eyes are two magnets capable of attracting even a blind man! So lively and dark.

Did not any boy make advances to you?

She looked surprised. Why do you ask this question?

 I did not know what to say.

 Jane : love is a foolish sentiment. Today you may like one. After marriage he will prove a different man.

 When it was time to rest, she looked around. There was none except the two of us. She removed all her cloths and jumped into the lake. She invited me but I felt shy. Her body was like a chiseled wood sculpture. I enjoyed watching every movement of her body. When I heard voices from a distance, I called out to her.

 She came up and wore the same cloths. Then we all had lunch.

 When she had finished her work, she drew the outline of my face but refused to show it.

Then onwards we became friends. One day I told her: some one is coming to see me; will you be there, to give me company?

 I felt relieved when she agreed. I drove her to my house. When we reached there, all had assembled to give her a resounding welcome.

 My younger brother Binoy was bubbling with joy. I felt jealous. Mother was seeing a Christian for the first time! Where will she sleep? I told her they are just like us. She will sleep in my room.

 We drove round the town, with Binoy in the back seat. In this short time he had become very much attached to my hero. She patiently explained all doubts he had in Physics. Binoy expressed his admiration for her ability to explain in simple terms, even complicated concepts.

 When the party came, I felt uneasy. Take it easy, she said. I insisted that she must sit by my side. I did not even look at him properly. When we returned to my room, I told her I do not want to marry.

 She: wait; let us know all details.

 Before she returned, she gave me my portrait. Do not open it now, she told me.

Later, whenn I opened it, I could not believe my eyes! Am I so cute? 

We three drove to her church to drop her there. It was a modest establishment, her dwelling little better than a slum. We distributed cakes, fruits etc. which we had brought with us, to all those present. I wanted to help her. I bought all her paintings, some of them quite good, for one lakh rupees, saying, my friends wanted them. I paid her a cheque, then and there. She was visibly moved. She even gave me a kiss!

 She got campus selection and joined the IIT, Kanpur. I felt lonely and bitter. I went on writing to her, though she replied only once in a month. Meanwhile, my marriage took place. I acted as a good daughter but felt empty at heart. Even the son, born within a year, failed to enliven my heart. He is a business man (or machine?), interested only in profits.

 Binoy joined a college at Kanpur, staying with my hero. I envied him.

 One day they came to see me. When I saw her I could not hold my tears. I embraced her and wept unashamedly.

We went to my father’s home and enjoyed those few days, dropped from heaven.

It is impossible to continue like this, I told Jane. Now she listened seriously. She is now more handsome, if I may put it that way. That night we slept together, talking almost the whole night. My husband was away on tour, not that it matters, in any way. He seldom talked to me. I went to Kanpur, with Jane and Binoy……

THIRUVATHIRA – IT IS LADIES’ NIGHT IN KERALAM

 SAHIVA-PARVATHY, ANOTHER LOVE STORY

 Sathy was reborn as the daughter of Himalaya. (In Samskrutham, parvathy means daughter of parvatham, parvatham is mountain).  She started tapasya at the tender age of three, for her reunion with Shiva.

 As Shiva was in a very sad and aggressive mood, ever since his beloved Sathy’s self immolation (see my blog), he never came out of the trance and was totally unaware of the young girl’s wish. When he understood it, Parvathy, now sixteen years, with coiled hair and emaciated body, eating fruits to keep her alive, was still in her tapasya. So he came to her, disguised as a Brahman, and enquired about her wish, for which she was doing such hard meditation and prayers.

 He tried to dissuade her, but ultimately yielded to her desire to marry him. According to one story, this day, day of their meeting, is celebrated every night, as Ladies’ night, today in the Malayalam month of Dhanu. All night, in the bright moon light, they play about in the ponds, swimming and throwing water on each other, or enjoying the improvised swing, hung from the branches of trees.

 Each one chews 101 betel leaves, one after another, smeared with lime and mixed with areca nut pieces, after chewing which their lips become red. This betel chewing is common among ladies in olden days, after dinner.

 They do fasting, taking only tender coconut water and plantain. Needless to say, men are totally prohibited in this night activities.

 This is observed only in God’s own country, Keralam.

SHORT STORY – LOVE AT LAST

 Yes, come in.

 When I looked up, it was a new face. She was a very young girl, whom I had not seen earlier. As the Bank Manager, I used to meet almost all well known people of the town, but she did not appear like a customer. There was something elusive and attractive about her innocent face. She sat down only when I told her.

 What can I do for you?

 Sir, I want to stay in your hostel.

 Who told you about my lodge? It is my house. I stay in the first floor and in the ground floor they are all men. No female in my house. I am a bachelor, unlikely to marry at my age of fifty five.

 How does it matter? I shall occupy a room in the first floor with you.

 I do not know you. Who are you? Don’t you have your parents?

 When she told about her father, I was surprised, he is one of the richest in the town. She had some reasons which obviously she does not want to share with me.

 I was in a dilemma. I did not want to annoy her. I was reluctant to admit her to my house. What will people say?

 Sir, you will have no problem with me. I will come at 5 pm.

Thus she left me wondering, what lie shall I tell my lodge mates to keep their mouths shut?

 She came exactly at five. After winding up my work, we left for my house in her car.

 There was only one or two in the lodge. We went upstairs and opened my room. It had the typical bachelor’s look, with newspapers, magazines, writing pads etc. scattered here and there, my shirt thrown on the bed and bath towel hanging on the rope. She took it all in one glance. You can see the rooms, so saying, I left her and joined the men in the lodge.

 Who is this girl?  A distant relation; may stay here for a couple of days. She was in the States.

 Actually she looked very odd in her loose pants and T-shirt, with her hair cut very short, and care free walk. So I thought it convenient to explain, pre-empting further questions.

 After some time, she came down with black coffee. All were pleasantly surprised.

 You may wonder who I am. My name is Tinu. I am studying in evening college.

 Then she asked the whereabouts of all, including myself. She left soon. I was relieved.

When I went to my room, I found every thing in order. She had swept all the three rooms, opened the windows and switched on the fans. Soon she returned with her baggage, a lot of books and a bed roll. She occupied the room next to mine.

 She distributed cakes and sweets among us and invited us to dinner in an expensive restaurant. She hired a car so that all can go together. After dinner, we said good night and retired to our rooms.

 For some time I could not sleep. Early morning at five, she came with bed coffee.

 Get ready, we are going for the morning walk, she declared.

 When I looked in surprise, she continued: I know you are not in the habit. But who will take care of your health? Tomorrow I have fixed up with a doctor.

She walked very fast and I found it impossible to keep pace.  After half an hour,we was returned.

 She prepared break fast of sandwiches and told me she will bring lunch to the Bank.

The next day, I was nervous when the doctor told me to lie down in the bed in the consultancy room and fitted all those gadgets and wires. My heart began to beat faster. Blood, urine and sputum were also examined.

 On our return, she said my ECG was normal. It was a great relief.

It seems she is a dietician. I thought she forgot to put salt in the curry. When I reminded her about it, she gave me a lecture on the desirability of reducing salt intake. That bewitching smile can disarm any die hard glutton! I gave up.

 On Sundays, we used to drive aimlessly. Whenever we like, we stop, eat fruits which she always stocks in plenty in the car, and drink coffee from the thermos flask. A hill top is always preferred.

Often I like something spicy to eat, but she will object.

One evening I saw a young fellow with a Nepali look, talking to her at home.

Who is he?

 He wants some work.

 But we don’t need any watchman here.

 I am thinking of giving him some project. The west side is just a forest now. We can set up a cattle shed there. Initially ten cows will do. I will manage all expenses. This boy will do the work.

 I thought about it. Not a bad idea. So the work  started immediately, and in record time a dairy farm was ready. We all enjoyed good cow’s milk, curd and ghee. In due course, a chicken farm too was established.

 For some days she went away. I never questioned her activities. So I did not ask where she was going or when she will return.

 One fine morning she came with a new born baby with a trained nurse to look after the baby. We all were curious to know about the baby boy which was somewhat dark. I studiously avoided asking any question.

 At night, I came out into the balcony and stood watching the sky. There were a few stars. Some white clouds moved slowly, aimlessly across the sky. The eastern horizon was becoming brighter and presently, the half moon rose reluctantly, as though with a guilty feeling about being so late.

 She was standing very close to me. I don’t know how long we were standing like that, immersed in the enjoyment of nature, so pure and calm.

 I came alive, when she placed her feathery soft hand on my shoulder. She smiled shyly and said softly: it is this quality which I like in you, Sir. Any one else would have asked a thousand questions about this baby.

 She kissed my cheek and continued: before telling you everything, let us relax.

 So saying, she gently took my hand and led to my room.

 During the last one year, she had carried out extensive repairs in the whole building, to make it more comfortable and modern. The west side wall of my room was demolished and replaced by a single glass pane which can be lowered, like the glass window of a car. Now I can view the sloping grass land beyond our house, and the sun set.

 My small bed was replaced by a double bed, all with her money. We now lay down side by side and she continued: I have a fast friend in the US. I too was there. She wanted to terminate pregnancy, but I strongly objected. So we came secretly to India. She gave birth to this baby in a hospital in Calcutta, in total privacy as she is still unmarried. I went there and took custody of the baby, saying I am her sister. In the birth certificate, my name was given as mother. A large amount of money has been deposited in the boy’s name, in the Hyderabad branch of your Bank, from where I extracted all information about you, and this is how I came to you in advance, to secure a place to live, in total privacy. I thank God I was not mistaken in my calculations.

 You are very sweet. Afterwards I began to love you.

 She turned to me and asked: have you ever loved any one?

 I do not think so.

 Can you love me?

 I do not know what love is.

 Do you read poetry?

 No.

She remained silent for some time. She then embraced me and said: poor boy. There is nobody to look after you. Now you have to marry me, as the baby must have a father. We cannot live incognito all the while.

 Are you afraid?

 I shall think about it.

Did you miss me when I went to Calcutta?

 YES, VERY MUCH.

 I too wanted to fly back as soon as possible. This is love. So saying, she kissed me long and passionately.

CHILDHOOD MEMOIRS-3, TO SCHOOL

Birth of KPC

I have to fill up some gap in the narrative.

About two centuries ago, a girl in my kk family fell in love with a boy in Kunnathur mana (Padinjaredath, after the split into Kizhakedath and Padinjaredath). As he was a younger brother, he should not have married from his own caste; but the lovers managed to marry.

In due course, a bonny boy was born to the couple who lived in-cognito. The boy was regularly brought to the Peruvanam temple for Darshan of Eratteppan (it was recently that I knew about it. Eratta = double; there is a big lingam and a small one, side by side). The smart boy invited the attention of Ittivasu-aphan (Brother-in-law of Shaktanthampuran) who was meditating in the mandapam.

 On being asked: which is your family?

The boy said: Padinjaredath which surprised the aphan!

A boy in my family, unknown to me?

When matters were clarified, he persuaded the elder brother to bring the young family and both lived happily ……till fate ordered almost a violent implosion. My uncle (eldest) and father of the present kpc generaion hated each other, like Duryodhana and Bhima. My brother may know all about it. A separate kitchen was set up. Maternal grandmother who knew Mahabharat so well failed to intervene. Her opposite number was a simple village girl. After protracted cold war, it was decided to partition the property. Neither party had enough money to pay compensation. So they approached Raja of Travancore who purchased the house. Now some social activities are going on there.

Uncle moved to Kuttapuzha which is very fresh in my memory, as construction of the new house at Naruvakulangara was going on under the supervision of my father. There were a number of wooden vessels used to store sambar etc during feast and we used  to play in them as boats !From Kuttapuzha house we would climb the broken corner wall of the temple and collect marod- a long flat piece of baked earth used as tile-rendered waste after the temple was renovated, with manglore tiles. We would make multi storey structures with marod. Krishnammaman, of my age, was my playmate. Ma’s father married a second time to dispose of my ma’s elder sister(here was a tragedy before which ma’s fate pales into insignificance; at least, ma enjoyed brief spells of affluence and happiness) Krishnammaman was son to the second wife.

One day there was a commotion. My stepsister was running towards the fence. Maheswaran’n elder brother, who was later to be closely associated to me, was trying to come down from a bamboo tree. A thorn had pierced his eye. They took him to Nambisan’s clinic at Trichur, but could not save the eye.

School

My guru died, followed by several of his brothers, on account of some epidemic, I think. Vedic education came to an end. I wanted to go to school inspired by the fact, perhaps, that all my cousins in ma’s house went to school.

Somehow, I had a half shirt and half trouser. I changed into this new dress and approached uncle Vasudevaphn, who was working at high school at Cherpu. He was reading something at his bungalow at kottical. When he heard me, he quietly gave me a four anna coin (25 paise) and dismissed me.

I went straight to ma’s house at Naruvakulangara and requested the one-eyed Aniettan (Neelakanthan)to help me. Next day at 9 am we started for the high school, where he was studying. In front of the Karayogam School, he asked me to wait and proceeded further. At 10 the bell rang. I panicked and followed the children who went into the first standard. I sat with them on a bench. There were no desks. Ramankutty master (there male teachers were called so) must have been surprised. He did not say anything. I immensely liked the new atmosphere .The masterji drew a fine pumpkin on the blackboard which looked like a real one.

At lunch break, he gave me a form and told me to get it filled by elders. I do not remember who signed it. Perhaps my second uncle. I dutifully handed over the form to masterji.

That was the happiest day in my life! Goddess Saraswatiy must have been very pleased. My parents or anybody in my family, probably, did not know about it, until I returned on Friday evening.

Pidikaparambu

After partition of property between Vasudevaphan and our family, when we came away, we became refugees in our own village. Who would take responsibility of a young widow and her four children without any wherewithal? We were housed in an old uninhabited cottage. A faithful maidservant remained with mother even in her woes. Across the fields my brother and I would run to join our cousins who are children of Ramaphan, who happened to be patrnal great grandfather’s youngest son. Recently I happened to see the latter’s cousin, something like a character from history. I did not know that such a person ever lived. This is a peculiar nature. I never cared to know anything about anyone. Now I want to have a record of each member of our clan. Living ones are more than sixty in number.

Ramaphan’s son Unni (KRS) is only slightly elder to me. At that time, we were about thirteen. Next comes Vasudevan and Raman. Their orchard is very large and has a big pond and two or three wells. In the night we all used to sleep together.

At the Shiva temple Othootu was going on. Yajurveda would be recited every day for forty one days continuously, from morning till midnight with lunch break of an hour or so.

Morning breakfast at 8, lunch at 1p.m., evening light food at 6, and dinner at midnight .There were oil and vaka (powdered bark of a tree) and crushed leaves of hedge for shampoo (what a healthy life style !) at the temple tank for our use (only for Namboodiris) Our bath may take a long time, massaging, talking and swimming…..

Practically we children enjoyed the time.

Poor ma once woke up in the night and saw something hanging from the roof .The only light was from a small bottle lamp (filled with kerosene and fitted with a perforated lid through which a wick is inserted) She woke up the maid. It was a SNAKE, probably poisonless (Rat snake) chera, but remember that father died of snakebite !All through the night, they kept vigil lest it may harm the sleeping girls…

Thiruvallakavu temple, now famous for initiating kids into the world of letters, is only two miles from our house. People offer appam (rice powder and jaggery mixed and made into balls which are then fried in pure cows’ ghee) We walk the distance , circumventing the hill, with hardly any dwelling in that are (now there is bus service, tarred road, plenty of terrace buildings and Santa Maria School) and stray dogs with menacing looks, reach the main Trichur-Kodungallor road. At 3pm is the pooja. The appetizing fragrance of ghee diverts our attention while praying for sadbudhi (wisdom). We may eat the appam then and there.

One day a stranger appeared, wearing khaki trousers and half-sleeved shirt. He smiled at us and started talking, as if he knew us. He was hefty and well built and had leadership qualities. He organized local farmers to form a Kisan Sabha.We were easily entangled into a Balasangham.He became a hero-comrade M.N., later; a warrier also became an activist.

Our Cochin state was an independent entity, ruled by a king, area comprising of the land south of Bharatapuzha and Travancore state in the South, beyond Ernakulum district. There was demand for peoples’ representation in the administration and people were becoming politically conscious. A private road leading to a temple was closed to lower castes. They were agitating for the right to use the road. Police mercilessly beat them up. M.N. was among them. We saw him coming with several injuries. Our tender hearts melted, we gave the appams we were carrying, to comrade.

At that time I took Savithri, my sister to Vallachira School and enrolled her there. I do not remember any of our relatives visiting us. Not even maternal grandmother!

Avanavil mana had three elephants. The youngest Ramachandran became out of control and refused to come out of the temple tank. We all went to see the fun. It was spectacle worth watching. The animal was swimming and diving, sometimes only the four feet visible above water, moving from corner to corner within seconds, muddying the water, putting the mahouts to an ordeal. They taught him a lesson, after he was ultimately enticed with a bunch of plantains, beating him right and left. The poor creature was simply enjoying a dip in water. He was a waterfriend. I almost wept. Why do we not allow these forest animals their freedom?

Pazhai

Ultimately Veembur kadalayil mana adopted us and we moved to a cottage adjoining their’s, purchased from a nair family, marking the beginning of a lifelong relationship with V.B.S, my guide and mentor until I left Keralam for good.

The lady in white, my maternal grandma ,belonged to this house which was earlier located at Thalore.

 Pazhai(gone waste)

 The very name is a thrill. In the village library, I found my first novel(Translation of  “The Wreck by Tagore “), I devoured every word, like a thirsty man drinking dew drops. I was disappointed, when Kamala returned to her lawful husband, whom she had never seen! The love between her and  Romesh, the hero, was pure and devoid of selfishness. Alas, such love wilts under the heat of married life!

There was an ashram of Vivekananda Mission, near the river (now under RSS).The plot was donated by maternal grandma’s uncle. The library had children’s English books which I greedily read, though half the words were unknown to me.

VBS’s cousins and their children, my maternal uncles and occasionally, politicians used to frequent the VK house and, in short, a certain intellectual air prevailed there, very stimulating and invigorating. There, I learned the basics of Marxism. Gorky’s books were a favourite. Ralph Fox, Steinbeck, Howard Fast etc. were too familiar, even though, Trotsky’s autobiography was read only recently in Dyal Singh Library (he was unjustly maligned by Stalinists. He was a genius of the rank of Lenin, M.N.Roy, Mao etc).