“Padha, Perias. Airport podham” he hurried me to accompany him to the airport,” Ravi is coming for a short vacation.I have selected a couple of girls for him and I want to perform his wedding if he chooses one of them”.
Dr.Rao is a leading cardiologist and his son is a software boy working in U.S.
“Fine, but on the way, I would like to call on a friend at Tarnaka”
”Okey, you don’t mind my coming to your friend’s house?”
“Not at all”
”Seshadri Nilayam’ looked refreshed and rejuvenated. The bamboo chairs bought by Mama, at Rs. 10.00 each , soon after his wedding, have been replaced with leather sofas, and with matching window curtains and wall hangings,the reception hall looked grand. Within a short period of 3 days, Liz has earned the love and affection of the family, especially that of Alamumami and I realized that language is not indispensable, when the hearts develop a silent communication skill of their own,when there is a flow of love in between. Seshumama and athai also told me that they too liked Liz.
Pitchu, while talking to Dr.Rao realized and revealed that his son was well known to him and they were classmates. Pitchu’s sister,
Lakshmi served us ‘chai’ and some snacks
.
”Ee pappa chala anthanga unthikatha, Perias” ( is she not really good looking?), Rao commented and then in his typical simple and straight forward style, asked Lakshmi “Yeamma, na Ravine pellicheskkundava?”( will you marry my son?)
Except one person, we all thought that it was an innocent joke made in good spirit and just smiled.The person who took it seriously was Chamianna, who, while entering the house along with his wife, overheard Dr.Rao’s remarks and asked Seshumama,” Ee kazuveridaman aaruda? Nammudey veettil kkeri pennu chothikkan?”(who is this scoundrel to come to our house and ask for the hands of our daughter?)
Dr.Rao, fortunately could not follow the question and before further damage could be done, Pitchu cleverly took the visitor to the side room and on the way, seeing Liz, asked Pitchu,” Ethukattil ninnu kittee, ee vella korangu?'(from where did you catch this albino ape?) . Again, he turned back and asked Seshumama, “Oii, Lakshmikkippo thalkarakkamonnum illayea?. Avalodu apasmaram poora poyi kozanthai sowkkiyama irukkala?”.
(hope Lakshmi is free now from the epilepsy problem, she had earlier?)
When she was a kid, Lakhmi experienced seizures once, due to high fever and the wicked pattar remembered that ‘divyastahram’ now, to shoot at the innocent girl’s future.
His arrows, however, failed to hit the targets.
Chamianna, a distant relative of Seshumama, is basically from Vaikkom and like some pattars of south kerala of olden days, talks mostly in Malayalam and uses the words such as ‘kazhuveridamon’ frequently,without worrying the bad meaning they carry. He doesn’t have good opinion about anyone in the world, and enjoys interfering in others’ matters. He never shares the happiness of others; so he is always unhappy. He is jealous of others prospering; so he never prospers. He has worked as a cook,school teacher,vadyar, bus driver,watch repairer and a transport company owner but was a failure in everything he did because of his bad manners,ego and crooked way of dealing. The God, however, in His unique way, provided a remedy for all his badness by
selecting, Meenamami, as his life partner. She is a wonderful woman, full of grace,kindness and affection and whenever I see that charming woman, I used to wonder, how she could be so smiling and look peaceful in spite of having such an unworthy husband.
As he couldn’t throw out Chamianna from his house, Pitchu wanted us to move out and asked Elizabeth,
“Liz, shall we also go to airport to receive Ravi?’
Meenamami said that she would be leaving that evening to her village and asked Pitchu whether she could also join us to the airport to spend some time with Elizabeth.
I realised later that actually the purpose of her accompanying us was to talk to Dr.Rao about the good qualities of Lakshmi.
“I am not related to Seshumama”, She told Dr.Rao, in Telugu, ‘but I know that family for the past several years. They live a simple and decent life and there is harmony and understanding , love and affection among the members. Lakshmi is a girl of exemplary character and intelligence. She will be an asset to any respectable family. Being a man of conventional thinking, Seshu may have some reservation, because, though your socioeconomic status is much higher than his, you are a Vashnavite and speak a different language. But these problems are not insurmountable and I can talk to Sehu and convince him . But before that, if you did make the proposal seriously, let your son meet Sehu’s people and if they also agree with you, talk to Lakshmi and let you know whether he wants you to go ahead”
” I am serious about this alliance ” Dr.Rao said,” Perias has mentioned earlier about Seshumama and now I have heard from you too. I want Ravi to see the girl today itself on our way back and give his opinion”
I was surprised at the turn of events. I went to Seshumama’s house to enquire about Pitch’s wedding arrangements, could not speak a single word about it but now we are discussing about his sister’s wedding, the proposal for which came from a friend who appeared unexpectedly. I wished Meera were with me.
Meena mami wanted to talk to Seshumama before Ravi goes to see the girl and moreover she wanted to remove her husband from the scene. So, she told Dr. Rao that it would be inhuman to trouble the boy who would be tired after a long journey and Dr. Rao should talk to his son about this matter after a day or two allowing him time to take rest and relax.
On our way back from the airport, Meenamami told Pitchu,”Let us go to ‘Ananth jyothi’, first. I will prepare food for you all there . You eat and relax.I will pack off my husband. I don’t want him to see Elizabeth again ”
That was a great relief for all of us.
After returning home, while Meenamami was busy in the kitchen, I called Meera and briefed her about the developments. She was extremely happy about the proposal and suggested that in case we were not able to get rid of Chamianna, the meeting can be arranged in Anantha Jyothy .
But Meenamami did manage to pack of her husband and therefore we all went to ‘seshadri Nilayam’and contrary to our expectation, Seshumama did not reject the proposal outright, though he would have preferred to have an Iyer boy with Vibhuthi, instead of an Iyengar boy with Namam and speaking a language other than his mother tongue.
“Seshu, remember,” meenamami said,” You are aging and have two daughters to be married; your two children are studying and you cannot burden to Pitchu any more, beyond a limit. Dr.Rao, is much above you in economical and social status and Pitchu knows Ravi well. Except for some variations in customs and social activities, Vaishnavites also follow the same scriptures as we do. Lakshmi speaks Telugu well and therefore language difference is not at all a problem. Anyway, mostly they will be talking only English”
Elizabeth also encouraged mama to take a positive decision, though she couldn’t differentiate between, Iyer-Iyengar or Tamil-Telugu or understand how a marriage could be fixed just in one meeting between an unknown boy and girl..
“Anyway, let Ravi and Laksmi see each other and then we will decide” Seshumama said.
Athai verified from Pitchu about the credentials of Ravi and Pitch confirmed that to his best knowledge, Ravi was not involved in any love affairs.
Next morning, after ascertaining from Pitchu about Laksmi’s educational qualification and some other details, Dr. Rao suggested that we meet informally in a hotel, so that in case, for some reason, the alliance didn’t materialize Lakshmi wouldn’t feel bad. He invited all of us for a dinner.
It was a very friendly, casual meet and Ravi and Lakshmi were given enough opportunities to discuss and decide. Ravi wanted to have one or two meetings with her one to one, for which none from Seshumama’s side had any objection. Athai diplomatically asked a few questions to Ravi to know about his habits and way of living and Meera asked about his job, hobbies etc and also provided some information about Lakshmi on topics the youth are interested .
After a couple of days, I went to Seshumama’s house with some fruits and sweets and declared,
” Though I am against dropping costly kanchi pattu sarees in the homakundam, I believe that the benevolent sky, have accept a few drops of ghee poured in the sacrificial fire and rewards the earth in the form of rains. Similarly, Alamumai’s Chatahppuram pulliar,has showered his blessings on us, accepting the extra one coconut on our credit; Yes, Dr. Rao and his family would like you to find an auspicious day and perform the wedding in two weeks”.
‘It is purely due to Lakshmi’s good heart and kindness to others” Alamumami said,
” Don’t pluck all the flours from the plant; leave a few for the bees and butter flies”, she used to warn me when I go to the garden to pluck flowers for Puja” ‘
We had a long discussion about the arrangements to be made. Meera, who was sitting by my side, pinched me to find out about Pitchu’s wedding so that both the marriages could be conducted the same day in the same hall. But, I was helpless as none of them in Mama’s family discussed that topic and I didn’t want to raise it on my own.
At that time something, really bad happened.
Category: A02 — SEQUELS
My maiden visit to USA – Chapter 05
The story of Big Ben.
Pushpalatha ( that is the name of the air hostess ) guided a huge woman with a small, smiling face, towards us and showed the seat next to ours.
‘Hi, can I sit here please?’ she asked politely turning to Ammalu, who invited her to occupy the seat next to hers.
‘Welcome,’ I intervened unnecessarily,’ but don’t spill over us’
Ammalu stared at me to reprimand while the lady, smilingly asked me, ‘spilling, a solid stuff like me? And Sir, answering to unasked question?’
‘Hei, fatty!’ I jumped from my seat and enquired, ‘ aren’t you, BB, Big Ben ?’
‘I’m. And you Perias , Peria and ss’?
‘How did you find out?’
‘Your three Ks and a queen close by’
‘3 Ks?’
“kudumi, kadukkan and koranku goshti’
She suddenly fell on me and hugged so strongly that I feared that I heard some cracking and breaking sound from my inside ! Ammalu was shocked She kept blinking till BB bent down and touched her feet for blessings.
‘Ammalu, don’t go by the attire or articulations of speech organs, fluctuating facial expressions or liberal limb movements, of this woman,’ I introduced BB to Ammalu. She is a ground-to-earth Palakkad Mami , though not by birth. I have mentioned to you about her earlier. Easwari is the name given by her mom which was manicured to Easwa by her father for his convenience . She is a great scholar, a prolific writer , teaching in a prominent London University. Above all, a very close net friend of mine, vibrant and jovial’
‘From whom did you inherit this bewitching smile ?’ I asked, “from your mother ?’
‘No, from my father , the guy who molested my mother’
‘What? ‘ Ammalu asked her mouth wide opened and Parasu tried to rise form his seat.
‘A big story, Ma,’ BB confessed. My biological father was David Daniel, a British, who was the owner’s son of the tea estate, where my mother was working, in Nilgiris. He was a decent guy but somehow took a fancy for my mother who was then hardly twenty. On a ‘puthari dina vizha’ or harvest festival, a thanks- giving ceremony for the Mother Earth for her bounty of fresh green paddy stems carrying bunches of paddies, the tribes venerate her by offering coconut and fruits and sing and dance in group to please her. it is not clear to me even to day whether my mother escaped from that group on her own or was kidnapped but the net result was she lost her virginity .
When the matter came to light, the entire labor force, the Todas, Badagas, Kotas and other tribal leaders with their cows and buffaloes, kathies and thadies, (knives and sticks ) marched towards the bungalow of my father and threatened to burn it. The manager of the estate, Rama Iyer, whom the workers respected for his impartial treatment and helping attitude, came out and pacified the crowd, requested them to disperse with an assurance that by the very next day he would find a solution.
‘You can burn him, burn the house or do whatever you want, if you do not accept my solution.’ He told them.
One young man, Yellakki shouted, ‘I am prepared to marry Muthamma’
‘That is nice of you, no doubt.’ Rama Iyer said, “but give me time till tomorrow. I should talk to Muthamma too’
Next day, the workers came with their cows and buffaloes, kathies and thadies but no torches.
‘The crime cannot be compensated; it cannot be redeemed by burning the criminal or his house. We know how decently the son of the estate owner has been behaving till the other day. There has been no occasion to distrust him so far.
But now, what should not have happened has happened. He regrets his action and is prepared to agree for any of your terms including marrying Muthamma. She will take her to his country and extend every respect due to a lady of his family.
‘Enna Ramappa, Muthammavai Mariya ammavakka sollareengala ? You want Muthamma to become Mariyamma ? ‘ asked Kempa Gowda .
‘What about my offer to marry her?’ Yellaki enquired.
‘We will not allow the chinna sett ( junior master ) to enter our estate when our women are there,’ shouted Kulla.
‘Agreed,’ Rama Iyer came forward to face the crowd. ‘And he too is agreeable for all your conditions. He doesn’t believe in the existence of God and does not follow any religion. So the question of treating our girl as a christian doesn’t arise. Regarding Yellakki’s offer, Muthamma is not agreeable . She will marry none other than Davud. Otherwise, she will go away from the hills and look for a living elsewhere. I treat Muthamma as my own daughter and I will not allow her to go elsewhere. I will accept her in my family as one of my children. If you, the tribal heads and others do not agree for this, I will resign my job and take legal action against David Daniel’
He won the day. the crowd accepted the proposal. Iyer gave each of them a few coins to thank them for their cooperation in settling a burning problem.
After the wedding, which was a simple affair as per the tribal tradition, mom preferred to stay in her old mung and visited her husband’s bungalow infrequently . My father arranged a tutor to teach her English. An English lady taught the ethics of western culture and practices in British homes and behavior pattern in parties and clubs.
‘It would have been a hard task for your mother , the conversion from the tribal tradition to the sophisticated western ways,’ Parasu asked.
‘Not really, I was told,’. BB replied, ‘we in the hills were closely moving with the westerners who were in plenty there, especially during the seasons’
‘And generally women learn things fast,’ Ammalu said.
‘Water flows will be faster into an empty space,’ l poked my nose as is my vogue and received a fitting rebuke from BB. She grabbed the chella petty, betel case from Parasu’s hand and placed on my lap. ‘Keep munching’
‘Agree with Ammalu mom ,’ BB said, ‘ and women generally, do not flap an eye when the Fate aims a powerful torch at their face.’
‘The dawn of independence for the country was drawing closer and the Englishmen were leaving one by one and in groups. My dad came home one day and asked my mom to get ready to go with my dad along with her mother . I was then six months -old safe and secure inside my mother’s womb.
‘I want my child to be born in this valley from which I sprouted, my parents and theirs,’ Mom was firm. My dad tried to persuade my grand mother and promised comfortable journey and complete support in the new place. ‘If you agree to come, Muthamma will definitely join me. she doesn’t want to leave you alone here ‘
Grand ma was firm in her denial . She did not want to leave the Toda mund, her thatched house, where she lived all her life, without leaving it even for a day, where her forbears lived and died and where her only daughter was born and raised.
‘I was born in this soil; as a child, as a teen- aged, as a middle- aged, as an old woman, I have roamed on this greenly hills and silent valleys behind the cattle and the vast land here is filled with their smell and the smell of their drops. Unless I am buried under its surface, I will have no peace in the other world ,’ said my granny holding close to her body all the tools she used, stick, bamboo basket, bent knife etc. as if she wants those implements to accompany her in her last journey. ‘ And should I not see the face of my grand child? Should I not apply scented oil on the baby’s tender hands, legs, chest and back and wash with warm water scented with cardamoms and tulsi leaves ?’ She gestured as if she was holding the baby in her palms and mumbled a lullaby in her native dialect.
‘ I must leave anyway. Most of my people have gone back. But I shall come again to see my baby’, said my dad.
He did come when I was an year old. By then, my grand mother had passed way, leaving her sickle and scissors behind. She had however the satisfaction of giving me cardamom -scented warm water bath and gentle swing in her degenerated palms .
‘ I want this little plant to whom I gave life to grow on these hills, watching the lavishly moving clouds and listening to the whisper of air from the Emerald lakes,’ mother said.
Father returned disappointed.
‘Did you meet him later,?” Parasu asked.
‘I did, when I went to UK for higher studies . We will talk about that later. But I can tell you one thing, ‘ women, generally, do not flap their eyes when the Fate aims a powerful torch at their face’
‘You said it once,’Parasu reminded.
‘She did, ‘ Ammalu intervened, ‘ Repetition never dims the glamour of such words and phrases’
Oh! Parama Sukham – Chapter 04
Sometime, old people act wisely.
This is the pic. of the famous Sreekanteswarm Temple in Thiruvananthapuram, adjacent to my wife’s house
“Oi, Omma pon ennapennaral -what is your daughter doing,?” Parasu asked his cousin.
Krishnaiyer gave some standard reply, which was not of concern for Parasu. He got the information he wanted, that his daughter was not married.
“Good. Coming Friday evening, come to my athai’s house at Olavakkode prepared for nitchithartham” Parasu instructed left the place.
Krishnaiyer, a simple man, stood there without knowing what to do but as all good husbands would act, went home and told his wife about his encounter with Parasu. She would have rejected it as a casual remark, but for the clarity in the message linking Olavakkode family, which was closely related to her, and the stipulation of even the time for nitchithartham as if all the formidable formalities were completed.
Though closely related, there was no contact between the two families for years, but they would not think twice if the proposal was real and made seriously.They were in utter confusion, close relatives were called and discussed and everyone bombarded Iyer for not ascertaining the complete facts.
“You could have at least brought him home” His wife complained.
“Aa kazuveridamon avide ninnalalle? He just vanished into thin air. I was stunned for a moment when he brought up such an important proposal and I did not know what to ask “
Why Krishnaiyer? Won’t you too be stunned, if a relative meets you on the street and ask you to come prepared for the nitchithartham of your daughter with a boy of a known family .
“It was not just a proposal”, P.M.S, the elder brother of Krishnaiyer and head of the family,said,”It was an instruction for action within a time limit. We have just two days.How to take it seriously or how to ignore, is the question..Parasu is not an idiot, though sometimes, he acts as one,with a purpose. Without athangal’s (my mother) orders, he wouldn’t have made that proposal”
They searched for the man who threw a stone into the pond and quietly vanished. It was, in fact, a ‘thimingalam’–shark that he threw into the Sreekanteswaram pond and not just a pebble. That man had already left T’puram. How to collect more information?
Letters would take ages. Sending telegram was a possibility but what to write? it would be foolish to ask my father, whether they should go to Palakkad for nichithartham, as suggested by Parasu. Even promissory notes are not executed without certain preparations. A decision was taken by the seniors, in the family conference, after prolonged debate and discussion, to send the parents of the girl to Olavakkode house, under the leadership of P.M.S, the family head and a leading businessman, good at negotiating and decision making. Athai, Krishna Iyer’s elder sister, a capable senior member respected by everyone in the family and the girl’s mother also would accompany. The composition of the team was carefully chosen to match my father’s sophistication and shrewdness. The strategy worked out was that they would pretend that were on their way to the Pazhani temple , just making a casual visit, breaking the journey at Olavakkode to meet their kin. In case, my father raised the issue of marriage, they would negotiate. Otherwise, they all would go to Pazhani, males would go for a clean shave of their head,worship the Lord,say ‘hara haro hara’ and return. They came . My parents were delighted by their visit, though they didn’t know the purpose, since Parasu hadn’t met them, after he returned from T.puram.
Anyway, things have to come out and they did .
During the general discussion, my father mentioned that he was looking for a girl for me and then, the guests disclosed that Parasu had already mentioned it to them and since they were planning a pilgrimage trip to Pazhani, they thought it would be a good idea to drop at Olavakkode and discuss with my father about the marriage proposal also. Anyway,a visit was long over due. Introduction well presented.
“We would be delighted to give our daughter to your son, provided your demands are reasonable” The girl’s party mentioned humbly but not casually. “No demands,” father was categorical in his assertion.”Your family is very closely related to my wife and that single criterion would prevent me from making any demands”. He also told them about my age , academic and job particulars.Those were not of any concern for the T.puram party . The fact that I was son of so and so, settled the whole issue. Who bothers about the trivial issues of compatibility in age or education or the job details or the income of the prospective bride groom! My mother was overwhelmed by the prospect of obtaining a girl from her Mankombu family and therefore didn’t ask any question about the girl. Moreover, when she had spent a whole day with her proposed daughter in law, when she was a kid of two years.
When the T. Puram party was getting ready for the nitchitartham , my father again asked, was it not necessary to arrange a meeting between the boy and girl and the answer was a firm ‘no’. My father was still a bit hesitant because he had not seen the girl and what was at stake was his prestige in case I disagree to the proposal. At that moment entered Parasu and assured my father that he knew her personally. “You won’t get a better girl and your son would never say ‘no’,” he assured.
That settled the matter and the Nichithartham was performed. Of course, my father knew that I won’t disagree and I didn’t.
I could reach home only two days before the wedding date and therefore, the same night, we left for T.Puram.That was my maiden visit to that home of Anantha Padmanabha, art and music.The Lord’s magnificent presence fills the whole city, which I consider as the cultural capital of Kerala.
Every house is decorated with at least one or two paintings of the Royal painter, Raja Ravivarma’.The sun doesn’t set there, without hearing a few krithies of Swathi thirunal, from temples, parks or street corners. At T’puram and Kalpathy, pregnant mothers hear the beats of one thala or other, emanating from their oyster within, which holds their pearl. Kids, enter this world singing swaras and before they start going to school, singing keerthanas.
There were about forty people in our group, which included six- months old babies to seventy five years old men and women. Railway station was at a walk-able distance from our house and therefore, as it always happen, we started just five minutes before the arrival of the train. It was night, the benevolent sky sent it’s best wishes in the form of heavy rains and by the time we reached the station, everyone was fully drenched. For lack of time to change the dress in the waiting room which was dark, we boarded the train which was ill-lit, as usual.It was a sight to watch all the menfolk, holding the key tied to the sacred thread and bending down their head,struggling to open the metal boxes, to remove dry clothes. Nowhere else did I see the habit of using the sacred thread for securing the keys, as in our place. women were shivering with their water-soaked kanchi silks stuck to their skin firmly. The rains continued unabated and the train was not in a mood to start; kids were becoming restless and old men had already started snoring, unaware of the struggle the womenfolk were undergoing to change their cloth in the crowded train. After an hour, the train started, hesitantly as if it was not its job. Chami pattar,who was snoring till then, remembered that he had left his snuff box at our house and would like to go back and collect it. Parasu, suggested,” Chadikkolu,swamy; aduthavandiyil varam–Jump and catch the next train”.
He didn’t jump. Sometime, old people act wisely.
Love and regards,
sperinkulam Ocala, Florida
http://sreekanteswaramtemple.com/images/head.jpg
This is the pic. of the famous Sreekanteswarm Temple in Thiruvananthapuram, adjacent to my wife’s house
“Oi, Omma pon ennapennaral -what is your daughter doing,?” Parasu asked his cousin.
Krishnaiyer gave some standard reply, which was not of concern for Parasu. He got the information he wanted, that his daughter was not married.
“Good. Coming Friday evening, come to my athai’s house at Olavakkode prepared for nitchithartham” Parasu instructed left the place.
Krishnaiyer, a simple man, stood there without knowing what to do but as all good husbands would act, went home and told his wife about his encounter with Parasu. She would have rejected it as a casual remark, but for the clarity in the message linking Olavakkode family, which was closely related to her, and the stipulation of even the time for nitchithartham as if all the formidable formalities were completed.
Though closely related, there was no contact between the two families for years, but they would not think twice if the proposal was real and made seriously.They were in utter confusion, close relatives were called and discussed and everyone bombarded Iyer for not ascertaining the complete facts.
“You could have at least brought him home” His wife complained.
“Aa kazuveridamon avide ninnalalle? He just vanished into thin air. I was stunned for a moment when he brought up such an important proposal and I did not know what to ask “
Why Krishnaiyer? Won’t you too be stunned, if a relative meets you on the street and ask you to come prepared for the nitchithartham of your daughter with a boy of a known family .
“It was not just a proposal”, P.M.S, the elder brother of Krishnaiyer and head of the family,said,”It was an instruction for action within a time limit. We have just two days.How to take it seriously or how to ignore, is the question..Parasu is not an idiot, though sometimes, he acts as one,with a purpose. Without athangal’s (my mother) orders, he wouldn’t have made that proposal”
They searched for the man who threw a stone into the pond and quietly vanished. It was, in fact, a ‘thimingalam’–shark that he threw into the Sreekanteswaram pond and not just a pebble. That man had already left T’puram. How to collect more information?
Letters would take ages. Sending telegram was a possibility but what to write? it would be foolish to ask my father, whether they should go to Palakkad for nichithartham, as suggested by Parasu. Even promissory notes are not executed without certain preparations. A decision was taken by the seniors, in the family conference, after prolonged debate and discussion, to send the parents of the girl to Olavakkode house, under the leadership of P.M.S, the family head and a leading businessman, good at negotiating and decision making. Athai, Krishna Iyer’s elder sister, a capable senior member respected by everyone in the family and the girl’s mother also would accompany. The composition of the team was carefully chosen to match my father’s sophistication and shrewdness. The strategy worked out was that they would pretend that were on their way to the Pazhani temple , just making a casual visit, breaking the journey at Olavakkode to meet their kin. In case, my father raised the issue of marriage, they would negotiate. Otherwise, they all would go to Pazhani, males would go for a clean shave of their head,worship the Lord,say ‘hara haro hara’ and return. They came . My parents were delighted by their visit, though they didn’t know the purpose, since Parasu hadn’t met them, after he returned from T.puram.
Anyway, things have to come out and they did .
During the general discussion, my father mentioned that he was looking for a girl for me and then, the guests disclosed that Parasu had already mentioned it to them and since they were planning a pilgrimage trip to Pazhani, they thought it would be a good idea to drop at Olavakkode and discuss with my father about the marriage proposal also. Anyway,a visit was long over due. Introduction well presented.
“We would be delighted to give our daughter to your son, provided your demands are reasonable” The girl’s party mentioned humbly but not casually. “No demands,” father was categorical in his assertion.”Your family is very closely related to my wife and that single criterion would prevent me from making any demands”. He also told them about my age , academic and job particulars.Those were not of any concern for the T.puram party . The fact that I was son of so and so, settled the whole issue. Who bothers about the trivial issues of compatibility in age or education or the job details or the income of the prospective bride groom! My mother was overwhelmed by the prospect of obtaining a girl from her Mankombu family and therefore didn’t ask any question about the girl. Moreover, when she had spent a whole day with her proposed daughter in law, when she was a kid of two years.
When the T. Puram party was getting ready for the nitchitartham , my father again asked, was it not necessary to arrange a meeting between the boy and girl and the answer was a firm ‘no’. My father was still a bit hesitant because he had not seen the girl and what was at stake was his prestige in case I disagree to the proposal. At that moment entered Parasu and assured my father that he knew her personally. “You won’t get a better girl and your son would never say ‘no’,” he assured.
That settled the matter and the Nichithartham was performed. Of course, my father knew that I won’t disagree and I didn’t.
I could reach home only two days before the wedding date and therefore, the same night, we left for T.Puram.That was my maiden visit to that home of Anantha Padmanabha, art and music.The Lord’s magnificent presence fills the whole city, which I consider as the cultural capital of Kerala.
Every house is decorated with at least one or two paintings of the Royal painter, Raja Ravivarma’.The sun doesn’t set there, without hearing a few krithies of Swathi thirunal, from temples, parks or street corners. At T’puram and Kalpathy, pregnant mothers hear the beats of one thala or other, emanating from their oyster within, which holds their pearl. Kids, enter this world singing swaras and before they start going to school, singing keerthanas.
There were about forty people in our group, which included six- months old babies to seventy five years old men and women. Railway station was at a walk-able distance from our house and therefore, as it always happen, we started just five minutes before the arrival of the train. It was night, the benevolent sky sent it’s best wishes in the form of heavy rains and by the time we reached the station, everyone was fully drenched. For lack of time to change the dress in the waiting room which was dark, we boarded the train which was ill-lit, as usual.It was a sight to watch all the menfolk, holding the key tied to the sacred thread and bending down their head,struggling to open the metal boxes, to remove dry clothes. Nowhere else did I see the habit of using the sacred thread for securing the keys, as in our place. women were shivering with their water-soaked kanchi silks stuck to their skin firmly. The rains continued unabated and the train was not in a mood to start; kids were becoming restless and old men had already started snoring, unaware of the struggle the womenfolk were undergoing to change their cloth in the crowded train. After an hour, the train started, hesitantly as if it was not its job. Chami pattar,who was snoring till then, remembered that he had left his snuff box at our house and would like to go back and collect it. Parasu, suggested,” Chadikkolu,swamy; aduthavandiyil varam–Jump and catch the next train”.
He didn’t jump. Sometime, old people act wisely.
Love and regards,
sperinkulam Ocala, Florida
Pitchumani and his non vadama wife – Chapter 07
Meera prepared food, mostly north Indian dishes and served. She, then helped Liz to dress up in Indian style, with sari, pottu and bangles and when we were about to start, Meera asked us to relax for some more time, picked up the car key and went out with athai. I could guess that they have made a pilot trip to give their impression about Elizabeth and also inform Seshus that Pitchu was yet to marry and the children were not theirs. This was to create a conducive climate before Elizabeth reaches there. Amazing girl !
Meera returned after an hour when I was about to start with my guests, Alamumami’s called Meera.
” Perias, I am going to drop Pitch and Liz in mama’s house.”
“Not without me”
“Yes, without you.”
“Okey, then do one thing. Leave the car with Pitchu and you take an auto to return.”I said, “pitchu, you can keep the car till you return to U.S. Hope you have not forgotten the road rules here and your Indian license is still valid ”
I miss many things on the U.S.A roads though they are wide, even and decently demarcated :
Buffaloes, traffic constables, beggars and above all human beings. Except in cities like New York or Washington DC, no people are found on the roads,leave away the highways, even on the suburban roads.
Though you are not sure of returning home safely in Indian roads, there is a thrill in driving, expecting someone to jump before your vehicle, from any direction other than above. Here, I long to see, a marriage procession, with the bride groom on a horse, men, women and children in colourful dresses dancing on the roads accompanied by the band musicians, least worried about the traffic jams caused by the procession; I long to hear the sound of horn at least from one vehicle when thousands of them are plying in lines, one after the other, in high speed; I long to see a temple procession with women, clad in their best, carrying decorated mud pots filled with water and topped with a bunch of neem leaves followed by a Potharaju, whipping his back with a big coir rope and making noises; I long to see bullocks dragging the carts behind, moving absolutely unconcerned about other vehicles, but in straight line and to the correct destination, though the driver will enjoy a good sleep till the destination is reached.
Not even a street dog, cow or even a crow !
When Meera took them to Seshumama’s house, I felt that my importance was snatched by her. Let her come back.
.
Even after half an hour of her return, Meera didn’t tell me the reason for her neglecting me and therefore, I casually remarked,
” Meera, it is good that you spared me the trouble of dropping my guests to their house.I could clear my table” I remarked concealing my anger with an untimely smile.
Chiding me for getting annoyed, she explained the reason:
In Seshumama’s house, womenfolk keep away from the pooja room, kitchen and main hall during their monthly periods and Alamumami wanted Meera to verify from Elizabeth that she was not presently under such restriction !!
” Could you have ascertained it from Liz or could I in your presence ? ” She asked, showing a V sign.
I couldn’t visit ‘Seshadri Nilayam’ for the next couple of days. However, I learned from Meera, that Pitch and Elizabeth received a very cordial welcome.
Mami and her elder daughter Lakshmi, received them with ‘harath’y and Seshumama, collected the two dollar coins dropped in the arathi vessel by his son and instead, handed over two, one rupee coins to his wife and daughter. Coins are coins .
Mama , who seldom wears shirt while at home, was seen with a colour T- shirt, gifted by his son sometime ago and mami, wore one of her best Kanchi sarees, bought for her wedding. Athai was in her usual starched and pressed bright white dress and children all were also in their bests. Mama and mami became very emotional and with moist eyes, went inside, in two different directions. When they returned, Athai had already served coffee and some snacks. Elizabeth was, contrary to expectation, quite comfortable, whereas, Pitchu was a bit uneasy with the dust here and there.
” Three days are over since Pitchu and Liz arrived, but you have not even started making arrangements for their wedding”, Meera reminded me, when I was enjoying my morning coffee, on the terrace of my house.
“Bhagyavantham prasooyeda”, Kunthi blessed Draupathy, when she came to take her blessings; nothing unusual about it. But the next few words are unforgettable. ” Ma sooram, ma cha panditham”.
“May you be blessed with a lucky son, but not a brave or scholarly one”. The agony of a mother blessed with children of extreme valour and wisdom, but living in misfortune and misery cannot be said in a better way”
I continued with my high voltage assault on the unprepared Meera .
“I have often heard mothers saying that their children should become Einstein or Bill Gate. I tell them to pray for a normal healthy child without any mental or physical disorders, with a strong but kind heart and plenty of luck.
“I used to preside over the meetings of the parents of the mentally disabled children and some of them used to express their fear that, after their passing away, there were none to look after their unfortunate son or daughter and therefore they wished that those children per-decease them “. I continued .
“I am sure that my grand mother would have blessed her daughter in law, as Kunthi did, and that is why I am born as a lucky guy to have a friend like you, Meera’
” Mera thamak karaabh kardiya, aap. subhe, subhe- you have spoiled my moods in the morning” Meera chided and exhorted, “why don’t you go and see what is happening in SN, instead of torturing me with your monotonous monologue ?”
I was about to take my vehicle when my friend Dr. Chalpathy Rao came in parking his vehicle on the front.
Some are serious as if the burden of governing the entire universe is on their shoulders and some, despite heavy responsibilities behave as if they have come to this world for a holiday and every day is a holiday for them. Dr. Rao belongs to the latter category. He is a respected cardiac surgeon in the city. His patients’ hearts are as dear to him as his own and he dwells in their heart almost as an integral part.
” There is a nest hanging from the ‘nimbu chettu’, near the well,” he remarked, tasting the red wine handed over by Meera, ” ask the kids who play around not to destroy it ”
I had never noticed that nest hanging from a lemon plant in a corner.
We don’t often observe the changes taking place in our garden or even in our own body or in our behavior, unless others point out.
My maiden visit to USA – Chapter 04
Ammalu gets another daughter
Clad in a colourful sari, the air hostess, standing erect at the entrance of the flight, like a lamp post wrapped with colour papers, greeted me with a warm “Namaskar” and folded hands. I was pleased by her gesture, unusual for a girl of her age and blessed her, ‘Deergha sumaghali bhava’
‘What does it mean, panditji?’ she enquired.
‘May your mangal sootre last long; may your husband live long ‘
‘How? I am unmarried,’ she replied.
‘You will get married soon,’ I replied confidently.
‘Will I? Thank you so much Panditji. I am sure you are an astrologer’
One or two passengers behind me hurriedly extended their hands towards me to read their palms and predict their future. Gracefully nodding my head, I asked them to wait by a hand signal and made Ammalu comfortable in the window seat.
When I turned my neck after loding the hand luggage, I could see my cousin, Parasu, sitting behind our row.
‘You here, Parasu? ‘ I expressed my astonishment and inquired, ‘When did you jump the prison wall ?’
There was a mild commotion in the nearby seats and the occupants turned their attention towards my cousin, raising their eye brows in appreciation of his presumptive stature of a politician.
Parasu enjoyed their glow in the eyes and looked down at his pants feeling sorry for not donning the Pancha the Telugu politicians usually wear.
‘On parole,’ he mentioned casually, as it was like coming out of his Kavassery village and walking down to the nearest bus stop.
When I was about to occupy my central seat near Ammalu, The Lamp-post girl, approached addressing me ‘Appa!’
Astounded, Ammalu tried to get up from her seat; the seat belt prevented. I signaled to resume her seat and told the girl, ‘Appa’ is ‘father’ in Tamil. To the best of my knowledge I am not your papa ‘
‘am prepared to trust your words although the element of doubt in your statement worries me’
‘What is there to worry, child. One can’t be definite on such issues’
‘You look so pious. Your tuft, ‘kadukkan’ on your ears, ash mark and pottu on your forehead?’
‘What has my tuft to do with the play of my mind? That of course, doesn’t mean that I am an indecent man. It is just to warn you that in the case of OTHER PEOPLE, you shouldn’t go by the appearance alone.’
‘Anyway, you blessed me a long married life’
‘Any fool who blesses you, is not your ‘Appa’’
‘I know that . But I will call you ‘Appa’ only. That is how father-in-law too is addressed in Tamil, I am told.’
Ammalu, now shocked, made another attempt to raise.
‘But I am not your father-in-law either,’ I was now firmer in my reply to the girl.
.’And there is no element of doubt in this statement, as I know my sons. What say Ammalu?,’ I turned towards her but she was yet to come to a conclusion whether I am that girl’s father or father in law.
‘You will shortly be one soon. Because your son loves me’
That was a lambast from the Lamp- post girl.
This time Ammalu removed her seat-belt and pounced at the girl, “ennadi olararai? what non -sense are you talking?’
‘Calm down Ammalu” I pacified her, “one day or other this is bound to happen. which one is the only question to be asked ‘
“Which one !! how many sons do you have?”
The lovely girl’s long eyebrows curved up. ‘For the time being, three. If God permits and the lady by my side grants me another boon, by the time I go back-—‘
‘Am I your duplicating machine ?’ Ammalu asked with a naughty smile and chided me, ‘ a greedy wolf”
‘Not really?’ I was in high spirit. ‘Remember the bumper crop our parents had’
The LP girl was waiting for an opportunity for our romantic dialogue to end.
‘How was it that my lover told me that he is the only son and will inherit a large estate, two breweries and three 5-star hotels, when his father pops off? ‘ She asked.
‘My possessions are contained in this bag and in the hand suitcase in the cabin above’
I showed her my bags and added, ‘the other movable asset is the mother of my children sitting here, though by virtue of her size whether you will able to move her away is a matter of concern’
Parasu who was overhearing our conversation, intervened. The boy you are talking about, I mean your lover, is a tall guy, right?’ He asked her.
‘Yes sir,’ she replied, ‘ he is the most handsome boy, I ever met. He is fair and has curly hairs like yours’
‘Then, he is my son. And I am the possessor of all the properties you mentioned’
‘Could be,’ I endorsed, ‘Child, now address him as “Appa”
‘am sorry for the trouble I gave you, uncle,’ The innocent one apologized.
‘Kiran told me that his father was leaving for US by this flight and it is easy to identify him by his dothy and hence, I troubled you, Sir. Now I will speak to that gentleman’
‘But that ‘gentleman’ in not wearing doggy,’ Ammalu chipped in.
‘That doesn’t matter now. He is in possession of a large estate, two breweries and three 5-star hotels anyway.’
I was worried that crooked Parasu might take advantage of that innocent girl’s plight and I wanted to save her.
‘Child, think twice before you talk to him. He has already transferred all those properties in his daughter’s name . That was the reason why my son loved and subsequently married her’
‘’Who is telling lie, who is telling truth, I’m totally confused.’
‘Both of them are liars,’ Ammalu commented and added, ‘Your Kiran too is a lier’
‘Madam, Kiran too?’
‘Yes, undoubtedly. Do you know where does he come from?”
‘Hyderabad, he said’
‘Which part?’
‘He didn’t tell me that’
‘And you didn’t ask. You know his parents?’
‘No, they are very wealthy, he said’
‘You don’t have any other information about him?’
‘No, but I can collect’
‘Ok. Do that. Then, you approach this gentleman whose card I’m giving you.
He is closely related to us. Treat him as your close relative and consult him before you move an inch in your love. I too will be in contact with him and learn the progress.
Where do your parents live?”
She pointed to the roof of the plane, with swollen eyes
‘Sorry,’ said Ammalu, ‘ we are your parents now on.
‘My fear is Kiran’s intentions are not good. You are good looking; have a good job. A boy who tries to win the heart of girl declaring his wealthy background, without giving any other particulars, not even his house address, can’t be very trustworthy. . Thai is my assessment. Anyway we will find a solution’
Ammalu hugged the girl heartily and both were silent for sometime.
The air hostess said, ‘excuse me, mom” and went to receive another passenger.
‘So, Ammalu, our family is growing further,’ I taunted her, ‘madam to mom is a big jump’
‘It is, I’m proud of my new status’ Her happiness was blossoming on her eyes.
Baltimore,
Nove. 15, 2011
Sent from my iPad
My maiden visit to USA – Chapter 03
Sambharam and Sarpagandhi
‘As a security measure, Pantalu garu,’ remarked the smiling man on the counter when we went for check- in, ‘we want to ensure that you packed your suitcases, yourself ‘
‘No, sir. I didn’t.’
My reply was curt and with my standard head shake to emphasize my point.
He stared at me as if I told him that I had lost my passport. The Professor too was equally stunned by my answer and came forward to offer an explanation.
‘Are you the passenger, Sir?’ the official asked him.
‘No, I am not. But it was me who helped him in packing, considering his age . And the packing was done in his presence’
‘The packing was not done in my presence and it was not done by the learned professor, my relative. It was done by a dozen people who dumped their things into these suitcases, with my permission, of course’
The prof. again wanted to say something but the official cut him short, ‘let the passenger continue. He seems to be an innocent truth-speaking villager’
‘Excuse me sir, I’m not innocent and I’m not a villager, but as you said I’m truth -speaking. I have been always and everyone in this city knows this truth. Are you in Hyderabad from 1959?’
‘I was not born then’
‘There lies the root of the problem. Now, coming back to the suit cases, the first two boxes were packed by my wife herself and the other two doesn’t contain a single item of mine. They are all gift items, packed by my friends in my suitcase for delivery to their kin’
‘Could you at least tell me what they contain?’
‘How on earth can I , young man? I didn’t pack them nor the packing was done in my presence’
The official consulted someone sitting behind him with a dull face and dry look and reluctantly said , ‘ very sorry Pantulu garu, we cannot accept those two baggage’
‘There is a sloka in Sanskrit–‘ I started to recite an old one.
‘Sorry sir, I do not know Sanskrit’
‘I too do not know that language’, I admitted
‘Ayya, meekku dandalu,’ making a mock salutation, the professor intervened, ‘ tell me what I am to do with the rejected baggage? Carry on my head around your colony, locate the owners and distribute the materials?’. Had I been younger to him, he would have slapped me on my face.
But the professor had no reason to get angry. The owners were waiting at a distance to ensure the safe passage of their goods!. The Bolaram airport of those days, allowed visitors to come up to a point close to the baggage check-in counters.
Ammalu was sad and angry.
‘What all I could have carried for my children ! He wasted two suitcase-space unnecessarily,’ she complained about me, to the prof.
The officer at the immigration counter was stiff and formal. He looked at me and Ammalu alternately and twinkling over his thick- framed spectacle, asked her with an insipid smile,’ so, madam, you are going to America, to celebrate the wedding of your son or daughter and this Pantulu will be conducting the wedding ?’
‘No. Pantalu na pathi devudandi -he is my husband’
I looked deep into her eyes for her calling me ‘pantalu’ for the first time.
‘Just for pun’, she smiled and added, ‘didn’t I ask you to wear your pants and not your usual Panchagatcham?’
‘Ammalu Madam!’ Addressing Ammalu with a tinge of sarcasm, I said, ‘ there should be compatibility between husband and wife, not only in attitude, but in appearance and apparel too’
‘ If I look much younger, it is because, I’m younger to you and my habits and thoughts are clean. The change over to salwar kameeze is to help my easy movement in elevators and as per the instruction of my daughter in law. Unreasonable attachment to anything, all the more to orthodoxy, is unhelpful’
The officer was not interested in our arguments. ‘OK, OK, I am sorry for my wrong assessment’ .
Glancing at my face and photograph in the passport alternately, he asked with a suspicious look, ‘ are you sure sir, this is your passport?’
‘Of course, it is mine’
‘Then the face is not yours’. He enjoyed his joke and promoted by facial expression, others too to laugh.
‘Yes, you are right. I didn’t like my earlier face; so I got it transformed’
‘Through surgery?’
‘No, through forgery’
‘How, how?’
Sankaracharya. through a rare Yoga practice, could exchange his body. I used the same Yoga to change my face’
The people around started crowding me and someone commented, ‘See his new face is glowing’
‘An young lady from behind, pushed aside others and enquired, Sankaracharya garu, ekkada unnarendi- where is Sankaracharya?’
Prof. Nandur, just returned after distributing dolls and others to the concerned owners, was fuming with anger. He answered the lady, pointing his finger towards me , ‘Mee mungattanae unnaru- he is standing before you ‘
The officer didn’t like my becoming popular in his office. He was sure that I was not the original Sankaracharya, but there was some mystery in my appearance and argument, he would have thought. So, he cut me short.
‘Ok, in the passport photo, you are with a turban. What didn’t you wear that turban on your new head?’
‘My scalp is not bald now’
His senior from the next table came and admonished my interviewer.
‘Anjayya, you are wasting time. Has he got a head?’
‘yes, Sir?’
‘Stamp the papers and attend the next passenger’
He stamped my paper, stood up as a mark of respect or to prompt me to move quickly.
Next, security check.
‘Shoes and coat? Please place in that basket’
.’Lethandi’
‘Your waist-pouch, belt or wallet?’
‘Lethandi’
‘Any other stuff not allowed to carry in person’
‘Lethandi’
‘What lethandi, lethandi?’ He was vexed with my monotonous reply. ‘This flight is not for Gopisetty palayam’
‘Look, gentleman, I have a valid passport and boarding pass.That is all what I need to board the flight whether it flies to New York or Nellikkuppam. And you need not worry about my security. Have you heard of Kalarippayyattu, the martial art of Kerala? I am an expert in that’
‘But, you do not appear to be a martial master’
‘Don’t go by appearance. Once upon a time —‘
‘That is OK, what do you have in that small bag?”
‘Sambharam, sarpagandhi—‘
The immigration officials, from coastal Andhra, had never before heard those names.
‘Sambharam?’ what is that? one fellow asked. His companion could not wait for my reply, ‘sarpagandhi, what is that?’ he asked, searching my bag.
I removed a bottle of white liquid from my bag and showed them.
‘Ghudumbha laga undhe!’, remarked one fellow who was familiar with country liquors.
‘This is sambharam, diluted butter milk, aptly flavored and spiced with curry leaves, salt, pepper powder etc’.
`Let me taste it.’ said the Ghudumba expert.
`Brahmandamandi, marvelous,’ the team gulped the entire liquid and cast away the empty bottle.
‘Sorry sir, we can’t allow any liquid in the flight. This is a new rule’
‘But that was not a liquid,’ I mentioned casually, looking at the opposite direction.
‘What was it then?’ They started worrying.
‘It was a gas. But don’t worry; it was a purgative. A mild one though,’ I gave a small explanation also, ‘ I have a problem for bowl-clearance ; was therefore carrying sufficient stock for six months’
‘Devuda, six month quota of purgative, three of us consumed in a matter of few seconds! EdugondalavAdA! ‘
‘Excuse me, I will be back in a moment’ One fellow rushed towards the toilet . The second one moved his palm across his tummy and the third one, with a hand signal warned those around him, to move away. After all, it was a gas and gas vaporizes. Some of the passengers who were in Que too had a feeling that they too were involuntarily inflicted by the malady of sambharam.
When calm was restored the enquiry on sarpagandhi was taken up.
‘That is a medicine for my blood pressure,’ I explained to the concerned officer.’ you can have that too’
‘But, I have no blood pressure’
‘You have a head! Any one with a head or a wife, is bound to have a head ache’
‘If this Brahmin stays here for another five minutes, we all will have not only blood pressure and head ache but we will go mad.’ His staff were united in their opinion.
‘Vellandi, vellandi please carry on’. The head of Security was in a hurry to dispose me off.
Raising his hands above his head, Prof. Nandur , wished us a safe journey and remarked, ‘Have a comfortable journey and memorable stay in US’
‘Chala thanks andi Nandur garu. Memorable indeed will be his sojourn in US, even for our neighbors!’
‘There is a Sanskrit sloka,’ Ammalu said, while boarding the flight and recited a funny couplet in Malayalam which says that a dog’s tail will never get straightened, even after keeping in a straight tube for thousand years:
‘Aayiram kalam kuzhalilitteedilum–…’
‘Hei, wait,’ I interposed; ‘that is not Sanskrit’
‘You told the airport fellow that you don’t know Sanskrit!’
To continue
Oh! Parama Sukham – Chapter 03
The curse of the sapthrishies alone was enough to keep Amman disturbed and deprive of sleep for the whole night and added to that was the kavadies, seashells shooting out of the cloth bag , breaking the knot and turning into fearsome karadies ( bears ) surrounding their master to save him from the blood-thirsty ‘yakshi’, the devilish woman spirit in snow-white dress,who had already devoured Parasu’s friend..
‘ Let the sun rise ‘ . He consoled himself and early morning the next day, rushed to Parasu’s house, not empty handed, but with enough rice, vegetables and fruits, sufficient to meet the family needs at least for a couple of weeks. When he returned, he was smiling, as a remedy was prescribed by Parasu, though the homam suggested would cost him a few hundreds.
One good thing with Parasu, of course, among several others, was that he would do the pooja or homam, for which he was getting remuneration, sincerely, with utmost devotion. So, naturally the Gods ignored his innocent tricks to earn a lively hood and answered his prayers and made the life of the ‘kartha’, the master who made the payment, more comfortable. Not only that. Because of his ready-to-help attitude and ability to do any service, once Parasu enters a house, he would be considered as a member of that family and given full support to maintain his own. He knew how to talk, how to behave and how to reap the best benefit out of the friendship.
Once, a big feast was arranged by a rich farmer for his daughter’s wedding and due to a lightning strike by the hotel employees, not uncommon in Kerala, food arrangements got upset. parasu was called for, and within a couple of hours, food was ready for several hundred guests. He had a strong work force with him and with their help, he arranged to get the required materials within no time and he himself cooked, with the help of a few assistants. It was not a mean achievement, because he hardly had a couple of hours at his disposal. No doubt, he would have made enough money to feed his family for the next six months, but he saved the prestige of the farmer and earned his gratitude and respect.
One night, worried over the thoughts that there was not a single pie in his pocket or a grain of rice in the house, he was walking aimless, through a street where there were some fairly well-to-do farmer’s houses. Suddenly he got an idea, picked up half a dozen stones from the road-side and threw them one by one, on the top of a house and continued his walk. As the street was dark and deserted, his job was easily done. After ten minutes, he returned the same way to find that there was a small group of men and women standing in-front of the same house. They were making noise but he didn’t care them, and continued his walk. They all came running to him seeking his intervention and help to redeem the house of ‘Kuttichathan’ –evil spirit’s nuisance.
“This house will go into ashes, this night” Parasu predicted, “Go and save your children, cattle, paddy stock and other valuables.”
The farmers got panicky and pleaded him to do some tricks to save the house from fire. Parasu, gave a serious look around, pulled out a thread from his veshti,closed his eyes for a minute and wrapped that thread in a leaf plucked from the tree nearby. Handing over it to the owner of the ill-fated house, as carefully as if the bundle contained a poisonous snake, Parasu asked him to dig a 6″x6″ size hole in the eastern corner, and bury the packet.
“Your house is safe now. Sleep well and meet me tomorrow morning for discussion” The farmers immensely thanked him. “Don’t look at that packet, while you bury it” he said while moving away, “unless you want to loose your eyesight”.
“Ships are safe on the shore,” My father used to say. “but they are not meant for that. They are to sail in the turbulent ocean, facing the wrath of waves and winds. Like wise, you may have excellent ideas, marvelous plans, in your mind. You should put them into action. Selling what the customers want is just selling. Selling what you want to sell, is an art. If the customer has no need for your product, create a need for him so that he buys your product and yours only.”
Parasu followed that advice in letter and spirit.
One can’t survive long, with tricks alone anywhere, especially in a place like Kerala. So, he diversified his activities and became an adviser for opening business houses, buying and selling lands and other properties and even cattle. Quantum of business was never a criterion for him and his services were available to buy or sell one cow or for opening a million-investment jewelry shop. Sometime, the venerable planets go cranky. Instead of moving joyfully in the high skies, they keep a watch upon poor humans to make their life miserable unnecessarily. In one such occasion, Parasu borrowed a caged parrot from someone, went to Pollachi cattle market and sat under a tree. Then his name as written on a card-board hanging from that tree was, ‘Pakshi jothidar Parasuvathiar’
When I casually mentioned to him, during one of my visits, about the craze for Vasthu sasthram and gem- remedy in Hyderabad and nearby areas, Parasu, looked deep into my eyes and asked a few questions.
‘Than poikko, jan nokkikolam,-thanks for the tips, now I know what to do” With those words, he got up. That was the last I saw him.
After an year, I happened to read a write-up in a local daily about a respected Pandit Paras Pakkuvetti, renowned astrologer, Palmist, Gem therapist and Vasthu consultant,doing yeomen service to the society. That was my cousin Parasu. I called and congratulated him. I don’t know how and when Parasu acquired expertise in all those fields, but I have reliable information that political leaders and business magnets are his main clients and one cannot meet him without prior appointment.
“I won’t ask any questions about your professional achievements. ” I assured him, “Just tell me what is that ‘Pakkuvetty’, in your name”.
“Last time when we met, I was cutting an areca-nut and you said that one should be able to crack any hard nuts, in life too, with the efficiency of the puny cutter,I had in my hand” Parasu replied, “when I needed a Telugu surname to promote my business I thought there can’t be a better one than Pakkuvetty, the areca nut cutter”
I wrote so elaborately about my cousin Parasu because, it was he who found my life partner, within a matter of minutes, a task in which I didn’t succeed, despite my hard work, for several years.
“Parasu, I want you to look for a girl for Konthai”, my father told the solver of insolvable problems, when he came home, in response to my father’s call.”And do it fast.”
‘Valla abadhavum pattiyo?” Partially opening his mouth, packed with betel-leaves, Parasu enquired. It was a polite way of asking whether I had comitted some undesirable acts such as marrying a worthless girl, without my parents’ consent,or had already become a father without marrying one. “Nothing like that. My son is not that type” My father boasted,”he is busy with his work as I am,with my business. A few proposals came but somehow,I didn’t like them. A good-looking girl from a respectable family–that is all my demand.”
“No problem ,athimbar! Ask Kailasa vadyar to be ready for ‘Nichithartham’ engagement function, coming friday evening. Now give me fifty chakrams.”
Chakram was a small coin in the old Thiruvananthapuram royal state, under the Maharaja and despite its invalidity after the king was dethroned, those from the southern part of Kerala used to mention it often. Parsu meant fifty rupees. “I want a bride for my son,” my father said,” and not a buffalo from the pollachi market”
My father was confident that if no suitable girl was found,Parasu was capable of creating one out of his magic wand and therefore, handed over the amount he asked for.
Parasu did create a girl out of his magic wand!
By the next available train, he went to Thiruvananthapuram.
While coming out of the Sreekanteswaram temple, he met his cousin,Krishnaiyer, with an umbrella firmly held in his armpit.
Krishnaiyer was related to my mother and was living close to the Sreekanteswaram temple. For many in kerala, both men and women, umbrella is a constant companion and whether there is a need or not, they sparely step out of their house,without holding it in their hand or preserving it below their armpit. Krisnaiyer used to keep the umbrella, close to his body even while sleeping. “Thookkam sukhamakandamoda– sound sleep without that? ” he used to ask.
For sound sleep, some keep a pillow close by, some a story book, some Geetha or Ramayanam and people of my age, a sex novel. Most of my companions have that good habit, but they keep a picture of gods, between the pages, so that they can have a last look at it,in case, a SOS comes from above.
Many, on this earth, do not get sound sleep with their wife close by and some fall into sleep the moment they see their wives! .
‘Binnaruchirhi lokhaa:–people are of differeent tastes”, said Kalidasa.
My maiden U.S. visit – Chapter 02
Ammalu’s last minute prayer
Prof. Nandur, my daughter Aparna’s father in law,, came with his car to take us to the airport. He weighed the two suitcases and found that the weight was about 65 kilos, the maximum limit permitted by the Airline those days. Before his arrival, I had asked Ammalu to allot some space for me in one of her suit cases.
‘No,’ she said. It was a firm and final ‘No’ . ’When women clad in colorful sari, asks for a favor, you do it instantly, blindly and smilingly, least worrying about the consequences,’ she fumed. ‘I’m am going to USA for the first time and I would like to carry a few things for our children, nephews and other relatives. Did you ever think about it? And should I not have enough stock of clothes for a six months – stay there? . Did you ever think about it ?’
If Prof. Nandur had not entered in, asking, ‘what is going on here, babies?’, Ammalu would have unleashed a few more, ‘did you ever think about it?’.
‘The suitcases are so heavy. What on earth are you carrying to US?,’ Nandur enquired. Then he added, ‘it is natural. You would like to carry maximum during your maiden trip ‘.
‘I am yet to pack my things,’ I confessed, ‘these are the gifts from my friends and neighbors to be delivered to their kin in US’
I have never seen his mouth so wide-opened. ‘You are elder to me; I should be choosy in my words,’ he admonished me. ‘Sir, you haven’t grown much since your childhood. You have no perception about time, distance or money. Indians are scattered in that vast country and you think that your son, busy with his work from 7 a m to 7 p m, five days a week, will have time to dispatch these goods to different destinations? And why should he bear the cost?’
He had one more question. ‘And, where is your luggage, your own personal stuff for six months- stay there?’
‘paropakartha midam sareeramandi -this body is to serve others,’
‘This is not service, this is stupidity’. He lamented.
The gate opened and entered in, my friend Kesava Varrior, an Ayurvedic physician, carrying a big bag in his hand.
‘ I would like you to carry a few medicines, just one or two small bottles of ‘arishtams and Kashayams’ along with some ‘lehyam and choornam’, to a client in Pennsylvania. They are life-saving products. You won’t refuse them, I know, as you have a big heart’
‘Indeed his heart has vast vacant space, not his suit cases,’ intervened Nandur, ‘and your arishtams and aavam bottles can be loaded into his big, spacious heart’
‘Varrior, my two suitcases are already full with others’ gift items and I am left with only a cabin luggage to carry my personal belongings, I explained, ‘still, I will accommodate your life- savers in my cabin luggage. Please pack them, leaving a small area for two sets of dress for me and a pouch holding tooth paste, shaver, medicines ‘
That was before 9/11 and liquids could be carried in cabin luggage.
‘Don’t worry about your dress, medicines, books and other things. I have already packed in my suitcase,’ Ammalu said.
‘I will never get a wife like you in America even if I stay there for six years, Ammalu’
‘Why in America, no where in the world you will find a woman like Amnalu madam’ Prof. Nandur commented and asked our attendant Idumbhu to load the luggage into his big Vehicle.
While the suitcases were getting loaded, Varrior reminded that I was leaving on an inauspicious ‘thithi’.
‘Pull out the luggage,’ he yelled at the professor and turned towards me asking,’how did you miss such an important point?’
‘I am not the one who ignores the thithies, stars and planets, Varrior.. I have left packs of rice and dal in my neighbor’s house, yesterday, to ward off the evil’.
Professor blinked. He never knew the existence of such tricks to fool the stars and planets, which are bent upon troubling us.
From nowhere came running Mrs. Misra , moving heavily all the fat she had accumulated at her front and back, all these years.
‘Pick up her luggage also,’ the prof. taunted me.
Mr Misra passed away a few months before. Though we were close friends, I didn’t appreciate his wife, a widow appearing before us, while proceeding on a long trip. It is not a good omen. But when Mrs. Misra bent her head down to touch my feet, I noticed the ‘kumkum’ mark on her head.
.
‘Bless me for a long married life. I have a fresh husband now, Mr.Sarma is his name’
‘Ye, khyaji, fresh husband, like fresh vegetable?’ I enquired.
‘Ha ji, we got married just a few hours ago. I am Mrs. Sarma now. Sarmaji is a very nice man’
‘He is, I am sure,’ I concurred with her assessment and added, ‘otherwise he wouldn’t have married you’
I gave her my blessings so that Mr. Sarma will live long, sparing his wife the trouble of seeking another fresh husband .
‘How could Mrs. Misra so shamelessly claim that she had become Mrs. Sarma, without flapping an eye-lid,’ Ammalu commented. ‘She used to fast for her husband every Monday, every Thursday and every Saturday?’
‘She is a very practical woman’, I supported Mrs Misra, Sorry Mrs Sarma. ‘She has no children. She needs a human companion. Otherwise, even for buying an aspirin tablet or a sachet of milk, she has to go out herself’
‘So, she remarried for buying an aspirin tablet or a sachet of milk?, Ammalu asked . ‘Not exactly. But milk and medicines too are essential for life,’ Ammalu did not appear to have been convinced with my reply. ‘ A life-long loyalty and memory to be sacrificed at the altar of a small need ? How could she, just by moving a little finger, cast away the torrents of affectionate actions, animated debates, astronomical aspirations, symmetrical and asymmetrical thoughts accumulated through years of sharing life together ? ‘
‘But Mishraji is no more,’ I replied and I was clear about it.
‘Mere death cannot wipe away the husband-wife relation ship’
‘Mere death?’, I asked, ‘how foolish you are! Death ends everything
‘Really? ‘ Amnalu, unusually, is in a talkative mood today. ‘Husband my die, wife may die but their relationship never dies’
‘It is something new to me, ‘ Prof. remarked , ‘I have never heard madam talking more than monosyllables ‘
‘I dislike her action, totally, Nandur garu,’ she commented and went towards our pooja .
‘Went again to say ‘good bye’ to your Guruvayoorappan?’
’No, to request Cherunetturi Baghavathi to bless Mrs. Sarma with MAngalya bhAgyam, prolonged married life’
‘Ammalu, after expressing strong reservation , you went to plead God, for her successfu remarriage! Difficult to know the way your mind works’
‘Which husband has understood his lifemate?’
My maiden visit to USA – Chapter 01
‘My maiden US visit’ is a hilarious and imaginative account of my leaving home for a foreign country.
Chapter. 1
‘Pozhakkatheiryatha brahmanan- innocent Brahmin!’ – that is me!
Every week- end, my children call from America and talk for almost an hour.
‘Are overseas calls free in US ?’ I used to wonder . Once , after discussion about almost everything under the sun, my second son, Atchuth, who weighs his words in a Mettler balance before spilling, like his mother and unlike his father, inquired, ‘ Dad! When is Ramiah’s black cow’s confinement expected ? ‘
While studying here, he never used to bother whether the milk he was drinking was that of cow’s or camel’s. Now he wants to know minutely about every happening here at home, his town and his country, including the expected delivery date of neighbour Ramiah’s cow!! Poor kids, they long for the smell of the soil from which they sprouted! ‘Please get me a picture of our cow Kavery when you come to US,’ he demanded.
Yes, my maiden US trip has been organized by my children and I am excited.
A list of dos and don’ts followed and my first trial of instruction number one, was with my cook, Kalyani. When she entered my room with morning coffee, I greeted her by a pleasant ‘hai’ and then said ‘thank you’, when she kept the tumbler on the central table. She looked into my eyes sternly, waited for a while keenly observing the way I was sipping from the tumbler instead of raising it a foot high. While she came closer to remove the coffee tumbler, I grabbed her hand and again said ‘thank you’. There is a limit for anything. She looked at my eyes, as if she was looking at them for the first time, collected the tumbler, bolted out murmuring, “Pavam, Sámi; yakshi piditchu”- poor Sir, he is under the influence of an evil force !
‘Ramu, excuse me, will you please sneeze for me?’
I asked the boy next door, ‘I wanted to say ‘bless you’!’
‘Say bless you’ when someone sneezes- was the instruction no. 2
‘Sneezing and snoring can’t be forced upon, grand pa,’ the disobedient kid chided, ‘you should have known by now’. When I explained to him that it was a part of my trials, he retorted, !then, you should sneeze, not me!’
I attempted a mock sneeze and failed miserably. He responded spontaneously, ‘Bless you! You need that in tons’
See how he talks at eight? I never dared to talk to any elders so arrogantly even at forty eight!
Home is hardly an ideal place for practicing, I realized by now and decided to continue my practice outdoor.
‘Amma! Parvada vardhini! Bagunnava- how do you do?,’ I inquired as I entered my former colleague’s house and declared:
‘within a month I am off to America . Have you heard about that great country? You know it is…..’. I spread my hands sideways to impress upon her that country’s size.
‘Am I looking like a ‘parvatham’-mountain for your soda-glass eyes?,’ She yelled, ‘one hundred times, I have asked you to call me Puppy’
‘Puppy sounds like a pet dog’s name,’ I tried to reason out with her,’ and your worthy parents would have named you after a mountain, probably foreseeing your future development and expansion’
Ignoring my explanation, she called her servant woman, Pochamma and ordered, ‘tell him how many times you visited US, so far, to baby-sit my grand daughter?’
‘Five or six, Pappi,’ she replied in a semi American accent and in fully American style of addressing known people by their first name.
Kitta Anna is my neighbor. He was my senior while in service, but even though both of us retired long ago, he still considers me his subordinate. I sneaked into his house after making sure that he had left for his morning walk and only Manni (his wife) was at home. ‘Manni! I have good news,’ I said while entering the house.
‘You bought a new ball pen??’ she inquired.
‘Why should I, when I can get a new one every time I borrow from others? ‘ I joked and declared, ‘I am going to US shortly.’
She discarded the broomstick in a corner and rushed inside to get sweets for me. By that time my venerable former boss entered inquiring, ‘ Ivan enna seiran inke- what is this fellow doing here?’
‘Congratulate him,’ manni prompted her husband, pointing her finger towards me. ‘He is going to America ‘
‘Onakku ennada theriyum- what on earth do you know?’ Anna yelled as usual. That was the question he used to ask me often when I was working as a clerk under him years ago. Then he turned towards his wife and commanded : ‘Ask him whether he can write a leave- letter without five mistakes?’
‘Manni! Tell Anna that I am not going to America to write leave- letters,’ I said, subtly establishing my independence in the post- retirement era.
‘He deplorably lacks common sense and can’t even go to Palakkad without someone’s assistance, and he says that he is going to America’, said Kitta anna and with a contemptuous look, moved away, murmuring, ‘he needs Ammalu’s help even to go to bathroom’
Next, I went to Pazhavoor Parukkutty’s house, in the next street.
She was excited. ‘Anna, how lucky I am! I was waiting to hear this happy news for years’
‘I am a bit confused,’ I responded, worrying whether she was planning to accompany me and spoil my trip, I inquired ‘How does my trip bring you luck and why are you so thrilled on my leaving the country?’
‘Sweet sappidungo-have sweet first’. She handed over a small piece of laddu and within no time, served half-a-tumbler of hot coffee too. I was not prepared for that hospitality from her. It was happening for the first time.
Her husband entered while I was enjoying the coffee.
‘She gave you coffee? he inquired disbelievingly. ‘Mattikkindai- pity you ! you are hooked ,’ he said. I didn’t know what he meant.
That evening Parukkutty came home with five pieces of tapioca pappadams and handing them over to me, gloom pervading her face, as if she was parting with five gold coins, said, ‘my mother brought them from Kollam last month’
‘Your mother brought them last month and you were holding them with you safely so far?,’ I inquired and added, ‘Pappadam and Pazhavur Parukkutty never age’
She was immensely pleased.
Next day she came with another gift: six pieces of ‘thair molakai’ – chillies soaked in curd and dried.
‘These too were brought by your mother last month? ,’ I asked disbelievingly.
‘No, I prepared them, specially, for you?’ she replied, ‘one should be liberal in giving’
‘Indeed, one should be liberal in giving, like you,’ I endorsed .
Next day she came home, with a carton, full of dolls and before opening it, placed on my hands, two ‘cheedai’ balls, so small that even a toddler could swallow twenty at a time.
‘Here are a few dolls for my daughter, Saraswathy, which she says, will bring her prosperity, if I send them through you’
‘Did she say so?,’ I asked raising my head high.
‘She did,’ replied the good lady,’ she knows that you are pious and Godly’
Wah, no woman in my whole district had given me such as a certificate.
I was pleased beyond words. Still, with difficulty, I could collect a few words and said, ‘how the western life refines people! You remember, before she left for US, she used to describe me as having a ‘saintly’ look but a ‘satanic’ outlook.
Parukkutty wanted my earnest opinion on an issue which was disturbing her. ‘Is it appropriate to send, for the first time to a married daughter, these dolls of Rama, Sita and Lakshmanan on their way to forest?’ Then, without waiting for my reply she added, ‘can I send a set of Dasavatharam dolls also?’
‘Please do, I replied. Within ten minutes Mahavishnu’s all avatarams were before me.
Her gloomy look revealed her sadness in Mahavishnu limiting his incarnation to ten.
‘I wanted to pack an Anjaneya also along with these dolls, to accompany you in your first visit across the seas. But, I wanted your permission’
‘Seeking my permission to do me a favor?,’ I chided that innocent woman. ‘After all, it was Anjaneya who crossed the sea, before Columbus or any other sailor’
She walked up to the gate and returned.
’See, I am suggesting this only because I know you well. You are a poet; a man of love and a devotee of Krishna. Carry with you the dolls of those divine lovers, Radha and Krishna too’
My stars have started shining too bright! Women are showering complements on me !
Anju Reddy’s wife Manju, came running, looked deep into my eyes and lamented, ‘ don’t want to talk to you, Sir’
‘Why madam?,’ gazed at her saddened face, ‘did I commit some wrongs, unknowingly?’
‘You worry about the welfare of everyone in this colony, but never take care of your own health. See how anaemic you look!’
Anxiety was overflowing in her words, when she said: How anaemic you look!
‘Anaemic ? Just last week, my Hb value was excellent!’
‘No sir, you are glowing as ever! I was joking,’ she exclaimed with a sigh of relief,. ‘You look as smart as you were ten years before’
‘But Anju! Ten years ago, you were in US! ‘
My smartness never fades but how could she have noticed it from America?
‘My dad always used to talk high about you’ . Her clarification was impressive; her drunkard dad often used to ask me whether I was circular or linear, in shape.
While leaving, she asked me an innocent question; ‘Can I send through you a small packet of ‘avakkai’ pickle for my sister in Texas?’
‘Give me two packets Anju, why one?’
I was really liberal. She, in fact, brought five!!
Like this my load increased. Wet grinder, coconut scrapper, Pulla Reddy sweets, coffee filter, sevai maker, iddli cooker—you name it; I am carrying that. Anju was responsible for collecting the gifts and packing them. She did a good job..
“Pozhakkatheriyatha Brhamana!’ Ammalu took her forefinger to the tip of her nose and looked at me, pitying my foolishness.
Oh! Parama Sukham – Chapter 02
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A turbid mind can turn anything upside down
The ammaman didn’t have much respect for some of his ancestors. He had heard that one Nanumenon had forcibly evicted a poor farmer family from his land and a kombi menon had misbehaved with a worker woman. Any ancestor in Kerala would have indulged in such acts. but that was not the point there. Even one Rishy’s curse is unbearable. So, imagine the magnitude of the sin committed to attract the wrath of seven Rishies. Could it be Vembu menon’s refusal for a nagaprathishta , snake-temple, on a land which he had earmarked for a coconut plant, the cause of curse?
That was, however, not the time to plunge into the blunders of the past. Ammaman rushed after Parasu and brought him back to the chair. “Swamy, namkku onnu murukkam “. He invited parasu for a chew of betel leaves.
The betel chewing had an instant remedy for tension build up within and without. It was a reliable relaxant. Dispute in the family and community had been talked over and settled in betel session. No wonder why partaking of betel from the bride’s hand found a place in the wedding ceremony. Our ancestors were not fools not to expect ‘tushum,tushum’ in the family life.
We didn’t have frequent get together or birthday parties . Some major events like weddings or buying and selling of properties used to be finalized on simple head to head meeting or group discussions on thinnais, front platform of the houses or temple premises. ‘Murukkan’ pan chewing was a must for such gatherings. And another important aspect was there was no caste-disparity or status segregation for chewing pan. You could see a landlord asking for some betel leaves or chuunambu, calcium paste from his low-caste farmer.
“How did the saptharishies come into the picture ? ” Amman enquired after the first dose of chew was pushed in and the waste juice expelled. ” They are benevolent souls, I have heard”
“They would have been pestered by mosquitoes ” Parasu replied, “and even by their wives”
” Quite possible ” Amman agreed,” If wives and mosquitoes go berserk even gods are helpless.
Swamy, I have been observing of late that something or other is going wrong in this family. One of my nieces fell in love with an young man belonging to another caste, cows are yielding less milk, coconut trees are getting infected, children are falling sick, some members of the family are clashing on petty issues etc ”
”Do the kids wet their mats often in sleep ?” Parasu enquired as if the solution for all the problems in the ‘tharavadu’ depends on the reply for that single question. “Let me find out ” said Amman and threw the question into the kitchen. ”Dakashayani, rathri kochangal paayil mootram ozikkunnundo ?”
”Undae” fut, came the reply. ‘they do’.
Parasu did not react. His silence was more disturbing than his prediction.
When you say something it gives some idea, if not all, about your thoughts.
“Say something” I pleaded to Ammalu when she sat in a corner, with bloated cheeks, silently after a petty quarrel. She moved away.
“Don’t I have freedom in this house to push a laddu in my mouth ?” She asked when she returned after some time. That was the first time I realized that wife’s job is not just feeding us. If your wife is not talking to you, don’t worry.
She might be enjoying a laddu. But too many laddus are not good for health. If she keeps mum for hours together, it is not laddu in her mouth but something not so sweet in her heart.
Another day, when she was in a less angry mood, asked, ” is it only my job to deliver your kids ?”
“I think so ” I replied, “and be proud of it “
There was a sunrise on her face. Women grasp things fast.
” Why are you staring at that corner for so long ?” Amman anxiously asked Parasu, ” and why is your face so gloomy ?
Ammaman’s anxiety was turning into fear. A turbid mind can turn anything upside down.
“Entha santhy?” What is the remedy? Ammaman asked, His voice had become unsteady.
Parasu majestically walked to the frontage, closed his eyes, bent his head before the tulasi plant and looked at the sky, for a few minutes.
Then, in a measured tone of a judge awarding capital punishment to a prisoner, predicted, “much worse things are yet to come”, collected his betel leaf casket and walked towards the main gate. Ammaman, with folded hands, followed and requested him to stay back and suggest a way to lift the family out of the curse, it had fallen into.
“Come tomorrow morning to my house” Parasu said. “In the meantime, hand -over, your horoscope now, so that I can study it during night and be ready with a solution, when we meet tomorrow”.
” Shall I accompany you”, Amman enquired, “it is getting dark”
“No need, my kavadies, ( sea shells, which an astrologer uses for knowing the position of stars ) will protect me “
Then Parasu explained how he was actually protected by the shells, when he was crossing a jungle along with a friend, at midnight. A ‘yakshi’, a woman spirit, jumped from a palm tree and carried away his friend for eating. She could not approach parasu as he was surrounded by the kavadies who had taken the shape of bears. “Kavadikal karadikaal aayi -shells became bears ” Amman praised Paarsu. “Ningal oru mahaan aanu- you are a great man!”
Parasu quoted a Sanskrit verse to confirm Amman’s opinion.
Neither he nor Amman understood its meaning.
The ammaman didn’t have much respect for some of his ancestors. He had heard that one Nanumenon had forcibly evicted a poor farmer family from his land and a kombi menon had misbehaved with a worker woman. Any ancestor in Kerala would have indulged in such acts. but that was not the point there. Even one Rishy’s curse is unbearable. So, imagine the magnitude of the sin committed to attract the wrath of seven Rishies. Could it be Vembu menon’s refusal for a nagaprathishta , snake-temple, on a land which he had earmarked for a coconut plant, the cause of curse?
That was, however, not the time to plunge into the blunders of the past. Ammaman rushed after Parasu and brought him back to the chair. “Swamy, namkku onnu murukkam “. He invited parasu for a chew of betel leaves.
The betel chewing had an instant remedy for tension build up within and without. It was a reliable relaxant. Dispute in the family and community had been talked over and settled in betel session. No wonder why partaking of betel from the bride’s hand found a place in the wedding ceremony. Our ancestors were not fools not to expect ‘tushum,tushum’ in the family life.
We didn’t have frequent get together or birthday parties . Some major events like weddings or buying and selling of properties used to be finalized on simple head to head meeting or group discussions on thinnais, front platform of the houses or temple premises. ‘Murukkan’ pan chewing was a must for such gatherings. And another important aspect was there was no caste-disparity or status segregation for chewing pan. You could see a landlord asking for some betel leaves or chuunambu, calcium paste from his low-caste farmer.
“How did the saptharishies come into the picture ? ” Amman enquired after the first dose of chew was pushed in and the waste juice expelled. ” They are benevolent souls, I have heard”
“They would have been pestered by mosquitoes ” Parasu replied, “and even by their wives”
” Quite possible ” Amman agreed,” If wives and mosquitoes go berserk even gods are helpless.
Swamy, I have been observing of late that something or other is going wrong in this family. One of my nieces fell in love with an young man belonging to another caste, cows are yielding less milk, coconut trees are getting infected, children are falling sick, some members of the family are clashing on petty issues etc ”
”Do the kids wet their mats often in sleep ?” Parasu enquired as if the solution for all the problems in the ‘tharavadu’ depends on the reply for that single question. “Let me find out ” said Amman and threw the question into the kitchen. ”Dakashayani, rathri kochangal paayil mootram ozikkunnundo ?”
”Undae” fut, came the reply. ‘they do’.
Parasu did not react. His silence was more disturbing than his prediction.
When you say something it gives some idea, if not all, about your thoughts.
“Say something” I pleaded to Ammalu when she sat in a corner, with bloated cheeks, silently after a petty quarrel. She moved away.
“Don’t I have freedom in this house to push a laddu in my mouth ?” She asked when she returned after some time. That was the first time I realized that wife’s job is not just feeding us. If your wife is not talking to you, don’t worry.
She might be enjoying a laddu. But too many laddus are not good for health. If she keeps mum for hours together, it is not laddu in her mouth but something not so sweet in her heart.
Another day, when she was in a less angry mood, asked, ” is it only my job to deliver your kids ?”
“I think so ” I replied, “and be proud of it “
There was a sunrise on her face. Women grasp things fast.
” Why are you staring at that corner for so long ?” Amman anxiously asked Parasu, ” and why is your face so gloomy ?
Ammaman’s anxiety was turning into fear. A turbid mind can turn anything upside down.
“Entha santhy?” What is the remedy? Ammaman asked, His voice had become unsteady.
Parasu majestically walked to the frontage, closed his eyes, bent his head before the tulasi plant and looked at the sky, for a few minutes.
Then, in a measured tone of a judge awarding capital punishment to a prisoner, predicted, “much worse things are yet to come”, collected his betel leaf casket and walked towards the main gate. Ammaman, with folded hands, followed and requested him to stay back and suggest a way to lift the family out of the curse, it had fallen into.
“Come tomorrow morning to my house” Parasu said. “In the meantime, hand -over, your horoscope now, so that I can study it during night and be ready with a solution, when we meet tomorrow”.
” Shall I accompany you”, Amman enquired, “it is getting dark”
“No need, my kavadies, ( sea shells, which an astrologer uses for knowing the position of stars ) will protect me “
Then Parasu explained how he was actually protected by the shells, when he was crossing a jungle along with a friend, at midnight. A ‘yakshi’, a woman spirit, jumped from a palm tree and carried away his friend for eating. She could not approach parasu as he was surrounded by the kavadies who had taken the shape of bears. “Kavadikal karadikaal aayi -shells became bears ” Amman praised Paarsu. “Ningal oru mahaan aanu- you are a great man!”
Parasu quoted a Sanskrit verse to confirm Amman’s opinion.
Neither he nor Amman understood its meaning.