Category: A04 — THOUGHTS ON SOCIAL AND POLITICAL ISSUES

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I beg to disagree, totally, with the views of Sri.Krishnan, expressed in his article “Kerala-communists’ own country”.
(Click here to read Sri.Krishnan’s article )
Parasurama was a symbolic representation of spirituality and Brahminical  force which subjugated the rude physical force of Kshathriyas. His axe would have chopped  several warrior heads but it is beyond my comprehension that it would have carved out a peace of land out of the sea, though the great saint would have achieved the feat by his yogic powers and used his axe to cut the trees and bushes for the creation of temples. Rishies were able to do much more without an axe or a sword. You may ask, “why didn’t he use the same yogic powers to cut trees?”  Sir, these are stories and let us not argue beyond this..
The sickle and hammer depicted on the communist flags represent agricultural and industrial man power. The sickle is used generally for cutting grains or blades of tall grass and rarely for cutting the heads. So is the use of hammer. Those are not destructive weapons but tools for production. Our comrades would have used a sword or AK 47 gun (which they would have got as a gift from Russia),  if they wanted an armament for their flag.
Vamana , the diminutive human form in the biological evolution of man, immediately after the animal and then the animal cum human manifestation was to foretell how man could grow and expand to an unbelievably huge stature so as to cover the entire universe and still be left with ten finger ( some) space.”Athyathishta dasangulam”.
And you call Mahabali, who bowed  in obeisance to the unexpectedly magnified celestial power and  willingly offered his head to keep up his word and his vow not to deny anything to anyone who came to his door step with a begging bowl? If the part of an ever expanding majestic manifestation could be accommodated on his head how big it would have been and how great that man who bore that head on his shoulder was? Let such ‘demons’ visit not once,but every day,not only one state but the entire world. Will you at least agree with me that he was in fact not pushed down but propelled to a Himalayan height of perpetual bliss and perennial glory?  Krishnan, how many had the blissful privilege to carry that ”Brahma kadukina padamu” ? You can count them on your fingers. I recall instantly, only one human, Ahalya and she had to wait for ages, under the vagaries of weather, in the form of a stone. Mahabali got that bliss unsolicited  and you call him a ‘demon’?
I do not know which musical competition you are mentioning where a non Hindu was selected as a topper. If it is the ‘idea star singer’, I happened to view several sessions,before leaving India though I could not cover the last few sessions when the topper was selected. If memory is not failing me, the ‘youtube.com’ showed Thushar as the topper and his performance for the final was superb though some of his earlier  ones were not much appreciated by me. I am not a music expert and my judgment is purely a layman’s.Tushar sounds a Hindu name though not brahminical. Anyway I am least bothered about anyone’s cast or creed ; I go only by the quality, character and,contribution of a person. Music and art, fortunately do not get strangulated within the borders of caste or creed. Yeshudas and Rahman are our contemporaries and I am sure that you would have heard about them even if you have not heard them, because they are not ‘asmadies’, our own people!.
I was amazed at the musical talents blossoming from the participants of the above competition, especially from the children of  non-brahmin or non-Hindu families. “The future of our music is safe in their hands” I thought and rejoiced. There were days when every Brahmin agraharam used to reverberate with the melody of Carnatic music and today our boys and girls have no time or inclination to sing . By calling the mother of all languages, Sanskrit as divine and not allowing it to go beyond our four walls, we lost that wonderful hereditary asset . Let that not happen to our music also. Music, like language,spreads through usage and caste or creed has no roll in that.
Frankly, I do not have any idea about the “malefic activities”of the Kerala Government or the temple management there but about the Makrajyothy, I would like to know the truth and it should not be difficult to prove whether it is a natural phenomenon or man-made nonsense. I believe that our religious beliefs and spiritual thoughts are capable of standing on their own legs without the support of magic or mesmerism.
And finally Krishnan, I visited your website and found that you are a ‘Garuda’ flying at a great height. How did you nosedive in this article?
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Memories Gone are the days, fortunately in many cases, when the father of a teenage girl, used to carry his daughter’s horoscope, on a selected auspicious day and auspicious time, with the anxiety of a patient entering the surgical ward , to the entrance of the house of an eligible bachelor, clear his throat to draw the attention of the head of the family and place reverently, the yellow-cornered paper which he had brought, at his hands and wait for a favorable reply for weeks, worrying and praying all the Gods known to him . Gone or the days, fortunately in many cases, when the date of the wedding was announced, after discussion and agreement on dowry, the weight and size of the ornaments, the number and size of the brass, copper and silver vessels, clothes and other movable articles to be handed over to the bridegroom’s party, the father of the girl ran like a mad dog, to acquire the cash and materials required for the wedding.

Now we carry our son’s horoscope,door to door and our daughter selects her partner, make all arrangements and invite us for her wedding.

Those who are lamenting about the improvement in the educational and consequently the economic status of the present day girls are perhaps unaware of the mental and physical deprivation the parents of the girls had undergone, as recently as a  couple of decades ago. How will they then be aware of the devastation of the young women of the earlier generations,who were forced to marry widowers of double or triple their age, became widows before reaching their puberty or a few years later , tonsured their head, broke their bangles, discarded all good things and lived like  a condemned prisoner within the four walls of their husband’s house? The ‘athai’ of my Pitchumani story, no doubt is a fictional character but the comments received from the readers of that story was moving -yes, in every village if not in every house there were similar athais or patties, not long ago. Our society was responsible for the tsunami in their life, though we took refuge under the unseen fate’s cruelty or un -protesting  God ‘s necessity to punish them for the deeds of their past life. And now, we boast about the glory of the gone golden era of our community! And  now, when the present generation stand on their own legs and want to live their life according to their own light and direction, we fret and fume as if some one is roasting  Guntur chillies in our kitchen! Our society has suffered enough of poverty and humiliation. Now rejoice when at least some of our families are prospering.
Our children are grown up, educated, exposed to the good and bad things of the world much earlier than us and much more than us. Leave the choice of their life partners to them. If your guidance is sought in the the selection, don’t start your priority list with the horoscope or the name of the Rishy written therein, who lived several centuries ago and presumably started your family in the Sindu or Brahmaputra valley or the sub groups formed as recently as a few  centuries ago when we migrated to the present place. Start with the  boy or girl, who form the core of the marriage. Then your  daughter or son will be lucky to get married, mostly as per your and their choice, before they are 28 or 30. Otherwise, they will curse you through out their life, if they are not smart enough to find their own partners. And please, don’t tell your daughter-in-law, when she enters your house for the first time that the main purpose of bringing her there is to hold a few blades of dry grass standing behind your son to sweep the path of the ancestors when they ascended the celestial citadel.   That is not the  purpose of having a wife and your son knows that. And you also know that.
And when your children prepare architectural sketches to develop colonies in the Moon or Mars, don’t talk to them about Rahu or Gulikan. The journey to other planets, you will agree , is much more arduous and risky than your visiting the cloth shop or native village and Rahukalam is not definitely  one of the items in their check list, before commencing the long journey.
I presume that our interest should be only in having a naughty and healthy grand child and I am sure that our children know how to make that gift to us. So, Leave it to them.
Baltimore,
May 29th, 2008

It was a pleasant surprise for me to meet Sri.Ayalur Venugopal, one of the senior members of our forum, during a music concert in Tampa, last Sunday. Within a matter of minutes, as it happens with we patters (and for which we get scolded by our children )  personal matters almost adequate for writing a biography of the other person was exchanged, unasked!.
. Sri Venugopal gave me a pleasant shock. Looking affectionately and proudly at his wife (sahadarmini, in our VVR’s language), he said that she belongs to Ashtasahasram sub -group- “your group” he said then pointing his finger towards me. Marriage between a vadamal boy and ashtasahsram girl would have been the talk of the town (or village) over sixty years ago. And one thing is certain: On their wedding,the blessings of the elders ” deeeeeerghayushman bhava and deeeeeeergha sumanghali bhava”  would have been pronounced with pretty long deergaswaram and sweet and sanctified tongue and heart.Yes, this couple have passed through the vicissitudes of life, holding hands together, for 60 years!  I wish this family as a whole, who have settled in a foreign land,more and more happiness, peace and prosperity and specially, deeerga deeerga  sumangalitham(still longer married life) for smt.Venugopal . Every one is not blessed the way this couple are; thank you, God!
Now let me come to the topic of to day’s discussion.Will our tribe continue to exist or extinguish? A question frequently raised and debated in our group.
As recently as ten years before, inter-group marriages were few and far, among us. Some thirty years ago, when I went to a Vadamal family asking horoscope for my sister, the house lady, with an uncomfortable look as if there was a fly on my nose or a white patch on my eyebrow, asked, “Ashtashasram allava?” Yes, Vadaml group had an illusion that they was an aura around their head. After two years, for my another sister’s marriage with an iyengar boy whom she loved, the entire wedding arrangements was managed by the bride groom’s family( let every wedding be like that ) and we were not allowed inside the kitchen ; it was manned by cooks bearing sanku and chakram tattooing on their shoulders .When my daughter was married to a Telugu Iyengar family, love marriage of course, some 7 years ago, there was absolutely no disparity, hidden or visible; ‘vratham’ was performed by the boy’s side guided by a  Telugu vaishnavite purohit and marriage was performed as per our customs and procedure. Some three years ago, one of my nephews married an Assamese girl and the wedding was at Gowhati..The vaadyars from Kolkata could not reach in time due to a strike in the airport and I had to act as a purohit though the only manthram I know is “mangalyam thanthuna.”!.It was a real fun. When I handed over the ‘akshathai’ to elders assembled in the pandal, for blessing the couple, they threw it on their own head! Subsequently the bride groom’s party performed the wedding in their own method and it was strictly as ordained in the scriptures.
‘Avaa Palakkattu karalakkum’, the womenfolk whispered in my marriage in Trivandram, though they knew that the  girl’s grand parents had migrated from Palakkad and they were related to us.”Pandiyile poi pon eduthirulkkale amma!” Trivandram people gasped when I attended the wedding of a girl from Nagercoil ! You know the distance between the two towns!.
In the olden days, no one used to wear sandals or shirts in our villages especially while leading in procession, the God’s ratham, singing bhajans or reciting vedam,donning ‘panchgatcahm’ and projecting kudumai. It pains me to observe now that youngsters in jeans and T-shirts whistle and dance mimicking our soap operas. I love whistling and all forms of dancing including the western and folk varieties but certainly not while leading the sacred vehicle of the God. Sanctity is sacrificed, for a momentary pleasure for which there are plenty of other avenues. But it is bound  to be like that when the type of village occupancy changes. It was the result of our disposing our houses to people of a different category who demolished the dilapidated houses and in its place built bungalows. We sold our ancestral  houses because we had no need for them,  we could not maintain them and we moved to a metropolitan city in India or abroad and built  posh apartments with modern facilities. And we expect the God’s vahanam to move through the streets bordered with tiled-roof houses and ‘thinnais’ and ‘muttams’ decorated with ‘kolams’! .
When I was a child, I used to see a number of  Namboodiri women holding ‘olakkuda’ or umbrella made of palm leaf, visiting the Guruvayoor temple. I don’t see a sing ‘olakkuda’ now. I am sure that those women would be still visiting the temple and they continue to be safe sans a protection tool. We are  happy that we can see the God unobstructed and the God too is happy because he can see the womens’ faces better.And Krishna is a God of love and beauty.
Changes are inevitable and you cannot stop them.The habits of Kerala iyers are different from their ancestors in Tanjore or wherever they lived in the Tamil-speaking part of the country and again those of their forebears who, probably came from the Narmada valley as some historians say. Go deeper and deeper, you will land in Africa, mother of human race, according to some scientists.
I have heard that my ancestors had vast landed property and everything was lost, by poor management, and no developmental activities and lack of fresh income.  Had my father not picked up the courage to leave the village and go to a small town, some twenty miles away, where he was the only brahmin , we would have died or starvation or disease or at the best, survived and studied up to matriculation in the village school .Had we not moved, after acquiring higher education in turn to big cities, found good jobs and lived in good surroundings, our children would not have acquired professional qualification and settled in countries beyond the seas. Their next generation or the next, might go to moon or mars and settle there. The nonavailability of the basic requirements prompted my father to migrate and all the migrations are like that.The movement of people has existed throughout human history at various levels. Necessities prompt migration of all species including birds.
If our children are marrying from other caste, again it is out of necessity. They are not able to find the partners of their choice in their own group and are not happy with the parameters set by us.”Your priorities are wrong” they say, “you start with horoscopes, then family and the girl is at the bottom of your list”. Be happy that they are better informed than us and they will not make any wrong choice; and if they make, they suffer. When we arrange a marriage strictly according to our customs and if it fails what could you do and marriages do fail because there are at least two people involved in that and more in combined families. Earlier also, marriages had failed but the women silently suffered the pain due to the restrictions imposed on them.For most of them there was no option. Had the women been educated in those days or economically independent as they were in some Kerala socities, things would have been better. We did not educate our women because we had no means for that or  we did not find the necessity to educate them as they were not to be sent for work for others or outside. And who will do the full time work in our kitchen and prepare different varieties of food for members of different taste and more than twenty dishes to please the departed souls of our ancestors who visit us annually in the form of vadyyars wearing panchagatcham?
So, let me come back to the University of South Florida auditorium, from where I started the story.The programme that evening was a ‘jugalbandhi’ or musical duet between two famous north and south Indian flutists, Pandit Ronu Majumdar and Shashank Subramaniam. The music created by these two masters was rich and mesmerizing. In case your son or daughter has recently married from a different caste or state or country,and a different gender, be happy. The product of different culture, gene and habits will be hopefully superior and the only prayer you have to do is that the child is not borne with any physical or mental deformity.
Venugopal anna and manni (vadamal and ashtasahasram jugalbandhi) and me and my daughter enjoyed the musical extravaganza of the last Sunday evening. I am sure that you too will enjoy the  ‘jugalbandhi’ (the fusion of diverse caste and cultural alliances) of your family. I join in your prayers for a rich and mesmerizing outcome..
One more thing; do not keep worrying whether our tribe will exist or extinguish after 25 or 250 years. Nothing extinguishes; only get transformed and the transformation will be always for good .
So, sleep well. If you do not get sleep even after reading this story read more of them in my website.

‘Agnimeelea purohitham—“

Years ago, Sri. Kailasa vaadyar from Perinkulam, came to Hyderabad to participate in a Maharudra Yagnam . I was to receive him at the Secunderabad railway station but couldn’t reach there, well in time. That was his first visit and  he was not conversant with the local dialects or English. He didn’t even have my address.  I was extremely worried and dashed into the station, expecting to see him pacing up and down the platform with anxiety and anger.

I was wrong. Vaadyar, settled calmly in a corner, was enjoying his betel- leaf and nut mix. He didn’t even ask me why I was late. Moving his right hand down, he signaled me to sit down along with him and after enjoying one more course of betel leaves, he moved his hand up to signal me to get up and  lead him out.  He was as cool as a cucumber;  Many others placed in similar situation would have become panicky .While going home, I apologized for the delay in reaching the station and asked him how he could keep his cool after landing in an unfamiliar place, for the first time.

“ You  would  definitely  come, I know’’ he replied.

Many of our village folks had that certainty on their hope. “Guruvayoorppan  will save him” An old man remarked  sitting near the bed of his close relative, who was at the exit gate of his journey. “ He is struggling for his breath;  doctors are preparing to write his death certificate . How will he survive?” I wondered. Believe me, the patient did survive. It could be an isolated incident. It may not happen every time and I have no explanation to offer how it happened in that case.But I believe that when devastated by the fury of  floods, famine or epidemics  and  no visible solace available,  it was their belief and unflinching trust in an invisible agency that helped my forefathers to live through.

Ambi left his village unannounced long ago, leaving his father, a widower with none to look after him, alone. No one knew about his  whereabouts and therefore , when his father passed away, with none to mourn his death, the villagers  carried  the body to the  cremation ground, on the  river shore . ‘‘Ambi will definitely come. He is the only son and very much attached to his father”  remarked neighbor  Vembu Ayyan  who was in the procession. “Have  you gone out of your senses? He disappeared long ago and who knows whether he is dead or alive?” Others chided him. But, Lo and behold!  Ambi  did come to lit his father’s  pyre!  Driven by what we call ‘sixth sense’, he returned to his village to meet his aged  father and apologize  for his misbehavior. While crossing the river to home, he enquired  someone he met , whose body were the villagers carrying to the burning ghat. That person, incidentally, recognized Ambi.  “Ninte atchanteyada, madaya. Poi koluthu- go and perform the last rites- it is your father’s body.’’  He replied Of course, the prodigal son couldn’t apologize; but he could perform a bigger task .

There is no scientific explanation for these happenings. But you know,  as Osho says “science is not the be-all and end-all of life”  .

Let me come back to our Kailasa  vaadyar. I used to recall that completely composed posture and confident face of Vaadyar on the Secunderabd station platform,  when many of my professionally qualified friends, experts in their fields, miserably failed, while facing crisis in their life.  People like vaadyar  and  my father, with no formal education or  management training, had a unique way of facing challenges of life.. Once they arrive at a premises where a wedding or last rites are to be performed or a field where there is a lot of commotion or devastation, they instantly occupy the central stage, lead the people and handle the opposition cleverly and solve the problem amicably. How did they acquire this skill? Probably, from the tough path they had to walk through and from the rough weather they had to face. Children brought up under hardship, in many cases, are better equipped to face the life, when compared to those born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

Kailasa vadhayar’s father Krishna vadhayar was a lover of Kathakali, like my father. He used to come all the way from Perinkulam to Olavakkode, by walk, to watch the dance drama at Kallaikkulangara , during the Sivarathry festival. I remember him as an old man of sixty, perhaps seventy, full of energy and enthusiasm of a teenager and it was a pleasure to watch his face and body movements when he watches kathakali or talks on an interesting subject. Along with my father he used to sit at the front row, very close to the big ceremonial brass lamp-kuthuvillakku and enjoy  every action and each musical note. He used to bring with him, a bundle of new clothes, kasavumundu- dothies with bright  borders to be gifted to the best performers.  Guru Kunju kurup , Vazenghada Kunju Nair, Venkitchen baghavather  and other masters used to receive the gifts from Vaadyar and take his blessings.

Ramu vaadyar was another learned  purohit in our village. I used to watch with respect  the beauty of his performing pooja at our Siva temple. There were a few more learned pundits engaged in full time religious activities, like Thirvilwamalai vaadyar  but I had no acquaintance  with them.

Kalpathy Chuppammani vaadyar was another memorable purohit. He was our family vaadyar.  With no mechanical device to pollute his metallic voice, loudly and clearly, he used to recite the annul Mahasankalpa mantram , facing the hundreds of villagers assembled on the flight of steps descending from the temple backyard .The overflowing river below and the majestic multi-branched tree above, appeared to  repeat the mantras reverently  along with others. Like the car festival, it was another unforgettable sight. The rhythmic  recitation of vaadyar still reverberates in my ears.

The purohits, in those days, had no cell phones to ring and disturb them while performing poojas and homams. The bridegroom had no reason to worry that vaadyar’s  “mangalyam thanthuna—”  could stop in between and he had to hold on to  tie the sacred yellow thread around the bride’s neck till the conversation was over. They had no golden bracelets, rings or chain to announce their riches and their assets was limited to the knowledge they acquired from their teachers. They had no wrist watch to alert them about the next engagement and rush through the one already on hand. They didn’t even have a shirt to cover their body or a pair of sandals, to protect their soles. Their worldly possession was limited to a few pairs of  dothies , an umbrella and a fan made of palm leaf, all received along with ‘dakshinas’.  Though their remuneration mostly was  part of a rupee along with some rice,  coconuts, banana and betel leaves, they lived a rich life and received the respect of the society. They were simple and straight forward, sincere and  devoted  They kept their high and walked; they slept well.

As a child, I used to visit my village along with my father, though occasionally. I used to enjoy the bus journey, fresh wind from the paddy fields on both sides gushing through your face, and the subsequent walk through the narrow road in between the paddy fields. The village with two rows of identical houses with a big pond at the entrance itself, was an attraction.

One middle aged lady, wife of a vaadyar used to like me immensely probably because she had no male child . She was always found cheerful and pleasant looking but on a particular day she looked dull, when I went to meet her during my college vacation.

‘You could smile more” I pleaded, hoping to bring back the usual brightness on her face.

She brought from the kitchen  a bamboo basket used for storing rice  and placed it before me. There were hardly any grains in that.

“Come on! Let us smile together” she patted my back flashing a smile and breaking into laughter. I looked at her face. Her eyes were shining. The old smile had returned on her lips. That was what I longed for.

But, I could not smile. I WEPT.