Category: A12.01 About me, my family & friends

‘One more vadi ( stick) has fallen,’ commented Chakku( C.M. Jacob) when we were discussing about Chandu( M.C. Chandrasekaran’s passing away, this morning. He didn’t forget to add, ‘only two more sticks are left, you and me!’
Last night, I had called Chakku, to greet him and enquired about Chandu.
‘He is fine, but for a minor memory problem,’ he said.
That was exactly the morning time in India, when our former roommate and colleague quit the world.
Chandu was one of our co-boarders in ‘Panchavadi’, our bachelors’ palace in Seethafalmandy, which we shared for almost a decade. He joined the Institute at Coonoor and we were friends from October 1959.
Ideally, one should be lucky in life as well as in death. Chandu was both and that is why me and Chakku are envy of him. He was lucky to get a wonderful wife in Padmini, to have had two brilliant, affectionate, caring children, a hassle free carrier and above all, an amazingly sudden, peaceful death.
He did a favor, while dying, to his mother in law. Waited for a day or two to quit, after her departure.
Well done Chandu. Repeat the performance in whichever world you are. Wonder, however, wether you will be able to find a girl like Padmini there.
———–
It  is not that I’m not sad in the passing away of my bachelor friend Chandu, whom I knew closely for the past several years. I’m, indeed. But, what brings me satisfaction is that he could drop his body with as ease as a tree branch would drop a ripe fruit or leaf. I have been seeing people begging for death, a plea endorsed by their kin, who have been watching the struggle of the sick relative for months and even years. I have seen people, at advance age, compelled to do the last rites of their much, much youngsters, a trauma, which myself underwent not long ago.
Chandu, spent the previous night, chatting and laughing with his friends and the next morning he was alive, when his wife went to the kitchen for making tea, at around 6.00 am. Hearing a loud sound from the bedroom, at 6.15am, she rushed in, to find him lying on the floor, lifeless.
His living too was very smooth. Unlike some of our colleagues, his letterhead didn’t have the decoration of a chain of educational degrees. He was not a suit- boot senior executive or a thick glass wearing scientist. He could have improved his qualification and job prospects, but he didn’t bother about it. He didn’t have a fat salary too, but his daughter and son have all those.
He was tension free throughout.
I won’t say that Chandu was not ambitious. He was once, when he grabbed a lovely girl, younger to him by 16 years, who served him with utmost love and sincerity, till his last breath. That was a golden catch.
He never suffered the pangs of poverty. His earning was enough to run the family and educate the children well.
Later he could share the luxury of wealth of his children too.
He was the typical example of
‘Anaayaasena Maranam,
Vina deinyena jeevanam’ Prayer.
He achieved it, though I have never seen him praying at home or entering a temple!
‘Aditchuvada prize,’ we, his roommates, greeted him seeing him along with Padmini, for the first time.
Now, hearing his comfortable death, I tell him,’ Aditchuvada prize’
‘You are damn lucky!’- that is a poor translation of the above Malayalam words.

 
 
 
 
 
Thoroughly enjoyed the thanksgiving week end . Two birthday parties, a Thanksgiving party and a surprise Baby shower.
And all because of a narrow escape from a car accident which could have been disastrous, but for the God’s blessings.
A story on that.
We were almost at the destination; the vehicle was slowing down.
‘SP!’ There was a call from the top, I knew who called but didn’t respond.
‘Muni!’ – He called again. Again, I kept silence.
‘Mahamuni!’ That was almost an order to respond.
‘Yes dude.’ I answered casually.
‘Dude! Ha, ha! I’m indeed your dude!’
There was no sarcasm in that response.
‘What else to call you boss, for the tsunami you created in our life this year ? Anyway, I have pushed 2015 to the gate.’
‘You pushed it?’
‘Then who else, you did it, dude?’
After giving the signal to turn right, our car was slowly moving to the car path of the house of our destination, when another car crossed ours in high speed from the right side but we had a narrow escape . The speed with which that vehicle passed through was so high that our car would have been blown high and to pieces, had it hit us. I turned to the back seat where the two kids were still playing and stood speechless for a minute. That usual ‘ente Guruvayoorappa’ distress call too didn’t come out from my lips.
After sometime, regaining my calm I looked up and told my ‘dude’, ‘yes, you pushed the car which intruded when our car was entering the destination so fast to save us from a disaster.
Yes, boss, you pushed 2015 to the gate. You push me, you push the earth and planets to move. You push the Time!
And the ‘Kalaithookki nintru aadum Deivam, my ‘dude’ pushed me to dance in my grand daughter’s birthday party!
 

‘Was she crying for a long time?’, the young mother asked me, when I noticed a baby, hardly a month or two old, weeping in the cradle in the adjacent room. The worry and anxiety that the infant would have cried for a long time, was obvious from her face and voice.
I assured her that it was not so. The baby cried hardly for a minute.
There is none in the world to equal a mother in compassion
‘If she can’t stand the cry of her baby for a few minutes, how will she withstand the pains, problems and worries, her child will be undergoing in the process of growing and afterwards?’ I mused.
Then, I looked up, thanked God for taking away long ago, a mother closely related to me, whose son died recently.
I should never mourn death, I decided, even my own !
Sent from my iPad

 
Chellammal athai was my wife’s aunt. I met her in our wedding and instantly became her admirer, attracted by her personal charm, graceful behavior and unreserved affection showered on me. She was 60 or even 70 but when you see such people, their age never comes to your mind. Still, I couldn’t but wonder how charming she would have been in her teens. But alas, she had become a widow, before the age of menstruation!
Athai, along with my mother -in -law managed the household of her brother, PMS, and his big family of twelve children including my wife and her two siblings, almost equal no of elders and also cattle and servants. Combined families were the norm of those days and invariably there was an athai or patti or Periammai( father’s or mother ‘s sister or grandmother ) in almost every family, whose entire life was spent supporting the family, as was in our case, where we had our mother’s elder sister.
chellammal athai ‘s father Chami pattar of Monkombu was my wife’s grandfather and also my mother’s maternal uncle. He was one of the three popular VadhyAr brothers in Moncombu.
A simple hearted man, pious and helpful, Chami pattar was angry, outspoken and at times used to shout at everyone in the family including his eldest daughter, who took over the role of care taker after his wife passed away. Even while bedridden in his old age, he used to spurt like a handful of red chillies thrown into the tongues of leaping flames from a firewood oven, for any minor delay or deviation for his routines. Chellammal athai bore the brunt of her father ‘s anger, always smiling, despite her workload in the household.
My mother had mentioned about her maternal uncle’s anger earlier but it was from my wife, I had a complete picture of his eccentric behavior.
“Why was he howling at everyone including his own daughter,? I asked my wife.
This was what she said :
“Thatha’s howling and bowling harsh words were actually aimed at God!”
That single- sentence reply sent a shock wave through my nerves initially and then, pained my heart and filled it with sympathy for him.
What an unlucky father was he, to grow old and die, seeing his charming, favorite daughter, moving in the attire of a widow right before his eyes, for over fifty or sixty years! He would have dreamt, during her childhood that she would bloom into motherhood, then slowly ripe as a grandmother, heading an empire of her own.
The young girl managed to translate her sufferings to service, smiling all the time, irrespective of the hot steam bubbling and burning from inside. But her father, suppressed by untainted affection for his unfortunate daughter found no ways, other than cursing the creator for the disaster in her life.
In a Malayalam movie, Nirmalyam, the oracle, unable to bear the stress of shame and sufferings, spits at the face of the idol he worshiped in a temple, with contempt, before he takes away his own life. The movie was a hit, but I disliked the end where the oracle spat at the face of the Idol with his blood. But at whom else would he show his anger? In one of my stories too, the leading character, lying helpless on his death bed, raises his head and hands to punch the Imaginary God, he thought, appeared before him. Compared to these insults to the creator Chami pattar’s verbal attacks on his family was ignorable.
But, one thing is sure. Women out -stand men, In disaster management and adapting the environmental changes. They are born with the inbuilt insulation materials to control the steam of their woes preventing it from burning them and also converting it into cool jets to comfort others.
A friend- request received yesterday, from the youngest niece of Chellammal Athai, kindled my memory on the veterans of my wife’s parental home and made me to share some thoughts on their life, with you.

There was a vegetable supplier for Appa’s restaurant. Her name was Meenachi from Pollachi. She used to dumb big baskets – full of vegetables every alternate day, without bothering to bargain the price or even collect the cash. Whenever my father pays money she used to accept it gladly.
What was more important for that dark skinned, white haired and white sari clad women with no blouse to cover her chest was, Appa’s special Guntur tobacco, which was spicy. ‘Sami pokalae koncham thalai suthum’, mildly intoxicating is Sami( my father)’s tobacco’ she used to say.
I remembered her, when I saw this appliance on the kitchen table of my niece in New Jersey. Meenachi used to pound tobacco leaves in a similar appliance, but of brass metal, fully extending her legs, seated on the floor and singing some folk songs.
She volunteered to do any work any time, whole heartedly. We had several such characters around Appa; all good men and women, doing business but not business minded. They were like our extended family.
One Pappad maker, we called him pappadakAran Chitambaran, whose dying wish was to see Appa, before dying. My father,
immediately went to his hut and spoke a few words of consolation. Chidambaram closed eyes fully satisfied.