Shivam Diaries

Blog

  • My NIN

    Visit to NIN, is like visiting a place of worship for me.  The long gap of a quarter of a century appears to be as little as a week-end that I was away from there. It was in its premises, in the B21 quarters that my wife entered  as a newly wedded girl, my first two children  were born and started going to schools. My father’s body was carried to the funeral ground through the same exit gate I’m facing in the picture.  Attending work was never a bore for me. In fact, I looked forward for that everyday. Holidays were plenty. Home was at a walking distance. Used to go for lunch and take a mini nap too! Plenty of friends and guests used to visit our home and during week ends, senior scientists used to gather in my house for playing cards. At times, the session started at Friday night used to end only on Monday morning. My wife never grumbled to feed my colleagues. 

    My whole family is indebted to NIN and we are still reaping the benefits. 

  • No worries about tomorrow, no regrets about yesterday

    While alone at my Habsiguda house, looking at the blank  high ceiling, I think about my active days and nights spent with the youngsters and  grand children of the family in USA.  

    -not always, at times.

    While in USA, I think about my Hyderabad house, whether someone has plucked the flowers or picked the coconut seeds or mangoes fallen from my trees or has the tenants left the water pipe opened or has a peruchazhi or bandicoot entered into the drain channel blocking it? Etc, etc. 

    Worthless thoughts , but that is the nature of human mind!

    ‘Is it not the ge for you to withdraw from the world?’, asked a friend.

    Withdraw from the world and go where.?

    My family is my world! My house, my well, my trees and the three gates are my world!

    ‘I will give you a tulsimala. Sit in a corner  and meditatae’, suggested another friend.

    I will give you a dozen malas , tulsi, rudraksham, spadikam.

    I don’t need any rosary for meditation.  Meditation for me is getting up from the bed at odd hours and reciting :

    “anor aniyan mahato mahiyan

    atmasya jantor nihito guhayam

    tam akratuh pasyati vita-soko

    dhatuh prasadan mahimanam atmanah”

    and forgetting myself.

    Meditation for me, is singing aloud, without bothering whether I’m at home or in a bus stand 

    ‘Shivudano, Maadhavudano, KamalA

    Bhavudano, Parabhramano nin-

    Evarani ———‘

    I enjoy my own company when I’m alone, though thoughts about my people and property intrude and try to disturb. 

    That is OK. I’m not a Jnani or a Rishi. I’m a simple man,

    with no worries about tomorrow and no regrets about yesterday. 

  • Pleasing mother in law

    ‘Mama, my mother in law, of late, hates me. She often quarrels and calls me Orangutan’

    ‘What sweet food, she likes most?’

    ‘Paruppu pradaman’

    ‘Feed her that’

    ‘Oh, no. She is a diabetic’

    ‘How old is she ?’

    ‘93’

    ‘Simply feed her with plenty of payasam’

    —————-

    ‘Mama, your trick worked. My mamiyar has turned very friendly’ 

    ‘She still calls you orangutan?’

    ‘No, mama’

    ‘What does she call you now ?’

    ‘Paruppu pradaman’

    ‘You’re happy ?’

    ‘Very happy’

    ‘But, Mama, worried about —‘

    ‘Worried about what?’

    ‘Her constipation’

    ‘Give her kadukkai kazhayam’

    ‘Never mama. She will call me kadukkai kazhayam ‘

  • Ammalu is always right

    ‘

    ‘Abandoned by sleep, I sat under a mango tree last night, when I had a sort of enlightenment like Lord Buddha had, Ammmalu’

    ‘Did Lord Budha sit under a mango tree?’

    ‘’That is immaterial. What was important is the question awakened in my mind- why shouldn’t we live like husband and wife?’

    ‘Are we now living like brother and sister ?’

    ‘Not that. Why don’t we live like a real husband and wife?’

    ‘Are we now living like a bogus husband and wife?’

    ‘Oh, my God! How will I make you understand!’

    ‘Don’t worry. I understood. No more chance of that ‘very real’ for us anymore. We’re too old now’

    ‘Ignoring my inner awakening, Ammalu?’

    ‘Not at all. Advising you not to go out at night and sit under any tree’ 

    —————————————-

    Ammalu, are you jealous when your friends move closely with me and share my intelligence?’

    ‘I don’t know how close they move as they are all  bulky! Anyway, it is OK as they’re only sharing and not taking away your intelligence. I need it to settle our monthly dhobi and milkman’s bills’

    ——————————-

    ‘You’re in deep meditation. Are you dreaming about my stone-strong  body or moon-shine face, Ammalu? 

    ‘I’m thinking how to send you to the shop in this hot Sun, to get some curry leaves as our tree has gone dry’

  • Thorthumundu

    Thorthumudu, close to chest companion!

    Thorthumundu is a Palakkadan sadhu, innocent like me. In the olden days it was closer to the body than one’s wife- that was what I heard from elders (telling lies was a sin for them!) Almost everywhere, Palakkadans used to enter just with a ‘thundu’ on their shoulder, even to cinema ‘kottais’, (theaters) or railway stations. It was a status symbol! 

    Thorthumundus are available in 2/3 lengths and with borders in 2/3 colors, though black border is the choice of many.

    While starting long distance walks or getting ready for important activities, my father used to tie it around his head and look majestic! I remember my yAtra as a child on his turbaned- head, crossing the Kalpathy river, to watch the car festival.

    Malayalee women too used thorthumundu to cover their chest, when they were wearing only mundu and not sari. 

    Thanks to my good hearted daughters in law, I have plenty of clothes, different type, suited to different climates and different occasions. However, while in India, my constant companion, close to my heart, is thorthumundu, during summer. When temperature shoots up,  I dip it in water, squeeze and then cover my chest. Oh, paramasukham

  • Osthanu, Sir!

     

    Waited behind the partially opened front door, in the early morning, to catch red handed, the culprit who steals my  flowers.  5, 10, 20 minutes passed- a hand extended towards the plant. Wanted to return to bed, if it was bangles-adorned. (Flowers are after all for whom? For God and women!) .But it wasn’t. 

    Only old women are nowadays, wearing bangles and I have a sympathetic heart towards all old women, as they won’t be able to return to their young days.  Old men, all old men, will have a mental vibration unique for youngsters when they see any woman other than their life partner and during that golden moment they consider they are young.  

    Coming back to the hand moving towards the plant, I screamed, ‘poda patti’.  My pure native tongue, sudda Malayalam, escapes from my mouth only for abusing others.

    -get out, you bitch! Suddamaya artham- pure meaning. 

    ‘Attila entae eami Sir? What does it mean?’ 

    Enquired the owner of the hand still active removing flowers. 

    Oh, I made a mistake- the encroacher is a Telugu, not a Malayali! 

    ‘Get out, you dog’. That was the meaning, I wanted to tell him; instead  said, ‘Nee thalakkaya’ – your head! That is a common abuse in mana desam, Telugu Desam.

    ‘Anthena? That is all?’  He was happy that my abuse was mild, went out without bothering to close the gate, with a basketful of beautiful white flowers, which were to adorn my Shiva Lingam, Saligramams  and other statues of daily worship! I came out of my hide, wide opening my door, went down the steps and closed the main gate.  Now, no one can enter. 

    The unfamiliar face turned towards me before turning the street corner and took my leave, ‘osthanu, Sir- will meet you again Sir- shall come again!

    He will come again, I know but he had the courtesy to say that. Nice guy!

  • Dosa chattuvam or dosa ladle

    “Thunder showers soak Hyderabad  city” – news paper report this morning. 

    We, in Habsiguda Central Park area had only thunder and lightning, but no showers but I  enjoyed the thunder sound, lightning flashes and strong wind waves. I Was in fact excited, when the night sky’s mood  suddenly changed sending down cool wind, giving unexpected relief from the hot waves. 

    The power supply went off.  I lighted a candle, pulled out a chair, sat outside to enjoy the bliss. 

    ‘Anna, idi idikkarthu, ullae vaa!’, warned my brother Vicha. He wanted me to get inside fearing that I might get stuck by lightning. I didn’t move an inch. I was enjoying the changed mood of the sky.

    ‘How nice it would be if I could die now! All my responsibilities are over’. I thought, ‘of course, Vicha is there; God will take care of him’ . 

    It is no my habit to worry about my death; somehow, I believe it is not applicable to me! But, now the condition was so favorable, attractive, to quit for ever!

    I thought I was thinking but I expressed my desire, rather loudly which reached the unusually sharp ears of the obese woman in the opposite side, who screamed, ‘ullae odipom, pavi Brahmana!  Omma thalaelae idivizunthu ennavathu aana, enakku pochu- rush inside you sinful Brahmin. If struck by lightening, something happens to you, I will be the loser!’

    Instantly, my desire to quit the world vaporized. Here is a lady, may be fat, but still charming, who will miss me, if I quit’

    I got up from the chair and shouted, ‘Paru, you will be the loser! How on earth?’. 

    I longed to hear from her a long lecture or even a poetry from Changanpuzha’s love story, Ramanan or a cinema dialogue or at least the tamil cinema song:

    ‘PokAthae, pokAthae en kanava! ‘ though I’m not her kanavan, husband.

    But crisp was her reply. 

    ‘Dosai chattuvam!’

    Her dosa ladle is with me! I had borrowed it and forgot to return!

    For women, their  kitchen vessels are more important than anything else including the sacred life of a sadhu in the opposite house! 

     

  • Ammalu is always right

    Ammalu, Poor old woman, the talk of the town today ‘’was my  Vishukkaineettam and not your Vishukkani ‘

    ‘True. My friends were wondering how you managed to collect so many ‘chakrams’, the minimum valued and outdated coins of Thiruvananthapuram Maharaja’ s days’. 

    ———————-

    ‘Ammalu, between a husband and his wife, there can be hundred reasons to quarrel. So, what I want to tell you is—‘

    ‘No, there is just one reason – whether they are prepared to accommodate each other’s views and if not adjust and live together.  There is nothing more to talk on this issue’

  • Filling the  Vishukkani coconut halves with rice and tuwardal, was a ‘thekkan sampradayam’ practice in the southern part of Kerala introduced by my wife. She used to keep a small stick of turmeric too, which I didn’t do for the simple reason that there is not a single one at home at present. There was a time when they were available in plenty as it was a part of thamboolam given to married women when they used to visit us. Nowadays, no married or unmarried women visit us, except my Meenasister who brings some food items often. Another sister is not in Hyderabad and I’m waiting with my Vishukaineetam for her, when  she is expected back from USA soon. 

    Last year, there were a few turmeric plants in my tulsimadam, and the green little ones were helpful to me for my Sankranthi offer of Pongal to Sun God, which I used to perform in the open area, before my house. Now, in their place an alamaram, peepul tree is coming up. At the foot of the abode for tulsi, a kariapaakku or curry leaves plant is coming up. Both have chosen wrong places or without their knowledge and permission, they were destined to be born there. It happens in the case of humans too. Some are born in the wombs not meant for them, but they get adjusted while growing. I had a brilliant colleague, a Scientist, who told me that his dad was a drunkard and when he was a kid, threw him into a ditch, while not in his senses. The boy survived the calamity, grew to gain a doctorate in Science.  The soil of birth is an important part in the growth but in some cases trees do grow well and reach the sky, due to other factors. 

    I’m not comfortable to disturb the plants who have taken refuge in my tulsimadam, but what is the alternative ? 

    Nowadays, boys and girls, who dislike their connecting link, break the link easily and seek other links. No problem .

    The world is full of thamasha for others but not so for those involved. Some silently suffer; some seek refuge in the Facebook or mobile phones😝

    Hara,Haro, Hara! Some go to Pazhani or Tirupati and get their head shaved off. One of my friends, a graduate in engineering, who hasn’t got a job despite trying for the past 6 months was seen his head shaved off yesterday.

    ‘Manjipani chesiyavu’, I told him. U did a good job

    ‘How did you know that I went to Tirupathi?’

    He enquired.

    I’m not surprised that he didn’t find a job! An young Telugu man standing before me, one fine morning, with completely shaven head asking me, ‘how I knew that he had been to Tirupati😭?

    I’m sure Govinda will get him a good job.

  • A big man with a big heart

    Big has its own charm! 

    Remember a man of abnormally big size, who used to visit us often, when we were children. His name was Madhavan Panicker but his size earned him the nickname of ‘mathan’ Panicker. Mathan is pumpkin in Malayalam! Though he was discarded merciless by his wife and children, we found him extremely happy.  He used to tell us stories and one of his stories, I’m mentioning here.

    ‘There was a big king with a big heart and big frame. Wearing his big golden crown, he sat on his big simhasanam, which broke into pieces and the king fell down. Everyone laughed and as he was unable to get up on his own, his crown and jewels and even his golden costume were taken away by his family, before he was made to stand up. He stood up raising his crown-less head high, collected a lungi and walked out of his home, smiling. When he reached the outer gate, his wife invited him to come back. ‘Varoo, Chetta! Come back’

    He laughed, removed the only possession he had on his body, a tulasimala, with golden link, threw it at his wife, saying, ‘molea, pidicho’ means, here it is, my dear’

    As children, we laughed hearing his story. Now, when I turn back, my eyes become moist. 

    Mathan panicker lived long and I was told , died peacefully. Some one known to him buried his body, uttering ‘Shiva, Shiva’.