In our days we did not have as much worldly knowledge as the modern day kids have. I think every present day kid of eight years is exposed to much ‘sex’ than what an adolescent was exposed in our days, thanks to the media. In a way it is good to know proper things in a proper way.
I still remember how not only I but all guys of my age in those days never had any chance to know about ‘the secrets of sex’. There was no chance to see or to read or to hear anything about sex. It was all hush-hush thing among close friends. So it was mostly like the characters in the story of an elephant and four blind men. One blind leading another blind led only to more confusion. Especially puberty of girls was a great enigma for us. Talking about that brought goose pimples and we were thrilled to share our information with others. I got most of the gossip about sex from my rural friends, especially during my summer visits to my native village. Each one had his own theory about sex, puberty, menstruation, masturbation etc. We were totally a confused lot. This confusion made sex more and more a mystery and we had no chance to know about it. This made sex more enigmatic and mysterious and we always talked about these matters only with our very close friends. So naturally since we had our references from fellows of our own age, it was mostly like one blind leading another blind from one dark spot to another dark spot! We were very stupid. Hot discussion on the nature of genitals of the opposite sex happened often. There were times when we were not sure how a baby would come into this world. To make matters worse comparing a cow and a woman especially in the matter of their anatomy and mode of delivery was common. This state of affairs even continued to very late period of our adolescence. Such was our ignorance in those days!
I had a cousin. His father and my father were first cousins, and they had the very same name and worked in the same school. To avoid confusion people used to call my periyappa as senior so-and-so (periya ..) and my appa was known as junior so-and-so (chinna ..). Like our fathers we also had the same first name. He was just two years senior to me. But he played the role my ‘friend-philosopher-guide’. He was the one who was unraveling the mysteries of sex to me. His house was on my way to school and church, the two places around which my early life was revolving. So I used to go to his house on my way to school or church and then we would go together. He came out with so many newer things about anything and everything. I very submissively accepted all his ‘doctrines’. Never questioned them. Except the one time when he was explaining the ‘dirtiest thing’.
Whenever he came out with anything he used to always show an air of superiority which was quite right since I was too wet behind my ears for my age and what all he said were ‘scriptures’ to me. I never dared to question his statements. But one day on our way back from school he started giving me extraordinary information on sex. He told me with the same and usual air of superiority what a married man and wife would do in private to get a child. My God! It sounded so obscene and dirty that I thought there could not be an iota of truth in what he said. I said I did not believe what he said just then. He majestically told me that was the truth and nothing but truth. I kept silent for some time mulling over on what he said. I was simply flabbergasted by this unbelievable and dirty thing. For a few moments we were walking in silence.
Then I asked my cousin: “Then … er.. how about my father and mother?”
“Well, it has to be so”, he shot the answer without a moment of hesitation. He was very cool answering my question.
Few more moments of silence. I was still trying to digest what he had said. But I could not. A flash came and I asked him: “In that case, how about your father and mother?”
This time he took some moments. Hesitated a bit. But came out with an affirmative answer. But this time it was not as authoritative as it was for the previous question.
Still I could not believe it. Our own parents. This much dirty. Oh! No, I thought. I did not believe it and wanted to prove him utterly wrong.
My next question was very much pointed and poignant too. I asked him: “If it is so, is it the same way between Mother Mary and St. Joseph?”
He was thrown off balance by this question. Clean bowled. He was dumbfounded now. I was happy that I could at last nail him down to his utter lies. How could such a dirty act be true? Could any decent human being, leave alone the divine persons, do such nasty things?
I was waiting with batted breath for his answer. This time he did not have the guts to say yes.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
52. DUAL WITH RAJA - 16
DUAL WITH RAJA
In our school the 'A' section of all the classes was meant for the 'creamy' layer, or for the so-called brighter students. I don’t know whether other schools also followed this. I was admitted in I Standard in A section. That would have been of course by virtue of my appa's influence. I think that streak continued till I finished my VI form in the high school. For those of this generation, in our days the schooling years were only 11 years - five in elementary and 6 in high school. In the former each level was called ‘Standard’ and the high school levels were called 'Forms'. So the school finishing class would be VI Form.
My V Standard teacher was Mr. Lucas, a very tall, lanky man with a smiling face. But his knuckles were very strong and every one of us dreaded his knuckles. He either used his knuckles or a thin striking – rod, a bamboo cane. His theory was thinner the cane pain it creates is greater. I got reprimanded only once with two strikes of that cane for a peculiar / funny situation. (I don’t think that incident can be narrated in a foreign language, since it is related to my mother tongue, Tamil. I have elaborated this incident in my Tamil blog. Now ...it is the 'dual' I had with one of my classmates. It was more like the two eternal cowboys with their guns drawn taking steps before they try to outshoot the other in their mortal combat!
Whenever Mr. Lucas wanted some lessons to be read to the whole class he always asked me to read the lessons. That was a sort of privilege I enjoyed for long. I don’t know whether I read it properly or was due to my appa's influence. None had any grudge for this, at least that was what we all thought till it was challenged one day. Raja was one of my classmates, considerably a bigger boy in our class. One day when our teacher asked me to read a lesson and when I was about to start Raja stood up and to all our shock and astonishment asked face to face our teacher why always it should be me. I think Mr.Lucas was taken aback and he was speechless for some time. Then he said that he did so since he thought I was good in that. But Raja did not lose his rebellious mood. He challenged that he could read better than me given a chance.
Mr. Lucas was speechless for some time. Then he said that he would set a 'dual' between me and him and gave the details of the modus operandi of how it should go. He suggested that both of us would stand on both the sides of his chair. Simultaneously he would pat our backs. For the first pat I would start reading from a lesson. Then after few sentences - another pat. Now I would stop and Raja would start from where I left. And it should go on like that. To make it more democratic my teacher said that there would be four 'judges'. They will be seated in the front bench with a score sheet. They would count mistakes, stammering etc. during our reading for each of us. Whoever had lesser score would be considered victorious.
Raja came out with another challenge. He wanted a bet for this dual. It was fixed that the bet money would be one anna . (That is 1/16 of a rupee then.) That was real "big" money in those days for a guy in elementary school. I who was so far listening as a silent observer more as an outsider came to the world of reality only then. I said I did not have the required money for the bet. There were immediate sponsors for me. I remember the names of them: Kathiresan and Vetrivel. They paid the money to our teacher. Raja paid his bet.
I remember how the whole class was in an expectant mood. I could clearly visualise even now what had happened more than a half century back. Our class alone had the luxury of being in a separate room, next to our Headmaster's Office while all other sections of V Class were in a common hall. Benches with back rest for all was a specialty for our class. The excuse given to other classes for this special treatment was that if and when school inspectors from the education department gave surprise visits, they could easily watch our V Class - A Section and so this special privilege for our class.
The dual started.
After certain time Mr. Lucas stopped the dual. The judges were asked to make a total of the minus points they had given us for our shortcomings during the 'dual'. I won the dual - that too, with a very 'handsome' margin. Raja immediately came to my side of our teacher's table and shook my hands. I did not know all those etiquettes. Our teacher gave one anna to me, the prize money and my sponsors got their money back.
In retrospect, what look great to me now are the rebellious spirit of Raja and the very fair mind of my teacher. I used to always wonder how could a boy aged just ten or eleven doing his fifth standard could be that much rebellious and dare to question the authority of the teacher. The second thing was the way our teacher settled the issue and also his conscience. How could he take a question on his authority with such magnanimity? He was so fair that he made some of our own class mates as judges. Both Raja and Mr. Lucas should have been great souls and I realized and experienced that at least with regard to Raja since he and I had maintained a life-long relationship. Till his death two years back, we occasionally met. If there were other friends during our meetings, Raja with all gusto would start narrating the whole episode. He never became tired of this since it looked as if he was waiting for a chance to narrate our old story to new friends. It was only he who remembered the names of my sponsors and told me after many years.
In our school the 'A' section of all the classes was meant for the 'creamy' layer, or for the so-called brighter students. I don’t know whether other schools also followed this. I was admitted in I Standard in A section. That would have been of course by virtue of my appa's influence. I think that streak continued till I finished my VI form in the high school. For those of this generation, in our days the schooling years were only 11 years - five in elementary and 6 in high school. In the former each level was called ‘Standard’ and the high school levels were called 'Forms'. So the school finishing class would be VI Form.
My V Standard teacher was Mr. Lucas, a very tall, lanky man with a smiling face. But his knuckles were very strong and every one of us dreaded his knuckles. He either used his knuckles or a thin striking – rod, a bamboo cane. His theory was thinner the cane pain it creates is greater. I got reprimanded only once with two strikes of that cane for a peculiar / funny situation. (I don’t think that incident can be narrated in a foreign language, since it is related to my mother tongue, Tamil. I have elaborated this incident in my Tamil blog. Now ...it is the 'dual' I had with one of my classmates. It was more like the two eternal cowboys with their guns drawn taking steps before they try to outshoot the other in their mortal combat!
Whenever Mr. Lucas wanted some lessons to be read to the whole class he always asked me to read the lessons. That was a sort of privilege I enjoyed for long. I don’t know whether I read it properly or was due to my appa's influence. None had any grudge for this, at least that was what we all thought till it was challenged one day. Raja was one of my classmates, considerably a bigger boy in our class. One day when our teacher asked me to read a lesson and when I was about to start Raja stood up and to all our shock and astonishment asked face to face our teacher why always it should be me. I think Mr.Lucas was taken aback and he was speechless for some time. Then he said that he did so since he thought I was good in that. But Raja did not lose his rebellious mood. He challenged that he could read better than me given a chance.
Mr. Lucas was speechless for some time. Then he said that he would set a 'dual' between me and him and gave the details of the modus operandi of how it should go. He suggested that both of us would stand on both the sides of his chair. Simultaneously he would pat our backs. For the first pat I would start reading from a lesson. Then after few sentences - another pat. Now I would stop and Raja would start from where I left. And it should go on like that. To make it more democratic my teacher said that there would be four 'judges'. They will be seated in the front bench with a score sheet. They would count mistakes, stammering etc. during our reading for each of us. Whoever had lesser score would be considered victorious.
Raja came out with another challenge. He wanted a bet for this dual. It was fixed that the bet money would be one anna . (That is 1/16 of a rupee then.) That was real "big" money in those days for a guy in elementary school. I who was so far listening as a silent observer more as an outsider came to the world of reality only then. I said I did not have the required money for the bet. There were immediate sponsors for me. I remember the names of them: Kathiresan and Vetrivel. They paid the money to our teacher. Raja paid his bet.
I remember how the whole class was in an expectant mood. I could clearly visualise even now what had happened more than a half century back. Our class alone had the luxury of being in a separate room, next to our Headmaster's Office while all other sections of V Class were in a common hall. Benches with back rest for all was a specialty for our class. The excuse given to other classes for this special treatment was that if and when school inspectors from the education department gave surprise visits, they could easily watch our V Class - A Section and so this special privilege for our class.
The dual started.
After certain time Mr. Lucas stopped the dual. The judges were asked to make a total of the minus points they had given us for our shortcomings during the 'dual'. I won the dual - that too, with a very 'handsome' margin. Raja immediately came to my side of our teacher's table and shook my hands. I did not know all those etiquettes. Our teacher gave one anna to me, the prize money and my sponsors got their money back.
In retrospect, what look great to me now are the rebellious spirit of Raja and the very fair mind of my teacher. I used to always wonder how could a boy aged just ten or eleven doing his fifth standard could be that much rebellious and dare to question the authority of the teacher. The second thing was the way our teacher settled the issue and also his conscience. How could he take a question on his authority with such magnanimity? He was so fair that he made some of our own class mates as judges. Both Raja and Mr. Lucas should have been great souls and I realized and experienced that at least with regard to Raja since he and I had maintained a life-long relationship. Till his death two years back, we occasionally met. If there were other friends during our meetings, Raja with all gusto would start narrating the whole episode. He never became tired of this since it looked as if he was waiting for a chance to narrate our old story to new friends. It was only he who remembered the names of my sponsors and told me after many years.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
51. ELEMENTARY SCHOOL DAYS - 15
ELEMENTARY SCHOOL DAYS
I dont know how some of the very early happenings in our lives remain permanently etched in our minds. I already mentioned that I dont rememeber even a wee bit of things that happened when amma was around. Memories of childhood start only after amma's death. The life in Kasiapuram , and appa's wedding are all quite vivid. Immediately after appa's wedding with my new amma I came to Madurai. Then started the schooling. Appa was working in St. Mary's High School, a renowned school in the whole city in those days. I was admitted in St.Mary's Elementary School in the same campus.
I very clearly remember the very first day of my schooling. Appa took me in his bicycle. In the campus, the elementary school was a rectangular block at the back of the church. But there was a single block standing alone in between the main school buildings and the church. Probably it is as old as the curch itself. It was standing alone there. It was a high raised building with just one large class room and an adjacent small room. I dont know why that building alone was so constructed, so high above the ground level. There should have been at least 10-15 very wide steps leading to the class room. Appa took me by hand and led me into the class room. The teahcer was in all smiles and he showed a lot of respect to appa. Mu first class teacher's name was Mr. Manickam, a fair, young gentleman. He asked me where do I want to sit in the class room? Appa's influence helped me opt a seat of my preference! I chose the bench in the very first row - not that I wanted to be there as a good studious student as a front-bencher! In stead that was the only bench in the class with backrest! All other benches did not have a backrest. Anyway, that front bech with backrest was full. But still one of the poor poor guys in that bench - in all probabilities, whose father was not known to the teacher - was asked to go to one of the back rows and I was offered my preferred seat. That's how my first day of schooling started.
Not much is in memory about the rest of the next 5 years in that school, except two incidents. When I was doing my III standard in Madurai there was a big show of some Indian and foreign muscle men. Names of Tarasingh, who later became a famous cine star, and King Khong are just the names of two Indian muscle men I remember. There were some foreigners with names hard to pronounce. So they had some nick names, names that would attract the local wrestling fans. I remember only one such name, Red Scorpion. He visited our church one day and I remember most of us from our class with our teacher thronged around him as soon as he came out of the church. His visit made us talk about the wrestling matches and the different styles and prowess they had in wrestling. Somebody showed me one of the famous ‘monkey-hold’ of these wrestlers and also the way to wriggle out of it. I had a friend. I vaguely remember that his name was Sivakumar. He used to be shorter than me, though I myself was one of the ‘shorties’ in my classes. I gave a demo as to how to hold that monkey-hold. Poor guy, he did not know the defense for that. So he was totally under my control when I held him so. He was surprised. Then I asked to him to hold me like that. He did. But now I used the trick which was taught to me and overthrew him over my head. Fellow fell flat on the ground and started weeping. I thought the matter was over with that.
But the very next day his mother, a teacher herself, came to our class and met me. She made me feel sad for what I did to her son. I was worried that she may take the matter to my teacher and then to my app a . But she left me with that little reprimand. But Sivakumar who was so far close to me never talked to me after that.
One more incident is also one another unforgettable incident. And since it needs little more importance I plan to save that for the next chapter!
I dont know how some of the very early happenings in our lives remain permanently etched in our minds. I already mentioned that I dont rememeber even a wee bit of things that happened when amma was around. Memories of childhood start only after amma's death. The life in Kasiapuram , and appa's wedding are all quite vivid. Immediately after appa's wedding with my new amma I came to Madurai. Then started the schooling. Appa was working in St. Mary's High School, a renowned school in the whole city in those days. I was admitted in St.Mary's Elementary School in the same campus.
I very clearly remember the very first day of my schooling. Appa took me in his bicycle. In the campus, the elementary school was a rectangular block at the back of the church. But there was a single block standing alone in between the main school buildings and the church. Probably it is as old as the curch itself. It was standing alone there. It was a high raised building with just one large class room and an adjacent small room. I dont know why that building alone was so constructed, so high above the ground level. There should have been at least 10-15 very wide steps leading to the class room. Appa took me by hand and led me into the class room. The teahcer was in all smiles and he showed a lot of respect to appa. Mu first class teacher's name was Mr. Manickam, a fair, young gentleman. He asked me where do I want to sit in the class room? Appa's influence helped me opt a seat of my preference! I chose the bench in the very first row - not that I wanted to be there as a good studious student as a front-bencher! In stead that was the only bench in the class with backrest! All other benches did not have a backrest. Anyway, that front bech with backrest was full. But still one of the poor poor guys in that bench - in all probabilities, whose father was not known to the teacher - was asked to go to one of the back rows and I was offered my preferred seat. That's how my first day of schooling started.
Not much is in memory about the rest of the next 5 years in that school, except two incidents. When I was doing my III standard in Madurai there was a big show of some Indian and foreign muscle men. Names of Tarasingh, who later became a famous cine star, and King Khong are just the names of two Indian muscle men I remember. There were some foreigners with names hard to pronounce. So they had some nick names, names that would attract the local wrestling fans. I remember only one such name, Red Scorpion. He visited our church one day and I remember most of us from our class with our teacher thronged around him as soon as he came out of the church. His visit made us talk about the wrestling matches and the different styles and prowess they had in wrestling. Somebody showed me one of the famous ‘monkey-hold’ of these wrestlers and also the way to wriggle out of it. I had a friend. I vaguely remember that his name was Sivakumar. He used to be shorter than me, though I myself was one of the ‘shorties’ in my classes. I gave a demo as to how to hold that monkey-hold. Poor guy, he did not know the defense for that. So he was totally under my control when I held him so. He was surprised. Then I asked to him to hold me like that. He did. But now I used the trick which was taught to me and overthrew him over my head. Fellow fell flat on the ground and started weeping. I thought the matter was over with that.
But the very next day his mother, a teacher herself, came to our class and met me. She made me feel sad for what I did to her son. I was worried that she may take the matter to my teacher and then to my app a . But she left me with that little reprimand. But Sivakumar who was so far close to me never talked to me after that.
One more incident is also one another unforgettable incident. And since it needs little more importance I plan to save that for the next chapter!
Saturday, October 06, 2007
50. MAKING OF A SMOKER & A FILM BUFF - 14.
MAKING OF A SMOKER & A FILM BUFF
Two great changes happened in my life due to these hours of freedom. One was the old desire rejuvenating and getting deep rooted into a new habit. I mean the old and unflinching desire for smoking. These hours of freedom and the gang that was formed during this time was handy. I started where I left unmindful of the promise I made in my native place years ago. If it was inside a well or a thoppu in those early years that I tried my hand in smoking, this time we had ‘royal connections’. The Thirumalai Naik Palace was very near to our school. In those days it used to be busy since the court was functioning there and people used to throng the whole place. The terrace of the Palace also was free for visitors. Only many years later the courts were moved to a different place and the palace was taken by the archaeology department. Till that time this became a nice hideout for fellows like me to have our first lessons in smoking. The terrace of the Palace was so expansive we had no fear of being caught by anyone known to us or to our parents. As days went by we became more and more 'courageous' that we changed our venue to more and more open places. It was thus I got hooked to cigarette smoking and that continued till 11 p.m. of January 6th, 1990 which started in the early sixties.
The other change that happened also became a habit of lifetime. In those days, I would not be allowed to go for any movies other than the sporadic ones with the family. Now there was ample chance to go for movies without parental knowledge. I still remember the very first movie that I went like that. It was Norman Wisdom’s On The Beat. He was a famous British comedian of those days whom our famous and successful comedian Nagesh could have had as a role model. I mustered courage as well as gathered money for the ticket and one day sneaked out to the film. It was so funny that I burst into laughter when I was having my supper with appa. I was doing my first year B.Sc. then. Appa asked what the matter was. I managed to tell him some cock and bull story. The movie was so good that I became a regular visitor to Regal Theatre, an exclusive theatre for English movies in those days. I became, in short, an English movie buff. The timing of these English movies was also so conducive that one could go to the movies without raising any doubt for the people at home. Unlike the Tamil movies, these English movies would start quite late and would end very soon. So I could start very late from home and reach the theatre in time cycling at the fastest pace and also come back even at 8.30. Tamil movies would end only by 9.30. Only precaution that I had to very carefully do every time was to discard the counterfoil of the ticket without leaving any telltale evidences to my watchful appa. With such preplanning and meticulous operation this habit also grew and became a lifetime passion. Now I realize that of the two changes I acquired due to and during my hours of freedom, at least one habit did some good to me.
Two great changes happened in my life due to these hours of freedom. One was the old desire rejuvenating and getting deep rooted into a new habit. I mean the old and unflinching desire for smoking. These hours of freedom and the gang that was formed during this time was handy. I started where I left unmindful of the promise I made in my native place years ago. If it was inside a well or a thoppu in those early years that I tried my hand in smoking, this time we had ‘royal connections’. The Thirumalai Naik Palace was very near to our school. In those days it used to be busy since the court was functioning there and people used to throng the whole place. The terrace of the Palace also was free for visitors. Only many years later the courts were moved to a different place and the palace was taken by the archaeology department. Till that time this became a nice hideout for fellows like me to have our first lessons in smoking. The terrace of the Palace was so expansive we had no fear of being caught by anyone known to us or to our parents. As days went by we became more and more 'courageous' that we changed our venue to more and more open places. It was thus I got hooked to cigarette smoking and that continued till 11 p.m. of January 6th, 1990 which started in the early sixties.
The other change that happened also became a habit of lifetime. In those days, I would not be allowed to go for any movies other than the sporadic ones with the family. Now there was ample chance to go for movies without parental knowledge. I still remember the very first movie that I went like that. It was Norman Wisdom’s On The Beat. He was a famous British comedian of those days whom our famous and successful comedian Nagesh could have had as a role model. I mustered courage as well as gathered money for the ticket and one day sneaked out to the film. It was so funny that I burst into laughter when I was having my supper with appa. I was doing my first year B.Sc. then. Appa asked what the matter was. I managed to tell him some cock and bull story. The movie was so good that I became a regular visitor to Regal Theatre, an exclusive theatre for English movies in those days. I became, in short, an English movie buff. The timing of these English movies was also so conducive that one could go to the movies without raising any doubt for the people at home. Unlike the Tamil movies, these English movies would start quite late and would end very soon. So I could start very late from home and reach the theatre in time cycling at the fastest pace and also come back even at 8.30. Tamil movies would end only by 9.30. Only precaution that I had to very carefully do every time was to discard the counterfoil of the ticket without leaving any telltale evidences to my watchful appa. With such preplanning and meticulous operation this habit also grew and became a lifetime passion. Now I realize that of the two changes I acquired due to and during my hours of freedom, at least one habit did some good to me.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
49. I SALUTE MADURAI A.C. (TRAFFIC)
It was during one of my rides on our Madurai roads in a late evening, I happened to witness a road accident involving a young couple and their few month old baby. They were just passing me on my right side when their vehicle hit the so-called 'median' on the road, which was hardly above the ground level. The median was also barely visible since there was no bright street light and any bright lights of vehicles coming in the opposite direction could have made the visibility all the more hard. Luckily the mother held her baby close to her and saved from any mishap. The couple had some minor bruises.
I left the place of accident not knowing who is to be blamed for this: the corporation, the police, or whole government machinery for the poor condition of the road and the median at that busy road junction.
When I was crossing the same spot after a day or two I saw some police official standing in that junction. I went and told him of the accident and the reason for it. Surprisingly he showed real concern and asked me what could be an immediate solution. I suggested at least for the time being a "traffic-drum" at the spot to show the road divide. He immediately called a cop and ordered him to get and place a "traffic-drum" within the next hour.
To my surprise on the very next day when I crossed that spot there was a "traffic-drum" and within the next two or three days there was some more modification which made that spot quite safer now. I was so happy that a police officer has shown so much care and concern.
Then, after a fortnight,I felt a new traffic island on the road (near Fatima College) I regularly commute had a problem. I talked about that to the cop (Mr. Kumar) standing there. He promised that he would send the phone number of Asst. Commissioner for traffic through the cop who would be on duty the next day. Next day the duty cop (Mr. Abu Bukker) gave me the number. Both these two cops were also very obliging and understood and accepted what I said.
I rang up the number and experienced joyous surprises one after another. I thought some lower level police man may attend the phone and would give me some evasive answer. But it is not so. It was the A.C. himself ( I came to know the name of the A.C. from Mr. Kumar and Mr. Abu Bukker: Mr. Sivanandan) who took the call. I asked him whether he could spare a few minutes. He readily obliged. I told him the problem. He asked few questions and more explanations. He very politely explained to me the plans they have already charted out for that traffic island and told me very earnestly that he would remember the problem that I talked about and would do the needful.
I am not yet sure whether both these officers are one and the same or not. However, it was a great surprise for me since in both the instances I got a very pleasant and utmost courteous responses and in both the instances I saw immediate action too.
I record my sincere appreciation for the person(s) concerned. It has made me feel so happy and hopeful of a bright future for our nation with such officers. I wish more and more bureaucrats of this sort come and save our country from its present rut.
I left the place of accident not knowing who is to be blamed for this: the corporation, the police, or whole government machinery for the poor condition of the road and the median at that busy road junction.
When I was crossing the same spot after a day or two I saw some police official standing in that junction. I went and told him of the accident and the reason for it. Surprisingly he showed real concern and asked me what could be an immediate solution. I suggested at least for the time being a "traffic-drum" at the spot to show the road divide. He immediately called a cop and ordered him to get and place a "traffic-drum" within the next hour.
To my surprise on the very next day when I crossed that spot there was a "traffic-drum" and within the next two or three days there was some more modification which made that spot quite safer now. I was so happy that a police officer has shown so much care and concern.
Then, after a fortnight,I felt a new traffic island on the road (near Fatima College) I regularly commute had a problem. I talked about that to the cop (Mr. Kumar) standing there. He promised that he would send the phone number of Asst. Commissioner for traffic through the cop who would be on duty the next day. Next day the duty cop (Mr. Abu Bukker) gave me the number. Both these two cops were also very obliging and understood and accepted what I said.
I rang up the number and experienced joyous surprises one after another. I thought some lower level police man may attend the phone and would give me some evasive answer. But it is not so. It was the A.C. himself ( I came to know the name of the A.C. from Mr. Kumar and Mr. Abu Bukker: Mr. Sivanandan) who took the call. I asked him whether he could spare a few minutes. He readily obliged. I told him the problem. He asked few questions and more explanations. He very politely explained to me the plans they have already charted out for that traffic island and told me very earnestly that he would remember the problem that I talked about and would do the needful.
I am not yet sure whether both these officers are one and the same or not. However, it was a great surprise for me since in both the instances I got a very pleasant and utmost courteous responses and in both the instances I saw immediate action too.
I record my sincere appreciation for the person(s) concerned. It has made me feel so happy and hopeful of a bright future for our nation with such officers. I wish more and more bureaucrats of this sort come and save our country from its present rut.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
48. I STUDIED SO HARD(LY) ! - 13
I STUDIED SO HARD(LY)!
Always there was magic between my textbooks and sleep. As soon as I took a textbook in my hands immediately the goddess of sleep would lovingly embrace me. Till I finished my studies I had this disease ! So I took to outdoors for my night study to overcome this problem. Till late evenings, say, up to 9 o’clock in the night our school campus became my study place after I joined college. This campus became part of my life since appa worked there and I had my whole school life there. And not only that, we had the church, the big cathedral and I was a regular church goer in those days. Till I reached my middle forties I preferred to attend services there for festivals like Christmas and Easter. The campus had been an inseparable part of my life and this attachment made me have my first grandson’s baptism there in that church.
The other place, which was my study-spot, was under the streetlights of our road. During nights, especially after 10 o’clock, a group of five or six of us, all from different schools but neighbors used to come together under the streetlights. The favorable spot for all of us was a corner building, which housed the local post office. There were two advantages. It had a brighter mercury light since it was a sort of road junction and the other one was a overhead shed which could protect us on cold wintry or rainy days. Studying under the streetlights had its own advantage. Since we were always in groups one cannot so easily sleep but we had so many things to share – secrets of teenagers. The hours we spent on roads to study were much less than what we spent to share our little secrets, adventures and escapades. Though our group had around six or seven fellows only two from the group came up to post-graduate level and the rest either just passed their higher secondary exam or flopped even in that. I would be so fresh when I was with this group and once I got into the terrace of our home to continue the studies, within no time the unconquerable goddess of sleep would embrace me.
My other study center was the St. Mary’s School-Church campus. I was almost a campus-kid since all my childhood and adolescent days were revolving around the church and campus. In those days there used to be two services everyday, the first as early as five in the morning and the other at 6 o’clock. Appa and amma used to get up at 4.30 and they would go to the first service. They would wake me up before leaving to the service. Amma would come back from the church. I would be then going for the second service. For many years we used to get our daily milk from the farm in the campus and so immediately after the service I should get the milk and rush back home. The farm was closed after some years and so I was relieved from that duty. When I reached the last two years of my schooling I stayed back after the service in the campus. The excuse was that I could study for an hour or two before going home. The school provided a room to study in the evening for some day scholars who did not have good facilities at home. This facility was extended to me even after I joined the college as I was the son of a popular teacher. So some hours in the morning and evening became hours of freedom for me. The strict discipline maintained at home would be missing and I was the master to myself in these hours. These were the hours of total freedom for me. I enjoyed these hours to the hilt.
Always there was magic between my textbooks and sleep. As soon as I took a textbook in my hands immediately the goddess of sleep would lovingly embrace me. Till I finished my studies I had this disease ! So I took to outdoors for my night study to overcome this problem. Till late evenings, say, up to 9 o’clock in the night our school campus became my study place after I joined college. This campus became part of my life since appa worked there and I had my whole school life there. And not only that, we had the church, the big cathedral and I was a regular church goer in those days. Till I reached my middle forties I preferred to attend services there for festivals like Christmas and Easter. The campus had been an inseparable part of my life and this attachment made me have my first grandson’s baptism there in that church.
The other place, which was my study-spot, was under the streetlights of our road. During nights, especially after 10 o’clock, a group of five or six of us, all from different schools but neighbors used to come together under the streetlights. The favorable spot for all of us was a corner building, which housed the local post office. There were two advantages. It had a brighter mercury light since it was a sort of road junction and the other one was a overhead shed which could protect us on cold wintry or rainy days. Studying under the streetlights had its own advantage. Since we were always in groups one cannot so easily sleep but we had so many things to share – secrets of teenagers. The hours we spent on roads to study were much less than what we spent to share our little secrets, adventures and escapades. Though our group had around six or seven fellows only two from the group came up to post-graduate level and the rest either just passed their higher secondary exam or flopped even in that. I would be so fresh when I was with this group and once I got into the terrace of our home to continue the studies, within no time the unconquerable goddess of sleep would embrace me.
My other study center was the St. Mary’s School-Church campus. I was almost a campus-kid since all my childhood and adolescent days were revolving around the church and campus. In those days there used to be two services everyday, the first as early as five in the morning and the other at 6 o’clock. Appa and amma used to get up at 4.30 and they would go to the first service. They would wake me up before leaving to the service. Amma would come back from the church. I would be then going for the second service. For many years we used to get our daily milk from the farm in the campus and so immediately after the service I should get the milk and rush back home. The farm was closed after some years and so I was relieved from that duty. When I reached the last two years of my schooling I stayed back after the service in the campus. The excuse was that I could study for an hour or two before going home. The school provided a room to study in the evening for some day scholars who did not have good facilities at home. This facility was extended to me even after I joined the college as I was the son of a popular teacher. So some hours in the morning and evening became hours of freedom for me. The strict discipline maintained at home would be missing and I was the master to myself in these hours. These were the hours of total freedom for me. I enjoyed these hours to the hilt.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
47. THE HOUSE WE LIVED IN FOR LONG - 12
THE HOUSE WE LIVED IN FOR LONG
Once appa got married, life changed a lot. Days of pampering and petting were over. Life took a different turn. I was so far a pet to everyone in the village. Everyone looked at me with utmost sympathy and special care and love were showered on me. I was a 'motherless-child' for every one. I stood out from the crowd in the village. All these things changed once we came to Madurai.
It should be 1949. I should have been five years old because immediately after our arrival I was admitted in the school in the first standard. Better I say something about the house where we got settled. It was an old house in the South Marret Street. Compared to the modern standards it was more a ‘mouse trap’. It was in a busy area and so like any other house it was packed among a row of houses on a considerably busy road. It was a rectangle and the portion we rented out was at the back of the house and the house owners lived in the front portion. The two portions were divided by a well. Like any old house of those days in Madurai this well was small, probably three feet in diameter. It was called nazhi kinaru ( 'cylindrical well' ). I don’t know what could have been the depth. But for a kid it looked very deep. For some time peeping into the well during noon time and seeing my image deep down there was a good past time. I was always afraid of looking into the well from outside in our village till I learnt swimming. But here there were protective stone slabs around the well and they were almost shoulder high to me then. I felt safe here unlike the large and open wells, which were like open-mouthed giants. This well had an important association with my early days since for many years – almost for the whole of my school life – I was in charge of keeping a large drum near the well always full for the use of the whole family. I used to have a big callus on my left knee since I used to keep that point of my knee as a fulcrum to help me pull the bucket and how I hated that responsibility imposed on me. Even at odd hours I would be asked to draw water. That is about the well. Let us come back to the house now.
I still wonder how we managed to live in that house for so long. It was a long period of 16 years – starting from my school entry to the end of the first year of my post-graduation. We entered the house as a three-member family, appa, amma and I. When we quit the house we were, I think, nine! There was only one pucca room and even that would be half-filled with sacks of rice for most part of the year, in addition to a wooden almirah, a sewing machine and a table and chair. I am wondering now how there was any moving space at all in that room since it was not even a big room. Wooden lofts on three sides of this room probably helped us keep most of our things. I had one rack in a cupboard on the wall for keeping my books and other things. My dresses would be in a small suitcase, which would be above the sacks of rice.
Then there was a sort of verandah with tiled leaky roof making it almost unusable during rainy days. The only safe place during such days was a corner made safe by curved stairs overhead. Even part of this was occupied by a manual grinder. The only furniture in this low roofed room was appa’s cot. Many a time that formed a tier system – appa on that cot and I safely cuddled under that, the lower berth! Then there was a kitchen. Don’t imagine a kitchen with a lot of cupboards, gas stove and all that. It had on all sides bamboo mats making it a separate entity with one cupboard on the wall and a firewood stove at the ground level with a stack of fire wood, and cow dung-cakes on one corner. We had also a luxury item of those days, a kerosene stove.
Wondering that I have not mentioned anything about a bathroom? Well, it was an open space next to the well and that was also the passageway for our portion. Appa made some arrangements with some more bamboo mats giving it a little more privacy. This passageway along the well had a great significance since it was a nightmarish experience to get somebody to our portion of the house. The passageway was narrow between the well and a wall. Part next to the well had a stony pavement but the other half used to be quite slippery with constant flow of water. Anyone stepping on that part was sure to fall like an uprooted tree. Whenever somebody visited our home for the first time they had to be carefully ushered for a ‘safe landing’ on our portion of the house. Once I got into college I never invited my classmates to my home worrying about the great fall they could experience.
There was one good thing about this house that it had an open terrace. It had half-built pillars. I was told that the owner wanted to go for another floor and paucity of funds deterred him from that and half-finished pillars stood as a silent testimony for that. Appa made a shed there with some bamboos and coconut-mats. This became a comfortable place for the students who used to come in large numbers for private tuition. Appa was a great and popular teacher in English and Math in our school. Till this day I consider him as the best teacher I had, especially his way of teaching English grammar was fantastic. It is not merely a son’s blind appreciation. But a real, impartial and judicious statement which I hold till this day.
The terrace became my living place once I got the courage to be there alone in the nights too. Because always the very big banyan tree on the next road with its rustling noise at nights could scare any week hearted person. Added to this was the story of somebody who committed suicide on the very next house. The room where the suicide took place was within a few feet. The stairs running down from this terrace was mostly very dark, who had very bright lights on those days! So whenever I alighted the steps at nights after switching off the only light at the terrace, I used to have a feeling that somebody, mostly the person who committed suicide in the next house, following or rather chasing me down. I used to run down faster in the beginning. Then I thought I should have a ‘face-to-face’ fight with this ‘follower’ once for all and do away with ‘him’ for all times. So with this decision I stopped running madly down from the terrace; instead I used to step down very slowly and at times would stop and turn around to warn anything that could be at my back. Once I did this a few times the fear was gone for ever and then staying alone in the terrace became routine and casual. Once I entered into my teens it became my abode for the nights. It was also my study room.
Once appa got married, life changed a lot. Days of pampering and petting were over. Life took a different turn. I was so far a pet to everyone in the village. Everyone looked at me with utmost sympathy and special care and love were showered on me. I was a 'motherless-child' for every one. I stood out from the crowd in the village. All these things changed once we came to Madurai.
It should be 1949. I should have been five years old because immediately after our arrival I was admitted in the school in the first standard. Better I say something about the house where we got settled. It was an old house in the South Marret Street. Compared to the modern standards it was more a ‘mouse trap’. It was in a busy area and so like any other house it was packed among a row of houses on a considerably busy road. It was a rectangle and the portion we rented out was at the back of the house and the house owners lived in the front portion. The two portions were divided by a well. Like any old house of those days in Madurai this well was small, probably three feet in diameter. It was called nazhi kinaru ( 'cylindrical well' ). I don’t know what could have been the depth. But for a kid it looked very deep. For some time peeping into the well during noon time and seeing my image deep down there was a good past time. I was always afraid of looking into the well from outside in our village till I learnt swimming. But here there were protective stone slabs around the well and they were almost shoulder high to me then. I felt safe here unlike the large and open wells, which were like open-mouthed giants. This well had an important association with my early days since for many years – almost for the whole of my school life – I was in charge of keeping a large drum near the well always full for the use of the whole family. I used to have a big callus on my left knee since I used to keep that point of my knee as a fulcrum to help me pull the bucket and how I hated that responsibility imposed on me. Even at odd hours I would be asked to draw water. That is about the well. Let us come back to the house now.
I still wonder how we managed to live in that house for so long. It was a long period of 16 years – starting from my school entry to the end of the first year of my post-graduation. We entered the house as a three-member family, appa, amma and I. When we quit the house we were, I think, nine! There was only one pucca room and even that would be half-filled with sacks of rice for most part of the year, in addition to a wooden almirah, a sewing machine and a table and chair. I am wondering now how there was any moving space at all in that room since it was not even a big room. Wooden lofts on three sides of this room probably helped us keep most of our things. I had one rack in a cupboard on the wall for keeping my books and other things. My dresses would be in a small suitcase, which would be above the sacks of rice.
Then there was a sort of verandah with tiled leaky roof making it almost unusable during rainy days. The only safe place during such days was a corner made safe by curved stairs overhead. Even part of this was occupied by a manual grinder. The only furniture in this low roofed room was appa’s cot. Many a time that formed a tier system – appa on that cot and I safely cuddled under that, the lower berth! Then there was a kitchen. Don’t imagine a kitchen with a lot of cupboards, gas stove and all that. It had on all sides bamboo mats making it a separate entity with one cupboard on the wall and a firewood stove at the ground level with a stack of fire wood, and cow dung-cakes on one corner. We had also a luxury item of those days, a kerosene stove.
Wondering that I have not mentioned anything about a bathroom? Well, it was an open space next to the well and that was also the passageway for our portion. Appa made some arrangements with some more bamboo mats giving it a little more privacy. This passageway along the well had a great significance since it was a nightmarish experience to get somebody to our portion of the house. The passageway was narrow between the well and a wall. Part next to the well had a stony pavement but the other half used to be quite slippery with constant flow of water. Anyone stepping on that part was sure to fall like an uprooted tree. Whenever somebody visited our home for the first time they had to be carefully ushered for a ‘safe landing’ on our portion of the house. Once I got into college I never invited my classmates to my home worrying about the great fall they could experience.
There was one good thing about this house that it had an open terrace. It had half-built pillars. I was told that the owner wanted to go for another floor and paucity of funds deterred him from that and half-finished pillars stood as a silent testimony for that. Appa made a shed there with some bamboos and coconut-mats. This became a comfortable place for the students who used to come in large numbers for private tuition. Appa was a great and popular teacher in English and Math in our school. Till this day I consider him as the best teacher I had, especially his way of teaching English grammar was fantastic. It is not merely a son’s blind appreciation. But a real, impartial and judicious statement which I hold till this day.
The terrace became my living place once I got the courage to be there alone in the nights too. Because always the very big banyan tree on the next road with its rustling noise at nights could scare any week hearted person. Added to this was the story of somebody who committed suicide on the very next house. The room where the suicide took place was within a few feet. The stairs running down from this terrace was mostly very dark, who had very bright lights on those days! So whenever I alighted the steps at nights after switching off the only light at the terrace, I used to have a feeling that somebody, mostly the person who committed suicide in the next house, following or rather chasing me down. I used to run down faster in the beginning. Then I thought I should have a ‘face-to-face’ fight with this ‘follower’ once for all and do away with ‘him’ for all times. So with this decision I stopped running madly down from the terrace; instead I used to step down very slowly and at times would stop and turn around to warn anything that could be at my back. Once I did this a few times the fear was gone for ever and then staying alone in the terrace became routine and casual. Once I entered into my teens it became my abode for the nights. It was also my study room.
Friday, February 16, 2007
46. EVIL OF CASTEISM -11
EVIL OF CASTEISM
Before I reached my college days, this caste situation underwent a lot of changes, good and bad. Waiters in the hotels were not addressed anymore as sami. They were simply waiters irrespective of their caste affiliations. This was due to, I strongly believe, the social reformation that was brought by Periyar and his Dravidian movement. But the sad thing was this movement was mostly anti-brahminic and not pro-dalit, a term which came into being only very late. So sami was replaced by ‘waiter’ but the so called low-castes and the treatment they meted out in the society remained so for long – rather, it still continues. Periyar’s service would have made people realize that brahmins were not from the forehead of Brahman as believed but the pitiable plight of shudras and panchamas remained and is remaining almost the same as it had been for centuries.
Even in college days, I never became conscious of this caste differences. Caste was a thing about which I never bothered. The first instance in my life when caste or its importance surfaced was when I shot my very first application for a job. It was even before results of masters exam. I responded to an advertisement from a college. I applied. Though people suggested that I should mention my caste I did not. Somebody gave me an idea that I should add my caste name as the postfix to my appa’s name so that I get an advantage since the college was run by people of my own caste. I did not. Then in the interview I was repeatedly asked some indirect questions – like my father’s name, the grand-father’s name – since that was the period when the previous generation always had the caste name added to one’s name and the next generation slowly shedding it -, then my native place which could be clue to my caste. So both I and the interviewer were beating around the bush. Then came the very direct question. I had to answer. When the interviewer came to know of my caste he started saying how sad he felt since the job had already been promised to another guy – of course not belonging to my caste and how glad he would be if I applied again later. I enjoyed his predicament. But never applied to that college again.
More than half of my career went on without any shade of casteism. But in the later years this evil had spread so much in the society it got very much reflected in the college life too. In the later eighties, as I know, the dalit movement had come up in the open making the dalits demand their social and political rights. Animosity between dalits and people of thevar caste, the later being just above dalits in the caste hierarchy caused a lot of friction in the social milieu and this got reflected in every social sphere. The saddest part was that even in a college like The American College, which was and is a cut above many other colleges, had been afflicted with this social malady.
Before I reached my college days, this caste situation underwent a lot of changes, good and bad. Waiters in the hotels were not addressed anymore as sami. They were simply waiters irrespective of their caste affiliations. This was due to, I strongly believe, the social reformation that was brought by Periyar and his Dravidian movement. But the sad thing was this movement was mostly anti-brahminic and not pro-dalit, a term which came into being only very late. So sami was replaced by ‘waiter’ but the so called low-castes and the treatment they meted out in the society remained so for long – rather, it still continues. Periyar’s service would have made people realize that brahmins were not from the forehead of Brahman as believed but the pitiable plight of shudras and panchamas remained and is remaining almost the same as it had been for centuries.
Even in college days, I never became conscious of this caste differences. Caste was a thing about which I never bothered. The first instance in my life when caste or its importance surfaced was when I shot my very first application for a job. It was even before results of masters exam. I responded to an advertisement from a college. I applied. Though people suggested that I should mention my caste I did not. Somebody gave me an idea that I should add my caste name as the postfix to my appa’s name so that I get an advantage since the college was run by people of my own caste. I did not. Then in the interview I was repeatedly asked some indirect questions – like my father’s name, the grand-father’s name – since that was the period when the previous generation always had the caste name added to one’s name and the next generation slowly shedding it -, then my native place which could be clue to my caste. So both I and the interviewer were beating around the bush. Then came the very direct question. I had to answer. When the interviewer came to know of my caste he started saying how sad he felt since the job had already been promised to another guy – of course not belonging to my caste and how glad he would be if I applied again later. I enjoyed his predicament. But never applied to that college again.
More than half of my career went on without any shade of casteism. But in the later years this evil had spread so much in the society it got very much reflected in the college life too. In the later eighties, as I know, the dalit movement had come up in the open making the dalits demand their social and political rights. Animosity between dalits and people of thevar caste, the later being just above dalits in the caste hierarchy caused a lot of friction in the social milieu and this got reflected in every social sphere. The saddest part was that even in a college like The American College, which was and is a cut above many other colleges, had been afflicted with this social malady.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
45. 10- PERIYAR & THE CASTE SYSTEM
PERIYAR & THE CASTE SYSTEM
In my childhood days in Kasiapuram I used to find one odd thing. It was the visit of some poor people in the late hours of evenings with their bowls to every house in the village. They were the dhobis and barbers of the village. They would come by the back door and very humbly announce themselves. Ladies of the houses would give them a chunk of old maize-choru or kazhi as it was known. For this they used to make this kazhi once a week. There were so many questions in my mind then. Why not they could be given freshly prepared kazhi and why always week-old kazhi? Why should they come so humbly and ask for alms? Why were these people treated differently from our other relatives? Even as a child I was tutored to call or talk to them with least respect. Even aged people were called by even children in such language? So many questions. But I never dared to ask anyone about it since it was part of that village life. Whether I liked it or not, I too called them in the usual disrespectful way as everyone. This habit came to an end only when I was around 9 – 10 years old. By that time I hade moved to Madurai.
We had a hair-cutting salon near my house and that is where my appa used to take me for my monthly hair cut – those days I had really thick hair on my present bald head! The owner’s name was Thangam and his salon was entirely of a different type unlike other salons of those days. Salons of those days used to have an array of mirrors and lot of pictures of pin-up girls. I still don’t understand the psychology of those decorated salons of yester years. Was it because it was out and out a male domain and they had the privilege of drooling over such sexy pictures? I still don’t know. Nevertheless Thangam’s salon was not of that type. His shop was quite above the road level without any proper steps; just some stone blocks served as the steps. Whenever I went there I had to be hauled up by Thangam into the shop from the ‘steps’ which were so low. He had just two large mirrors opposite two salon-chairs. There were no pictures; no blaring radio; no unnecessary crowd discussing national and international politics. In any such a salon you could find every minute somebody dropping in to give ’final touches’ to their hairdo, using the comb and mirror of the salon for free. I never knew whether they were all regular customers or regular intruders. Walls of the salon would be very clean. But there used to be only one picture occupying a prominent place in the salon. At that time I did know whose photograph was that. I thought it could be somebody related to Thangam. I used to go there for the regular cutting only with my appa and here too I found appa talking to Thangam in the same parlance as they did in village to those who used to come for the kazhi late in the evenings.
Probably I was doing fourth or fifth standard when for the first time appa sent me to salon alone. He gave instructions as to how my hair dressing should be done and asked me to pass those instructions to Thangam. When I got into the chair in the salon I started reeling out the instructions given by appa. I addressed him using the same disrespectful language. Thangam listened to my instructions. Then very calmly in a soothing tone he asked me which class I was doing. I told him. The next question was very pointed. Did your teacher teach you like this to address elders in this disrespectful language? I was stunned. The question whacked me right on my face. Mr. Thangam appeared to me growing into a colossal figure right in front of my eyes. I mumbled my apology. From that minute I always addressed my elders with respect irrespective of any other factor.
Latter I came to know the photograph that adorned the walls of Mr. Thangam’s salon was the portrait of E.V.R. Periyar !
*
In my childhood days in Kasiapuram I used to find one odd thing. It was the visit of some poor people in the late hours of evenings with their bowls to every house in the village. They were the dhobis and barbers of the village. They would come by the back door and very humbly announce themselves. Ladies of the houses would give them a chunk of old maize-choru or kazhi as it was known. For this they used to make this kazhi once a week. There were so many questions in my mind then. Why not they could be given freshly prepared kazhi and why always week-old kazhi? Why should they come so humbly and ask for alms? Why were these people treated differently from our other relatives? Even as a child I was tutored to call or talk to them with least respect. Even aged people were called by even children in such language? So many questions. But I never dared to ask anyone about it since it was part of that village life. Whether I liked it or not, I too called them in the usual disrespectful way as everyone. This habit came to an end only when I was around 9 – 10 years old. By that time I hade moved to Madurai.
We had a hair-cutting salon near my house and that is where my appa used to take me for my monthly hair cut – those days I had really thick hair on my present bald head! The owner’s name was Thangam and his salon was entirely of a different type unlike other salons of those days. Salons of those days used to have an array of mirrors and lot of pictures of pin-up girls. I still don’t understand the psychology of those decorated salons of yester years. Was it because it was out and out a male domain and they had the privilege of drooling over such sexy pictures? I still don’t know. Nevertheless Thangam’s salon was not of that type. His shop was quite above the road level without any proper steps; just some stone blocks served as the steps. Whenever I went there I had to be hauled up by Thangam into the shop from the ‘steps’ which were so low. He had just two large mirrors opposite two salon-chairs. There were no pictures; no blaring radio; no unnecessary crowd discussing national and international politics. In any such a salon you could find every minute somebody dropping in to give ’final touches’ to their hairdo, using the comb and mirror of the salon for free. I never knew whether they were all regular customers or regular intruders. Walls of the salon would be very clean. But there used to be only one picture occupying a prominent place in the salon. At that time I did know whose photograph was that. I thought it could be somebody related to Thangam. I used to go there for the regular cutting only with my appa and here too I found appa talking to Thangam in the same parlance as they did in village to those who used to come for the kazhi late in the evenings.
Probably I was doing fourth or fifth standard when for the first time appa sent me to salon alone. He gave instructions as to how my hair dressing should be done and asked me to pass those instructions to Thangam. When I got into the chair in the salon I started reeling out the instructions given by appa. I addressed him using the same disrespectful language. Thangam listened to my instructions. Then very calmly in a soothing tone he asked me which class I was doing. I told him. The next question was very pointed. Did your teacher teach you like this to address elders in this disrespectful language? I was stunned. The question whacked me right on my face. Mr. Thangam appeared to me growing into a colossal figure right in front of my eyes. I mumbled my apology. From that minute I always addressed my elders with respect irrespective of any other factor.
Latter I came to know the photograph that adorned the walls of Mr. Thangam’s salon was the portrait of E.V.R. Periyar !
*
Monday, February 12, 2007
44. 9- AN APPARITION - SIGHTING OF ANGELS
AN APPARITION - SIGHTING OF ANGELS
Yemen was once given the responsibility of taking me back to Kasiapuram after a visit to Kurumbalaperi. We went by bus and after alighting from the bus to reach our home we had to walk by a sandy stretch through palmyra-tamarind fields. Along the stretch we had our family cemetery. It had tombs of our grandparents and that of my amma. I used to always have a mixed feeling whenever I went that side. It was a bit weird. I always wanted to sneak a look at the tomb and at the same time had a sort of fear to look at that side at all. Usually the former feeling used to win. This time I was on the shoulders of Yemen and he started talking about amma as we were nearing the cemetery. I was, as usual, in splits. I was under Macbethian to-be-or-not-to-be dilemma. I did not turn till we almost crossed the cemetery. But I succumbed to the temptation at the last minute. I turned for a fraction of second towards amma’s tomb. What I saw there is still quite fresh in my mind. On both the sides of my mother’s tomb I saw two very tall angels in the usual kneeling position with bowed head and folded hands that we see in pictures. Those two guardian angels were so brighteningly white. They, in the kneeling position, were to the height of the palmyra trees at the background. It was just for a fraction of a second but that “apparition” had become a permanent mental picture.
As an atheist now I analyze that ‘apparition’. It had been rammed into me that each person would be ‘supplied’ with a guardian angel and it takes care of you and all that stuff. And one sees pictures and statues of angels in that kneeling position. I was also quite convinced that my mother should have gone straight to heaven since she was considered by everybody as a good person. These facts being in my inner mind made me see what I wanted to see there. Rather it was a projection of my own mental picture. Apart from the dream my periyamma had at the time of amma’s death which I said about earlier, this is the one another ‘supernatural’ thing that had occurred in my life. While I am able to give satisfactory explanation for this second episode, I am still not able to adduce any explanation for the first.
After I switched over to urban life Yemen visited us twice. He came to Madurai for some medical help. Though I did not understand anything about his ailment then, now I assume that he should have got gangrene on his toe. He was advised to get it amputated. But he refused the first time and went to back to his village. After some time when he came back it seemed the condition had worsened and was asked to go for amputation of the whole foot. He declined to go for it and went back. That was the last of him. I came to know that he passed away shortly due to that wound. Whenever I went to Kurumbalaperi after that I used to enquire about his family. I got only disinterested answers. By that time chithi got married and my visits to Kurumbalperi became rare. Though I had never got any other information about him or his family, till this date his memories in me have never left. Probably he became a reference point in my life for my feelings towards the evils of caste system. Better I talk about this in a separate chapter.
*
Yemen was once given the responsibility of taking me back to Kasiapuram after a visit to Kurumbalaperi. We went by bus and after alighting from the bus to reach our home we had to walk by a sandy stretch through palmyra-tamarind fields. Along the stretch we had our family cemetery. It had tombs of our grandparents and that of my amma. I used to always have a mixed feeling whenever I went that side. It was a bit weird. I always wanted to sneak a look at the tomb and at the same time had a sort of fear to look at that side at all. Usually the former feeling used to win. This time I was on the shoulders of Yemen and he started talking about amma as we were nearing the cemetery. I was, as usual, in splits. I was under Macbethian to-be-or-not-to-be dilemma. I did not turn till we almost crossed the cemetery. But I succumbed to the temptation at the last minute. I turned for a fraction of second towards amma’s tomb. What I saw there is still quite fresh in my mind. On both the sides of my mother’s tomb I saw two very tall angels in the usual kneeling position with bowed head and folded hands that we see in pictures. Those two guardian angels were so brighteningly white. They, in the kneeling position, were to the height of the palmyra trees at the background. It was just for a fraction of a second but that “apparition” had become a permanent mental picture.
As an atheist now I analyze that ‘apparition’. It had been rammed into me that each person would be ‘supplied’ with a guardian angel and it takes care of you and all that stuff. And one sees pictures and statues of angels in that kneeling position. I was also quite convinced that my mother should have gone straight to heaven since she was considered by everybody as a good person. These facts being in my inner mind made me see what I wanted to see there. Rather it was a projection of my own mental picture. Apart from the dream my periyamma had at the time of amma’s death which I said about earlier, this is the one another ‘supernatural’ thing that had occurred in my life. While I am able to give satisfactory explanation for this second episode, I am still not able to adduce any explanation for the first.
After I switched over to urban life Yemen visited us twice. He came to Madurai for some medical help. Though I did not understand anything about his ailment then, now I assume that he should have got gangrene on his toe. He was advised to get it amputated. But he refused the first time and went to back to his village. After some time when he came back it seemed the condition had worsened and was asked to go for amputation of the whole foot. He declined to go for it and went back. That was the last of him. I came to know that he passed away shortly due to that wound. Whenever I went to Kurumbalaperi after that I used to enquire about his family. I got only disinterested answers. By that time chithi got married and my visits to Kurumbalperi became rare. Though I had never got any other information about him or his family, till this date his memories in me have never left. Probably he became a reference point in my life for my feelings towards the evils of caste system. Better I talk about this in a separate chapter.
*
Sunday, February 04, 2007
43. 8- YEMEN - THE OUTCASTE!
YEMEN - THE OUTCASTE!
Let me go back to Kurumbalaperi since I have to mention one another important character. He was Yemen(ஏமன் - எமன் என்பதின் மரூவாக இருக்குமோ?). I had only short association with him but he had remained as a very important character in my life. I don’t know the exact reason how his character had been etched so deeply in my mind. He used to be a tall and well built man. Whenever I used to visit Kurumbalaperi he would come to see me. But he would not enter our home. He would wait in the outer quadrangle but once I come out he would lift me and would carry me around on his shoulders. I felt that he took both pleasure and pride in doing it. When I go out with him it would be very tough for me to make him allow me to walk with him. He always insisted that he should carry me. People in my family showed affection for him but in the early years I was always wondering why he was not permitted to enter our home in spite of the affection they had. It took time for me to understand the intricacies of the caste system. It was so strictly followed in villages that entry into our homes was a forbidden thing for them. The in-built complex in him due to his so-called low birth had made him feel indebted to my amma. He was from lower caste and by the custom of those days in villages he had to depend on our family for all their material needs. When he lost his elder sister with whom he had been very close he wept so inconsolably. My amma consoled him that she would be his akka. That had made him feel so grateful to her since according to his own narration to me it was unthinkable for a higher caste person to accept a person of lower caste as a sibling. Now I wonder what a rift the caste system had made between people. My own caste is not anything that comes under the so called ‘higher’ bracket. Still the divide between castes was and is so deeper into the psyche of the people.
Let me go back to Kurumbalaperi since I have to mention one another important character. He was Yemen(ஏமன் - எமன் என்பதின் மரூவாக இருக்குமோ?). I had only short association with him but he had remained as a very important character in my life. I don’t know the exact reason how his character had been etched so deeply in my mind. He used to be a tall and well built man. Whenever I used to visit Kurumbalaperi he would come to see me. But he would not enter our home. He would wait in the outer quadrangle but once I come out he would lift me and would carry me around on his shoulders. I felt that he took both pleasure and pride in doing it. When I go out with him it would be very tough for me to make him allow me to walk with him. He always insisted that he should carry me. People in my family showed affection for him but in the early years I was always wondering why he was not permitted to enter our home in spite of the affection they had. It took time for me to understand the intricacies of the caste system. It was so strictly followed in villages that entry into our homes was a forbidden thing for them. The in-built complex in him due to his so-called low birth had made him feel indebted to my amma. He was from lower caste and by the custom of those days in villages he had to depend on our family for all their material needs. When he lost his elder sister with whom he had been very close he wept so inconsolably. My amma consoled him that she would be his akka. That had made him feel so grateful to her since according to his own narration to me it was unthinkable for a higher caste person to accept a person of lower caste as a sibling. Now I wonder what a rift the caste system had made between people. My own caste is not anything that comes under the so called ‘higher’ bracket. Still the divide between castes was and is so deeper into the psyche of the people.
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