Every place in Keralam is a picnic spot. The place chosen by my father to build a house, after years of wandering from place to place, reveals his love for scenic beauty, or it may just be a combination of circumstances, for which generations of Uncle Vasudevan should be grateful to him.
The plot is on the bend of the river, the bank is quite steep, the perspective from the top can only be described by a poet. The house is in the foreground, to the right of the river that you see on my blog. Uncle Vasu built a bungalow there, with a terrace roof, something wonderful at the time. From the terrace, we used to look at the eastern mountains, western Ghats that turn bluish in the rainy season. In summer, we all slept there, looking at the diamonds scattered all over the sky. A Karkoli nambudiri taught us the names of some of those wonderful stars, the milky way through the starry sands.
The carpenters who worked there made a small canoe and gave it to my older brother. I am a natural water friend, maybe a fish in my last life. Watching the bamboo rafts slowly gliding along the full river, the workers cooking rice in a corner and fishing, he longed to be one of them when he grew up. Sometimes it would be a huge wooden boat, equipped with a thatched roof, something like a houseboat. Only in novels have I read about people traveling on boats on the Ganges.
As soon as we moved to our house by the river, my yarn ceremony was performed. I became Brahman, Ovinichunni, as we are called. The cover of my book shows the appearance of ovinichunni.
It was also the end of my early childhood. Every day I had to perform various rituals under the strict supervision of my father, who, one day, was so upset that he grabbed me by both hands, picked me up like he would a bunch of bananas, and beat me until his anger subsided. or got tired, I don’t know which one, all because I broke the sacred thread, while playing in the river water. I did not cry. But the agony is still fresh in my sensitive mind!
My father commented: you are more difficult to handle than an elephant.
People from neighboring houses came to wash and bathe there, because Dad made a bathing ghat in the river, duly paved with granite steps, and we always had the company of the village boys for our water sports. He was not aware of the fact that the thread somehow disappeared. It is excusable in a six year old. We hit children to unleash our feelings. Aren’t children God’s creation? Who authorized us to punish them?
My father is usually a very peaceful person. It is very slow and takes a long time to complete its morning rituals. He never uses the bath towel. The water will evaporate slowly. He was totally bald and had no teeth. In his bronze betel chewer, there was a special crusher to pulverize the mixture of betal leaves, canut nut, lime, tobacco and a little erattimadhuram (which means sweet double root). I don’t know what it is. We used to eat it, erattimadhuram, which is really very sweet.
At bedtime, he would tell us to punch him in the foot with all our might. My brother and I would handle each leg. It was fun.
He discussed many things with his brother, including the poetry in Samskrutam, that I could not follow. My brother was interested in learning and it is a true encyclopedia. He was at school for a while and he doesn’t know English; but he has read all the books in Malayalam. He knows our family history and has written down many things in a notebook. No one has seen it. He passed away recently, just before turning eighty.
Kirangatu Mana
One day we went to attend a performance in Kirangattu mana. I was in the women’s wing. I looked towards the outer wing of men and was glad to see KRS (Unniaphan, the son of Ramaphan)
He took me and showed me a wonderful new world. At about 3 in the afternoon, I suppose, an old man entered the temple. He sat on a tiger skin. KRS sat across from him and repeated everything the old man recited.
After a while, he asked me: do you like to learn othu (Veda)?
I quickly said yes. So he told me to sit next to KRS and I also repeated the lines of the Veda. I stayed in Kirangat mana with KRS for over a year.
Kirangatu Mana
Traditionally, the young namboodirs of the Kk family went to Kirangatu mana. They were our gurus. For Rigvedis there was mathematics at Trichur and one at Thirunnavaya. None for us Yajurvedis.
So it was not a surprise to our guru. Surely my anxious face must have caught his attention. At that time, Anujan and Kunjanujan’s nambudiries were not married. There were no children there. Naturally, we were all spoiled. There were many Nambudiris, most with wives in the royal palace of Tripunithura, who went there from time to time.
The tusks of Kesavan (elephant, owned by the mana) evoked wonder and admiration. Iron chains recalled the glory of the famous animal whose beauty was only surpassed by its cruelty (it killed about 16 mahouts). Only Pozhichur namboodiri, who was just the shop keeper and never stopped giving Kesavan something to eat, could hold his fangs. In the presence of this man, Kesavan became docile as a child! I never got tired of hearing the stories of the elephants.
There was a large country boat. The west side of the farm was a lake. I looked longingly at Chenam Island, but never had the luck of a boat trip. Today they are all dry. A huge manchadi tree provided us with dazzling red beads to play with. Every now and then, Vasudevan from neighboring Kannath mana would join us. I can keep writing about those times …