The gentle west wind hums/ As it blows in from the lake/ Over the fields and swaying palms/ The soul songs of the waves.
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Copyright: Author.
During my school days I was a voracious reader of novels and short stories. One day Appantold me that kind of reading alone was not sufficient, that I should broaden my coverage of different subjects.
He gave me an article by Nagavally RS Kurup on Netaji Subash Chandra Bose in a magazine. This was shortly after the trial of Indian National Army (INA) personnel in the Red Fort was over. I found the piece of writing fascinating and read up everything I could about Netaji and the INA.
I often feel that the story of this great leader and the brave men who took up arms with him to fight for India’s freedom has not received the place it deserves in Indian history.
It was unfortunate that Gandhiji and Netaji did not see eye to eye on important matters. If they had stood together, perhaps the partition of India could have been avoided.
I hope to write a full fledged article about Netaji Subash Chandra Bose. This is only a brief note.
How many Indian school children know that Bose had established a Government for Free India (Azad Hind) which had an army, a central bank, postal department etc?
I used to collect stamps in my school days. My favorite was this set of Azad Hind stamps:
Last week on TV I watched the Malayalam movie Raappakal directed by Kamal, and starring Sharada and Mammootty. A good one. The theme is something that is happening quite frequently in Kerala these days – ancestral homes (tharavads) being sold. The buyers convert them into resorts or residential complexes.
Most of the heirs are happy about it. But some are sad, sentimental. In the movie, they include Sharada, the lady of the house, and Mammootty, who has no rights over the property but had spent his entire life there as a servant.
A few months back I had received a souvenir brought out by an ancient and prominent Syrian Christian family on the eve of their tharavad being sold. That was something unusual. This family got together, had a celebration, and bid adieu to their ancestral home in style. I thought the idea of a memento was excellent.
The articles in the souvenir are all by women who were born into the family. That is just as well because they are the ones who carry childhood memories of the place, who automatically understand the culture of the family, for whom the building is always ‘home’, even decades after they are married off.
The Foreword to the Souvenir says, ‘They are written by Appachen and Velliammachi’s (grandfather and grandmother) grand-daughters, a group of sensitive and vulnerable women who have been lovingly protected and cherished in their childhood, and are deeply attached to their roots.’
Again, ‘Beautiful old tharavads are coming down all over Kerala. Old, sprawling rural homes need the manpower of large joint families and family retainers to maintain the house and parambu (land), tend to the poultry and livestock and the produce of the parambu – such as coconut, jackfruit, tamarind, banana, kappa (tapioca), and so much more – fix the roof tiles and clean the wells each season, and keep the kitchen going around the clock, not just with daily meals for the family and help, but also other interesting food processing. This included extraction of coconut oil in large urulis, hand pounding of rice flour and coffee, seasonal palaharams (savouries) and pickles, the list could go on for ever.’
I am picking out random pieces from the different articles in the souvenir. It is likely to present a haphazard picture, but hopefully one that is still vivid.
Quoting from other contributions to the souvenir: ‘I remember Ammachi (mother) calling the doves from the dovecote in the garden to feed them. I also remember going with Velliammachi, along with my sisters and cousins, to bathe in the stream near the house. We would all get into the shallow end of the water, and Velliammachi’s woman attendant would pour water over her and hand her the soap, while we splashed and swam around and enjoyed ourselves.’
On the walk down to the stream, ‘The air was pungent with the cloying aroma of ripe jackfruit. The constant buzz of cicadas grew louder and in the distance we heard the trumpeting of an estate elephant. The trees thinned out and then, jumping over a stone stile, we were at the road by the creek. The water ran cold and swift, but was shallow enough for wading and collecting fish in our little glass jars.’
From another article, ‘On the way back one day, she [Velliammachi] told me to hold her glasses. I put them on and they were so strong that I started feeling giddy, so I quickly took them off.’
‘There was a big band of servants… Velliammachi had a lot of fruit trees, which we would climb. She had a garden with a variety of roses. The Edward Rose was her favourite – a beautiful pink flower with a lovely fragrance. There was a tree called Powrah mulla. It had small, sweet smelling flowers with orange tubular stems. ‘
Other indelible pieces include a four-year-old pulling Velliammachi out of her bed to go mulberry plucking, playing with the elephants, Lakshmikutty and Dharmaraj, on the muttam (courtyard) and stealing bits and pieces of mango thera (mat) from where the delicacy was put out to dry.
The evening prayers involved long spiritual rigor. The preparations would start early at the chapel in the house. Collecting and arranging flowers, lighting the lamps and candles, spreading out mats were chores to be handled by the girls. At the appointed time, everyone would gather at the prayer room – ‘all the aunts and uncles and cousins who were either staying there or visiting, gathered for prayers.’
These articles have turned out to be about the matriarch of the house. Hardly anything is mentioned about her husband who was an important leader in his community. The reason is that he died before most of the writers were born.
To conclude, let me return to the Foreword: ‘As time goes by, patterns of living change. … The old patriarchs are gone, the arrahs (granaries) are empty, and young nuclear families need less space and more modern conveniences.
‘And so we say goodbye to our old family home and move on, handing the banner over to the next generation to remember our traditions and keep the family spirit alive.’
That is an interesting thought from the book Empires of the Indus The Story of a River. My good friend CR Natarajan had gifted me the volume by Alice Albinia when he and his family visited us recently after a pilgrimage from California, USA, to Thirupathi, India.
I haven’t finished reading the book yet, but can nevertheless say that it is superb. And, this is not a full fledged book review. I am only referring to the Preface and the first Chapter of the book to write this blog post. It has topical interest because of Jaswant Singh’s Jinnah controversy.
About ‘Industan’ – the suggestion was not illogical. The label abundantly suits the IndusValley which is the ‘Motherland of Hinduism’ and which became part of Pakistan. An English sailor had used the name in 18CE. But Muhammad Ali JInnah had insisted on calling the new country Pakistan, ‘Land of the Pure’, and naturally had his way.
Did Jinnah overplay his hand in selecting that name and lose out in the bargain? According to the author, Jinnah had believed that the Indian National Congress would opt for the Sanskrit name ‘Bharat’ for ‘Hindu’ India.
That would have been fine for Jinnah, Pakistan and Bharat, two new countries, though the latter really was an ancient name. But to his consternation the Congress stuck to the name India. Obviously, that left Pakistan a new entity in search of pedigree. ‘Industan’ would have carried the backing of millenniums of history.
Nations need heroes. For Pakistan, the automatic choice was Jinnah, the Founder of the Nation. The fact that he ‘continued to drink whiskey, eat ham sandwiches and dress like a Brit’ apparently did not matter. Just look the other way.
The author quotes her landlady as saying, ‘Great were the sacrifices involved in creating this country’ [Pakistan]. The author philosophizes ‘And whatever peccadilloes Pakistanis commit – however much whiskey they drink or usury they indulge in – they exhibit a profound and sincere belief’.
The book mentions Jinnah’s arrival on August 7, 1947, at the port town of Karachi, which was destined to be Pakistan’s first capital. It was the month of Ramzan that year. The city did not have enough mosques to accommodate the sudden swell in the rich Muslim population. ‘But Jinnah paid no heed to religious ritual, did not spare a thought for Islamic abstinence either. His hazy idea of a new country had suddenly come to fruition… ‘.
Also dealt with in the first chapter of the book are whether Jinnah was really keen on creating Pakistan, and his secular credentials. ‘Some commentators maintain that,’ the author says, ‘Jinnah was taken by surprise when the British conceded his demand for a separate state for Muslims – was he using the idea of a separate homeland for Muslims as a political leverage, a bargaining tool?’ Alice Albinia further points out, ‘All agree that he was dismayed by the eventual British settlement.’
Here is a quote from Jinnah’s speech three days before independence, reproduced in the book, ‘You are free to go to your temples, you are free to go to your mosques…. You may belong to any religion, caste or creed – that has nothing to do with the fundamental principle that we are all citizens and equal citizens of one State.’
Secular enough? The author claims that the speech has ‘been excluded from the editions of Jinnah’s speeches by the pious’. But it is available on the Internet.
Jinnah joined the Muslim League in 1913. He was already an established lawyer in Bombay, a committed nationalist, and a member of the Indian National Congress. Within a short time he was acknowledged as the ‘ambassador of Hindu-Muslim unity’
But soon matters started turning sour. Jinnah could not accept the Khilafat movement after the World War I, which Mahatma Gandhi supported. He felt that the campaign to reinstate the Caliphate in Turkey was meant to incite religious passions. He gave up politics in 1930 and relocated himself to London.
Quoting from the book, ‘He was persuaded to return in 1934, by which time several different permutations of the Muslim state he would eventually create had already been mooted. But still he refused to whip up religious passions….’ It was in 1937 that Jinnah declared that India’s Muslims and Hindus were different nations. The author points out that none of the criteria he used to differentiate the two ‘was explicitly religious’
.
Inevitably the partition comes, accompanied by the bloodbath and tragedies. ‘In 1947, to Jinnah’s distress, religious violence, not triumphant celebration, inaugurated Independence’. Jinnah (b. December 25, 1876) died ‘if not a broken man, then a profoundly disillusioned one’, of tuberculosis on the night of September 11, 1948. The author points out that the ‘official cause of death was “heart failure” (tuberculosis was considered a shameful slum disease)’.
Alice Albinia leaves Jinnah at the end of chapter one, and, as the back cover of the book sums up, ‘following the river upstream and back in time… takes the reader through two thousand miles of geography and more than five thousand years of history.’
What I have read so far of Empires of the Indus is fascinating. No wonder that the book has won so much kudos. Published by Hachette India, the paperback edition (366 pages) is available in the bookshops for Rs.375 per copy. Don’t miss reading it.
This is my mother’s house, Kallivayalil Konduparambil. She was not born here, but it was home to her till her marriage at the age of 15. But I was born in this building though it was Thekkanattu Parayil that I called home.
This may sound a bit complicated to non-Keralites. In the Christian community of Kerala, a lady would have at least her first confinement in her father’s house. Therefore Ammachi. was born in her maternal grandfather’s house, Tharappel.
The entire family is grateful to my youngest maternal uncle Michael A. Kallivayalil (see: An Indian village remembers its Irish ‘father’.) Aunt Mary, their son Joseph and his wife Preethi for maintaining this 140/150 years old house so beautifully though they normally stay at the hill station Peermade (see: Travel: Mist covers the mountain tops)
I always look forward to Onam, Kerala's state festival, which this year, was on September 2. It is a fascinating celebration, steeped in tradition, to welcome the mythical king Mahabali (Maveli) of Kerala. It is believed that during Mahabali's reign the people lived in prosperity and happiness and there were no malpractices.
The Onam celebrations consist of many cultural events, mock processions of the former King's triumphant annual visit to his former kingdom, singing and games and dances, feasting and drinking and boat races, rain and sunshine, flowers and pookkalams (floral designs).Our family had a special reason to remember this Onam. Ammachi's birth centenary was on August 28, during the Onam week.(See: Oru Desathinte Amma.)
But I missed it all. On the night of 28th August I developed a severe breathing problem at Chennai. The doctors discovered that I had three major blocks and advised a bypass operation. The procedure was done within a couple days.While I was in the hospital, the functions, particularly relating to Ammachi's birth centenary, were conducted quietly. The motif for the pookkalam designed by the staff at Olavipe Homestay, was the birth centenary itself.
Right in front is the banner '100', partly covering the traditional Kerala lamp with two lighted wicks.The background, to me, appears to be the figure of a kathakali artiste. A good job, I must say.
Since I have to keep both my feet up every half hour, continuous work on desktop is impractical. Therefore I am selecting some relevant Kerala photographs and giving short comments. I hope you like it.
Here is the photo of a model of Kerala's famous snake boat. The state has different type of race boats, but the Snakeboat or 'chundan' is the king of them all. It is fascinating to watch them knife through water. It is said that a winning team has to pull the oar more than 60 times a minute.
There is no proof to back it up if I say that there are more songs about dragon flies in Malayalam than in any other language. These flying beauties which are called 'onathumpi' is part and parcel of Onam. They come out in hoards during the seasom and provide inspiration to poets to turn out great melodies based on them.
This is a conceptual image of a Kerala Houseboat. Backwater tourism which has helped in turning around Kerala economy is remarkable story of finding new use for something fast turning obsolete. The huge country crafts that form the backbone of houseboat industry were originally meant to transport farm products and other goods.
Trucks and mechanized boats took the wind out of the sails of the countrycrafts. Then some visionary gave new life to the rotting boats and the world came to know about the enchanting backwaters of Kerala.
The world famous Kerala bananna chips are made from Nenthrakkaya shown above. The yellow chips in the photo below are thin and salty. The brown ones known as Sharkarapuratti are thicker and sweet. They are coated with a paste of jaggary and spices before frying.
A request: Please pray that I get well soon.
All photos copyright reserved. Click to enlarge. Photos by Capt. Philip Manipadam, Reejo, AT.
Some people call bloggers ‘scavengers of the media’. Never mind that. I am so touched by a news item that was splashed over the electronic and print media that I decided to write about it for the benefit of those who have missed the piece. To illustrate the contrast, I decided to add another story as well.
Sustaining loyalty
The kingdom was lost 62 years back. However, many of the erstwhile subjects and their descendants still have great regard for the Royal Family of Travancore. This was so movingly demonstrated at the KowdiarPalace, Trivandrum, once again yesterday.
A representative group of about fifty people including men, women and children reached the Palace with hill produces and curios made by them as offerings to the Royal Family. First they paid homage at the tombs of the late Maharaja Sri Chithira Thirunal Bala Rama Varma and his sister Princess Karthika Thirunal Lakshmi Bhai.
They were Kanikars, a tribe that inhabits the Agasthakoodam Biosphere Reserve (ABR) area, about 60km from the State capital. These tribesmen are considered to be experts in the medicinal uses of the nearly 2,000 species of plants that grow in the ABR.
Princess Pooyam Thirunal Gowri Parvathi Bhai received them into the Palace. Later, the present head of the head of the Royal Family, Uthradam Thirunal Marthanda Varma, joined them.
The Kanikars presented the offerings to the royal personages and complained about the problems they were facing. They left after spending about an hour at the Palace. They were given money for travelling expenses and for celebrating Onam, Kerala’s premier festival.
I did not know till yesterday that this ritual is faithfully followed every year.
$1.2 billion Onam
In his column ‘Business Boom’ in the Malayala Manorama today, P. Kishore makes some stunning revelations about the spending habits of Keralities for Onam.
The highlights are:
1. In certain sectors like home appliances including AC, 40% to 60% of the annual sale is during Onam season. The expected turnover is Rs.1000 crores.
2. Gold ornaments business is estimated to be Rs.3000 crores or 25% of the annual sales.
3. Cloth shops rake in 25-30% of their yearly sales during this season. Small change – about Rs.40-60 crore.
4. About 10,000 vehicles are expected to be sold during Onam against 8,750 last season.
5. Then there are the expenses for liquor and food.
According to Kishore, the total expenditure for Onam in Kerala this year would be at least Rs.6000 crores. At Rs.50 to a USD, this works out to USD 1.2 billion. Or, is my calculation wrong? The funding, it seems, comes mostly from personal loans by banks.
