Song of the waves - Parayil A. Tharakan Blog: Olavipe

Showing posts with label Olavipe. Show all posts

Thursday, September 18, 2014

The last song… The miracle of death

He was the last of the Karanavars (Patriarchs) and yet he was a man ahead of his times. In the apparent contradiction lies the man. P.K. Abraham Tharakan (aka Pappachan), was a free-thinking spirit, who carried the class, the charisma and the culture of his forefathers lightly on his shoulders. The class was reflected in his innate philosophy of life, in his sensitivity, respect and concern for others, an appreciation for fellow human beings and a readiness to lend a helping hand, regardless of his own difficulties. It is the kind of class that is rarely seen today.

He often quoted Appan, his father, who had told him before he died, that change and adaptation was crucial to progress. And so, he changed with the times.

The boy who crossed the customs check point on overnight trips via vallum (country boat) from Olavaipe in the Kingdom of Travancore to Ernakulam in Cochin,

- as an early teen saw and took part in the dawn of independent India,

- as a student led Kerala’s cricket and hockey teams to victory,

- as a young man guided his large tribe of younger siblings after his father's early death,

- later, faced the onslaught of communism against the old feudal order,

- travelled the seas to America to hold successful talks for a partnership with General Motors,

- engaged in strategic deals with the then communist Chief Minister C. Achutha Menon (Kerala economy: The NRI money pile) to create a major manufacturing unit in labour-resistant God’s Own Country,

- rediscovered the mystic of the old ways in the hands of a water diviner when western technology failed to unearthen underground water resources,

- in his later years discovered and mastered the new ways of the internet universe and the online world of blogging.

However, what really separated him from the multitude was his strength, courage and compassion. Some souls are sent on earth to help others, and we believe that was what he was sent here to do.

(Acts of kindness) His race is run, he fought the good fight… the fight that faces all of us frail human beings. And now is his time to rest.

May his soul rest in peace. God bless him.

Posted by his children

Thursday, February 21, 2013

A Syro-Malabar Church Wedding

Syro- Malabar Church with its headquarters in Cochin is the second or third largest Rite in the Catholic Church. It is also the largest denomination among the different factions of the original pre-Portuguese Malabar Church.

There is a great deal of similarity in the matrimonial customs among the various Christian segments in Kerala. Some of the procedures are even common to those practiced by the Hindus. But regional, cultural and status-wise variations do exist.

Though the number of love marriages is rapidly increasing, arranged marriages are still common. The avenues for this are mainly matrimonial advertisements, marriage bureaus, relatives and common friends. Both sides make enquiries about the other and if compatibility is indicated on critical factors, the boy and the girl meet, may be several times.

If they like each other, Kalyana nischayam is held. It is sometimes called Kalyana Urapeer and means formally fixing the marriage. In the past, only a few senior men from both sides used to attend such meetings, at the boy’s place. But now ladies also take part.

The next important step is Manasammatham or betrothal conducted by the bride’s side. This is a big event though it has no Canonical or legal value. The boy and girl declare to the priest in the parish church that they are willing to marry each other according to the laws of the Church. The boy puts a ring on the girl’s finger. The priest blesses them. Then they sign a register. It is witnessed by one person from each side and countersigned the priest.

But before the betrothal takes place, the boy and the girl have to attend separately a two day stay in Marriage Preparation Course at an approved facility. This is a very good system. Various important aspects of family life are explained to those who are about to get married. It can be of great help.

In my family, Parayil, the priest used to come to the house and conduct the Manasammatham function. I think we were the only ones who were permitted this rare privilege. But after many generations it was stopped about ten years back by Mar Varkey Cardinal Vithayathil, the then Head of the Syro-Malabar Church.

After the betrothal, the bans are notified at the parish churches of the boy and the girl. If any one has sufficient valid reason that the notified marriage should not take place he is obliged to report the matter to the parish priest. But if there is no objection, the parish priest issues the required certification to his counterpart at the church where the function is to take place.

On the wedding eve there are evening parties at the boy’s and girl’s places. This is known as Mathuram Vekkal meaning ‘giving sweet’. Close relatives and friends would be present. The sweet used to be either a conical savoury called ayani churut or grated coconut mixed with honey and a bit of salt kept on the side of the plate. These days mostly cakes are used. In the case of the bride her sister and husband, and for the boy his sister and husband usually performs this.

There used to be a practice of the bride’s eldest maternal uncle taking her around the house after Madhuram Vekkal in the light of a koluvilakku in what is called ‘bidding goodbye to the paternal home’. One purpose of this was to give the tenants and workers who would not be attending the wedding an opportunity to see the bridal ornaments. Now this is rarely done.

Usually, the boy’s side conducts the marriage. Before proceeding to the church the boy and the girl pay respects to their elders and take their blessings. Formerly weddings used to be held only on Monday and Thursday mornings. Now it can be on any day. But on Sundays weddings or betrothals can be blessed only after 12 noon. This is because the Catechism classes are held in the morning.

After the actual function is over, the bride and the bridegroom, one witness from each side and the priest sign the Wedding Register. (These days the couple go through the civil marriage registration as well.) After that there would be another Madhuram Vekkal wherever the reception is held. That would be followed by lunch, tea party or dinner.

Reproduced below are some photographs of a wedding held last August.

The boy placing the engagement ring on the girl's finger

at St. Martin de Pores Church, Olavipe

Our tharavad Thekkanattu Parayil where the betrothal function was held

When the boy and the girl reach the house from the church they

are escorted with ceremonial umbrellas from the gatehouse to the

main building.

Lunch goes on in the background. View from the outhouse (below)

where refreshments were served.

Requirements for Madhuram Vekkal on wedding eve. On the left is kindi

(water container with a sprout) and kolambi (spittoon). The bronze bowl in front with

flower petals contains a tiny lamp.

The madhuram - grated coconut with honey and salt.

The girl washing hands before taking Madhuram.

Koluvilakku.

The priest lighting nilavilakku before the matrimonial services start at Edapally Church.

The requirements for the ceremony. The essentials are banyan leaf shaped thali (it is not clearly seen here but is on the red thread and will be later shifted to the gold chain) Manthrakodi (a saree which is equivalent to Pudava in Hindu custom) and rings to be exchanged.

The bridegroom ties the thali. The woman is to wear it for the rest of her life.

Mantrakodi is placed on the bride's head.

Swearing by the Holy Bible.

The boy's sister would take the Manthrakodi, fold it and place it

on the girl's left arm

The couple cutting the wedding cake at Le Maredien, Cochin

where the luncheon party was held.

A smile from the bride, my youngest daughter. The trend these days is that the bride

does not wear too much jewellery. The contrast is shown in a photo

from the web given below.

All photographs except the last one are by Chackochen of Thycattusserry.

■

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Moosa bids goodbye

Maramveettil Mammini Moosa passed away peacefully on Thursday, the 8^th of this month. That morning he was in his shop next to his house. He felt some discomfort in the afternoon and died half an hour later. He was 83 years old. That is estimation. It was known that he was born after the floods of ’99.

You might be wondering who this person was. Moosa was a native of my village, Olavipe. It is difficult to answer if questioned what his achievements in life were. He just lived and died, one among the many, many millions. But his life was exemplary.

Olavipe has only about 10 Muslim families. They are all inter-connected. Chekutty (see Nostalgia: Cinema, cinema) was the first to come. He joined my great grandfather (see A judgment.) as a young boy and saw five generations of our family. I remember him proudly describing to us the velvet attire (perhaps a sherwani) which he had worn for his wedding about a century ago. My great grandfather had bought this for him, from Cochin I suppose.

After his marriage Chekutty set up home in Olavipe in a plot called Kalathara. Then he brought his younger brother Kunjo and his brother in law Mammini also to our village. Moosa was Mammini’s son. Mammini died of cancer, in the 1960s.

Moosa was fair and handsome from his schooldays (primary school) till his death. Even in his later life he did not have a paunch or flab and looked as young as ever, except for the hair turning gray. Also unchanged was his smile. It was always there. I have never seen him looking worried or sad.

He was an honest, straightforward and uncomplicated man. And a gentleman to the core. One could always trust him. Moosa was Ammachi’s. Mukthiyar Kariyasthan (manager vested with General Power of Attorney) with even the power to sell her lands. That was a rare statement of trust. In our family such power of attorney was given only to the most reliable of our supervisors.

The last time I was in Olavipe I called on Moosa at his house. I was meeting him after quite some time. It was a happy occasion for both of us. We spent a long time chatting, mostly about the bygone days and people.

A cousin of mine once said that Moosa was one of the very few people who were qualified for Heaven. I suppose that is where he is now.

Well, adios, Moosa.

Also see:

A unique prayer.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Narayanan and our cribs

Decorating the house for Christmas is over. It looks nice, colourful. I never realized that there are so many ornamental items for beautifying a place. Each year new ones hit the market.

Most of them, I believe, come from China – lights which cost anything from Rs.25 to Rs.1000 each, fireworks ranging from Rs5 to Rs.5000, and so on. Cribs, accessories, Christmas trees are all available in the shops. I wonder how much money flows out of the country on this account each festival season.

During my childhood, there were no Christmas decorations as such in our village. Every year stars used to be made at home with bamboo frame and colour paper. (Was it called China paper? I’m not sure.) Either candles or small kerosene lamps were used to light them. They looked lovely, but if there was breeze, some of them could catch fire. This situation prevailed till 1957 when Olavipe was connected to the power grid.

Only the churches and a few affluent Christian homes used to have cribs in our area. And they were made locally, except the figurines. I think those were imported, but certainly not from China. These cribs were normally crude jobs but nevertheless it was nice to have them.

Enter Narayanan.

He was seven or eight years elder to me and about 18 or so at that time. I think it was Ammachi. who put him on to making cribs. He could easily comprehend the idea – basically simulating the cattle shed where Jesus Christ was born.

Before midnight Narayanan had a beautiful crib ready for the statuettes to be placed.

The way he planned the job was remarkable. First of all he collected some thin reeds that grew along the edges of the rice fields and bamboo stalks. Now came the brilliant part. He looked around and selected a wooden stool that was not too tall, turned it upside down and placed it on the floor.

Presto, the base and the corner pillars of the crib were ready.

Narayanan made the roof with the bamboo sticks and fixed it on the posts. The sides and the top were covered with the reeds. Some hay was placed inside the crib for the cattle shed effect. That completed the job.

Having firsthand knowledge from watching Narayanan, I once tried to make a crib. I was with Ruby Rubber Works at that time and staying at Tiruvalla. I had collected the required materials and sat under a shade tree in the courtyard with a mug of chilled beer. My children were around me, watching with fascination.

Suddenly the elder boy, about four years at that time, vomited. ‘Daddy, he drank your beer’, his elder sister said, rather frightened. I took him inside, cleaned him up with the help of my wife and since he was asleep, put him on a bed.

Then I phoned the family doctor. He listened carefully to me and came out with statement, ‘Let the boy sleep it out. He will be okay.’

That year we didn’t have any crib for Christmas.

Coming back to Narayanan – I don’t know for how many years he went on making the crib exclusively for us. It must be some sort of a record. He is still alive and mobile, but unfortunately his eyesight has been failing for sometime now. His crib-making days are over.

Narayanan’s son Rameshan, a fine chap, is with us. He doesn’t make cribs, but is a driver.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Kerala Architecture: A heritage home undergoes repairs

Before concrete structures came into vogue, the roofs of Kerala houses were made with wood. In Malayalam it is known as melkoora or melkoodu. The amount of calculations that go into making a melkoodu is amazing. And each wooden piece that forms a part of it has to be precisely made.

Assembling – that is exactly what it is – all the beams and crossbeams and rafters and support items is a critical phase in the construction of a house. If there is even a minor mistake in the calculations or the dimensions of the made parts, the assembling would fail.

The wood that is normally used is old anjili (jungle jack tree). It is a hardy wood capable of withstanding the vicissitudes of time and weather. (A clarification seems necessary here. Anjili, though belonging to the same family, is different from jack fruit tree.) Nevertheless, it is safer to check the structure for possible damages. The common problem is rain water seeping in through the tiles on to the wood pieces that support them.

Currently we are undertaking repairs to the top roof of our ancestral house, Thekkanattu Parayil at Olavipe, Kerala, India. This is the second such venture in my memory.

In large houses, such repairs are done in parts: one area is finished and then the work moves to the next area. There is always an urgency to ensure that the job is completed before the southwest monsoon arrives in June.

My bother Jacob has pointed out an interesting aspect of this round of repairs to the house. The wood used is from an anjili which is estimated to be 120 years old. This means that when the house construction started in 1890, the tree would have been a tiny sapling!

Trees are vital and it is sad to cut them down. But it is also important to maintain homes, heritage or otherwise. Thachusastram (the Kerala science relating to construction) permits felling of old trees for meaningful purposes. Anyway, we have dozens of anjilis at various stages of growth on our lands and we take good care of them.

I am reproducing below some photos of the house. The last one offers a sight that is rare because very few houses with wood melkoodu are built these days.