Cricket in remote areas

Recently, while talking on the occasion of the Platinum Jubilee of India’s entry into Test cricket, Sachin Tendulkar said that the Indian Cricket Board (BCCI) should concentrate on taking the game to the remote areas of the country. He is right of course. There would be so much of undiscovered talent in the vast Indian countryside.

My village, Olavipe was an extremely remote area till a road link was established in 1970. And cricket came to the place in 1941; that is, sixty six years back, just nine years after India’s Test debut! The man behind it was OC George, Ollattikulam, the husband of my younger aunt Annamma (Kunjammai). We used call him Achhan. He and his brothers were well-known sportsmen of the erstwhile Cochin State.

For my First Holy Communion, which was celebrated on a fairly large scale, Achan gave me three presents – a football, a ball badminton set for four, and a cricket kit. Among the people present, only three knew how to play cricket – Achan who had been captain of the St. Thomas College (Trichur) cricket team in his student days, and three cousins of Appan. They explained the details about the game to us children and also gave a demonstration.

From then on cricket was regular for us. For some time we used real cricket balls but later shifted to tennis balls. That was more fun. And old tennis balls were available from the two tennis courts the family had. Almost all of us got into the cricket teams of our respective colleges. Later we had a family team consisting of cousins only (something like the Princes’ team of Thripunithura). Our team performed well in club matches and tournaments at Cochin and Alleppey.

But in all these 66 years, no one from Olavipe went beyond the inter-collegiate/inter-club level. This might appear to negate Tendulkar’s views. Not so, really. The only exposure the local youngsters got to the game was watching us play and carrying the kitbags.

During the last two decades, things have changed though. Now dozens of boys all over the village play cricket with a passion that was created mainly by watching games on TV. There is even an annual tournament in which several outstation teams also participate. We of course give all the encouragement we can.

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Also see: When strong men cried...

Travel: Beaches off the beaten track

These photos by KO Isaac are of beaches near Tiruchandur in southern Tamil Nadu, India.

Also see Raindrops by Isaac

Kerala plantations: The bed tea ceremony that was

In my childhood Kerala’s High Ranges where full of sahibs, almost all of them connected with plantations – tea, coffee, rubber, cardamom, pepper. I remember that in the Planters’ Clubs that I used to visit with my maternal uncles during summer holidays, they far outnumbered the Indians.

With India’s Independence, the situation changed. By the 1950s, the plantation sector in Kerala was in turmoil. Mainly labor trouble. The sahibs, most of them British, started selling out to Indians and leaving the country. After my youngest uncle Michael A. Kallivayalil bought JJ Murphy’s Yendayar Estate and my brother Joe (PKJ Tharakan) was posted as manager there, staying in the Irishman’s bungalow, I went there to spend a weekend, I think in December, 1959. Murphy’s staff was still there and the place was run on the old routine.

Those days the plantations had no public power supply. The estates with tea or crepe rubber factories had their own generators. But they were run only during the day when the factories worked. As a result there was no power in the bungalows during nights.

Before we retired after dinner, the butler, a pleasant chap named Muthu who had spent years with Murphy had checked when I wanted bed tea to be served.

At the appointed time there was a knock at the door. A ceremonial parade was on. In front of the line was a bearer carrying a Petro Max lamp; it was still quite dark and cold. The second person had a small light table, I suppose in case I preferred to have tea in bed. They were followed by Muthu in full livery, turban and all, holding the tray in his right hand in level with his shoulder. All very proper.

After the ‘good mornings’ Muthu gave me an enquiring look and I pointed to table in front of the sofa set. He placed the tray on it and waited. I told him thank you, I’ll pour myself. The trio withdrew, but in reversed order – Muthu first and then the other two.

On the tray were tea pot, milk jug in case a guest wanted to be sacrilegious enough to add cream to unblended estate tea, cup and saucer and one ripe yellow banana. That was the standard menu.

All that is gone. Now it is more down to earth bed tea, or coffee.

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Also see: Irish planter, punter, soldier, playboy

Pebbles and pavement

Pavements are usually made with stones that are shaped by humans and attractively arranged. But pebbles are formed by nature and they are just beautiful. Have you ever thought how long it takes these pebbles to attain their shapes? Centuries? More?

Photos: ©KO Isaac

Also see:

Photos: Raindrops by Isaac

Ripples on water

Kerala food: Achappam

Achappam is a crisp savory. It is round, golden brown in color and with an intricate design that resembles a flower. A mold heated in oil is used to make it; ‘achu’ in Malayalam means mold.

I used to think that achappam is a South Indian delicacy till reading recent posts (June 21, 22) in my good friend Jacob Matthan’s Jacob's Blog (an interesting site, I must say). He and his wife Annikki stay in Oulu, Finland. They go to a Thai restaurant in Oulu and guess what they find? Achappam!

This image is from Jacob's Blog, which has a few good pictures of the savory. Jacob immediately writes about it in his blog. He follows it up by providing the recipe for this delicacy. And the recipe is by none other than late Mrs. K.M. Mathew, the famous culinary expert. Jacob is her nephew.

Go to Jacob's Blog and read all about it.

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Also see:

Kerala Cuisine: Manga thera (mango mat) recipe

Mango trees: 'ottu mavu' and 'nattu mavu'

Today I got a reference about ‘nattu (native) mavu (mango tree)’. The mangoes from these are small. There are two types of them. The sour variety is generally used for curries and pickles but there are sweeter types for juice and making a delicacy called ‘thera’. See my post Mango Memories.

‘Ottu (grafted or budded) mavu’ is not native to the land. Their mangoes are table fruit. Another difference between the two types of trees is that ‘ottu mavu’ is intentionally planted whereas ‘nattu mavu’ grows at random, from discarded nuts.

The photo below is that of an ‘ottu mavu’ in a corner of our front yard. It is an Alfonso. I bought the sapling from the government nursery at Cochin and planted it about fifteen years back. It was a sickly looking tiny plant with one of the two branches already dead. That was the only one available. I had my doubts whether it would survive, but it caught on well probably because of the sandy soil. The brownish leaves on the tree are tender ones. You can see supports to prevent the low branches from touching the ground. Children have a great time climbing the tree. The mangoes are excellent.

Here we have the picture of a ‘nattu mavu’ just outside our gatehouse:

I have no idea how old the tree is. Over a hundred years? That would mean that it has seen six generations in our family – my great-grandfather during his sunset years to my grandson who is just seven. The tree has been like this from the time I can remember except that some of the lower branches were cut off so that they wouldn’t block the road. Look carefully and you can see the stumps. The tree stopped yielding about ten years back, but still seems healthy.

I hope that this grand old lady lives on to witness at least one more generation.

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Photos: ©KO Isaac

Click on the images to enlarge.

Also see:

Mango Memories

Water lilies: here is a picture of nature's perfection, imperfection

Photo: KO Isaac

I felt so sad seeing this picture, in fact rather depressed. Out of the three water lily buds, two seem perfect and one is deformed or damaged. Is it a genetic deficiency or disfigurement caused by external forces? First I thought of cropping out the defective one but decided to keep it any way because that is reality, part of nature.

Water lily is a hardy plant that grows in fresh water bodies. Their flowers are very pretty. In the same field you can find water lily blooms of different colors. We have plenty of them in Olavipe, in the rice fields and in the lake, some times in the ponds and canals as well.

They die out when the water starts turning saline around December. But the bulbs containing the seeds – they are edible – remain embedded in the lake floor to sprout again when the rains come in June and salinity is neutralized. Where salt water doesn’t enter, you find water lilies throughout the year.

Out of one of those seeds that lay buried, the plant shown in the picture came up. Why did it produce a blemished bud? Will it open at all? Even if it does, no village girl will make a garland out of it and wear. No one would cut a flawed flower and display it in a vase.

We see this everyday in human life. In the same family some children are strong and healthy and some weak and sickly. There are so many mentally challenged people, physically handicapped ones. Why? And what can we do for them?

Ends.

Also see: Karthiki captures some Olavipe flowers