December 19, 2011
It was one of those grey days. Overcast since morning. It would have been a gloomy day from the start but neighbor aunty brought some home-baked cake.
Melts-in-the-mouth goodness! Oh the delectable feel of butter!
I hope it is only the first in the stream of Christmas goodies that will come home in the coming days.
Spent a few quality minutes in the morning trying to find an English equivalent for the Malayalm idiom "kaala pettennu kelkumbol kayar edukuka" (Rush in with a rope on hearing that a pregnant bull has delivered). Couldn't find a match though it was fun reading through maxims/proverbs and idioms.
In the spirit of the season, started reading the autobiography of Mar Chrysostom, the longest serving bishop in India. The man is known for his wit. The book is neatly packaged into short chapters and is refreshingly honest. What I had heard about his wit is true. When I had chanced on this book a couple of months ago while arranging the book shelves, I had thought of disposing it along with other religious, moralizing propaganda material. That would have been a big mistake.
Growing up near Maramon on the banks of the Pamba river, he comes from a farming background. During his childhood, kids would help the adults guard the plantain fields. Banana thieves were common. He says they used to roast unripe plantains over campfires on some nights. I have never tried roasted raw plantains. They sound delicious. One night, despite all the guarding, someone snuck in and made away with a big plantain stem. A hunt was immediately launched with torches. No use.
The leader of the guard team suggested that there was only one man who could have pulled off such a clean job: Changanessery Chacko, the notorious local thief! So the leader went and hid behind Chacko's yard fence. Sure enough, after a few minutes, Chacko arrived with the stolen commodity. He handed it over to his wife and told her that he had a narrow escape from the torch-bearing hunters. All his experience had served him well. He boasted that only he could have pulled it off. "Of course," said the guard, revealing himself, "that is why I had been waiting for you here." And he walked away, reclaiming the plantains from the hands of the dumbstruck couple.
Another episode from his school relates to a student caught cheating in the exam. The proctoring teacher had failed to notice the copying but the external inspector touring the classrooms had caught the boy in the act. The headmaster decided to cane the culprit in front of the school assembly as was traditional. But the teacher insisted that it was a lapse on his part that he hadn't spotted the student. So he demanded that he be caned in the assembly. The headmaster reluctantly relented. When the cane landed on the teacher's outstretched palm, the guilty student, tearfully ran to him and fell hugging his feet.
The bishop writes no one in the school who witnessed this great example of crime, punishment, responsibility and repentance ever forgot about it.
He attended the famous UC College, Aluva as the Indian independence struggle
was entering its final decade. The popular uprising against the Travancore Divan, Sir C.P. Ramaswamy resonated within the campus. The police arrived for crack down. In the extended clashes that followed, students were injured, property was destroyed, college buildings suffered damaged. Yet the college principal decided not to allow police to enter the campus again.
"If the students cause damage again, don't bother calling us," said the pissed off Chief Inspector.
"This college was built by their parents. So if these kids destroy it, their parents would rebuild it or their kids will have to build it for themselves," declared the principal.
Gone are those days when the college management placed the well-being of students and their rights above the possible loss of property.
From his later days as a pastor, he remembers a couple who had filed for divorce. "Even God himself asks me, I will not live with her again," the estranged husband had said. Father Chrysostom tried real hard at the counselling sessions, but no use. He finally gave up. But his brother heard about this. The brother was neither a priest nor counselor, but was famous in the village as a die-hard negotiator. He took over counselling the couple. After a few months, the couple were reconciled and Chrysostom saw them together in the church. "You had said not even God will make you live with her and now you are back in the church?!" he joked.
The man confessed, "Father, living with her is more bearable than listening to the constant counselling of your brother!"
Light drizzle in the afternoon.
The new television ad for Tata Nano car shows four youngsters driving 150km to buy tea from a tea shop in some hill station to celebrate. I remember another program in which a frail, old lady (not an actress or model) said that she survived on a cup of black tea all day while doing manual labor. I don't know how these two Indias will ever be reconciled!
The Mullaiperiyar dam row has kicked up into a higher gear with road traffic between the two neighboring states almost fully stopped today. Vehicles are being stoned. TV channels of both states are doing their best to inflame more violence with their alarming and selective reporting. Malayalee owned businesses in Tamil Nadu and Tamilian owned businesses in Kerala are suffering by the thousands. Dangerous times!
What comes across from the early chapters of Chrysostom's autobiography is a life of simplicity and the happiness that sprung from that very simplicity. The 1920s in rural Kerala was a time well before money became the sole medium and arbiter of joy in life.
Watched director Ranjith new movie called "Indian Rupee" yesterday. The protagonist sums up his aspirations succinctly in the climax:
"A home with a/c bedrooms and drawing room, lawn and garden, 4 cars in the garage, dogs in the kennel, guard at the gate, only single malt whiskey or cognac to drink, branded shirts and underwear, a resident visa in Dubai, wealthy friends to play hosts for nights of celebration, 3 or 4 foreign trips a year, in Wayanad or Munnar an estate with a bungalow, among friends minimum 3-4 sons of politicians, acquaintances among higher ups in the police dept to protect, a few paid female bodies to share my bed during the trips so that I can love my wife guilt-free even more......these dreams of an average educated Malayalee youth."
Dreams have mutated in the last century.
In the afternoon read and reread an article about Bank of America's derivative exposure. It is indeed a strange state of affairs when a global recession, panic, unemployment and unrest is coupled with the banks managing cash flows of what amounts to $707 trillion in "financial assets"!
Luckily, so far, one doesn't need that kind of money to derive the joy of wonderful books! Thanks to diverse minds like the 93 year old Mar Chrysostom (man of the cloth) and the 98 year old Khuswant Singh (chaser of skirts) remaining vibrant even at their age.
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