Sunday, August 7, 2011 at 10:36pm
Another day of ‘Innova’tive wedding invitations. Amma wanted to conduct some puja at her native, sort of family, temple in the village. Very small temple, so they close by 9am. That meant we hit the highway by 6:30am. Our destination was not farther than 30 miles. It is like going from College Station to Navasota, but the roads and traffic here make it an hour and fifteen minute adventure.
We arrived at the temple, named Velliazcha kaavu (Friday cove) by 8am. The driver was familiar with the temple. Why should that be, we wondered, given this is tiny shrine in a remote village?! Turns out the area has become a much sought after destination for foodie tourists. In a converted paddy and coconut grove near by, flourishes a restaurant that specializes in preparing fresh fish, chicken and ducks which are grown right there. The place has gone down slightly in popularity these days since its liquor license has been revoked. Till a few months ago, high end cars from as far away as Kochi used to parade into “our native village” for the fresh food.
Amma made offering of silk to the goddess. The painting of the deity outside the temple has the goddess rather sensuously tilting and lifting her left heel accentuating her hips. The black stone idol inside was severe in comparison. The young priest was covering the idol with sandal paste before sticking imitation jewelry on it. We were the only visitors. He warned us about the slippery walkways.
Two quick ‘archanas’ were done for my sister and her fiancée. ‘Thetti’ (Ixora) flowers and lotus petals were used. Sweet smell of camphor. I startled a couple of pigeons that had homed on the roof of the Ganesh shrine. A Royale whiskey bottle was being reused to store oil.
After visiting amma’s younger sister, her husband came along to guide to some ancestral property where my grandfather was cremated. There is a practice of planting a coconut tree to mark the spot. Needle in haystack is a western idiom, searching for a particular coconut tree in rural Kerala is a meaningful paradigm.
Turns out there are some relatives living there whom I had never met. Amma was all upbeat with stories about the thick cashew forests and dense thickets that covered the place in her teens. Now there are a handful of houses and fences. Thickets and cashews have long been gone, but a variety of trees and plants still survive. We were guided to the particular coconut tree which now stoood in some unknown person's yard as a support for a clothesline. Amma stood in silence. She did not break out into a song film-style. I was disappointed.
We had breakfast there. Steaming hot appams. These used neither yeast nor coconut, the secret to their softness and taste: addition of cooked rice kept overnight to the batter. We collected hibiscus, basil (thulasi) and rose stems for our home garden project. One of my favorite dishes I had missed in USA was drumstick leaves. We wasted no time in stripping bare the drumstick tree that stood there.
More relative visitations and tea drinking continued all morning. The total number of enquiries about my prospective wedding has soured into double figures with eight more today.
Sagas of family feud were narrated. I think the lack of Rayalseema type bloodshed took away major impact from the drama. Fights were exclusively verbal. When I narrate these tales years down the lane, I will add some fisticuffs and perhaps a knife to boost the ‘glamour’ factor.
From my limited exposure to Malayalam literature and mostly thanks to the legendary humorist VKN, I am aware of the trait of the Nair caste couple of generations ago to wax sentimental about their lost feudality. Most of the conversations I heard today tells me that the trait survives. If the long lost generation wallowed in self pity for lost estates and vanished coffers, the current generation wails about having sold their land for pittance before the real estate boom in the state. “It is virtually impossible to find manual laborers these days and they don’t come for anything less than Rs. 500 a day plus food.” Apparently this is outrageous! The supply and demand curve so needs to be redrawn accounting for caste sentiments!
In most homes visited today, as soon as it is mentioned that I just landed from America, the hosts’ eyes casually dart onto the headline of the Malayalam newspapers lying on their tables. Mathrubhumi headline screams ‘America stumbles’ and Manorama said something equally apocalyptic about the credit rating downgrade.
I forgot to mention yesterday that I spent time with two headmasters. Venu chettan (=elder brother) is currently active and Leela valiyamma (=’big mother’ as in amma’s elder sister) has retired. I had to remind Venu chettan that I studied in Texas.
“Is that how it is pronounced?, he was curious, “because Malayalam newspapers and magazines write it as ‘Tech-Sauce’!” He made me repeat a couple of times so that he would remember. I am glad he did. Usually I run into people here who believe their way is the only way and the right way.
Before we parted ways yesterday, Leela valiyamma asked me if cousins and siblings of our generation will keep in touch the way she and Amma had. Frankly, I don’t think so. I told her so.
In villages we visited today, change has been minimal. Greenery abounds. Fervor of saffron and glitter of gold only matter to those hearts that have lost sensitivity to the scintillating foliage green.
Overheard some construction workers discussing the tale of a local man who bit back a snake that had bit him. Stray dogs in the cities do not make eye contact, those in the villages do.
Second last stop for the day was at one of my favorite uncle’s home. The temple nearby was blaring Ramayana with excruciating loudness. It was nearly impossible to hear each other inside the house even after the door was closed. ‘Gajjar halwa’ prepared in homemade ghee reduced the suffering a little. I guess the temple wins this round of the loudness competition against the local mosque.
This uncle, much to my amazement, has converted himself into an astrologer after his retirement in the last few years. This was our first meeting after his hugely successful new profession specializing in marriage horoscope matching. So he said it is time to “lock me in” as well in matrimony. He had just returned from attending some spirituality seminar and started talking about ‘Sookshma Shareera’, ‘Sthoola Shareera’ , 'Paramatma' and other mumbo jumbo. I had to put on the Swami Arunananda mode and babble for five minutes about spirituality. The ‘locking in’ was immediately taken off the table and uncle asked when we could sit down for a one-on-one chat!
Last stop for the day was at another aunt’s. She was there in New Jersey with my cousin to receive me when I reached US for the first time in August, 2000. Now her other son and family are all set to immigrate to Canada. From October she will be dividing her time between NJ and Vancouver. A discussion ensued there about ‘Living Together’ which is the desi name for ‘living in’ relationship. There was a heated debate about it on some TV channel the previous night. It seems many couples who work at the software hub here (called Technopark) are ‘living togetherers’!
Those who have been following these notes would have realized that I have an inordinate number of uncles and aunts. My grandfather was, apparently, quite the stud. I learnt today that his mother i.e. my great grandmother gave birth to him when she was 51. I come from a rather fertile lineage! Though they didn't go much forth from the native village, they certainly did multiply with biblical passion!
The Innova and the driver were relieved by 6pm. Two more visits later in the night. First to the Reserve Bank of India Regional Director’s home. She opined that educated youth and intellectuals to should start moving out of the cities and into the villages to spread development and prevent inequality. Next visit was to another colleague of Amma’s who dabbles in homeopathy in his spare time. 15 years ago, I was taken to him for my asthma troubles. His ‘medicine’ fixed it. And couple of years later in Mumbai he told me that the asthma and the fixing had to do with my fear of failure than any nasal or lung problem!
More discussion about American economy.
As I finish typing, Amma is doing the prep work on the drumstick leaves for tomorrow.
It’s going to be a good day!
Another day of ‘Innova’tive wedding invitations. Amma wanted to conduct some puja at her native, sort of family, temple in the village. Very small temple, so they close by 9am. That meant we hit the highway by 6:30am. Our destination was not farther than 30 miles. It is like going from College Station to Navasota, but the roads and traffic here make it an hour and fifteen minute adventure.
We arrived at the temple, named Velliazcha kaavu (Friday cove) by 8am. The driver was familiar with the temple. Why should that be, we wondered, given this is tiny shrine in a remote village?! Turns out the area has become a much sought after destination for foodie tourists. In a converted paddy and coconut grove near by, flourishes a restaurant that specializes in preparing fresh fish, chicken and ducks which are grown right there. The place has gone down slightly in popularity these days since its liquor license has been revoked. Till a few months ago, high end cars from as far away as Kochi used to parade into “our native village” for the fresh food.
Amma made offering of silk to the goddess. The painting of the deity outside the temple has the goddess rather sensuously tilting and lifting her left heel accentuating her hips. The black stone idol inside was severe in comparison. The young priest was covering the idol with sandal paste before sticking imitation jewelry on it. We were the only visitors. He warned us about the slippery walkways.
Two quick ‘archanas’ were done for my sister and her fiancée. ‘Thetti’ (Ixora) flowers and lotus petals were used. Sweet smell of camphor. I startled a couple of pigeons that had homed on the roof of the Ganesh shrine. A Royale whiskey bottle was being reused to store oil.
After visiting amma’s younger sister, her husband came along to guide to some ancestral property where my grandfather was cremated. There is a practice of planting a coconut tree to mark the spot. Needle in haystack is a western idiom, searching for a particular coconut tree in rural Kerala is a meaningful paradigm.
Turns out there are some relatives living there whom I had never met. Amma was all upbeat with stories about the thick cashew forests and dense thickets that covered the place in her teens. Now there are a handful of houses and fences. Thickets and cashews have long been gone, but a variety of trees and plants still survive. We were guided to the particular coconut tree which now stoood in some unknown person's yard as a support for a clothesline. Amma stood in silence. She did not break out into a song film-style. I was disappointed.
We had breakfast there. Steaming hot appams. These used neither yeast nor coconut, the secret to their softness and taste: addition of cooked rice kept overnight to the batter. We collected hibiscus, basil (thulasi) and rose stems for our home garden project. One of my favorite dishes I had missed in USA was drumstick leaves. We wasted no time in stripping bare the drumstick tree that stood there.
More relative visitations and tea drinking continued all morning. The total number of enquiries about my prospective wedding has soured into double figures with eight more today.
Sagas of family feud were narrated. I think the lack of Rayalseema type bloodshed took away major impact from the drama. Fights were exclusively verbal. When I narrate these tales years down the lane, I will add some fisticuffs and perhaps a knife to boost the ‘glamour’ factor.
From my limited exposure to Malayalam literature and mostly thanks to the legendary humorist VKN, I am aware of the trait of the Nair caste couple of generations ago to wax sentimental about their lost feudality. Most of the conversations I heard today tells me that the trait survives. If the long lost generation wallowed in self pity for lost estates and vanished coffers, the current generation wails about having sold their land for pittance before the real estate boom in the state. “It is virtually impossible to find manual laborers these days and they don’t come for anything less than Rs. 500 a day plus food.” Apparently this is outrageous! The supply and demand curve so needs to be redrawn accounting for caste sentiments!
In most homes visited today, as soon as it is mentioned that I just landed from America, the hosts’ eyes casually dart onto the headline of the Malayalam newspapers lying on their tables. Mathrubhumi headline screams ‘America stumbles’ and Manorama said something equally apocalyptic about the credit rating downgrade.
I forgot to mention yesterday that I spent time with two headmasters. Venu chettan (=elder brother) is currently active and Leela valiyamma (=’big mother’ as in amma’s elder sister) has retired. I had to remind Venu chettan that I studied in Texas.
“Is that how it is pronounced?, he was curious, “because Malayalam newspapers and magazines write it as ‘Tech-Sauce’!” He made me repeat a couple of times so that he would remember. I am glad he did. Usually I run into people here who believe their way is the only way and the right way.
Before we parted ways yesterday, Leela valiyamma asked me if cousins and siblings of our generation will keep in touch the way she and Amma had. Frankly, I don’t think so. I told her so.
In villages we visited today, change has been minimal. Greenery abounds. Fervor of saffron and glitter of gold only matter to those hearts that have lost sensitivity to the scintillating foliage green.
Overheard some construction workers discussing the tale of a local man who bit back a snake that had bit him. Stray dogs in the cities do not make eye contact, those in the villages do.
Second last stop for the day was at one of my favorite uncle’s home. The temple nearby was blaring Ramayana with excruciating loudness. It was nearly impossible to hear each other inside the house even after the door was closed. ‘Gajjar halwa’ prepared in homemade ghee reduced the suffering a little. I guess the temple wins this round of the loudness competition against the local mosque.
This uncle, much to my amazement, has converted himself into an astrologer after his retirement in the last few years. This was our first meeting after his hugely successful new profession specializing in marriage horoscope matching. So he said it is time to “lock me in” as well in matrimony. He had just returned from attending some spirituality seminar and started talking about ‘Sookshma Shareera’, ‘Sthoola Shareera’ , 'Paramatma' and other mumbo jumbo. I had to put on the Swami Arunananda mode and babble for five minutes about spirituality. The ‘locking in’ was immediately taken off the table and uncle asked when we could sit down for a one-on-one chat!
Last stop for the day was at another aunt’s. She was there in New Jersey with my cousin to receive me when I reached US for the first time in August, 2000. Now her other son and family are all set to immigrate to Canada. From October she will be dividing her time between NJ and Vancouver. A discussion ensued there about ‘Living Together’ which is the desi name for ‘living in’ relationship. There was a heated debate about it on some TV channel the previous night. It seems many couples who work at the software hub here (called Technopark) are ‘living togetherers’!
Those who have been following these notes would have realized that I have an inordinate number of uncles and aunts. My grandfather was, apparently, quite the stud. I learnt today that his mother i.e. my great grandmother gave birth to him when she was 51. I come from a rather fertile lineage! Though they didn't go much forth from the native village, they certainly did multiply with biblical passion!
The Innova and the driver were relieved by 6pm. Two more visits later in the night. First to the Reserve Bank of India Regional Director’s home. She opined that educated youth and intellectuals to should start moving out of the cities and into the villages to spread development and prevent inequality. Next visit was to another colleague of Amma’s who dabbles in homeopathy in his spare time. 15 years ago, I was taken to him for my asthma troubles. His ‘medicine’ fixed it. And couple of years later in Mumbai he told me that the asthma and the fixing had to do with my fear of failure than any nasal or lung problem!
More discussion about American economy.
As I finish typing, Amma is doing the prep work on the drumstick leaves for tomorrow.
It’s going to be a good day!
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