August 17,2011
Superstitions aspire to be entitled either traditions or beliefs so that they attain some respectability. Today is Chingam 1, the first day of Malayalam calendar's new year. There is a "tradition" of 'first day visit' (onnamthiyathi kayaral). The first person to visit the home today is crucial. He or she brings all the luck for the year. My senior most maternal uncle was admitted yesterday night to the hospital. So with the wedding just around the corner, we need all the luck right away. Rema aunty was arranged to be the first visitor. She came over promptly by 7am. I had to return the favor. I was rewarded with "karipetti kaapi"at her place. Karipetti is a black, lumpy sugar extracted from palm and spiced with ginger, cumin etc. Karipetti kaapi is its brew in water. It's a fine drink.
Since the day before was Independence Day, the local newspaper delivery guys decided to take a holiday yesterday though English newspapers were in circulation. Rema aunty's husband, M. uncle, wants to form a local newspaper readers association against such atrocities. I was asked to sign up. The Karipetti kaapi made me agree.
Amma is leaving for Chennai today. She went to the neighborhood beautician
yesterday. "It doesn't look like anything has changed," I said when she came back. She pouted."...since 1992!" I added. It is easy to please Amma....sometimes!
Earthen pots used for cooking are being tempered to be taken to Bangalore where my sister will be setting up an apartment after marriage. We have dedicated pots (chatti) for cooking fish, vegetable curries and sauces/relishes etc. New ones are thoroughly washed first so that any unfused soot in their surface is removed. Then water is boiled in them. After that they are kept to dry in the sun. A couple of hours later, coconut oil is rubbed on the inner surface. This is also left to dry.
Visited my uncle in the hospital. Getting there was a pain in the morning traffic. Motorbikes and autorickshaws, like sand, take up any available crack. Our autorickshaw driver had a hi-tech horn. It must have been developed by CIA or FBI for torturing in Guantanamo. It produces a dolby digital, stereo surround experience. When your hand instinctively goes up to cover the pain in the left ear, the assault shifts to the right ear. As Russell Peters would say, 'truly mind-blasting'! And he was more trigger-happy than Texas Gov. Good Hair.
This hospital, near the famous Padmanabhaswamy temple's west fort, had two wings. The private rooms we went to first, were fabulous. Amazingly sanitized and air-conditioned. The young receptionist lady had a very prominent moustache. Inside the elevator, probably to emphasis that we are in a hospital, the emergency phone was also neatly bandaged up. The outpatient and scanning wing of the hospital was more "traditional". Met the sick uncle just before he was taken in for a scan. He had gone into a high sugar coma briefly but was feeling much better already. A big red warning sign hung on the scanning room door urging people not to bang on the door if it closed. Indians may be majority Hindu but they take the biblical advice to "Knock, and it shall be opened" very seriously!
Quite a few other uncles and aunts were in attendence and more were visiting him like us. I can't help but think that this will be the last well-knit generation of brothers and sisters. When we get to this age, hopefully, friends will take up the place of relatives! At a hospital, hopes always tend to run high!
All the stuff from the apartment my sister was vacating in Chennai was getting here today in a mini-lorry. This developed into a glorious case of misinformation in this information age. I had been told that no lorries are allowed inside the city between 8am and 8pm, so the stuff was to be expected around 9pm.
The driver Sudalaipaandi (now that's a name!) from Chennai was more enterprising and managed to sneak into the city through the border roads by 2pm. But then with my Tamil and his Malayalam, we somehow managed to confuse Attakulangara and Althara, which are nowhere near each other in pronounciation or location. After some running around and several phone calls, Sudalaipaandi from Palayamkottai, Thirunelveli piloted the packed truck down the deep gorge that is the road to our home. I was getting a bit irritated with all the hassle but he turned out to be one of those quintessential profusely humble, ever-smiling Tamilians.
It was impossible to pull the vehicle into our driveway, so unloading had to happen from the public road. This meant that the various "loading-unloading" labour unions could stake claim. They may not load or unload but they must be paid commission for any goods that needs loading and unloading. It is a grand scheme.
Since we weren't expecting the lorry before 9, none of the uncles and cousins who had offered to help were around. A family friend who runs a business near by was given panic call. Being a local businessman, he is experienced in dealing with the labor unions if they showed up. As soon as he arrived, we began unloading in a hurry. The lorry was cleaned out and everything dumped into our garage in 15 minutes with all eyes frequently on the look out for the dreaded blue uniforms of the unionists.
An unending pile of boxes and packages now meets the eye inside the house. I have no idea why all these had to shipped here. They could have been easily disposed off in Chennai. But Achan loves to hang on to things. All these would go into his legacy, I guess! And he is moving back to his permanent home.
I wonder if for my generation there would be a permanent home other than a retirement home. Our legacy might well be restricted to a few, easily deletable megabytes on the internet, a defunct google id and an inactive facebook account!
Superstitions aspire to be entitled either traditions or beliefs so that they attain some respectability. Today is Chingam 1, the first day of Malayalam calendar's new year. There is a "tradition" of 'first day visit' (onnamthiyathi kayaral). The first person to visit the home today is crucial. He or she brings all the luck for the year. My senior most maternal uncle was admitted yesterday night to the hospital. So with the wedding just around the corner, we need all the luck right away. Rema aunty was arranged to be the first visitor. She came over promptly by 7am. I had to return the favor. I was rewarded with "karipetti kaapi"at her place. Karipetti is a black, lumpy sugar extracted from palm and spiced with ginger, cumin etc. Karipetti kaapi is its brew in water. It's a fine drink.
Since the day before was Independence Day, the local newspaper delivery guys decided to take a holiday yesterday though English newspapers were in circulation. Rema aunty's husband, M. uncle, wants to form a local newspaper readers association against such atrocities. I was asked to sign up. The Karipetti kaapi made me agree.
Amma is leaving for Chennai today. She went to the neighborhood beautician
yesterday. "It doesn't look like anything has changed," I said when she came back. She pouted."...since 1992!" I added. It is easy to please Amma....sometimes!
Earthen pots used for cooking are being tempered to be taken to Bangalore where my sister will be setting up an apartment after marriage. We have dedicated pots (chatti) for cooking fish, vegetable curries and sauces/relishes etc. New ones are thoroughly washed first so that any unfused soot in their surface is removed. Then water is boiled in them. After that they are kept to dry in the sun. A couple of hours later, coconut oil is rubbed on the inner surface. This is also left to dry.Visited my uncle in the hospital. Getting there was a pain in the morning traffic. Motorbikes and autorickshaws, like sand, take up any available crack. Our autorickshaw driver had a hi-tech horn. It must have been developed by CIA or FBI for torturing in Guantanamo. It produces a dolby digital, stereo surround experience. When your hand instinctively goes up to cover the pain in the left ear, the assault shifts to the right ear. As Russell Peters would say, 'truly mind-blasting'! And he was more trigger-happy than Texas Gov. Good Hair.
This hospital, near the famous Padmanabhaswamy temple's west fort, had two wings. The private rooms we went to first, were fabulous. Amazingly sanitized and air-conditioned. The young receptionist lady had a very prominent moustache. Inside the elevator, probably to emphasis that we are in a hospital, the emergency phone was also neatly bandaged up. The outpatient and scanning wing of the hospital was more "traditional". Met the sick uncle just before he was taken in for a scan. He had gone into a high sugar coma briefly but was feeling much better already. A big red warning sign hung on the scanning room door urging people not to bang on the door if it closed. Indians may be majority Hindu but they take the biblical advice to "Knock, and it shall be opened" very seriously!
Quite a few other uncles and aunts were in attendence and more were visiting him like us. I can't help but think that this will be the last well-knit generation of brothers and sisters. When we get to this age, hopefully, friends will take up the place of relatives! At a hospital, hopes always tend to run high!
All the stuff from the apartment my sister was vacating in Chennai was getting here today in a mini-lorry. This developed into a glorious case of misinformation in this information age. I had been told that no lorries are allowed inside the city between 8am and 8pm, so the stuff was to be expected around 9pm.
The driver Sudalaipaandi (now that's a name!) from Chennai was more enterprising and managed to sneak into the city through the border roads by 2pm. But then with my Tamil and his Malayalam, we somehow managed to confuse Attakulangara and Althara, which are nowhere near each other in pronounciation or location. After some running around and several phone calls, Sudalaipaandi from Palayamkottai, Thirunelveli piloted the packed truck down the deep gorge that is the road to our home. I was getting a bit irritated with all the hassle but he turned out to be one of those quintessential profusely humble, ever-smiling Tamilians.
Since we weren't expecting the lorry before 9, none of the uncles and cousins who had offered to help were around. A family friend who runs a business near by was given panic call. Being a local businessman, he is experienced in dealing with the labor unions if they showed up. As soon as he arrived, we began unloading in a hurry. The lorry was cleaned out and everything dumped into our garage in 15 minutes with all eyes frequently on the look out for the dreaded blue uniforms of the unionists.
An unending pile of boxes and packages now meets the eye inside the house. I have no idea why all these had to shipped here. They could have been easily disposed off in Chennai. But Achan loves to hang on to things. All these would go into his legacy, I guess! And he is moving back to his permanent home.
I wonder if for my generation there would be a permanent home other than a retirement home. Our legacy might well be restricted to a few, easily deletable megabytes on the internet, a defunct google id and an inactive facebook account!
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