September 3, 2011
Those astronomers who seek evidence of the preplanetary stardust ejected at the time of the Big Bang should, before they spend millions on sophisticated telescopes and rocket launches, run their fingers on the top surface of the blades of the ceiling fans in Indian homes!
I was tasked this morning with the gathering some this primal powder. Though this clean up operation might appear as a preparation to welcome, as the legend goes, the old King Mahabali on his annual rounds to see the people of Kerala on Onam festival, the real reason is that Ajith and Tara are coming home tomorrow. They'll be here for a couple of days before taking off to Kumarakom resort. Ajith is our Mahabali, sans the paunch and the mustache, for the time being.
The ceiling fans on the ground floor are reachable, but the high sloping roofs keep the fans upstairs beyond me even if I double-stepping stool. Pirouetting on my toes leaves me feeling like an inadequate ballerina on whom the audience is showering insulting cobweb confetti. So I created a fake clean environment by increasing the smell of Dettol in the rooms.
In this land of beliefs, at times, the illusion of sanitation should do!
My Tahsildar cousin explained this morning that it is not caste but religion that the city corporation is seeking evidence for before issuing the marriage certificate. This is because later on, this certificate will be used to see which Marriage Act in the constitution can be applied. I presume there are as many marriage acts as there are religions in India.
We managed to find a college transfer ceritificate from Chennai for Tara in which her religion is mentioned as Hindu. This should serve the purpose. I wonder if further evidence will be required. Perhaps a 24-hour video surveillance of Achan to prove that he did not do Namaz on any of the five stipulated Islamic times. May be a Corporation inspector can come around to verify that there are no images of Jesus Christ in our house. Even if there is an image, it must be ensured that it is placed below in the idols and caricatures of the Hindu gods. Will Achan be asked to read out a statement with deep Hindu fervour stating that Muslims and Christians have no hope for salvation?!
And this is a "free" country. Just that one is not free to have no religion. Only the couple that prays together, stays together! Others don't have a prayer!May be that makes sense!I am happy that the government doesn't require citing caste in one's passport. Otherwise the hair removal capacity of the thousands of "Nair" folk landing in US and Europe will be overestimated. I wonder if the presence of the famous hair removal cream brand is the reason why some insist on spelling their surnames as Nayar. I am talking about Malayalees here, not the north-Indian Nayars. Now that I think of it, these are people who have had some family member travel abroad in the previous generation. They must have surely been shocked to see the 'barbar'ic association of their caste on the beauty product aisles of supermarts in 'phorin' lands.
Major laundry disaster awaited me in the bathroom. In an international effort to promote racial harmony, I had soaked the maroon kurta with the white&grey kurta overnight. A little too much exchange of fluids happened overnight. Like Seema after a night with Jayan in the movie Karimbana (sorry for the overly mallu-specific reference, you can insert your favorite 80s actor and actresses and the first night song featuring them instead), the white&grey kurta displayed numerous red blotches when I de-bucketed it for scrubbing.
Blemish on the culturally preserved purity of the bicolor!
The red marks, less like blood stains, more like the ones that lead to extra three or four episodes of weeping and wailing in a tele-serial if the wife spots them on her husband's clothing.
That suspicious coloration!
To be fair, these were too large and too randomly placed to imply amorous possibilities. Unless it was an overheated, abundantly lipsticked female chimpanzee who was responsible. But then again, this is Kerala!
Achan and Amma are engaged in major preparations for Ajith's first home visit. This is mixed with the race to get all the clothes dried in the few hours rain has been staying away. I went with Amma to Spencers grocers in the morning. Only when I reach the check out counter with the easily accessible packets of various brands of condoms, I remember again that I have forgotten to take the camera. It is a picture I so badly want to take. The ultimate symbol of new India: Condoms arranged in the racks where America still sells chewing gum.
Padmapriya, Navya Nair (with her kid) and Karthika Nair (with her overarching eyebrows) were staring at shoppers from plastic wraps in the magazines rack. I wondered how all three of them were featured in Vanitha, the premier women's magazine from the Manorama group. Is the same magazine printed with different covers to appeal to different segments of the population? I wondered. It is quite possible. This is the state that had the same movie with two different endings: one climax had Mammotty marrying the heroine screened in the Muslim dominated north Kerala and the other had Mohanlal marrying the heroine shown in the Hindu majority southern Kerala. Amma brought the magazine and we figures that it was a 3-in-1 Onam special deal. All three cover girls on three books come in one see-thru plastic cover.
The one with Padmapriya on the cover had a great feature with poet laureate O.N.V Kurup's favorite 10 songs from the 1000 odd that he has written for movies. I didn't flip through the two books with the Nair cover girls. But the one with Navya on the cover said she is coming back to movies. Why?!
The beautician-cum-neighbor came to settle her bill this morning. She had done a spectacular job on Tara for the wedding. The official photographers are busy till Onam, so the photos and CD with the proof of her work won't be available till next week. She does a pretty good job on herself too. Her daughter is a fifth semester undergrad but my astrologer uncle, when he first saw her, got all excited thinking she could be a prospective bride whose destiny he can chart.
Once again, like the caterer's bill yesterday, the price of beauty has surprised us. I wonder if we returned to Thiruvananthapuram after living in other cities too well-prepared for exorbitant amount and ruthless extortion.
In one of the intial notes, I had menioned about Venu 'chettan', the headmaster, being nominated for best teacher award. Yesterday evening, cousin Kala 'chechi' called to say that he has won it. This morning's Mathrubhumi newspaper had the news with his photo. Him and 13 other teachers from the other districts will receive the award on Teacher's day on Sept 5th.
It was wonderful to be on the rocking chair post lunch listening to the 10 great songs from ONV's pen.
Achan and Ajith's achan, as dutiful Indian parents, went to the corporation office in the afternoon to finish up the marriage certificate deal. Bell ringing pleases Indian gods. Demi-gods can be invoked by telephonic bell ringing. Few such contacts were manifested and appeased this afternoon to see if any favorable influence could be exerted on the Xanadu of red-tape otherwise known as the city corporation office. Turns out a muncipal council meeting and saturday afternoon spirit had already engulfed the whole office. Nothing can be done before Monday.
But then Menon uncle aka Menon sir aka Ajith's achan (too early for me to finalize how I am going to address him) came by in the evening to enlighten us that my entire earlier rant was a blaze of ignorance. Apparently, different grade workers sitting in the corporation office state different things and put forward different requirements. He said he has confimed that only the date of birth evidence needs to be provided. This information sets the stage for a fantastic argument with my Tahsildar cousin when he shows up next time.
I have been reading R.K.Narayan's "A writer's nightmare: selected essays from 1958-1988" since yesterday. For 30 years, he wrote a weekly column for The Hindu newspaper in the style he calls personal essay! Hopefully some of that grandmaster's genius will rub off! Just as in hospitals, hope tends to run high on a rocking chair when monsoon struts her stuff right outside the window.
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