September 6, 2011
Day before yesterday happened to be the house warming cermony of a new neighbor, three houses up on our street. Thomas uncle used to live there and when I was in school, we used to play badminton with their gate serving as the net. Now, Anil uncle has partly demolished that house and built-up a big one. Since we had the 'coming home' ceremony happening, we couldn't attend the house warming lunch. Achan and I decided to visit the house in the evening.
House warming is a big deal around here. It is the other great Indian 'aptitude' test that must be passed besides the test of marrying off one's daughter. The marriage thing happens quickly with may be a month going into preparation. The house building that culminates house warming lasts for several months, may be up to a year and it drains away several years from the life time of whoever attempts it. It took my parents 15 years or so to recover from their 'home building' adventure before they could start the preparing for the daughter's marriage exam. In Malayalam, house warming is called "Paalukachal" which means boiling the milk which is precisely what is done as the core ceremony. You let some milk boil over in the new house and you've accomplished the warming.
House warming consists of lots of other religious rituals as well as is the characteristic of any event in India. We're the nation that broke ceremonial government-sponsored coconuts before launching our indigenous hi-tech aircraft carrier.
Before we could visit this new home, we needed to get a gift. So off we went to 'Narmada', an old shopping complex, which was the only one expected to be open on that Sunday. It so happens that Anil uncle runs a plumbing and sanitaryware shop in the same complex, so when we walked into the gift shop and said we were looking for a house warming gift, the dark, cylindrical but pleasing saleswoman with a severe body odour problem asked us if it was for "Anil sir".
Thiruvananthapuram is a city (or glorified village) with never more than four degrees of separation between any two people!
After we picked out a small indoor waterfountain (in the process spilling some water onto some plush toys in the lower rack), I spotted that they had a name's sake 'books section'. But among the handful of books lying helter skelter there was Anakyondoru Kathaparayan (Elephant has a story to tell). It is a book based on the popular TV show called E 4 Elephant which features one domestic elephant a day. It has had nearly 200 episodes since 2005. The producer of the show, Srikumar Arookutti, has authored the book. He is a good writer known mostly for the penning the story for the award winning movie, "Deshadanam". With this book, I can enjoy the profile of one elephant a day. So much better than the profiles on Keralamatrimony.com.
Anil uncle's house is far from finished. He said he wanted to get the house warming done on an auspicious month. Initially he had kept it for August 31. Then Achan told him that it was Tara's wedding date. While we were enjoying the evening vada, bonda, mysore pak and semia payasam at his freshly warmed home, he said, "For a house warming, only two sets of folks are important: family and neighbors. Since it was Tara's wedding, I was sure that all the neighbors would go to participate in that. So I postponed my house warming." I liked the very gentle gradient of the stairways they have in the new home. When I mentioned this, his wife said, "some people here have already developed arthritis problems," throwing a glance at Anil uncle. I think this family will be a great addition to our neighborhood.
We went to the government treasury at the old secretariat building complex. Luckily, there were no demonstrations blocking the road today. Achan and Amma had transferred some accounts and deposits into checking so that they could be used if need be for Tara's wedding. Now they are busy putting them back into savings accounts. The interest rates for seniors citizens are very generous 9.5%-11% depending on the financial institution.
The treasury building sits in the shade a mammoth Banyan tree. Just walking near this majestic tree with its ancient twisting complex system of roots, is enlightening. Buddha had to be sitting under a tree.
After four years, finally met face to face a facebook friend. They are having house warming of their new apartment tomorrow before flying back to the gulf the day after.
The apartment on the 8th floor provides stunning views of the city. An ocean of green coconut fronds interspersed with mango and banyan trees. From one balony the far away, vegetation-covered hills can be seen. From the bedroom's balcony, at the horizon, the faint line of the ocean. High rise buildings here and there like white spots of fungal infection on the otherwise thick carpet of greenery.
From this height, one can see the monsoon approach from where the sky ends, where lightnings strike silently.
Illiterate north Indian construction workers meant that there were no graffiti on the walls of the new building where they would normally be expected. At one point, it looked like the elevator was not working. The watchman was rather proud in saying that it might be so because "so many people were calling it." The elevator is assigned the same reason politicians give for not doing their job.
While driving back from the apartment, his wife started speaking on the phone in a language I did not know. "She is speaking Kutchy," he saw my confusion. "But she said she was from Alapuzha." "Her forefathers came over from Gujarat for trading and then settled here. We're pretty lowly people in their eyes, so I had quite a bit of opposition to deal with before our marriage". I had no knowledge of this adventurous love story. He briefly outlined it for me. Inspiring: for scripts and for life!
After briefly cleaning up the apartment and arranging furniture for tomorrow's ceremony, we went to eat at Supreme Bakers and at his favorite hang out in town, Duetto, the gelato place. Beef puffs from the bakers were delicious. Duetto has an interior that reminds one of American coffee shops. Plush leather sofas, low lighting and free wi-fi. We tried five different flavors: mango, chikku, meringue, chocolate and chocolate nut.
"This mango tastes like the hair of mangoes,'" the little lady said. It was true. It did taste like we were pulling at the fibres of ripe mango. Chikku flavor was very truthful to the original fruit. "This place is so much better than your stinky fish place," she remarked. The stinky fish place she referred to is Mubarak, the extremely popular fish eatery in town where Malayalees of the her father's generation flock to.
"You don't know what you are missing," said the father and then turned to me to continue, "I got the first shock of generation gap when I heard a kid in Thiruvananthapuram zoo remark that the mango fruit he was eating somehow tasted like the Fruity drink he was familiar with." I remembered how few years back, in College Station, I had introduced Sally to the fig fruit and she was surprised that it tasted a lot like Fig Newton bars!
A big thank you to Mark Zuckerberg for introducing me to such friends and their families. I look forward to meeting more of my exclusively facebook friends face to face soon.
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