December 29, 2011
A cyclone is approaching the coast of Tamil Nadu. Across the Western Ghats, it meant a mild, pleasant day. Keeping the morning chills and my phlegm situation in mind, I decided to get a haircut.
As we ventured outside the house, Achan noticed that the shrubbery and herbery and weedery that displayed survival skills in patches along the street, have disappeared. This reminded me of a momentary Texas flashback that I had yesterday morning.
Let me recap.
While I was seated in the verandah reading the Mathrubhumi magazine, I experienced the unavoidable Doppler effect of some whirring machine. At first, I assumed that some wood work was continuing at the neighbors. But as it came nearer, it grew more familiar.
The unmistakable grunt of a lawn boundary and weed trimmer that was a fortnightly echo back in the US!
I wouldn't have cared much for this coincidence but there soon appeared the operator of the machine outside the gate.
Dressed in fluorescent orange lined vest, hard hat and safety goggles, he looked every bit an illegal Mexican immigrant who had tunneled, by mistake, to the other end of the planet!
The city corporation still hasn't managed to find a solution to the piling, stinking garbage problem but they sure make their street weed exterminators dress Western.
I am sure several foreign "study tours" by multiple delegations had to be expended by the corporation to come up with the costume and equipment for these workers!
We took an autorickshaw to the barber's. As we turned towards the AKG center from the Kerala University office circle, a cacophony of horns.
Loud. Urgent. Incessant. Maniacal.
The rickshaw slowed down to the left lane as did all the other vehicles.
A pilot jeep.
A car with number plate 'Kerala State 1'.
An escort car plated 'Escort-CM'.
Another jeep.
This horny set blazed passed us.
"He must be hurrying to write more love letters," said our rickshaw driver.
'He' referred to Chief Minister Oommen Chandy. The 'love letter' sarcasm was about Chandy's multiple letters about Mullaperiyar dam issue that have been spurned by the silence of Tamil Nadu's Jayalalitha.
In the next half kilometer, before we alighted, it was clear that there was no love lost between the driver and the ruling Congress party in the state.
He was one of those common ardent Communist/Marxist party supporters who found nothing contradictory about the Ganesha sticker, blessing his windshield, being served with a newly lit fragrant joss sticks or about wearing a thick line of sacred ash on his forehead.
These folks form the grass roots of the party here. They don't care about the philosophies of Marx or Engels. Their communism begins with the admiration for Achuthanandan or Pinarayi Vijayan and ends with dislike for Oommen Chandy.
Achan had to stop by at the bank. As he was banking inside, I strolled the concreted front parking space of the building. Losing my balance to avoid stepping on a freshly expelled deposit of sputum from some recent client, I grab a nearby parked motorbike.
A thick, squirming ring of tiny ants were stampeding around this blot of spit with hundreds more rushing towards it in multiple lines from different directions.
Organized chaos of greed! Stock market trading floors! Pilgrimage centers!
We walked from the bank to the barber shop. Always, while on this road, Achan remembers two deaths. One is his own mother, my grandmother, who passed away at Govindan's Hospital on this road. Second is his friend from university, Simon, who had the roll number right before Surendran. He died in a bike accident soon after graduating.
Today, I noticed that the barbershop (the area under the staircase of a building) has been christened 'Hair Stylist' with the poster of a young Mick Jagger depicted with even more ambivalent sexuality. A customer had already occupied single chair, so we browsed through the magazines.
I took up Kalakaumudi which I had been wanting to check out. The reunion didn't last very long. The once eminent weekly has collapsed into a party propaganda machine. Pity!
Browsing through Cinema Mangalam, I find a short interview with the accomplished and hugely talented cinematographer,Madhu Ambat. This year he won his third National Award for 'Adaminte Makan Abu'. He had joined the Pune film institute despite ranking 26th in the IIT-JEE. Good choice in life.
Madhyamam weekly turned out to be surprise package. I wasn't familiar with this magazine that wikipedia says is a publication from Jamat-i-Islami organization. Madhyam's website gives a very different history. So much for wikipedia!
P.K. Ramanunni, mentioned in yesterday's note, was the first editor of the magazine. Pretty good quality articles. Rs. 10.
I was half-way through an article on the Tehri dam when it was my hair's turn. I hope to rediscover online some time and finish it.
The barber has grown plumper than the last time. His cell phone ring tone is a Koel's birdsong. I liked it. When electric trimmers are used around the ears and the back of the neck, I always get goose-bumps!
After the haircut, we revisited the book fair. Before the book stalls, there is a special exhibit of books on and by Sri Narayana Guru, with some rare photographs, housed in a hall of the Sanskrit manuscript library. A nice rendition of some his poetry was playing in the hall. It was soon drowned by Akon's Chamak Chalo blaring from the gigantic speakers installed at the seminar tent.
Distinct stench of uncleared garbage near the eatery stalls. Still no dearth of hungry souls tucking into tapioca and fish curry. Swami Vivekananda once said that when a man walks, his stomach comes first, only then his head, so unless we can fill his stomach, there is little chance of influencing his head. I guess that justifies the eateries positioned before the book stalls.
Decorative thermocol bats hung from the trees. Entertainment for children. The only bats they get to see these days are on the cricket field.
Primarily, we wanted to check if the stalls that had promised to get us copies of C.V. Raman Pillai's 'Marthanda Varma' kept their word. Since they were in the book business, they did! Since school vacation is in full swing, the fair was rather crowded at the late morning hour. Yellow plastic ropes, absent during our last visit, were now dividing the walkway.
An impatient husband hurrying through a ritual visit to the fair pulling his wife and daughter along. Several pairs of college girl friends more interested in the buyers than the bought.
An white-haired grey-bearded old man in a shabby white mundu and sleeves rolled up shirt with top buttons open. Vermillion and white proofs of temple visits streaking across his forehead, horizontally and vertically. He carries a worn out cloth bag. Nearly identical cloth bag on the shoulder of a couple of decades younger man accompanying him. This sports a Bulgan and long black hair. Spectacles, cotton kurta and khaki pants complete his intellectual avatar.
At the Kerala Sahitya Academy stall, he returns a book to the shelf after browsing, turns to his older friend and gleefully declares, "ithokke free aayittu online vayikkam" (we can read all this free online).
I used to suffer from that delusion too.
We picked up Marthanda Varma from NBS stall. Achan has been looking for a Malayalam Quran.The one available was in two volumes at a prohibitive price of Rs 1200.
By the time we finished the round of all the stalls, 5 more books were coming back home.
More about them tomorrow!
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