September 5, 2011
While walking back from Spencers grocers yesterday, I noticed that Onam decorations have started to find their places on the road. Outside Yaathrika travel agency, there stood two 12-15 feet tall wooden bulls supporting a yoke that carried a Nettipattam. A nettipatam has nothing to do with a neti pot. Nettipattam is the golden/brass ornament that covers from the forehead the trunk of elephants dressed in ceremonial splendour. Its surface is covered with the metal hemispheres. Link at the bottom of the note shows a nettipattam. Whoever had made these wooden bulls insisted on being as anatomical faithful as possible. So though they had fantastically shaped antlers rather than bullish horns, a pair of pappaya sized testicles hung from them. I was reminded of the movie Jamun Jamun.
Numerous Ganesh idols have been installed on the street-sides by the Shiva Sena and RSS parties as part of the annual Bal Gangadhar Tilak festival. Special care has been taken to make sure that these idols display their full glory right outside hotels run by Muslims and Christian run business establishments. Looks like 'modak' is no longer Ganesh's favorite dish. He seems to have acquired a taste for halal mutton biriyani from most of his locations in the city. He must have secretly memo-ed about it to these few-days-a-year ardent devotees whose devotion works only on the top of sewer covering concrete slabs and footpaths on the road.
Yesterday's dinner was marked by much overeating in an effort to reduce the amount of food that will be thrown out. Major gaseous consequence in the tummy this morning.
I woke up in an unbendable state. I am talking about my abs.
Amma prescribed and provided clove infused hot water. I self medicated with my tried and tested fenugreek with yogurt remedy. The fast action of fenugreek was important because Kala chechi called in the morning to say that she will come by with some mutton curry. She is a brilliant cook. Stomach had to be ready by lunch time for the curry.
Both the father of the bride and the father of the groom have been fretting a lot about the marriage certificate. Plenty of xeroxing and attesting and signing and sealing happened in the last couple of days. Since endless queues of service seeking citizens were expected from early morning, Achan decided to go take a token by 9am itself. I accompanied Amma to RBI office so that she could get the round seal of approval. I carried this powerful, magical device to the corporation office.
On my way, I saw many corporation workers carrying what appeared like big bunches of small fruits: blue, green, yellow, red. But this was no Onakazhcha: the traditional gift of farm products tennants would bring their feudal lords. These were small decorative bulbs commonly known here are illumination bulbs. Other workers were either standing on tall ladders or hanging from the trees that flank the city main road. The illumination of the main road and public buildings will begin from tomorrow. Rajavedhi or the royal road that extends from the Kowdiar Palace to the Sri Padmanabhaswamy temple is decorated with lights every year for Onam celebrations. Tomorrow onwards no vehicle traffic is permitted on this road from night fall for 4-5 hours. Only pedestrians and street vendors are allowed. The citizens can leisurely walk on this 7 kilometer stretch enjoying the lights, music, dance shows and shopping.
The corporation office was nothing like the abyss of red tape it was made out to be. It looked like a larger version of the College Station social security office but with less glass windows. There were 4 human beings and 3 houseflies in the air-conditioned counter area. Electronic display for token numbers. Huge board at the entrance says the office is open from 8am to 7pm. It is just that the people assume it is a lazy, crowded office that opens at 10am.
Prejudice runs deep.
Even with people who change continously we hang onto our few deeply rooted impressions about them and let those impressions define our whole relationship. The corporation officer was friendly and jovial. Since interminable waiting time was expected, Ajith and Tara were asked to come much later by Achan. Now they were summoned immediately. While waiting for them, the officer asked if it would be ok for him to go have a cup of tea. As soon as the couple arrived, he gave them papers to sign. Tara had a post-marriage photograph in the application. He said it didn't matter but they would prefer something without the 'marriage-signifying' saffron on her forehead. Everything was done in a couple of minutes. All that worry and panicking for nothing! It was truly an office for the service of the people by the people, not a monarch's charitable instincts as all the discussions in the previous days had made it out to be.
While coming back from Rema aunty's house this morning, Amma notices a small snake slithering by the side of the compound wall as snakes tend to do.
Instead of "Pambeeee" (snakeeee), she shouts "Unniyeee" (my nameeeeee).
Instead of a stick, she asks me to bring a camera.
Soon a handful of prominent characters in the neighborhood gather in the car porch (door-less garage) of the uninhabited house in the neighborhood. It is 10 am.
The snake has gone under Ajith's car that was parked there.
It had difficulty sliding on the smoother garage floor.
Ajith and Tara swear that they have no intention of carrying a hidden snake in the car for their honeymoon. If it hisses in the car while they are on their way, high chance that they would mistake it for a romantic gesture from the other person. "sshhh....shhh" whisper of sweet nothings!
Ajith takes the car out of the garage.
We assume it would run over the snake hiding under the tire.
The snake was to be crushed like the traditional lemon that devout Hindus crush to auspiciously drive out their new cars. (I have a story about that. I will get to later)
Car was out.
No sign of the snake. No auspicious lemoning.
Then Omana's son, Achu, notices it under the watchman's chair. We have half a mind to leave it there so that the watchman will have something to stay alert tonight. But then trying to hitch a ride with the honeymooning couple is unforgivable. More immediately, importantly and unforgiveably, the slithereen has made attempts to enter the uninhabited, locked house. No Mercy.
It had to be executed.
"Thingalazhchayayittu kollanda," (We shouldn't kill it on a Monday) Omana contributes some Indian "wisdom"! As if Tuesdays-Sundays were traditionally approved days for snake murdering! Have the ancient Hindu epics approved Monday holiday for the Sarpa-yajnas (snake-killing rituals)?
Achu brings a dried de-leafed coconut frond.
His attempt to hit the snake is way off the target. The dried frond cracks into two.
The mis-hit makes the snake more aggressive. The little hood raised, it hisses.
Everyone jumps one step back.
Omana, carrying Gowri's baby, steps on Tara's toe.
Achan grabs the frond from Achu and goes smack.
He aims for the head but in panic misses and hits it in the middle eviscerating it. All his frustration at the imaginary foes in the city corporation office raises the potential energy of the frond. The loss of potential energy of the frond as it comes crashing down gets converted into loss of kinetic energy of the snake. Nothing conservative.
With a gash in its stomach, the little serpent struggles. Hisses. Opens mouth wide. Gasps for air. Bites imaginary foes.
The injured state of the snake emboldens the young Achu. He proceeds to beat the hell out of it like A&M did out of SMU (final game score 46-14). He turns it over.
"Paambu thanne...Paambu thanne...adiyil kanda" (Snake sure snake sure...look at the underside) Omana confirms that it is not a nonpoisonous rat-snake (which is called Chera).
Only the occassional flinching of the tail remains when Achu pushes it onto the spade I was holding.
As my astologer uncle would say, only "Dhanajaya vayu" (final breath of air) remained in its slender body.
Unceremonial burying. Neither crosses nor coconut trees were planted to mark the spot.
As if to make up for the 32 day delay in their appearance for me, a rat snake (Chera) immediately showed up after this poisonous snake. This was a well fed, 5 ft long crawler. "Rat snakes are all male, poisonous snakes are female" more Indian "wisdom" from Appi-amma, Rema aunty's part time cook.
It coiled tightly behind a flowerpot. May be it was cringing on hearing such stupidity.
Mention of well-fed and servants calls forth a brief recap of a discussion I recently had. Kerala's feudal history is seeped in stories of the landlords sexually abusing, having affairs with and impregnating servants.
There is very little doubt that getting servants to do most of the housework is the main reason for obesity among the middle class and wealthier housewives. Machines for cooking, washing and vaccuuming also contribute. Of course, these mechanical conveniences are most welcome and make life easier. The increase in the body mass of majority of women is a side effect that a little carefulness can control.
The servant-maids stay svelte, energetic and healthy. Almost every maid I have seen here can give the gym-going, health conscious American chicas a run for their money....may be not a run, but definitely a jog. It should come as no surprise that the feudal lords in history preferred these bodies in perpetual motion to their stay-at-home, stay-in-bed, Titian-sque wives. Nudging the clappers of the temple bells was the maximum work their wifely hands could be expected to do.
Raju chettan called in the afternoon to say that the local edition of Indian express has published an article on Venu chettan (his bro-in-law) on winning the best teacher award. We read it online. After that Achan made tea. The rest of the family was sleeping. Achan and I sat on the verandah drinking tea and sharing stories and jokes. Owing to a 30 year advantage on me, he has more stories and jokes. Somehow the discussion turned to my grandmother and other grandmothers we know. Achan said that grandmother had kept a set of clothes ready to be put on her dead body. Along with those clothes were the clothes of a daughter she had lost 50 years ago.
My paternal uncle's mother-in-law had stayed with their family in her last days. Whole day she would sit at the edge of a long bench kept in the porch. On the wall of the porch was a mirror that would capture her reflection. The poor woman thought what she saw on the mirror was a neighbor's house. One day she fretted, "There is an old lady in that house who does nothing but sit on a bench all day. What kind of people are these?!"
If we were told our life story as if it was someone else's perhaps we would also be harsh critics!
At the Central Bank of India branch office at Rishimangalam, hangs a big public service announcement near the cash counter asking everyone to bring "an accomplice" while withdrawing large amounts of cash. From the Hindi and Malayalam translations that appear with this English debacle, it is clear that they meant friend instead of accomplice. Or may be it is a deeply philosophical pointer that amassing and using large amount of cash is indeed a criminal act! Apparently the Central Bank hangs this notice in every branch of its bank.
Went for a short walk in the evening.
The bells of the Devi temple were trying to drown the melodies of Vayalar-Devarajan team that are played every night at the Devarajan bust near by.
Lot of young men, mostly the IT crowd and college students, stand on the footpath enjoying hot dosas and hotter conversations.
A bunch of old men walking were discussing how far Onam has crept up into Tamil Nadu. One was sure, it has gone till Tirunelveli. Another one, like Duryodhana in the epic, was unwilling to give one inch beyond Nagarkovil.
An ATM floor littered with crumbled tiny receipt papers. Discarded evidence of succumbing to instincts: shopping and others.
Walked to Jawahar Bal Bhavan complex which was having a Gujarati handicrafts and handprinted fabrics show.
I had been a regular student at the Bal Bhavan in 1988-1991 during summer vacations to learn "Spoken English" and then "Basic Computers". The 'Spoken English' teacher was an Anglo-Indian lady. I remember there was life-size sculpture of a crocodile in the class room. The computer teacher was a twenty something girl. The Gujarati craftsmen were displaying their work in the non-crocodile building's second floor. I asked for size 40 half kurtas at the stall at the far end of the hall. The salesman showed me couple of kurtas of size 40. Then he showed be size 42. I asked him what would fit me. "44", he said and asked me to turn around so that he could show the fit on my shoulders.
"Jabbi log apne marzi ke size leke jathe hai tho doosre din exchange karne aathe hai. Jabbi hum select karke detha hai, kabhi vapas nahi aathe" (When people pick their own size, they come back next day for exchange. When I select the size for them, they never come back). I guess all men underestimate their size when it comes to the upper body.
I picked two short kurtas of size 44. The aunty standing in front of me in the billing queue gave me suspicious glances. As far as I could see, she had no pockets that I could pick and I had ensured 'American-standard' personal space between us. Perhaps the distance bothered her!
The kurtas fit perfectly. The fact that they cost less than 12 dollars adds to their fitness. They just need one round of reinforcement stitches from the tailor.
Happy Labor Day to everyone in the USA.
