Utopia

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow
domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the
dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought
and action--
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

-- Rabindranath Tagore

This extract is from the poem Gitanjali which was published in the year 1910. India’s first Nobel Laureate had dreamt that his motherland would be the ideal state once it attains independence from the British. I'm glad he died in 1941 prior to our country's independence for had he lived for another twenty years, he would have died a heart broken man. Far from his dreams, our country is moving in exactly the opposite direction. Most of us have even forgotten the meaning of Utopia and the only time we think of Rabindranath Tagore would be when we sing the National Anthem. Again I wonder as to how many of us know that the said Anthem was penned by this great poet. So much can be said about our patriotism and respect for the dreams of our founding fathers.

I have been a keen follower of politics especially what is practiced in our country. Even while in college, I used to keep track of the political happenings in the national and state levels through the print media. (TV broadcast was yet to come.) It always bothered me that the socialist state envisioned by our first prime minister was in no way close to becoming a reality. Far from an egalitarian society we were moving into a bipartisan society were the rich were getting richer and the poor poorer. Later, our move to Capitalism and open markets only helped to create the largest middle class in the world. The burgeoning consumerism became a heavy burden on the lower middle class and the poor. When I see the opulent life styles of our rich, it puts to shame even those of the Kings. Where else in the world would a city be home to a 27 storey private residence of an industrial family as well as to the world’s largest slum?
As for our politicians, the less said the better. Their only aim in becoming a politician is to fill up their coffers. They totally forget how and why they came to power. Not one of them is accessible to the common man who voted them to power. The other day I happened to read about the Iranian President and his life style. Much as I may not agree with many of the happenings in Iran, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad really stood out as a sincere leader whose sole purpose was only to serve his country.
What made me write this article are the ridiculous headlines that don our newspapers these days. With the fifteenth General elections just a month away, our politicians are all out to woo the electorate. The promises they make would really make one think as to whether we are living in India or in a foreign land. The bounties promised are innumerable. One has to only wish for something and the next moment that is announced by one of the political parties. Just this morning I read in one of the newspapers that the farmers were being promised 12 hours of free electricity. Does this mean that they were given less number of hours of electricity earlier or were not given any electricity? When you read between the lines you will realize that the true beneficiaries of this scheme would be the rich landlords who enroll themselves as farmers to enjoy the government subsidies. The poor farmer still remains poor what with all his holdings in the clutches of the loan sharks!! The plight of the farmers in most parts of India is very pathetic what with the maximum number of debt related suicides happening in their circles. There has been a steep increase in this number in the last couple of years. I wonder if electricity is the answer to these suicides. The politicians are not interested to go to root of any problem nor do they have any intention of solving them. They only want to make these feel good statements which they conveniently forget once the elections are over. They along with the public know for sure that what decides the election is the money power. They make sure that they are loaded with money when they go to the face the electorate. To think that a couple of hundred rupees given to the members of the vote bank is what decides the future of our country is sad as it is appalling.
As a kid when I read this poem, I was truly filled with a sense of patriotism and thought that I would be living in an ideal state. Now Utopia is a mirage we see in the newspapers and the electronic media during election campaigning. So much for the great minds that sacrificed, struggled and gave up their lives so that we could attain Swaraj and live with our heads held high. Wonder when a Messiah will be born!!!

Catalyst

15th of March is an important day in my calendar and today happens to be that date. Two of my very good friends celebrate their birthday today but apart from that it is also the day I came back to India for good after living abroad for 18 years. The year was 1995. When it was decided in November of 1994 that we were returning to India after my husband’s job contract expired, I was perturbed about our future here. Madras is the city of my birth and the only city I know in India; however I had no clue as to how the two of us would spend our time there. Yes it was just the two of us in Saudi, but there we had a whole circle of friends and every few months saw me pack my bags and travel to India, UK or the US. I was sure that once we are back in India, these frequent trips were practically impossible. Anyway with absolutely no clue as to what lay ahead we arrived on a British Airways flight from Boston via London.

Fourteen years have gone by and indeed they have been very eventful. Life has been a potpourri containing events both big and small. There was joy and sorrow, achievements and disappointments and a collage of other emotions and happenings that makes up the fabric of life. However if I have to point out the biggest event of these fourteen years, there is only one and nothing can even come close to it. That is indeed the arrival of my daughter Sridevi into our lives. This event happened on the 27th of September 1997, which I remember so well was a Saturday. The thought of adoption had crossed both our minds on many occasions however we never had the guts to go ahead and at most times felt we were too old to nurture a baby. One day while I was with my friend Latha Mohan, I told her my feelings on the subject of adoption and as to how wonderful it will be to have a baby. It seemed as if Latha was just waiting to hear this from me. She had it all planned and said that we would be starting the rounds of the various agencies from the next day itself. I wasn’t prepared for this instant action. Having been used to a lackadaisical life style, hoping and wishing for a child was wonderful, but for the wish to turn into a reality was a totally different issue. I tried to procrastinate, but Latha would have nothing of that. So the next day both of us set out by car with me driving (I owe this skill also to Latha for it was she who sat by me in the early days and saw me through some of the worst traffic jams) and visited the co-ordinating agency and got the details. She, I think was more disappointed than me when we got to know that the whole process would take as much a period as gestation (40 weeks). Her thinking was that once we had made up our mind we should go about it at the earliest.

The next day saw Latha calling me early in the morning to inform that she had met a friend who in turn knew of someone else who had recently adopted. She had collected all the details and so the very same day the two of us went to the said place. We were asked to furnish some details by the afternoon as that would expedite the procedure. On reaching home, Latha got Mohan to go to the agency with the required documents. A few more trips were made with Latha in the forefront at every point. When I walked into the house with the baby, it was Latha who did the customary Aarthi for my daughter. She is the God mother to my daughter and without me having mentioned a word to Sridevi of all the prior happenings; she seems to have an intuition. She knows that Latha Ammayi is someone special in her life.
I have heard of catalysts in chemical reactions, but Latha played the role of a catalyst in the biggest event of my life. I am a firm believer of destiny and I feel it was destined that a child would come into my life. However I consider the impetus given by my friend as one of the main causes for me to take the plunge. I may not be exaggerating when I say that I owe a part of this motherhood to her. Much as I have thanked her, I always wanted it to be on record and now this blog has provided me with that platform. May she live a hundred years to bring a smile on many more faces.

The Edifice

Little would the group of middle aged Malayali men who started the Sri Ayyappa Bhaktha Sabha have realized what they were getting into? This was way back in mid 60’s when conducting an Ayyappan Vilakku in a locality was the norm. The Tamilians were new to this experience and they looked upon these villakkus with awe and respect. The organizers made sure that there was an elephant to grace the function and the magnificent drummers from Kerala performed the Thayambakka and Panchavadyam and kept the audience in rapt attention. And to end it all there was the Oracle. His special sword and bells along with the long hair and blood oozing from the forehead sent an element of fear among the congregation.The Sabha held the Villakku at the junction of Shenoy Road and Village Road (now Valluvar Kottam High Road) every year in the month of December and it was a two day affair. I think I must have gone for the first Villakku sometime in 1969/1970. We had moved to Nungambakkam in 1966 and our house was very close to the venue. With no television broadcast, this was one of the events that made us feel as if we were in Kerala.

The annual villakku being a great hit; I think the men started to think of having a permanent place. Their call was answered when Lady Madhavan Nair decided to hand them a plot of land in Mahalingapuram. For the next 2-3 years the Villakku was conducted in this plot. Apart from the elephant and above mentioned attractions, a cultural programme was introduced on both the evenings. Gana Gandharvan (K.J. Yesudas) himself would perform and finding a place to stand in the venue was next to impossible.In the meantime the group of men began raising funds to build a temple in the gifted plot.It was excitement for all of us, since a Kerala style temple was coming up in Madras and that too at a walking distance from our house. Every stage of its progress was carefully monitored by the community and finally the grand day or Pratishta Dinam was held on the 25th of March 1974. I was doing my Pre University Course and on that day had my French Public Exam. However I made sure that I went to the temple before going to college for the exam. Thus a temple was born and there has been no looking back.

In a matter of 10-15 years the adjacent plot was purchased and a Guruvayurappan temple came up. Now this complex is known as the Mahalingapuram Ayyappan Guruvayurappan Temple. The plot in front was purchased for the construction of a hall and also to make living quarters for some of the staff. A hospital was set up to cater to the needs of the lower income groups. Another bigger marriage hall was constructed and the Sabha became a force to reckon with. The Mandalam and Makara Villakku season sees the maximum crowd at the temple. I won’t be wrong if I say that the maximum number of pilgrims going to Sabarimala from a particular source would be from this temple. Throughout the year there are cultural programmes where the leading artists from the South perform. The Utsavams for both the deities are conducted for 10 long days. I wonder if even the temples in Kerala follow these routines. As for the daily poojas they are performed in the strictest of traditions. Nothing is missed and this adds to the reputation of the temple. With a revival in peoples’ beliefs irrespective of the religion, there is an increase in the number of faithfuls coming to this temple too.
My role has always been that of a bystander but a very active one at that. I can only think of the temple as being my very own. I take great pride in the fact that I have been with it from its inception to this very day. I go there twice a week on Thursdays and Saturdays and every time I return a less burdened person. I know all the pujaris very well as they have been there for so many years and as for the helpers they are all part of my temple family. An auspicious occasion in our family calls for a visit to the temple and the two Udayasthmana Pujas that we conduct annually are big days in our calendar.

I wonder how many of the first group of Malayali men are still around to see their baby turn into a GLOWING EDIFICE. If I could feel so much for this temple I cannot apprehend as to what their feelings would be!!!

The Hardy Women

Dr. Vipin Gopal may have had his reasons for giving Kerala the tagline “God’s Own Country”. Whatever his reason this tagline has been accepted the world over and has made this tiny state a Superbrand in Tourism. I agree with his tagline but my reason for doing so is something totally different from his. I assume the scenic beauty of Kerala must be the reason behind his christening the state thus. This scenic beauty is something I took for granted having spent the first 20 summers of life there. Now when people look at monuments and places which were to us just the neighbourhood in a different light, it sure makes me happy and proud that I am a daughter of this precious land. The word DAUGHTER is very special, because it is a privilege to be born a Nair girl in this corner of India. Now I come to my reason for calling Kerala God’s Own Country and that is the fact that God took special care of his daughters here by introducing the Matriarchal System (or Marumakka Thaayam in local lingo). Where else in India do people rejoice when a girl is born? The quest elsewhere is always for the male child. Here the family name is passed on to the off springs of the daughters who in turn inherit it from their mothers.

Having been raised outside Kerala, it used to be very difficult for me to explain the initial V which stood for Variyath the name of my mother’s tharavad (family/ancestral home) to my friends in school and college. They would automatically assume V stood for my father’s name which according to them could either be Venugopal or Vasudevan. Had I been born a century ago, I would, like my ancestors have lived my whole life in the tharavad itself, as marriage would not have taken me or for that matter my mother away from it. Instead the husband would have come and spent time in the wife’s tharavad. Much has changed from the olden days and the nuclear family has found its place among the Nairs too. However I must say that the psyche of most of the ladies remains the same. The freedom they enjoyed for so many centuries and the dominance and money power that came along with it is not very easy to erase from the mind of even the present day generations. The feeling of sisterhood among all the ladies of the tharavad was something very hard to fathom and there is no word I can use to describe this camaraderie. Although the tharavads have disintegrated, the bonding between the female members continues to be very strong.

The Variyath Tharavad of which I am a proud member is situated in Calicut, Kerala. The back bone of our side/part or line of the family are the families of my great grandmother and her six sisters. These seven ladies constituted a unit and all their children, grand children and great grand children are my great aunts, aunts, cousins and nieces and nephews. I remember my trips to Kerala when my great grand mother was alive. During the day most of her sisters and nieces would come to see her as she was the oldest lady of the tharavad. (By then the nuclear family concept had set in.) She was immensely respected and consulted on all important matters. Once she and her sisters passed away, the mantle fell on my grand mother who was a great lady. She lived to be 94 and led a very fruitful life. She was a teacher in one of the leading schools in Calicut of yore and hence well known in the society. She became financially independent at the age of twenty, something we cannot even dream off attaining at this day and age!! I have never seen my grandmother sad or depressed and she was always a source of strength. Her knowledge on all worldly matters far surpassed people even half her age. Her death in 2000 was a great loss to all of us.

Now the senior most lady of our tharavad is my mother’s cousin who is 90 and going strong. Her mental strength is amazing and she is a source of inspiration to anyone who has an opportunity to meet her. She is not tethered by petty talk typical of women her age and even now she looks forward and plans for forthcoming events. She is well traveled having been the wife of an army officer and this reflects in her thinking. A special mention has to made of my aunt who is a Gynecologist. The best way to describe her would be by calling her a ONE MAN ARMY. She is 65+ but does the work of at least two thirty year old men. I really wonder as to how she can keep her cool and go the way she does.
Most of the women of our tharavad have not crossed the borders of Kerala or shall I say South India, however they are so forward in their thinking and are capable of doing anything that a person of the opposite sex can do. The so called college education has eluded the older generation, but I feel they will give an MBA a run for his/her money. These women are not only great planners but also very good at executing the same. The word lazy finds no place in their scheme of things. I am sure these ladies would have enjoyed being matriarchs and would have played their roles to the hilt.


I enjoy being in the company of the Variyath ladies and on each trip to Kerala I make sure that I get to see most of them. My only source of regret is that this great system is slowly vanishing from the face of Kerala. I wonder if our children will ever get a taste of this great equalizing system. It may sound like a myth to them when these stories are related after 20 years. The next time you see a Nair lady, I’m sure you will look at her with a different light and you will see in her that grit and determination along with the dignity and stoicism. Let us all together say JAI HO to this fast dwindling tribe and pray that they never go EXTINCT.
Long live THE HARDY WOMEN.

Sari Snob

I may have been called names by different people. Well, who has escaped from that? However the last name I thought I would ever be called was a snob. Whichever way I look at it I don’t consider myself a snob and suddenly out of the blue my own niece who is the apple of my eye calls me a snob and she specifies it by calling me a sari snob. The dictionary gives the meaning of a snob as “a person who believes himself or herself an expert or connoisseur in a given field and is condescending toward or disdainful of those who hold other opinions or have different tastes regarding this field”. As far as I know I don’t think I fit this bill. My association with the sari has been very lowly for I have never walked into a high end boutique or purchased anything from Sabyasachi, Ritu Kumar, Satya Paul or their likes. Nevertheless I felt there must be some truth in my niece's comment for she never talks off the cuff and so I decided to go through my sari history.

My tryst with the sari began when I was around 15 years of age. I grew up wearing clothes typical of a South Indian girl of the 60’s early 70’s. I graduated from frock to half skirt to full skirt with a short stint in half sari and then finally THE SARI. My first official outing in a sari was for a wedding reception in Calicut. I wore my aunt’s pink Banares Sari and fitted perfectly well into her blouse. By the time I was in my final year at school, I had become an expert in wearing a sari. All the four years in college was just sari for me. Initially the saris were all hand me downs of which I had no choice. The fashion those days for girls and young ladies was to wear the Japanese made synthetic saris, of which there was nothing to choose as it was usually thrust upon by some relative/friend returning from the Far East. I think the first time I really got to choose a sari was for my wedding. In the 70’s, the Malayali wedding had not turned Big and Fat and so my sari was a simple Green Benaras sari which cost around Rs. 600/-. I also got to buy a couple of other saris for the occasion.

It was after my marriage that I got to buy saris. Having immediately gone to the Middle East, the place was flooded with the Japanese varieties and every year saw me buying 20-30 saris most of which I gave away when I came to India. It was during the short breaks in India that I would buy some printed silks and crepes to take back to wear at some social functions. My need for the Kanchipuram was minimal and thank God the so called designer sari had not yet arrived. I realized that my saris were being appreciated by my friends when I wore them in Saudi and many a time when I traveled to India, I was given a shopping list to take back. This being my life style till 1995, I wonder when I picked the tag my niece has bestowed me with.

My return to India seems to have coincided with the period when the consumer was the king. New shops began to come up serving all kinds of merchandise and this included a variety of sari show rooms too. I did my rounds and zeroed in on 3-4 shops to which I go when I want to buy a sari. (I like to be on my own when I buy my saris). My mantra for buying a sari is that it should be something I like. I never look at what is in fashion be it the colour or the design. I have a fixed notion that only few colours suit me and hence I land up buying only those colours. It is when I go with my sisters that I concede and get myself a bright sari, which at most times is a gift from them. The maximum I have spent on a sari is Rs. 4000/-. (The other day I came across a picture of a model wearing a heeled slipper costing Rs.5000/- and this was mentioned as being cheap!!! My eyes literally popped out. May be I am really not in sync with the present day happenings). The two expensive saris in my cupboard cost Rs. 7000/- each and both are gifts which I got to choose. I have never ever bought the so called designer sari what with their bright colours and all the dazzling work. I would run a mile if I were to be presented with one of those. It is not because I am a snob, but because I feel those flashy colours will not suit me and also because I don’t want to go around like a jewelled Christmas tree. My idea in life is to blend with the background. I would like to be recognized for what I am and not by the clothes I wear.

Since I have been buying almost the same colours and designs over the years with a few changes now and then, you could almost say that my saris have a vintage appearance. One can never mark the year in which a particular sari was bought. The goodness about this is that people have accepted my saris just like how they have accepted me. I can walk in anywhere and be comfortable in my beiges, creams, mustards and other earthy shades. I have set myself a trend which is more out of convenience than fashion and if this is what makes me a SARI SNOB, I am indeed proud to be one.

Thank You Preetha.

Creator in a Quandary

Almost a year ago I read the headlines of weekly column which said; today’s sixties are the forties of yore. I immediately rubbished it. Thought to myself, “what wont these society ladies say”? Justification for their wardrobes and attitude!!!! More so in this case as the writer was someone whose opinion I did not value. However for sometime now the headline kept coming back to me and I started giving it a serious thought and tried to equate it with my life.

I have almost a decade to go before I reach the respected 60, but however I did some calculations and came to this conclusion, if the modern day 60 is the 40 of the past, then today’s forties must be the twenties of yore. With this in mind I started recollecting all the major happenings in my life in the last decade and here is what I came up with. It really surprised me as it would any of you.

Life in the Middle East (read Saudi Arabia) forfeits one of many simple pleasures which we take for granted in other parts of the world. The simple joy of driving around with friends or visiting a movie hall or enjoying a coffee in a bar had eluded me in my 20’s and 30’s and this I wanted to make up when I got back to India in March of 1995. I know there is nothing new in all this as most of my friends end up doing just that on their return. Frankly speaking I do not know how to ride a simple, humble bicycle and with absolutely no road sense, I decided that I should be behind a wheel and zoom around. Apart from a professional instructor to put me on the right track, I had various members of the family sitting with me while I practiced driving. It goes without saying how everybody had their say and I was always at the receiving end. I was not perturbed and within a few months was a safe bet on the road. This is indeed a skill I am proud to have mastered.
When I thought the remaining years of my life would be with friends and family socializing and catching up on missed years, something really unbelievable happened. I call it the hands of destiny for into my life came my little daughter. She was all of 5 months when I got her and here I was 40 years and 5 months. It was truly a challenging proposition to bring up a baby. I decided not to waste anytime and got into the nitty gritty right from day one. I really didn’t know what I was in for. My passive life style took a U turn. My books, movies and everything else had to take a back seat. Initially my life revolved around changing diapers, waiting in the countless doctors consulting rooms and trying to catch up on missed sleep whenever possible. Later it graduated to standing in queue for school admission, going to the park, buying toys and clothes, attending birthday parties etc etc. Although I was a total misfit with all the young moms who had so much in common to talk to, I enjoyed being with them. These simple joys of another kind had eluded me. It really made me feel young at heart.
Having turned 40, I thought it was time I gave back something to the society and hence decided to join an Inner Wheel Club. This was also possible because of the sound support system I had at home in the form of the one and only NARAYANI. (Had I known about the modern day equation then, I would have waited for a decade before taking this plunge.) It did not take me long to become an active member and soon was involved in all the happenings of the club. This included taking part in various cultural programmes as well. I took part in many dance programmes and was also the master of ceremonies for many of the events at the club. As for the former I have had 8 years of training and as for the latter, it was a new talent that I discovered.
Feeling rejuvenated with all these happenings, I felt I could put my physical fitness to test. Without knowing what it meant, I took a vow to climb the Thirumala Hills. I’m happy to say that I accomplished this mission with ease and could keep pace with the scores of youngsters who were my co climbers.
When I analysed the above events and ones similar to them, I came to the conclusion that my forties were truly like the twenties of yore. I fervently wish that when I touch eighty, I should feel like a sprightly sixty year old. I summed up with a theory that if a non entity like me could just remove twenty years of her life without any trace, then the same must hold true for most inhabitants on planet earth. It is fine as far as the humans go, however, it does leave the CREATOR IN A QUANDARY.

PS.I have made it a point to read all the columns written by the said author. Who knows as to what other doors she may open!!!

An Involuntary Inheritance

My mother was blessed with three biological daughters and a long list of boys and girls for whom she was a mother at some point of their lives. To her they were not her wards by any standard but her very own. I have heard her say as to how she used to care for one of her cousin’s who was deprived of hearing and speech and how this person accompanied her when she went to live as a newly married bride with my father. The person was just 4-5 years younger than her. Again I have heard people older than her by more than a decade call her “Chechi” out of sheer love and admiration. I think she has made an impact on anyone with whom she had an interaction. She was a selfless woman always willing to give.

While we were growing up she was a mother figure to all our close friends. While we were still kids, we had a family friend’s son stay with us for 6 months to learn French. He became the elder brother we never had. Once her 3 girls grew up, she took it on herself to look after her nephew (Raju) right through his school and college education. From a puny little boy of five she nurtured him into a young man of twenty. Raju’s arrival and my leaving the family coincided. (This made me feel that I was never missed). Each time I came on vacation, I would meet new characters of whom she would have earlier mentioned in her letters. There have been vacations when not even once it would be just our family at the dining table. She would cater to the likes of each of her wards and would make them feel so wanted. If it was AVIAL for Sarah, it was Boost for Roy. If it was banana fried in ghee for Raghu, then it was idly and sambhar for Anjali and so the list went on. In between we have had the likes of Cuckoo, Mohan, Arun, Krishna Das, Pramod, Rajeev and many others flitting in and out. Apart from whetting their appetites, she would also be totally involved in all their problems and would try to help them out in whichever way possible. Class and status were absolutely of no importance to her. There was this boy who came in as a newspaper boy who my mother got to know had failed in his SSLC courtesy mathematics. My mother took it upon herself to teach him mathematics and help him clear his exam. Next she put him on to a right contact and saw to it that he started life on a good note. I am happy to say that he is a well known person in our community. (If I were to write of all the people who have been her beneficiaries, this would turn into a book. That gives me an idea, may be I will venture writing one!!!)

So many have benefited from her generosity and have come up well. Having said that I must also say that none of it would have been possible but for the silent support provided by my father. I think we children did not expect her to spend time only on us and took it in our stride that our world was full of people. What amazed me was how she made do with the limited resources that she had. Her idea in life I suppose was to spread it evenly so that it would cover the maximum area. The word EVEN played an important role in her life. She was never partial and treated everyone equally. I feel she would have felt embarrassed if some one had pointed out that she was siding up with one person against the other. I am so proud that I am the daughter of this wonderful person.

It is four years since my mother’s demise and it is not new for us to hear people sing her paeans. She must have touched them in her own marvelous ways what with her kindness and just attitude. However there is this little secret that I have been toying with. I am absolutely sure she was partial to me. By this I don’t mean that she showered me with more affection or left behind all her material possession. It is her knowledge that she has let me inherit. Most of you may not be aware that she was a wizard when it came to Mathematics and had done her BA Honors in pure Mathematics. Numbers and figures came automatically to her and she was in her elements when she imparted this knowledge to anyone willing to listen. Had she been in control of distribution, she would have spread this too evenly. However God had other plans and this I claim as my INVOLUNTARY INHERITANCE. Any challengers!!!!!