TRIBUTES -4

[Dear new reader, this is a sequel to Tributes, Tributes 2 and Tributes 3. For a proper understanding of the plot, it is suggested to read in the same order. This is a work of fiction and all incidents and characters are products of imagination.]

…zooks,sir,flesh and blood

That’s all I am made of!

(Fra Lippo Lippi: Robert Browning)

“Arupathette……Arupathette….!”

(“Sixty eight….Sixty eight…..!”)

Narayanan was counting the number of Para (A measure for paddy, rice etc.) paddy being taken inside the house to be put in to the Pathayam (Granery). Paddy was heaped on the courtyard in front of the house. One laborer filled it in to the Para which was then poured in to a bamboo basket. As the next Para of paddy was poured, Narayanan called out “Arupathompathe……Arupathompathe….!” as if singing a number song. The basket when filled was taken inside by a laborer to be put in to the large wooden granary. This place, infested by small white flies called nelpatta, was also used as a hiding place by children in the summers when their cousin brothers and sisters came home during vacation and played hide and seek.

Labourers Chilamban and Ramakrishnan carried paddy in bamboo baskets to the granary. Dusk had fallen by the time the job was over. Labourers were paid their wages in paddy. They carried it in bundles made of cloth and headed towards their houses walking through the darkening path ways of Ariyanipadam. Crows flew Eastwards above their heads towards the big banyan tree in Madanassery Angadi . Crows in Pulappatta nested on this banyan tree while large bats meditated with their heads down on the huge mango trees in Mokshath temple and Cholayil house.

Narayanan took out his small snuff box held tight to his hip by rolling

it safely in the corner of the cotton half cloth which he wore. He then

pushed a large amount of the tobacco powder into both nostrils and inhaled it deeply. A hot sensation pierced into his brain as a rocket piercing in to the sky. As it exploded like a bomb in his brain, he sneezed violently. He then forcefully cleared the nostrils off its secretions.

“Ithiri enna tharin Ammu Eduthi……” Narayanan asked Grand Mother for oil. He took the oil in the cup of his palm and applied it to his closely cropped, curly, graying hair. He then started towards the Kulam for taking bath. But his legs were taking him beyond the Kulam to the jungle on the east side. There they stopped in front of the bamboo thorn fencing separating the house property from that of the neighbor. Narayanan stood there looking at the neighboring house, not exactly knowing what he expected to see or hear from the house. Darkness had fallen. There was nobody seen outside the house. A weak light from a small wick lamp came out of the house. A large hay stack in front of the cow shed stood like a huge monster in the semidarkness.

Some years ago a middle aged woman and her son lived in this house.Her husband had deserted them and had married another woman in Tamil Nadu. He had two children in his new wife. Now he was not alive. A legal battle was going on between the two wives regarding the right to the property. The children of the house were very much fond of Ammalu Amma. After coming from school, they will go to her house through the opening made in the bamboo fence and will spend their time with her while she worked in the farm or cow shed. They were also invited to the birth day of her son who was much elder than them. On some afternoons she would come to the house and sit for hours talking with grandmother and Parukutty Elayamma.

One early morning Ammalu Amma and her son were seen walking down the main path way of Ariyanippadam west ward. She was carrying a large bundle on her head. Her son also was carrying some bundles. Ammalu Amma was weeping and kept on wiping her eyes with the free hand as she held the bundle with the other. Grand Mother, Parukutty Elayamma and Ponnambalan watched the sight with sullen faces. Ammalu Amma had to leave the house as her husband's second wife and children in Tamil Nadu had won the court case. They were expected to occupy the house shortly.

Finally when they came, a middle aged woman, her adolescent son and daughter, it was a new experience for the neighbors in the village. They talked aloud in Tamil. Some other relatives also had accompanied as they were coming for the first time. The otherwise quite area became noisy all of a sudden with their arrival. The adolescent boy roamed in the field wearing only an under wear, a common sight in Tamil Nadu but a rare sight in our village, and climbed up the trees like Tarzan the ape man. The girl though dark complexioned, was fairly attractive and worked in the farm with enviable smartness.

The new neighbors could not establish the same warm relationship with the house though there was nothing wrong with their behavior.May be the thought of Ammalu Amma and the fate meted out to her created a mental block among all family members. The opening in the fence which connected the two houses during Ammalu Amma’s time slowly disappeared. The pathway way through the jungle, on the East side, which led to their house was soon encroached by the jungle on either side. Only Narayanan frequently went to the fence and watched the girl and boy working in the farm. He chatted with their mother who managed to communicate mixing Tamil and Malayalam in disproportionate quantities.

“Aval midukkathya ….” (She is smart…) Narayanan once remarked about the girl and laughed while he was dining with Ponnambalan, Parukutty Elayamma and Grandmother in the kitchen. That was one of the very rare occasions when Narayanan came out of his shell of solitude and participated in the general talks that took place during dining. Parukutty Elayamma glanced at Grand Mother and Ponnambalan. The "general talks" stopped suddenly. Silence, pregnant with meanings, followed. The next day Parukutty Elayamma threw an open question at the gathering of Grandmother, mother and Ponnambalan even as she pushed a piece of pukayila (Chewing tobacco) in to her mouth, which was already filled with the red solution of betel leaves:

“ Kizhakke velikkal aedu nerom evanentha kariyam enna njan chodikkane…” (I am asking what is his business at the East fence… always…) Question was not taken up by anybody for answering.

How long he stood at the fence, Narayanan does not know. There were no movements in the house other than the shadow dance created by the moving flame of the wick lamp. The noise and laughter of the house had left long back. The girl had fallen in love with a shop keeper and gone to Tamil Nadu after marrying him. The boy also had left in search of employment. Their mother was alone now. With a huge sigh Narayanan started walking back to the Kulam.

By the time he reached the house after taking bath, Grandfather was ready at the large wooden table with his long account book. He was recording the day’s receipts and expenditure in the light of a lantern placed on the table. “ Innu ethara aalanedo ….” He enquired to Narayanan how many laborers were there today. Narayanan started naming them: Chilamban, Ramakrishnan, Raman, his wife Cheeru…

“Why are you again and again calling that Raman? He cannot even stand on his legs, let alone work…” Grandfather asked. Narayanan without replying showed a gesture waiving his palm upward which perhaps meant: let him also live somehow ….

Both Raman and his wife Cheeru were regular workers of the house. Raman was an extremely thin man who, perhaps because of his excessive drinking in the night, could not even walk steadily. He appeared more like a tuberculosis patient. On the other hand, his wife was a fair complexioned fat lady. She had six fingers in each hand. The sixth finger was more like a wart attached to her palm. The only justification to call it a “finger” was the tiny nail it had at the tip.

There were laborers throughout the year for Narayanan to supervise. As rains stopped and winter came, Narayanan went in search of bamboo thorns for fencing work. Ramakrishnan, Chilamban and Chinnan brought large bunches of bamboo thorns. Fencing was a laborious job involving putting thorn after thorn and tying it with a long strand peeled off from the ‘handle’ of Palmyra leaf called Panthakam.

“See how painful it is for us to eat food…” Ramakrishnan showed his palm full of scratches and cuts by bamboo thorns to the children who were spending their time after school with them.

May be he meant not merely the pain the palm will give while eating food but the difficult jobs they had to undertake to make a living as well.

On some mornings children woke up listening to the sound of Palmira leaves falling on the ground. It was rather an invitation for a feast on the sweet fruit jelly of the Palmira palm tree. Chinnan had specialized in climbing up the Palmyra palm tree. In misty winter mornings he climbed up the palm trees to its dizzying heights. As children watched from below, he went up and up embracing the black palm tree......with no branches to step on, no branches to rest on...his thighs scratched by the harsh skin of the black palm. Reaching atop he will cut down its sturdy leaves and black fruits. When he comes down, the palm which looked like a mad man with wild hair earlier would have turned in to a gentle man with close cropped hair. The leaves, after removing their "handle" and drying, will later find their way to the roof top of, may be Ramakrishnan's house and will protect his family from sun and rain for one year....Children of the house also will be invited to Mechil sadya, the feast arranged for workers after thatching the roof...

One afternoon Narayanan woke up from his siesta on the Kulappura parapet with an intense desire to pollute his gullet with snuff. He reached for the small urn like snuff box, made of bison horn, presented to him by a relative in Madras. He usually kept it tight to his hip, rolled on the corner of his Dhoti. But now it was missing. He made a search on the floor and the ground below. It was not there. He now started worrying, not because the aesthetically made little "urn" is missing, but because the golden brown dust it contained will not be readily available to send fire balls in to his brain. He got up and went to the house for inquiring with the children. Sometimes they used to tease him by hiding the snuff box. He pleaded with the children for giving back the snuff box but they had not taken it. Narayanan restlessly rushed out of the house and walked down the pathway of Ariyanipadam. He left the fields behind and climbed up the narrow pathway which leads to Madanassery angadi. As he entered the pathway, the Tamil lady who was standing in front of her house came to chat. But he was in no mood for that. Narayanan felt disheartened as he reached his destination, the small shop of Ramaru Chettiar, for, the shop was already closed. Then he remembered that today is Saturday, the day Chettiar went to Palakkad for taking goods. Now the only ray of hope was Nanu Nair's shop at the village junction. He walked down the mud road briskly. There also bad luck awaited him. Though the shop was open, it did not have stock of the precious dust...

I do not think Narayanan with his limited literacy might have heard the dictum "necessity is the mother of invention". Well, now he was determined to invent something to satiate his lust for sending fire arrows in to the brain.....He came home and rushed to the kitchen. He took a piece of pukayila from the Chellam, the betel leaves box, and heated it in an iron pan. It was crushed on the grinding stone to make a rough powder. Narayanan pushed a liberal pinch of this improvised snuff, rather stuff, in to his nostrils. Though it did not have the exploding effect of the original dust, it did touch the comforting zones of his brain, there by relaxing him.

One morning Beeran mappila came for coating the copper vessels with lead. He was an old man with a grey goatee and always tried to pull it off with his fingers in vein, as he talked. He carried a huge sack wherever he went. He will camp at the courtyard in front of the Padippura (Small house for gate of the house) and will start the day by making a little hearth for burning charcoal, which he carried in a gunny bag. The bottom of the hearth will be connected to a wind blower which looked like a canvas bag. Blowing wind with this blower for kindling the charcoal was the most interesting part of his work as far as the children were concerned. Narayanan and Ponnambalan carried the large vessels to be coated, to the Padippura. Beeran melted lead and some chemicals and poured it on ground. An irregular shaped white piece of the new alloy was formed. This was scratched inside the vessels preheated on his small hearth and wiped with rug. Alas..!The inside of the vessels glistened instantly like silver coating!

Narayanan and Ponnambalan were to carry these large vessels once again to the Padippura after a few days. This time the vessels were placed on large three "breasted" hearths in which large logs of wood were burnt for boiling paddy in them. Kunhukuttan Ammavan supervised the work as laborers brought paddy from the Pathayam and boiled. Boiling had to be precise, lest, the rice will not be good. Boiled paddy, for drying, was spread on the courtyard around the house, made clear two days back by smearing cow dung.

One evening Narayanan walked down the long pathway of Ariyanipadam. Pathway carried the dampness of the first shower of the summer. Darkness had started to fall. Trees and plantations on both banks of the fields had become dark. Small light dots of oil lamps appeared among the darkness from the houses on the banks. Frogs and crickets had started their orchestra. Narayanan turned from the pathway and walked towards a light dot on the left bank. He came to the front of a thatched roof house and called out:

"Rama...Ramo....".

"Aaraad..?" (Who is that..) A woman's voice enquired from inside.

"Idu njana...." (Its me..) replied Narayanan.

The slit of light coming out of the house through the closed doors widened as the door opened and Cheeru came out with a wick lamp in her hand. Narayanan sat on the wooden plank fitted on the half wall of the passage of the house.

“Nale kannu poottan thudanganam…mazha peythille..” (It has rained…. ploughing is to be started tomorrow …)

Cheeru stood leaning on the door frame holding the wick lamp in her hand. She had taken oil bath in the river after the day's work and her black hair spread around her face and fell on her shoulders. Her red blouse blazed in the wick lamp light. A hot wind laden with moisture from the evening shower came up from the fields fluttering the flame of the lamp.....

The first shower of the summer had fallen in the afternoon. Ariyaninpadam which had fissured due to the scorching summer had fully drunk its waters. Though a heavy downpour, it was not enough to quench her thirst. However she was ready for the first scratch of the plough...start of a new season...once again giving birth to life.......sowing, sprouting, yielding, harvesting.....following the endless cycles of nature.

At Molora, Vadakke Puzha, the river on the northern side of the village, encountered stiff resistance from a group of rocks for her free flow. She managed it cleverly by splitting into several tributaries and continued her journey, giggling, embracing each rock. Narayanan laid on a large rock looking at the moon which had come out after the rains. Strains of Keli, drums announcing the Kathakali performance, was coming with the west wind.

Today where is Kathakali? Narayanan tried to remember. Finally he got. Pachayil temple........ he had heard some days earlier. He got up and stepped in to the dark waters of the river reflecting the moon. The moon shattered into golden pieces. Walking through the river he took a dip where water was sufficiently deep. After a while he was heading west wards towards the temple from where now Kathakali music was coming floating with the wind.

One afternoon children were engaged in a game called "feeding the buffalo with chicken". There were two pairs of young buffaloes in the shed. During the non agricultural season when there was no work for them, ayurvedic medicines crushed with chicken meat was given to them for vigor and vitality. The buffaloes will resist eating it to the hilt, shaking their heads violently: Ramakrishnan, Ponnambalan and Narayanan holding them by their horns and reigns, will forcefully push it down their pharynx. Enacting this incident was the game. "Medicine” was fried snacks and sweetmeats. Kunhukuttan Ammavan took up the role of the buffalo. He, though discreetly happy to eat the snacks, will pretended to resist, shaking head as one of the boys will hold him tight and the other will push the "medicine" in to his mouth. The game will go on till Grand Mother scolded the children and put an end to the supply of the snacks.

As the game was in progress at Kulappura, Narayanan came staggering from the farm. He held his hand to his chest. He came inside Kulappura and straight away laid down on the floor. He was sweating profusely and his body language showed that he was in severe pain.

That was the first time shadow of death fell on Narayanan. Myocardial infarction..... He never managed to move out of that shadow...........

Again summer came and Ariyanippadam got dried up. Then rains poured down, paddy was sown, seeds sprouted, saplings were transplanted, paddy had grown, yielded, harvested, pathayam filled.....The saga of never ending cycles of nature continued......

The farmer is dead; Long live the farmer........

TRIBUTES 3

On a summer afternoon, leaning against the big tummy of Kunhukuttan Ammaman, we children sat on the low wall of Kulappura (House built adjacent to Kulam,Tank) . Kulappura, surrounded by Areca, coconut trees and other vegetation was the coolest place in the House on a scorching summer afternoon. Every day, after lunch, we spent our time there till the call for afternoon tea came from the house. Beyond the Areca garden, Ariyanippadam laid dry and full of fissures made by the merciless sun. At that hour, only snake catchers from Tamil Nadu wandered through the fields looking for their prey, braving the scorching sun. They wore Khaki shorts and white vests and held long iron rods. While wandering their ever watchful eyes penetrated in to the numerous burrows and sensed where a rat snake was peacefully resting. They opened the burrows with their iron rod and caught the snake by hand. Then it was rotated in air like a fan. The snake, who lost it's moving ability by this exercise, was then stuffed in to the yellow cloth bag that they carried for skinning later.

Coconut and areca gardens created an evergreen boundary for the Ariyanipadam paddy fields.

Through the gaps of those thickets, white and red colors of the tiled roof houses on the other side of the paddy fields were visible. Beyond all these, Western Ghats, which we, the people of Pulappatta , called as Kalladikodan Mala stood raising its minarets into the cloudy skies.

We sat happily listening to the jokes and stories of Kunhukuttan Ammaman passing our hands through his pure white soft hair.

“It’s due to honey” he would say. “By mistake I applied honey in my hair instead of oil. Because of it hair became white….not because of age…”.We would laugh.

The family house property had four Gods installed in four corners of the property. Brahma Rakshas, considered soul of expired Brahmins who once upon a time owned the property, had their seat at South Eastern part. Dharma Deivam considered to be the God of present owners sat at the South Western corner. Kuttichathan and Parakutty occupied places at North Eastern and North Western corners respectively. First two were pure vegetarians and teetotalers and found pleasure in Appam, Adada, Avil, Malar and Payasam. Krishnan Embrandiri from Kottayil temple was called in once in a year to perform the pooja for them.

Eating habits of the Gods on the Northern side, however, was different. They preferred Chicken with Local Toddy or Arrack and therefore Kunhukuttan Ammaman took up the role of the Poojari twice in a year to feed them. In his absence Ponnambalan took up the responsibility. Neighbor boy Ramakrishnan played the second fiddle in both cases assuming the role of Kizhsanthi. For the children of the house these two poojas were the only occasions for tasting non vegetarian food from the house and they looked forward to it.

When the day for the Pooja was fixed, mostly just before the rains start, Ponnambalan will set out on his search for the Rooster. In those days, chicken shops with drowsy, half dead broilers crowded in dirty cages were not available at every nook and corner of the villages and towns. Ponnambalan had to inquire with neighbors or had to go to the Monday market at Kongad for getting one. Before the Pooja day he will somehow manage to get a colorful, lively Rooster who will be imprisoned in a small room of the Kulappura till the Pooja time.

Pooja night.....

Children were not allowed to the Pooja site till the execution of the Rooster was over. There will be a long interval after the execution as Ramakrishnan dressed the Rooster and cooked it. At this point we children, accompanied by Ponnambalan with his lantern and bamboo pole, went to the jungle about two hundred meters away from the house. It was pitch dark and frequent lightning warned that any time a downpour may occur. Kunhukuttan Ammaman sat on a wooden plank under the Alari tree where the Kuttichathan was installed. Kolthiri, Bamboo sticks, wound by cloth at the end and dipped in oil, were fixed on earth and lighted for light. The Alari tree with its leaf less branches which looked like fingers of a leper, had an out-of-world look in the Kolthiri light. Dark red, black and yellow squires were made on the earth using turmeric, rice powder, burnt paddy husk and quick lime. Red colored Hibiscus petals heaped in front of the colorful squires. Blood of the Rooster on the triangular stone representing Kuttichathan was still not dry.The sound of fluttering of the wings of some large bird moved away from the nearby tree top. The soul of the Rooster seemed to hang around in this black and red atmosphere. Sounds of cicada and cricket spoiled the otherwise quiet jungle night. In the long wait for the cooked Rooster to arrive from the house, all wished that the rains will hold back till the Pooja is over.

Finally Ramakrishnan came with the hot Bell metal cauldron containing the Rooster curry. The smell of cooked spicy chicken curry pervaded the night air. That drove away the lingering sad feelings of the Rooster soul from the children’s mind.

To hell with the Rooster soul!

Kunhukuttan Ammaman offered Avil, Malar (Puffed and beaten rice), coconut pieces and Rooster curry to the God by hand gestures. Arrack, which Chathu, the field worker who frequented the arrack shop, had procured from a local shop was poured in to a coconut shell and was offered. After the rituals were over, arrack was shared fifty-fifty by Kunhukuttan Ammaman and Ponnambalan as Prasadam. Though Ponnambalan was his usual serious self even after taking it, Kunhukuttan Ammaman tried to pretend as intoxicated:

"Now I can see two Sasi and two Suresh........" He declared to the children.

Though thecurry was made of one Rooster, it was shared to all neighboring houses apart from the large number of inmates. Sharing seemed to be the joy for all in those days!

One night Kunhukuttan was startled awake by his full urinary bladder. It was a winter night. He laid in half sleep awoke for some time looking at the pale light in the passage. Flying light worms were lighting the inverted lotuses on the wooden pillars under which he slept. Under another pillar Ponnambalan also slept. Narayanan was sleeping perpendicular to them on a wooden plank with his head to the south. Below, on the floor, on jute sack slept the guard of the house, Kalu, the dog. He had rounded himself tightly and the head was dug in to the center.

Kunhukuttan came out of the house and moved towards the Indian Gooseberry (Avla) tree near the Cow Shed, loosening his loin cloth. Outside, it was very cold. Silent night. The pinnate leaves of the Gooseberry tree were folded in sleep. A half moon in the sky and the winter fog weaved a translucent curtain around the house. Kunhukuttan was about to get up after passing urine when he felt some body pass by him. But who at this odd hour……..? It’s all my feeling….he tried to reason. But then he heard the sound of footsteps falling on dry leaves. Kunhukuttan, brave man he is, felt a lightning of fear flashing through his guts. He was sitting near the pathway below the tree which went up to the thick jungle outside the court yard of the house. He tried to lift the head and look ahead despite the stiffness he felt on the back of the neck due to fear. He saw a white colour moving towards the jungle. Was it a man wearing a dhoti? Grey hair...? Or is it just a feeling? He was not sure. It was not the stealthy movement of a thief….It was an authoritative movement…..as if somebody authorized to walk this way any time…….seeing him sitting there and walking ahead totally ignoring him. This recognition made Kunhukuttan sweat in the cold winter night.

He somehow got inside the house and called Ponnambalan in a hushed voice. Kalu hearing the voice looked up and identifying Kunhukuttan returned to his sleep pushing his head in to the round. Kunhukuttan with much difficulty woke up Ponnamabalan and told him he saw somebody out side.

“Ningalkku thonniyatavum…ippo kedannu orangin.” (Its your feeling.....try to sleep...). Ponnambalan pulled his blanket over his head and went back to sleep. It seemed, Ponnambalan, during his nocturnal wander around the house, had already encountered something similar.

Next day when Grand Father was sitting on the steps leading to the court yard Kunhukuttan presented the incident.

“Brahmarakshassinte Pooja nadathan vaiki………Krishnan Embrandirikku aale ayakkya…….” Grand Father said.

(Pooja for the South Eastern God is getting late. Send word for Krishnan Embrandiri.)

Years later when I came home on holidays, I visited Kunhukuttan Ammaman in his house. Now his elder brother's son was looking after him. He had grown weak and cataract had hung grey veils in his eyes. The large tummy, against which we leaned and listened as small children, when he recited the adventure stories, had wrinkled like a deflated balloon. He had difficulty in walking. Still, when I took leave of him, he followed me to the bamboo gate of the house with the help of a bamboo pole, improvised as a walking stick. I crossed Ariyanipadam and reached our Padippura. (Gate). When I looked back, he was still standing there looking at my direction. Was he able to see me through his cataract draped eyes? I do not know. I too stood in front of the Padippura looking back at him. It was evening. As we stood on opposite sides of the paddy fields, twilight slowly started fading and darkness between us grew denser....

TRIBUTES 2

Parukutty Elayamma had always been a part of the kitchen;Like the large granite pot containing salt crystals sitting on an extra hearth used only when there was a feast in the house...Like the glass less wick lamp which sat on a iron plate mounted on a wooden stand called Madampi, and kept lighted from evening till the kitchen was closed....Like the small and large China pots black due to their use over the years...Like the big brass pot that contained a red decoction of various herbs called Chukkuvellam used to quench the thirst of the family members...Like the numerous pots and urns and small wooden planks meant for sitting and kept leaning against the wall when not in use...

Though the kitchen always had a dark gloomy atmosphere, thanks to the use of hearths in which wood were burnt for cooking, Parukutty Elayamma possessed a fair complexion that was a rarity, not only in the family but in the community as well. She entered the kitchen well before sunrise and remained there till it closed well after sunset. The kada kada sound of the smooth river stone placed inside the wooden pulley as she lifted water from the well was the alarm for neighbors to wake up.The only time before noon,perhaps, she came out of the kitchen was for collecting the Jack tree leaves .She then folded these leaves in to an improvisedspoon for the family, laborers and servants to drink porridge which was on the menu at nine in the morning.

In the afternoon she would get some time for chatting with some of the common neighboring lady visitors to the house.It may be someone seeking pickles like Uppumanga or Mulagumanga from Grandmother as somebody was ill at their house. Or it may be the wife of the Barber who made calls to the house on every Monday and Friday, early morning. He shaved the male members of the house sitting in the varanda of the Kulappura. But when his wife arrived, the ladies of the house mysteriously disappeared in to the darkness of the insides of the Kulappura. Her reports on various personalities and happenings of the village came out of the rooms,some times in hushed tone denoting the confidential nature of the information.Children who sneaked around despite the prohibitory orders, listening to these reports like a radio commentary wondered what is going on inside.

Or the visitors may be coming to look for fallen Areca nuts or for plucking some betel leaves from Ponnambalan's betel garden: Like Angadi Kali who was slightly out of mind and always whispered something to herself while searching for Areca nut. Her daughter also was out of mind and wept all the time talking about her son, Chami. He was working in some Government Office in Karnataka .She came to the house whenever she got a letter from her son which was to be read out by mother.The letter always contained matter about his inability to come to the village due to "some examinations". All the ladies, ignorant of Government departmental tests, wondered what these never ending "examinations" were.However the desolate mother listened to the contents of the letter with weeping eyes as always.

As dusk fell, as all family members moved to the first floor for sleeping,as Ponnambalan embarked on his nocturnal journey through the farm with his long woodden pole and a lighted lantern and as Narayanan started reciting Kathakali songs aloud, often taking steps of a character in the folk art, it will be the turn of another desolate mother to weep thinking about her daughter and their plight....

Today a letter had come from Kalluvazhi,a remote village where her daughter is married away, which mother had read out. Parukuttyy Elayamma's daughter had given birth to another girl baby,her fifth, and this had pushed everybody into sorrow.

"Ini niruthan parayeen, anchayille penkuttikal..." Mother was telling Parukutty Ilayamma to advise her daughter for adopting family planning measures as she now has five daughters. The burden of marrying off five daughters obviously weighed in her advice.

Outside the narrow and high netted window of her bedroom, night became dense among the aged mango trees.Beyond the huge mango trees in pitch darkness sat Nagathan, the serpent God.Once in a year Krishnan Embrandiri came and performed the pooja for Nagathan and Dharma Daivam, the family God represented by a self erupted mud idol housed in a small temple.Wild creepers hung from the huge trees intertwining like mating snakes. Parukutty Elayamma looked out of the window unable to sleep as fire flies made the futile attempt of lighting up the jungle. In the solitude of her sleepless nights she thought of her life journey....

Her husband had expired soon after the birth of her daughter. How did he die? I have never heard any account of his death from the house discussions. Even otherwise it is not relevant. What is relevant is life after death. Of course not of the person who died but of the survivors. After the death of her husband, Parukutty came back to live with her brothers, carrying all her belongings in a Pettakam (Wooden Box), which was given to her as marriage gift as per the custom.When her daughter attained age, she was married off to the brother in law of one of her brothers.

After wards when her brother decided to move to his wife's place, Parukutty came to live with her elder sister, my Grand mother whom she called Ammu Eduthi and we called Achamma. She carried her Pettakam of belongings to our house and it found it's new resting place in her solitary bed room; and Parukutty identified herself with the numerable items of the kitchen. There she resigned to her solitude accepting her destiny.

Whenever father, who was a school teacher, got some extra income by way of official duties, he will add a line to the Gold Muthumala of Grand mother. Like other ladies of the house Parukutty Elayamma would examine the ornament when it was brought to house, holding it close to her eyes whose sight had started failing.Delightfully.Without jealousy...lust... or any complaint to the Almighty regarding the disparity, though the owner of the jewels and herself were the products of the same womb.Her daughter and children visited the house whenever there was a special occasion. They spent most of the time in the solitary bed room talking to her but were unable to mingle with the children of the house; some thing, economical or social or something I am unable to explain, separated them. So near a relation, yet so far.....!

Years passed on in the form of sun and rain out side the kitchen window during the day; In the form of rain, darkness and moon light out side the narrow netted bedroom window during the night.Vishu and Onam came one after the other. For Karkkidaka Samkranti Parukutty Elayamma welcomed the Goddess of prosperity, Sreebhagavathy. Sreebhagavathy and Chetta Bhagavathy are believed to be sisters. Sreebhagavathy will come only if Chetta Bhagavathy is routed out of the house. Ammukutty, the outside servant played the role of Chetta Bhagavathy carrying broom and other wastes in a mud pot. Paruktty Elayamma chased her out of the house calling out "Chette..Phoo, Chette ..Phoo... Chetta Purathu, Sree Bhagavathy akathu..". (Chetta out;Sree Bhagavathi in..). Next day onwards Grand mother made Shivothi for thirty days - on a wooden plank water in two Kindis were kept, mirror, flowers, sandal wood piece etc were arranged. Representing Sree Bhagavathy.

And one day grand mother, fell down due to cerebral thrombosis. She could not get up there after despite treatment of all sorts,systems. From her state of delirium she called out Parukutty and Ponnambalan day in and day out. Parukutty elayamma, herself aged and requiring assistance, nursed her sister along with Ponnambalan. So devotedly that when after three years Grand mother passed away, it was felt that Parukutty Elayamma has accomplished the purpose of her very existence on earth.Now she too was developing physical ailments and the question of who will nurse her if she is bed ridden disturbed the family atmosphere.It was time for her Pettakam to find a new resting place in their journey.......

Parukuty Elayamma's daughter's house turned out to be smaller than what I had imagined.It was a common Kerala style construction with tiled roof. Every corner of the house was so full that I doubted whether there was any room left for Parukuty Elayamma's pettakam. We carried it from the Jeep and kept it in a corner of the inside room which ,perhaps, was it's last resting place. In the front open hall itself her son in law, who was now unable to walk due to rheumatics, laid on a wooden cot. Her daughter also was visibly weak, physically.All their five daughters had been married away,fortunately, to good families. Most healthy among all the inmates seemed to be the octogenarian mother in law of her daughter. All of them received us heartily to my surprise.It seemed, just as Parukutty elayamma, all of them had accepted their fate without murmur and was ready for anything life had in store for them.......good,bad or worse.When we started off our return,Parukuty elayamma said to me "Come to see me once in a while....I just want to see you all......". Her voice strained of sorrow and I noticed her eyes were full of tears.......

After that even though we visited her every now and then and sent her small sums for her maintenance, Parukutty elayamma was brought to House only once;during the marriage of sister.She was brought one week in advance and seemed to be very happy to come home.....The home where she had spent more than thirty years; and loved whose inmates more than her own daughter and grand children.....Even though she had difficulty in walking, she went around the house and examined everything.

"Karoppila maram valuthayalo......"(The curry leaves plant has grown big). She said delightfully looking at the Curry leaves tree now full of dark green leaves.Some times getting curry leaves which was indispensable for any Kerala dish was difficult. Being the kitchen- in- charge, she had therefore planted a sapling near the kitchen so that there is easy access to curry leaves whenever needed. Some how my mind tried to equate her own life with that of curry leaves...Indispensable for every dish yet discarded by every one......

After the marriage when she got in the Jeep for her return journey, I noticed the tears in her eyes. Even though the family members were present to see her off, every body spared the etiquette of asking when she will come back next. Still she said as a soliloquy:

" Eni eppo varan ivade arudeem kalyanom illalo..." (Now there is no marriage here for me to come ...)

" There is no need of any such occasion.....I shall come with a Jeep and bring you here whenever you feel like coming here......" I wanted to say that.But before the words came out the jeep had moved........

Years later when the inevitable end came to her after getting bed ridden for some months, we were in a far away town for a major surgery for father. May be that was yet another irony scripted by destiny that we should not take part in the last rites of a person who had been so affectionate to us........

Only the persons who looked after her in her last days had the right for that........!

TRIBUTES

Night started to pull it's dark blanket over the Kulam (pond) and the surroundings as I sat on the last step of a flight of granite steps leading to the dark, cold waters, dipping my feet in to it. From a distance I could hear the low sound of the TV sops and the voices of children and relatives watching TV at home. How long I had been sitting here? I do not know. I have been completely engulfed by the solitude surrounding this Kulam. Now as darkness falls it takes a still different shape of mystery and unearthliness.

Huge and old Areca and coconut trees surrounding the Kulam gave a Jurassic atmosphere as darkness descended over them. In the day light their inverted shadows used to sway like huge anacondas as wind created little ripples in the Kulam. Little fishes tingling my feet reminded me of the Piranhas in Phantom comics which I used to read with passion in my childhood. A water snake came swaying towards my feet and suddenly turned away, perhaps sensing a human.

Lights and the sound of the TV coming from the House suddenly vanished. Power cuts are frequent in the village. Thick darkness engulfed the universe. Through the gap over the Kulam I could see the haze of the clouded, starless sky. Only fire files with their little lights moved smoothly through the air.

Now from the far end of the farm bamboo fence, I could see a light slowly walking towards me. Beyond the farm fence was a large expanse of paddy fields called Ariyanippadam. In the middle ofAriyanippadam there is a marshy patch which will not be dry even in the most grueling summers. From the childhood stories that Kunhukuttan Ammavan told, a demon called Potti Pishachu travels in the area during solitary hours of the night. Fire balls will come out as it opens it's mouth. Several people had seen it. Now the light moving towards me .....is it Potti Pishachu?

As the light drew nearer I could see it was a person holding a lantern. He held a long stick too in hand. He was wearing only a Thorthumundu (Towel). I sat stunned unable to move or raise my voice. It was Ponnambala Tharakan! But...but..Ponnambalan had died at least twenty years ago..! Now in this night..how..

Suddenly the window of the house facing the Kulam opened with a noise.
"Ponnambala....are you there? Have you not finished your bath yet? We people have to go to bed after giving you food.We have to get up early in the morning...come soon..."

It was the voice of Parukutti Elayamma.I could recognize her voice even now ....fifteen years after her death! Now what is happening? My logic was un able to comprehend. Or have I been taken back to twenty or twenty five years back through a time machine?

2
Grand Father sat on the steps in front of the house listening to the Ramayana recital of Grand mother in the after noon. Summer heat was simmering outside. Tile roofing and wooden ceiling work of the old house insulated the interiors from the scorching heat to a large extent. Near to Grand Father, Kunhukuttan Ammavan, Senior Karyastan (Supervisor of farm, house etc) also stood looking at the workers making hay heap. First crop had just been taken and the entire courtyard around the house was spread with hay for drying and keeping in heaps.

"Rain clouds are gathering from the East. Quickly make the hay stack..". Kunhukuttan Ammaman called out to the workers.

Ponnambalan came from the side of the house with a cow and calf. He was wearing his eternal dress of thorthu. His loin cloth was visible through it as always. He carried a stack of fodder on his shoulders.
"See the time this fellow is bringing the cow! Now after his lunch when is he going to give it food and when is he going to milk it?" Kumhukuttan said prompting Grand Father to scold him. There were three Karyastans in the house. Kunjukuttan Ammaman, Narayanan Ammaman and Ponnambala Tharakan. All were chronic batchlers. While we children were taught to call the first two Ammaman (Uncle), Ponnambalan was taught to be called by his caste name, tharakan. Why? This had puzzled me in later life and I had a little bit of regret too about it. Ponnambalan being the Junior of the three Karyastans and in charge of cattle and internal matters was looked upon with a down cast air by the other two Karyastans who were in charge of paddy cultivation.

" Ponnambala...." Grand Father almost shouted, "why are you so late?”. Grand Father was respected and to some extent feared by all in the house. But Ponnambalan ignored the question and continued to guide the cow to it's shed.

"All so long you had been eating...are you not satisfied yet?" He shouted at the cow which made an attempt to pull hay from the stack that the workers were making.

"Dhikkari..!" Remarked Kunhukuttan.

That was the man - Ponnambalan. Never caring for anybody; even if it is his employer. His day always started early. When we children wake up in the morming, Ponnambalan will be milking the cows in the shed. The sound of milk spikes hitting the bell metal pot will add to the symphony by chirping birds in the morning. Most of his free time was spent in a small betel vine garden. Though Grand Father and Kunhukuttan ammaman required betel leaves it was often purchased from Ramaru Chettiar's shop in Madanassery Angady. Still Ponnambalan toiled with spade in the garden sometimes morning to night as if God has destined this as his life mission. Often food was forgotten in the process resulting in angry calls from Grand Mother and parukutty Elayamma.

Twice in a day Ponnambalan was to have a show of strength with a giant Grinding stone - immediately after lunch for grinding the cotton seeds for cattle and in the night for preparing batter for idly which was the permanent breakfast item in the menu of the house. These were the two jobs he did as a transcendental meditation loudly reciting some bhajans. At the end of the first shift he will carry the food and water to the shed and feed each cattle talking to them sitting in the manger. While one cow drank from the pot, the next animal will lick his hairy back with their scrubber like tongue.
"Ente muduku polinhoolo...!" (My back is broken..!).He will complain to the licking animal while caressing its face and removing ticks.

Visit to Mother's house was an occasion we earnestly looked to during the summer vacation. Ponnambalan had a crucial role to play in this annual ritual. Mother's house was in a very remote place and one had to walk about four kilometers through labyrinthine lanes after getting down from the bus, which itself was rare. And to catch the bus one had to walk another four kilometers. Ponnambalan and another young neighbor Ramakrishnan's role was to carry the two children when they were tired of walking. And both the children wanted to overtake the other by his carrier. While Ramakrishnan always kept his lead thanks to his young age, Ponnambalan came in for brutal attacks from the little rider for trailing behind. With tears in my eyes let me thank you ,Ponnambala Ammama, for not throwing the little devil down the labyrinth and walking back.

One day as I sat on the Kulakkadavu, Ponnambalan took a dip in the tank and started drying his body. I could see that age had started showing it's tiredness on his body.

"My ship is broken...Kuttee " he said." I am getting old and I looked forward to Chamy and wife to look after me...But now..." He left unfinished. Chamy, his brother had come in the morning. He had brought the sad news of the mental illness of his wife. I remembered Achamma, Parukutty Elayamma and all listening to the news with their index fingers placed on their nose.

"Don't worry...we are there for you..." Did I say that? No..I don't think. All along my life story had been not saying the right thing at the right time....Not repaying love and affection with love and affection.

Years later Grand mother, Achamma was laid immobile due to paralysis. In her delirium state she called out Ponnambalan and her sister Parukutty Elayamma through out day and night. As her children and grand children tried to sleep with a prick of conscience else where in the house, Ponnambalan and Parukutty Elayamma nursed her round the clock.

Ponnambalan was not well when I was leaving for a leisure trip to Pondicherry where I had some friends. He had consulted our village Doctor and was taking his medicines. I went in to his room and said good bye. "Take care of yourself". He told me.

After one week I came home after my tour. I sensed some oddity the moment I entered the gate. Our neighbor lady was coming from the cow shed after feeding the cows...Betel vine garden wore a gloomy look...Where is Ponnambalan? My mind suspected the worst.

"He developed chest pain and was taken to a hospital in town.....But could not save him.." I sat still unable to comprehend the reality. I thought about the the fears of old age that Ponnambalan carried in his mind even as he toiled for our family. Now he has left without waiting for the care of his brother or any body for that matter...

Years later I sat with my parents on the banks of Ganges in Varanasi. They were performing the rituals for the salvation of bygone ancestors. At one stage the Panditji guiding them announced,” Now you can bring to mind memories of any of the relatives or friends who have passed away and perform the rituals for their salvation...".

"Ponnambala Tharakan,Narayanammaman,Kunhukuttammaman..." I murmured to my father who nodded confirming that he has already remembered them.

Ganges flowed quietly, it's blue waters dissolving in the distant fog. The transcendental sound of conch raised from the Kedarnath temple behind us followed by ringing of bells. My mind became serene with the feeling of Ponnambalan and others achieving salvation.....