Nurungukal….2…cotd…

             Ammuchechi’s documentation of the details of the yearly ritual conducted by her family in the Malayalam month ‘Kumbham’  is a piece of literature which I think the family can boast of. As there was no earlier written evidences about the origin of the event she had based the description on the basis of details passed on  mouth to mouth by her elders. Yet it has attained  authenticity of the facts described, because of her faultless comprehension of the order of events that took place traditionally. I would like to place on record here my appreciation and respects for her tenacity in offering even the minute details of the ritual  as in a record for reference for posterity. It is more or less like a code manual.

        The deity is worshipped in the form of Bhadrakali who is identified as a ferocious Goddess. Her Divine presence is felt at three places [ Edom,kovilakam and mohoorkappil] as revealed by astrologers in a Swarna Prasnam.  Edom is the ancestral Tharavd of Moopil Niars,Kovilakam is the place where Kottayum Raja used to camp during his sojourns in Pozhuthana and Mohoor Kappil is a sacred grove on a nearby hillock.It is believed that it would have originated at least about 2000 years ago. But the age of the existing trees in the grove was assessed by a forester as about 500 years and so we may have to either guess the age of the ritual as 500 years or has to doubt that the earlier trees might have withered by age. But Ammuchechy had put forth a convincing argument to believe the age as around 2000 years on the basis of some of the remnants of clay idols dug out at Mohoor Kappil. The materials used to mould the idols were a mixture known as  KOOTTU SARKARA which was popular in those days.

       Ammuchechy had recorded that Shree Veera Marthanda Kerala Varma Pazhassiraja had fought battles with the British stationed at the Kovilakam. And it was his practise to worship his beloved ancestral Gods viz. Shree PorkaliBhagavathy,Kirathamoorthy,Shree Dhara Sasthavu,Ganapathy etc. …contd…

Nurungukal…2…contd…

        The Kottayum Raja who was the ruler of Pozhuthana and adjacent areas was fond of hunting wild animals. He used to make periodical visits to the forest which had an abundant wealth of many animals, especially tigers,bears, elephants etc.. He used to camp here for days with his retinue of servants and soldiers. During such hunting sprees it was his custom to take an Idol of his favourite Goddess, shree Porkali Bhagavathy for conducting his daily poojas. He used to camp at the same locations  which were the most suitable for worshipping. One such place was at the foot hills of a hillock in Pozhuthana , which is known as Anomkunnu. The location  known as Anoth was ideal, serene, isolated and near to a river and blessed with a perennial water fall.The Idol was housed in a thatched shed popularly called as Kovilakam.

      There is a very interesting story told by a leader [Moopan] of an adhivasi community about what prompted the king to select this place as his base camp. It goes like this….

       During one of his hunting episodes the king got isolated from his retinue and lost the way. Those days the area was a thick rain forest intertwined by a river and marshy lands. He wandered for hours and hours and was tired. The sound of the water flow in the river prompted him to take a dip to get rid of the tiredness and quench the thirst. As he was resting on the banks happened to see an unusually long human hair floating in the water. He was sure that it was that of a lady and he guessed that she would be very pretty. Once again he tried to gain the direction and then he met with a young village damsel who was carrying a bamboo container full of honey. After introducing him,  politely requested her to part with a small portion of the honey to get rid of his tiredness. The young lady hesitated but succumbed to the repeated appeal. After taking the sweet honey he wanted to know about her and knew that she belonged to an adhivasi family living near by. As the king was infatuated in her he accompanied her to the hamlet. This tribe found their livelihood in agriculture and paddy cultivation. The king spent a few days with her. As a mark of gratitude he assigned a vast land to the family.It was during this sojourn he set up the Kovilakam for stay and praying during his future trips and as time passed this place attained the status of a place exclusively for worshipping by a prominent Nair family in the vicinity…..contd…

Nurungukal…2…contd…

    My first meeting with Ammuchehy was a few days before my marriage. She, accompanied by my sister-in-law made a visit to Ponani to fine tune the formalities of our nuptial ceremony. She was particular about some customary practises, such as offering the Pudava in a Thali etc.. My mother who was well versed with, in the order of events and their relevance while conducting a marriage, purposefully pretended ignorance and agreed to what ever the visitors wished. But she was much impressed by the knowledge of Ammu chechy in such matters. There after when ever we met I used to enjoy her company and took pleasure in gathering  interesting tips, especially in matters connected with Puranas.  

        It was from her I knew about the history of Moopil Nairs of Wayanad. This area was formerly ruled by a dynasty called as Kottayum Rajas of Noth Kerala, before the annexation by the British from Tippu. For the purpose of efficient administration the Raja maintained a number of chieftains at strategic places and they were called as Moopil Nairs and each such families were known as Edom related with the name of the locality viz. Pozhuthana Edom, Kalpetta Edom etc. In those days Pozhuthana was a very strategic location as it was very close to Lakkidy, the gate way to Wayanad on the hills of Western ghats.  The Moopil Nairs of Pozhuthana attained a special status among the close circles of the Raja and were bestowed with great extent of forest and agricultural land. The area was so vast . As a result  the management was difficult and later, during the British rule the family had to part with chunks of their domain to East India Co. on lease under the pretext of development, although the main intention of the Company was to plunder the forest wealth, timber, ivory etc. In due course of time they cleared the forests and shipped logs and logs of wood, especially rose wood which were so huge , beyond any stretch of imagination, to England. The existing road passing through Pozhuthana was made by them mainly to transport the logs to Kozhikode for shipment. The road was then known as Pandimottom road.And once upon a time bullock carts were frequenting this route……cntd…..

Nurungukal…2…contd…

      A set of actions if repeated in exact intervals year after year without fail, attain a status of a custom, which we do not wish to get disrupted. There are many rituals practised in our society over the years which gained divinity and the descendants of any family shudder to break them. I do not want to draw a controversy on the belief, yet it would be interesting to take a dive on one such activity in which I partake  almost without fail since 1970.

     Ever since I entered into  one of the ancient aristocratic families of Wayanad by marrying my wife, I was fascinated to engage in conversation with one member who had a firm grip of events that took place around her,crystal clear. She was unique in depiction and authenticity. She was a good conversationalist, with a rare flair to hold one for hours. When ever we met I used to enjoy her company by engaging into a chat , especially on devotional subjects and lo her acumen was par excellence. She is none other than late Lakshmi kutty Amma affectionately called as Ammu Chechy, the younger sister of my mother-in-law. A charming personality with a deep knowledge in Puranas. I place the next few posts before her as a mark of respect and homage…..contd…

Nurungukal...2...contd...

     My job gave us an opportunity to live in places of different atmospheres. Out of which Pondy was the best. It was unique in many ways. There was a fusion of two cultures. The influence of a French life style  was still lingering side by side a Tamilian tradition. Even the Pondy town was divided into two by a canal. On the one side there lived a community aligned to french culture and those dedicated to a life propagated by Aurobindo. Where as on the other, the native Tamilians. But both lived in perfect harmony and inter depended. If one was  on the shores of Bay of Bengal the other was at the brim of a native village nurturing an agrarian legacy. Even the fragrance of these two identities differed. The east close to the ocean sensed ozone and perfumes . The west a rustic aroma emanating from the agricultural fields. Also the upkeep represented the respective way of life. If one was orderly and silent the other was vibrant and lively. But the nature around them mingled, intertwined and coexisted sharing each other ensuring a tranquillity. We lived there for seven years without feeling any strain and the passing of time.

            The weekends we spent our time either on the sea shore or in the adjacent park and a dine out to taste the best of French cuisine. Me and my friend Sathyaraj, an officer in Madras Fertilisers Ltd.used to enjoy the shallow waters of Bay of Bengal every Saturday evening. There was one joint, run by a french pensioner which served a crab dish topped up with a bulls eye. A scoop of the egg along with the flesh of a large crab was delicious and a dinner in a sea side restaurant  enjoying the caress of the breeze and the melodious music produced  when the waves pat the shore, remain fresh in our mind. An occasional visit to the Auorobido Ashramam and nearby Ganesha temple to feed the young elephant stationed before the temple gate helped to relieve the burden. The serenity of the Ashramam premises could revitalise the energy. The efficiency of the various insttutions run by them was always a model worth emulating. Where ever my posting, it was my pleasure to stray out to the nearby farms. It, not only gave me an insight into their way of life but also, a sense of togetherness. More over it is where we can meet true sons of the soil. The greenery around a farm is always my weakness. More than a square meal I enjoyed the sight of a setting sun at the brink of a vast paddy field, accompanied by a chorus of the home bound birds,insects etc..    contd...

Nrungukal...2...contd...

    Days,weeks and months passed, I was not successful in finding a suitable accommodation to increase the capacity of the warehouse. Although Pondy was in the high light of maritime business, when French was ruling , after independence the situation had changed. Those godowns constructed during French rule were already occupied by other agencies before our entry. A dilapidated pier and some adjacent godowns remained as remnants of a past glory. Ships used to anchor in deep waters. The cargo was brought ashore in small boats and unloaded with the help of an outmoded hand operated crane. Once in a way Food Corporation of India, who had built a warehouse in the port premises used to receive wheat from a mother ship anchored in Madras port.

   My superiors started expressing concern about my delay in locating a godown. Many offered small sheds, even a car shed, which were not complying to our norms. My only hope was to grab an accommodation, already in possession with a cooperative marketing society. As a bolt from blue the society faced an issue in managing their stock. I managed to convince the secretary about our flawless functioning and he readily volunteered to surrender their rented accommodation with the consent of the owner to us. It was a big offer,because they required the entire space on a reservation basis. This gave me a boost to work still harder and convinced me that perseverance is the only way to success.

       I was , all those days fully engrossed in my official commitments and settling down in Pondy.  It was long since I made a visit to my mother in Ponani. She was alone there,aged, yet fighting to live happily without any complaint. Her eye sight was fading, yet managed to read the news paper and holy books. She used to follow a strict schedule in daily chores. First the lighting of the lamp before her favourite Goddess Saraswathy. That photo still adorn our pooja place in Ponani. Then the recital of 20 stanzas from Narayaneeyam. She had her owner tune of reciting, which even now reverberates in my ear. To freshen that I am also reciting the lines in the same way she used to do, every day. It helps me to keep her fresh in my memory always. Bhagavatham was very dear to her. Every day at least one episode she would read, after lunch. As children we used to hear it fully engrossed. But her elder sister, we call her Valyamma was an expert in narrating the stories from puranas. May be that, such exposures during our childhood had enthused us to read many classics, even before completing SSLC. ....contd...

Nurungukal..2..contd...

     Our luggage was delivered a few days after our arrival in Pondy. My wife used this gap to procure a few more kitchen ware which I was avoiding. She was not fully satisfied with the facilities in the rented house. When our things were arranged there was not much space to move about. Her concern was about the child who was fast growing to the next mile stone, crawling. More over the accommodation was on the first floor, without much safety measures. I was once again on my heals in search of a safer shelter.

       I took over full charge of the ware house next day. As the capacity was very small, the procedure did not take much time.Actually it was only a shed, lacking all provisions of a scientific warehouse. From day one I was in pursuit to build up the capacity. It was a challenge and the Regional manager was behind me like a trainer pursuing his trainee. I slowly started learning the intricacies of managing a house and a warehouse, a dual role of a husband and manager.

       The LPG connection was my first priority. There was a hitch. I was not a ration card holder. Fortunately my official status gave easy access to get an audience with the Director of Civil Supplies Dpt. He was young, an ex-military officer, with a zeal to perform and show results. As Pondy was a small union territory, there was not much pressure of work and the officers appeared to be relaxed, unlike their counterparts in other states.  I started with an explanation of the activities of Central Warehousing Corporation and the need of a storage space in Pondy considering the potentialities in the agrarian front. He was inquisitive about our expansion plan and assured his full support. He was very receptive and considerate and gave a patient hearing. This gave me a sense of hope and encouragement to pursue my mission in Pondy. When I was about to leave I mentioned about my ration card. Without any hesitation he instructed his staff to issue it immediately as a special case and comply the formalities in due course of time which I did without much delay. I left his room ,satisfied and victorious......contd...

NURUNGUKAL....2...CONTD...

          When I was a bachelor, a transfer from a place to another did not bother me much. There were only  a few items to be packed. But the situation was different after marriage. The biggest problem was to ensure to carry the breakables like crockery and glass wares. Some of our relatives had gifted dinner sets, glass tumblers etc, which carried  a stamp of sentiments also. So at any cost they were to be a part of our future life. Some of them adorn our show case even now  and the rest became an essential part of the kitchen.  List of things  related to our child was quite large and they occupied at leas two big trunks. Fortunately my mother-in-law had given  two such boxes to pack the clothes of my wife. They became useful now. Kitchen wares, my collection of books, personal files, wooden cots, beds etc. etc. the list went on and on . It took nearly two full days to pack. It would have been an impossible task if I had ventured to complete the task  myself. The help rendered by one of my staff Mr. Chadayan in this regard is unforgettable. He did a splendid job and his expertise in such work became evident  when I opened the packages on reaching Pondy. Even the most fragile items remained in tact.

          There was a formal farewell function.  It was a routine  meet, when the colleagues bundled out  words in praise of the transferred official. A gift was presented, followed by a reply by me thanking one and all for their unreserved co-operation and expressing a hope  to meet them again .Many a time in my service I had passed through such routine farewell parties and I felt the sentiments expressed on such occasions were just momentary . But after a lapse of many years  since my retirement  when some of them call me over phone and recap the old days my heart  really miss a few beats. It is now I sincerely feel the amount of love and esteem they still bestow on me.It has become my habit now  to unwind some of the scenes which had occurred during those days  and to express a silent gratitude to those friends who were at that point of time so close to my heart.  Gone are those glorious days which can never come back, except in our sub conscious mind vague like  a distant silhouette in a misty morning......contd

Nurungukal...2...contd...

         About ten o’clock we reached Pondy. From the bus stand we went to the ware house in a cycle rickshaw. The peddler talked similar to his Madras counter part. Pandyan was cautious to fix the fare in advance. Mr. Ghani was in charge of the warehouse.. Both of us had the training together. He was an unassuming person. I had requested him to find out a house,but his attempts were in vain. Instead he gave us a tip about the possible localities, to get one to suit my budget. Without spending much time with him we went in search of a broker. Luckily Pandyan knew where such persons used to wait for their customers.

         A few streets away there was a joint adjacent to a tea shop. I do not know how he identified our intention. One gentle man from the crowd approached us and asked whether we were  in search of a house?. I was astonished. He might have been a good face reader or might be that because of such intrusions he was in that profession. He was lean, with a slight bend, dark, wearing a glass which was balanced at the tip of his protruding nose, wearing a white shirt with a soiled collar and black pants. He tucked a hand kerchief on the back of his neck, probably to absorb the sweat. As he gave me his hand to shake I felt the profuse moisture.

            After collecting details of my requirements and budget, he took out a small pocket diary in which there was many phone numbers, may be that of the house owners. Then the hunt started. I found him transparent and straightforward. He placed his cards openly and left us to take the decision. By evening we were successful to fix one and returned to Madras, after paying a nominal advance to the owner and a large tip equivalent to that of a month’s rent to the broker. I thanked him profusely. After my joining Pondy warehouse, many a time I had met him at the same joint, but he failed to pay any attention, might be because he knew that I was not any more his client !!......contd...

Nurungukal...2...contd...

        My transfer to Pondichery was sudden and unexpected. But  mentally I welcomed it. I was to hold charge of an up coming centre. The management had lot of expectations in me. And I took it as a challenge.My immediate problem was to find an accommodation. In Pondy I had no friends and to locate a rented house was  a difficult task. When I was pondering how to manage the issue, a helping hand came to my rescue. It was non other than Mr. Pandyan an assistant in the Tamil Nadu Civil Supplies Dept. He was working with us to supervise their transactions in the warehouse.

         Years ago Pandyan was living in a nearby village to Pondy town. His parents had a small farm. He had spent his child hood there. During our journey to Pondy he narrated  about his school days and how he was forced to shift to Chennai.

           His father was a peasant. He managed a home stead farm. The entire family was involved in the management of various operations. The cultivation depended entirely on the availability of  water from an irrigation system.  The water supply was often erratic as it was interrupted by the surrounding farmers who owned much larger area and were power full. Many a time Pandyan father had to face the wrath of his neighbours. The officials were less sympathetic to him as they were puppets of the bigger land lords in the area. In spite of these he managed to find a living. It was then the tragedy occurred. Pandyan lost his parents when they succumbed to a nasty epidemic of smallpox.  Many died in the village. Those who had better facilities managed to escape, but the poor were helpless. Although Pandyan was saved, the scars disfigured his face. More over it also affected his eye sight. He said the life after his parents demise was miserable as he had to depend on his relatives who were more concerned to snatch away the property. He some how managed to complete his SSLC. By that time he became a land less orphan. With the help of some social workers he managed to find a job in Tamil Nadu Civil Supplies Dpt.

            He was about forty years old and a chronic bachelor. The deep scars on his face and the spectacles with thick glasses stood in the way of his marriage. Nobody ventured to seek the gentle man in him. He was one of the finest human beings I have met. He was always obliging to the needy, irrespective of their social placing. Many a time I have seen him volunteering to help those who are in trouble. He was known to all as Pandyan anna and in one way or other many were indebted to him. His face with a broad smile showing his sparkling teeth and  brisk walk in white shirt and pants still linger in my memory.

        By the time we reached Pondy he almost finished his story and drew much more closer to my heart......contd...

Nurungukal....2...contd...

             Our life became more meaning full after the arrival of the child. I felt a sort of elevation in my responsibilities. We were short of time as it became a habit to watch his movements for prolonged hours. In the initial days I was not even able to hold him in my hands. An unexpected twitch or kick by him was difficult for me to manage. He was not at all comfortable in the way I held him. While fondling him in bed , I became helpless when a sudden jet of salty urine hit my eyes. It was worse when he eased his bowel in a public transport. It was at these moments I knew how adept are the mothers in tackling such situations. In my official life I had some training to meet much more complicated situations. But I found that such tricks seldom worked when we have to tackle a child’s behaviours. I think even the CEO of a corporate body  has to take lesson from an illiterate woman on these matters.

                      There were moments of despair and helplessness when at the dead of the night the child became ill, followed by incessant agony and crying. Time never move forward on such occasions. When one become helpless we rest our faith in an unseen power. Many a time we had to depend on such believes.

              As we were about to be settled down in Chrompet I was transferred to take charge of a warehouse in Pondicherry. It was a jolt. I was not prepared to shift camp. But there was no way to avoid. Then followed the usual procedures,viz. finding an accommodation in the new place, packing,transportation etc. etc.......contd....

                

Nurungukal..2..contd..

                 Our first child was born on first September in 1971, which was exactly one year after our marriage. A boy child. The delivery took place at Calicut and I was in Chromepet on duty. The colleagues wanted an immediate celebration. They were not satisfied by a mere distribution of sweets. The laddies wanted to know the details of the child like resemblance, colour, weight, mother’s health etc. The phone call from Calicut was disrupted  many a time due to a faulty system, which was very common in those days.  In my anxiety I failed to gather much except that the mother and child were safe. I booked a trunk call immediately and it materialised after a few hours. If it was now I could have had all the details by a feather touch and passed on a kiss too. I envy the new gen. parents.

                I had to wait for a few more days to get my leave sanctioned. In the mean time my wife had to go through a difficult time as the child fell ill on the 28^th day and the temperature was un- controllable for a few days. But thanks to the expert care rendered by an eminent paediatrician and the timely help by her sister for carrying the babe several time for medical care, normalcy was restored.  When I first saw my child bubbling beside the mother , he was a cute little beauty. One or two drops of tears rolled down her cheek. Was it because she became a proud mother or due to my absence when the child was ill, I failed to gather the message. Every thing became normal  as was always in her case, when I lifted him and cuddled tenderly.  The journey back to Chromepet by the trio was like that of a triumphant  conqueror, full of joy and merriment.........contd....  

Nurungukal...2...contd...

          When my wife went to Calicut for the delivery, I had to once again depend on the Nair mess. Even now I am very lazy when it comes for cooking. Many a time I had skipped my timely food when my wife is away. Especially in those days the ready to eat preparations were not in vogue in the market. But I remember that Maggy noodles, which is now a forbidden eatable had come for my rescue. Perhaps we were not aware of the hidden danger in such pre cooked foods. But I had a friend who used to be an expert cheff even when his wife was at home and she used to take advantage of his aptitude, and about which he was proud of. Hats off to my friend who is now no more.

                I would love to remember in gratitude the services rendered to me by one of my assistants who was in charge of the cleaning activities . When ever he is free he used to come to my house and help me. He loved to cultivate vegetables. The little land available around my dwelling was full with varieties of vegetables. He was from a farming community. Before joining the ware house he was working in a big farm. He had to leave because of the atrocities of the land lord. He had lost his parents  in his child hood. He never had a chance to go to school.  Although he was not a good cook, he put his heart into what ever he prepared. This gave me a chance to taste some of the native preparations made out of Ragi and other minor millets. Actually he worshipped the work he did. I have seen many such devoted workers during my service in Tamil Nadu. Their work culture is something which our brothers can emulate. Another quality which I have noticed in them is their frugal living. When we earn to spend they work to earn. So is their attitude in the usage of natural resources. Although we now blame them for the excessive use of chemicals in agriculture, issues like those in Ksargode is yet to be reported from Tamil Nadu.

            Many years later when I visited Chromepet warehouse, my assistant about whom I have mentioned above came running to me and embraced me which made me shed a few drops of tears. He told me he had married and was the proud father of a boy. He had built a  house nearby and was leading a contended life. I have very closely observed such personalities and derived precious lessons. Their innocence, dedication, simplicity, transparency etc; etc; are matchless. Let us try to be at least a miniature version of them in life.....contd

Nurungukal..2..contd..

    As an advent of Green Revolution there was a spurt in the need of warehouses managed on scientific lines. The slogan “a grain preserved is a grain produced” became true when the loss in storage was reduced in our warehouses due to the concerted efforts of the staff. More over every unit was considered as a cost centre and monthly reviews revealed the status. The transactions were transparent and systematic. The individual responsibilities were clearly defined as in Railways. Above all the top management had a clear cut and time bound vision to be executed. Thus Central Warehousing Corporation became the trusted national agency for storage. There was a setback when a parallel body was formed to accommodate the additional food grain production in the country. But it did not deter the management  to go ahead with expansion programme since the scope was very large due to diversification of its activities. Even though there was material progress, the basic function of warehouses i.e; to avoid the distress sale by the farmers was not fully complied with. The warehouses remained beyond the reach of  rural farmers. To that extent CWC is keeping away from a social commitment. On the contrary the services are exploited by a hand full of traders [middle men ]. Although this issue was discussed at various forums, no effective solution has been evolved yet. Being a farmer now, I feel that this burning issue, distress sale, among many others, has to be addressed if we intend for a sustainable agrarian economy.......contd...

Nurungukal...2..contd...

      In Chitalapakkam also there was a large rainwater collection pond. It was a mini lake.  It reminded me of the lake in Trichy about which I had described in one of my earlier posts. But as in Trichy I did not get an opportunity to enjoy the rural Tamilian  life as it had already lost it’s ethnic culture and the urbanisation process was in fast progress. Since there was no place to spent a few hours to relax in Chitalapakkam, for a young couple,  we used to head for Madras city as and when needed. We preferred Mambalam for marketing, especially vegetables and fruits and Madras city for a dine out  or movie.

       I never thought that my wife could manage the kitchen so well  even though the facilities were very limited.  My contribution in the matter of house keeping was minimum as of now. I was always tied up in the office. From the beginning of my official life in 1963 and till today  I was not able to pay 100% support to my wife in the inner details of managing our house. I feel guilty for that serious lapse. If it was official responsibilities  then, it is social commitments now which keep me away. Still she manages me and support with my actions whole hearted. That is a God given gift to me.

        I still remember the visit of my brother-in-law and one their cousin-in-law to us immediately after marriage. We had not settled down. It was a surprise visit to know the welfare of us. They stayed with us for one or two days and left in full satisfaction and also gave some cash to my wife, which we spent to purchase our LPG connection. It is the same one we use even now. Then her mother and another brother paid us a visit. It was then I paid  a visit to Tirupathy along with them. But my wife could not accompany as she was in the family way.

         We had a full life, enjoying  every bit of it. If our childhood was happy, cheer full and lively, wedlock is pleasant, sharing and contentment. It was at the peak of our enjoyment days I had to leave her back to Calicut for the delivery.  There was a sense of loss in me for a few days. I craved for their return. ....cntd...

Nurungukal...2...contd...

               Next day  when Nair came with my dinner, I was curious  to know about his landing at Chittalapakkam. When he narrated , it had all the ingredients for a film script. 

              A vociferous gang of girls used to frequent their hotel. They were from the adjacent parallel college. Their presence used to make a vibrant atmosphere and our Nair who used to be in the cash counter developed a closeness especially to a rustic girl among them. Initially it was only an infatuation, but gradually it turned out to be an ardent love affair. Almost every day they met in the nearby temple premises. She belonged to an orthodox family from Kasargode. She was sure that under no circumstances her parents and brothers would agree to their relationship. Nair consulted with the owner of the hotel who was then his conscience keeper. With his blessings they got married in the temple and got registered. For the second time in his life, Nair had to leave the camp incognito. This time he was accompanied by his life’s partner. Their destination was Tambaram where one of his friends had promised shelter to the couple.  He said that they had started the mess house with great expectations . He said his only regret was about the decision he took as a boy to abandon his sister. One day he wanted to go back,  as a successful entrepreneur, and spent a few days with her. He also told me that his wife was expecting their first child and left with a smile. I wished him luck and happiness and got engrossed in my night shift.......contd....  

Nurungukal....2...contd...

         Now Nair was in a hurry to wind up the narration. He said that after two agonising days he reached Mangalore. He knew what is hunger and thirst, which was totally  beyond his comprehension. The horror of lonely nights in the corner of Railway platforms still haunted him. On reaching Mangalore his fervent attempts to find an asylum paid result when he was engaged in a hotel for cleaning utensils. This provided him food and shelter. The owner was an Udupi Bhramin. He was benevolent and caring. Gradually Nair  won his confidence and became his most trusted assistant. He was given more responsibilities and soon attained the post of second in charge of the hotel.

       A few years passed smoothly. He aspired to make a visit to his family to know the welfare of his kid sister. But some thing, might be a sense of guilt, restrained him. And till now he could not fulfil that. Then once again fate had its own design on him. He had to leave the pasture for the sake of possessing his life’s partner with whom he had developed an affair, which he knew that the society would not approve.  He believed that their union was part of a destiny, and can be compared with any such event which you might have read in novels...contd....

Nurungukal...2....contd...

   Nair continued his story ignoring my appeal to go home. He said that he was losing ground and his boat was not drifting as he wished. He was desperate and felt lonely.His adolescent resistances against the  evil designs of his step mother lead to more and more misery. There was no other option before him but to escape from the scene and that was what he did. Leaving his kid sister to the mercy of the step mother he left home to an unknown destination.  It was an hard and risky decision to abandon our kith and kin with whom we might have developed a close knit fabric of love and affection. Many a nostalgic event might have happened which can not be easily erased from our mind.  A few more drops fell from his eyes, which for a moment made me dump and I felt a lump descending through my throat.

    With an empty pocket he boarded a train to Mangalore.  He said that the amount of agony experienced by him in that journey would washout what ever sins he would do in his life time. Many a time he was thrown out by the railway staff for ticket less travelling. It was then he knew that the money mattered every thing. And since then he was in search of earning an income of his own......contd......

Nurungukal....2..con

There was heavy transaction on that day in the warehouse. A ship containing  CARE [co op. American relief for every where ]products had berthed at Madras harbour She had to be emptied within the free time. As per our depositors request we decided to operate night shifts and I was in charge of it. It was 5 pm. I came out to take a stock of the pending loads waiting  outside the gate.  Nair was there in active conversation with one of our staff. He followed me to the office. He seldom ventured to enter the premises, except on urgent errants. As he came near to me I understood that he was not in his normal mood. The foul smell of the local brew confirmed my apprehension. I asked him why he had not returned home. He ignored my enquiry and slowly with an unsteady tongue bundled out his heart. As I had some time to spare before the commencement of the night shift I gave him a patient hearing.

  He hailed from a wealthy joint family of Kannur. His father , a martial art [kalari] specialist was powerful and arrogant. There was none to oppose him against his atrocities. Women were his weakness. Many a time he inflicted injuries on his wife and children under the influence of liquor. Nights were dreadful. It was common that he stayed away from the house for days to stray with other women. Nair’s mother was helpless. She was from a poor family with none to support her cause. She fell ill and succumbed to the torture of her husband. Nair was in 10^th std. His life became miserable when his father married another lady.  The stepmother gradually took control of the family affairs which compelled our Nair to escape from his native place, leaving his younger sister to her fate. Tears were rolling down his cheeks despite his efforts to control his emotions. I tried to console him and requested to go home. But he was reluctant  and continued after wiping out the tears....contd 

Nurung      Nurungukal...2....contd...

      For t         For the bachelors working in Central Warehousing Corporation the nearest joint for meals was the mess house run by a Nair family. Nobody knew the correct name of the Nair. Some called him Unni, others addressed him as Kutty. For the  malayalees in Chitalapakkam  they were Unniettan and Chechy. They had no children at that time. Nair’s mess provided homely food at a very law rate. Our life would have been miserable other wise.

                    They had set up this service a few years ago, to be exact from the days when the construction of the ware house was commenced. We knew nothing about from which part of Kerala they hailed. Yet it was anybody’s guess, from their slang, that they were from the northern districts. More over their recipes and tastes tallied with that of Kannur side, especially the fish preparations.

   The mess was open only till 4pm. After that Unniettan used to take an evening walk, and it was his habit  to chat with some of us in the ware house occasionally. It was during these visits he usually collected the dues or to raise a short term loan.  He would spent a few hours near the gate, invariably till the closing of our transactions. I remember it was during such an outing he opened his mind to me about his past and how he landed up in Chittalapakkam. A very interesting episode it was for a bachelor like me.........cntd

Nurungukal..2......

       Chromepet and its adjacent areas, in 1970 were set in for transformation. The process might have been commenced since the laying of a sub urban electric train service,I presume. Earlier to this so- called development activity it was an agriculture belt providing produces to Madras city. Slowly industries like the chrome leather factory emerged. Central ware house was the latest when I was there. Then came many housing schemes and the area gained the status of a satellite township.

       The ware house was located in Chitalapakkam, a few minutes walk from Chromepet railway station. In those days it had the look of a village aspiring for urbanisation. Accommodations for outsiders were very rare. Those available were built in the typical Tamilian style, having the rooms one behind the other ,connected by a common corridor. I managed to locate such a one, considering the rent which I could manage. It was a portion of a house where the owner lived. My wife had some problems to adjust with the hard water. She complained about the loss of her luxuriant plait day after day. Water was sticky and ordinary soap did not form bubbles. But over a period of time we got adjusted to the taste and hardness of the water. To our relief a water supply system was commissioned  after a few months. For shopping we depended on either Thambaram or Mambalam markets. We spent our weekends in Adayar  with my brother and family. Adayar beach provided a perfect setting for a just married couple, unlike Mrina which denied privacy. Gazing at the sun emerging slowly in the morning  from Bay of Bengal piercing a red hole on the horizon provided warmth to the onlooker. Many couples in various shapes and styles from the nearby government quarters used to enjoy a morning stroll on the silky sands, where as we could see a few fishermen heading for the shore, strenuously rowing their catamarans full with the night’s catch. 

Our routine life was interrupted when my wife showed signs of expecting our first child....contd....

Nurungukal....2...

        No other life on earth, except us I believe, celebrate marriage. Being  a social animal, humans need this event a sort of node from the society. In the case of others perhaps copulation is a process of propagation of its progeny. There are set laws of nature to be followed for this activity. But we humans in this case ignore nature and are moved by our own convenience. In my case also it happened on September third of 1970. The day I married.The day I met with the requirement of nature and society. The life after marriage has various dimensions. We are bound by customs. Social obligations and responsibilities force limitations to our activity. But of course with mutual consent marriage is a bliss. And in such a state we pursued our life after marriage ensuring a smooth sail.

         

Nurungukal...contd....

      September third was coming to an end. It was for the first time in my life to spent a whole day in such close proximity with a girl. Ever since I tied the nuptial knot she was with me. She did not speak much but her silence and looks were enough to open her mind. So was her sister and brother-in-law. Occasionally he came to me to talk in praise of her and he wished us to enjoy a very happy future. Her sister always put up a smile and rarely moved from where she was. Even her movement was unusually slow, as if not to hurt the earth. The fragrance from the jasmine  and the smell of the new silk Saree were in a way working as an aphrodisiac in me.  A synergy was mounting in us. But the members of our family as usual, never wanted to put a stop to their entertainment and it went on and on. I think it was my brother-in-law who put an end to it, perhaps after sensing my uneasiness. We were ushered into the bed room with usual acts of fun and excitement. And once inside we were taken over by natural impulses slowly slipping into oblivion.

       I was woken by a loud knock at the door next day morning.  She was in deep slumber. Watching her in that state , although resisted me from leaving the bed, the knock at the door shattered my desire, instead forced me to gently wake her up.

      As we joined the crowd we had to face a lot of routine inquisitive  remarks. Although we tried to evade them, heart of heart we were enjoying such subtle gestures. We were expected to leave for Wayanad early in the morning, to attend a reception. They had arranged a car for the journey. My sister was our representative.

      I had visited Wayanad along with my colleagues a few years ago. It was a pleasant journey especially in the new company, except for the one or two stops en route to provide comfort to some of the members. Wayanad was lush green and the nature was like a garden with full of flowers every where. The ghat road with many twists and turns wound up the hills to enter a cool and salubrious land scape. The ravines,brooks and the gushing water at many falls produced musical notes as if from  thousands of strings. We felt as if we were on he top of the world. As I looked down I saw tiny buildings on a green carpet above which white clouds floated like cotton. On the background a blue canvas hung far away completing the awesome scenery.

        The house is of typical Wayanad style, without much aeration inside, may be to protect from severe cold. It is situated on the side of a hillock facing a s wide stretch of paddy field. There was a small crowd of her relatives and some of their estate workers in waiting. A silence prevailed. Every one talked in hushed tones. It was quite a contrast to what I have experienced in Ponani on such occasions. Most of the men were basking in the sunshine, holding their hands close to the chest and keeping their back to the sun !!. The ladies remained inside and the children like any, were playing around. A few estate workers were crouching far away around a quenched fire.

          Here also there are a few paintings of their elders and the tusk of a huge elephant in the reception room.  The roof is panelled with  wood. There are two replicas of their family temples. These are the craft pieces of one of their carpenters. The surprising piece is a dining table made from a rose wood plank. The top is made out of a single piece without joints of the size of nearly 4’x6’. I was told that there were three such pieces and one was gifted to a British officer. The second one is now decorating as a swing in her sister’s house.You can very well imagine the size of the rose wood tree from which three such pieces would have been made.

          After lunch my sister returned. In the night there was a gathering of their friends and relatives. I was inquisitive about the presence of some Britishers in the crowd. They were the officers from M/S Malayalam Plantations to whom many years ago the family had leased out a chunk of their property.

              Night was getting cooler and cooler. And we spent the second night under the warmth of a woollen blanket in ecstasy and many more there after, sharing  the warmth of each other......[part one concluded]

       

Nurungukal...contd....

          We reached home in time. The pilot party consisting of brother-in-law,sister etc, had already arrived earlier and were waiting to receive us in the traditional style[aarathi etc.]. Then a session of offering milk followed. It was always customary to make fun while the milk is poured in a small spoon as the couple had to adjust their mouth to accept it when some members tried some tricks. Over and over again in every marriage such funny scenes are enacted. This ritual is enjoyed by all and taken lightheartedly. After this orientation it was time for the bride to change dress and be present before the guests.

            We had arranged a get together of our local friends and relatives in the evening.  I met many with whom I had lost contacts. Most of my classmates had already become parents. It was nice to renew the friendship. Some were new settlers in the immediate locality. Many families had moved into our village as it provided all facilities and a peace full atmosphere. All of them had come with gifts wrapped in colourful paper. The size varied depending on the intimacy. But a few,while taking leave discreetly left a brown cover containing cash  in my hand. Earlier days this custom was not prevailing in our society. Only very close relatives reciprocated each other to offer a gift or helping hand in cash. We had received a number of silver glasses and plates, a few gold coins etc as gifts to my sister.Some of the silver glasses are still available in a wooden Almira on the first floor of our house in Ponani.

          The menu was as usual a laddu, some mixture[same ingredients as of now],a ripe plantain and a piece of cake wrapped in a butter paper and of course a cup of strong tea all served in porcelain plate and cups. Paper products were not in use.

          The relatives of the bride en block paid a visit and left leaving her eldest sister and husband as care takers and escorts. Gradually the invites left one by one and it was time for the family members to engage in private conversations. The venue was taken over by my eldest brother and brother-in-law to crack jokes and prompting others to make fun. Mother was immensely happy and joined with us to enjoy every minute. It was always like that when ever we met together. But now as the quorum has shrunk we are not able to do full justice to our entertainment sessions. The major players have left us one by one  creating gaps in our family fabric. Now we are depending on the next generation to reestablish the lost grandeur of our family get together. We have not lost hope as some of them have inherited the spirit in abundance.....contd....

       

        

      

Nurungukal...contd...

           Circling the Deity, hand in hand, supporting each other, was a new experience. Her grip was gentle but firm and the occasional pressing of her thump on my right palm conveyed silent messages. Her attire was simple and elegant. She looked graceful with a bunch of fragrant jasmines and traditional ornaments. The emerald green nagapada thali was a perfect match to the Thulasi garland.In perfect harmony and rhythm we completed the rounds accompanied by our nearest relatives. The procedure connected with our nuptial ceremony step by step is a symbolic expression of entering into a silent contract of a life long partnership. An understanding of mutual respect and give and take. Even the offering of milk to the newly wedded, conveyed an assurance from the near and dear their support to the couple in their future journey.

             We were then taken to a nearby guest house where I found the other party had arranged a photo session. Fortunately a snap of that event is a precious document which we enjoy even today. Her mother an embodiment of humility stood close to us silently all the while radiating rays of love and intimacy. The way in which her eldest brother was conducting the proceedings left an impression of his meticulous planning. Even now he is the best in her family as far as the financial management is concerned.

            The guest house belonged to a very influential family in feroke. Even my mother used to say about their legacy. They owned tile factories, theatres etc. etc. Poothery family was in the high echelons of the society. Like them there were a few more names who prevailed high in the social and business world of Malabar. When I had visited Guruvayur along with my parents as a boy, I used to look at this guest house as a wonder land, comparing the facilities of the Sathram lodgings in which we used to stay. The temple, the pond ,the banyan tree, Sathrams, coffee shops, the wandering cows, the ladies with palm leaf umbrellas and of course the caprisoned elephants is the canvas I still prefer to visualise about Guruvayoor.

                     The feast was arranged in the Sathram hall. Those days there were no tables and chairs. I found many struggling to come to a squatting pose. The dishes were tasty and the size of the Guruvayur pappadam was big enough to cover many items. But I could not do justice. Leaving a big crowd to be attended to, our party left for Ponani as we were supposed to enter our house before a specified time....contd...

Nurungukal.......contd....

    The chirping of the birds and the cry of a crow from the top of a coconut tree woke me up to face the D-Day in my life, September 3^rd in 1970. My wedding day. I was unusually fresh and energetic. I had spent the previous night nurturing and fondling the sweetness of the impending episode. The rest of the family was in the process of getting ready. All were in a happy mood. Achuthan Nair as usual had prepared uppumavu and steamed plantain fruits, the easiest items on such occasions for break fast.  A few relatives whom mother had decided to accompany us and some of my old friends were ready on time. I do not remember how many were there. Some had already left by bus. The vehicle we had arranged was not very comfortable, still it was the best available in those days in Ponani. As the function had to take place inside the temple I adopted a  formal dress code. Mother preferred to stay back. My younger brother could not make to attend. The eldest was at his best in cracking jokes,were as sister and brother-in-law were busy in ushering us to the vehicle. It was a very jovial and noisy journey and we reached Guruvayoor in time. Inside the temple there was a fairly big crowd. The marriage of my bride’s cousin sister was also to place simultaneously. Her bridegroom was an engineer in telephones. He had wide circle of relatives and friends. Virtually they were a dominant group in the venue. Only my height helped me to standout. As both the pairs had to do the traditional procedures simultaneously there was some confusion, prompting the onlookers to make fun of us. But among the crowd I noticed her uncle attending the function in full divinity and silently showering best wishes to both the couples. For a few moments we were like puppets ready to comply with  any instruction.Gradually a silent urge crept in me and I was blissfully happy to hold her hand and commence a long journey. ..... contd...

                  

Nurungukal....contd...

        After a concerted search I succeeded in locating a few of my old friends in Ponani. They were very happy about the unexpected reunion and gladly accepted my invitation. A goldsmith who was my father’s trusted artisan agreed to make my wedding ring. He had shifted his place of work to the veranda of a jewellery shop. Earlier he carried on  his work in his house and extended his service only to some discrete customers. I had seen him in action many a time in our veranda, sitting flat on the floor and blowing the fire to mould intricate designs in gold. It was a common scene in our house, a few days before a marriage. Mother was very particular either to polish or remake some of her old pieces. Another occasion he showed his face was when there was an ear piercing ceremony. I ordered for a simple and traditional piece.

             Mother desired to offer a gold chain to the bride. To purchase gold ornaments in those days we depended on the jewellers in Trichur. Chakolas was the trusted choice. My sister and eldest sister-in-law accompanied me. They selected one with a pair of swans as pendant. I liked the pendant as it resembled the pair of swans floating gracefully, in a painting depicting Shakuntala lying on the nearby grass, resting her head on the left hand and writing a love letter on a lotus leaf. This piece of art was my mother’s precious collection. I thought it was the best symbol of expressing my love to the would be wife. She still  adore it. A pair of silk sarees, to be offered as pudava was also purchased, pink and off white in colour.

    The ceremony was to take place in Guruvayoor temple on 3rd September. All arrangements were completed including the to and fro transportation of relatives and close friends. There was a small gathering  on the previous day. Mother’s  old veteran cook Achuthan nair was in charge and he did his job fairly well. When compared to the celebrations of the previous day of my sister’s marriage years ago , mine lacked tempo, no doubt. Yet personally I was at the altar of joy and anxiety.....contd....

Nurungukal.......contd.....

        I proceeded on leave in the middle of October 1970. 3^rd September was my marriage day. When I reached home my mother and brothers were busy with the most difficult task in a marriage viz. to ensure that the invitations reached every body and none is left behind. But  it is my experience that one or two very intimate friends or relatives might have been left. It would be known only after the marriage and we had to cut a sorry face. Things were being moved smoothly, but I felt that the absence of father was felt in the planning process. Although he never would involve directly in the execution his influence in the procedure was very important as he would foresee each and every aspect of the event. One of my elder brothers who was actually the force behind my marriage had expressed his inability to attend due to some unavoidable reason. All others were there to make the event lively.

          I found that my absence from the home ,since the attaining of the job had created a gap in my contacts with the local friendships. Many of my childhood comrades had left the village in search of better pastures like me. I could locate none of my school mates to become the best man and I had to depend some one who was a regular visitor to our house to assist my mother.

            Due to her age mother was not in her best, while comparing her performance during my sister’s marriage. Still she was the centre of attraction, by her in born ability of hospitality. From dawn to dusk she was like a busy bee, moving around, exchanging pleasantries, while unbundled  her past.

          Some of the relatives of the bride paid visits once or twice to fine tune the procedures. They insisted to adopt some of their customs, which I knew, later were of a tradition borrowed from Palghat area, from where her father hailed. Even now I feel that the Nair families of Wayanad  can not claim a tradition of their own as they are migrants.

          During that period Kerala politics was in a turmoil. The ruling and opposition parties were involved in mud slinging each other. As a mole to the mountain a minister was alleged of a corruption charge in which unfortunately my bride’s family was also alleged to have involved. But after a hectic battle in the court of law the cloud was cleard. Anyway after marriage I heard very interesting  versions of the episode which I feel now, can be moulded into a TV serial !!. But I do not venture to do it as it can rupture a hard earned harmony and stimulate a family feud.

           The upheaval of a movement against the atrocities inflicted by some of the feudal barons was another issue to be tackled. Their activities were creating a horror in the social life of the state and it made ripples in the political circles. There was a resistance in the minds of the public against such blood sheds as it was clear violation of the accepted principles of democracy and law of the land to settle a social issue. Soon the movement lost momentum and fizzled out. But it was an eye opener and found results later, although there are vibrant issues still to be resolved.......contd....

Nurungukal...contd...

      It was August 1970. My bachelor days were coming to an end. Mother had informed that the marriage had been fixed on 3^rd September. As per the wish of the bride’s family it had to be solemnised at Guruvayoor Temple. Somehow I managed to hire a small portion of a house near to the warehouse. Proximity to my office and availability of potable water were my priorities. My leave was sanctioned. I took a stock of the days I spent in Madras as a free bird. I had a good time. Madras had facilities for the rich to be lavish and the poor to be frugal and satisfied and the extravagant to be popper in no time.

      Very often I used to  enjoy an evening with my friend Rajappan  to have a dinner in Bhuhari hotel. They served food during night in your car . Crisply uniformed waiters would be ready at your service no sooner the car is parked. A hot plait of biriyani or aappam with varuval  was any gourmets choice. To top up a few sips of sulaimani tea. Then a Hollywood movie in Saphire was our usual routine. Very rarely if  I had stayed back in the lodge for some reason we would take a lunch in MLA hostel  canteen which was very famous for Chetinad preparations. Rajappan had kept some of the waiters there in his good books by offering lavish tips and we always received a special attention. The excitement you attain by squeezing through the street in front of Mambalam electric train station to make a purchase of choice mangos or rasthali plantain fruits is beyond description. It is were your bargaining capacity is tested. The  call of the hawkers had a strange rhythm when shouting the price of their goods[ pathu rupaik ettu, ettu pathurupaiku, alternatively shouted by a pair of sales men] The entire stretch of the street would be like a busy bee hotel , where many would be wandering up and down just to derive a pleasure of innocent or intentional collisions, while others, mainly commuters and house wives, were engaged in choosing their articles. Baniyans and hand kerchiefs from Thirupur mills were another popular items sold here.

               Once in a way I used to spent a few hours to loiter around Spencer’s, British council library and St. Theresa’s college. Spencer’s was a favourite shopping centre for the elite where select products at premium price were sold. But their baked items were the best choice even for the middle income groups. They used to be sold like hot cakes. St. Theresa’s of course represented the tradition and culture of Tamil Nadu. British Council library provided everything for a connoisseur, whether it is literature or art. The towering LIC building always amazed me and I used to wonder the farsightedness of its original builder. There were many more things about Madras which lay close to my heart. The politicians with great literary acumen and their capacity to hold a huge crowd spellbound for hours at the tip of their tongue, deliberating in chaste Tamil. The movie stars who could attract thousands as their fans.The industrial advancement  built up on the sweat and blood of a committed work force and the efforts of intelligent entrepreneurs. But in spite of all these I used to worry why Kuvam river and the slums on her banks remained as an eye sore on a land scape which had all the potential for a heaven on earth. I hope it might have all changed by now........contd.........

           

Nurungukal....contd....

      I had visited Madras harbour once or twice. Even had a chance to get into a cargo ship.It was a nice experience. We were showered with hospitality. Even offered hot drinks which we politely refused as we were on duty. The ambiance inside the ship was that of a star hotel. The food was excellent and a few dishes were new to our taste. It was only a courtesy visit. As we were about to leave the harbour, somebody showed me the damage inflicted by Emdon, the most dreaded and elusive submarine of the German navy during second world war. I doubt the German’s target would have been Sigapore and their deep intrusion into Bay of Bengal to hit Madras Harbour was a mistake. I tried to unwind some the scenes from war time movies, which was once my craze. Another elusive fighter was Rommel the desert rat.

          My friend Rajappan who was an upcoming painting contractor and me used to enjoy an evening on all most all Sundays on the silky sands of Marina. In Oxford dictionary the word Marina meant a harbour for yachts. Perhaps many years ago the beach would have been a  favourite port in the maritime map of the  traders from other continents. But for Italians the word meant beautiful. I leaned this when I met an Italian girl very recently in Wayanad. Her name was Marina. The roar emanating from the fathoms of the bay and the tranquil carpet of smooth crystalline sand spread delicately as if to induce a mermaid to the shore always made ripples in me. Rows and rows of kattumaram waiting for their next fishing spree lay motionless like an school of sea lions migrated from Pacific ocean. I used to wonder about the safety of the fisher men who embark upon their dangerous journey far in to the sea to make a living, on a few logs bound together while we derive a pleasure in bargaining with a fisher women to reduce the price unaware of the dangerous task behind the catch.

               A slow walk in the water when the water slide back into the sea can tickle your bare feet by the receding sand particles, while healing the bruises. The lengthening shadows reaching into the sea as the sun descends in your back, weaving  patterns on the sand gave a signal to leave. But to us it was the time to grab a cone of chundel  from the old woman and say ‘till we meet again’...........contd.....

Nurungukal....contd....

       Madras now Chennai ,to me was a place of many exclusive and unique geographical indicators. Madras central railway station still remains as a monument of colonial rule. It has a resemblance to such an edifice in London. I used to look in wonder at the clock on the top which is very much similar to a tilak. And before it, lay the Mount road [Anna Salai]stretching like a python trying to reach the St.Thomas Mount. The station itself was to me, with its many terminals resting on different platforms like the  many headed snakes in our mythology. Higgin Bothoms at the exit  ready to quench the thirst of any voracious reader can not resist you from picking up a book or two or at least a daily or weekly. I always used to dig for a popular  novel if not a latest edition of The Illustrated Weekly.

                As you come out a crowd of rickshaw pullers would swarm you and one of them would eventually grab your luggage and deposit you in his rikshaw.The slang in which they talk is typical to Madras city , more or less like the way M.R.RADHA spoke. On the way to my destination I enjoyed to engage in  conversation with  them mainly on politics and cinema. Majority of them were fans of MGR.No traffic rules were applicable to them and they would take you through the crowd at brake neck speed swaying on the pedals. Most of them wore a pant and sleeveless baniyan with a red hand kerchief tied round their neck. If your are not tactful they would squeeze out a chunk as fare. It is up to you to be friendly on the way and to get a fair deal at the end.

       Any body who went on leave, it was a practise to make a visit to the Moor Market which stood majestically near  Madras Central.They were like sisters in embrace. A heritage lost for the sake of convenience.Now it has become a foregone nostalgia. It was said that every thing from pin to plane were available there and where your capacity to negotiate was tested........contd....

Nurungukal....contd....

     Chrompet warehouse was our flag ship. We attained that status due to the hard work of a bunch of dedicated staff. Many Americans  experts had visited the warehouse to examine the condition of storage of the CARE products and had expressed their appreciation. Whenever a bulk customer sought our facility it was the practise of the management to show the performance of the warehouse. Madras Fertilisers, a venture in collaboration with a USA firm, when it set up a plant in Madras decided to utilise the services of Central Warehousing Corporation after evaluating the working of Chromepet warehouse. Later on it became one of our prestigious operations through out the country.

   The volume of traffic became more and more and we were forced to extend our service even during night. It was a real challenge to our efficiency. Most of the supervisory staff were married persons and thus were reluctant to take up night shifts. Ultimately the bachelors were asked to shoulder the burden. It was not new to me, as I had managed night duties while working in Railways. In fact I enjoyed it because it was less tiresome, considering the day time heat of Madras. Another reason for others to avoid night shifts was that there was a strong belief that the premise was  haunted. Some of our watch men had reported their encounters with an unidentified figure moving around, especially at the far end of the compound which was a grave yard before we acquired it. The presence of aavi in the form of a huge figure fully covered with a black blanket was confirmed on many occasions. Out of fear our watch men even ventured to damage the punch clocks of such locations, to avoid cross checking of their failure to make rounds!!

           It was on a night shift I had to face an incident which virtually demolished the theory of the presence of the hoary aavi. We were receiving imported wheat from Madras harbour. I was in charge of night shift. The unloading was in the last godown at the far end corner of the compound. There were three or four points at which the unloading were in progress. I was watching the progress from a corner where the illumination had snapped a while ago. Usually the men used to sing a tune in loud voice to free from the tiredness while un loading. It was going on in high pitch and I was engrossed in it. All on a sudden a black figure producing a hoary sound knocked me down and tried to vanish into the adjacent bush. But I was agile and the sports man in me could make a unexpected quick jump and catch it. It was struggling to get released. But my grip was firm enough to bring it down to earth. I shouted for help and a few came running to over power the strange object. It got up and started jumping and pronouncing something in Tamil repeatedly in a strange sound. The black cloth  had fallen. She was none other than one of our sweeper women in hysteria and seized by some unseen force. I had in my native place Ponani come across with such incidents during temple festivals when the oracles dance to the tune of drum beats in a particular rhythm. When ever any women  from the crowd attempt to act similarly the oracle would subdue them catching by the hair. I used the same  and she was relieved off from her fierce condition.

  That incident prompted us for a critical analysis and gave the correct clues for the shortages of stocks while unloading in some remote godowns and the scaring by the unknown black figure. Any how we got rid of the fear of night watch men and our punch clocks resumed working there after without fail.....contd.........

Nurungukal....contd....

     Some persons will never fade away from your memory. Ramesh was one such for me. It was a busy day in the warehouse. I was just preparing to go to my assigned godown when my sight fell on a young man climbing the steps. He was hesitant and moved towards me and wanted to know where he should report. He spoke English in a typical north Malabar slang and I could easily make out from where he hailed. He walked with a slight jerk and a bend to the right. Looked smart in his white full sleeves shirt, neatly tucked in the black pants. I was always fascinated by a crisp attire. I showed him the way to the office and left him to take care of himself. After a few minutes when I returned, he was  in our room preparing the joining report. When he attempted to resume the conversation with me, again in the distorted slang  I put him at ease by revealing my mother tongue. A sign of relief prevailed on his face. He had just passed out from Guruvayurappan College with a degree in science. It was his first job. A native of Dharmadam , near to Tellichery. Our routine tea was served at eleven. By that time he had completed the initial formalities of joining the post.  It was time for me to accompany the in charge of the warehouse Mr. Rajaram on his daily inspection of the activities in the various points. He told me about the new hand and to provide him with the initial orientation about our functioning.

                 Usually any new comer was taken to the laboratory to have acquaintance with various scientific aspects of warehousing. Mr. Decruze was in charge of the lab. He was a bundle of energy although puny in stature. I had accompanied him on many Sundays to Guindy race course. Horse race was his craze. He knew every thing about horses and jockeys. I do not know whether he had won any race or not.  If you can resist spending money on betting, I felt glorious to enjoy a day with jockeys, bookies, immaculately dressed gentlemen and good looking ladies , sipping a cool drink or licking an ice cream. For a few hours you would feel as if you were in a Royal turf. But the bad side of it is the misery of the families when the bread earner loose chunk of his income on betting again and again. The tendency is like a fall in a whirlpool from which no one can escape. It will only take you into the fathoms. Many years after when I met him he was still fondling the Guindy feelings.

           My relationship with Ramesh became more and more intimate. Till my marriage we shared a room in Nadar’Garden. A simple man without a passion to climb up the ladder . I learnt that he had lost his mother when he was a kid and his father was everything for him there after. He used to say that his father was like a playmate enjoying in each others pranks. We had spent many an evening in the dark cool corner of some joints in Madras sipping pitchers of beer. He was very talkative when the drink took the reigns. In such moments we used to invariably touch on the tender, nostalgic days of our childhood. He could not recollect much about his mother. It was his father who prevailed in him like a companion. Even after my marriage we continued to meet . When ever I touched upon his marriage he would evade it by changing the subject. But I could make out that there was a love affair in his life which he failed to culminate into nuptial. Perhaps he was nurturing its tender feelings, deep in his heart to derive a secret pleasure. Years later, after my retirement when I met him in Calicut he looked haggard. Then he told me about the unexpected demise of his father and the void it had thrust upon him. He had already become an addict to alcohol. The agony that he contained in him was visible in his un kept hair, beard, not to speak of the dress. He looked much older and emaciated. I could not bear the sight. But  not even for once he touched on his plight and left me after a few minutes of sharing old thoughts. This time his company did not trigger any feelings, but left me perplexed. I never thought that it would have been our last meeting..contd....