Nurungukal...contd...

     The next day at the SSB camp it was very interesting and adventurous.After an initial briefing we were asked to perform many tasks, to test our physical abilities. Some of them were individual and others as a team. In some we were asked to lead a team to carryout some events similar to a military operation. Those who had some coaching or previous experience managed well. In my case I had to purely depend on the games and frolics during my school days. For example the swinging during thiruvathira festival along with the children helped me to climb on a rope or pass through a rubber tyre hung from the branch of a tall tree. Similarly to climb a wall was easier to me as it was a regular fun as a boy to jump a wall to pick up mangoes from others compound !. But my performance to carryout a task as a team leader in many cases were not up to the mark.  In one case I remember I was asked to use the team to take a big barrel from one position to a far off post without touching some areas marked as out of bonds, with in a specified time.I failed to finish in time. Such events actually tested how best we use man power and our ability to plan,to accomplish a given job in an emergent situation.

    Next day it was to assess your public speaking qualities. We had to address a group extempore on a subject. Another was to express your opinion on a given subject in a group discussion.. A few dominated the discussion with out allowing others to speak. But the question was how effectively we drove the points. Here I found many were silent. Most interesting in this category was how you established your point of view on an issue. I remember the issue  before our group was who should be punished whether the person accepting a bribe or the one who offered it. My argument was that the one who accepted the bribe was the guilty, because he is supposed to be the guardian of justice. We passed through many such tests and on the final day it was announced who were selected for the medical test. From our batch only two were lucky and one was an NCC officer and the other was a boy from Delhi who had under gone some coaching camps.

          Although I was not successful, the things I managed to learn from the camp were very valuable. It gave me chance to understand my plus and minus points. It was an eve opener. To live as an officer in a camp like that was blissful. I enjoyed the whole episode and bid good bye to it carrying with me a message ,....to reach excellence in what ever job we are in it needs hard work and an organised mind set......contd

Nurungukal...contd...

      It was dinner time in the SSB camp and all of us were directed to assemble in he dinning hall. It was fairly big. All the candidates sat around a long dinning table. The settings on the table with the china plates, forks, spoons etc made me a little bit nervous. Never in my life before I have eaten food in such an alien world !!. More over my friend had cautioned me that every movement will be closely  watched to assess our reactions. I was totally out of context. A set of uniformed bearers marched in to serve the food. A thick fluid resembling my favourite rice porridge was the first to come in bowls. It was sandwiched on the table with a set spoons in different sizes, a fork and a knife !. On the table there were some small porcelain mugs filled with green and black liquids. A few pieces of crisp bread pieces stared at me . Then all on a sudden a stubborn voice from no where alerted us “yes  gentle men please enjoy your dinner...”. I looked to the one next to me and he was  already  in action. Then the hunger in me directed to manage the situation  in my traditional way.Chappathies and many  dishes in succession followed and I stuffed all of them with out hesitation come what may, totally ignoring the unknown eye on me. When finished I looked around. A few of them were wiping their lips with a piece of cloth, which was untouched by me. Later I knew  that it would have been spread on the lap. But I felt no need of it ,even during my later life, as I had already been trained in my childhood to take kanhi with a plavila by a jerk, from a plate, squatting on the floor. Never it had missed the target!. When I was about to leave, the one siting on my right gestured to wait. It was time for the deserts. After a sumptuous dinner we retired for the day.

           Even now I wonder, why we follow a tradition mistakenly branded as sophisticated. Many may disagree, yet, let us try to recognise our culture and uphold it before the world. Take lessons from China and Japan.........contd.... 

Nurubgukal....contd...

     I was in search of a better placement.The training as an NCC cadet had kindled my intention to join Indian army. An opportunity came when the army decided to recruit officers in an emergency quota when the war broke out in one of our borders.Some how I managed to pass through the written examination and a preliminary test.  I had difficulty in dealing English fluently. Even now I am not satisfied with my grammar. When I went through a guide to face the SSB[service selection board] ordeal my hope started withering. One of my friends in Railway who had earlier an experience in SSB tried to pass on what ever he knew about it. His tips helped me develop a strategy . The duration of the test was seven days in the army selection board in Bangalore city.

          There was an army warrant to travel by train in second class. And from that moment onwards the candidates were treated as officers. I could feel a sense of temporary elevation in my status.There after every movement was in military precision. The order stipulated the steps to be taken with meticulous details. It had even mentioned about the dress code for each occasion. With much difficulty I managed to comply with them.The men at the railway out post took us to the camp and in batches the candidates were accommodated in different rooms. There were two or three Malayalees in my batch and the rest were North Indians. A JCO was in charge to guide and he remained with us till we left the camp....contd... 

Nurungukal....contd...

    She was living in a dilapidated hut near to my quarters. But our first meeting was when I was on duty. As I was issuing tickets one day I heard a giggle from behind. She was there in a red pavadai smiling at me. She was beautiful,sprightly with curly hair, a little dark in colour. She remained there for a while looking fascinatingly the way I was punching the tickets and then vanished. I was curious and soon collected details about her. She was my neighbour. Deserted by her parents she lived with her grandmother who was a widow. The old lady found a living by selling mainly ground nuts, vegetables etc. From morning to late evening.She would sit under the shadow of a Neem tree, near to the station selling her merchandise. Many purchased her goods out of sympathy or considering her fight against destiny. I have seen many others of similar fate in the streets crying for alms. The girl’s name was Kanmani. She will be around this old woman,either playing or slumbering under the shadow, enjoying a cool breeze. There was no question of her attending an school as there was none nearby.

  As the old woman was not having any teeth she used to pound the tobacco in a small oral of the size of a small udukku before chewing. The movement of her lips going up and down on a wrinkled face was incessant and stops only while eating or drinking. The food she and her granddaughter  shared was a preparation of ragi known as kuzhu  in that area. After the lunch both enjoyed a siesta huddling together. A scene which can be depicted as a symbol of caring each other.

   I made friendship with this pair. Once in a way purchased a few items from them. Got in conversation with Kanmani. She was intelligent and gave her some books or presents. Some times Mamy would open her heart and one or two drops of tears would roll down through the wrinkles. Immediately she would get composed as if one should not be succumbed to fate. She lost her sun in a liquor tragedy and his wife put an end to her life out of desperation. She used to tell me both incidents were actions against nature. She believed in an invincible power and not in blind worship.

    I do not know where Kanmani is now. But in me a picture still persists, a giggling  girl leaning on the Neem tree with her hands behind showing her little teeth. She was just six years at that time.....contd

Nurungukal...contd...

    There were two or three signal men in the station. Among them Ponnettan was my best friend. He was at the verge of retirement. Still looked healthy. He hailed from Palghat. Could handle Tamil very well. Fair in complexion, he was of medium height. I have never seen him in a bad mood. He took every odd  jovially and made his presence felt in any company he was. He reminded me of one of my relatives in Ponnani, about whom I had made a post in this media. He lived in a quarter adjacent to mine.  When on evening duty he reported sharp by 4 pm. I used to watch the way he polished each and every signal lamp with braszo. The lamps were made of bras and after his touch they will glitter like gold. Even at that age he climbed each and every post to place the lamp adjusting the flame correctly. The green light is emitted when rays of the yellow flame passes through the blue glass of the signals.When there was gap of time in between trains he would come to the station to exchange pleasantries. We longed for his company as the conversation would touch upon at least once on his past life. But never he divulged the odds he surmounted. He was from a rich family but lost every thing due to the bad company his father had. He advised me always to be disciplined. Once in a way we went to the town which was a few miles away, on foot,usually when he was on off duty. On the way he would take excuse  for a few minutes to visit a toddy shop. But I have never seen him crossing the limits. When the brew gradually takes on him  he would melodiously recite his favourite lines from Ramanan...kananachayayil adu mekkan............. or sing a song from neelakuyil.....manennum vilikkilla.....etc. etc.After enjoying a non veg. dinner we would return home through the winding mud road amidst a vast stretch of sugar cane field. Ponnettan would be incessantly talking on all and sundry and I followed him, enjoying the blabbermouth. Occasionally the howl of a fox or croaking of a frog  or the ear piercing creaking sound of  crickets interrupted. Batches of glow worms on the wayside trees illuminated our path. On one occasion we even encountered a big cobra. The animal was threateningly obstructing our way and Ponnettan’s stamping on the earth made it move out. To add punch to our walk rarely some whispers and giggles from the cane bushes caressed my senses, but Ponnettan used to gesture not to take cognizance of them.

    It is from such simple persons I have taken good lessons. Such company  always set directions, because they evolved from true friendship. Where ever he is now, in what ever form might be Ponnettan will remain close to my heart......contd

Nurungukal...contd..

    Villagers from far and near attended the Temple festival in large numbers.Railways made special arrangements to serve the influx of passengers. Extra counters to issue tickets were put up. Even special trains were run on the main day.

     It was a custom and a sort of offering to take small processions in each hamlet, accompanying an oracle[poosari]. One or two drum beaters, a pipe player and a few ladies carrying small bras vessels decorated with neem and mango leaves on their heads would lead the procession ,chanting praise of the deity. All of them including the poosari were smeared with turmeric powder. The poosari will be in a trance chewing a preparation of bengal gram. He will move in rhythm to the tune of the beating of the drum and precariously balancing a bigger bras pot with neem leaves.  Some team came with many other players carrying  kavadi or attractive karagams. I was told that the festival was mainly to bless the married women with a child. And so in each procession there used to be some women seeking mother hood. On the final day when these processions reach the temple the poosarys  who are in trance would bless the women and it was their belief that their prayers would be fulfilled by the Amman.

       The pulling of the Chariot was an event to watch. Almost all partook. The deity would be placed on a decorated pedestal on the chariot and prasadam would be thrown to the crowd. There used to be a rush to catch it. Chanting of mantras, beatings of drums, the sound of bugle and pipes and the shouting of the devotes would make the atmosphere enchanting. As the illuminated Chariot move slowly against the setting sun and reach the entrance of the temple the crescendo would raise then die gradually showering joy to the onlooker which can not be described in words but has to be experienced.. contd...

Nurungukal...contd..

     My days in Aruvankad was abruptly put to an end by a transfer to a way side station near to Coimbatore. As I climbed down the salubrious Nilgiris I felt my thoughts settling down to make a recap and felt bad about the loss.

       It was with great difficulty I gradually compromised with the new surroundings. I was in a village a typical Tamilian village.  The station master and the railway staff were considered as a class above the rest of the population. It was a master servant relationship. May be the out come of a colonial rule. No other office functioned nearby. The neighbourhood consisted of a row of thatched sheds where the agricultural labourers resided. No schools or hospital was in the vicinity. When ever a steam engine stopped, the women swarmed it with earthen pots to collect drinking water. They considered the engine staff as their saviours and addressed them ayya, ayya to show mercy. The entire agricultural land belonged to a few. They moved around in bullock carts and their youngsters in bullet motor cycles. The village folks spoke showing great respect [vango, pongo, amango ]. Their each sentence ended in ngo  considering every body as their elders. Samy was another word used  intermittently in each sentence.

   On shanty days the station premises will be vibrant with traders and hawkers. The station will be virtually in siege by batches of ladies chartering loudly, carrying their bamboo baskets on their hips with full of vegetables for sale.

    On both sides of the main street temporary shelters would be put up displaying the merchandise. Most of such shops would be managed by ladies shouting at the top of their throat to draw your attention. At the far end of the street their was the temple with a very high gopuram. Adjacent to which one can see the wooden chariot which will be dragged on the yearly pooja. The entire village partook to pull the chariot as an offering..contd....

       

Nurungukal...contd...

   I nurture many nostalgic memories of my days in Nilgiris.Th vast stretches of meadows where large ponies and cows graced in style.The not so known brooks, flowing through the under growths making ticklish mummers and the woods reminding one the words of Robert frost. The drops of morning dew dangling at the tip of the leaves like crystal beads. The ecstasy of cool breeze carrying the fragrance of eucalyptus.  Bunches of rose and  rare flowers in different colours and  aroma triggering your senses. The sight of batches  of damsels moving in rhythm through the tea bushes carrying baskets of their toil. A glimpse of a Thoda family basking in the sun in their traditional clothes and others fully covered with warm clothing. Elders warming their body around a borne fire while the flames lick the air.The school children hurrying in their smart uniforms in vociferous dialogues. And many other sights made me  feel like living in a fantasy world. But Nilgiris was at the verge of a plunder to exploit her limitless potential in furthering tourism.

   When I was ordered to move to plains I left a bit of my heart there to come back if destiny would allow and I accomplished it through the marriage of my daughter to a boy from a family settled in Coonoor. Unfortunately Nilgiris have now lost her good old charm. I hope that one day she will regain the past glory to establish once again  that she is the queen of the hill stations...contd...

Nurungukal...contd...

   I was surprised to get a transfer to Aruvangad and the same time happy. I loved Nilgiris. I had been there once on a vacation tour to witness the Horse race. Aruvangad a small station mainly served the needs of the Cordite factory. At that time there were only one or two passenger trains running in between Ooty and Metupalayam. A goods rake once in a way serviced the needs of the cordite factory on demand.

   I was quite aware of the cold conditions and was prepared to meet it. My sister was in Coimbatore. Her husband was a senior officer in the marketing section of Coffee Board. They were in Simla a few years ago. My brother in law was having number of woollen pants and coats. She offered a pair to combat the cool climate of Nilgiris and knowing my inability to purchase one. But  I had to spend a few rupees to make it fit to my slim body. Any way it helped me to walk in style and warm. The station was built in granite and merged with the surroundings in style. With cast iron pillars and a fire place it resembled a colonial structure, no doubt.

   I was posted in the capacity of a goods clerk, but in practise I was all in all, as the station master,  an old veteran very cunningly used my enthusiasm to his advantage.  Yet it provided me enough experience to manage situations efficiently.

  The narrow gauge rail, having a toothed line in between to facilitate safe climb and descent was similar to that in Switzerland. Even the engine was brought from there, many years ago by the British. The engine moved very cautiously clutching on the teeth and I had seen many passengers climbing into the compartments while it was running. The journey in it was so entertaining and we felt as if we are in a wonder land!. Each compartment was controlled by a brake man. During rainy season the traffic used to be disrupted due to land slides. Station staff collected coal from the engine to prepare food.Some times the driver even obliged us with hot water from the engine.

   When there is no work I used to enjoy the scenery far beyond the misty mountains, sitting on a wooden bench and sipping hot Nilgiri tea. There is nothing to beat that joy. The fragrance form the eucalyptus trees filled the air. It was my habit it take deep breaths. It kept you healthy and fresh.               Many Anglo Indian families lived nearby. They were friendly and sportive. On Sundays they  went in small batches to attend the Mass. They had to cross the platform and it was my pleasure to exchange pleasantries. On festival days they even offered us home made cake and wine. A happy go lucky lot..........contd.... 

Nurungukal [varthamanam]...

   Let me through varthamanam share with you some of my thoughts on recent events.

  I had no intention to attend this marriage. But when the bride groom’s father invited me on phone late at night just a few days ago I was not able to deny him. I clubbed the programme to fulfil a long standing invitation to visit my brother in law who was staying in the same city where the marriage was going to be hosted. Another reason was to meet some scientists in the Dairy science institute.

  The function was arranged in one of the most expensive halls in the city, a symbol of lavish spending. The main building stood majestically at the centre of a few acres of land on the national highway. It provided ample space for parking any number of vehicles. As my brother’s in law car reached the entrance we were received by a uniformed security personnel. The lobby was spacious and decorated in a typical Kerala format, with lighted lamps, flower designs resembling our Onam celebrations. Beautiful girls attired in set mundu in NAMASTHE  pose throwing smiles gestured us to move forward and to sip a welcome drink which was spread in wine glasses on a high table. The drink in different colours and formulations watered my mouth and I did not think twice to down one or two. Slowly and with some acquired amount of dignity we moved to the auditorium and was seated in chairs. Then the flow of other guests , each one projecting their identity commenced and gradually the seats were all occupied. But many of them moved around in style, especially the ladies exchanging pleasantries. The on looker found it hard to take away his eyes from them. The hall was filled with an enchanting aroma of fresh textiles and various perfumes of foreign origin.  Some eminent persons accompanied by a few came and were immediately  seated along with others of same feather.

    I was trying to just recapture the scenes from the marriage function of my sister happened  a few decades ago.  I found that the essential  details are all same , only the context has changed and every thing was in tune with the passing of time. The only difference was that our participation was minimised as the event manager was the hero of the function and we played the role of a well wisher.I enjoyed the the ease at which we were monitored by an unknown hand, otherwise the whole show would have crumbled into utter chaos.

  The guests were from different walks of life. Each had to be treated appropriately. The protocol is to be maintained in each case. More over the present society demands certain standards in conducting such events.

   The bride and the groom were fully aware of their role and ushered the guests in appropriate manner. They were not the shy and hesitant type. They withstood the pressure of entertaining the whole crowd one by one or in batches flamboyantly.

  I took the opportunity to greet the VIPs which was an added attraction of the event to me. Altogether  I rate the event ten on ten.

I left the city after fully enjoying the hospitality of my brother in law and his wife’s family with a promise to return at the next opportunity.

Nurungukal...contd..

  I was shifted from the goods yard to the passenger section. In goods yard we dealt mainly with lifeless  materials.  Very rarely some live stock waggons arrived mostly when some circus companies moved  from one station to another. During season a few horse waggons to Ooty were also dealt. But passenger section, other than parcel booking was totally different, where human being of varied temperament are to be handled. It is a delicate job if one had to be success full. There were many situations in my carrier in which I was left at the mercy of the costumer. One naval officer virtually attempted to physically handle me. I escaped from his wrath because of the timely intervention of my senior.He stamped out of the room like a bull in a stampede. In another case it was for tendering the correct change and that too when the train was about to leave. I had to forsake some amount to make the passenger leave the counter. But some of my fellow clerks used to earn a few rupees during rush hours without any problems. There were many who appreciated the dedication of the staff when they were helped in difficult situations. One such incident is still green in my memory. It was when we recovered a lost child of a young mother. The boy had slipped out of her clutches when the express train arrived on the platform and the mother was in a frenzy. We immediately requested the guard to hold the train for a while and went in search of the boy. Fortunately we located him sitting on a box in a corner and was able to rejoin them. The mother was so happy and was even prepared to pay for this service which we politely denied.

  If you watch the activities in a railway platform it is just like the gathering of busy bees when there is a good blossom on a tree. They swarm in batches, stay for a while and vacate. Between the arrival and departure of the train the activity on the platform will be busy and afterwards it is deserted.

   I always had a fascination to watch the Anglo Indian guards and station masters. In those days all important trains and stations were managed by them. Immaculately dressed, they reminded me of some characters of the Hollywood movies on second world war. So was the engine drivers of some express trains especially that of  Madras Mail. The steam engine  maintained in perfect condition with all the braze and copper surfaces glistening and even the signal lamp will strike your eyes.  Also it was delight full to watch the engine boy collecting the pouch with dexterity while passing through a station at great speed and that too in night. When I was working in a way side station it was a regular sight. Every thing connected with the safe running of trains viz. Block machine, extracting of the token,setting of points for change of the lines and signal setting etc. were great events for me. Every activity were carried out with precision, like the working of a well oiled machine. Much progress have been made in railways after the advent of modern technology, still I love the old system, may be I am a little bit conservative in this aspect......contd...