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....