NURUNGUKAL….

    Great calamities fall on you once in a lifetime. The deluge in August 2018 was one such. It occurred suddenly, unexpectedly without any warning. A rare phenomenon, but this time it was the ultimate result of tampering our Mother nature for the pleasure of human beings. It is more or less an alarm to stop the plunder. If the victims ignore the warning more disaster is in store.

     Any way, it is nearly two and half month since all of us experienced the disaster. Even now we are struggling to tide over the aftermath. May be that we might have managed to develop a frame work for ameliorating the loss. But it is in the administrative or official domain, the process is still shy to reach the grass root.

    But amidst this dark clouds there seems to be a beacon imparting a ray of warmth to the dairy farmers. It is emanating from a solo performer. She is none other than our energetic dairy extension officer Madam Harsha. She has given soucur to many a farmer, by gifting cows free of cost. “Donate a cow” is a benevolent gesture  developed in her young mind, prompting many from different walks of life, which by now has become our hope. This young officer has shown her merit in conceiving and implementing a project by cost consciousness and constant awareness of her social responsibilities. I hope that this may be another golden feather in her meritorious service and many more to add in future. Madam, proceed undeterred in your path, with more vigour and vision, because you are a winner always …………

-Nurungukal….

         On the eighth of August 2018 it was pouring down ever since morning in cats and dogs. I thought the furry of south west monsoon is in its peak this season. By noon it gathered intensity and made me apprehensive of an impending threat. Still a wish full thinking made me to rule out a danger. By evening the rain became scattered and by night fall I ensured that the water which was stagnating in my courtyard has lowered , almost drained out. There was no warning about any untoward happenings from any corner and we after finishing our usual T.V programme called it a day and went to sleep.

        I was jerked out of sleep by the incessant ringing of my mobile. It was my neighbour. There was a heavy sound of water gushing from the roof and I knew that the rain has intensified. It was an alarm call to tell me that water is raising all around and it has entered the lower portion of his house. The tone and frenzy in his voice pulled me out of bed. When I came out to see what is happening , water has already reached our front door step and it was flooding all around. I rushed back to wake up my wife who was in deep slumber. Some of my  property documents which I had left on the table last  night were collected and deposited them on the top of an almira. After collecting my mobile and money purse, grabbed my wife and was virtually ran out of the house after locking the front door. Some of the neighbourhood youngsters had already gathered in front of the house and were ready to help us escape from the situation. They even volunteered to carry us through the water, which by that time had risen knee high. In the melee we even forgot to take out our car which eventually was drowned and damaged. But the youngsters managed to to take our cows to a safer place, and rescued them.

           I remember that in our childhood we had enjoyed playing in the rising flood water which very often reached to embrace the last steps of our gate in every season. Those days it was a fun for us to enjoy the frothy muddy water flowing to find its level in the distant sea at great speed. Lot of youngsters used to play boats made out of banana stalks and some even ventured to try big cauldrons.

          My wife was having problems to negotiate through the gushing water to reach the house of my brother-in-law which was fortunately on an elevated hillock. Even today I shudder to think of the episode which we had to encounter in our life  that day and often wonder now, was it the same house which we had to leave seeking a shelter else where.  I remember my mother narrating a similar incident in her childhood, when many of our distant relatives had to take refuge in our Tharavad house in Ponnani for days. I presume it might have happened in 1924 when a similar situation occurred throughout in Kerala. 

         My house from which I had to escape was built two feet higher than the water level of the flood which devoured many parts of Wayanad in 1961. This time the level was four feet above that. Till next day morning the rain continued, although the intensity was reduced gradually.  

         Next dayby evening I ventured to visit my abandoned House, by then the water slowly started receding. The unprecedented rain has engulfed the whole area .Many discouraged me from the attempt. Still I was curious about my house and the safety of the things inside. As I waded through the murky water I felt the enormity of the damage caused with in a matter of few hours.

        All the youngsters in the locality were ready to extend a helping hand to any one. Almost all the houses were inundated and many were marooned. A unit of the fire force was plying hither tither to collect the isolated souls. Old, sick, handicapped, and even a pregnant lady was rescued by them. Later I heard that the lady delivered immediately after reaching the hospital. The land slide and a huge rock which descended from the nearby hill demolished four houses in a row. Two small children were extricated from the debris miraculously and another family escaped sure death seconds before the earth covered their house. If the huge piece of rock which rolled down along with the soil had not fell flat on the road, it would have been a greater calamity.

        It was with great anxiety I opened my front door as I was sure the damage was certain inside. The water level was about my hip level.Nothing was in its place. It was total chaos. Fridge was floating, even the double coat was lying tilted in a corner. T.V., Computer, book shelf, nothing was left. Water has entered every almira. It was difficult to walk as the sticky silt has settled all over.I could not stand any more and left the house carrying an image which will never fade away. I stood there for a while or two, slowly walked back,trying to chalk out a retrieval plan and consoling that our loss would be much less significant when compared to what has happened to those who are lesfortunate………..and many a miles to go before I sleep.....

     

The unexpected visit of a batch of students from the Mannuthy dairy science college a few days ago gave me an exposure on the way our new generation view things. As I was narrating the step by step progress of our milk society, in particular and our concern in general on the future course of responsibility they should shoulder on alleviating field problems,  I noticed in them a sense of seriousness. I could understand that they are a class ahead of the others and would certainly be a lot, worth dependable. The interaction with other farmers on the problems and solutions might have thrown more light to them which I could read from their faces. Above all the short but meaningful anchoring done by our Dairy Extension Officer, who once again proved her excellence on narration, made matters more significant to us as well as to the students.

        I was in particular interested  to find the lot more and more inquisitive about the live stock , perhaps due the fact that the owner of the farm happened to be of their age . And that was the main reason for selecting such a property to show that dairy farming is no more the play ground of the seniors alone. In fact lot of youngsters and NRIs are nowadays attracted ,eventually boosting milk production manifold. The White Revolution has now actually set in motion.

      As I witnessed  enviously the young crowd like butterflies, fluttering around the premise, sometime caressing the goats, or chatting with the calves or feeding the chicken, even whispering to the vegetables, unknowingly moved to my college days and tried to dig out a few moments of ecstasies of  such trips of freedom and emotions. Gone are those days I thought and once again, as the bus carrying them moved forward,  forcefully withdrew from the illusion and bid good bye to them.Till we meet again!!!

Nurungukal…..

      When I think of football the first name that comes to my mind is Sait Nagji foot ball tournament at Manchira in Kozhikode. The only event we fondly  awaited to happen apart from the annual exhibition at Zamorin’s ground. Unlike now, we never went to put up holding along the streets of Kozhikode. To be frank I never even bothered to know about the records made by the legendaries around the world. Now when you here the running commentary of a match  the stalwarts can tell you how many times a player had taken his breadth in 90 minutes of play and how tenderly he might have thought about the twins he would have while playing a crucial match. The only thing that bothered us was, from whom  we can sqeeze  few chips to by the tickets. It can be possibly by selling the news paper without the knowledge of our sister-in-law or by surreptitiously extracting some loose notes from our brother’s pocket. We neither had sufficient funds to put up a flex costing thousands of rupees, nor had the time. We were happy  if we could manage to enter the arena with a cone of fried pea nuts. But we were lucky in those days to enjoy the  live performance  of the famous Indian player like Thankaraj, Goswamy,Chidanandan, Zulphikkar, Olympian Rahman etc. etc.  We were satisfied with the commentary of Padmanabettan or with the review of Wimzy in Sport and Pastime. Invariably on many an occasion we had to be contend with enjoying the roar from inside the stadium while leaning on the parapet wall of Mananchitra, embrazing a cool breeze from the beach. If inside the performance of many a permanent spectators who used to station at designated spots added spice to our enjoyment. Suicides and quarrels were unheard of in those days.

      There are many like me in this part of kerala and world over anxiously expecting that the Sait Nagji  tourney would be revived to provide an annual fiesta  and more over to encourage the local young talents. Let those who spend thousands   for those who earn in crores think of creating a corpus fund to bring back a lost glory of Malabar.

Nurungukal…..

      When I think of football the first name that comes to my mind is Sait Nagji foot ball tournament at Manchira in Kozhikode. The only event we fondly  awaited to happen apart from the annual exhibition at Zamorin’s ground. Unlike now, we never went to put up holdings along the streets of Kozhikode. To be frank I never even bothered to know about the records made by the legendaries around the world. Now when you hear the running commentary of a match  the stalwarts can tell you how many times a player had taken his breadth in 90 minutes of play and how tenderly he might have thought about the twins he would have while playing a crucial match. The only thing that bothered us was, from whom  we can squeeze  few chips to buy the tickets. It can be possibly by selling the news paper without the knowledge of our sister-in-law or by surreptitiously extracting some loose notes from our brother’s pocket. We neither had sufficient funds to put up a flex costing thousands of rupees, nor had the time. We were happy  if we could manage to enter the arena with a cone of fried pea nuts. But we were lucky in those days to enjoy the  live performance  of the famous Indian player like Thankaraj, Goswamy,Chidanandan, Zulphikkar, Olympian Rahman etc. etc.  Otherwise we were satisfied with the commentary of Padmanabettan or with the review of Wimzy in Sport and Pastime. Invariably on many an occasion we had to be contend with enjoying the roar from inside the stadium while leaning on the parapet wall of Mananchitra, embracing a cool sea breeze. If inside, the performance of many a permanent spectators who used to station at designated spots added spice to our enjoyment. Suicides and quarrels were unheard of in those days.

      There are many like me in this part of kerala and world over anxiously expecting that the Sait Nagji  tourney would be revived to provide an annual fiesta  and more over to encourage the local young talents. Let those who spend thousands for those who earn in corers and Kozhikode Corporation think of creating a corpus fund  to bring back a lost glory of Malabar.

Nurungukal….contd…

    Wayanad is blessed with the active presence of three officers, a veterinary surgeon, an agriculture officer and a dairy extension officer, with whom I have a close liaison. Although they work in different departments ,have lot of similarities in their work culture. They have an excellent field record, which have made them standout.

     A few months back one of them organised a mango fest. The event had his Midas touch, with an extensive collection of mangoes which to me was a reminder of my childhood days.Out of the many a few of the native varieties  crept into my memory and I traversed back many years back nostalgically.When the other participants were vociferously debating on the merits and demerits of each mango, me unknowingly wandered into a past, scaling heights on a swing which my father used to arrange for us on the branch of the granny mango tree, with a partner, none other than our neighbourhood girl, to the envy of the other lads. 

The visuals in my mind about the dash we used to make to collect the yummy small ripe mangoes which might have fallen in the rain the night before , ahead of the other children reach them, no sooner we get up from bed, ignoring the shouting of my mother, awakened me from the slumber. Even the fruits which had been tasted by the bats or squirrels never frightend us about the NIPPO virus in those days.

         The other two both laddies are sprightly and energetic . In their own impeccable way they organised official duties to the welfare of the stake holders of their respective fields.If one is quick to take decisions the other is an expert in presentation having a good command over English and Malayalam.

         Iam keeping the name of these officers antonymous, frankly speaking to keep away from the wrath of others.  If the official fabric is devoid of the services of such dedicated officers, I used to wonder about the fate of our society. My salute to them……..

Nurungukal……

                The tractor carrying two large tanks of water, collected from a nearby river was shuttling from morning till late evening. I have been noticing this since last summer. It is very clear that many wells in the area have gone dry and locals are forced to depend on this source. One can very well imagine the intensity of an impending disastrous draught. This apprehension has induced me to offer my land to dig a pond sponsored by the Block Panchayat. Now the work is progressing in top gear as they have to finish it before the end of the financial year. When I heard about the cost, running into a few lakh rupees, I wondered how much would have been spent to dig a temple pond a few thousand years ago, considering their size, which in some case extend up to more than an acre. Such huge infrastructures would have been designed with the sole intention of harvesting rain water, because a small pond would have met the demand, considering the population of those days. What a foresight our fathers had, which the present rulers lack. There are plenty of such man made eco systems, scattered though out the length and breadth of Kerala. Many sacred groves and nearby ponds are even today maintained on certain believes and rituals which help conservation of water and biodiversity. Where as many laws of recent times lay dormant with out efficacy.

       Last year I had an occasion to visit the well known Sree Rama temple at Thiruvangad. Apart from the majesty of the temple complex, what attracted me most was the enormity and perfection of the adjacent pond.  It is a fabulous piece of engineering and human effort. Another piece of architecture is the pond of Peralassery. The vastness of Panniyur  Varahamurthy Temple pond near to Anakkara fills your mind with divinity and peace. As I was enjoying the serenity of the crystal clear water column of Thiruvangad pond, my thoughts for a while wandered into a distant past. Splashing of children, gasping to reach the shore, in a similar pond [chira ] in my native place Ponnani.  And about the fun we used to enjoy in a pond attached to our ancestral home in the company of a gang of boys and girls, often competing to touch the other bank first or embark on an errand to fetch a blossomed water lilly like the legendary Bheema. I seldom witness such frolics in our social life now, instead encounter lonely souls immersed in meddling with a gadget incessantly for hours.  

         It is a sure sign that we are wandering into an alien culture abandoning one which had values attune with nature and sustainable living. The so called developments have made much in roads into our modest and time tested standard of living. Unaware of the dangers we have lost the way. Let us jointly under stand the mistakes and thrive to come out for the sake of the survival of our future generations.

 Nurungukal……

                The tractor carrying two large tanks of water, collected from a nearby river was shuttling from morning till late evening. I have been noticing this since last summer. It is very clear that many wells in the area have gone dry and locals are forced to depend on this source. One can very well imagine the intensity of an impending disasterous draught. This apprehension has induced me to offer my land to dig a pond sponsored by the Block Panchayat. Now the work is progressing in top gear as they have to finish it before the end of the financial year. When I heard about the cost, running into a few lakh rupees, I wondered how much would have been spent to dig a temple pond a few thousand years ago, considering their size, which in some case extend upto more than an acre. Such huge infrastructures would have been designed with the sole intention of harvesting rain water, because a small pond would have met the demand, considering the population of those days. What a foresight our fathers had, which the present rulers lack. There are plenty of such man made eco systems, scatered though out the length and breadth of Kerala. Many sacred groves and nearby ponds are even today maintained on certain believes and rituals which help conservation of water and biodiversity. Where as many laws of recent times lay dormant with out efficacy.

       Last year I had an occasion to visit the well known Sree Rama temple at Thiruvangad. Apart from the majesty of the temple complex, what attracted me most was the enormity and perfection of the adjascent pond.  It is a fabulous piece of engeneering and human effort. Another piece of architechure is the pond of Peralassery. The vastness of Panniyur  Varahamurthy Temple pond near to Anakkara fills your mind with divinity and peace. As I was enjoying the serenity of the crystal clear water column of Thiruvangad pond, my thoughts for a while wandered into a distant past. Splashing of children, gasping to reach the shore, in a similar pond [chira ] in my native place Ponnani.  And about the fun we used to enjoy in a pond atatched to our ancestral home in the company of a gang of boys and girls, often competing to touch the other bank first or embark on an errand to fetch a blossomed water lilly like the legendary Bheema. I seldom witness such frolicks in our social life now, instead encounter lonely souls immersed in medeling with a gadget incessantly for hours.  

         It is a sure sign that we are wandering into an alien culture abandoning one which had values attune with nature and sustainable living. The so called developments have made much in roads into our modest and time tested standard of living. Unaware of the dangers we have lost the way. Let us jointly under stand the mistakes and thrive to come out for the sake of the survival of our future generations.

      Nurungukal……

                The tractor carrying two large tanks of water, collected from a nearby river was shuttling from morning till late evening. I have been noticing this since last summer. It is very clear that many wells in the area have gone dry and locals are forced to depend on this source. One can very well imagine the intensity of an impending disasterous draught. This apprehension has induced me to offer my land to dig a pond sponsored by the Block Panchayat. Now the work is progressing in top gear as they have to finish it before the end of the financial year. When I heard about the cost, running into a few lakh rupees, I wondered how much would have been spent to dig a temple pond a few thousand years ago, considering their size, which in some case extend upto more than an acre. Such huge infrastructures would have been designed with the sole intention of harvesting rain water, because a small pond would have met the demand, considering the population of those days. What a foresight our fathers had, which the present rulers lack. There are plenty of such man made eco systems, scatered though out the length and breadth of Kerala. Many sacred groves and nearby ponds are even today maintained on certain believes and rituals which help conservation of water and biodiversity. Where as many laws of recent times lay dormant with out efficacy.

       Last year I had an occasion to visit the well known Sree Rama temple at Thiruvangad. Apart from the majesty of the temple complex, what attracted me most was the enormity and perfection of the adjascent pond.  It is a fabulous piece of engeneering and human effort. Another piece of architechure is the pond of Peralassery. The vastness of Panniyur  Varahamurthy Temple pond near to Anakkara fills your mind with divinity and peace. As I was enjoying the serenity of the crystal clear water column of Thiruvangad pond, my thoughts for a while wandered into a distant past. Splashing of children, gasping to reach the shore, in a similar pond [chira ] in my native place Ponnani.  And about the fun we used to enjoy in a pond atatched to our ancestral home in the company of a gang of boys and girls, often competing to touch the other bank first or embark on an errand to fetch a blossomed water lilly like the legendary Bheema. I seldom witness such frolicks in our social life now, instead encounter lonely souls immersed in medeling with a gadget incessantly for hours.  

         It is a sure sign that we are wandering into an alien culture abandoning one which had values attune with nature and sustainable living. The so called developments have made much in roads into our modest and time tested standard of living. Unaware of the dangers we have lost the way. Let us jointly under stand the mistakes and thrive to come out for the sake of the survival of our future generations.

      

      

Nurungukal……

                The tractor carrying two large tanks of water, collected from a nearby river was shuttling from morning till late evening. I have been noticing this since last summer. It is very clear that many wells in the area have gone dry and locals are forced to depend on this source. One can very well imagine the intensity of an impending disasterous draught. This apprehension has induced me to offer my land to dig a pond sponsored by the Block Panchayat. Now the work is progressing in top gear as they have to finish it before the end of the financial year. When I heard about the cost, running into a few lakh rupees, I wondered how much would have been spent to dig a temple pond a few thousand years ago, considering their size, which in some case extend upto more than an acre. Such huge infrastructures would have been designed with the sole intention of harvesting rain water, because a small pond would have met the demand, considering the population of those days. What a foresight our fathers had, which the present rulers lack. There are plenty of such man made eco systems, scatered though out the length and breadth of Kerala. Many sacred groves and nearby ponds are even today maintained on certain believes and rituals which help conservation of water and biodiversity. Where as many laws of recent times lay dormant with out efficacy.

       Last year I had an occasion to visit the well known Sree Rama temple at Thiruvangad. Apart from the majesty of the temple complex, what attracted me most was the enormity and perfection of the adjascent pond.  It is a fabulous piece of engeneering and human effort. Another piece of architechure is the pond of Peralassery. The vastness of Panniyur  Varahamurthy Temple pond near to Anakkara fills your mind with divinity and peace. As I was enjoying the serenity of the crystal clear water column of Thiruvangad pond, my thoughts for a while wandered into a distant past. Splashing of children, gasping to reach the shore, in a similar pond [chira ] in my native place Ponnani.  And about the fun we used to enjoy in a pond atatched to our ancestral home in the company of a gang of boys and girls, often competing to touch the other bank first or embark on an errand to fetch a blossomed water lilly like the legendary Bheema. I seldom witness such frolicks in our social life now, instead encounter lonely souls immersed in medeling with a gadget incessantly for hours.  

         It is a sure sign that we are wandering into an alien culture abandoning one which had values attune with nature and sustainable living. The so called developments have made much in roads into our modest and time tested standard of living. Unaware of the dangers we have lost the way. Let us jointly under stand the mistakes and thrive to come out for the sake of the survival of our future generations.

      

Nurungukal……

                The tractor carrying two large tanks of water, collected from a nearby river was shuttling from morning till late evening. I have been noticing this since last summer. It is very clear that many wells in the area have gone dry and locals are forced to depend on this source. One can very well imagine the intensity of an impending disasterous draught. This apprehension has induced me to offer my land to dig a pond sponsored by the Block Panchayat. Now the work is progressing in top gear as they have to finish it before the end of the financial year. When I heard about the cost, running into a few lakh rupees, I wondered how much would have been spent to dig a temple pond a few thousand years ago, considering their size, which in some case extend upto more than an acre. Such huge infrastructures would have been designed with the sole intention of harvesting rain water, because a small pond would have met the demand, considering the population of those days. What a foresight our fathers had, which the present rulers lack. There are plenty of such man made eco systems, scatered though out the length and breadth of Kerala. Many sacred groves and nearby ponds are even today maintained on certain believes and rituals which help conservation of water and biodiversity. Where as many laws of recent times lay dormant with out efficacy.

       Last year I had an occasion to visit the well known Sree Rama temple at Thiruvangad. Apart from the majesty of the temple complex, what attracted me most was the enormity and perfection of the adjascent pond.  It is a fabulous piece of engeneering and human effort. Another piece of architechure is the pond of Peralassery. The vastness of Panniyur  Varahamurthy Temple pond near to Anakkara fills your mind with divinity and peace. As I was enjoying the serenity of the crystal clear water column of Thiruvangad pond, my thoughts for a while wandered into a distant past. Splashing of children, gasping to reach the shore, in a similar pond [chira ] in my native place Ponnani.  And about the fun we used to enjoy in a pond atatched to our ancestral home in the company of a gang of boys and girls, often competing to touch the other bank first or embark on an errand to fetch a blossomed water lilly like the legendary Bheema. I seldom witness such frolicks in our social life now, instead encounter lonely souls immersed in medeling with a gadget incessantly for hours.  

         It is a sure sign that we are wandering into an alien culture abandoning one which had values attune with nature and sustainable living. The so called developments have made much in roads into our modest and time tested standard of living. Unaware of the dangers we have lost the way. Let us jointly under stand the mistakes and thrive to come out for the sake of the survival of our future generations.

 Nurungukal……

                The tractor carrying two large tanks of water, collected from a nearby river was shuttling from morning till late evening. I have been noticing this since last summer. It is very clear that many wells in the area have gone dry and locals are forced to depend on this source. One can very well imagine the intensity of an impending disasterous draught. This apprehension has induced me to offer my land to dig a pond sponsored by the Block Panchayat. Now the work is progressing in top gear as they have to finish it before the end of the financial year. When I heard about the cost, running into a few lakh rupees, I wondered how much would have been spent to dig a temple pond a few thousand years ago, considering their size, which in some case extend upto more than an acre. Such huge infrastructures would have been designed with the sole intention of harvesting rain water, because a small pond would have met the demand, considering the population of those days. What a foresight our fathers had, which the present rulers lack. There are plenty of such man made eco systems, scatered though out the length and breadth of Kerala. Many sacred groves and nearby ponds are even today maintained on certain believes and rituals which help conservation of water and biodiversity. Where as many laws of recent times lay dormant with out efficacy.

       Last year I had an occasion to visit the well known Sree Rama temple at Thiruvangad. Apart from the majesty of the temple complex, what attracted me most was the enormity and perfection of the adjascent pond.  It is a fabulous piece of engeneering and human effort. Another piece of architechure is the pond of Peralassery. The vastness of Panniyur  Varahamurthy Temple pond near to Anakkara fills your mind with divinity and peace. As I was enjoying the serenity of the crystal clear water column of Thiruvangad pond, my thoughts for a while wandered into a distant past. Splashing of children, gasping to reach the shore, in a similar pond [chira ] in my native place Ponnani.  And about the fun we used to enjoy in a pond atatched to our ancestral home in the company of a gang of boys and girls, often competing to touch the other bank first or embark on an errand to fetch a blossomed water lilly like the legendary Bheema. I seldom witness such frolicks in our social life now, instead encounter lonely souls immersed in medeling with a gadget incessantly for hours.  

         It is a sure sign that we are wandering into an alien culture abandoning one which had values attune with nature and sustainable living. The so called developments have made much in roads into our modest and time tested standard of living. Unaware of the dangers we have lost the way. Let us jointly under stand the mistakes and thrive to come out for the sake of the survival of our future generations.

      

      

Nurungukal…….

      I always used to hesitate to take a phone call early in the morning. Because nowadays often it would be from the secretary of our milk society seeking help to shoot a problem from one of the collection units or a relative to convey a bad news. But this time it was from my friend who is a known ornithologist. I was fascinated by his enquiry  as to whether squirrels are frequenting my premises now or not. I said yes and wanted to know about his intention. I was still more surprised when he said that a student from a Tamil Nadu University is  here to study about them as part of her Phd studies.

    She was just out of her teens and almost gate crashed into my court yard in a scooter, which she managed  from a local friend. It was about eleven a.m., a time when usually squirrels hesitate to roam about, especially now when the mercury is much above the normal. My  first question was why did she choose this subject. She answered without hesitation that squirrels have an important roll to play in seed distribution. I was convinced and lead her to places in my compound where they frequented and left her to carry on her job.

         As I returned home humming ‘annara kanna va …….’ I tried to visualise a very old incident.  After a chase to catch a squirrel which fell from our roof I could manage to grab its tail and to my dismay only the  furry skin of its tail remained in my hand and it escaped unhurt. Much later in my life I knew that squirrels shed their skin as a defence mechanism to dodge from  predators.Similarly all of us might have noticed how agile they are to escape from the clutches of a charging cat, by taking refuge on a coconut tree followed by a shower of agree chatter.

    I know him only as my childhood friend who brought down ripe mangos from a towering granny tree. Many a time  ripe mangoes fell from their tiny hands, which would have otherwise remained out of reach to our watering mouths. looking at their despair and agree face for loosing the catch, reminded us about the proverb ‘andi poya annan’. 

      Their tenacity to build a nest with balls of coir fibre is a lesson to us. In pairs they move around to collect the fibre. After meticulously rolling it into balls they carry them to the selected place in their small mouth and arrange a nest with the dexterity of a trained craft man. In the case of humans a strenuous schooling might be needed to accomplish such tasks.  But here its only a gift of the nature.

    Above all what made me admire this small animal was its  roll in building a mighty bridge to help Rama in his endeavour to retrieve his beloved. Whether the three strips on its back is a mark of gratitude by Rama for  the voluntary gesture  or an impression of  truth in the proverb ‘annara kannanum thannalayathu’ is left to our imagination. The fact remains that it is not the size but the intention and magnitude of the service which has to be acknowledged.

        Nature has bestowed upon on him an important responsibility of propagating seeds , which he is doing relentlessly without expecting a reward or award. There are many like him carrying out a silent revolution to help the humanity. Yet many among us crave to be known as cultivators, conservators and saviours. I wish the study of this budding scientist from Tamil Nadu would help us understand better, our roll in saving Mother Earth and how small is our wisdom and effort in that matter……

Nurungukal………contd…

     A function to celeberate the marriage of  a close relative is always an oppurtunity we enjoy to meet our childhood partners. Invarriably most of them flock enblock. A few months back we had such an occasion. In my case  no doubt a bunch of flash backs emerged crystal clear.

        Like ducklings we used to traverse many a mile in search of fun and adventure. Our village was a model to provide a set of creativity. Each day was special. There was no prompting and we made use of any thing that came handy, either to make a foot ball out of hay, or a  hocky ball with a hard nut of pine tree, Even a hut with all the traditional rooms, with left over coconut leaves and to cook a meal using what ever we could manage to squeeze from mother’s kitchen.

     In those days a wedding ceremony had some unique events which ensured the participation of even tiny tots. For e.g: A set of beautifully dressed girls would be arrayed at the entrance of the venue which always was a panthal in the court yard and not any hired auditorium ,to sprinkle rose water when the groom’s party enters.  They used to mischiviously take liberty to make the spray lavish on their favourites. The groom had to pass through a gang of naughty tots who used to peep through the gaps in the crowd, and ocassionaly making funny comments. Teenagers who would move about in flocks never missed an opportunity to have a glimps or pass comments on their opposites. I still remember how we used to rush, pulling and pushing each other to grab a lemon and a tiny bocquet from the silver plate which one of the elder boys would be struggling to keep away from our onslaught, immediately after the  ceremony. Next is an attempt to be a member in the team of food servers and invrriably one of us would  be lucky to be assigned to serve a minor item like salt. Because those days one should know where each item has to be served on the plantain leaf.  The whole premise become a hub, like a bee hive, so energized and vociferous. Each participant had a pre determined roll to play irrespective of age and everyone was conscious  about it.

      But lo, nowadays I used to feel like a stranger when a set of uniformly attired girls ushered in by an event manager, welcomed you with a forced smile and folded hands at the gate and guided you to your seat. Even the close relatives appear to be insignificant before the event manager. Not to mention the interference of the vedio and photographers.

      

    Today I just avoided the smile of the strange girls and also the welcome drink served in a paper cup and entered the auditorium. It was cool inside and the hall was packed yet silent. We managed to find seats in the middle of a row avoiding to stumble upon any body. I looked around to locate any familiar faces. The couple near to me was not comfortable with my restlesness. After a frantic search I managed to identify one with a grey hair waving at me from the other end of the row. When I focused on him I could, to my joy identify a full row of familiar faces, waving their frail hands in union. Then every thing happened in quick succession and we managed to gather around the eldest of the lot to exchange pleasantries.

               After a patient waiting, the door of the dining hall was opened like that of a sanctum sanctorium of a temple. After a struggle we could manage to find seats although in defferent tables. Once again I tried to sharpen my ears to the shouts of Appu Menon who used to, in our old days control the meals distribution. But unfortunately I could hear only the cracking sound of a trolly carrying a big rice bowl. But I refused to snatch away from the past and visualized the towering Appu Menon standing before me and jerking dexterously from it just the adequate quantity of fine traditional cooked rice into my leaf. Before I could come to myself I found my leaf full of rice and sambar scattered all over. I finished eating in haste , fefusing to taste the payasams served in paper cups, as an attempt to keep fresh my memories of the golden days. There was a serpentine que waiting to wish the newly married. As we moved towards it the strange girl appeared once again to stop us for a while which I accepted with reluctance, but giving me an opportunity to slumber into my sweet past………

Nurungukal………contd…

     A function to celebrate the marriage of  a close relative is always an opportunity we enjoy to meet our childhood partners. Invariably most of them flock en block. A few months back we had such an occasion. In my case  no doubt a bunch of flash backs emerged crystal clear.

        Like ducklings we used to traverse many a mile in search of fun and adventure. Our village was a model to provide a set of creativity. Each day was special. There was no prompting and we made use of any thing that came handy, either to make a foot ball out of hay, or a  hockey ball with a hard nut of pine tree, Even a hut with all the traditional rooms, with left over coconut leaves and to cook a meal using what ever we could manage to squeeze from mother’s kitchen.

     In those days a wedding ceremony had some unique events which ensured the participation of even tiny tots. For e.g: A set of beautifully dressed girls would be arrayed at the entrance of the venue which always was a panthal in the court yard and not any hired auditorium ,to sprinkle rose water when the groom’s party enters.  They used to mischievously take liberty to make the spray lavish on their favourites. The groom had to pass through a gang of naughty tots who used to peep through the gaps in the crowd, and occasionally making funny comments. Teenagers who would move about in flocks never missed an opportunity to have a glimpse or pass comments on their opposites. I still remember how we used to rush, pulling and pushing each other to grab a lemon and a tiny bouquet from the silver plate which one of the elder boys would be struggling to keep away from our onslaught, immediately after the  ceremony. Next is an attempt to be a member in the team of food servers and invariably one of us would  be lucky to be assigned to serve a minor item like salt. Because those days one should know where each item has to be served on the plantain leaf.  The whole premise become a hub, like a bee hive, so energised and vociferous. Each participant had a pre determined roll to play irrespective of age and everyone was conscious  about it.

      But lo, nowadays I used to feel like a stranger when a set of uniformly attired girls ushered in by an event manager, welcomed you with a forced smile and folded hands at the gate and guided you to your seat. Even the close relatives appear to be insignificant before the event manager. Not to mention the interference of the video and photographers.

      

    Today I just avoided the smile of the strange girls and also the welcome drink served in a paper cup and entered the auditorium. It was cool inside and the hall was packed yet silent. We managed to find seats in the middle of a row avoiding to stumble upon any body. I looked around to locate any familiar faces. The couple near to me was not comfortable with my restlessness. After a frantic search I managed to identify one with a grey hair waving at me from the other end of the row. When I focused on him I could, to my joy identify a full row of familiar faces, waving their frail hands in union. Then every thing happened in quick succession and we managed to gather around the eldest of the lot to exchange pleasantries.

               After a patient waiting, the door of the dining hall was opened like that of a sanctum sanatorium of a temple. After a struggle we could manage to find seats although in different tables. Once again I tried to sharpen my ears to the shouts of Appu Menon who used to, in our old days control the meals distribution. But unfortunately I could hear only the cracking sound of a trolley carrying a big rice bowl. But I refused to snatch away from the past and visualised the towering Appu Menon standing before me and jerking dexterously from the bamboo basket, just the adequate quantity of fine traditional cooked rice into my leaf. Before I could come to myself I found my leaf full of rice and sambar scattered all over. I finished eating in haste , refusing to taste the payasams served in paper cups, as an attempt to keep fresh my memories of the golden days. 

          There was a serpentine cue waiting to wish the newly married. As we moved towards it the strange girl appeared once again to stop us for a while which I accepted with reluctance, but gave me an opportunity to slumber into my sweet past………