Nurungukal...contd...

   Before taking leave I touched the feet of my mother to receive her blessings, because  I am supposed to take an important decision in my life. I was on my way to see a girl  who may be selected as my life partner. Although I had  made some mental preparation, an element of tension prevailed. My eldest brother was supposed to join me at Calicut. We had not informed the girl’s family about our visit.

      Mother’s trusted servant Chathu was ready early in the morning to carry my bag to the bus stand. Mother asked me to report the result at the earliest.

     In the train I met a few of the hawkers and physically challenged persons making their living as best as they can. A blind man singing some old Malayalam hit songs attracted my attention. He had lost his eye sight after an attack of small pox and its marks were still left on his face. He was an expert in beating two small wooden pieces holding them in between his fingers producing a typical sound which can pierce into the bottom of your heart. I have watched him growing in age ever since my college days, but after a few years during  the journey between Tirur and Kuttipuram , I used to eagerly train my ears to hear the beatings of the chips but in vain. Although many others had taken his roll failed to touch my feelings.

        I went straight to meet my brother who was waiting in the office of the Co op. Milk union at Palayam. As he was an officer in the co-op. Dept.he had maintained good liaison with Milk societies. More over the secretary of the society was his best friend, one Mr. Kidavu. On my arrival he made contacts with the brother of the girl and informed about our visit.It was a surprise to them, yet agreed to oblige. The photo was with me and I showed it to my brother. He just glanced at it and returned with a smile and I took it as a silent consent. He knew the family very well, especially her uncle who was an advocate and used to visit my uncle a senior lawyer in the Calicut bar. So he said the back ground is OK. And it was my consent that mattered. Such moments, to take delicate decisions  appear very rarely in our life. It tightened my nerves. As in many such situations my inner self started evaluating the issue ,and before long I was able to decide.....contd....

 ...

Nurungukal...contd...

   Unlike today the bus moved from one point to another very slowly.She waited for the commuters and the luggage to be loaded on the top. Many merchandise were brought to Ponani market each day, especially betel leaves,dried medicinal plants etc. The conductor was a friend of every passenger. They exchanged pleasantries and maintained a relationship, which is not in vogue now.At Edappal she waited for a long time to pickup the passengers from the buses from Guruvayur and Anakara. By the time I got down at Kundukadavu jn it was nearing seven in the morning. Our house was about a kilo meter away and I covered it on foot. The tea shops en route were just beginning to prepare their kitchen. The usual sound of the scratching of coconut to prepare PUTTU reminded me of the croaking of the frogs at the on set of the monsoon.From some, the aroma of fine tea brew pierced my nostrils, followed by the sound of poring tea from one mug to another. It is now known as meter tea, as the maker lifted the hands to a meter height while poring the brew from on pot to another and vice versa.

         Mother was waiting for me at the veranda in her usual pose, leaning on the pillar. As I climbed the steps she hurried to me and hugged affectionately. I felt tensed as one or two tear drops from her eyes fell on my back. It was so every time after the death of our father. Within seconds she was normal and asked me whether the train was in time. I said yes and went inside. She wanted to know about my programme and how long my stay would be. I said after seeing the girl I had to hurry back as it was the probation period. Tomorrow myself and my eldest brother had planned to visit the girl and after that I would leave for Madras.

        She had prepared soft dosai and very tasty arachukalakki [one of her specialities] and I devoured a few dosai as if I was starving for a few days. She was sitting near to me and narrating each and every event that took place around her in meticulous details. One or two women from the Mahila Samajam came to consult her on some issues pertaining to the running of a tailoring unit and a teacher from the adjacent LP school to invite her to participate in a function. I was wondering from where did she get the energy to be so active even at that age.

       In the evening I went to pay visit to some of our relatives and every where I met the old ones only. The youngsters had gone in search of better pastures.Ponani had changed much. I could not locate many of my childhood friends. When I reached back mother was eager to know the welfare of her relatives. At dusk I found that she had not broken any of her old routines. The lighting of sandhyadeepam and reading the first and last ten stanzas of narayaneeyam were done without showing any fatigue. After enjoying her tasty dinner we retired for the day. I was once again brooding on the next days event....contd.... 

Nurungukal...contd,,,

   The sun had not come up when I stepped down from the train at Kutipuram station.I was still drowsy. The call of the station staff , kutipuram, kutipuram had woken me. As usual I looked around for my porter friend Muhamed and headed towards the exit. There was a tap on my shoulder and there he was scratching his head.I handed over the bag and requested to reserve a seat in the bus to Ponani. That was the practise ever since I met him. He was the favourite of almost all the elite families of Ponani, Anakara,Kumaranalur etc to have a liaison with Kutipuram station. It was cute to watch him moving in brisk steps in his red shirt and khaki shorts and of course a kerchief tied on the head in a typical and exclusive style of Malabar. The scene of the porters balancing very heavy trunk box and a hold all [typical travel kit of those days] on their head and depositing  them at the bottom of the seats is one of olden days. On many an occasion he had helped to purchase a ticket, when there was heavy rush of passengers from Guruvayur. Every time I met him he would offer a tea which I used to gracefully deny.

     On the main road a bus going to Ponani was parked. The cleaner of the bus [kili] was standing behind and shouting Ponani, Ponani, with a whistle on the fore finger and occasionally pretending to give the signal to start. The driver of the vehicle was going on raising the accelerator making bur bur sound to give an indication that he will dart at any moment. This process will go on and on till the bus is almost full with passengers. The bus belonged to Murugan Transport, and naturally there used to be a small photo of vel murugan above the driver’s seat decorated by a jasmine garland and the incense from a popular agarbathi prevailed.

        Muhamed had already reserved a seat for me and was waiting. As a token of respect he had removed the towel form the head and was holding it in between his left hand and chest. I enquired about his welfare and paid a hand full of notes which he hesitantly accepted. The bus was about to move and I jumped in. After occupying my seat I turned back to bid farewell to Muhamed. But he had already left. Perhaps to serve his next customer. That was the last time I met him. Much later I came to know that he was no more to take care of his favourite patrons. I could not find a substitute there after.

   The bus after making many more false attempts of rolling, finally moved towards Ponani. As it crossed the bridge I peeped out to enjoy the flow of water in Nila and the fluttering of the morning rays on the little waves..contd.. 

Nurungukal...contd...

My sister in law told us about their visit to the girl’s house. They had gone without any notice. At that time no elders ,even her mother was not in the house. She had gone to visit her eldest daughter who was staying nearby. All of them came hurrying and an informal meeting took place.It was transparent and straight forward without much ado. The real picture was available.  Both were convinced about their respective status and intention thus paving the way for the next move. I was asked to take the next step i.e. to see the girl at the earliest. A photo was made available. I was working at Chomepet in Central Warehousing Corporation. Naturally the photo was presented before my close colleagues. In such a situation we always depended much on the advice of our friends. There was a consensus and I proceeded on a few days leave. In the train I was making a mental preparation on my role in the interview with the girl. Many scenes from Malayalam movies passed through my mind. I was actually picturing the event. Even the questions to be asked were listed. My eldest brother was to accompany me . I was on my way to chose my life partner and my sub conscious mind was murmuring that I was going to make it. What attracted me in the photo was her innocent look. And I believed that eyes reveal the person in you. With this in mind and the tiredness of a day’s work in the Warehouse I slumbered in the crowded train, occasionally waking up with those eyes  with a Monolisa smile lingering in me.......contd....

Nurungukal....contd...

   I think it was in 1970 my brother who was in Indore proposed a case which was mooted by his friend who was a textile engineer. This friend had married from a family who originally belonged to Wayanad and later settled in Kozhikode. The proposed girl is the sister of his wife. I knew this family very well. They were one of the fairly rich families of Chalapuram where I had spent my college days. The many deep lanes between compounds in Chalapuram were our favourite places of rendezvous. Their house known as Anoth Hall was located on an elevated compound. On both sides of the way to this house there are small houses in which one of my friends family lived. The steps at the gate and the wall behind gave a majestic look to Anoth Hall. An old Ambassador car parked below the steps having a fancy registration number K L D 4400 was an indicator of the status of the family.We have seen this car many a time in the beach with a load of girls and boys and behind the steering an old driver who dragged the vehicle through the streets of Calicut at snails speed. Occasionally she was seen speeding by a young man accompanied by a beautiful girl. We used to look at them with a sense of envy.

  My eldest brother was familiar with the back ground and status of this family and hence there was no need for further verifications. Anyway as a matter of formality one of my elder brothers and his wife were deputed to visit them and report. It  was positive and that was the beginning of a great union......contd...

Nurungukal...contd..

   After celebrating my 29^th birthday when I was about to leave my mother once again asked to take a decision on my marriage. I was evading the issue on the plea that I was in search of a better placement. Since I had joined Central Warehousing Corporation in a supervisory cadre my reasons to postpone the marriage became  irrelevant.More over my kid brother was eagerly on cue. Ultimately I had to give the green signal. And that was the beginning of a treasure hunt as far as I was concerned. She was cautious to ask me whether any girl was in my mind. I said no. Yet I was not sure about it. Many had infatuated me. But as the circumstances would have, I failed to pursue the affairs and in one case it was a miss between the cup and the lip. No regrets now. Some incidents happen without our consent or wish.

    In the following months many proposals came and I was totally confused to select the apt one. If one was plump the other was so lean. Another was dark or yet another was with a short plait.There was no chance of knowing each other except a short interview which is a futile exercise to understand your life partner.  In fact I was in a negative mood as in the case of Jayaram in a movie. Enquiries came from many corners and the horoscope came to my rescue in many a case. I think similar  moments might have been gone through by many who are in search of an ideal partner through our system of arranged marriage. Here I do not venture to say yes or no to any method of selection whether arranged or otherwise. Both have plus and minus points . To me a successful marriage is the one in which a mutual understanding and recognition prevails till the end, for a peaceful and contended life. May be a difficult proposition but worth trying isn’t it !!.....contd....

Nurungukal....contd....

       I went to Ponani to spend a day or two with my mother. The visit was also to celebrate my 29^th birth day.  As usual she had prepared a very tasty feast. She was an expert cook. The kurukku kalan prepared in a kalachatti was one of her best items. Similarly she used to prepare an item we call as karimkalan[not an item in a feast], which I think is one which is prevalent only in our area [ Malapuram district]. Although its name ends in kalan, the recipe is different. Now my sister prepares a version of it almost similar to the old one. My mother used to say that the mizhuku paratti uperi which is another exclusive item of then central Malabar is prepared by just smearing a little coconut oil by hand on the  pre-cooked plantain pieces which was usually stored in earthen pots hung in one corner of the kitchen in an uri. She had her traditional method of serving the food on a birth day. The birth day boy or girl would be seated facing east in thekkini of our nalukettu house. On the right a lighted nilavilakku and the feast items served in a plantain leaf and also a nazhi  filled with rice would be arranged. The plantain leaf of the birth day person would be supported by two additional pieces. I do not know even now why it is so. May be to give an importance to the person.Father usually sits on the opposite side. After serving all the items in the order of their positions [ my father was very particular about this practise] mother would stand behind the birth day person and she would bless by placing rice and thulasi on the knees,shoulder and top of the head. She was very particular that the birth day person should not say ‘enough’ when the food is served and what ever is left behind will be offered to the fish in our pond which is adjacent to the sacred grove. She would herself would serve all the items, even at her old age and her touch adds the taste which even now linger in us.After a sumptuous feast we will assemble in the poomokham and it is time to hear her childhood story, while she goes on chewing betel leaves, accompanied by her intermittent loud laughter. It reverberates in my ear on and off........contd