Nurungukal: Nurungukal…. To love and tomake love are t...

Nurungukal:
Nurungukal….        To love and tomake love are t...: Nurungukal….         To love and to make love are two different situations. If one is mental, the other is a combination of both mind a...

Nurungukal….

        To love and to make love are two different situations. If one is mental, the other is a combination of both mind and body. If one is like melting an ice cube in your mouth the other is like dissolving a sugar cube. Both flows down tickling each cell in its path. Love at first sight is a foolish statement. No, it’s a slow process. It develops gradually. In its course of progression many elements have relevancy viz; caring, sharing, understanding, ethics, transparency, confidence, concern, compatibility etc; not the least compromise.

         It is human to fall in love. If you look back into your life, at least a few instances of infatuation, if not ardent love, can be dug out. Other wise you are devoid of a subtle mind.

        Love lost or snapped have been the theme of many a love story, for authors world over. Ramanan, Nalini, Oonhnal, far pavilion , to quote a few. In epics around the world you can come across many more. So it is love and love alone in this post.

       My uncle was a historian by birth and an advocate by profession. He had written two volumes of world history in Malayalam. It was during my college days in Kozhikode. He ventured into this epic task, at the fag end of his life. Had it been earlier he would have written many volumes and accomplished his life ambition and our mother tongue would have been blessed. He loved reading.Even at his advanced age he spent hours on books written by famous historians like H.G.WELLS. I had seen him tenaciously writing notes in his crisp Malayalam hand, sitting bend on the varandha. On and off  I had the privilege of assisting him in writing the manuscript. Such sessions had no doubt benefited me to acquire a comprehensive view of the historical events, besides urging me to access great works.

         I have not seen his wife. My mother used to talk about Ammayi, that’s how I know her. The first and the last  Ammayi  we could call. She was very beautiful. She was the daughter of the eldest brother of my father. Her father was a doctor of those days. Mother married my father and in exchange uncle wedded ammayi. It was a closely knit family bondage. She passed away at a young age, leaving behind six kids, five girls and a boy. It was at this juncture my mother had to return from Burma to take care of the children and her brother.

      My desire to join the army was in one way related to the high ranking position held by one of my cousins. In fact he was the only one who could rise up to such heights in army hierarchy in our family. We were all proud of him. Although I have not seen him in his chequered uniform, many of his photos on duty has envied me. My inspiration to join a short service emergency commission during the Chinese aggression in 1962 was actually the result of the admiration to my cousin. But unfortunately my hope in getting a rank failed at the alter of the SSB in Bangalore. My  only consolation was that I could live as an officer for a week in the camp and had a glimpse of the  life in the barracks.

        He married the eldest daughter of my uncle. It was a love marriage, I presume. It was so in those days to establish a romantic claim with in close family circles.A love story unfolds here. I do not know the finer details of it, because I was not a witness. Hence I leave it to the those who know better. As in the case of any soldier he had to often leave his family at home and move with the troops either in our frontiers or in another country on a peace keeping mission. In 1957 when I was in college his wife and children, three girls, were in Calicut to pursue their education. It was from them actually I learned many of the nursery rhymes, which helped me to recite them in correct pronunciation to my children. It was then I came to understand the importance of a well organised primary education. The discipline and order they impart in public schools at the lower standards can no doubt create a base for moulding a perfect character. Perhaps this basics might have been an important factor for their success in life, more so in acquiring worthy and enviable life partners. His wife being the eldest had to shoulder the responsibility of a guiding force to her younger sisters and brother. And she did it immaculately. There had been many an occasion to me to seek her matured advise.

        Their wedding took place at Ponnani, in their ancestral house known as PARUTHOLLI. Before the marriage we used to go on visit to this house and stay there for a few days. It was a nalukettu majestically built in the midst of a three acre coconut grove. There was a gate house, a pond, sacred grove.All aligned in tune with Vasthu Shasthra. The function was solemnised in traditional style with all the ingredients such as mani panthal, the bridegroom procession accompanied by nadaswaram,sadya etc. etc.

        Many years later we resumed  meeting when they came down to settle down in Trivandrum. I remember to have made a ride in the standard herald car, which was a craze at that time, with the Brigadier gallantly. His pet vehicle which he maintained till his last.

         We have many friends and relatives with whom we move closely. But there are only very few among them who can claim intimacy and respect. This family is one such to me.

      

Nurungukal: Nurungukal…. When ever I visitedancient monumen...

Nurungukal:
Nurungukal….   When ever I visitedancient monumen...: Nurungukal….    When ever I visited ancient monuments of great dynasties especially that of Rajaputs and Mugals, I took immense pleasur...

Nurungukal….

   When ever I visited ancient monuments of great dynasties especially that of Rajaputs and Mugals, I took immense pleasure in taking my imagination on wings to visualise the proceedings in a court room or a love scene of some of the eternal lovers of those days. Often in my dreams and solitude characters from history flashed through, taking me to ecstasy. Similar thoughts appeared in me when I used to walk through the lengthy corridors of some of the very old temples in Tanjore, Madurai etc. Although I had all these days wished to meet a Maharaja or characters of those days  in flesh and blood, it still remains unfulfilled.

                 In Kerala there were many regional kings and Queens but they refrained from creating monuments of immense  grandeur as their counter parts in North India, Tamil Nadu or Karnataka. May be that they, even from old days had a better sense of social responsibility and commitments in handling public funds. They were  democratically concerned about the welfare of their subjects , rather than building edifices for posterity. The immense wealth which still remains in the coffers of one of the famous temples in our capital city is a standing example of their frugal princely life style.

               When I think of prince and princess of ester years, I have to drag my memory of those days in college. Many of my friends hailed from Raja families of Kottakal, Nilambur and Kozhikode, different clans of Samoothiry who was, as history tells us, instrumental for hosting and allowing foreigners to forge trade relations with far off continents thus stimulating world wide markets for our aromatic and spice produces.

                     I also have a faint memory of my audience with  the head of one of the Raja in our native place. We addressed him in respect as Thampuran. Actually in those days , before the land reforms acts in Kerala the ownership of vast area of agricultural lands and forests vested with such hierarchies. Those who toiled in the land, only held possession to carry on cultivation to derive a livelihood. A designated revenue has to be yearly remitted to the local Raja. Our family also was enjoying the benefits of such a land. Once or twice my father entrusted me to remit the dues, with strict instructions that when ever the Raja gave audience I had to adhere to a protocol which included, to enter his room only when I am called, to respect him with folded hands, to ensure that my dhothi to be unfolded below the knees, to climb the wooden stair case without making noise,  etc etc. As I did not have a foot wear, the removal of it did not arise. But on reaching the palace (kotta ) I forgot the instructions and straight away walked into his room,covering a lengthy court yard and climbing the ladder loudly clattering the loose wooden planks. Thampuran was sitting on an ordinary wooden chair which looked much old and unpolished. To my surprise it was the same one who freely moved about with out any ado among the  commoners in the ball badminton tournaments and rummy sessions sponsored by the then popular Union Sports Club of Ponnani.This club was once the meeting ground of  sport lovers of Ponnani. The yearly ball bad mention tournament was an event to reckon with. High ranking players from far and near participated and in those days teenagers like me were inspired to be part of that Mela.   

                       He was smoking holding the cigarette popping up through the middle finger and puffing out  the smoke in perfect rings into the air. Much later I had witnessed to our curiosity, my brother-in-law doing this style of emitting series of smoke rings. One of my elder brothers  was a chain smoker. He held the burning stub between his lips precariously without inhaling a single puff till it ceased burning at the tip of the filter.  One of my college mates, a Muslim boy used to have  one or two quick puffs from a mini beedi during the intervals  in college, and occasionally I also ventured to enjoy a couple of puffs with him. But the Raja’s style still remain etched in my heart.  

                       The Thampuran offered me a seat smilingly. He accepted the amount which I offered After introducing me with all humility abiding to the dress rehearsal given by my father.  While writing the receipt he enquired about my father’s welfare and health and to my surprise about the productivity of the crops, for which I drew a total blank.

                         I dissented the stair, and this time silently, as I had already developed a high esteem of that unassuming, democratic Raja. When I was about to leave the gate, looked back and had a glimpse of the Kotta, which was at the verge of dilapidation. I could very well imagine the plight of the financial position of that Royal family and  it might have  only worsened after the land reforms later on.

                       Conventions and customs have changed. Yet we face challenges to attain contentment, which is distancing always like a mirage. Its an illusion that refuses to merge with reality.

Nurungukal….

   When ever I visited ancient monuments of great dynasties especially that of Rajaputs and Mugals, I took immense pleasure in taking my imagination on wings to visualise the proceedings in a court room or a love scene of some of the eternal lovers of those days. Often in my dreams and solitude characters from history flashed through, taking me to ecstasy. Similar thoughts appeared in me when I used to walk through the lengthy corridors of some of the very old temples in Tanjore, Madurai etc. Although I had all these days wished to meet a Maharaja or characters of those days  in flesh and blood, it still remains unfulfilled.

                 In Kerala there were many regional kings and Queens but they refrained from creating monuments of immense  grandeur as their counter parts in North India, Tamil Nadu or Karnataka. May be that they, even from old days had a better sense of social responsibility and commitments in handling public funds. They were  democratically concerned about the welfare of their subjects , rather than building edifices for posterity. The immense wealth which still remains in the coffers of one of the famous temples in our capital city is a standing example of their frugal princely life style.

               When I think of prince and princess of ester years, I have to drag my memory of those days in college. Many of my friends hailed from Raja families of Kottakal, Nilambur and Kozhikode, different clans of Samoothiry who was, as history tells us, instrumental for hosting and allowing foreigners  to forge trade relations with far off continents thus stimulating world wide markets for our aromatic and spice produces.

                     I also have a faint memory of my audience with  the head of one of the Raja in our native place. We addressed him in respect as Thampuran. Actually in those days , before the land reforms acts in Kerala the ownership of vast area of agricultural lands and forests vested with such hierarchies. Those who toiled in the land, only held possession to carry on cultivation to derive a livelihood. A designated revenue has to be yearly remitted to the local Raja. Our family also was enjoying the benefits of such a land. Once or twice my father entrusted me to remit the dues, with strict instructions that when ever the Raja gave audience I had to adhere to a protocol which included, to enter his room only when I am called, to respect him with folded hands, to ensure that my dhothi to be unfolded below the knees, to climb the wooden stair case without making noise,  etc etc. As I did not have a foot wear, the removal of it did not arise. But on reaching the palace (kotta ) I forgot the instructions and straight away walked into his room,covering a lengthy court yard and climbing the ladder loudly clattering the loose wooden planks. Thampuran was sitting on an ordinary wooden chair which looked much old and unpolished. To my surprise it was the same one who freely moved about with out any ado among the  commoners in the ball badminton tournaments and rummy sessions sponsored by the then popular Union Sports Club of Ponnani. This club was once the meeting ground of  sport lovers of Ponnani. The yearly ball badminton tournament was an event to reckon with. High ranking players from far and near participated and in those days teenagers like me were inspired to be part of that Mela.   

                       He was smoking holding the cigarette popping up through the middle finger and puffing out  the smoke in perfect rings into the air. I had witnessed to our curiosity, my brother-in-law doing this style of emitting series of smoke rings. One of my elder brothers  was a chain smoker. He held the burning stub between his lips precariously without inhaling a single puff till it ceased burning at the tip of the filter.  One of my college mates, a Muslim boy used to have  one or two quick puffs from a mini beedi during the intervals  in college, and occasionally I also ventured to enjoy a couple of puffs with him. But the Raja’s style still remain etched in my heart.  

                       The Thampuran offered me a seat smilingly. He accepted the amount which I offered after introducing me with all humility abiding to the dress rehearsal given by my father.  While writing the receipt he enquired about my father’s welfare and health and to my surprise about the productivity of the crops, for which I drew a total blank.

                         I dissented the stair, and this time silently, as I had already developed a high esteem of that unassuming, democratic Raja. When I was about to leave the gate, looked back and had a glimpse of the Kotta, which was at the verge of dilapidation. I could very well imagine the plight of the financial position of that Royal family and  it might have  only worsened after the land reforms later on.

                       Conventions and customs have changed. Yet we face challenges to attain contentment, which is distancing always like a mirage. Its an illusion that refuses to merge with reality.

Nurungukal: Nurungulai… Covid19 lock down protocol is in...

Nurungukal:
Nurungulai…
     Covid19 lock down protocol is in...: Nurungulai…      Covid19 lock down protocol is in progress. I have once again plunged into my old past time viz; reading, writing, gar...

Nurungulai…

     Covid19 lock down protocol is in progress. I have once again plunged into my old past time viz; reading, writing, gardening etc. But now God bless there is a thin flat gadget  with almost every body which can take you to any part of the world by a soft touch. I am no exemption. One evening as I was rolling the u tube posts, an old video of a rare breed of buffalo started playing. A hefty Sardarji, in his typical turban and colourful cloths was leading proudly  one of his pet buffaloes in a farm in Punjab.  It was obviously a Murah  breed. He was giving a talk to a videographer explaining  thread bare details of the animal. It was exceptionally heavy and dark. Decorated with multicoloured ribbons and ropes it strode in stile as if engaged in a ramp walk. It’s name is “yuvaraj” ,and no doubt an apt one. When I heard it’s price in the world market, it was mind blogging to me, an ordinary farmer from Kerala. Plus 8 cr. Even to that bid Sardar refused to part with his pet. It reminded me about the world;s smallest cow “Manikkam”, a native of kerala (vechur), which also is in the price tag of more than a few crores.

       I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was my wife who was watching the video from behind. Akin to her style, in measured words avoiding any  undue exaggerations told about the glory of a buffalo who was the most wanted and at the same time feared animal in her family. It’s name was Shanku. She continued that unlike Yuvaraj who appeared to be docile and gentle, Shanku was hostile and fearsome. Very often turned violent and charged on strangers. Only one or two members in the family could manage him. He refused to take command when irritated. But in style and stock he was almost like his Punjabi brother.   In spite of all these he was instrumental in bringing in glory to the family by winning an award in a state level cattle and poultry show held in Kozhikode on 13.3.1960 by the Director of Animal Husbandry, Govt.of kerala, exactly 60 years ago..There was also a prize money of Rs.125/- and a silver lamp as the trophy. This lamp is now reverently worshipped in the family Pooja room. Her brother the other day was describing the pain they  took to transport him to the venue of the show all the way from Wayanad in a lorry with the help three others. Yes, the award, besides the glory did bring in some considerations to them by way of free veterinary service of the doctor Mr.Harilaal who was incidentally  instrumental for the entire episode. Apart from that the bull later was considered as the best stud bull even in the neighbouring villages.

         There was a time when the family owned many pairs of buffaloes. At a time about 60 to 70 numbers. All of them were reared just for the preparations of the paddy field and for thrashing paddy when they were managing their vast property as a joint family.  I remember to have seen one of their herd keeper named Chandan (a tribal). He was an handicapped person as one of his legs were severed below his knee. He used to move about with the help of a long stick, which he positioned in between the remaining stub of the severed leg. I had seen him negotiating at great speed  jumping and shouting through the muddy paddy fields to keep the herd under his control. A speed and agility which even a normal youngster can not achieve at the peak of one’s health. The stock of such cattle and men have disappeared, leaving us with no option but to depend on machines, to satiate our endless greed……