Nurungukal….

    I am not able to still understand the delicate mechanism of our mind or that invisible organ which helps us to rewind memories how old they may be. Many vivid pictures of old incidents appear in your mind’s screen as fresh as it was when it happened. To quote a few…….How I enjoyed the way I was carried by a family friend on his shoulder to enrol me in a near by primary school, fondly named as Kunhan  college……….how my teacher in 3^rd or 4^th standard made me to stand on the bench when I was caught for copying the answer of an  arithmetic mental riddle………the minute details of the marriage of my sister,  and the delivery of her first child, which had happened when I was still in school…….the thrill I enjoyed while accompanying my father on foot to a distant place to purchase a cow……….many many naughty  advances made in the pretext of heroism during my college days to draw the attention of the other sex ……the finest details of me packing the luggage to go to Trichy for joining the Railway Training Institute, while my father was relaxing on an armed chair and mother chewing her pan leaves sitting on the wooden plank in the Poomukham…..how I missed to collect the telegram  conveying the serious position of my father’s health from the post man, which denied me to be with him during his last moments on this earth…..and the many episodes while I was in service..

        I had in the last few years put my efforts to dig many such unforgettable events, from the fathoms of my memory. I am not sure whether the depiction was complete or effective, yet it was only an attempt to reveal the past. In the past and in recent time as I traversed through the literary works of many famous authors viz; Bhasheer, Vyshakhan, M.T.V etc, most of the heart rendering works were based on their past encounters, experiences in life. Bhargavi Nilayam, Manassinde Rasathandram  and Nalukettu are all a few to mention.

       During this lock down impasse, I love to lock my heart and soul  in the nostalgic pavilions of my past , under an Ashoka tree, while the birds in different colours and agility chirp, prompting me in my solitary sojourn ……

Nurungukal: Nurungukal…. Thirty first May2020,time 8 PM. ...

Nurungukal:
Nurungukal….     Thirty first May2020,time 8 PM. ...: Nurungukal….      Thirty first May 2020,time 8 PM. An event, for the first time in our family was going to take place. A zoom party. I ...

Nurungukal….

     Thirty first May 2020,time 8 PM. An event, for the first time in our family was going to take place. A zoom party. I was an amateur in handling an on line video meeting with several others. Still I ventured to take a plunge, because I was sure about the support of our younger folks. When it was finally on, I felt as if I was airborne in a cloud or on a magical carpet to float amazingly from continent to continent, country to country and place to place. As the characters slowly emerged one by one on that little screen, we were in a clamour to greet and signal each other. As usual, akin to our family trait the customary crescendo of the chorus gained rapidly and as I could see a canvas of utter chaos was slowly rising. Although we were miles apart physically we behaved as if the distance was no matter.  To many among us this event was much familiar with, and it was so in the case of some of my friends. But  to me it was so strange , energising and I carried the effervescence of that experience till late at night. Even when it lacked any charm of an organic togetherness, the meeting had all the ingredients of a live sentimental texture and closeness. In other words it was well within our expectations. As it came to a close, one by one reluctantly withdrew from the arena and the screen drew blank, letting us in wait till next week.

        The whole episode was an eye-opener to me about the vast horizon of potentialities of the technology and the accomplishments of human race. I wonder a day may come when we may be able to have access to those who had left us in grief. Perhaps that may be the only option left before us to combat future pandemics. Beware, a shade war is on. There is no escape from it until humanity  succumbs to the inevitable acceptance of co-existence…….

              

Nurungukal: Nurungukal…… He used tovisit our house at ...

Nurungukal:
Nurungukal……        He used tovisit our house at ...: Nurungukal……         He used to visit our house at regular intervals. He was short and stout, not very fair. His Oxford hair style rese...

Nurungukal……

        He used to visit our house at regular intervals. He was short and stout, not very fair. His Oxford hair style resembled that of a British actor. With a square chin he was clean shaven like Dev Anand. Attired immaculately  In a sandal coloured full sleeves jubba and golden bordered double veshti, he presented an elite aristocratic look. So was his behaviour. Many of his fingers were adorned with glittering rings with stones in different colours and shapes jutting out like jamoon fruits. As he moved his head side ways a pair of ear rings  ( kadukkans )threw bright red rays. A pair of gold covered teeth peeped out while  he huskily spoke. A golden wrist watch made in Sweden dangled on his left hand casually, which he tried to keep in position now and then. He was none other than Mr. Mulloth, a hand loom owner and textile dealer from North Malabar.

      He was the first salesman I have met in my life, who actually taught me what is salesmanship. He was not really selling his products, but his manners. And of course the ethics, transparency etc etc. were complimentary.

       In mid nineteenth century there were many middle class Nair tharawads in Ponani. Most of them were joint families.  Their only livelihood was from agriculture, paddy and coconut being the main crops. The women folks in them were seldom seen in market places.  Marketing, either sale or purchase was looked after by the young male members, under the strict supervision of the head of the family (karanavar ), although it was a matriarchal regime. In nutshell women were only an ornamental entity. Of course there were exceptions.

      Our hero Mr. Mulloth was trying to take advantage of this situation for sales promotion. He procured speciality textile products from different places, besides his own and supplied them at the door steps of his exclusive customers. His hefty assistant carried a huge steel trunk box, resembling the one in the  notorious Alavantar murder case, in which the choicest collection were stuffed. They included varieties like Chendamangalam  set dotties, kancheepuram sarees, eerkalakara 100 yarn Pavu mundu, Kasavu mundu of original silver yarns etc. His arrival was usually announced by a hushed up cough. A customary welcome from the lady of the house permits his entry on to the Poomukham. He will slowly settle down on the smooth terracotta floor with a subdued  exhale. When the hosts spreads a grass mat, he would delicately exhibit the products one by one, taking care to expose their special features. Then it’s the other’s turn for scrutiny, queries and selection. In the process many apprehensions, conversation, giggles , subtle jokes etc transpire before the deal is settled. Occasionally he would stand up and volunteer to show the finer details of the fabric, all with a set smile on his calm face. He seldom insisted for ready cash settlement, instead allowed easy instalment payments. An irresistible offer to inflate his sales. He was dead sure that their vanity will not allow none of his customers to make defaults in full settlements. He and his assistant, balancing the heavy trunk on his head would leave gently on foot to the next customer and as the day ends would finally roost in the out house of one of the affluent families. This was his routine for many years. Now I understand from my sister that his successors are still pursuing his path, not on foot but in a car.

        I have come across many such entrepreneurs later in my life. There was one blind man selling vegetable in the narrow streets of Calicut. He was carrying the load on his shoulder at the two ends of a bamboo stick. He was totally blind and I used to wonder how he was meticulously negotiating through without stumbling. Perhaps God might have empowered adequately his other senses or more aptly it was his will power to  uphold his self esteem to toil for a livelihood. Another one had a mobile stationery shop. Every thing from pin to plane was available in his not so big wooden box. Yet another was a fruit seller. If you just look around you can meet many like them engaged in different fields. But none of them might have found a place in the screens of a power point presentation on success stories. In fact it is in them we have to seek the real make in India spirit. A tribe in whom you can observe the finer aspects of salesmanship, self esteem, ethics and perseverance. They uphold the real Indian trend of Swaraj and the efficacy of the  post Covid 19 resilience will depend much upon how sincere our planners are in supporting them.        

Nurungukal: Nurungukal…. I am nearing eightynow. The lock ...

Nurungukal:
Nurungukal….    I am nearing eightynow. The lock ...: Nurungukal….     I am nearing eighty now. The lock down protocols do not permit me to step out from my home. Yet, I venture to take an ...

Nurungukal….

    I am nearing eighty now. The lock down protocols do not permit me to step out from my home. Yet, I venture to take an early morning stroll down the lane.  But recently seldom I used to enjoy the walk as it used to be earlier. I was enjoying such sojourns mainly in my interactions with the passers by. A smile, a twist of the upper lip or a silent hello, besides the intake of fresh air. Now the uncomfortable cover on my face is hindering all these. In fact fifty percent of my otherwise active face is blank. I have to now manage the expressions with my eyes, which have already lost their glitter. I wonder in present days even a mother’s lullaby would be a grumble !

     A mother and a child were coming opposite to me. The sibling was full of energy as can be seen from the way she swayed her body and limbs, as she moved ahead of her mother. The young mother was trying to drag the little one, may be trying to keep a safety gap from me. As usual I threw a smile to both. When it failed to get a response, I frantically tried my luck with my eyes, but in vain to trigger a reaction from the pair. One by one many passed past keeping safe distance and I felt that I was losing my entity as a social being. The social fabric is gradually rupturing and each individual is in a withdrawal syndrome.  The sense of togetherness is steadily withering. As a matter of fact the purpose of our existence has become our own concern and the community’s roll in it is fading. Individuals are going to be self protective and a cleavage is unknowingly developing. Forcibly a tendency, to be self centred is creeping in. I fear that another ugly version of an era of untouchables is emerging. May be that the nature is forcing on us to accept a new order and meaning to our existence. “Together you perish divided you live “. Unity in diversity is going to be a far cry, difficult to be accomplished.

         How are we going to circumvent this hostile situation?. I think we can find an answer, if we dig out our past life style. I mean a joint family set up, where intense relationship was nourished with close kith and kin. Outsiders were only complimentary or supporting actors to keep the social fabric intact. But in recent years the structure became fragile. Nuclear families sprung up for reasons of individual comforts, which forced us to seek help from others. This tendency accelerated the process of dependency on The State and free welfare schemes, although many safety options were available to address adverse situations with in a joint family. We demolished a time tested institution which was more dependable and sustainable, in our craze for following an alien culture which has obviously no relevance to our legacy.

       It’s almost certain that we have to live with this pandemic or a new one for many more years, because of the imbalances created by our own short sighted actions. Any organism tends to multiply it’s progeny  and for this process the need of a host is essential. Such organisms which were once depending on animals for multiplication are forced to find human hosts since their natural hosts have been reduced as a result of the imbalances caused by the human invasions into their domain. Until then this position is reversed we are always an easy targets of such hostile agents. As things stands now we have to either live with it and to be in defence till such time an effective striking tool is developed which is still eluding us.                 

        So the best option left before us is to adopt a workable resilience strategy. How to exist beyond the reach of the enemy, adopting the protocol now in vogue is the best option left before us. Then how to sustain livelihood.  Obviously the answer is to be self sufficient in food production. Our food basket has to necessarily fit in tune with our seasons, as was it in the early nineties viz; tubers, millets, fruits,greens etc. Even our dress code may have to be  redesigned so as to be frugal, avoiding opulence from all our activities. Thus an austere  version of development has to be aspired. I strongly believe that for many years to come global economy will loose its dominant Just try to relevance. Mainly because  the trade routes and corridors are going to be narrowed down. Prioritise investments in health, education, agriculture and biodiversity conservation based on water shed development principles. Up gradation of  any infrastructure should be ultimately complementary to a self sustainable and sufficient local community. Ultimately our endeavour should be to live in harmony with nature and her subjects. Let others live or perish. It is now or never…….Let the message of our Father of the nation  prevail in each heart "....................."