Nurungukal: Nurungukal…. There was a craftteacher in our s...

Nurungukal:  Nurungukal….    There was a craftteacher in our s...:   Nurungukal….     There was a craft teacher in our school. He taught us how to operate a hand loom and spin yarn with the use of a spindl...

 

Nurungukal….

    There was a craft teacher in our school. He taught us how to operate a hand loom and spin yarn with the use of a spindle known as thakkili. I do not remember his real name now. But everyone fondly called him BumBuka. He was called so because of the way he walked. His each step was more or less like a jump Bum Bum. He was one among a few teachers who wore pants in those days. We loved to be in his class as there was no text to learn. I used to watch him with wonder, the way he moved his hands and legs in rhythm to shuttle the warp yarn from one end to the other on the loom. It was a crude wooden loom. Very often the threads got broken and seldom allowed him to complete weaving the entire length of the cloth. In spite of my best efforts I could not for even once synchronise the movements of my hands and legs. So it remained to me a dream never come true. But instead I mastered the art of spinning yarn on the thakkili spindle, fairly fast and even managed to win a prize in the annual school level competition. I do not know why such crafts were taught in those days, may be as an attempt to prepare the children to take up a profession related to the village level self sufficiency or as a mission to inculcate some of Mhatma’s great thoughts on Grama swaraj. Although it has not helped to attain its goal in the matter of self sufficiency, it has definitely made an impact on us to uphold the values set by the greatest visionary of our age, who is none other than Gandhiji. My father was fairly good at spinning yarn on the charka. It was one of his passionate hobbies and an ardent practitioner of Mahatma’s principles in life. He used to trade the yarn in the Khadi centre regularly. Unfortunately such facilities are not available nowadays.

      We were also taught pencil drawing in the school. I do not know whether it is in the curriculum now. Our drawing teacher was highly short tempered, still a talented artist. His painting of the Goddess Saraswathy on the vast canvas was the most beautiful stage curtain I have seen in my life. Perhaps the skill we attained in sketching intricate designs set by him might have helped us to stimulate our aesthetic senses and creative aptitudes which have no doubt helped us in moulding a positive attitude in life.      

       Apart from learning such crafts and skills in school, we were engaged during our leisure time in many activities such as,  collecting match box pictures, broken glass bangles, empty cigarette boxes, feathers of different birds or even candle pieces etc. All these were a part of character development training we obtained indigenous. Collecting match box pictures was a parallel hobby to philately. We even managed to collect pictures from Sivakasi in Tamil Nadu, the abode of printing technology. With broken glass bangles bits we made garlands to adorn the pictures of Gods and Goddesses or national leaders. Also by pasting the bits of different colours on drawing paper beautiful designs of flowers and birds were made. Similarly with strips of empty cigarette packets we made  garlands, baskets, penholders etc. Pebbles of various colours made by melting the candles to make eye catching designs was our another pastime. It was with much fancy we gazed at the dancing pebbles of melted wax floating in a plate of water. Yet another time passing activity was to collect the feathers of different birds and carcasses of butterflies and delicately arranging them in an album. This helped us to identify many birds and even their calls and acquaint with the life cycle of many tiny creatures there by growing in harmony with nature.

       Although we belonged to a past devoid of less material gains have a legitimate right to claim a sustainable mode of life, thanks to the freedom we enjoyed in shaping our destiny. Now look at the brink we have reached sacrificing all freedom for the sake of the so called model developments. Even now it is not too late to look back and take lessons from our mistakes, if you wish to come back. Mother earth would be too happy to pardon and offer one more chance……

     

 

 

 

 

    

 

Nurungukal….

    There was a craft teacher in our school. He taught us how to operate a hand loom and spin yarn with the use of a spindle known as thakkili. I do not remember his real name now. But everyone fondly called him BumBuka. He was called so because of the way he walked. His each step was more or less like a jump Bum Bum. He was one among a few teachers who wore pants in those days. We loved to be in his class as there was no text to learn. I used to watch him with wonder, the way he moved his hands and legs in rhythm to shuttle the warp yarn from one end to the other on the loom. It was a crude wooden loom. Very often the threads got broken and seldom allowed him to complete weaving the entire length of the cloth. In spite of my best efforts I could not for even once synchronise the movements of my hands and legs. So it remained to me a dream never come true. But instead I mastered the art of spinning yarn on the thakkili spindle, fairly fast and even managed to win a prize in the annual school level competition. I do not know why such crafts were taught in those days, may be as an attempt to prepare the children to take up a profession related to the village level self sufficiency or as a mission to inculcate some of Mhatma’s great thoughts on Grama swaraj. Although it has not helped to attain its goal in the matter of self sufficiency, it has definitely made an impact on us to uphold the values set by the greatest visionary of our age, who is none other than Gandhiji. My father was fairly good at spinning yarn on the charka. It was one of his passionate hobbies and an ardent practitioner of Mahatma’s principles in life. He used to trade the yarn in the Khadi centre regularly. Unfortunately such facilities are not available nowadays.

      We were also taught pencil drawing in the school. I do not know whether it is in the curriculum now. Our drawing teacher was highly short tempered, still a talented artist. His painting of the Goddess Saraswathy on the vast canvas was the most beautiful stage curtain I have seen in my life. Perhaps the skill we attained in sketching intricate designs set by him might have helped us to stimulate our aesthetic senses and creative aptitudes which have no doubt helped us in moulding a positive attitude in life.      

       Apart from learning such crafts and skills in school, we were engaged during our leisure time in many activities such as,  collecting match box pictures, broken glass bangles, empty cigarette boxes, feathers of different birds or even candle pieces etc. All these were a part of character development training we ourselves were engaged in. Collecting match box pictures was a parallel hobby to philately. We even managed to collect pictures from Sivakasi in Tamil Nadu, the abode of printing technology. With broken glass bangles bits we made garlands to adorn the pictures of Gods and Goddesses or national leaders. Also by pasting the bits of different colours on drawing paper beautiful designs of flowers and birds were made. Similarly with strips of empty cigarette packets we made  garlands, baskets, pen holders etc. Pebbles of various colours made by melting the candles to make eye catching designs was our another pastime. It was with much fancy we gazed at the dancing pebbles of melted wax floating in a plate of water. Yet another time passing activity was to collect the feathers of different birds and carcasses of butterflies and delicately arranging them in an album. This helped us to identify many birds and even their calls and acquaint with the life cycle of many tiny creatures there by growing in harmony with nature.

       Although we belonged to a past devoid of less material gains have a legitimate right to claim a sustainable mode of life, thanks to the freedom we enjoyed in shaping our destiny. Now look at the brink we have reached sacrificing all freedom for the sake of the so called model developments. Even now it is not too late to look back and take lessons from our mistakes, if you wish to come back. Mother earth would be too happy to pardon and offer one more chance……

     

 

 

 

 

    

 

Nurungukal….

    There was a craft teacher in our school. He taught us how to operate a hand loom and spin yarn with the use of a spindle known as thakkili. I do not remember his real name now. But everyone fondly called him BumBuka. He was called so because of the way he walked. His each step was more or less like a jump Bum Bum. He was one among a few teachers who wore pants in those days. As students we loved to be in his class, mainly because there was no text to learn. I used to watch him with wonder, the way he moved his hands and legs in rhythm to shuttle the warp yarn from one end to the other on the loom. It was a crude wooden loom. Very often the threads got broken and seldom allowed him to complete weaving the entire length of the cloth. In spite of my best efforts I could not for even once synchronise the movements of my hands and legs. So it remained to me a dream never come true. But instead I mastered the art of spinning yarn on the thakkili spindle, fairly fast and even managed to win a prize in the annual school level competition. I do not know why such crafts were taught in those days, may be as an attempt to prepare the children to take up a profession related to attain village level self sufficiency or as a mission to inculcate some of Mhatma’s great thoughts on Grama swaraj. Although it has not helped to attain its goal in the matter of self sufficiency, it has definitely made an impact on us to uphold the values set by the greatest visionary of our age, who is none other than Gandhiji. My father was fairly good at spinning yarn on the charka. It was one of his passionate hobbies and an ardent practitioner of Mahatma’s principles in life. He used to trade the yarn in the Khadi centre regularly. Unfortunately such facilities are not available nowadays.

      We were also taught pencil drawing in the school. I do not know whether it is in the curriculum now. Our drawing teacher was highly short tempered, still a talented artist. His painting of the Goddess Saraswathy on the vast canvas was the most beautiful stage curtain I have seen in my life. Perhaps the skill we attained in sketching intricate designs set by him might have helped us to stimulate our aesthetic senses and creative aptitudes which have no doubt helped us in moulding a positive attitude in life.      

       Apart from learning such crafts and skills in school, we were engaged during our leisure time in many activities such as,  collecting match box pictures, broken glass bangles, empty cigarette boxes, feathers of different birds or even candle pieces etc. All these were a part of character development training we obtained endogenously. Collecting match box pictures was a parallel hobby to philately. We even managed to collect pictures from Sivakasi in Tamil Nadu, the abode of printing technology. With broken glass bangles bits we made garlands to adorn the pictures of Gods and Goddesses or national leaders. Also by pasting the bits of different colours on drawing paper beautiful designs of flowers and birds were made. Similarly with strips of empty cigarette packets we made  garlands, baskets, pen holders etc. Pebbles of various colours made by melting the candles to make eye catching designs was our another pastime. It was with much fancy we gazed at the dancing pebbles of melted wax floating in a plate of water. Yet another time passing activity was to collect the feathers of different birds and carcasses of butterflies and delicately arranging them in an album. This helped us to identify many birds and even their calls and acquaint with the life cycle of many tiny creatures there by growing in harmony with nature.

       Although we belonged to a past devoid of less material gains have a legitimate right to claim a sustainable mode of life, thanks to the freedom we enjoyed in shaping our destiny. Now look at the brink we have reached sacrificing all freedom for the sake of the so called model developments. Even now it is not too late to look back and take lessons from our mistakes, if you wish to come back. Mother earth would be too happy to pardon and offer one more chance……

     

 

 

 

 

    

Nurungukal: Nurungukal…. The silhouette of afrail and stoopi...

Nurungukal:
Nurungukal….  The silhouette of afrail and stoopi...: Nurungukal….   The silhouette of a frail and stooping figure slowly disappearing away against the receding evening sun is emerging on t...

Nurungukal….

  The silhouette of a frail and stooping figure slowly disappearing away against the receding evening sun is emerging on the screen of my memory chip as I read about the award bestowed on Thamketuthy for her  efforts to conserve a sustainable eco system  which she had inherited from the Tharawad.  Many such patches of biodiversity were maintained by our forefathers, either on a compelling belief or based on cultural conventions. But in the last few decades, especially after the demolition of feudalistic practices in agriculture or due to the disintegration of the fabric of the joint family and fragmentation of lands, to nurture nuclear families these edifices of coexistence were obliterated from our premises. 

     If I remember properly there were five such sacred groves in a row  and one by one disappeared as a result of human encroaches. In one or two there were ancient chithroda kallu, a type of stone formation to worship serpents. Even now the twin groves are well maintained in our premises, thanks to the efforts of our sister.

      My father after his great escape from Burma, in the midst of world war second settled down in Ponani, which was the native place of my mother, owning the legacy of tolerating Khilafat movement. When father purchased this property there were two sacred groves and a  dilapidated well. In the initial days when my parents settled down here they depended on this well for water. But later they had to abandon it as one day when my parents were on a pilgrimage to Rameswaram, a serpent appeared on the rope while our servant was fetching water from this well for house hold purpose, which was forbidden as per the version of an astrologer.

 As children,the grove attracted our curiosity on many occasions in pursuit of a golden snake or rare birds. Very often a Mottled Wood Owl (kuttichoolan or kalan kozhi ) used to make its shrieking calls in the dusk, ushering us to chant Narayana,Narayana, as we believed the calls were the harbinger of death or some calamity. Even very recently I heard the calls and a similar feeling rushed into me. The groves are even now the shelter for many species of birds, reptiles, creatures etc. The variety of calls they made while roosting used to provide a musical concert. I am happy to know that even now the same ambience  of coexistence is maintained. But still the Golden serpent is eluding me. My anxiety has now increased after witnessing a classic performance ( sarpathatuam ) of Methyl Devika, the Mohiniyattam exponent, depicting the enticing movements of a serpent in tune with the old Tamil song Aadu pampe …vilayadu pampe… .Yet the enchanting sound emanating from the wooden fiddle and the mud pot with the dexterous movements of the hands of a pair of pulluvan and pullothy, vibrates in me, when I think of snakes and folk songs.

     The moving silhouette, which I mentioned in the beginning was that of Mullampulli Nambhoodiri, the then main priest of Thrikkavu Bhagavathi Temple. He was an embodiment of serenity and humility. He might have been  fairly aged. With a traditional tiny knot of hair at the top of his shaven head, he moved slowly with a hunch. Fair in colour and always with a smiling face he was the most revered person in the circle of devotees. The thrimaduram prepared  by him was a delicacy to us and I am yet to taste a better one. My mother was very particular that he himself had to perform the annual pooja in the sacred grove to appease the serpents and trees. And he obliged her, despite of his age . We used to remain in waiting impatiently till the end of the pooja to grab the karolappam and palpayasam  which obviously had unique taste. We seldom meet such noble ones, except in our dreams nowadays.

       Perhaps the acquaintance with such myths and practices might have been the reason to keep us so close to nature. Although it may be difficult to seek a scientific reasoning in such traditions, it has certainly a rapport with coexistence. If you look around there are many moods in the anvil of the nature, in which we may notice the dexterity of creation.

Nurungukal: Nurungukal…. About a year ago astudent from Che...

Nurungukal:
Nurungukal….   About a year ago astudent from Che...: Nurungukal….    About a year ago a student from Chennai landed up in my farm with a quest for learning about squirrels. I was so fascin...