MY AMAZING CHILDHOOD DAYS

 

MY AMAZING CHILDHOOD DAYS ………

(Episode 2 - “Waynad Connection”and other incidents)

WHAT IS THE CONNECTION BETWEEN WAYNAD AND MY CHILDHOOD DAYS?

                                     (Manjapra Aaaraattu)

A lot, actually. My grandfather was working in Wayanad in the Forest department (watchman or something), for a paltry monthly salary of Rs. 5/- or so, or may be even less, some 100 plus years back … ! My father must be some 7 or 8 years when my grandpa died of Malaria. That was very common those days, and working or even living in Wayanad was worse than being in the cellars of “KALA PANI”. And my father had to look after his old mother and elder sister. There was no scope for going to school when making the ends meet itself was a tough challenge for him.

You may be knowing that there were only two choices for poor brahmin boys in those days. Either learn and pass lower / higher Shorthand and Typewriting, and take a train to Bombay, or may be Calcutta. The second, and probably less costly option was to go to some town in Madras Presidency (Consisting of the present Tamil Nadu, Telangana, Andhra, or Kerala). One day, my dad took a train to Calicut. Just as getting the job of Stenographer or Typist (those qualified in Shorthand and Typewriting will be taken as 'Stenographer' and those who passed only Typewriting will join as 'Typists') in some Office at Bombay or Calcutta, getting the job of server in some good hotel was also very easy, comparatively. And the biggest attraction was that your accommodation and food is taken care of …... !! He joined a popular hotel at Calicut called “Modern Café” in SM Street, opposite Radha Theatre. It was one of the busiest streets of Calicut. (Just like all brahmin boys working in hotels here were called “AMBI”, boys were generally called “Konthai” in Kerala hotels. IDENTITY CRISIS?). I must find out what all those Bengali boys working in Kerala Hotels these days, are called… “Khokon”, may be…

Anyway, thanks to his extremely fair complexion, and long hair, very soon he got into the good books of not only wealthy and regular customers, but also the proprietor, Lakshmana Iyer. He became so  close to Iyer, that occasionally he would even take charge of the ‘Kalla’, when Lakshmana Iyer was away. Dad soon became his right hand… !!

The Hotel owner would take my dad along whenever he went on vacation with family. Life was slowly getting greener for my dad. But his well-wishers (those rich and loving customers) had some other plans. One day some of those good natured people called my dad privately, and told him.                                                                                                                                                                                               “Konthey, nee ethra naalaikku thaan ippidiye velai senchittiruppe? Nalaikku onakkunnu oru kudumbam varum, Akkava Kalyanam panni kudukkanam. Athukkellaam neraya panam benam illiyaa? Onnoda intha thucha sambalam eppidi mathiyaakum? Neeye yen pudisaa oru hotel thodanga koodaathu?”

“I am very happy here. And, I can never ever imagine to be a competitor to Lakshmana Mama”, said my dad.

“Ithu paattukku ithu, athu paattukku athu. Chummaa manassa pottu kozhappikkathey. Nangalellam illayaa onna support panna? Onnum bhayappedathey. Onakku ethra panam venam, kelu. Naangal tharom. Hotel thodanga edam venamaa, sollu, oru kashtavum illai.”

Reluctantly, my father agreed after long persuasion by his well-wishers. Rest was history. He started a hotel in a very small way, in Big Bazar Street, close by, and named it “Anjaneya Vilas”  after his ishta deivam. Business flourished day by day, and because of his dedication, uncompromising quality of food items, and courteous service, the hotel became a landmark, and anyone visiting the city those days felt their trip will not be complete without tasting the iddlies, vadas, Dosas, and sweets, and coffee at ‘Anjaneya Vilas’ – something like a visit to Madurai will not be complete without a visit to “College Hostel” as some of my friends here may recall. He bought a small room in SM Street next to “Modern Café” where he started his “career” and constructed a Hanuman temple there. That was early Forties, and he has told me, Britishers would be eager to order food from his hotel regularly for all their parties … !!! He married some rich girl who was staying in a palatial Bungalow here in Lloyds Road, and after her death soon after due to Cancer, he married my Mom. I will now cut the long story short.

He felt enough was enough. He also found it too taxing to manage the hotel, what with increasing labour problems, Unionization, and around 1945 or so, he sold the hotel. I had been there a few years back and the hotel was still there in Big Bazar Street, only thing the name is changed to “Maruthi Café”.

He purchased a three-storied house with a huge ‘Thodi’ (backyard) in Manjapra, where we all grew up playing Chillu Pandi, Goli, Bambaram, Rounders (Desi version of Baseball), Chuttem Pullum, Lighters (crude form of Kho Kho), and EVEN CRICKET … !

Let us come back to the Blog Title. Our Head Mistress was one “Valliyamma” (who was not very kind to me and my sisters). She would roam about with a thick tapered black stick with a silver ‘Kumizh” or cap, and will not hesitate to beat the children at the slightest excuse. Once I created a poem which read,

“ValliammaTeacher,                                                                        VelliyaazchaDivasam,                                                                 VellivadiKondu,                                                                      Kuttyoleyokke Thalli…”

And, I was proudly reading the poem loudly, to impress my friends, and girlfriends in particular, when Valliamma Teacher apparently heard me. She came running and beat me in my hands and thigh with her ‘Velli Vadi’. At home my father was furious, seeing the blood clot on my palms and thighs. Next day as soon as the school opened, he came and started shouting at the Head Mistress as to how she can beat a small boy so mercilessly. And threatened her that he will see to it that she is transferred to Wayanad.

                                  (With my class mate, Sarada)

After a few days, she met my father on the road, and told him, “Saami paranja mathiri thane cheythu, Alle? Enne Wayanaattilekku Transfer cheythu tto….” However, my father had no role in that, and that was just a routine transfer…! He must have laughed to himself. 

I am stopping here. Perhaps, I will meet you all with another new and interesting episode on my childhood days. Till then, it is Good byeee, dearieeeeeeeeees....…..

 

                          In front of the village Krishna Temple

                              with my Childhood friends

 

a n a n d . . . . .
for ever..........

Friendship isn't about who you have known the longest.

It's about who come and never leave your side.

More will follow ……..

Enjoy......................

  

 

 

A Rose is a Rose is a Rose – William Shakespeare                                                     

aka “What is there in a Name?

 

I will come to the Abdul Khader’s story.

I will be telling more about my school days, but first let me tell you why I consider names indeed matter a lot. Amavasai was telling me about his recent visit to the bungalow of Abdul Khader at Lucknow. They were meeting after almost 40 plus years. The initial ‘Ubhaya Kusalopari” etc., were over, and after Abdul introduced his wife to Amavasai, he asked about the children of Abdul. He told, the first two were already married and the third will soon get married. He called his first daughter, and when Amavasai asked her what her name was, she replied “NC” and went away. Then the second daughter came, and told her name was “MC”. Now Amavasai knew that in North people choose all kinds of names, like Babloo, Dubloo, Inki, Pinky, Ponky, and all weird names one can imagine. This was something he wasn't prepared for. He asked, “Is there any special reason for you to choose these two odd names?”

Abdul replied, “ Arre, nothing special, yaar. Soon after marriage, we wanted to know how it feels like having a child. So, because of Natural Curiosity, our first daughter was born. So we named her, NC. Amavasai asked, “What about the second?” Abdul replied, “After 4 years, we wanted to have another child, since we felt NC should not suffer from the ‘Single child’ syndrome. Thus the second girl was born, and we named her as “MC”, because she was born out of our Mutual Consent. There was an eeriee silence. Amavasai said, “But you said you have three daughters? Where is she? Gone out or something?” 

Abdul said, “No, No, she is here only”                                   But, he was reluctant to call his third daughter. However, Amavasai insisted, and after his repeated requests, he called his third daughter. Amavasai asked her, “Betee, kyaa naam hai theraa?” She ran away without answering. 

Obviously dismayed, he asked Abdul what her name was.

"Arre, Chodo yaar. Talkalk about something else"            “Come on. You have to tell me. Are we not the best of friends, and you know there’s no secrecy between we two, and Ananth?” With persuasion after persuasion, Abdul very, very reluctantly said that his third daughter was named “ABC”  

Amavasai almost swooned ! The names, NC, and MC, though sounded weird, had some logic behind them. But ABC was something way beyond his wildest imagination. And even after repeated request, Abdul will not tell the reason behind naming his third daughter, “ABC”. Finally, he yielded when Amavasai threatened to severe his friendship unless he told him the reason.

“Don’t laugh at me, please"                                                 “That was 'ABSOLUTE  BLOODY  CARELESSNESS', hence the name ABC ......”

I am stopping my Episode here. More will follow. And wait further blogs.. BUT, DON’T YOU AGREE THAT NAMES DO MATTER A LOT, TELL ME HONESTLY….

 

a n a n d . . . . .
for ever..........

Friendship isn't about who you have known the longest.

It's about who come and never leave your side.

More will follow ……..

Enjoy......................

  

 

 

 

MY AMAZING CHILDHOOD DAYS .........

(Episode 1 – Abdul Khader, Amavasai & Other incidents)

 

I was born in the year India became independent. Yes! In 1947, but a few days before that epic mid-night development, which was to become history in the following years.... On the 10^th of May, to be precise.

Like all of you, I too had the proverbial “wonder years”. In the next few episodes, I shall be telling you about those wonder years - at least whatever I can recollect. I was born with two siblings above me (Another was to be born 3 years later). We had all the sibling rivalries, fights, reconciliations, etc., etc.

On turning 5, I was put in a government school nearby. (Manjapra Elementary Girls School) Though a co-ed school, the girls far outnumbered the boys, and I didn’t like the tag of “Girls” School. Not at all. But since the school was hardly 50 metres from our house, my father insisted that all of us should have our primary education there. I can’t recollect much memories here, except that I lost the Class Leader election, while in Std. 5 (through secret Ballot) by a huge margin, 2 for me, and 18 against me. I got the votes of myself and one Abdul Rahman, son of the Postman, ‘Saybu’ by which name the entire village and nearby places knew him. Abdul Rahman was a great fan of me and would do anything for me. I lost the election for two reasons. Being secret Ballot style, My rival from the same village, Balasubramanian and me had to choose, any one symbol. He smartly chose the “Two Bulls” symbol. I didn’t think much about it then, so I chose “Lotus” as my symbol. Now, Nehru was the Prime Minister then, and the great Congress Party’s symbol was ‘Two Bulls. So, naturally the “Lotus” had absolutely no chance against the “Bulls”. On hindsight, had the class leader election been held today, or say after 2013, I would have won it hands down....  !!!

Another reason for my ‘pathetic’ failure was because the class teachers would always compare my “intelligence” with others, and would ask them to be like me. To be frank, I was like the king with a cut nose in a state where all others had NO nose. ...... !!! (There is a saying in Malayalam, “Mookkillaa Rajyathu Muri Mookkan Raajaavu” !!!)  However, that experience gave me a big life’s lesson, I must say. Because, till then, I would get upset for any type of failure, be it my team losing, my not winning any prize in the deshi lotteries, or even my not becoming the class first in term exams. After the pathetic defeat in the election, I decided to take things lightly, and not to get upset on adverse situations. On that day, I decided that I will never ever be cowed down by challenges when they stared at me. I would rather convert the challenges into opportunities.

My real school life starts when I leave the ‘girls’ school after 6^th Standard and join the nearby Chamy Ayyar High School at Ayakkad, some two miles away. Oh yes! I’m flooded with memories at C A High School. For example, my first day at the school entering the 7^th Standard or "2nd Form” (Section A). For starters, those days schooling was for 11 years. Upto 5^th standard, it is elementary. From Sixth Standard, or First Form, the high school starts. And we had the Public Exam on the 11^th Standard, or more precisely, Sixth Form. And then the college life starts. 

I will now come to the Abdul Khader’s story.

Even before I joined the new school, Miss, Saraswathi, the 7^th standard ClassTeacher already had apparently told stories about me. That he is super intelligent, has already cleared the ‘Rashtra Bhasha’ exam of the Dakshin Bharat Hindi Prachar Sabha with first class etc. I was taking tuitions with her since my “Pradhamik” level, and she knew me very well. Now as soon as I entered the class on my first day at the new school, I was able to see the hostility all around. Everyone was staring at me like a dirty animal, or may be a totally unwanted guest. Now, a stout black boy came to me and scowled, “So, you are the new super intelligent student, right?” I kept quiet. Then he asked me what my name was etc. Say, a crude form of "Ragging". Thereafter, he continued, “OK. If you are good at Hindi, then tell me, the meaning of the word I will ask you’. I agreed, and he continued, “What is the meaning of “Bandhar?” I didn’t know what to reply, but mustered the courage and wanted to put this boy in his place. So I replied, “Well, that is another name for YOU ...” And all other students laughed loudly (because everyone knew Bandhar means ‘monkey’). He then challenged me to ask him the meaning of any Hindi word. I told him, “Tell me the meaning of “Lifafa” (It means envelope, actually)” he blinked, and all the boys and girls clapped me, and I became popular instantly. Sundaran, Chamy, Abraham (Who later became my bosom friend in later years), and of course Amavasai came to me and shook hands with me.....

And when the Class Miss, Saraswati teacher entered, four of us were asked to sit in the front bench. Abdul Khader, Abraham, Amavasai, and myself. What is common or the connection between Abdul Khader, Amavasai etc., is only that all names start with the first and best alphabet, “A”. Seating was in alphabetical order for ease of attendance. We became thick friends till we left school in 1963. However, we were in touch ever since. That day evening, Abdul Khader came to me before leaving the school, and said sorry, and that he wanted to be my friend. I gracefully accepted ... !  

I will be telling more about my school days, but first let me tell you why I consider names indeed matter a lot. Amavasai was telling me about his recent visit to the bungalow of Abdul Khader at Lucknow. They were meeting after almost 40 plus years. The initial ‘Ubhaya Kusalopari” etc., were over, and after Abdul introduced his wife to Amavasai, he asked about the children of Abdul. He told, the first two were already married and the third will soon get married. He called his first daughter, and when Amavasai asked her what her name was, she replied “NC” and went away. Then the second daughter came, and told her name was “MC”. Now Amavasai knew that in North people choose all kinds of names, like Babloo, Dubloo, Inki, Pinky, Ponky, and all weird names one can imagine. This was something he wasn't prepared for. He asked, “Is there any special reason for you to choose these two odd names?”

Abdul replied, “ Arre, nothing special, yaar. Soon after marriage, we wanted to know how it feels like having a child. So, because of Natural Curiosity, our first daughter was born. So we names her, NC. Amavasai asked, “What about the second?” Abdul replied, “After 4 years, we wanted to have another child, since NC should not suffer from the ‘Single child’ syndrome. Thus the second girls was born, and we named her as MC, because she was born out of our Mutual Consent. There was an eeriee silence. Amavasai said, “But you said you have three daughters? Is she here, or gone out or something?” 

Abdul said, “No, No, she is here only’ But he was reluctant to call his third daughter. But Amavasai insisted, and after his repeated requests, he called his third daughter. Amavasai asked her, “Betee, kyaa naam hai theraa?” She ran away without answering. Obviously dismayed, he asked Abdul what her name was.

“Arree, chodo yaar.. Let’s talk about something else” “Come on. You have to tell me. Are we not the best of friends, and you know there’s no secrecy between we two, and Ananth?” With persuasion after persuasion, Abdul very, very reluctantly said that his third daughter was named “ABC”  

Amavasai almost swooned ! The names, NC, and MC, though sounded weird, had some logic behind them. But ABC was something way beyond his wildest imagination. And even after repeated request, Abdul will not tell the reason behind naming his third daughter, “ABC”. Finally, he yielded when Amavasai threatened to severe his friendship unless he told him the reason.

“That?”, “Don’t laugh at me please”                                                                                                   

“That was 'ABSOLUTE  BLOODY  CARELESSNESS', hence the name ABC ......”

I am stopping my First Episode here. More will follow. And wait for further blogs..NOW TELL ME HONESTLY, DON’T YOU AGREE THAT NAMES DO MATTER A LOT, DON’T THEY???

 

a n a n d . . . . .
for ever..........

Friendship isn't about who you have known the longest.

It's about who come and never leave your side.

More will follow ……..

Enjoy......................