My Memories of CSPuram:
Head Master:
I was suffering from mumps. Confined to 'machimel'. Exams started. I was afraid that I will be failed. Head Master was Narayana Mash. Very serious and strict. My mother was his student and hence she managed to get me exempted from exams.
After the exams, I was alright. I had not started attending school. There was a 'thayambu' in the night by a child prodigy (don't remember his name) at Kaappathi Kavu. I fought with mother and accompanied others crossing the river and walking cross country. We got our place in the ground and arranged our 'pai' (mats) for sitting (sleeping?). I turned to my left. I had the shock of my life. Narayana Mash was sitting there.
Cashew nuts:
Returning from quarterly exams in Parli High School. As the paper was easy (or we thought so), me and Rajendran came out half an hour before. It was pre-noon. Nothing to be done at home other than studying, as next day was another exam. So both decided to do something different. On the way, to the right, (before Manthravadi's home), and deep inside, was an orchard (call it thodi). Well fenced. Full of Cashew trees. Ripe fruits with fully grown kernals. We decided to have some. Stealing is not in our dictionary. We just pluck. Rajendran was good at fence jumping and tree climbing. I was supposed to watch if any body was coming, standing outside. Lot of fruits with kernals were plucked and thrown outside the fence and I collected them all. One hand held my shoulder from behind. He was the resident of the house inside the orchard. My voice did not come out to call Rajendran.
I could see Rajendran shivering on the tree after seeing what had happened. I wished he did not fall. He climbed down slowly. The man asked, "why did you do this". We said we wanted only some fruits. We could not see the house inside. Other wise, we would have asked. He said "ok. leave all kernals here and take the fruits. Don't attempt again". Immediately, Rajendran asked him, "shall I pluck some more fruits? We will leave the kernals to you." (That is Rajendran). The man agreed. It appeared he had some other work. He called out somebody from the house. One girl emerged. That was our class mate. (one problem to the other).
That girl was his daughter. She was our class mate for the last few years. An average student. At that point of time, she was in Rajendran's Division. She must have bunked the exam on that day. It suited us. Atleast, she would not divulge about this episode to others. Her father asked her to keep a watch on us (not knowing that she was our class mate). We could make out she was reluctant. The man vanished. She also vanished into the house. We became the licenced fruit pluckers. Needless to say, we returned with lot of cashew fruits and sufficient kernals.
(The kernals were collected by all the boys in many ways during the season. A game was played using them as coins and whoever played well won more of that. At the end of the season, they were burnt in fire and the roasted nuts taken out for eating. We did not know they were expensive).
Epilogue: A few months later, I saw the person in the 'thodi' in one of the houses in the village. He was their 'kudiyan'. That Mami was a good friend of my mother.
The incident left a deep mark in my mind. It was like an inoculation at an early age.
My first remembrance of CSPuram.
I was four or five. Before that I was with my Appa and Amma at Miraj. Once, we all came to CSPuram to my Paatti's house (my mother's mother). After a few days, one afternoon, my father told me that we were going back and hence he would bring a taxi car and left. My mother dressed me up with new clothes and told me that she would go to Lalitha Akka's house (maniamman's daughter) for taking 'vetthilai-paakku' and come back. I was made to sit on the 'thinnai'. I do not know how long I was waiting. Jaanu, the 'malayalachee', came along that way and enquired with me why I was sitting there with new clothes on. I told her what my parents had told me. She said she had seen my mother going away through the 'kollai' of Lalitha Akka's house and I need not wait for them. At that point, I left out a scream which brought my Paati to the front. Jaanu escaped hearing the shouting of my paati before paati could see her.
CSPuram: Always active:
CSPuram was full of activity. Festivals at home, in the temples and the preprations for that. Some festivals for 10 days. Servant maids were busy in all the houses. Tamilians called Chettichies named Ondhi, Cheera, Pottai etc., and Malayalees with mythological names like Dhakshayanee, Rukmini, Karthiyayini, Janaki, Kunhilakshmi etc., would be busy pounding grains, chillies etc., in the 'ural' with 'olakkai' and grinding in the 'ezhudhira kal'. Morning would start with arrival of fire wood in the bullock carts and bargaining would go on for long before being unloaded. The wood cutter would come behind and another bargaining would start. They had to be dried for a few days before being put to use. In the harvest season, it would be 'podumoories' (Bulls laden with paddy bags) in front of the houses who get paddy from their fields. 'Kudiyaans' (tenant farmers) would bring them. Daily morning by 9.00, the 'maattukootam' would start. I.e., Velan would sound every house having cows, and one by one, they would come out of their houses, assemble in the middle of the village, and then taken for grazing. During that time, grown up girls would be behind them to collect the cow dung for use at home. Almost at the same time, children would start for school. The cows would return almost synchronising with the arrival of the children from school at 4.00 in the evening. Hence, they were referred to as 'naalu mani kuttikal'.
Grandmother:
My Paati was busy through out the day doing something or the other. Grinding for the dosa, picking up tamarind or some such thing from the back yard, taking in the dry 'thennammattai', removing the sticks from their dry leaves, and so on. My work was confined to enjoying the delicacies made by her, watching the back yard full of plants where snakes would criss cross between Kannaadi Mama's house in the west to Changathur house in the east, through the back yard, safely sitting in the 'kollathavaram'. Or sitting in the front and watching whatever was happening. Older boys playing, some vadhyar rushing to some place, or servant maids hopping between houses. In case of rain, watching the tea coloured water flowing by, the bubbles created by the drops travelling for sometime in the water and bursting. At no point of time, was I allowed to get down to the street. The reason; feet, legs and the dress could get soiled. Some elder boys started to converse with me. The most memorable was Gopalan who was short. Life could have stood still at that point of time.
But that was not to be. More excitements were in store.
One day, two senior boys, good friends of that time, were playing in front of my house. They were addressing each other with some new words unknown to me. I picked them up, recited to myself and went inside. At that time, my mother had come for a brief visit. When I was again repeating the words, she heard it. She asked me where I learnt it. I said from the boys playing outside. She told me not to go out and tied me to the wooden rod fixed to the ground for churning curd with the ropes attached to it. Later, Paatti came and asked me who did this to me and why. I told her. She freed me (scolding my mother) and asked me not to repeat the words again as they were bad words. (During my later life, in office, whenever a junior was taken to task by any senior, I would find out whether the junior understood the reason for that, and if not, to find out. This incident would come to my mind at such times).
The time for me to become more mobile had come. One day, one boy of my age, plump, chubby, fair, and with wavy hair was standing at the door and asking me, "Mani......kalikka variya?". He was Rajan.
Rajan – My first friend in life:
We started with pulling the Elephant (we had one each) made of wood with four wheels, attached to a string, and whenever it fell to the side, we would beat it with a stick and command, "Nikkaane", then, "Nadakkaane" and so on. Then we switched to 'chakram kambi', and then other games. Our area of operation was Rajan's house to Krishnan Kovil. "Mani...Kalikka varaya?", became daily affair. My Paati would shout, "Vaidyanathan Pullai Vandachu", and tell him, "Appram vaada". Standing behind Paati, I would communicate with my eyes and hands, meaning, "you go, I will be right behind you". Without her knowledge, I would slowly go to the backyard, cross Kannaadi Mama's house, enter Ponnu Periammai's house from behind, and come out to the front, then run to his house. Anna Mami would ask, "Paatitta chonnayoda?", and I would nod my head in affirmative.
The River in the East End and the Japamandapam:
One morning, I found myself alone. I had finished breakfast of neyyappam and idli with chutny that my Paati had given me. No one to be seen around. Then Chengathur Raju was rushing towards east. He asked me, "Ennadaa, why are you sitting alone. Are you coming with me to 'Japamandapam'. That word was new to me. I followed him. After Rajan's house, towards east, was a new territory to me. The lane was getting narrow towards east. After the well, there were houses only to the left. After some distance, it was open. For the first time, I found the river in the east end, that was coming behind our house. (I was used to bathing in the river in the 'kadavu' of 'Collector's house'). What a beautiful sight! Placid waters to our side upto middle. After that, lot of white sand like a beach. One small bird (round in shape) was fluttering above the water maintaining a stationary position. I wanted to stand and watch it. But I had to follow Raju.
I followed Raju through the Ganapathian Kovil. The elevated way was narrow between the wall and the ground and it was frightening to cross that stretch up to the rear side where, under the huge pipal tree was another Ganesh with a group of serpant gods. Getting down was a little difficult and then we reached ‘Japamandapam’. What a beautiful place. A building with tiled roof and verandah, and flight of stairs to reach the water below. A huge wall in the water on the left (called koombu, for slowing down the flow of water). I came to know the reason for the loneliness in the village. All the men were here. Some bathing, some changing, some holding their nose, clasping their palms, reciting some mantras and so on. I was told it was ‘Avaniavittam’. Rajan was there safekeeping his father’s belongings. I sat through the ‘homam’ which was performed in the ‘japamandapam’ and returned home with the group where a feast was awaiting me.
Avaniavittam:
Avaniavittam brings in lot of memories. The film ‘Irumbu thirai’ had been released. It was a Sivaji Ganesan starrer and a box office hit. Subsequently, shirt pieces (in white with black or blue checks) were in the market. I had one with black checks and Rajan with blue checks, bought from the trader who regularly came to the village by bicycle. We were wearing the new shirts on ‘ONAM’ day and displayed to Vaidyanatha Mama. He asked why we were wearing new ones when our ‘visesham’, i.e., Avaniavittam, was on next day. Our reply was, “if we wear shirts tomorrow, we will get no money”.
Avaniavittam got us some coins. Also ‘koupeenams’. Krishnamani Mama used to give red ones to all. We had to say in chorus while entering each house in groups, “Avaniavittam komanam, ambi porandhaal shobhanam, angichi porandhaal aayiram panam”. Ambi (Rajan’s brother) used to stress the last one. Every household used to give one ‘kaalana’ (quarter of an anna, i.e., one sixty fourth of a Rupee). That was the time ‘naya paisa’ was introduced. The first one to bring them to village (as seen by me) was L.V.Krishnan. One evening, he was showing various denominations, one paisa in copper, and others in silver colour and explaining their equivalents in terms of existing ones, to everyone in the presence of Anna Mami. Both the old and new coins were in circulation. One clever senior boy thought of improving his ‘net worth’ by doing some ‘swap’ transactions. He would offer one ‘kaalana’ in exchange of 2 naya paisa from one person and he would repeat this with several persons. For nine ‘kaalanas’ (two and quarter anna), he would get 18 naya paisa which was equivalent of 3 annas. Thus, he could get additional three fourth of an anna just by exchanging. I was wondering, later in my life in Bank, if such brains could be precursor to what is happening in financial markets these days.
Brahmacharyam – Raja the Guru:
The privilege of getting money is only for children up to the ‘thread ceremony’. Life becomes little serious after that. He becomes a ‘brahmachari’ and has to perform certain rituals on a daily basis. It is difficult in the beginning but once accustomed, becomes a part of life. My Grandpa (who was in Kottayam) and father (who was away in AP) had told me to do ‘samidhadhanam’ two times a day (in addition to three times’ sandyavandhanam), i.e., morning and evening, from the date of thread ceremony till ‘thalayavaniyavattam’. Raja s/o Ambi Vadhyar was of great help. He was not only a friend and a guide but also a Guru. He would be with me while collecting the ‘samithu’ for the daily ritual, arrange other materials in Sivan Kovil in the ‘mandapam’ outside the ‘thadapulli’, and bring the fire from the oven. He would also recite the verses until I got it by-heart. This went on for nearly six months. These activities went on in a playful way. It is nice to have another friendly boy as Guru. (He was my brother’s good friend and class mate).
Raman the village barber:
Any mention of ‘avaniavittam’ will not be complete without taking the name of Raman, the ‘aasthana barber’ of CSPuram. Raman was as important as anybody else in the morning of ‘Avaniavittam’, esp., for brahmacharis. He would be available anywhere, but difficult to locate. The hunt would start from 4.00 in the morning and those would be lucky who could get him before 7.00.
For that matter, any Sunday sans amavasya or any other auspicious occasion, he would be in demand. His priority would be the houses where he got yearly share of paddy out of their paatam. For others, he would charge 2 annas per head. I cannot forget the Sunday when Hastagiri and I went in search of him from 7.00 in the morning till 10.30. Not that he was very good. There was no other go. His machine (don’t know how old it was), instead of removing the hair by cutting, would pluck in such a way, that you would regret for being a boy. (His son who succeeded him was so sentimental that he could not even think of discarding the instruments). When I was in search of him, Hastagiri was also looking for him and we started joint operation. Someone would say he was in this house and then that house. We must have combed all the houses from west to east. Krishna Mama was reading newspaper sitting in his favourite ‘easy chair’ in front of his house. Hastagiri took courage to ask him if Raman had come there. Without lifting his eyes came the reply, “Raman Palakkattukku poyirukkaan”. (He must have meant his son). Next, we landed up in a house where three paatis were staying. Hastagiri went upto ‘Nezhi’ and enquired. It seemed some infighting was going on. Pat came the reply in a loud voice. “Ramanum illai krishnanum illai, po…”. Hastagiri, came out running for his life. I was feeling terribly hungry. No food till you take bath. That day, to say in Chennai Tamil, “Vazhkaye veruthu pochu”.
Sivaraman – Asthana Vidwan:
Once I mentioned about Raman, my memories are naturally drawn to ‘aasthaana vidwan’ (nadaswaram), Sivaraman. He was also recipient of the annual share of paddy from the ‘paatam’, not from households, but from the Devaswom. Hence, he would be present for playing the pipe on all occasions in the temples throughout the year. I was chewing peppermint or some such thing when he was playing, standing in front of him. Echumanakutty (C.V.Lakshmanan), pulled me aside and cautioned me not to stand in front of him chewing something. The reason was that, while playing the pipe, as it was, lot of saliva used to pour though the pipe. Once, when one boy was licking from a fresh tamarind fruit, albeit unwittingly, that too standing before Sivaraman when he was playing, he could not control the increased flow that he stopped playing and accused the boy of deliberately teasing him. His playing was ‘relatively’ good. (We came to know this after hearing his son playing).
One evening during Kumbhabishekam in the late sixtys, there was no particular programme in the night. I was told to fetch something to Sivan Kovil from ‘Periaam’. Since Sivaraman and co., were simply sitting, and that the sound system was also idle, Gopalan (CS) sold an idea to Sivaraman to play his best before the mike, so that the entire village could hear and enjoy his music. Sivaraman summoned all his talents and was playing conscious of his being heard by all in the village. (Reality could have been different). I was running to the temple fetching something. After putting on the sound system initially, Gopalan had put it off. No one knew this. I could hear the music from the speakers till I reached near the temple and then it stopped. Once I entered the ‘Anaivasal’, I announced, suo motto, that the music was heard in the village and now it stopped. (I had thought that it was a failure of the sound system). Angered, Sivaraman stopped playing. That gave enough ammunition to Gopalan to train his gun on me.
Echumanakutty:
Talking of nadaswaram and Thavil, one cannot forget to mention about Echumanakutty (EK) (C.V.Lakshmanan). If majority of the boys were fond of Chendai and associated vaadyams, EK was fond of Thavil. His special attention would make the player either give his best or become uncomfortable. He would even snatch the instrument and play it himself. He was the one to announce to us the dates of the programme of Valayapatti Sundaram, Kaaraikurichi Arunachalam, Shaik Chinnamoulana etc., during Kalpaathi Theru. He would sit in the front row in the night wearing the towel in the form of Mysore turban and thoroughly enjoy. I think if he had undergone formal training in thavil vaadyam, he would have excelled in the field. He was ‘Echuma’ for his peers. He was my class mate in 8th Std. Always cheerful and helpful. He used to encourage me both in games and other activities. He used to call me ‘Manicha’ at times. I cannot forget my last meeting with him at Echaapaati’s house when he was immobilized. He was very cheerful even then.
STONE AGE:
When I studied about ‘stone age’ in the Social Studies some time during schooling, the first thing that came to my mind was this. Did I and my group take birth in CSPuram straight after living our life in the ‘stone age’? We could not imagine a life without stones. That was our play thing as also weapon. Flat stones were used for throwing in the water. It should not go into the water nor fly in the air. It should fly in the air by touching the water frequently. The number of times the stone touched the water and escaped and the length of the travel decided the efficiency of the thrower. That was a game. Another game was ‘Adu puli’ (Goat and Tiger) sitting under a tree. The drawing would be even inscribed on some stones. In the evenings, we (a group of about six) would select the deepest spot in the river and the eldest one would throw one stone of medium weight into the water. Others would go into the water and pick it up. The one who picked it up won. Once, I went into the water just before it was thrown and it landed on my head. Because it was inside the water, the impact was less, but all the same, it cut into the skin and blood started flowing out. Next is getting various items from trees like mangoes, tamarind, blue berry etc. The most efficient could get even coconuts by throwing stones, namely, my brother Sundaram and Rajan. It was an unwritten rule that when somebody saw a dog, he had to throw a stone at it. (Maneka Gandhi was not there in the scene in those days). The dog would know when the person bent forward to pick a stone. Ramanatha Mama (Hastagiri’s father) was an expert at it. He would pick up the stone with his legs bent backwards without the dog noticing and aim in such a way that the dog would not be able to escape the speed of his action. Later on, the dogs started running away at his sight. Once in the middle of a quarrel between Sundaram and Rajan (there used to many between them in spite of being partners in many ventures), Rajan threw a piece of sharp edged granite with such precision that it tore the skin on the back foot of Sundaram and blood started oozing. Sundaram coolly wiped the blood with his right hand index finger and walked away. Next day, they were together in some other action. When I think of it now, I wonder if these traits did not expose the ‘kshatriya gunas’ latent in many of us.
