A VISIT TO OLAVAKKOT JUNCTION RAILWAY STATION

 VISIT TO OLAVAKKOT RAILWAY STATION

It was annual vacation time for our school. There was plenty of time at our disposal to enjoy. I and my friends got tired of playing various games and gossiping. In those days, there were no pastimes like browsing the net, playing games on the mobile or watching television, because none of them ever existed. Even possessing a radio was a luxury. Very few people had a telephone connection. I am talking of the days when many of the houses were using only kerosene lamps and the people depended on firewood for cooking. We kept all the doors of the house for ventilation and used the palm-leaf hand-fans when we sweat. Well, let me not go away from the topic.

I have many friends in the agraharam, a cluster of Kerala Brahmin houses built in two rows facing each other with a temple at one end. These friends had very short and funny nicknames by which they were known. Thus my friends were Cheenu, Chuppamani,  Kittu, Chandru, Mani, Vytha, Vichu etc. Their real names were Sreenivasan, Subramanian, Krishnan, Ramachandran, Subramanian, Vydianathan and Viswanathan respectively. One evening, I, Cheenu suggested that we could spend some time at the Railway Station nearby. The name of this station was Olavakkot, or Olavakkod (the last syllable,‘d’ to be pronounced as in ‘dam’). This station has now been renamed as the Palakkad Junction. It was located just on the other side of Kalpathy river. We could cross the river and walk half-a-mile (it was not kilometers then) further to reach the spot. The water in the river used to be just knee-deep and the total walking distance was 2 km only.

We three reached the Station. Cheenu was chosen as our leader in this venture, because his father was a station master. Cheenu bought the platform tickets, costing 2 annas (1/8 Re) each. Today, they cost Rs. 10/- and even Rs. 50/- for some stations. This ticket was a small thick piece of cardboard with the particulars of the station’s name, the words “platform ticket”, the cost and a serial number. These tickets were valid for the whole day, i.e. till 12 midnight, unlike today. We entered the platform and started investigating the premises. What we found forms the topic of this article. Cheenu saw that a train had arrived in Platform No.1 and would be leaving in the opposite direction, towards Dindigul. The engine had gone ahead so that it could reverse on a turn table. Afterwards, the engine would be brought to the front of the train for its onward journey. Cheenu called us to hurry up. We two followed him to the “turn-table” where the engine reversed its direction. We reached there just as the engine was approaching the bridge in the well to its middle part. There it just parked.

The turn-table was a shallow circular well with a railway track as one of its diameters. The engine approached the well through its track and went through the tracks to the middle of the well. Some railway workers walked around the well pushing a lever at either end of the ‘diameter’. We all watched with interest as the engine slowly turned through 180 degrees and finally came to a position such that it could take the same track, now facing the opposite direction. At the go-ahead signal from the workers, the engine moved out of the well, took the adjacent track and reached the front of the train. Then it reversed and got connected to the bogies to start its journey towards Pollachi.

        As the engine was busy, we three got into a compartment to examine the interior. We ventured inside a third class bogie. There were no single seats here as in the broad gauge trains. The height was also smaller. There was a long corridor with cubicles of 6 seats in each cubicle. The seats were just wooden benches, without cushion. There was not much leg-space between the rows of seats. It would be very uncomfortable for long journeys,

 Suddenly, Cheenu asked us to listen to the bell. It was like a temple bell. It was just three beats with a small interval. Cheenu told us that it was a clearance bell for the metre-gauge train to start. The guard from the last bogie waved the green flag. Giving a long whistle, the train started. As the last bogie passed us, I noticed an “LV”  board behind the train. Cheenu said, “It is a short for ‘Last Van’. The station master should confirm that it was there. In every train, the last bogie should have this board. That way, they would come to know if a part of the train had got disconnected during its run. You can see, there would not be this board in the back of other bogies.”

Then Cheenu took us to the pillar displaying the name of the station. It was written “Olavakkot junction” in Rnglish. I asked Cheenu, “Why can’t they use ‘d’ instead of ‘t’ as the last letter? In Malayalam, it is known as “Olavakkod”. I can understand if they don’t have a proper letter. It is not the case here?”

Cheenu replied, “This is how the British people pronounced it. There are worse cases. Like, “Trivandrum, Trichur, Cannanore, Tellicherry, Badagara,  Alwaye etc. where, in spite of availability of proper letters, they are not using them. Since we were under their rule, we have to follow them. Soon, the spellings will be changed.”

“See Cheenu, What is this MSL 250 written below in this name-board?” I asked Cheenu.

“Your observation is very good. MSL is abbreviation for Mean Sea Level. This place is about 250 feet above sea level. You will find such information in all stations, in their name-boards.” He replied.

As we moved, I wanted to collect more information about the railways. Presently, I saw OJA written in the pillars and walls of the stations. When I asked about this, Cheenu said, it is a code for this station. OJA refers to Olavakkot Junction. Invariably, in the codes for the Junctions, ‘J’ letter will be there. But there are exceptions.”

A water tank for the engine

An engine receiving water

Another engine being served with water

Cheenu pointed at a huge metal tank kept at a height, on the side of a railway track. He said, “See, that is a water tank. The water needed for the steam generation by the engine, is stored in that tank. The water is sent through the huge pipe line to the hollow pillar and to the horizontal pipe. The engine comes there to fill its belly with water. You can see the arrangement by which water from the reservoir reaches the engine. The water tank comes in different shapes also: spherical, hemispherical, cylindrical etc.

I had a doubt. “Cheenu, if the train works on water, why it is called theevandi, fire-vehicle, in Malayalam and pukaicandi, smoke-vehicle, in Tamil?”

“It is simple. People do not see the water inside the belly of the engine. But, they see the huge fire burning inside the engine and also the thick smoke coming out of the chimney. Before you ask, let me tell yuou why water is needed. It is the water which is heated to get converted to superheated steam, using the coal at the bottom of the cylindrical portion of the engine. You can see a big fire inside the engine and a foreman feeding it with more and more coal. The superheated steam operates on some complicated lever-system, which ultimately moves the wheels. The coal emits black smoke when it is not fully utilized. If you don’t know, let me tell you, these engines are called ‘steam engines’.”

Our attention was drawn to the sound of the continuous ringing of the bell outside the station master’s office. The sound ended with three sharp strikes. Cheenu told us that the bell was announcing that a train was to reach our station from Shoranur side shortly. As instructed by him, we three followed a railway worker to a shed called signal cabin. The man climbed over the steps on a staircase to reach the cabin. Since we could see the inside of the cabin, we stood below. In the cabin, he was pulling some upright levers with force towards him. Cheenu drew our attention to the single signal far away. It had tilted down. It meant that the train could come to the station. The station master had set the track accordingly. The man in the cabin whistled to the man at the railway crossing nearby and obtained the return whistle. He closed the gate at the level crossing for the vehicles on the road. We saw the left signal at the top of the double signal pillar, near the station, had also tilted down. These signals are known as “semaphore” signals. This signal showed the passengers the platform in which the train would be arriving. Here, however, there was no confusion: there was only one platform for such trains, coming from either direction. A plan to construct another platform, to be called as Platform No. 3, was in the pipeline.

In between, we found time to check our weights from the machine which threw out a card mentioning our weight and giving a forecast, in return for a ten-paise coin dropped in a slot after standing on a small platform.

A platform ticket sample	A single signal	A double signal
A level crossing, closed for the train	Level crossing, being opened for road traffic	A journey ticket
nside a signal cabin	Another cabin   on the right	A railway porter
A RMS bogie	A steam train with red-coloured bogies	A weighing machine

Soon, another bell, just three strikes, informed the passengers that trhe train could be “sighted”.  Yes, we could see a small movement like that of a worm, at the diswtance, where the track had a curvature.  Cheenu told us, “See, that is No. 2, Mangalore-Madras Mail. The one travelling in the opposite direction is No. 1, Madras-Mangalore Mail.  You see, Mail and express trains are fast trains, skipping some small stations on its way. The difference is just that the Mail trains carry the postal articles also, in a separate compartment. You can distinguish that bogie by its characteristic red colour. Just watch for it.”

We saw that the platform became quite alive by now. Passengers left the waiting rooms with their luggage to the platform. The porters brought the luggage to the passengers. Some porters were looking for clients getting down from the train. There were hawkers getting ready with their ware, like meduwada, bhajjia, halwa, banana chips, plantain and other fruits, cool drinks and air-pillows. The man selling coffee and tea had one big aluminium kettle attached with a stove below in one hand and an aluminium bucket of water with 4 to 6 glasses immersed inside. He had the maximum ordeal compared to others: he had to take out the glass tumbler from the bucket, fill it with the hot drink, pass it to the passenger inside the train, wait for him to drink and get the glass back and also the payment. At a time, he could serve 4 or 5 passengers. As I waited to see how he collected the money and the glass, I saw one tumbler falling off and breaking. The passenger paid for the tea, but not for the broken tumbler.

A double bell was sounded then. The train was ready to leave. The guard in the last bogie waved the green flag and the driver responded with w long whistle. Producing some puffing sound, the engine started pulling the bogies. The people in the platform waved their hands to the passengers. Slowly, the hustle subsided.

Cheenu turned towards us. “Shall we wait for the 82 Jayanti Janata Express, which would be here in another half hour? There won’t be more fun. We will see the same scene again.”

Vytha and I said, “Enough, Cheenu. Let us go home. It is getting dark. I am afraid to cross the rive in the dark.”

We three then turned towards home, fully satisfied about the information learnt about the railways. 

We three then turned towards home, fully satisfied about the information learnt about the railways.

       As we started walking, I turned back to see a pair of signal posts, facing opposite directions. A train was approaching the signal post facing it, obeying the directive of the tilted signal, giving permission for the train to proceed.There was no fail-safe system and everything had to be done manually. Still, the system was working beautifully and with all safety to the passengers. 

CORRUPTION IS THE WAY OF LIFE

 

CORRUPTION IS A WAY OF LIFE

It was the year 1970 or so. We were staying in the spacious quarters provided by BARC, in Anushaktinagar. As usual, I was busy with the task of separating the pebbles and paddy grains from rice grains for our lunch. I get the rice from the ration shop only. Sale of rice, sugar and wheat had been banned for sale in the open market. In order to be a honest citizen, I did not try to get good rice from “black” market. My family was not happy with the taste of the ration rice, but there was no other go since I wanted to follow the rule. Of course, it swallows my precious morning time.

There was the door-bell. I opened the door and welcomed my friend Seshadri of the 6^th floor. He had just returned from Palghat. He stayed in the 6^th floor while I occupied the 8^th.

I said, “Welcome back to Anushaktinagar. How was the journey?”

He answered, “All fine. There was some tension before boarding the train. But, I could make it”.

“Well, what happened?”

Meanwhile, my wife brought the milk and curd for him, as per his request by phone yesterday.

“Thanks. By the way why are you struggling with this ration rice? Can’t you get some better, ready-to-use variety which is available in Trombay fishermen’s colony? You hav to pay a bit more.”

“But, Seshadri, sale of rice is banned in the open market. So, purchasing rice from Trombay colony is against the law. I wish to be an honest citizen. What if the police catch you?”

“Moorthy, for your information, there is a nexus between the colony people and the police. The police tell them beforehand the day of the raid and they com and confiscate a few sacks of rice as decided between them and the sellers. Afterwards the sale resumes. The police get their hafta.”

Seshadri collected the milk and curd and took leave of us saying, “If I were honest and sincere like you, I could not have reached Bombay this morning. I gave some money to the bus driver and the conductor at Mannarghat, to take me to Olavakkot station ahead of their scheduled time, to enable me catch the train. The small ‘bribe I gave the bus-staff helped me in reaching the station in time

My wife came near me and said, “Dear, what he says is correct. Why should we fight with the ration rice when we can buy a better quality?”

“My dear, a good citizen should be law-abiding. Our Government has prohibited the sale of rice, wheat and sugar in the open market. They are doing it for the welfare of the people at large. As an honest citizen, I don’t want to disobey government directives. Full stop. Is the breakfast ready? I will go to VT and see the availability of tickets for our trip to Coimbatore next month.”

When I reached Chembur Station, only one booking window was open in the west side. There were about 20 persons in the queue. So, I hoped to see a shorter queue in the window on the foot-overbridge. Lo, here too, the queue was quite long. I joined the queue in the rear.

I saw one railway official entering the booking hall. I called out to him. He answered my query that they were unable to open another window because the person had gone for lunch. I pointed out to him the notice, which said it was not his lunch time. But he went in without caring to answer me.

 

Within a minute, I saw a man approaching one at the head of the queue requesting him to take a ticket for him to VT. I called out to him and asked him to join the queue behind me. He implored that his relative has been admitted in the St. George Hospital and the doctor had asked him to report there early.  The man whom he requested showed his helplessness because of my objection.

Suddenly, another person standing third in the line, called him and said, ‘I will take your ticket, VT, no? Let me see who objects. You have a genuine reason: you have to reach hospital early.’

Soon, both of them left the spot with the tickets. I heard the man who received the tickets telling the other that he was actually going to see a movie at Regal Cinema. The other man only laughed telling him that he himself had been doing the same trick sometimes. He could know that the other fellow got the hospital idea only when I asked him to join the queue. See, how dishonesty pays!

I took a return ticket to VT, since I could avoid the queue at the booking counter for the return trip. By that time 2 or 3 trains had already left the station. I got the next train and thankfully, got a seat also.

Surprisingly, the man sitting next to me was my friend, Raghavan, with his wife. I greeted them and told the purpose of my travel. He informed me that they were going for a movie in New Empire theatre. No, they had not booked the tickets in advance.

 “I will purchase the tickets from the man selling them outside the theatre.” He coolly replied.

“But, that is black market. Should you encourage it?”

“My dear Moorthy, hear me patiently. We could not plan this earlier since both of us are working. Today, we got our afternoon off. Any extra amount I give to the tout is just service charges.  By so doing, I save another trip to the theatre on another day, we could utilize this ‘off’ usefully, and save the cost of travel another time. So, it is worth giving that extra.”

“Raghavan, whatever you may say, I will not approve it. That ticket seller could have got a way of earning money decently, without resorting to black-marketing. That way, tickets would be available to more people too from the booking window itself.”

“Moorthy, today’s world is not for honest people like you. I bet you won’t stand a chance to get your ticket tomorrow unless you pay to a tout like I am going to do. Anyway, best of luck.” Another example of how you can be dishonest and corrupt to achieve what you want.

When I saw the queue at the only booking window for the Jayanthi Janatha express, I was very disappointed. During those times, passengers from any part of the city and even Kalyan, had to travel all the way to the only booking window at VT to have the confirmed tickets. Also, there was no indication if a confirmed ticket would be available till you reached the counter.

I approached the last one in the queue and learnt that I would have to remain in the queue till 10 pm when one Railway employee would come and number my position in the queue in the reservation application form, when the counter opened next day at 8 am. After receiving the number, the person could go home and report at the window at 8 am. He added, “The first five persons in the queue are reserved for a dada, who books tickets for people having enough money to pay in black.”

It was impossible for me to wait till night. But, it was what the Railway had decided. We should follow it if we wanted to book our journey ticket. As I was pondering what I should do, someone touched me and asked me to move out of the queue and follow him. He took me to a corner and said, “I will get you the confirmed ticket, but you should pay double the fare to me.” He asked me to bring the money and give it to him by night along with the application form.

“No, no. It is against the rule. I don’t want to encourage black-marketing. You can leave me.”

But he didn’t leave me. He said, “Sir, it is not black-marketing. I am your agent to get the tickets for you. You are only paying the wages for my service. I am saving all the trouble and suffering you would have to undergo otherwise. Sir, we are not as educated as you because we were born in a very poor family. We too have to live. We don’t know English, we did not study stenography, we did not get the expertise and finance to do any business. This is the only way we have to survive in this city. And, the extra money you are giving me, is not all mine. I have to share it with many others.”

Perhaps he is right. Honesty does not help people like him. I took an application form from him and told him to wait for me before 8 pm. He said, “Thank you, Sir. My name is Manickam. I will be here waiting for you. My man will be positioned third in the queue tomorrow morning.”

I proceeded to the local train for the return trip to Chembur. I was oscillating between the two proposals: whether to be an honest citizen by remaining in the line till night and take the risk of not getting any confirmed ticket or to pay the premium amount extra to that tout and be assured of a confirmed ticket, which is against the law. That man looked healthy and young and can take some means to earn a honest living. There are newspaper delivery men, street-food vendors, vegetable-and-fruit-sellers etc. who lead decent lives without resorting to black-marketing. Finally, I decided to go honest and dropped the idea to meet that fellow in the evening.

At Chembur station, I was getting down the stairs when I crossed my friend Menon. On his query, I told him that I was returning from VT.

“Is it so? Then you have the return ticket with you? Please give it to me. I can use it for my return journey”, he said.”

“But, Menon, it is a used ticket already!”

“Where is it written that it is a used ticket?”

“I know. I have used it. I am supposed to hand it over to the ticket collector. But, TC was not in sight.”

“That means the TC was not sincere in carrying out his duty. He is not honest for the job.”

Menon continued: “Moorthy, Come to the real world, not the ideal world. Honesty does not pay at present. Even the Railways are adopting dishonest ways. See, a man purchasing a ‘tatkal’ ticket one day prior to the journey has to pay a premium; he can’t avail concessions for which he is normally eligible and can’t get any refund if he cancelled it. And there are trains for which Railway charges dynamic fares depending on demand. Don’t you think these are dishonest?”

On my way up to my quarters I called up Seshadri in his house.

He opened the door. “Well, Moorthy, What happened?”

“Seshadri, when is your next trip to Trombay fishing colony? I want to purchase some good rice. And, I am coming with you.”

NAME FOR THE BABY

 

NAME FOR THE BABY

As we sat or our breakfast, there was the door-bell. I got up and opened the door for my friend Vinod. His flat was in the next floor below. He and his wife used to entertain us with their wit and they were very jovial. I have been their guest at breakfast on several occasions. He looked terribly upset and worried. It was very abnormal to find him this way.

I asked him to sit down and join us in the breakfast. He said, “Sorry, KRK, I am not in a mood to enjoy your offer. I am in deep trouble. Perhaps you only can save us. Please help me.”

“Is it money? Tell me your difficulty. Why am I here if I can’t help you.”

“No, KRK, it is not money. “

“Okay, not money. But, sit and have the tea. We will find an answer for your problem.” 

He sat down and took the cup of tea. Let me introduce Vinod to you in short. He married his girl friend, Deepa, against the wishes of their parents.  The parents of both Vinod and Deepa disowned them. Vinod’s parents were disappointed to have lost a good dowry and Deepa’s parents failed to get a foreign based son-in-law. As a result, I was the sole witness for their registered marriage a year back. I assured him once they get a child, the parents would forget all the past and accept them along with the grandchild.  Now, their infant son is one month old and they were planning the naming ceremony.  Vinod called up his parents begging them to pardon them. Vinod’s father was ready to pardon them but he insisted that the newborn should be given his name. When Deepa called her father, she too got a similar answer. He also wanted his name to be given to the baby as a condition to accept her and the child.

Vinod continued. “Now, Deepa insists that our son should bear her father’s name only. She says she will leave me if I did not agree to her father’s demand. I know it is only a threat, but I don’t want to spoil our relation on this silly reason.”

“That’s bad. But, I have hope.  I believe in Lord Guruvayurappan, the reigning deity of Keralam. I will pray to him and he will surely find out a solution. I know your father’s name. It is part of your full name. But do you know Deepa’s father’s name?”

“No” he replied. I said, “No problem. I will find out from her tis evening.”

I lighted a lamp at the picture of Guruvayurappan and prayed. Óh Lord, Vinod has placed all his faith in me and I don’t want to disappoint him. You know the problem. Please help me.”

I then went to meet Deepa in the floor below. She welcomed me. “Vinod had just gone to the market. Have some kantha-poha as you wait for him.”

I said, “Actually, I came to see the child. Where is he?” She led me to the cradle in which the baby was lying. He smiled at me, or so I thought. I called ou to him as ‘Junior Vinod’ and kept a currency note in his hand.

Then I turned to her as I tasted the dish. “What is the problem now?” I asked her.   

She answered, “My parents are ready to accept us on a condition that the baby should be named after my father.”

“And, what is your father doing?” I enquired.

“He retired as a lecturer in English. He is fond of writing poems and short stories. He has published a book of his poems. Yes, this is it.” She showed me the book.

The book contained verses in English. I scanned one of them. Pretty good. I put my finger on the name printed on the wrapper and said, “So, this is the name which your son should get, is it not?” I returned the book. “Don’t worry, I will get a solution and come back here in the evening.”

I reached home and straight went to the pooja room where Lord Guruvayurappan was smiling at me from the picture. “Oh Lord, how easily you have solved my dilemma? Thank you, thank you.”

I went to my study and took two pieces of paper. I wrote Vinod’s father’s name in one and Deepa’s father’s name in the other. Then, I rolled them tight and kept them at Lord’s feet.

I called up Vinod and asked both of them to come up to my house with their child immediately.

“I have the answer to your problem.” I told them. Very soon they appeared at my door.

“Come. Sit down. I have the solution which both should agree to, as Lord’s will. Both of you believe in God’s decision, don’t you? Come to my pooja room and accept Lord’s decision.”

“But, KRK, I cannot displease my dad” said Vinod. “Nor can I” ecoed Deepa/

I turned to them. “Listen, pray to your favourite deity in this picture of Guruvayurappan. The baby can have only one name. Leave it to your Lord for making the choice. Here, I have two rolls of paper. I have written Vinod’s fater’s name in one, and Deepa’s father’s name in the other. I am keeping them at Lord’s feet. Bring your son to the Lord’s feet and let him touch one of the chits. Whichever he touches will be the one with his name. Please accept His decision.”  

Vinod brought the baby to the Lord after a brief prayer. Deepa too joined him. The baby dangled his finger here and there, and soon grabbed one chit. Vinod took it and opened.

“Thank you, Lord. My son will get my father’s name finally.” He cried and jumped with joy.

“Deepa snatched the chit from his hand and exclaimed, “No, Vinod. This chit has my father’s name. Not yours. At last, my son will have my father’s name” exclaimed Deepa.

I stood there and laughed.

Vinod came and looked at the chit in Deepa’s hand. “See, it is ‘Ramesh’. It is my father’s name.”

Deepa said loudly, “No, it is my father’s name.”

I went to them and said. “Be calm. Both of your fathers have the same name. That is how your wishes are fulfilled amicably. Be happy now. Call your parents for the naming ceremony.”

 

STORY OF GIFTS

I and my wife were at the breakfast table. I opened the wedding invitation card lying on the dining table. My friend Seshadri’s son’s marriage was just a week later. We two had decided to attend the function as it was just three kilometres away. My worry was about the gift to be given.

“Madhura, I have an idea. Do you remember we got a beautiful glass-bowl as a gift for our marriage?” I asked her.

“Well. That was more than 25 years back. I don’t recollect. But, why you talk about it now?”

“We did not use it at all, as we had a good wall clock already and there was no space and no need to have another. So I had kept it safe in a suitcase in the attic.” I said.

My wife is intelligent. She said, “So, you want to give it as our gift to Seshadrimama’s son?”

“Exactly. I will see if it looks new and repack it in a good wrapper. That will be a good present. We need not scratch our heads thinking about a proper gift.” I said.

Surprisingly, she agreed. I brought it sown from the attic and found to be looking very good. My wife only remarked,.”

I wrapped it in a fresh gift wrapper, wrote our blessings to the boy on a card and stuck on the wrapper. Now, it looked really grand.

As arranged, the Ramanathan couple picked us up in their car at our gate on their way to the venue.  I joined Ramanathan in the front, while my wife joined his wife behind. On the way, Ramanathan spotted my gift pack and asked me, “You are giving him a gift?”

“Yes. We thought giving an article is better than cash. In the case of cash, it will be spent in no time and they won’t remember us at all. but If it is an article, they will preserve it for a long time, remembering us every time they see it.” I replied. “And, what about you?” I enquired.

“Well, Sheela feels the other way. If we give cash, they will pool all the cash and purchase something useful but too costly for them otherwise. Thus, they would prefer cash.”

“Both views are correct. We will not debate on that topic now.” I said.

“Why?” Ramanathan asked.

Ecause the car is yours. If I don’t agree with you, you may ask us to get down.” I said laughingly. He knew I was just joking. He laughed and patted me on my back.

At the venue, I met several friends and acquaintances. We gossiped on all topics under the sun. We had nothing else to do except watch the stage, which was encroached by the photographers, masking the view of the proceedings. Some flowers were thrust on our hands by a volunteer. We threw these flowers towards the stage, while the tying of the maangalyam was in progress. Of course, the flowers fell only on the photographers and the vadhyar who were covering the proceedings. After some time, we heard the vadhyar announcing “Aseervaadam. Athais, mamas and other relatives and friends of the bride and groom be available here.”

I was ready with my present. I and my wife together handed over the well-wrapped gift to the groom. We were happy when the photographer took our photo. Thus, our part in the function was over. Slowly, we walked to the dining hall for the sumptuous lunch.

“Madhura, now do you agree I am smart? I could make use of an unwanted gift for a good occasion. It saved a lot of expenses too.” I said beamingly to my wife.

About an year passed. One day, Ramanathan and his wife came to us with an invitation card. “My grandson, Vivek’s upanayanam has been fixed on coming Thursday. I had told you about this in our daily meet in the garden, if you remember. We invite you both to come and grace the occasion and bless him.”

“Surely, Ramanathan. Where is it to be held?” I asked.

“In the first floor of the Ayyappan Kovil. Everything is mentioned in the card.”

“Okay. Will you have some coffee?” I enquired. But they said they had to visit more houses.

When they are gone, I turned to my wife. “Now, what we should do for a gift?”

“Let us give some cash only now. When I offer Bhiksha to the boy, I will give him tha cash. Let us not bother ab out aseervadam etc.”, she concluded. I had to agree with her sometimes.

In the hall, I met our friend, Seshadri. I enquired about his son’s wedded life. He told us that they were doing well and that his daughter-in-law was expecting now. In two months, they will be conducting the seemantham function. “I will inform you the date and place. You two have to come and grace the occasion.” He said.

As usual, the vadhyar announced the aseervadam time. I was standing with Seshadri, discussing about Indian political scenario. Seeing me unmoved, Seshadri said, “It is time for aseervadam, Moorthy. Just reminding you, that’s all.”

“My wife will be giving a cash-envelope to the boy when he will be receiving bhiksha from her.”

Immediately Seshadri rushed to the vadhyar and handed a gift parcel to be presented to the boy, with a citation mantra. The boy thankfully accepted the gift with a good smile.

Ramanathan met me later. He asked me, “Last time, you were in favour of presenting a gift in the form of an article. Now, you are giving money, why?”

“Ramanathan, now the boy is a student. He may need a lot of money to buy his educational stationery. We felt that he can pool all the money received and use it to buy his study materials.”

“Yes, you are right,” agreed Ramanathan.

As usual, we three met in the park next day evening. Casually, I said, “Tomorrow is first. That is I have only 30 days more in my office. I am retiring on the last day of the month.”

 “I invite you for my daughter’s grihapravesham next Monday. Take a day’s leave and come,” said Mr Ramanathan. I told him that I cannot make it as I wanted to say good-bye to some of my friends in various sections of the office. I wished all success for that function.

“Oh, you are 60 years old! No one can say that, Moorthy”  Seshadri opined.

“But, are you not celebrating your shashtipoorthy?” asked Ramanathan.

“Shashtipoorthy is to be conducted by the children, not by me. With my son in Canada and daughter in Hong Kong, how can they come together on a mutually agreeable date?”

“So? No celebration of your sixtieth birthday?” Ramanthan looked worried.

“Yes, It will be just another day in my life, that’s all. Moreover, I don’t believe in such celebrations. The money is just wasted, in the form of decorations, dakshina, purchases etc.”

“No, we don’t think so. We want this day in your life to be memorable.” Seshadri said.

“Ramanathan agreed with him. When is your star birthday?” Ramanathan asked me.

“On 13^th” I replied.

“Okay, it is next Thursday. We two and our wives will have lunch at your house. It should be a real sadya on plantain leaf, with payasam and vadas “ Ramanthan proposed.

Seshadri said, “Your idea is very good. I second it. Don’t worry about the preparations. My wife will prepare beautiful paalpayasam. Since it is for your birthday, she will be happy to do it.”

Seshadri added, “My wife will prepare aviyal and vadas. She is very proud of thiese dishes.”

Ramanathan said, “All you have to do is get the plantain leaves and banana chips. Cook enough rice. Arrange for enough curd. For the rest of the things, leave it to the three ladies.”

Things went off as planned. All of us enjoyed the lunch which included the paalpaayasam and aviyal and vadas by our guests. The three ladies put their expertise together to cook tasty sambar, rasam, poriyal, banana chips and pappad. It was a rare chance to sit cross-legged on the floor and eat out of plantain leaf..I found that I could sweep the payasam out of the leaf with my hand. It was fun to see both my friends struggling to take out the flowing payasam from the leaf. Ultimately, they were given tumbler and spoon 

Before leaving, Both Ramanathan and Seshadri together handed a wrapped gift to me. Seshadri said, “Don’t take is as a big gift. It was a piece received at the time of my son’s marriage. He could not find enough space to keep it in his luggage and said he had one similar to this one. Thus, he gave it to me. I too could not hammer a nail on the wall for hanging it. I presented it to Ramanathan’s daughter for the grihapravesham function hoping that it will decorate her rooml.”

Ramanathan continued, “My daughter gave it to me, asking me to replace the old one with this. But, I thought of you and accepted it for presenting to you on a good occasion. It is a  combined  present from us both. So, please accept it as a token of remembrance for today’s get together. ” The two couples clapped and chorused ”Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Moorthy, happy birthday to you!”.

I appreciated their gesture and accepted it. After they left, I and my wife opened the wrap with curious looks. What we found shocked us. It was the wall-clock we had presented to Seshadri’s son for his marriage two years ago.

HOW I MET MY WIFE

 

HOW I MET MY WIFE

I was enjoying the paradise on earth; the life of bachelorhood. I share a room with three others in a flat, paying 30 rupees per month. Get up in the morning, after morning chorus, have a cup of filter coffee at Mani’s café for just 25 paise, have bath and prayer, put on my office dress, take my office bag and get ready to go to office at 8.45 a.m. I walk to the “Society” for my lunch, (“lunch?” I hear you ask. Yes, I take lunch at 9 a.m.), and walk to the stop near King’s Circle Railway Station. Like me, I see many other staff of BARC waiting for our staff bus. The bus passes through Sion, Chembur, Devnar and enters Anushaktinagar. There was a large slum colony there till a couple of years back, going by the name “Janata Colony”. I reach my laboratory in the third floor of Asia’s longest building, called the Modular Laboratories” by 9.50 a.m. sharp. I am busy with my work till 6.15 p.m., taking a half-hour break for some light food in the spacious, well equipped beautifully furnished canteen below. I have heard people remarking that “BARC has Laboratories attached to Canteens, not the other way”). At 6.30, the staff bus takes us all back to the same stops. I reach my room, refresh myself, attend to some personal work and leave for a walk. I visit a temple like Asthika Samaj or my Manimama’s flat nearby. I report at the Society at 8 p.m. for my dinner. I have a chit-chat with my friends at the corner of Giri Trading Agency for some time. I reach my room by 9.30 at night. I hit my bed in an hour. There were no worries, no tension, no disappointments and had no big ambitions. I was happy that I was a Scientist in a prestigious organization of Central Government, in a Chemistry Laboratory. I got promotions regularly and I could improve my academic qualification too.

I got a break for this monotonous but carefree life when one day, Manimama called me up in my office and asked me to see him in the evening. I asked him what the matter was. “Are they at Palghat fine?” He answered, “Everyone is fine. It is about your future. I’ll tell you in the evening.”

I began to ponder. It cannot be my marriage, as he knew I was not yet ready to bring one more person in my life. I reported at Manimama’s after my early meals at the “Society”. Mama had returned from office and taking rest. He asked me to sit comfortably and began.

“Moorthy, what is your age now?”

“Past 30. Will be 31 next April.”

“Don’t you think you are past your marriagable age?”

“Mama, I can’t think of marriage now. I am happy with the life I am having now.”

“What is your problem? Why do you say you can’t get married now?”

“Mama, first, I have a large family to take care. My mother and my siblings.”

“I will answer. Your two sisters are already married. Your brother is not dependent on you, as he is getting his stipend. The two remaining sisters are too young and studying in school. It is a long way off to think of their marriage.”

“Okay, I don’t have a big salary to maintain an additional member in the gamily.”

“If the girl is also employed, she will share the burden. Moreover, Mr. Agarwal is pleased with your valuation of his students’ test papers. He has offered you the assignment of a tutor for which he will pay you by the hour. It will fetch you around Rs. 800 per month, which is more than your BARC salary. You have to sit in his class for two hours twice a week, solving the difficulties of his students. It is a job you like too.”

“That’s good. But I have no accommodation.” I reminded Mama.

“That too I have found a way. Your athan (cousin) Swaminathan has his brand new flat ready for occupation in Mulund. But he is not going to occupy it till his marriage. He is continuing to stay with his brother at Sion. Swaminathan is happy to give that flat on a low rent to you. You visit him in Sion tomorrow or so, to confirm.

“I don’t have any inheritance by way of land or house.”

“Well. Your mother sent me your horoscope to me about two weeks back, with a request to me to look for a girl for you. I circulated it among my friends and now I have a case. The girl’s father visited me two days back, agreeing fully to consider you for his daughter. Her name is Madhuram, a B.A. graduate and working for Central Railway, in the Railway Wagon Workshop, Matunga. Think it over and tell me tomorrow.” Manimama concluded.

“Mama, do you have her photo?” I meekly asked.

“I sent it to you mother. She has sent me a post card, giving her approval for the girl.” He said.

I was disappointed. I returned to my room and sat pondering. My room-mate Balasubramanian found me and came to me. He asked, “Moorthy, is there any problem? Why you look so tense?”

I told him the whole story. I added, “Balu, I want to see the girl and see if I will like her. I don’t want to visit her house formally If I don’t like her. How can you help me in this?”

“I am working in Central Railway, but not in Matunga. And, I did not have any chance to visit the Matunga workshop. So, I don’t know anybody there. “ He replied.

After sometime, he asked me, “Can you take the morning off tomorrow?”

“I will go late to my office tomorrow. I will take you to Matunga Workshop to see the girl” he said.

Matunga workshop started working at 9 a.m. Balu and I reached the gates of Matunga Railway workshop. Since Balu had his identity card, he could take e also in. On the way he heard two persons leaving the office talking to each other. Balu just went and listened to them. One of them turned to him and asked, “What do you want?” Balu replied, “I am from our office at VT. We want to meet Mr. Bahuleyan. I just heard from you that you could not meet him.”

“Yes, he is absent probably. We did not see him in his seat.” They said and went away.

Balu pushed me further. He asked someone about Madhuram. He pointed to a girl sitting in concentration at her work a little away from us. We went to her table and stood. The girl lifted her face up. “Well, how can I help you?” she asked us.

Balu replied. “I am from Accounts Division, at VT. We had some work with Mr. Bahuleyan. Can we meet him?”

“The girl looked around and said, “I don’t see him in his seat. Wait, let me see the muster and find out.” So saying, she walked to the APO’s table an opened up the muster.

Balu said in secrecy:”Moorthy that is the girl. Make a decision.” So, it was Madhuram! I liked her features. Her face resembled the popular Tamil actress, Savitri. He had two pigtails one on each side of her shoulders. Her gait was smart and her voice, sweet. Not a ‘modern’ girl as I feared. I said to Balu, “Balu, thanks. I totally approve her.”

Madhuram returned to us and said, “I am afraid, he is absent today.”

Balu replied, “That’s okay. By the way, this is my friend and room-mate, Krishnamoorthy. He is working in BARC,”

Suddenly, her face showed a surprise. Then, she said, “Happy to see you here.”

“Ask your dad to tell us when we should come to see you formally.” I said and waved my hand.

As we retraced our steps, I asked Balu, “Thanks for the help. But, who is Bahuleyan?”

Balu replied, “Who knows? The name sounded peculiar when those two people were talking while we made our way to the office. I don’t know him at all.”

Well, that is the end of the article. We got married on 10^th May, 1968 in a simple way at the temple-town of Palani in Tamil Nadu. We are happy even today. Our three children are well settled and I have discharged all my commitments in this world.

We celebrated our 52^nd wedding anniversary on May 10, 2020.