A
TYPICAL DAY, THEN AND NOW
The mobile by my bedside
woke me up punctually at 5.30 am. I got up from the 4 inch mattress, switched
off the fan, entered the attached toilet, finished my morning rituals and then
went to the kitchen to drink my two tumblers of warm water. The stove could be
lighted very easily with the lighter. In less than five minutes, I was ready in
my track suit. Mr. Yadav must be waiting down for me. I did not want to disappoint
him as it had become a routine for me to have the morning walk with him in the
park opposite to our Society. The automatic lift brought me down.
But. I did not find Yadav there.
I was about to ask the watchman, when my mobile sounded. It was Yadav. He said,
“Please excuse me, KRK. I got up late today. Please go ahead. I can’t join
you.”
“That’s alright. Hope you are
fine. Will meet tomorrow” I said and switched off my mobile.
I did my morning walk alone. We
used to sit in a bench for 15 minutes after finishing our walk and talk before
leaving the park. Today, I sat in the bench. My mind took on wings and flew to
those good old days about 75 years back, when there were no mobiles and
communication was not easy.
* * *
I was in sound sleep in the
verandah floor on a grass mat when the sounds of splashing of water from the
iron buckets woke me up. The women-folk
of my agraharam woke up early by
instinct. Their first duty was to cleanse the front portion of the houses with
cow-dung mixed water before drawing a beautiful pattern called kolam with rice powder, there.
I rolled up my mat along with
the bed-sheet, crossed the rezhi and thazhvaaram and entered Kootam where I kept the mat
in its assigned place. I saw mother had kept a lamp in front of the framed pictures
of deities. I prayed there briefly and walked towards the “toilet”. It was
about 200 metres away from the main structure, called kollai. The “toilet” was just a square plot enclosed by thorny
bushes, with a narrow deep pit. Two planks across the pit served as foot-rest.
There were no doors. A large vessel, called kindi,
with water, was kept near the entry point to show that it was occupied.
I walked to the mittam a large pit made of granite rock.
All the waste water was discharged here. There was a canal at the bottom, to
take the waste water to the backyard. I picked up some umikkari from the kuruvatti and place it my left palm. Umikkari is the charcoal powder got from
burning the husk of paddy. We added some salt and pepper powder to it. Kuruvatti is a small bamboo basket.
I used my right hand wet
forefinger as the tooth-brush and cleaned my teeth. I had to take enough water
in a brass vessel from a big water-storage vessel. The former is called chombu, and the latter, andaa. We had no knowledge that water
could come through pipes to your hand for washing purpose and a device called
wash-basin helped you to do the teeth-cleaning by standing.
*
* *
“Hello KRK, you are still
here?” I looked up to see Yadav standing in the front. “It is past 6.30 and you
are getting late for your morning coffee, no?”
“Thank you. This is the effect
of your not turning up. See you tomorrow.” I said and rushed home. There was
none to welcome me there. My dear wife was an invalid and could not move out of
her bed. The lady nurse appointed to take care of her, got up only at 8. So, I
opened my flat with my keys. I walked to the toilet, refreshed myself and
entered the kitchen. I opened the fridge, took out the milk sache, boiled the
milk and prepared my coffee using the instant coffee powder.
I carried the mug of coffee to
the hall, sat of the sofa. The instant coffee took me back to those days when
my mother served me the filter coffee.
* * *
After finishing the cleaning of
face and teeth, I entered the kitchen. Mother was mixing the decoction with hot
milk. The milk was brought by a young girl, who was living nearby. The milk was
freshly collected from their cow. Mother prepared added freshly ground coffee
seeds to a hand-operated grinding machine. She added the fresh coffee powder to
a brass filter and pured hot water to it, The water percolated through the
filter to give a thick decoction of coffee. She handed me a brass tumbler full
of coffee with a brass dabara. The
aroma was so pleasant.
* * *
It was time for my bath now. I
collected my towel and entered the attached toilet in my room. Yes, I changed
the board in the door handle to “IN USE” and thus did not lock the door. This
was to enable an outsider (like my son) to enter the bathroom in case I fell
down inside and could not get up.
The geyser supplied me hot
water. I could have a hot shower bath. I did not worry about washing my clothes
as there was a washing machine to do the job. You had to only add the detergent
and switch the machine on. I need not know how it washed the clothes, but in 45
minutes, all the clothes got washed free of water.
I came out of the bathroom and turned
the board to “VACANT”. I changed to new robes, and performed my morning sandhyavandanam. Afterwards, I was just
waiting for my breakfast, giving me time to continue my reverie.
* * *
Yes, it was time for my bath in
the river. I collected previous day’s dress (half-pant and shirt), a towel, a
metal box containing a piece of Lifebuoy soap (for the body) and a piece of 501
bar soap (for the clothes) and a paper wrap of vibhuti (holy ash). I ran out to join my friends, Ganga, Aruna and
Seetha. You are wondering how I had so many girls as friends for bathing in the
river! It is not because of my name (which had “Krishna” as a part), but
because they were really boys: their full names being Gagadharan, Arunachalam
and Seetharaman. Thank God, they called me “Moorthy”, not “Krishna”. Some south
Indian girls had the name “Krishna”.
At the river, we had our
designated spots to take bath and wash our clothes. We washed our dresses by
rubbing them with soap and water, beating them on the rock, rinsing them well
in the flowing water and squeezing them well. We had to take turns to immerse
our body in the flowing water as the water was only knee-deep. We had to remove some sand from the bottom to
make a small temporary pit. Then we took turns to immerse our bodies, prostrating
inside the water.
In winter, the water in the
river would be so cool, that it was not possible to take bath in the river. But,
we had no other go. So, we just splashed the water on one another so that we got
acquainted with the cold waters and then took bath.
After the truly refreshing
bath, which could take half-an-hour, we apply vibhuti on the body and do the morning prayers, sandhyavandanam, standing in the
knee-deep water. On the way back, we visited two temples to pray, collected the
tulsi leaves and sandal paste.
At home, I put my dresses on
the clothesline in the backyard, dressed myself in new shorts and set for my
next duty: filling the various vessels, big and small, with fresh water drawn
from the well. We did not use the previous day’s left over water but used it for
the plants which were plenty in our backyard. Since mother would not have taken
bath, which was mandatory to draw fresh water, it was my duty to do this job. I
tied the neck of the kudam (a copper
vessel with a narrow neck) with the loop of the rope and dipped that vessel
into the water in the well by maneuvering the rope which passed through a
pulley. Then I dragged it up to get one full kudam of water. Like this, I had to collect six to seven kudams to fill all the vessels needed
for cooking, washing the vessels and cleaning the floors.
Then I took out the vessel
containing the curd from the uri, for
churning. I kept the churner partially dipping in the curd, passed the two
loops around the churner and tied a rope on the churner and started churning. I
asked mother, “Amma, How long should I churn?
Mother said, “Chant Vishnusahasranama while churning. When
it gets over, call me. I will see if you have to chant Lakshmi-ashtotharam
also.”
When it was over, mother sat
down and rolled up the butter and floated it in the buttermilk. She said, “See
Moorthy, when the butter sinks in the buttermilk, we know it is the end of
Kaliyuga.”
Suddenly, she said: “Appumama
has left for office. It must be 8.30 now. Hurry with your school work and come
for eating.”
Yes, we had no clock of any
kind to know the time. When Appumama left home, it was 8.30, when the
post-office peon (anjal sepoy) was seen running towards the post office with
a sack of letters. It was 10 O’Clock. When the shadow of the opposite house
crossed the middle of the road, it must be past 12 O’Clock. When the postal
peon runs back with his parcel of letters, it was 4 O’Clock. Then mother would
come to thinnai to receive her
children returning from school.
* * *
Yes, it was time for breakfast.
I finished my sandhyavandanam in my
room and walked to the dining table. My daughter-in-law, Sarada, had kept all
the things ready on the table. There were large bowls, containing idli, sambhar, chatni, etc. A plate was
kept at every chair. A basket contained plantain and seasonal fruits. Each
member of the family arrived at the table at their own convenience. There was
no need of calling them to have the breakfast. Each one had a mobile and
ear-phine. I sat on my reserved chair. I used the tongs to pick up the idlis and transfer them to my plate. I
took the sambhar and chatni also from the bowls. Although a spoon was
available, I preferred my own fingers to eat the idlis.
Sarada brought me the tea in a
mug, which I consumed hot. But, I saw the others waiting for the tea to cool
down to room temperature.
* * *
After breakfast, I went back to
my room and continued to live my past life.
I collected my two text books
(English and Malayalam), two or three notebooks, a pencil (sharpened with a shaving blade), a
‘steel-pen’, which was just a nib fitted to a long wooden holder, an ink-bottle
and a piece of blotting paper.
Mother was calling. I ran to
the kitchen, sat on the floor at a porcelain plate in which mother had kept
some previous day’s left-over rice. It was known as pazhaya chadam in Tamil and vella-choru in Malayalam. Mother added a bit of curd and a
pinch of salt in that. I mixed them with my fingers. Mother gave me some mango
pickles (which she had made to last a few months). This was our breakfast.
After this, I wore my half-pants and a shirt (no banian) which had been washed
and dried the previous day. It was not ironed. Mother gave me a small brass container
of the same food. This vessel had a handle to hold. Then, I was ready to join
the same friends to walk to the school, 2.5 km away on bare-foot.
Mother accompanied me to the
front of the house. She asked me to wait till she permitted me to leave. She
was waiting for a good omen, sakunam,
to appear. She expected a girl, a married lady, a pair of Brahmins, a cow or a
person with milk in hand as the good omens. A widow, a single Brahmin or a cat crossing
the path were bad omens. I could step out of the house only against a good
omen.
Once, it so happened that for
quite some time no good omen appeared. I was getting late. My friends, Seetha
and Ganga were gesturing me to join them. Mother saw this, She was tense.
Suddenly, she saw the girl in the opposite house peep out of the house. Mother
called her and said, “Alamu, come here. I have something to give you.”
Alamu started from her house.
Immediately, mother turned towards me and said, “Moorthy, you have the good sakunam. Leave before Alamu reaches
here.”
Similar events happened on many
days, enabling me to reach my school in time. On our way to school, we joked,
criticized some teachers, reviewed a movie, talked about events that happened
at home etc. They were our golden days.
* * *
Today, after breakfast, I had
nothing to do. I walked to the ‘hall’, sat on the well-cushioned sofa and
switched on the TV. Channel by channel I scanned, but I could not find one to
my interest. My favourite programmes of News and debates in English did not
come at that time. Disappointed, I walked to my room.
* * *
I started thinking what I did
in the classroom. The same teacher taught us all the subjects till about 6th
standard. He/she was called our class-teacher. Later, the teacher who taught us
in the first period became our class teacher. We started using the “steel-pen”
in class 6. We had to keep the open ink-bottle in the slot on the desk. Dip the
nib in the ink and write in the note-book. We could hardly write two words when
the nib got dry. We dipped the nib again in the ink and resumed writing. We had
to blot the extra ink with the blotter in between.
I saw my own photo when I was
about to enter college. For the first time, I wore full pants and a bush-shirt.
It was the very first photo of mine, taken by an amateur, in his box-camera. In
those times, we could buy films which could take only 12 photos per reel. Often,
the photos were blurred. There was one photo of mine earlier to that. It was a
group photo of mine with my classmates, Headmaster and other teachers of my
High School, taken at the end of my school career.
Later, I got my own
colour-photo camera, which took 36 coloured shots per reel. The album had some
of those photos too. But, unfortunately, it had no photos of my father or
mother. Father could be identified in a group photo taken when one of his superiors
retired and there was a farewell function. Father was wearing his uniform of a
Health Inspector, standing in attention in the third row. Mother was never
photographed till she became a grandmother at the age of around 60 years.
* * *
It was a wonder how mother
managed the household! Father’s salary was not adequate to run a household
consisting of parents with 6 children. Mother did not study beyond third
standard, but her mother had equipped her with the skills to manage the kitchen
and, in general, the house, after her marriage. ..I am afraid, I am moving away
from the topic.
On school working days we had
our meals, prepared that day, only at night, because we had to depend on firewood
to do the cooking and gadgets like mixie and pressure cooker were not known.
The grinding and mixing had to be done in the rudimentary devices called ammi and aattukal, which were slow
and tiring. We did not have a set of burners: we had to cook all our dishes in
a single “furnace”. On working days, we opened our lunch vessels during the
recess, (which began at 1 O’Clock,) in our classroom itself. We used our hands
to take out the rice and the accompanying pickle,
We washed our mouth and the vessels and drank water from the stored clay pots.
The water was neither boiled nor passed through a purifier.
* * *
A call on my mobile brought me
back to the present. Sarada was calling me to collect the vegetable set for our
lunch. I and my invalid wife, Madhuram, with her care-taker, were staying in a
flat in the 5th floor, while my son, Anand and family were in 2nd
floor, due to space constraint. The automatic lift helped me in collecting the
dishes from Sarada. It consisted of sambhar and a side dish.
Today, we had kuruma as side
dish for the chappathis which our maid-cum-nurse had made. Thanks to Sarada, I
have so far tasted many North Indian dishes, going by the names Chhole, raitha,
kofta, Manchurian, etc. Mumbai life had introduced me to dishes like noodles,
pizza, sandwiches, paav-bhaji etc. which are not known in places like my
home-town. Of course, Sarada prepared our conventional dishes on other days,
but on holidays we enjoyed these North Indian dishes. We however chose dishes
rich in vegetables. I took some chappathis
with kuruma, followed by curd bath.
My meal was not complete without a curd or buttermilk mixed rice. We had
readymade pickles bought from the market.
I turned towards my laptop. I
wrote some articles or went through youtube entries and also about tutorials on
Acrylic painting of landscapes. I have done a few paintings but it could be
improved. Normally, I took a nap for about half or after lunch. I laid myself
in the cot today, but my mind travelled to my past.
* * *
Mother was an expert cook. She
prepared dishes named sambhar, pitla, mulakootal,
morkoottan erisseri, aviyal, vattal kuzhambu, menthiyakkuzhambu etc for mixing
with rice. As side dishes, she treated us with olan, poduthuval, kootu, podimaas, pachadi, kichadi, etc. She
prepared a variety of condiments and pickles during their season. Katukumangai and karuvadam are worth mentioning here.
If she thought we were hungry
at about 2 pm on school holidays, she would mix some rice with buttermilk and
keep some kuzhambu ready. Then she
would ask us to sit in a semi-circle in front of her and place one small ball
of the mixed rice in our palms by turn. Then, she would keep some kuzhambu over it and ask us to swallow.
It used to be very tasty. Thus, each would get about 4 to 5 balls of rice. On
those days, there would be no evening snacks.
* * *
My mobile sounded to remind about
my medicines. Yes, I have to take tablets for my BP, Blood sugar and
cholesterol. In my childhood, such names were not known at all. There was no
need to go to a doctor, although we had a family doctor by name Dr. C V
Venkataraman. He did not have much of a ”practice” as the people in the
agraharam did not fall sick that often. Still, he had fixed a placard in his
consulting room, which had the following lines in bold letters:
COME
TO A MAN OF BUSINESS
SOLELY
ON MATTER OF BUSINESS
QUICKLY
TRANSACT YOUR BUSINESS
AND
GO ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS
LEAVING
HIM TO DO HIS BUSINESS
We really enjoyed our meals at
night on school working days. We sat on the floor under a hanging kerosene lamp
(as our house was not electrified then. We had our designated plates having
raised edges. The raised edges prevented the rasam or buttermilk from flowing out of the plate. Mother did not
serve rice in an empty plate as she considered it inauspicious. She served the
side dish first and then the rice. She poured a small amount of ghee over the
rice and then the main curry to mix with the rice. I was just a miracle how she
completed the cooking, using just fire-wood and grinding stone to help her.
There was no LPG, mixie or pressure-cooker then. In between, she had to go to
the river to bathe and to wash the clothes.
* * *
“Uncle, tea” That was our maid,
waking me from my nap. She knew that I left the flat for my evening walk at 5
pm. Yes, it was 4.30 then. I had tea and biscuits. I wore my track suit and
left for my walk. Today, I decided to walk to my “Society” where I have my
flat, now rented out. I met some of my old friends there and I completed my
walk with them.
* * *
In my childhood, after we
returned from our school, we played some out-door games. We used balls made of
waste paper tied tightly in the form of a sphere with jute strings. That was
our badminton ball. We tied a rope to serve as our net and used our palms as
the racquets. We played marble games, in which the loser had to receive the
strikes with the marble, from the winner, in the hind part of his hand, kept at
floor-level. There were other games like Thief-police, seven-stones, kottiyum pullum (a game using two sticks
one long and the other short).
Occasionally, we walked to the reading
room-cum-library 2.5 km away or to the Railway station 3 km away. As the sunset
was nearing, we all assembled in the yellow sands of the Kalpathy river and
talked and talked. As we heard the whistle of the Cochin-Madras Express, we got
up and performed our saayam sandhya vandanam
in the river-water and walked homeward. On our way home, we witnessed the deepaaradhana at one temple.
At home, I and my siblings sat
in front of the deities and chanted a set of slokas together. In the end, we prostrated and applied vibhuti on our foreheads. Till 8 pm, we
all were busy with our homework. At about 8 pm, we had our dinner under a big
hanging lamp. Since there were no distractions like Radio or TV those days, we
were in our ‘beds’ by about 9.30 pm. The front-door, which was kept open from
5.30 a.m. was finally closed at this time. Yes, there were no calling bells. A
visitor just entered up to our kootam
before announcing his/her visit.
* * *
I returned to my flat at 5.30
pm. The maid, taking care of Madhuram, said goodbye and left. The other nurse
was expected by 10 p.m. I lighted the lamp in front of the deity. The Sankara
channel was telecasting Vishnusahasranamam.
I joined chanting along with Madhuram, who was already doing it. At 7.30 sharp,
Sarada came up to give dinner to Madhuram. I too had my food then. Sarada put
Madhuram to bed and left. I resumed watching the TV, this time, Newschannels in
English and Malayalam.
Sharp at 10, the second nurse
reported and disappeared into Madhuram’s room. I did some work on my laptop and
then, by 10.30, went to my room to sleep.
*
* *
