There were rare verities of plants and trees no more seen these days. Mmurukkumaram or Indian coral tree is one among them . They flower at the peak of dry season when they are completely leafless. I still remember such a tree covered by pure red flowers. Just visualize a tree that sheds its leaves and replaces them with red flowers that envelop it as whole. Was it like a red silk carpet , oh no, it was more enchanting and enticing , something that words cannot express, a feast for ones eyes to the extent that now, after forty years, I can still visualize the splendid scene and derive an immense pleasure from it.
My parents used to grow vegetables like vellarikka (white gourd), padavalanga( snake gourd), mathanga (pumpkin), kaippakka ( bitter gourd) etc .close to our house for domestic consumption. For children like me in those days what mattered was watching the plants grow up and bear fruits. The seeds were sown in a specially prepared area in the soil and watered manually every day. Chemical fertilizers were rare in those days and ash or dry cow dung was instead added to the soil . Every morning I used go and check whether the seeds had sprouted. The tiny and tender leaves emerging from the soil afforded me extreme satisfaction tinted with happiness. Our joy and excitement grew hand in hand with the growing vegetable plants. On some occasions I could see crystal like dew drops on the leaves of these plants early in the morning . Though I knew that it was just a water drop, I had several times tried to touch them to experience its soothing effect. When the leaves of these plants fluttered in the breeze, and buds and flowers appeared on the plants , our joy knew no bounds. On such occasions, children like me were like butterflies flying in the air.
When our domestic animals like cows or goats got pregnant it created hopes in the minds of children like me. We were not at all concerned about how far the animals were useful but were eagerly waiting for the safe delivery of these animals. We were aware that when the udder of a cow was reddish and full, the delivery was imminent. We knew that when the cow became restless or made unusual movements, it meant that it was going to give birth. I had held my breath on such occasions . If the calf stood up and started drinking milk soon after its birth I was assured that both the mother and her kid were safe and then I heaved a sigh of relief. In those days I did not know that my parents like many others in the village preferred female calves to male ones and that their attitude was in sharp contrast to their attitude towards babies born to them.
Once in an year the water in these ponds was drawn out manually or using pumps . Different species of fishes in large quantities could be seen struggling in the mud. A part of the harvest was distributed among the neighbors and friends and the rest was salted and dried to be used during rainy season . In those days when there was no fridge or oven, these items were kept in wooden trunks . Still they were preserved well for months. The dried fish was so appetizing and had a delicious flavour.
Today my village has a different story to tell, it is a never ending story of the ruthless exploitation of its land and resources by its dwellers due to their avarice, its struggle with huge concrete structures, the dearth of flora and fauna, and so on so forth.
By the father
