The outcasts

The hilly road just diverged into the midst of concerte compound walls. It is quite amazing to believe that more than 60 elderly people are housed behind this wall in the so called old age home at Thavannur near Kuttippuram, Kerala. It has been their home ever since they set their foot on this soil. And of course they love it here, they say. After all they had to undergo what felt like hell in their life and for them now it is heaven on earth. And they look forward to spending their rest of the days here.

Unfortunately most of the people we met were either driven away from their own homes or left their home on their own account because they never felt it to be a ‘home’ anymore . When asked about their journey to the old age home, they have tales to tell. Their struggle in reaching here was the most difficult part and definitely it seems to be so rewarding now. In here most of them are happy to be alive and to be in a place to call it as their own. They say now we have a roof over head ,meals four times of a day, a cot to sleep on, and weekly health check ups and definitely it is free of charge. And if at all they need something else, they were provided with it at the earliest. But whatever the people who take care of them do, I bet they are so damn under strain and sorrowful because they are in some strange land away from the places they had spent a major part of their life.

‘Everyone will have to pass through this age, whether they like it or not. An elderly man who could barely walk with a stick said this. But he is healthier when compared to some others around him. There were people who have lost their rights over their legs and struggles to move from one room to another. And they have to depend on either a stand or stick to support their weight.

When one of us asked whether their children used to come for visiting them, they say ‘Yes, they do come. But they don’t come here for us. All they want is my hard earned money and my pension. That is why they come here. It seems that her children were so brutal that they used to torture her so much to the extent that now she has some trouble with her backbone and cannot walk properly. What is even more amazing is that this place has got people who have raised 5-7 children but none of them show the slightest concern for their parent who is abandoned somewhere in some land in someone else’s care. Do these people have any idea how their children will treat them when their time has come? what makes them so confident that their children wouldn’t treat them the way they are treating their own parents now?

When they speak about their children it reminds me of a story someone told me long before. It is about an old man and his son, when both of them were sitting in their porch, the old man asked what was that noise they were hearing so closely. The son replied it was the sparrows, and after sometime the old man asked again and again, and the third time the son lost his patience and shouted at his father. Hearing this the old man went inside and came back carrying an old diary and gave it to the son. The son opened it to find out that about 30 years ago when he was 3 years of old, sitting in the same porch he had asked them the same question about 23 times and each time the father replied patiently it was the sparrows. Such is the story of an old dad and his son.

But they say they feel happy when visited by children or strangers… be it a passer-by who stops on his way when seeing the ‘old age home’ sign hung up near the gate or students who come for study purposes or curriculum based projects…they are just happier when they know some one out there want to visit them and they are especially happier when they see programmes are conducted for them in their vicinity by children from neighbouring schools. But whatever they do, their heart will never be filled to the brim of happiness…after all they are torn away from their real world and real life, and their real identity is no longer an issue because they just make one among the many old people around there, and they are left with no choice to make on how to end the last days of their long life journey , so weak and so miserable that they just have to live by crossing the dates on the calendar…

By the niece

Soochimukhi

One feels relieved when he returns to his village after being away for quite some time especially if he is arriving from a desert dominated country where flora and fauna  are  very rare. My village lies 'far away from the madding crowd' in a remote corner of this world where one wakes  before dawn listeniong to  the song of cuckoos followed by the call of crows that herald the birth of a new day. The fishes in the pond in front of our house come to the surface early in the moring as if to salute those who are willing to watch them.Some of my friends  still wonder why  we converted an old pond into  a concrete pool  at a time when others are using every inch of land available to build concrete  structures and benefit from them financially . I tell them it is nothing other than  our humble contribution to protect  one of the  rare gifts of nature.





My youngest son with a catch from our pond

 

This is the flowering season for the mango trees in our courtyard and some of them now bear tender mangos smaller than marbles. At this stage the are bitter in taste, but after some time  they will become green mangoes saur in taste. Green mango pieces are cooked in curry sauce comprised of different spices , chilly, coriander,turmeric powder,onion , garlic etc. Keralites enjoy eaing fish fillets and mango pieces cooked in curry sauce together. Green mangoes have an appetizing smell and add flavour to fish curry. The green mango slices are also salted, dried in the sun and used as an flavour additive f to fish curry. The mango trees in our courtyard are like dwarfs compared to the large mango trees with branches grown sideways that stood in our courtyard years ago. In those days children like me used to play under their branches which served as a shade to protect us from the heat of the sun. We used to run and compete to pick them and eat the ripe mangos falling from the trees. Once I climbed a mango tree to pluck a ripe mango spotted at a height.I fell down when the branch  I stepped on  broke and was unable to stand or walk since my left hip was dislocated and had to be carried by others to my  house. I was not taken to the hospital but was treated by a renowned  local massagist. Within two weeks I was fine and was able to walk to school.

There is a number of mongooses wandering in our courtyard in broad daylight in search of food. The other day one of them stopped to stare at me.  It was aware that we had been away for the last one year and the coop in which we used to rear chicken was empty. It might be wondering if we had imported some fresh chicken  from Doha to prey on them and thus have a sumptous meal  it is badly need these days since the villagers now know how to protect their poultry from mongooses and foxes. It seems that these animals will have to satisfy themselves with some insects or degrade themselves into the level of pure vegetarians now a days.They have a bloody track record since their predecessors had killed and  consumed a number of chickens reared by the villagers in the past. But the most henious crime they had committed was in the case of some newly hatched chicken I had purchased from the market when they some how stormed into the coop, massacered them and sucked their blood.I still rememeber that the morning when I went to feed the chicks  and saw all of them lying on the ground like orange slices thrown away by children after sucking their juice. You can imagine the anguish a boy feels on such occasions.



The Jack fruit inour coutyard



A tall coconut tree in our yard 



The tamarind tree in our backyard



The yellow bamboo



I don't know how old is the tamarind tree that stands adjacent to our kitchen as I have been seeing it since my childhood. It is an evergreen tree in the sense it produces tamarind throughout the year whereas other trees growing in our area produce tamarind only in a particular season.When we constructed our house there was a suggestion to log it since it stands so close to our house. But we could implement the plan in such a way wthout harming the tree. The jackfruit(tree) in our courtyard in too old to give us fruits these days. Still it is trying its best. Its fruits when ripe are so soft, slimy and sweet smelling that one will find it hard to resist the temptation to eat them. Its seeds cooked in curry sauce are very  deliciuos.

We have a very rare variety of bamboo plant, its stem yellow in colour with green stripes and is used for decorative purpose rather than making baskets. The stem of other bamboo plants seen in our area are green in colour, thorny and are still used for fencing in lieu of boundary walls. People still  identify our house as a yellow bamboo home.Some of the coconut trees in our courtyard are vey tall. The workers still have to cllimb on the top of these tree to pluck the coconut from such trees. To do so the  have to climb a distance of not less than 20 meters. Technological development is yet to assisst these hapless workers.

I found the nest of a long Billed sun bird known in Kerala as Soochimukhi hanging on the telephone wire running through  the verandha of my neighbour. They told me that it took four days for the bird to build its nest. It was very interesting to watch the bird feeding its chicks unafraid of the people sitting close to the nest. They told me that they had seen the mother teaching the chicks how to fly and  that the chicks  would be able to fly away within two weeks after which the bird would destroy its nest . I saw the skeleton of a nest abaonded by another sun bird still hanging on the wire  Since these birds feed on nectar their mother will have to work hard to feed its young ones. Through their instincts they  know where they are safe or else it would not have build its nest at the reach of children.

The Soochimukhi feeding its chicks

By the father

NOSTALGIA (TIME FLIES , MEMORIES DONOT)

Gone from me are my fleeting days

Dreams depart with flying time

In the startled jerk of my heart

I espy how long and endless my life has been

Shock sharpened my senses

And the sunken years surged with their faces

It evoked in me the dead old memories

That lay buried in the abyss of my heart

Time arrived in its winged chariot

Kissing my tears as they trickle down

It rubbed salt into my wounds

Which I thought time could heal

I cherish a time when my heart flew from me

To feel the rainbow that arched the heaven above

And a time when my heart dived deep

To hear the music on still waters

A time when the cool blew on me

Dispelling the sorrows that surfeited my mind

And in its train it brought for me

Mirth, merriment, music and melody

The moon arrived with its treasure of silver

Embracing me with its blanket of stars

The sun shed its richer gold

Showing me the beauty that lay deep in its core

Shimmer , glimmer and swimming light

The dawn loomed with its treasure so bright

Smiling flowers , chirping sparrows

Gurgling streams , grazing gazelles

My heart flew into the blue so broad

To see the stars that enamel the skies

It dived into the darkness of ocean

To count the pearls that lay deep down

Life was bizarre and baffling

Time was taunting and teasing

Somewhere in the game of chasing dreams

And got tangled in the cobweb of time

Oh, God! It is in you that I see

Tranquility wedded to intimate sweetness

Keep me sound and safe in your palm

And rock me into a deep and dreamless trance.

By the daughter



An empty road

“A ship is always safe at the shore, but it is not meant for that”,  Albert Einstein

After all, what is there in an old and abandoned car?, some one may ask . But, believe me, I am not  exaggerating or fabricating  when I say that I  cannot forget the 1980 model Honda Prelude car I had used from 1989 to 2003 . I  am not supposed to disregard it as a negligible and rusted equipment since I had learnt several lessons from it. Once I asked an auto mechanic why one is upset when his or her car has some problems . “ A car, though it is an equipment, is like your family member”, he replied .My eldest son while he was schooling used to conceal and cover up the age of this car, let alone the discomfort of getting into it, by projecting and pinpointing its single door specification as a unique and rare feature and claiming that it was found only  in a few cars . My wife still relish in narrating the story of my adventure with the car a few months after obtaining my driving License when I tried to drive to the 4th floor of the Q-post building in Doha describing how I failed in it , how another driver came to my recue when he took over the steering from me, drove my car and thereby averted an unpleasant situation as there was a number of cars waiting in a row behind me.

When I see people struggling to start their cars in the mornings of winter season in Doha, I pause for a while and start sharing their difficulties. The broken down cars lying on the road side create a feeling of discomfort in me and I begin to feel the dilemma their drivers might have experienced.Despite its poor technical condition, my car had stopped only once on the road during the period of 13 years it had served me incessantly. That too when I began to visualize and worry about a situation in which my car broke down in the middle of the road and started speculating the ensuing embarrassment it might create for a person like me. One evening the car did stop at the beginning of the Mannai roundabout in Doha as if it was conducting a test to teach me how to deal with such situations. My face did not turn pale as it used to be on similar occasions and I did not panic nor did my pulse rate increase. I went out of the car and pushed it a little bit towards the road side, returned to my seat and turned the key once or twice. The car consented and I drove off to my destination. It was a matter of a few minutes , neither did the incident disrupt the traffic nor did it let the other drivers celebrate the occasion by blowing their horns. Thus I learned that for every problem God has prescribed remedies and that I was not to wreck my brain brooding over such matters. Once a reader in Doha wrote to the editor of an Arab daily reminding the people that when some one’s car broke down on the road, the other drivers should assist him rather than multiplying his grievances by sounding their horns and shouting at him.

Every one knows that I am a very slow driver. However when I see a car moving slowly in front of me, I begin to loose patience and try to overtake it though I know that the other driver may be faster than me. My car then told  me to conduct  a self –examination before trying to be impatient about others’ behavior and then I realized that there were many such contradictions in my life which could be eliminated easily if I was serious about analyzing them.

I am very poor in driving skills and I am always happy when I see less cars on the road. I even dream of a day when the road will be empty so that I will be in a position to drive my car fearlessly. My car had reminded me that when I nursed such an idea in my mind, I was in fact expecting in vain a life without any problems and that just as there were vehicles on the road which I considered as hurdles there would be problems in one’s life. Man has to confront and overcome such difficulties and not flee from them like a coward. “A ship is always safe at the shore, but it is not meant for that”, said Albert Einstein

When I go to the petrol station to fill my car with petrol and watch the petrol level indicator moving and reaching the letter F, I feel that my belly is full. The same was my feeling when I used to graze the goats and watch the ducks reared at home when I was a young boy. I used to watch the goats eating grass and the ducks swallowing fish and share their feeling of satiation and satisfaction. Those were the days when the children were endowed with a “serene and blessed mood” that empowered them to derive ineffable pleasures form the nature: from the sprouting seeds, singing birds, the blooming buds, the hatching eggs and from the calves and lambs when they run and play. Those days of simplicities and innocence seems to be dead and gone.

In Gods own country, Kerala, the car has begun to symbolize its owner’s social status and has unfortunately intruded into the marriage market as a pre-requisite even for the middle class parents to market their daughters at the “best price”. Even if the dowry includes lakhs of rupees and ornaments weighing one or two kilograms of gold , the demands of bridegrooms do not end there but extends to a new model car. Those who can afford to meet such demands have no problems but others have to sell their possessions or borrow money from local financiers known Kerala as “blade companies” due to the very high interest they charge and the throat cutting  attitude they adopt towards those unable to repay the loan in time.

People are crazy about the worldly pleasures and they chase them at any cost. A famous Sufi scholar said” the worldly pleasures are like a carcass and those who seek them are dogs”. He meant those who chase and compete for these pleasures. One fails to understand how a man can amass wealth by hook or crook, be arrogant based on it and view those unfortunate people around him as inferiors, when he knows that he may fall dead any moment like a ripe jack fruit falling from the tree and if it is not removed or consumed by others it will be rotten. Just as we wait for jackfruits to ripen so that we can eat them, there are worms waiting for our dead bodies in our graves.

                                                                                  By the father

Bon voyage

I love travelling, reading travel literature and watching travelogues. One of the matters I asked my better half prior to my marriage was, whether she liked travelling. But this time it is different. I was on my way to join my expecting beloved back home. I was having my morning bath when I received my mom’s call from home. Seeing my father’s mobile number on the caller ID early morning, I could guess that my wife was having pains of good news. Nothing good in life comes without pain. When we are born ,we cry and make our moms cry, we grow up by falling and getting up, the bruises of stones and scratches of thorns we cherish, our wisdom teeth erupts with pain and we toil and sweat to have a descent life. My mother told me that my wife was having pain, not sure whether it was a true labour pain, but they were going to take her for a checkup. That was the first time I realized what I was doing there. My wife was miles away bearing alone entire anxieties of birth giving and where is her partner who is supposed to support her on such occasions. I have been cramped in my working place frustrated, unable to think or act properly as my mind was far away at home. I had booked my ticket to travel two days later. I prayed for the best and left my room for the operation theatre where I had duty. I called my father and asked him to inform me immediately if the attending doctor said anything positive as there was a flight within three hours.

I avoided assisting any cases pose so that I could attend any call from home. After about two hours my father called to tell me it was false pains, however they advised to get admitted since the expected date of delivery was imminent. He reminded me not to get stressed as this was just a routine admission. I started thinking about my wife and her situation. Then I realized that it was a part of her agony that was distracting me from all my works for the last 2 weeks. I called my wife and told her that I was starting that night would join her the next day. The moment I made that decision the turbulent wind which disturbed my mind settled. Neither had I applied for leave, nor had I booked the bus or air ticket. But something inside was telling me that this was the right decision. My first reflex was to ask my junior to call his brother who was running a travel agency to check for flights to kerala from Delhi. Then I wrote my leave application and approached my head of department. He right away obliged and gave me permission to leave the operation theatre then and there. I told him that I was leaving only in the night, so it was alright for me to work today. I contacted a medical representative to arrange for a bus ticket from Chandigarh to Delhi as it was already for too late. By that time, my junior told me that there was direct flight to Cochin but it was too costly. There was another flight to Coimbatore which was much less and reached at the same time. After arriving at Coimbatore,I will have to travel by bus for about five hours to reach my destination. But I didn’t want to wait and risk my journey, so I told him to book the ticket right away. Meanwhile the medical representative called me and said that all the bus tickets to Delhi airport were booked. I told him to look for private buses, even though that meant that I would have to change bus from Delhi bus stand to airport. I had to meet my thesis guide as my thesis submission date was due after 5 days. I had already applied for an extension of 15 days. I left the operation theatre at 3 pm and went to meet her at the outpatient department. I was free by 4 pm and decided to do some shopping. I went to sector 15 to buy some sweets. I called my friend to confirm that he didn’t have any duty that night so that he could drop me at the bus station.

Fortunately, I had done much of my shopping, so I had just to pack my bags. Being the son of an NRI, packing was not a problem. I had watched how my uncle used to pack my father’s luggage. As a child, it was fascinating to see him working on the luggage, rolling them over the sturdy ropes. There was a particular method of tying ropes over bags. Each knot was connected to the other in such a way that when one loosens, the other tightens it. Or else, the tying was improper and may loosen any time. Each knot would be symmetrically aligned. In the end it was like the slogan of malabar gold, beauty meets quality. I packed the cardboard box, strapped them with tape and then with rope. By that time, the medical representative whom I had entrusted to buy my bus ticket called me saying that he had procured the bus ticket to the airport itself, but in black. Black is when buy something in an illegal way by giving more money. Fair enough in times of urgency, I didn’t mind.

It was already 7 pm and I was almost ready. Then I remembered that my wife had asked me to trim my beard before coming. It is wonderful to see how relationships could change people. I used to grow my beard so long as my hair, keep my wallet empty because of the laziness to go to the ATM, many times did the petrol tank of my scooter dry up and I had to leave my scooter road side and walk to the petrol station with a can to refill. I was careless and clumsy as a rabbit. But with my wife around I am extra careful, my wallet is always full and so is my petrol tank. Meanwhile I cancelled the ticket I had booked for 30th. I had some matters to settle before I leave, so I called some of my friends and seniors and informed them I was leaving. At around 10 pm I called my friend to pick me up for dinner. We had planned to go a hotel near the bus station so that It would be easy for me to board the bus. Another friend of mine also joined us to see me off. We went to hotel Jullundur, our usual meeting place where my friends booze and I have my usual mutton biriyani. We talked about many things from domestic to international issues. Both of them were of the notion that I would have a son for no specific reason. In fact, I too had a similar intuition.( My wife has not delivered when I write this ). I had developed the habit of predicting the sex of the child by looking at the appearance and behavior of the mother from my MBBS years. It was just like a hobby and I should say I have a 100% record so far. Please don’t torture the newcomer with your strictness, was my friend’s advice to me. They used to call me BSP, boring, strict and predictable. I was boring in the sense that I don’t get mixed with others so easily, I don’t entertain their booze and night parties and as they had personally admitted, they felt guilty while smoking or drinking in front of me. I was indeed strict in the sense that I never like to mix business with pleasure. I always reached on time for duties and expected others to do the same. I was sure very predictable. If my junior comes late for they were sure to answer to me. They could predict that with full confidence and be prepared to receive the torment. But I liked the way I am and they too acknowledged me. My friends were joking that I would refuse the child to be delivered earlier as the expected date was a week later. I finished my meals and as usual reminded them to complete their meals fast even though there was about half an hour for the bus and the bus stand was only 2 minutes walk from the hotel. They asked me to shut up and enjoy the meal even though they knew that I would remind them every 5 minutes.

I boarded the bus on time. They accompanied me to help with my luggage. They had even brought gifts for my child. That was something unexpected. I mocked at them asking since when were they so emotional and touchy. But they were like that. Even though they often reminded me of my dark side, they were there when I needed them. A friend in need is a friend indeed. As I was late in booking the tickets I got a back seat, but I didn’t mind as the road was good and it would require an earth quake to wake me up when I get into the sleep mode.

I had forgotten to keep the alarm, but my biological clock woke me up precisely .I entered the airport terminal. I hope all of you must have experienced this extra ordinary phenomenon of getting struck in the right moment. Well, I have experienced this several times as I am careless and my body has developed this defense mechanism. I had reached Delhi airport one hour earlier on purpose because in winter the fog was supposed to delay the traffic. But I had no problems this time. I sat there and waited among the anxious passengers. The lady at the boarding pass counter asked me which seat I preferred. I thought of it for a while as the last time I travelled with my wife, she wanted a window seat, but we didn’t get it. Now I am offered the pleasure of choosing one when I don’t need them. Well, this is life. Nevertheless I told her the window seat, even though it made no difference as I was sure to doze off the moment the flight took off. I had one more hour before I could board the plane. I had my breakfast at the “Vaango” restaurant. The name had always fascinated me. It means ‘Come’ in Tamil and was the perfect word to invite people to a place where they served Idli and dosa. A man was arguing with the cashier, why he was given only idli, when he had ordered idli and dosa. I sometimes felt that people need to ask the question “Now what “rather than persisting on “why”, which would avoid a lot of tension. He could have ordered another plate of dosa instead of getting into an altercation and spoiling the scene. After having the breakfast, I roamed around the waiting lobby, window shopping in the costly electronic and perfume shops, musing the aquarium fish. Last time, they had the clown fish, which is the prettiest fish I have ever seen. This time they have only parrot fishes and gouramies. As it was time for my morning prayer, I went to the prayer room. A middle aged man was already into his prayers, so I joined him. By the time I finished my prayers, the 16 No gate was open for the Indigo Flight to Coimbatore via Chennai.

I reached Coimbatore airport at 11 am. I went to the auto rickshaw stand to go to the bus stand. I vainly had a short bargain with the driver in my broken Tamil for charging me Rs 150. Neither did I impress upon him as a native, nor did he reduce the charge. I didn’t want to irritate him either as the Tamilians were already angry with us for the Mullaperiyar Dam issue. When I reached the bus depot I was happy to see three buses to my place. But my momentary elation vanished when I came to know that due to the attacks of Kerala State Bus Transport Buses by some of the natives, they have decided that all the buses would leave together with police escort only after 2 hours. When I used to see the news about the ageing Dam issue I never thought that I would be a part of its ill effects. I didn’t sleep during my bus journey, partly because I was afraid of any attacks from the natives and partly because my neighbor was interested in chit chatting. One thing about people is that when they come to know that you are a doctor, they ask about the illnesses that occurred to them during in their entire life. This person had questions regarding his jaundice which was cured 3 years back, the dandruff he had last year, his mother who died of uterine cancer 6 years back, his friend who died of leukemia 3 years ago ,his occasional weakness so on and so forth.

I reached Thrissur bus stand at about 4. 30 pm and took an auto rickshaw to the hospital where my wife was admitted. The driver started asking my whereabouts while taking me to my destination. I purposely avoided telling him my profession, but he skillfully took it out of my mouth. Then the predicted question comes, I have been having a pain in my left hand occasionally, I have been taking ayurvedic medicines without relief, could it be due to rheumatism? My first impulse was to tell him, you give me a free ride and I shall give you free advice, but I told him, “Sorry, I am an ENT specialist, wouldn’t know much about bones”. He looked at me surprised or dissatisfied as I was counting down the time left for me to join my beloved.

by the eldest son