Do you know her???

The four years of graduation was a period of great enjoyment for me. Being at Government College of Engineering we studied only for exams except for few exceptional classes which we liked or for which the Profs and Lectures were extremely good at. During those days we went home almost all weekends. Though it took only one and half hrs to reach home I enjoyed those Friday trips .It was during one such journey that I met an old lady from Palaghat. That Friday we didn’t have the last two hours so I started my journey home quite early by about 3.00pm. It has been three years since but her words remain afresh in my mind.
She came rushing towards the running bus, the driver stopped the bus, and the conductor pulled her up the footboard. I heard him saying “Manushane menakeduthan oronu vanum kayarum!!” he was cursing her for the trouble old people create while catching the bus. Finally she settled next to me; greeting me with a sweet smile. She would have been above fifty but looked younger to her age. Her Cheeks were shining in the mid-hot sun and her eyes had the color of the stones on her traditional ear rings. Her fair skin was almost the color of the kerala sari that she wore. Truly a lady of high birth most probably a Brahmin I thought. She took ticket to “Muriyanthode”. I knew the place very well; it was 2kms from my place but in villages you will know people even 10kms away. It was a Muslim predominant area with little Hindu’s and absolutely no Brahmin’s I have heard off. I wondered what she would be doing there. May be some newly settled people.
I was in my world of thoughts that she started talking to me. She was extremely happy to learn that I would be with her almost the entire journey. Then she started her story. She was a Brahmin lady (My guess was right) from a famous illam in Ottapalam. She never set foot outside her house without somebody accompanying her. She had three sons (number not sure) and a daughter. Her husband died long back and she was on her way to Guruvayur. I was quite surprised. If we consider alphabet ‘Y’ and start from lower end; the way to Guruvayur was on the right branch and our route on the left. Did she get in to the bus by mistake? If then why did she take ticket to “Muriyanthode”? Seeing me confused she began to clarify. On first of every month (based on Malayalam calendar) she goes to Guruvayur (all alone) and stays there for three days. It started long back when her husband was alive and even now she continues to do that. Probably it was the only freedom her wedlock allowed her. Her daughter had eloped with a guy who was at their house for some painting work (or some carpentry –not sure of that).They stayed at “Muriyanthode. She said her son-in-law was not worth; of low birth, low education and low esteem; “but what to do?” I could see the desperate mother in her. Her sons had turned away their face from their dear little sister. They performed the ceremony “Padi adachu Pindamvekyal” (That means after that ceremony you won’t consider that particular person to be a member of your family and you will not have any association with him/her in future). Her daughter was her youngest and she loved her dearly. She traveled all the way from Palghat to an unknown place (about three and half hours) to see her daughter. At least Guruvayurappan has blessed her that. This was her second trip. The bus had been halted at some stop for quite a long time. By this time we completed half of the journey and I had all the characters of the play in my mind.
As the bus began to move she began to narrate about her first journey. She said she reached Thrissur by 5.00pm. That means it was some 6.15/6.30 when the bus halted at Thriprayar. She knew “Muriyanthode” was some where near that place. As she was enquiring about “Muriyanthode” and about her son-in-law a man came up and told that he knows her son-in-law and as it was dark he will take her to their home. He was very friendly aged about thirty-thirty-five. He said the place was very near (“Muriyanthode” is about 5kms from Thriprayar) and it would be ideal to take an auto. As the auto turned to the pocket roads his mannerisms changed. He began to move his hands towards her body. She shouted at the top of her voice. The auto stopped. The driver asked them what was going on. He said the lady was mad and some rubbish. She tried to speak to driver but the man’s hands sealed her mouth. Looking to her eyes something inside the driver told him that the lady had nothing to do with this man. He was strong enough to pull the man out of the auto and took the lady safely to her home. She didn’t tell anything about this to her daughter nor to her son-in-law and of course not to her sons and relatives. I was the privileged or the unprivileged to learn it. That’s why she started her journey early today. She had to say thousand lies to convince her son’s why she had to leave early that day; more over she had to get a direct bus so that she needn’t get down at Triprayar. Now I know why she was happy when I told her where I would get down. This time she knew she won’t lose her way.
As I picked up my bags she bid me good bye and said she would pray for me. I smiled back wondering if I would ever pray for her. As I got down I told the Conductor to help her get down at “Muriyanthode”. He nodded his head; I could see him mocking at me behind his yellow teeth.
Walking home my head was full of questions. I was wondering about “MY LADY’S” sons and daughter. Have they ever thought about her? Will her son’s ever know that their mother was dying to meet her daughter? Will they ever know that their mother ate and slept in their brother-in-laws poor house? Will her children ever know that she was harassed? Is “MY LADY” the only women who suffer all these? No, there will be hundreds of “MY Lady’s”. I don’t say that love is a crime or you should not have your esteem. But do take time to think of a womb which caressed you nine months, the dark sleepy eyes which spent sleepless nights so that you could have sound sleep. Do take time for her. Love her for she loved you selflessly.
By the time I reached home my head was saturated. I saw my brother running towards me took my bag and went to house. He was asking something, I didn’t hear. I was thinking of “MY Lady”. Hopefully she would have reached home, to all the goodness left in me I prayed to lord for “MY LADY”. I saw my brother standing before me. “You are tired, have this tea”; he gave me the cup and went to play. Someday I would write about this I thought and sipped the hot tea.

Radio

In this era of Computers and Internet it might seem odd to talk about the radio, but I couldn’t resist my self from writing about an old rectangular black box which stood proudly on the wooden stand of our drawing room unaware of it’s age and title “The Endangered Species”. This old little piece was an integral part of my life for over seventeen years.

As far as I remember, I always woke up by the sweet devotional songs or by the dull prabhashnams (devotional speeches) or the boring slokams from the program “Subhashitangal” which the All India Radio Thrissur Station played at six in the morning. At times I really hated those religious Gurus (of all religions – as AIR tried to retain communal harmony) simply because they woke me from my dreams. As I grew up this program did have an influence on me as it helped me understand and respect all religions. I had no options to switch off the radio as our family’s timetable was stuck with it. For instance I would study till I hear “kavyanjali “at seven; it was time for me to take bath. This I loved to drag to seven fifteen as it was my favorite program. Famous and favorite lines of Malayalam poems would be recited by known and unknown Poets. I still cherish the poem which narrates the story of a young shanti who gets scolded by his mother when she sees a long black hair in the naivedyam (Prasad from temple). When the English news starts at eight I know it’s time for my school bus. This way we were all tuned to radio time. The morning course of programs would get over at nine fifteen by that time my mother would be ready to leave for her office (the last one to leave).
This poor old radio not only scheduled my time, but also it helped me with my lessons. When I was in Xth I used to listen to lectures of great teachers on how to prepare for exams, which all portions where important from the exam point of view and stuffs like that. On Sunday noon when Doordharshan showed dragging award films of different languages we would listen to music or Shabdharega.Though this poor radio delivered all these; we never touched it during night as we were busy with TV. With the intervention of cable connection providing hundreds of channel we never bothered to switch on the radio.
When I went to collage I have looked with admiration at the long antenna that every civil engineering batch tried to measure (though none of the batches got the same results); it was the AIR antenna which brought those programs for us. Though I was only yards away from the AIR I would listen to the radio once in a blue moon at some of my friend’s room. That time radio was struggling hard to retain its listeners. New programs like Phone-in programs were being introduced. With more walkman and cable TV at hostel we never bothered about radio. Later when I went to Bangalore for Infy training I was happy to find the FM radio still young and alive in that metro city. We roommates often listened to radio then. Though radio at Bangalore was concentrated on film music it still survived the harsh blows from multimedia.
Back at Trivandrum the radio helped us with its music during the initial stages when we were settling ourselves.
As soon as we bought the TV; the radio was never switch on. As I sat listening to the FM radio in the Techno park express the dusted pocket radio which lay on the parapet of our window came to my mind; I wondered how long I would hear this.

To My Beloved Teacher

This is dedicated to Mrs Baby Sidharthan, my English Teacher who laid the foundation of my education.

 As I look back I see myself as an ordinary school girl who liked nothing other than English and Malayalam (which I can call literature now). I used to score marks just to pass. My parents never bothered about my marks but my father did bother about my grammar both English & Malayalam. I got scolded only when I did badly in these. It never occurred to me that I should become something in life. Then one day when I was in fifth we got a new Social science teacher. She was small with a stern face and big bindhi. Rumors went around that she was too strict, will beat like anything …. If my memory hasn’t failed the first lesson (or this is the first I can think of in the stack of my memory) which she thought us was that of Socrates -the greatest philosopher of all times. There was something in her voice, something which broke the cyst around me. For the first time I wanted to do some thing, something which will make her notice me. The one and only way that my silly mind could think of was to study well. I struggled hard. Though I answered all her questions in the class the maximum I could get was some 16th or 17th in the class (I don’t remember the exact score). To my utter surprise the next year she was my class teacher. I was overjoyed. That was a golden year in my history, a year of transformation, a year of accomplishments. Though my teacher sometimes took only one Para per period, it was worth remembering for life time. I still cherish those stories and poems- the heart felt story of mother Theresa, the top classic David Copperfield, and sad song of unknown Solitary reaper and so on. I participated in story writing competition for the first time in life & I got 2nd price for that. I was among the top 10 in the class and one among the favorites of my teacher. From then on I have strived to keep up the spirits and to be in the top three through out my school days.

 My teacher pulled me up from the pocket road and put me on the main track. The smooth, fast competitive road to start the journey towards destiny. As I started my journey I heard her singing:
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.