Every place in Keralam is a picnic spot. The place chosen by my father to build a house, after years of wandering from place to place, reveals his love of scenic beauty, or it may just be a combination of circumstances, for which generations of Vasudevan uncles should be grateful.

The plot is on the bend of the river, the bank is quite steep, the view from the top can only be described by a poet. The house is in the foreground, on the right hand side of the river that you see on my blog. Uncle Vasu built a bungalow there, with a terrace roof, a wonderful thing at the time. From the terrace, we used to look at the mountains to the east, the Western Ghats that take on a bluish hue in the rainy season. In summer, we all used to sleep there, looking at the diamonds scattered all over the sky. A nambudiri from Karkoli taught us the names of some of those wondrous stars, the milky way across the starry sands. In the cities, our children are denied the joy that I experienced seventy years ago.

The carpenters who worked there made a small canoe and gave it to my older brother. I am a born friend of the water, perhaps a fish in my last life. Watching the bamboo rafts glide slowly along the crowded river, the workers cooking rice in a corner and fishing, he longed to be one of them, when he grew up. Sometimes it would be a huge wooden boat, equipped with a thatched roof, something like a houseboat. Only in novels have I read about people traveling in boats on the Ganges.

As soon as we moved into our house by the river, my thread ceremony took place. I became a Brahman, Ovinichunni, as they call us. The cover of my book shows the appearance of ovinichunni.

It was also the end of my early childhood. Every day I had to perform various rituals under the strict supervision of my father who, one day, was so angry that he grabbed me by both hands, lifted me up like a bunch of bananas, and beat me until his anger subsided or faded. tired, I don’t know which one, all because I broke the sacred thread while playing in the river water. I didn’t cry But the agony is still fresh on my sensitive mind!

My father commented: you are harder to handle than an elephant.

People from the neighboring houses came to wash and bathe there, because Dad made a bathing ghat in the river, duly paved with granite steps, and we always had the company of the village boys for our water sports. I wasn’t aware of the fact that the thread somehow disappeared. It is excusable in a six year old. We hit children, to vent our feelings. Aren’t children God’s creations? Who authorized us to punish them?

Normally my father is a very peaceful person. He is very slow and it takes a long time to complete his morning rituals. He never uses the bath towel. The water will slowly evaporate. He was completely bald and had no teeth. In his bronze betel chewing case, there was a special grinder to pulverize the mixture of betel leaves, areca nut, lime, tobacco and a bit of erattimadhuram (meaning double sweet root). I don’t know what it is. We used to eat it, erattimadhuram, which is really very sweet.

At bedtime, he would tell us to stomp his feet with all our might. My brother and I handled each leg. It was fun.

He talked about many things with his brother, including poetry at Samskrutam, which I couldn’t follow. My brother imbued interest in learning and is a true encyclopedia. He went to school for a while and doesn’t know English; but he has read all the books in Malayalam. He knows our family history and has written down many things in a notebook. No one has seen it. He recently passed away just before he crossed eighty.

Kirangatu Mana

One day we went to attend a function at Kirangattu mana. I was in the women’s wing. I looked towards the outer wing of men and was overjoyed to see KRS (Unniaphan, the son of Ramaphan)

He took me around and showed me a wonderful new world. At about 3 o’clock in the afternoon, I suppose, an old man entered the temple. He sat on a tiger skin. KRS sat in front of him and repeated everything the old man recited.

After some time, he asked me: do you like to learn othu (Veda)?

I immediately said yes. So she told me to sit next to KRS and I also repeated the lines from Veda. I stayed in Kirangat mana with KRS for over a year.

Kirangatu Mana

Traditionally, the young namboodirs of the kk family went to Kirangatu mana. They were our gurus. For Rigvedis there was mathematics at Trichur and one at Thirunnavaya. None for us Yajurvedis.

So it was not a surprise for our guru. Surely my anxious face must have drawn his attention. At that time, the nambudiries of Anujan and Kunjanujan were not married. There were no children there. Naturally, we were pampered by everyone. There were many Nambudiri, most of them with wives in the royal palace of Tripunithura, who came there from time to time.

The tusks of Kesavan (elephant, property of mana) evoked awe and admiration. Iron chains recalled the glory of the famous animal whose beauty was only surpassed by his cruelty (he killed about 16 mahouts). Only Pozhichur namboodiri, who was just the shopkeeper and never failed to give Kesavan something to eat, could hold his fangs. In the presence of this man, Kesavan became docile like a child!

There was a large farm boat. The west side of the farm was a lake. I looked longingly at Chenam Island, but never had the good fortune of a boat ride. There were separate bathing facilities for gentlemen and ladies (as in all Namboodiri families) and an additional tank in the temple. Today they are all dry. A huge Mantadi tree provided us with dazzling red beads to play with. From time to time, Vasudevan from neighboring Kannath mana would join us. I can keep writing about those times…