Cor(o)nered!

A glimpse of the sky with cotton ball clouds floating around….Not the transcendental sky which posed questions to me. It is a threadbare sky I see through my glass windows…. Are we going to be caught within the walls? Are we cornered?

My heart swells up with emotions when I go back  to our sepia tinted lives of yesteryears!  Is it sepia tinted? No, those are the vibrantly coloured pages of our lives. We did not have the most luxurious living, we did not have things of our own..  The word, that was sparingly used during that time, was the word ‘my’; it was always ‘our room’, ‘our blanket’, ‘our umbrella’ or ‘our pencil’…. Everything shared by everyone! I remember the time when I could boastfully say something as ‘mine’, definitely with an excessive amount of pride, was when we got a pocket diary. We got it from our maternal uncle who was in Singapore. At that time the concept of diary writing was totally new to us. Achan gave us a  detailed account of the purpose of diary writing  and told us  how diaries could be kept as ‘secret diaries’ from others. (We still fondly remember how our father took delight in encouraging us to explore anything new!) It was quite unbelievable for me, a 7 year old at that time, to hear that there was something like a ‘diary’ which we did not have to share with others!

Now look at the generation around us! Look at us! Do we like to share our space? Do we like to share even the simplest of things? How easily could we replace the word ‘ours’ with ‘mine’! How our lives are changed!! We call it progress. Does progress mean neglecting human values and destroying Mother Earth? Does it mean stomping over tiny blades of grass, tearing apart the delicate woven nests and dismembering huge trees that gave us shades? Now where do we stand? The whole of humankind at the mercy of a miniscule virus! Look around us! We have fallen down, helplessly! Cornered by Corona. Do we still believe that we have the supreme power, we are the only ones who deserve the best and we are the rulers of earth?

Believing myself as a strong optimist, I don’t want to be intimidated by the darkenss. Let us believe that our future is not so bleak. Our resilience cannot be jeopardised! Mankind will not accept defeat. We are still holding our hands, standing united, lending our shoulders to lean on, yet practising social distancing. We will get over it; we will come out as winners, stronger and tougher. Let us not forget the lesson we have learnt from being cor(o)nered. Let us keep a promise not to take things for granted! Let us understand that every living being has the same right to enjoy the bounties of nature, just like us. Learn to accept that fact and respect it.

Can we go back to the way we lived? In simplicity, in gratitude – sharing things with others and showing care for others! It is not late! Remember the joy of living  in a small house surrounded by nature… The open doors inviting our neighbours… the open windows tempting the fresh fragrant air to come inside. Walking to schools and markets , meeting  familiar faces on our way and returning their smiles. Then coming back home and sitting together with our family or friends to share the day’s events, carefully colouring it with hues of imagination. Imagine the pleasure of finding a few souls at home, intently waiting to hear your anecdotes with the same fervour that we show now to watch a new Netflix season! These were enough to cheer our days! Wish to live in such a wonderful world after the Corona effect fades away!

The Silence of the Trees

“In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they’re still beautiful.”

Alice Walker

Trees contorted, yet majestic; bent in weird ways, yet reaching the clouds – I saw them in a narrow pathway in the courtyard of Good Shepherd auditorium in Bangalore. Webbed branches of these trees fill you with awe! Looking up, you can only see the chained sky with its scattered clouds trying to escape from  the tangled boughs. Can sky be so intimidated by trees? Standing under these trees, one can sense the helplessness of the sky prisoned between the majestic contorted branches.

How many generations have these trees seen? How many stories do they carry in their heart? Being a silent witness to the sorrows, smiles and pains of the passing generations of humankind has added many wrinkles on the trees. Wouldn’t their imprisoned hearts wish to spill out those stories to the newest generations who walk past them? Wouldn’t they be waiting to unburden their hearts of the many untold stories they still hold? 

The buttress roots of these trees have been a nurturing place for some money plants. These roots are the ones who decided to grow laterally on their own when they find the trees are not deeply rooted or lacking nutrition. They help the trees from falling off or malnourished. The gigantic trees at the mercy of these roots!! These roots are cradling the money plants with their wrinkled limbs reminding us that they all live in harmony.

The air underneath these trees has a profound wisdom. The soft breeze that blows here has a mysterious rhythm. It can fill you with a sense of enigma,   a sense of bewilderment and a sense of longing to be a part of them! When you are forced to leave their presence, a sense of abundance lingers in your mind….

Let our eyes feed on a morsel of nature, our ears the rhythm and music of Mother Earth. Why fret and hurry? As the poet says, let Nature be the anchor of our thoughts, the nurse, the guide, the guardian of our heart and soul!

“Once again I see
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees! “

Wordsworth

An Ode to Kanthan’s Wife

Who is Kanthan’s wife? This question came to my mind when I first listened to the Masala Coffee version of a folk song called “Kantha njanum Varaam Thrissur Pooram kaanaan..”.

The song is in the form of a series of requests (Is it really a request? That’s the question!) from a girl to her husband (Kanthan, a Malayalam synonym for ‘husband’) to take her to the famous Thrissur Pooram. Or it can even be looked upon as a song which talks about  a girl’s extreme desire to go and see Pooram. Through the lyrics of the song, we get to know how she expresses her wish to her husband. Just like any other folk song , the lyrics go simple – constantly repeating the same words which adds an ounce more simplicity to the song. She goes on listing out what she wants to do when she is being taken to her much awaited trip to see  Pooram . If you think her desires are limited to buy bangles, sindhoor or kajal you are mistaken! Here comes the feisty spirit of Kanthan’s wife! Don’t underestimate her. She is different! She makes her voice heard!

The song begins by addressing Kanthan and telling him she is also going to see Thrissur Pooram with him. She doesn’t ask; she says “ Njanum varaam” (I will also come).  Isn’t that so contrary to the concept of a mild and shy woman living in a male dominated society of yesteryears? Then she gives her reasoning one by one. And one wonders why Kanthan is so quiet!  His voice is not even heard once in the song! Is he pondering over reasons to wash off her adventurous spirit? Or is he too awed to speak?

She starts her list by saying that she wants to see the instrument thimila, a percussion instrument in the Panchavadhyam -the temple orchestra.  Don’t think that our lady will be happy just with the sight of a thimila; she wants to play the thimila too. Then she jumps to the next instrument and expresses her yearning to see it first and then to try using her skills in playing it. Kanthan still remains quiet! Awestruck? Dazed? I am sure he has all reasons to be happy to have a wife whose heart fans the flames of a knightly gest! And she dares to speak about it to him!

 The ending of the song is the most exhilarating one with Kanthan’s wife stating her wish to see the famous Pooram fireworks followed by her desire to light one of the firecrackers. Her spirit cannot be tamed, guys! Seize the moment, Carpe diem! She does not believe in being trapped inside the four walls.

And did you notice the manner in which she lists out her desires to her husband?  She talks about the simplest wish first – her wish to see; then takes  it to the further level of being an integral part of it- be it playing the instrument or lighting up the firework. And each wish is followed by her sweet way of calling him ‘Kantha’. Can Kanthan say ‘No’ to such innocent and ‘uncomplicated’ requests? 

The repetition of ‘Kanthaa’ gives her an image of a soft spoken and domesticated wife who is totally dependent on her husband. Concealed inside this image, is her free spirit -the bashful bride turning into a daredevil by the end of the song. If you notice the rhythm of the song, it begins at a slow pace with a slow increase in its pace as her wishes go each level up. And she does not implore , she does not plead. She is clear with what she wants and she expresses it without any reticence! Isn’t she simply superb? Someone who wants to go with what her heart yearns for. Isn’t that the hyped up idea of 21st century ? And Kanthan’s wife believed in it centuries back! Salute her!

What was Kanthan’s decision? Did he too share his wife’s youthful bravado? Could he take her to the Pooram and fulfil her wishes (the last one does not sound easy to me!) ignoring many raised eyebrows from his family?  I am curious…..

The wardrobe that opened to a new world..

Childhood memories never fade. At times, these memories are pushed into a corner unconsciously; but quite often we stumble upon that abandoned corner only to take out the pieces together to find out that the colours are as bright as before. I always feel sad when someone says he/she does not have any coloured memories of childhood days.  I can see the pain in their eyes and hear the ache in their words when they say so. If you have a happy childhood, you grow into a happy person -a strong one. Agatha Christie has rightly said, “one of the luckiest things that can happen to you in life is, I think, to have a happy childhood.”

A picture speaks thousand words. I am sharing something about a picture which I  saw recently while searching for some images on the net. And it did speak to me – loud and clear, flooding my mind with a thousand memories, bringing in an aching joy. It opened one of the wonderful pages from my childhood.

We (my sister, brother and I) were brought up in a small sleepy town which preferred to be in a reverie most of the time. It neither did meddle in people’s lives nor meddle with the world’s latest issues. It was a small world, yet the best one for us – a world of happiness and love with our parents in the  company of each other and,  of course, books.

I still remember the thrill of getting a new book from our father- be it Amar Chithra Katha, Phantom/Mandrake comics or children’s magazines Poombatta or Balarama. I still remember the exhiliaration we felt while waiting for Achan’s story telling sessions of English classics. The books took us to a new world, from the sleepy little town to the snow-capped mountains of Russia, the meandering waters of Thames or to the unreachable outskirts of fairy lands. And we loved it!

This picture is from one of the books Achan had given us when we were children. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Nothing did I know about the fantasy fiction that C S Lewis has written to enlighten children; nothing did I know about the ‘whiskered furry face’ of Aslan, the great saviour of the happy land of Narnia. The girl who held the book then, never ever imagined  that her daughter would be watching movies about Narnia years later … Or her students would be discussing the new Netflix adaptation of The Chronicles of Narnia with her in a faraway country, so far away from her old laid-back town! It was just another book for me, back in time. The pale green cover with the beautiful illustration of two girls playing with a lion was the first thing I noticed. And I saw the garland, a garland of bright orange and yellow flowers, clearly and unmistakably! When I knew the book had illustrations, the more I was interested.  

Picture Courtsey – Google

Everything in that book was new to me – the huge wardrobes where you can hang in coats were new to me. A wardrobe where  a child can get in was new to me! We only had small wooden or iron cupboards during those days and  you can imagine the wonder of a child who gets to know about something called a built-in wardrobe through which you can enter into an unknown world ! First time in my life, I heard about the mythical fauns, and the book showed me his black and white picture too.   I was totally captivated by one of the pictures in the book. And after three decades the same picture popped up bringing with it a rush of memories – the picture of the siblings sitting with the Beaver family in front of a table.

Picture courtsey – Google

Just like any other child, I did not miss out a single detail in that picture. The reading stopped when I saw the picture, me eyeing at each and everything in that picture, my imagination running riot beyond the scene. Though it looks like a cluttered room to me now, what I saw then was a beautiful home.  I admired the way the beavers hung the utensils and stacked the boots. I wondered what was boiling in the pan on the stove to which C S Lewis did not have any answer. But he could make me believe that animals had homes and they too had happy meals time! 

Wasn’t our childhood wonderful? We had visions which made anything and everything enchanting. We were not unhappy with our lives. We were extremely excited to see new things, to know new lifestyles and new people. Even if they looked better than ours, we never felt jealous! We knew how to derive vicarious pleasure. Ours was a small world, but we could take anything to our small world, and it rubbed out the boundaries making our world expansive, merging it with other worlds. We could find happiness, delight and excitement even in the pages of a book. Those are the simple pleasures. The memories of childhood fill you up with a special emotion, a special kind of warmth which cannot be put in words. Or is it something like what C S Lewis says in his all-time favourite book?

….. “Perhaps it has sometimes happened to you in a dream that someone says something which you don’t understand but in the dream it feels as if it had some enormous meaning — either a terrifying one which turns the whole dream into a nightmare or else a lovely meaning too lovely to put into words, which makes the dream so beautiful that you remember it all your life and are always wishing you could get into the dream again. It was like that now.”

No timbrels and pipes , I heard…

A modern version of an old song by Bhadra on Music Mojo, that I have recently listened to, has motivated me to write this. The song is from a Malayalam movie, Thacholi Othenan  – ‘Kottum njan kettilla, kuzhalum njan kettilla.’ (Does it remind you of Keats’s “What pipes and timbrels?” – Ode on a Grecian Urn)

This song is a celebration of nature. It goes like a monologue in which the singer goes on asking a few  questions to her friends (who are all seen playing together in a ‘man-made studio garden’) The questions are all  very simple wondering about the embellishments that the plants and trees bear. The lyrics of P Bhaskaran are relevant to the context of Kerala because the girls who  are singing and dancing to the song are from a small region of Northern Malabar in Kerala.

What are they singing about? Let me try to give you the gist for those whom Malayalam is an alien tongue. Hope I can bring the essence out of it without slaying its body and soul!

It is a series of questions in four verses, each one celebrating the visual elements of nature except for the last one which shifts from visual to auditory. In the first verse, the singer is surprised to see the pearl mangalsutra of a jasmine thicket because she says she hasn’t heard the accompaniment of drumbeats or pipes associated with a typical Malayali wedding. The jasmine bush as a bride in full bloom with its pearly white necklace- such an imaginative way of creating a visual image!

Then she goes on asking her saghi (friend) how Konna (Indian Golden Shower) is seen decorated with a golden necklace. She marvels how it is possible without spotting a goldsmith in the vicinity.

KONNA>

And the next visual image is a localised one in  Kerala’s cultural context. The poet is bringing the  image of the Murikku (also called as Indian Coral Tree/Tiger’s Claw) with its bright red flowers. The singer notices the sprinkled sindhoor on the tree’s forehead. Is it spread all over her forehead because she does not own a mirror? Or has she gone to take part in Kaliyattam, a ritual dance in Kerala to glorify the Goddess Kali. The girl ponders.  These are all rich, imaginative visual imagery glorifying nature. Nature is at its splendour. And don’t forget to notice that this is more like a casual, light hearted conversation among friends. Observant of the blessings of nature and sprinkling it with a touch of imagination and sharing it with friends. Do we have the time to see the beauty around us? Some may have… But does it go  beyond clicking a picture and passing on.. Do we have the time to paint a bright, colourful picture with words like the poet has done?

The last verse of the song brings out the playful spirit of the young girls. The girl sees two spotted cuckoos getting into a cluster of creepers. She wonders why they are getting into it. Is it to sing a hymn or to make an amorous talk? Don’t miss the juxtaposition of ideas here. During evenings, chanting hymns to Gods was a routine in those days. Singing hymns is immediately contrasted with the sweet talk of the cuckoo couple. After all, the song is sung by a young girl seen playing and dancing with her friends. So isn’t it quite natural to see her mischievous thoughts being revealed to her friends?

The poetic beauty in this song is so idyllic. The poet is romanticising nature through some simple visual treats in a melody. The lyrical quality of this song is unmatched and it will never be forgotten.

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