OUR MAIDEN JOURNEY ON TRAIN
My
maiden journey by train to our ‘Valliachachan’s
(my maternal grandfather’s) Nanducanny Rubber Estate at Payyanad, Malappuram District, is worth mentioning. We were
taken by ‘Valliachachan,’ maternal
grandfather, in company with ‘Valliammachi,’
grandmother, ‘Ammachi,’ Mom and ‘Kunjamma,’ mom’s younger sister. ‘Valliachachan’
was a well built and handsome; and had a large forehead. His arms were firm, his chest as
hairy as a ram’s and as always maintained a rich
grizzled and brushed mustache. He was always clad in an impeccable white dhoti
and had a small paunch which perfectly fitted into his slack shirt. A fancy
shawl was loosely thrown over his shoulder. Though he had a good health and
physique he carried a walking stick, a prop in need. ‘Valliammachi’ was a fair and attractive lady, who adorned
golden-rimmed eyeglasses. I noted a few streaks of cinder gray manes she combed
into her black hair; and her hair was
twisted into a bun behind her head. She was
very efficient but docile. Kunjamma, their younger daughter was wearing a sari
and blouse with short sleeves, and her flowing long hair spilling over her shoulder, a modern and
attractive young lady then studying in St. Teresa’s College at Ernakulam. Apart
from them, ‘Ammachi’, ‘Pengal’ (my elder sister), Jacob,
Aleyamma, a toddler, and I were also in the group headed by my ‘Valliachachan,’ maternal grandfather. I remember the station bell clanged and the
passengers who had been sitting on benches or squatting on the platform began
bustling about. I heard the demented shrieking of whistle
before the train arrived slowly into the station. The engine was
hissing and it sent out clouds of steam. We boarded the train and made
ourselves comfortable. It must have been very hard for the steam engine to gain
momentum as coal had to be put into the burning fire with a huge shovel. I
watched the process in the passing trains whenever we halted at the stations.
When the train slowed down at manned level crossings on the semi-urban regions, I saw bullock-carts queued up to cross the track. In the urban areas the roads were cluttered with loaded trucks which were idling and honking as if to mock at us, waiting for the signals to change; the expression on the faces of people waiting for the arrival of the train was one of impatience and disgust. To a certain extent they were justified as most of those trains were never punctual.
Hawkers
were doing brisk business both on the platform and inside the bogies of our
train. These are common sights on a platform in the railway station. The shouts
of “Chaya…, Chaya…and Cappi…, Cappi….” reverberated
in the platform. Most of the vendors who entered the train had baskets loaded
with oranges, tender Palmyra palm-nuts, fried groundnuts, chikkies, or
groundnut toffee made locally using jaggery, lemon juice and even ginger
chocolates. The newspaper boy too came with breaking news of a chain snatcher
in a running train that was caught by the police and made a quick buck.
While
the train moved fast tearing the countryside, we saw picturesque sights of
labourers working in the fields; bullock carts trudging through the muddy
tracks, ladies carrying pots of water on their hip and hand, typical village
scenario. A few areas I saw small towns where chimneys were belching out thick
black clouds of smoke into the air and the streets were lined with miserable
cottages, I started feeling uncomfortable and dirty with specks of coal on my
clothes. So I fell into a muddled sleep through out the remainder of the
journey.
I
awoke suddenly, presumably due to the demented shrieking of nearby sirens. The
train was idling, as it had often done at other times. I gazed ‘Valliachachan’ keeping an eye on the
luggage containing, loose cash, ornaments, valuable documents and other things.
I was drowsy so I quickly dropped off to sleep again.
When
we reached Kuttippuram I was awakened by a bustling flurry of excitement. The
women especially, hastily freshened up, smartened themselves, and combed their
hair while some others started to gather their things together. The men buttoned
up their clothes. I was delighted to know that we were approaching our station.
We had to get off at Tirur. When the train reached, ‘Valliachachan’ sought the help of the railway porters to unload
the baggage. People were swarming out from the train. Outside, the sun was
blazing in full brilliance.
THE TEDIOUS TRIP TO OUR ESTATE
A
jeep picked us up at the station. The jeep clattered noisily when the driver
revved its engine taking us up and down the hilly tracts through certain
deserted bumpy roads; he snaked the jeep through the curves and the hair-pin
bends blowing its horn. When we were passing Kottakkal, the former fort-city,
Kunjamma saw the board of Kottakkal Arya Vaidyasala. ‘Valliachachan’ used to go there for his annual massage during the
monsoons. He told us, “They are
world famous for their Ayurvedic medicines and their treatment and massage in
their hospital at Kottakkal now in Malappuram District.” Vaidyaratnam Dr. P.S.
Warrier was the founder of the Hospital. Padmashri Dr. P.K. Warrier is the present
managing director and senior physician of the Kottakkal Arya Vaidyasala. I
recalled that we used to buy Ayurvedic medicines from Kottakkal Arya Vaidyasala
at Ernakulam.
As
we approached Malappuram the jeep was rumbling over the granite boulders, and
in and out of potholes. We gazed another jeep, the front portion of which was
crumpled. The driver of our jeep told us, “The steering column pierced that
driver’s chest, his head smashed against the windshield, and its driver died on
the spot.” It was really shocking. The buses that came from the opposite
direction were so rash and negligent on such roads tearing down the countryside
as if to wreck us. ‘Valliammachi,’ my grandmother, burst into prayer
every time the jeep jerked violently while driving down the crated road that
winds from the hills of Malappuram. We passed through Manjeri, a small town,
almost all the shops were thatched with hay or other long grass, and very few
had tiled roofs. The jeep took us to the nearest commutable point at Malamkulam
near Manjeri town. After everybody alighted, ‘Valliammachi’ was tugged out of the jeep. The local population who
had gathered at the tea shop for their tea break swarmed around the jeep. They
were talking to ‘Valliachachan’. They
informed him, “Chenkallu-kettiya lorry
kuthi, maram vazhikku kuruke veenu, thottathilekku pokan thatassam undu,
pattulla.” It literally meant a truck loaded with laterite stones “gored” (they
used the word gored instead of the word “hit”, a strange usage in their dialect)
a huge tree and that fell across the muddy road blocking our way to the estate.
They jovially asked me in their dialect, a little different from ours, “Ejj Engatta
Ponu?” -Where are you going? I smiled at them and said, “To ‘Valliachachan’s Estate”. They were content.
Kunju Mathai and Ayyappan were there to lug our baggage. They moved very fast and were far ahead of us.
They climbed the hill like wild animals that trod while crossing a tough and rough
terrain. Kunjamma gathered her hair into a coil and tied it up elegantly in a
bun and then she carried me on her hips.
As
we started climbing up the hill, our eyes leaped from rock to rock, hill to hill and we had a brilliant view of some hills, dipped in light, were gleaming. We could gaze at a huge hill, at a distance, partly covered
with rain clouds like a breast-cloth. It was really exciting to watch the rain clouds
penetrating through the woods like an army column advancing to occupy the enemy
territory.
The breath had caught on ‘Valliammachi’s throat; she was gasping. When we reached a vantage point we observed a spectacular
valley view. The ripe paddy fields swaying in the breeze and a few muddy houses
thatched with cadjan leaves were spotted. ‘Valliachachan’
told us that they were about hundred and fifty feet away by cross-country; but through
beaten tracks the distance would be two kilometers. The picturesque view of the
tiny streams and the meadows with grazing cattles were overwhelming.
From Malamkulam we had to walk about two
kilometers to reach the estate. Some area was part of a private forested area
with lot of ‘Nelli’, Gooseberry, trees; its branches overlapped and
looked like a canopy fighting the scorching sun. The branches of such trees
swayed back and forth in the afternoon breeze. We gazed at a troop of monkeys (Rheas monkeys) whose fur was orange-red in colour. Some of them had
fur completely black and a few of them had an orange-red body with black
coloured head. They were jumping back and forth on the Gooseberry trees. It was good fun watching them
and laughing at their various gimmicks. I slid down from Kunjamma’s arms and
ran after them, and pelted stones at them. Jacob too joined me. When he tripped on a small rock, and began
to fall forward, Pengal, my elder
sister, rushed on time to hold him up. We watched the
monkeys staring and making loud noises to scare the trespassers away. ‘Ammachi’ told me that they had already
had their fill of gooseberries and some of them were stacked in their pouches
for nibbling at a later stage in a more leisurely manner. The young ones cling
to their mother’s fur when they are carried by them. It was a very amazing
sight to behold! We too ate a few gooseberries. Drinking water after that makes the
water taste sweet. The wind was at our
back, pushing us forword as if the wind had had hands. Clouds came on our way, Jacob and I tried to catch bits of
these wandering rain clouds that came our way. The tedious journey made us all
tired and thoroughly exhausted. It took us a long time to reach our rubber
plantation and the estate bungalow.
Night was falling, In the sky the first stars, the biggest were kindling.
I went in. The moon must have appeared in the sky, for the small window of the
sanctury became softly, sweetly, lit. A big, black bee had entered from the
open window of the sanctuary and buzzed around the flame of the table lamp. After a bath I retired early
to bed, legs buried under the blanket.
OUR EXPERIENCE WITH RUBBER PLANTATION
The hours
passed, the stars dimmed, the daybreak came high
above the clouds. The cocks too announced the day break. The first rays were filtering through the big trees
and the estate was illuminated. The big hilly
terrain with rubber plantations was a new experience for me. In the morning, we
went to the plantation accompanied by Ayyappan, the trusted aide of ‘Valliachachan’. We enjoyed watching the
rubber tappers tapping and then collecting the rubber milk from the trees; this
was then mixed with acetic acid and water and put into aluminum dishes. By the
time they finished that work, the sun was
pouring vertically down upon the hills.
The shadows were gathered fearfully at the foot of the trees. The birds,
crouching voiceless in their nests waited for the scorching sun to to slip
down.
In
the afternoon, when the rubber milk thickened, we engraved our finger prints -
small childhood pleasures - on the raw rubber sheets before processing them
into sheets in the iron roller. The processed sheets were then dried in the
sun, smoked and sold in the market. As the price of rubber was very low the
profit from this did not break even.
I
told ‘Valliachachan’, that I am aware
that balloon, rubber-band and ball and the eraser my Pengal used to rub are made of rubber. “What are the other uses of this large
quantity of rubber?” He told me, “Rubber sheets are in great demand for manufacturing
tyres and tubes for varied vehicles. It is used for making slippers, foam beds,
cushions, and pillows. Rubber milk is used to make rubberized roads. It is
mixed with coir to manufacture beds and carpets. It is also used to produce gloves
for agriculturists and sophisticated surgical gloves.” His grand children,
Johns A. Neerackan, Jose A. Neerackan and Merly Jain children of Alex uncle
have started the popular “Neerakkan Gloves Pvt Ltd at Marangattupally in Palai
and Koothattukulam” and they are exporting surgical gloves to a lot of
countries abroad. Since it is in great demand, they have commenced a
manufacturing unit, Hi Care Thai Gloves Company Ltd, at Bangkok as well. The
rubber trees are used in the paper industry. The veneer of this tree trunk has
great demand in the plywood industry. The wood, after an oil treatment, is used
for making attractive furniture.
It
is significant to note that the third and fourth generation of such planters is
now enjoying the fruits of their ancestor’s hard labour.
A SUMMER RAIN
The
sky was overcast the next day afternoon. The sky ripped open by the thunder and
lightning that followed. The sky was piled up with more clouds. A cool east wind was
blowing and that became wilder, a few rain drops fell on my hands, face and on
the parched earth, thirsty earth rejoiced. The smell of the earth entered my
nostrils; and I enjoyed it. The rain started pouring down. The huge trees swayed back
and forth; and the rustling of leaves and branches turned into an ominous moan.
It was my maiden experience to watch the torrent pouring down the hill. Some
more heavy flashes of lightning and thunder crackled. ‘Valliachachan’ said that a lightning-bolt had struck somewhere closeby.
He said, “The highest peaks are struck by lightning.” I gazed at the drops of water dripping
from the leaves and the rivulets streaming through the trunk of huge trees, and
trickles
of water ran down, gathered and cascased among the slopy sides of the granite
wall on the side of the estate bunglow. In a few moments, a number of small streams
with red-hued loamy water slided hurriedly with a low gurgling down the hill
and flooded the canal at the foot of the hill. This water bickered down babbling
with the pebbles and flowed further down the valley chattering with rocky sides,
and whispering with the rocks jutting out into the canal, and murmerring with
thickets of bushes on the sides of canals to join the brimming River Chaliyar.
In
the morning, when I opened my eyes the freshly washed mountain was smiling
at the first rays of the sun. I gazed the raindrops that are still clinging to the leaves. The
dry grasses of the mountain was refreshed and balmy, The terrain became
slushy. However, it cooled the atmosphere and was a welcome relief in the
sweltering summer.
“KADAR” WOMEN
We
were fortunate to spot some of the women belonging to the scheduled tribes
namely, ‘Kadar’ and ‘Nayadikal’. They were a section of the
tribewomen in Malappuram District. They were engaged in our estate to cut down
the wild shrub trees beneath the rubber plantation. Though they were
darkskinned they looked gorgeous; the red and black stone jewelery they wore
covered their whole neck and nape and part of the chest but failed to envelop
the contours of their body. Their loins were clad in a short dhoti, the common
working attire. They were armed with a ‘Koduval’,
a large sickle, and a long stick, which helped them penetrate and cut the
thorny bushes. They were illiterate; socially, culturally and economically
backward. I listened to their conversation. ‘Ammachi’
told me that their dialect had more affinity to Tamil than Malayalam language.
They were very attached to our ‘Valliammachi’,
grandmother, who used to help them in their financial difficulties. They
gladly took the tapioca, plantains, clothing and the money she gave them.
‘Valliammachi’ told us that in return
they help her in cultivating paddy. I have also seen these tribewomen gathering
firewood, bundling and carrying a heavy load on their heads to the market at Manjeri.
There they sell it and buy their provisions. This was during a time when gas
stoves and electric stoves were not at all a common gadget in every household. The
tribemen normally go to the woods, collect certain roots, underground-stems,
leaves, fruits and nuts for food. They have a vast knowledge about herbal
medicines too. They love hunting. Their main targets were rats, rabbits, birds
and other small animals. In the evenings they would feast on their game to the
accompaniment of music, dance and country liquor, an inevitable adjunct. The tribeswomen
used to supply us with virgin honey, which their tribesmen collected from the
forest. ‘Valliammachi’ really
appreciated this token of gratitude from them. They loved to hear the radio emitting
sweet music. Squinting from behind the golden-rimmed
eyeglasses, ‘Valliammachi’ would direct Kunjamma occasionally,
to entertain them by operating the record player which emanated music. They
were fascinated by this new electronic device which played all their favourite
songs. I observed their hands and legs moved according to the tune and rhythm
as they blissfully enjoyed the music.
I
reliably learned that these tribal groups were one of the original populations,
who occupied the Malabar Coast. There were a few other similar original Dravidian
populations like the ‘Malayars’,
‘Kurumbars’, and ‘Kurichiyars’
whose settlements are located in various pockets of the Sahyadri Mountains and
hills in the states of Kerala, Tamilnadu, Karnataka and Goa. Some of these
tribal groups regularly participate in the “Bharani”
festival conducted in the Bhagavathy Temple at Kodungallur (Muzuris), which was
their family deity. They lost their wars with the later invaders like the ‘Nambuthiris’ and ‘Nairs’, who came to Kerala in the beginning of A.D. and these
unorganized Dravidas found their abode deep inside the forest. They lost their
culture and civilization in due course of time. The central and the state
governments are duty bound to provide food, clothing, shelter, compulsory
education for their young ones, medical help and adequate protection to their
life, honour and property in order to bring them back to the main stream to
share the wealth and glory of this great country.
GOATS OF ‘VALLIACHACHAN’
‘Valliachachan’ was very interested in
rearing goats. It was amazing to gaze at them climbing the rocks. They could
run really fast on the rocky hills. They bleated through their gaping mouth. Their
shed smelt pungently of urine and goat droppings. I was fond of goats although they have an unpleasant
odour. Valliachachan told me, “It is the secretion from the glands below
its eyes and other parts which made the goats have that distinct odour.” It is
this odour that makes the goats flock together. Some people use goat milk to
make tea but not all people relish it. It was interesting to watch them fight
with each other with their horns to gain supremacy. ‘Valliachachan’ warned us that the bull goats with horns and a
beard could gore me in the chest if I went too close to it. Jacob and I used to
run around and play with the little goats; they too were very fast for us. Be
it on the hilly terrain or on the rocks it was difficult to keep pace with them
or even catch them.
Suddenly
a white
ram with black patches and twisted horns was pursuing a black eve, trying to
mount her, and she to escape. He seized her again with his front paws and fell
forward on to her with a feeble moan, as though beseeching her…Exhausted, as
though she too could no longer master her desire, the eve suddenly stopped still
and yielded.
The
mutton for a biriyani made by our cooks Kochanna and helper Mary was obtained
from a three year old male goat which was killed for this purpose.
TREES THAT GROW ON ROCKS
I
observed a lot of trees that grow in the rocky hill near our place. ‘Valliachachan’ showed us Sandal-wood
trees and Gooseberry trees among them. I was amazed to note that seeds of
particular trees, shrubs and herbs sprout in the cracks of rocks. Such trees
send their penetrating roots through the tiny crevices in the rock by which
they get water and minerals for their sustenance. As the plants get bigger its
root force open the cracks until the rock splits and breaks. He pointed out
that the upper layer of the rock wears out and breaks due to the constant
battering of the water, wind and weather.
A COBRA
Aboobaker, the tapper, while cleaning the lean-to where the
roller machine was kept. When he tried to move the plaited cadjan leaves to one
side, a six feet long black snake slid out; lifted its hooded head and neck and
stood erect. I rubbed my eyes and looked at it.
The snake, too, looked at us with its tiny, cunning eyes and hissed. We
kept quiet. After a few minutes it burrowed his body into the crevices of a rock
little away. Aboobaker told us that it is Cobra, a venomous snake.
A VISIT TO ‘INAM’ FOREST
One
evening, when the wild animals were active after their afternoon siesta, ‘Valliachachan’ took us to ‘Inam Kadu’, a small forested area, near
to our plantation, granted by the government to one of his neighbours as a gift
for the service rendered by him, This area had a lot of monkeys, wild boars and other animals. We were
very happy to gaze them at such close proximity.
Sunlight
was filtering through the branches and leaves of huge trees. We could gaze at troops of monkeys jumping from
one side to the other, and some of them were engrossed in eating leaves, shoots
and fruits of peculiar trees and orchards. They love cashew apples and mangoes.
I noted a few monkeys and their young ones picking lice and grooming their
furs. The branches of the
huge trees swayed gently in the afternoon breeze. The leaves rustled in soft
whispers. As usual I slipped down from Kunjamma’s arms. Jacob also joined.
Kunjamma gave us an encouraging wink as she knew we were up to some mischief. We
pelted stones at them, and they made loud noises to scare us away. ‘Valliachachan’ asked us to be very quiet
as when disturbed they would disappear into the forest. We marveled a few wild
squirrels that were hurriedly moving from branch to branch collecting nuts from
the tall trees around. These squirrels and the monkeys stack their pouches with
nuts and fruits in their pouch for a relaxed feast. ‘Valliachachan’ was not willing to take us inside the forest as
there were a lot of snakes in there. We were lucky to gaze at a herd of wild
boars. There were a few big ones and a lot of young ones moving fast into the ‘Inam’ forest. ‘Valliachachan’
told us, “They have tusks on either side, which are actually an extension of
their teeth which they use to dig burrows in the ground. This is where they
keep their young ones to hide them from predators and poachers. They even
attack the hunters by passing in between their legs. This quick and unexpected
movement would cause a severe injury to the inner side of thigh region of the hunter.”
They eat anything from grass, leaves, fruits, nuts and tube-roots like tapioca
and yam. ‘Valliachachan’ said, “It
destroys seedlings of rubber and therefore it is a perennial menace to the
farmers.” He further told us, “There is a similar animal, which has quills on his
body, if attacked he jerks his body and the quills would sting the predator.” Ammachi guessed right as it was a
Porcupine that he was talking about. We were looking forward to the wild-boar meat
curry that we were to have that night for dinner. On our way back we spotted a
wild rooster crossing our pathway. It flew a short distance and took cover
under the bush. We also noted a pair of tiny spotted doves.
‘Valliachachan’ took us to a slushy
red earth spot where he showed us varied foot prints of countless animals. I pointed out cloven-hoof prints of oxen which Jacob and I was familiar with. He told us that the local
villagers allowed their cattle to freely roam and cross the forest area.”
We noticed the sun was slipping down to the horizon. The shadows fell over
the hill. On
our way back, we noticed a very sturdy muddy
hill, too, which was about four meters high; we were curious to know more
about it; ‘Valliachachan’ told us
that it was a termite’s hill; we went near it and looked inside through a
broken portion of it. It was multistoried with separate compartments. We observed
the termites busy carrying wood particles inside. We were surprised to discern
that these tiny termites are also social beings that have their dreams. They
also know to build multistoried apartments with store houses in which they
stock up food for a rainy day.
‘Ammachi’ told us, “The termites
practice division of labour like the honey bee.” They have a queen, who is the
leader and it lays numerous eggs to maintain their force. There are a lot of
bread winners and a set of guards to protect them. It is a wonderful social set
up.
I
had noticed the marriage ceremony of these termites during the monsoon season.
The wings that are developed during the monsoon enable them to fly at a height
of eight meters. After a while they all fall scattered and become prey of the
predators like birds, frogs and other insects. A few survivors join together
with a queen to form new colonies.
The
ants that laid up stores; the bees too filled honey in the comb placed in the
crevices of rocks or beneath the branches of tall ‘Ilavum’, Silk Cotton trees, for a rainy day. Did the tiny creatures
like the ants and bees taught men to stock grains in granaries and food in warehouses?
These tiny animals have contributed a lot to the development of human
civilization. May be these creatures also taught man the art of war and the
theory that “attack is the best form of defense?”
A natural stream near the forest made us all
jump into it and take a bath which refreshed us. I noted the high pitched humming of crickets, the chirping
of nesting birds, the shadows changing and the rapid approach of night.
‘Ammachi’ who had finished her
night prayers was getting dinner ready for us. ‘Valliammachi’ served ‘Kappapuzhukku’,
pieces of steamed tapioca, and pork fry. As expected the meat was so delicious.
We were so tired after our hectic day out that we went off to sleep. Just as we
were falling asleep I heard a loud and long howl, which stirred and shook me. The howling was
persistent and the fowls too started to cluck. I had never heard this kind of
howls before so I woke up a little curious to know what it was. ‘Valliammachi’ too heard it. She told me
they were a pack of famished jackals. The howl of a jackal inducing another to
do the same, and then all of them in the pack started howling as if they caught
the contagion. I had never seen this animal. I made sure the doors were locked
and then tiptoeing I approached the window and gazed out. It was pitching dark.
I could see nothing. But I could hear the rustling of dry leaves while they strode
out through the rubber plantation, the floor of which was covered with fallen
leaves. ‘Valliammachi’ asked me to light the torch and flash it in
all directions outside the bungalow. I could gaze at the shining eyes that were
moving. The beams from the torch scared away the pack of jackals and they left
the area immediately. The howl of the jackals rang out again, far off, in the
night. This
was a wonderful experience. With the ear cocked towards the open window, I
listened to the voices of the night; owls were moaning, the mice were
scampering over the roof-beams with sharp squeaks.
Although
it was a short visit which lasted only a week we enjoyed the hilly terrain and
some of its fauna and flora. It was a wonderful experience. I thanked God for
giving me this short vacation on my grandfather’s estate. I remembered ‘Ammachi’ telling us, “Travel adds to
one’s knowledge.”
Excerpts from
MEMOIRS
An autobiography
by
Joseph J. Thayamkeril
Lawyer, Kochi, Kerala, India.
josephjthayamkeril.blogspot.com
josephjthayamkeril@google.com
josephjthayamkeril@gmail.com
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