Showing posts with label Kerala. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kerala. Show all posts

Saturday, 11 April 2026

Medam to Chingam: The History of Vishu and the Shift in Kerala’s Malayalam Calendar

Vishu is the Malayalam New Year and is celebrated by Malayalees in Kerala, Tulu Nadu, Mahe and other parts of the world. It falls on the first day of the month of Medam — the first month of the Solar calendar used in Malabar — signifying the solar new year as the sun moves into the zodiac sign of Aries.  In 2026, Vishu falls on Wednesday, April 15, 2026.

The word "Vishu" itself comes from Sanskrit, meaning "equal," and the festival celebrates the vernal equinox, when day and night are roughly equal in length. It marks the first day of the astronomical year and is a celebration of new beginnings, hope, and prosperity.

Vishu has both astronomical and mythological significance:

Astronomically, it marks the sun's entry into Aries, beginning a new solar cycle. It is also considered an auspicious day for farmers, as it marks the beginning of a new agricultural cycle — the belief being that a good harvest in the coming year depends on how the first day of the year goes.

Mythologically, one significance is that on this day, Lord Krishna killed the demon Narakasura, and the festival is celebrated to mark his victory. Lord Vishnu is worshipped as the "God of Time," and Krishna idols are prominently displayed during the celebrations.

A change of calendars 1201 years ago

In 825 CE, Kerala (or the region that’s now Kerala) switched to a different calendar (which is also a solar sidereal calendar) for which the first month is Chingam and New Year in this calendar (the 1st of Chingam) falls around August 17. The Kollam Era calendar is the one more widely used today for official and everyday purposes in Kerala, which is why many Malayalees also consider Chingam 1 a new year of sorts. But Vishu's roots lie in the older solar sidereal calendar where Medam comes first.

Why did Kerala (for want of a better way of describing the region that’s now Kerala) switch from one calendar to another? There are various theories.

1. The most popular theory is that in the year 825 CE, a great convention in the town of Kollam (which was called Quilon by the British, which continued until 2012) at the behest of King Kulashekhara Varman, who was the Chera king. At the convention, the Kollavarsham calendar was commenced by royal decree passed by Udayamarthanda Varma, the local ruler at whose seat (Kollam) this convention took place. According to one scholar, Kollavarsham also marked a political transition — from the reign of the Perumals to a new caste-based rule. The commencement of Kollavarsham was, in this view, a declaration of political and cultural change in Kerala.

2. A second theory (propounded by Hermann Gundert) is that Kollavarsham started as part of erecting a new Shiva Temple in Kollam, and because of the strictly local and religious background, other regions did not follow this system at first. Once the Kollam port emerged as an important trade center, however, other regions also started to follow the new calendar system.

3. A third theory links the calendar's origin to the birth of the great philosopher Adi Shankaracharya, whose birth has been dated to around 825 CE by some accounts.

4. It has also been theorised that the new era commemorated the foundation of Kollam by Maruwan Sapir Iso, leader of Persian Christian settlers and trading guilds, following the liberation of the Kingdom of Venad from Chola rule.

In any event, the rise of Kollam as a major international port played a big role in spreading the new calendar. As merchants from Persia, China, and the Arab world converged on Kollam, having a locally standardized calendar likely served practical administrative and commercial purposes.

Tamil New Year and Vishu: Any difference?

The old Malayalam calendar was the same as the current Tamil calendar, which hasn’t undergone any change since the Sangam period when records began to be kept. Both were solar sidereal calendars with the same core principles:

  • Months are defined by the Sun’s transit into each sidereal zodiac sign (Rashi/Sankranti).
  • The New Year begins on Mesha Sankranti (Sun entering Aries/Mesha Rashi), which marks Medam 1 in Malayalam nomenclature or Chithirai 1 in Tamil.
  • This is the same astronomical event that traditionally started the year in both regions.

In most years, the Tamil New Year falls on the same day as Vishu. However, in 2026, the Tamil New Year will be celebrated on April 14th and Vishu will be commemorated on April 15th.  This gap of one day in 2026 highlights a practical, regional nuance rather than a fundamental calendar difference:

In 2026, the Mesha Sankranti moment occurs on Tuesday, April 14 at approximately 9:39 AM IST (exact timing varies slightly by panchang, but generally mid-morning). Tamil tradition takes the day of the Sankranti itself as the New Year, regardless of the exact hour (as long as it falls after sunrise). In current Kerala/Malayalam panchang practice, when the Mesha Sankranti moment occurs after sunrise, the festival day is the next sunrise for Vishu Kani preparations and rituals. This is not a “calendar split” between Tamil and old Malayalam systems — it’s a modern observance convention difference between Tamil Nadu’s panchangs and Kerala’s for the same underlying astronomical event.

What is a solar sidereal calendar?

Sidereal comes from the Latin word sidus, meaning “star” or “constellation.” In astronomy and timekeeping, “sidereal” refers to any measurement or cycle that is calculated relative to the fixed stars in the sky, rather than relative to the Sun or the seasons. Imagine the sky has a huge, fixed “star map” (the constellations of the zodiac). A sidereal period is the time it takes for the Sun, Moon, or a planet to return to the exact same spot against that fixed star background. This is different from tropical (or “solar-seasonal”) measurements, which are tied to the Sun’s position relative to Earth’s equator and the changing seasons (equinoxes and solstices).

A digression: What about the rest of India?

The majority of Indian communities follow lunar or lunisolar calendars. The purely solar calendars of Kerala and Tamil Nadu are an exception to the rule in India.

The main lunisolar calendars followed in India are the following:

1. Vikram Samvat is the most widely used calendar in India. It is a lunisolar calendar using twelve lunar months and an intercalary month each sidereal year. Its epoch is 57 BCE and is used across northern and western India, and is the official calendar of Nepal. Rajasthan, Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh, Punjab, and Himachal Pradesh all follow variants of this. The Sikh community also follows this calendar.

2. Shalivahana Shaka is popular in the Deccan region of southern India and forms the basis for India's official national calendar. It is followed in Maharashtra, Goa, Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh, and Telangana. Their new year — called Ugadi by Kannadigas and Telugus — falls on the new moon of the lunar month of Chaitra, typically in March or April.

3. Bengali Calendar is used in West Bengal and Bangladesh. It gives rise to the Bengali new year Poila Boishakh in mid-April.

4. Odia, Assamese, and Maithili calendars: It is used in Odisha, Assam, and Bihar/ Jharkhand respectively.

The Muslims follow a purely lunar calendar — the Islamic Hijri calendar — with no intercalary months to sync with the solar year, which is why Ramadan and Eid migrate through all seasons over a 33-year cycle.

Early Buddhist communities adopted the ancient Vedic calendar and Buddhist festivals continue to be scheduled according to a lunar system. Similarly, ancient Jain traditions follow the same lunisolar system as the Hindu calendar for festivals and inscriptions.

Further digression: How Lunisolar Calendars Work

The Hindu lunisolar calendar is based on lunar months corresponding to the phases of the moon. In one year, there are twelve months of 29.5 days, accounting for a total of 354 days. The shortfall means that the date of each festival moves back 11 days each year. To rectify this, an extra "leap month" — called an Adhik Maas or Purushottam Maas — is added about once every three years. This is how the calendar keeps festivals roughly anchored to the same season year after year.

Within each month there are two fortnights called pakshas ("wings"), based on the waxing and waning of the moon. The waning moon fortnight is called Krishna paksha (dark fortnight) and the waxing moon fortnight is called Shukla paksha (bright fortnight). Each half contains 15 lunar days called tithis. Some observant Hindus fast on the 11th day (Ekadashi) of each fortnight.

There's also a regional split within lunisolar systems: regions following the Amavasyanta (or Amanta) calendar conclude each month on the new moon day, followed primarily in southern and eastern India, while the Purnimanta calendar ends the month on the full moon day, followed mostly in northern and northwestern states.

Back to Kerala and Vishu: How is Vishu celebrated in Kerala?

1. Vishu Kani – The Auspicious “First Sight”

This is the heart of Vishu celebrations and the most important ritual.

  • The night before Vishu, the elders of the house carefully arrange a traditional brass vessel (uruli) or tray with auspicious items symbolizing abundance.
  • At dawn (often before sunrise), family members (especially children) are led blindfolded into the prayer room. They open their eyes to see the “Vishu Kani” first, ensuring the year begins with prosperity and positivity.

Typical items in a traditional Vishu Kani include:

  • A lit nilavilakku (traditional oil lamp)
  • Idol or picture of Lord Krishna (or Vishnu)
  • Golden shower flowers (Kani Konna / Cassia fistula)
  • Raw rice, coconut (split), golden cucumber, lemon, jackfruit, mango, banana
  • Mirror (Aranmula kannadi or ordinary mirror)
  • Coins, gold ornaments, betel leaves, arecanut
  • Fresh paddy sheaves and turmeric

2. Vishu Kaineetam

After viewing the Kani, elders (usually grandparents or parents) give money or small gifts to children and younger family members. The amount traditionally ends in “1” (e.g., ₹11, ₹51, ₹101) as a symbol of good fortune. New clothes (Vishukodi) are also gifted.

3. Feasting – Vishu Kanji & Vishu Sadya

Food plays a big role:

  • Morning: Many families start with Vishu Kanji (a special rice porridge) or Vishu Katta (a steamed rice cake).
  • Lunch: The grand Vishu Sadya—a vegetarian feast served on a banana leaf. It includes rice, sambar, aviyal, olan, erissery, thoran, pachadi, kichadi, pappadam, and payasams (especially ada pradhaman or chakka pradhaman). Bitter-sweet dishes like mango pachadi and neem preparations symbolise life’s mixed experiences.

4. Other Traditions

Fireworks (Vishu Padakkam): Children and families burst crackers and sparklers, especially in the evening, adding joy and noise to the celebrations.

Temple Visits: Devotees flock to temples (especially Guruvayur Sri Krishna Temple, Sri Padmanabhaswamy Temple in Thiruvananthapuram, or local Krishna temples) for special poojas and to see the temple’s own Vishu Kani.

Family Time & New Beginnings: People wear new clothes, exchange greetings, and many consider it auspicious to start new ventures or make important decisions on this day.

Wishing you a prosperous Vishu filled with joy, good food, and bright beginnings! 🌼✨

Friday, 14 March 2014

Book Review: Dolmens in the Blue Mountain, by Kandathil Sebastian

The chain of evergreen hills which forms the Western Ghats runs through the entire eastern length of Kerala and is home to a variety of flora and fauna. At one time, it was inhabited entirely by hill tribes, but over the past hundred years, Malayalam speaking immigrants from the coastal plains have taken over the hills completely. Just as in the rest of Kerala, the Ghats are dotted with concrete monstrosities, built with remittances from overseas. Stone quarries have laid waste to large sections of the ever green hills. Much of the wildlife has been systematically hunted down to extinction. The biggest losers however have been the hill tribes, who believe that the hills are imbued with the spirits of their gods and goddess and whose ancestors sleep in dolmens on cliff tops. The tribal population of Kerala’s Western Ghats has been decimated ever since the migrations began and large parts of the traditional homelands over which they roamed have been denied to them under the pretext of forest conservation.

The extreme damage caused to the ecology of the Western Ghats in Kerala has been repeated in five other states, prompting the Kasturirangan panel to recommend that around 60,000 sq km of Western Ghats, spread across six states, should be turned into a no-go area for commercial activities like mining, thermal power plants, polluting industries and large housing plans. These recommendations have evoked violent opposition, especially in Kerala.

Through Dolmens in the Blue Mountain, author Kandathil Sebastian tells us the story of a hardworking Syrian Catholic farmer, Devasy who starts life as a sharecropper for a Nair landlord at Ezhacherry, a village fifty kilometres away from the famous port Allepey and prospers to become a landlord in his own right, and Devasy’s descendants. Devasy’s son Ouseph (Malayalam for Joseph) fathers five children, two boys and three girls and builds a church at Ezhacherry. Ouseph could have educated his children, but doesn’t, even though his second son Thomman is keen to study. Ouseph’s elder son Varghese migrates to the hills and starts farming on cleared forest land with the help of tribals, to whom he supplies arrack. Varghese has two sons, Philipose and Dominic. Varghese’s brother Thomman stays on at Ezhacherry and ends up in jail after killing a goon who was trying to rob him of his money. Thomman’s son Saju is intelligent and hardworking, though Thomman cannot afford to send him to an English medium school and saju is forced to attend a Malayalam medium school.

Dolmens in the Blue Mountain is the story of Philipose and Dominic, their cousin Saju, Deven, the tribal boy whose father had helped Varghese conquer the hills, Deven’s wife Kannnagi who is raped and exploited by Philipose and who takes to the path of violence in the company of other Naxals and finally of the dolmens where Deven’s and Kannagi’s ancestors rest. Sebastian’s charatcers are authentic and one can find them all over Kerala’s Ghats and in the various places all over the world to which these hardy folks have migrated. Philipose is a ruthless exploiter who cultivates both politicians and cannabis. Dominic joins a seminary, but leaves disenchanted, unable to tolerate the total obedience and subservience demanded by the Church. He ends up in Canada, married to a nurse, the fate of so many Keralite Christian men who are unable to find a remunerative vocation by the time they reach a marriageable age. Saju, despite not having had the best schooling and undaunted by his inability to clear the civil services exam, obtains a Ph.D and works in the development sector, happy in his own skin. The author’s bio at the end of the book confirmed my suspicion that Saju’s story is that of the author.

Sebastian writes in the sort of everyday English spoken by the majority of Keralites and other Indians. Though every sentence in the novel might not receive a stamp of approval from Wren and Martin and Sebastian constantly flip-flops from the present tense to the past, something I found disconcerting, Dolmens in the Blue Mountain is on the whole, well-conceived and executed. A very interesting read, I would recommend Dolmens in the Blue Mountain to everyone interested in knowing more about Kerala, especially its Syrian Catholic community which is very influential and punches above its weight in Kerala’s politics.

Wednesday, 11 July 2012

Book Review: Kith and Kin – Chronicles Of A Clan, by Sheila Kumar




Three generations of the Melekats are represented in Sheila Kumar’s short story collection Kith and Kin. There’s Melekat Ammini Amma, the Matriarch, her son Balan, daughters Padmini and Leela and a number of assorted grandchildren. The Melekat folks are a breed apart. Hailing from an aristocratic Nair family in northern Kerala, some of them can be arrogant, just as many are down to earth. Good looks run in the family and many Melekats are handsome or extremely beautiful, like Ammini Amma herself or her daughter Padmini. There are exceptions of course, such as Padmini’s daughter Beena. In this modern day and age, they live in various parts of India and travel overseas quite often. Over nineteen delightful stories Sheila Kumar manages to gently suss out the vagaries and idiosyncrasies of this exotic breed, their spouses, partners and lovers, and the reader ends up wanting for more.

The Melekat family believes in its importance and image and takes great pains to maintain it. When Ammini Amma’s daughter Padmini becomes a widow, she is relieved because her tuberculosis afflicted husband had inflicted a great deal of suffering on her. She has a fourteen month old son and a number of older children. Though her husband had imposed a frugal life on her, or maybe because of it, there is enough money to go around for the rest of their lives. Plus she has Saju, her Man Friday who is such a comfort to have around. The family descends for the funeral and later insists that she fire Saju since Saju no longer acted like a servant and it was only a matter of time before people started talking. Padmini tries to resist – 'Does no one care that I need Saju here?' she bursts out. 'Servants are dispensible, They must be dispensible,' is the refrain from the rest of the family. Family pride wins in the end. Saju is sacked, but as he leaves, he utters a couple of sentences which turn the story, Cast In Mourning, on its head.

Yes, a handful of stories in this collection come with a Jeffrey Archeresque twist in the end. These are quite unexpected, especially because these do not seem to be stories with a hidden or surprise ending. Cast In Mourning would have been a good read even without the sudden turn towards the end.

The best thing about Kith and Kin is that Kumar does not make any value judgements. Colours, the story of Beena (Padmini’s daughter and the Matriarch’s granddaughter) is a case in point. Beena’s folks are on the lookout for a suitable boy for her. The first proposal comes in when Beena is twenty-two. Some boys reject Beena and Beena rejects a few, such as one on the ground the man lived in Ghatkopar. Time passes by and not too smoothly. Finally when Beena is close to thirty and her younger brother Amar is already married, she meets a man she likes. Does “tall, dark and handsome who holds a good job in London” reciprocate? Do read Colours to find out. Mind you, the ending doesn’t really matter since the breeze in Sheila Kumar’s farm is gentle, irrespective of the direction.

The Melekat clan might be ancient, but modern values and ailments have caught up with them. Some marriages are broken, some of the Melekats make unfaithful partners, and some like Ammini Amma’s granddaughter Suvarna seem to be commitment phobic. However, Sheila Kumar never plays judge and all characters receive equal respect for the diversity they represent.

You can’t have a clan like the Melekats without a family home, something on the lines of Tara or Manderley. The sprawling Melekat family house is incongruously named Mon Repos and has an outhouse, called The Retreat. Mon Repos, despite its French name, is a typical Kerala house with mango, almond and chikoo trees, a cowshed with its distinctive smells and lowing animals inside and a tiled brick shed where water was boiled in copper bottomed vats for the numerous oil baths.

I could go on in much more detail – there are nineteen stories in all. However I’ll stop here with a gentle Sheila-esque suggestion that Kith and Kin be added to your reading list at your earliest convenience.

Monday, 7 November 2011

A Taste of Kerala – Stories From Simhapara

A few years ago, on a lark, I wrote a collection of ten short stories set in Simhapara, a fictional village in Kerala. Published on Epic India Magazine and later on Winnowed, I thought it would be a good idea to have the links to these stories in one place. Here they are:

1. The Boy Who Killed A Rainbow

2. Hundred Rupees

3. A New Beginning

4. A Difficult Decision

5. A Pristine Landscape

6. New Kid On The Block

7. Bad Hair Day

8. The Hidden Smile

9. The Family Heirloom

10. A Suitable Father

Sunday, 9 August 2009

Syrian Christians, Brahmin Ancestors and St. Thomas

The Syrian Christians of Kerala form a caste that is as distinctive as any other in India. Within this caste, there are many sects. Syrian Christians may be Syrian Catholics or Jacobites or Orthodox or Marthomites or even Anglican Christians. Syrian Catholics owe allegiance to the Pope in Rome, the Jacobites to the Patriarch (or Bava) based in Antioch (modern day Turkey), the Orthodox Syrian Christians to a Catholicos based at Devalokam in Kottayam, Kerala, the Marthomites to a Metropolitan based at Thiruvalla in Kerala and the Anglicans to the Archbishop at Canterbury.

Most (but not all) Syrian Christians, irrespective of their sect, have two pet beliefs. One is that each and every Syrian Christian is descended from a Namboodiri or Keralite Brahmin convert to Christianity. The other belief is that their ancestors were converted by St. Thomas, one of Jesus’s twelve disciples, who reached Kerala in the year 52 A.D.

I use the word ‘belief’ for the notions I have mentioned above, because that’s just what they are.

The first belief, that all Syrian Christians have a Brahmin heritage, was never taken too seriously by historians or other experts. I remember reading a book by Sheila Chandra many years ago (I can’t lay hands on this book now) which explains in detail why this is a ridiculous idea.

Recently Varkey Cardinal Vidayathil, the senior most Catholic clergy man in Kerala and one of the cardinals in the Papal conclave which elected Pope Benedict XVI, was interviewed by author Shinie Antony for a Rupa anthology on Kerala titled ‘Kerala, Kerala, Quite Contrary’ (which by the way has one of my short stories titled ‘A Matter of Faith’). Cardinal Vidayathil’s interview is published in this anthology in the form of an article titled ‘Stone the Sin, Not the Sinner.’ In this piece, the Cardinal says that the theories about the Brahminical origin of Syrian Christians are baseless and shouldn’t be taken seriously.

The second belief is that St. Thomas visited the land, which is now called Kerala, and converted a number of Namboodiris (Brahmins of Kerala) to Christianity. According to this belief, St. Thomas did not seek or make converts from any other caste. Anyone with a basic idea of either Indian history or Christian ethos will realise why this sounds very ridiculous. If at all St. Thomas visited India, he is unlikely to have been casteist and would not have focussed only on the upper castes. After all, wasn’t Christ’s mission all about helping the poor and the down-trodden?

Unlike other disciples like Peter or Mathew or Luke, not much is known about the early life of St. Thomas, that is, his life before he became a disciple of Jesus. In fact, it is not even clear if ‘Thomas’ was his real name. ‘Thomas’ means ‘twin’ in Aramaic and it was most probably just a nickname. It is well known that Peter, Andrew, James and John were fishermen and that Mathew was a tax collector. If St. Peter were to have visited India, you can be sure that he would have had a special message for fisher folk, though he is very unlikely to have interacted only with the fisher folk. If St. Thomas had been the son of a rabbi, he might have found it easier to converse with the learned Namboodiris, but he is very unlikely to have focussed only on them.

Secondly, if you subscribe to the Aryan migration/invasion theory, which I do, the migrant Namboodiris made their way to Kerala only by around the 7th century. If there were no Namboodiris in Kerala two thousand years ago, St. Thomas is unlikely to have converted them to Christianity.

It is also a matter for debate whether St. Thomas visited Kerala in the first place. Even though Syrian Christian tradition fervently believes that St. Thomas did visit Kerala, Christian scholars and western historians are yet to agree on this. A few years ago, Pope Benedict XVI created a controversy when, while addressing a vast crowd at the St Peter’s square, he stated that “Thomas first evanglised Syria and Persia and then penetrated as far as western India from where Christianity reached also south India”. In other words, according to Pope Benedict XVI, St. Thomas never visited or evangelised Kerala, but only visited the land which is now Pakistan and if at all Christianity spread to Kerala, it was from north India.

Pope Benedict VI’s statement caused a furore in Kerala. George Nedungatt, a Keralite scholar based in Rome, declared that the Pope’s statement was tantamount to declaring that St. Thomas was the 'Apostle of Pakistan', rather than that of India. George Nedungatt is a faculty member of the Oriental Pontifical Institute, Rome.

Pope Benedict XVI, despite various shortcomings, is a scholar and a theologian. He is the first Pope to seriously question the belief that St. Thomas visited and evangelised Kerala. Prior to that most Popes had towed the populist line without actually affirming that St. Thomas was in Kerala. For example, in 1990, Pope John Paul II wrote that the Syro-Malabar church of Kerala "as the constant tradition holds, owed its origin to the preaching of Apostle St Thomas."

It is a fact that when the Portuguese arrived in India, they found Christianity already in existence in Kerala. It was an Indianised form of Christianity, barely differentiable from Hinduism. Jesus was yet another God in the Indian pantheon of Gods. The Portuguese didn’t like what they saw, especially the fact that the Christians owed allegiance to the Syrian Orthodox Church which had its head quarters and a bishop in Antioch (then a part of the Ottoman empire, now in modern day Turkey) and that the mass was recited in Syriac or Aramaic (hence the name Syrian Christians). The Portuguese, using a mix of force and persuasion, managed to convert many of the Syrian Christians to Catholicism. Those converts became Syrian Catholics and switched allegiance from the Patriarch in Antioch to the Pope in Rome, though their mass continued to be in Syriac. Till 1965 when the Second Vatican Council decided to allow mass in the vernacular, Syrian Catholics continued to have their mass in Syriac, while other converts to Catholicism used Latin. Since almost all those converted from Hinduism to Christianity by the Portuguese were lower castes, in Kerala, Latin Christians came to be classified as a backward class, which Syrian Christians, supposedly the descendants of Namboodiris, were treated as upper castes.

Syrian Christians have always occupied a very high position in Keralite society. Those who believe in a Brahminical lineage would say that this status is because all Syrian Christians are Namboodiri converts. However, it is very likely that the initial converts to Christianity came from a variety of backgrounds, but because of their ties with the traders who converted them, were much more commercial and hence prosperous and respected. Over a period of time, before the arrival of the Portuguese, they must have coalesced into a monolithic community.

Despite pressure to switch to the Catholic faith and the Pope in Rome, many Syrian Christians refused to tow the Portuguese line and continued to owe allegiance to the Patriarch in Antioch. In 1653, a number of them took a public oath at a place called Koonan Cross or Koonan Kurisu to defy the Portuguese and to persist with the Syrian rites and liturgy. This section, now called the Jacobites, have seen various splits in their ranks in the last two hundred years.

In 1836, a reformist movement arose within the Jacobite Church, which sought autonomy from the Patriarch at Antioch. This movement eventually led to the formation of what is now called the Malankara Marthoma Syrian Church. As mentioned above, the Marthomite church is headed by a Metropolitan based at Thiruvalla in Kerala.

In 1879, missionaries from Church Mission Society of London (part of the Anglican Church) established a branch of the Church of England in Kerala. Many Jacobites and a few Syrian Catholics joined this Church which is now called the Church of South India (CSI). However, most members of the CSI Church are direct converts from Hinduism.

In 1911, Bishop Wattessril Mor Dionysius led a group of Jacobites, mainly from southern Kerala, who broke off from the Jacobite church and formed the Malankara Orthodox Syrian Church which doesn’t have any ties to the patriarch at Antioch. Instead, they report to a Catholicos of the East based at Devalokam in Kottayam, Kerala,

On 20 September 1930, Bishop Mar Ivanios broke off from the Jacobites and joined the Catholic Church. The Jacobites who thus became Catholics form the Syro-Malankara Catholic Church, which can be described as a semi-autonomous church within the Catholic Church.

Apologies for having digressed, but to get back to the issue as to whether St. Thomas did visit Kerala, the answer is, ‘we don’t know for sure’. However, we do know that Christianity has been in existence in India, especially in Kerala, much before the arrival of the Portuguese. In all probability, Christianity arrived in Kerala along with the spice trade that has been going on for many millennia. It is an accepted fact that a bunch of Christians from Syria came to Kerala in the 4th century and settled there. This community which is called the Knanaya (meaning “of Canaan”) community, did not co-mingle or blend with the native population, whether or not there were any Christians in Kerala at that time. It practised and still practices purity laws akin to that of the Parsis whereby anyone who marries outside the community is ostracised.

Prior to the arrival of the Portuguese, the Syrian Christians of Kerala, not only owed allegiance to the Patriarch at Antioch, they also had pretty good cultural exchanges with other Syrian Christians elsewhere in Asia Minor.

None of this however can prove or disprove whether St. Thomas did visit Kerala.

It is understandable that many Syrian Christians were upset by Pope Benedict’s statement that St. Thomas never visited Kerala. I would like to see Syrian Christians take the view that it doesn’t matter whether St. Thomas visited Kerala or not. Christianity is supposed to be an egalitarian religion. One converted by St. Thomas can’t be superior to one converted by a common trader from Asia Minor or someone else. However, as a matter of curiosity, I would like to see historians establish the truth one way or the other, in my lifetime that is.

Saturday, 13 December 2008

Short Story: ENTRAPMENT

Preetha was followed by three young men as she walked home. From behind, they made loud comments on her looks. Occasionally they would walk up to her and brush against her or blow into her hair, before retreating a few yards. Hoping to evade her tormentors, Preetha left the foot-path and blindly stepped into the busy main road. She was hit by a large white van and died on the spot.

“Kerala roads most unsafe for women” a newspaper headline screamed. “Eve-teasing rife in Kerala” another headline shouted. “Kerala has the worst record for eve-teasing in India”, a third one declared. The Home Minister grimly went through the news reports as he ate breakfast. His wife was yet to wake up. He rarely saw his seventeen year old son who spent most of his waking hours with his friends. That afternoon, the Home Minister presided over a meeting of various police officers. ‘Something needs to be done’, he told them. ‘Otherwise the bloody newspapers will say I am useless.’

‘I plan to increase the number of foot patrols,’ the Inspector General of Police, or IG as he was known, told the Home Minister.

‘As if that will satisfy those press vultures!’

A bright young officer who had recently joined the Indian Police Service wanted a new approach. ‘Sir, I think we should change the terminology we use. Eve-teasing sounds too frivolous. Sexual harassment is the phrase universally used to describe this type of behaviour.’

‘What’s in a name?’ a senior police officer said in a flippant manner.

‘Or in a phrase,’ another added jovially.

A grizzled veteran spoke up. ‘Sir, why don’t we send out a few policewomen as decoys, catch some of these eve-teasers and make an example out of them?’

‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ the IG said adopting his subordinate’s idea as his own. ‘We send out a lone policewoman in civil dress. An unmarked police car tails her and records everything. A few policemen follow at a safe distance. Once we’ve recorded enough evidence, we catch the culprits red-handed.’

‘And after we catch them, we take them to the police station and thrash the shit out of them. And lock them up for a few days.’ The Home Minister liked the idea.

‘Oh No! We must do things by the book or we’ll end up with negative publicity. It’ll be up to the courts to award appropriate punishment. We’ll have enough evidence anyway.’

‘I don’t trust the courts to deliver justice. In any event, nothing will prevent me from announcing the names of the culprits we catch at a news conference.’

‘I’m sure that will be alright,’ the IG agreed.

The finer points of the scheme were soon ironed out. A few days later, a young policeman woman wearing a silk saree and carrying a leather handbag ambled along a busy thoroughfare in Thiruvananthapuram. The Home Minister anxiously waited in his office for the results of this audacious experiment. If successful, it would be rolled out in other cities in Kerala.

Finally his phone rang.

‘What happened?’ he demanded.

‘Sir, we have caught four college students in the act.’ For some reason, the police officer at the other end did not sound very enthusiastic.

‘Splendid! I hope you have them in your safe custody. Fax me their names, the names of their parents, details of the colleges where they are studying and I’ll organise the press conference.’

‘Sir, this time I feel we should let these boys off with just a warning.’

‘Like hell we’ll do that.’

‘Well Sir, one of the boys claims he is your son. And we think that he may be speaking the truth.’

Sunday, 7 December 2008

Blessings Forever

Tenny bowed in front of his grandparents. His grandmother had tears in her eyes as she blessed him. His grandfather, on the other hand, had an amused look on his face. As Tenny’s grandmother started to mutter a prayer, the photographer yelled, ‘stop it right there.’ ‘Grandfather,’ he commanded Tenny’s grandfather, ‘you move a little bit forward. And grandmother,’ he pointed towards Tenny’s grandmother, ‘you turn slightly to the left.’

‘No. No. Don’t move too much,’ the video cameraman objected in an equally loud voice, lifting his head from the eye-piece of the video camera in his hand as his assistant flashed a warm beam of light on a perspiring Tenny and his grandparents. ‘Don’t move them too much, he told the photographer curtly. He was much younger than the photographer, but the video cameraman always outranked the photographer at any Kerala wedding.

‘No, I won’t. Just a little bit,’ the photographer compromised. Tenny’s grandparents moved forwards and sideways according to the directions they received, the crowd of people swarming around them also moving to give them the space they needed.

‘Go on now. Give him the blessing,’ the photographer gave the go-ahead. Tenny’s grandmother dutifully recited her prayer once again, but the spirit had gone out of her. Now it was just a show for the benefit of the cameras. Tenny continued to sweat profusely despite the ceiling fan whirling overhead furiously. There must have been around fifty relatives in that small drawing room, packed around Tenny and his grandparents.

‘Done! Done! Who’s next?’

Tenny’s maternal grandmother tentatively came forward. ‘Ammachi, go forward,’ Tenny’s younger sister prompted her, but the cameras made the old lady twice as shy as her widowhood demanded.

‘Tenny’s suit – its cut is so old fashioned,’ a cousin from Kolkata muttered. ‘Did he get it made in the UK?’

‘No, of course not. It’s the bride’s people who pay for the suit.’

‘True, but he could still have bought it in England.’

‘I think the bride’s father arranged to have it stitched by a tailor in Kottayam.’

‘No wonder …’

‘Who’s next?’ the photographer demanded.

‘It has to be Daddy and Mummy,’ Tenny’s elder brother suggested cautiously. He wasn’t old enough to be sure if the groom’s parents outranked the groom’s father’s elder brother and his wife.

‘Shouldn’t it be Perappan and Peramma?’ someone queried.

‘No, no, after the grandparents, the parents, then all paternal uncles and aunts in the order of seniority and then all maternal uncles and aunts,’ the photographer informed them, his authority derived from his long years of experience in recording weddings. Eight pairs of maternal uncles and aunts quietly prepared to wait their turn.

‘Yes, yes, Tenny’s father and mother should bless Tenny before I do,’ Tenny’s Perappan declared with a tinge of embarrassment.

Tenny’s mother walked up to Tenny, followed by his father.

‘A little bit to this side,’ the video cameraman ordered. ‘The father should stand to the mother’s left.’

‘Let’s not waste too much time over positions. We need to be in church by eleven. So, why don’t you take the photographs as best as you …’

‘Don’t you want the photographs to turn out well? Twenty years from now, do you want someone to look at your son’s wedding photos and wonder why you are in the wrong position?’ Tenny’s father did not have an answer to the photographer’s questions.

‘These blessings are eternal. To be recorded forever, and it’s my job to make sure they are done right. Our job,’ the photographer hastily corrected before the video cameraman or his assistant could say anything.

‘We are paying six thousand for the photographs and ten thousand for the video,’ Tenny’s brother informed an uncle in hushed tones, without hiding his pride at spending so much money on photos and video.

Tenny’s Perappan and Peramma took up their positions soon after.

‘Thank God Tenny managed to land a job in England. If he hadn’t…

‘It was I who advised him to study nursing. Everyone said I was mad. No one likes the idea of male nurses, but these days they are the ones who manage to get jobs in England and America.’

‘Tenny is not in England. He is in Scotland. In a nursing home faraway from civilisation. Our nurses get jobs in places where white people don’t like to work.’

‘I’m sure it’s good enough for Tenny,’ another uncle, this one Tenny’s father’s sister’s husband, sniggered.

‘Your turn will come up soon,’ someone informed the sniggering uncle who looked around for his wife. ‘Where’s Leilamma?’ he asked someone standing nearby.

‘No idea.’

‘Is Leilamma around?’

‘She’s here.’ Leilamma could be espied on the other side of the room, tucked in between three other relatives.

‘It’s ten twenty already. We will have to start for the church by ten forty.’ Tenny’s mother announced.

‘We need to take a few shots of the groom leaving the house and getting into the car. Ten minutes for that,’ the photographer said.

‘We can be a few minutes late. It doesn’t matter if we don’t get to the church by eleven.’

‘Oh no!’ the video cameraman objected. ‘We must get to the church before the bride does. I need to shoot the bride getting out of her car.’

‘Won’t that be recorded by the bride’s video?’

‘Don’t you want your own video show the bride getting out of her car at the church?’

‘At this rate, we will not be able to get everyone to bless Tenny.’

‘Can’t you take photos of Tenny getting out of the house while the rest of us bless him?’ an aunt asked only to be drowned out by hoots of laughter. Her two sons, Tenny’s cousins, cringed in embarrassment.

‘Never mind. As many blessings as possible till ten thirty. Then we leave.’

No one objected. Tenny continued to receive blessings at a pace dictated by the photographer and video cameraman.

Sunday, 16 November 2008

Short Story: A Few Reasons to Return Home

Sreejit’s face has a look of intense concentration as his fat index finger glides over his blackberry's scroller. No, Tim hasn't replied to his angry email yet. To be honest, Sreejit isn't expecting a reply from that bastard. Tim's last email had made it clear that the next round of discussions would take place only after three months.

The man sitting to Sreejit's left has a respectful look on his face. A blackberry is not a very common sight in Kerala, not even in the first class waiting room at the Ernakulam Junction railway station. The man wants to tell Sreejit something, but Sreejit refuses to make eye contact. Instead, he opens old emails on his blackberry and reads them, his eyes focussing on the blackberry's screen intensely as if he is reading something very important, as if they are unread emails.

An announcement is made over the loudspeaker. The Netravati express is 'shortly expected to arrive on platform number 3.' Sreejit rolls his eyes in exasperation and puts the blackberry into the travel pouch around his waist. 'I don't believe this,' he says loud enough for his neighbour to hear.

Sreejit’s neighbour does not let go of the opportunity. 'This train is always late. Today it is late by only forty minutes. Usually it is late by at least four hours.'

Sreejit exhales and tells his neighbour, 'before leaving for the station, I called up Railway Enquiries and asked them if this train was on time. And they said it was.'

'IST stands for Indian Stretchable Time. Forty minutes late ... that's not late at all!’ the neighbour guffaws. ‘Once this Netravati Express was twenty four hours late. It came exactly on time, the next day!'

'I guess I've got used to seeing things done in a different way. I've been away from all this for almost five years now.'

The opening is not wasted. 'Are you from the States?'

'No, from the UK. I mean, things are not perfect over there. Trains do run late once in a while. But, this ...’ here Sreejit stops for emphasis. ‘This is incredible. They don't even apologise for the train being late. And of course, there is no need to explain to us why the train is late.'

Sreejit's neighbour becomes an apologist for Indian Railways. 'Netravati is coming all the way from Bombay. A journey of over 24 hours. So it can be a little bit late.'

'I ought to have taken a taxi to Trivandrum. I was told the train will be more comfortable. Now I'm not too sure.'

'My name is Babu. What's your good name?'

Sreejit is trapped. As a rule, he does not talk to strangers when travelling on trains. A habit inculcated over five years cannot be ignored. But he does not have a choice. He is forced to admit that he answers to Sreejit.

The train enters the station majestically. There is a rush of activity. People rush to the doors and mill around. Some people start getting inside even before the passengers have got off the train. Sreejit and Babu are travelling first class and so they don't have to fight their way into the train. They settle in a section of the compartment which has only two other people, an old man sleeping in a corner and a woman in her thirties.

The first class seats are reasonably comfortable, but there's dirt on the windows. Sreejit takes care to ensure that he doesn't touch the window sill.

The train has been at the station for fourteen minutes now. Sreejit looks at his watch and gives Babu an enquiring look. Why not? Babu is more than happy to explain matters. 'This train has come all the way from Bombay. At this stage, it won't be very punctual.'

'Makes a lot of sense to me. It's a 28 hour journey to Trivandrum, isn't it? Why be punctual for the last leg from Ernakulam?' Sreejit does not hide his scorn.

'It's scheduled to stop for ten minutes. Since it is late...'

'Since it is running late, I would expect it to leave as early as possible. It's been here for almost fifteen minutes now.'

Babu changes the topic. 'Are trains very punctual in England?'

Sreejit sighs and gives Babu a happy smile. He takes his time in replying. 'You know, I have a rather long commute to my place of work. I live in Reigate, that's in Surrey and I catch a train to London Bridge from Reigate everyday. Once every ten days or so, a train will be late, by a couple of minutes. And once a month or so, a train will be held up for say, ten minutes.'

'Is that all? In India we are used to trains running late all the time....'

'When a train is late by a few minutes, we start cribbing. In the UK, people complain about minor things. Out here people are passive. People don't care if the trains run late.'

'There's not much point in cribbing in India. We have too many people and not enough ...'

'I don't think so. It's also a question of attitude. If a train is late, there will an announcement every few minutes explaining the reason for the absence. They'll tell us the train is held up at such and such a place due to such and such a reason.'

'You must find it so difficult here after living in England.'

'I hate to say this, but after living in the UK, it's so difficult to adjust to the way things are done here.'

The train moves off and Sreejit heaves a sigh of relief. 'Finally,' he exhales. Babu sighs in relief as well, as if he is too embarrassed at having been let down by Indian Railways in front of a foreigner.

Sreejit decides to re-read the email he received from Tim a few days before he went on leave. It doesn't matter how many times he has read it before, Sreejit feels a fresh pang of rejection each time. Tim's email was very blunt and to the point. As discussed at the review meeting held the previous day, Sreejit's performance was not satisfactory. They didn't think he was capable of fulfilling the requirements of his role. They realised that Sreejit had a demanding role, but if Sreejit could not improve his performance and meet the five objective parameters set out below in the next three months, they would ask him to leave.

A vendor arrives with lunch boxes – there's chicken biriyani, sambhar rice, curd rice, fish curry rice etc. Sreejit buys a chicken biriyani while Babu settles for some curd rice. They start eating.

'I heard that food in England is very bad. Is that true?'

'Not at all. It is very hygienic and clean. You won't fall ill if you eat food from a vendor on a train.'

'Oh! Do you have people selling food items like this?'

'No, but each train, especially the long distance ones, will have a buffet trolley with an assortment of sandwiches and beverages.'

'Sandwiches! Is that all you get? It must be very difficult to live on such things?'

'I am used to that now. Actually, these days, I don't like spicy food. Come to think of it, why add spices to food? They don't have any nutritional value. In fact, they deflect the real taste of food. If you eat spicy food all your life, your taste buds will slowly die. You won't be able to appreciate subtle flavours. In fact, Indian food doesn't have subtle flavours.'

They go back to their foil packed food. Sreejit chuckles to himself. At the pub the day before he went on leave, he had nicknamed Tim Dr. No and everyone had laughed. Hopefully the name would stick. Tim had a habit of starting every sentence with a No. They all hated Tim and his joke had made him very popular. But Sreejit was the first of Tim's victims. Why had Tim picked on Sreejit?

Sreejit finishes his lunch first, because he doesn't eat half of it. He looks around for a bin to dump his foil pack, but doesn't find one. 'Just throw it out of the window,' Babu tells him. Sreejit is disgusted beyond words, but he reluctantly opens a window and throws out the wrapper. He then goes to the end of the compartment to wash his fingers in the tap. When he comes back, Babu is the process of disposing his lunch wrapper through the window.

'I just don't understand why there can't be a few bins in every compartment? Labour is cheap in this country. It won't cost too much to have the bins emptied at every other station!'

'We are used to all this,' Babu put in mildly.

'I guess I shouldn't be shocked, but I am. Each time I return to India, I get a jolt when I see the way things are done here.'

They are silent for a while. The train reaches Allepey, but no one enters the first class compartment.

Sreejit opens Tim's email once again. He goes through the five parameters they have set for him. They appear objective but they are not. His technical knowledge apparently is not good enough. How the heck can such an allegation be called objective? Before Tim arrived on the scene with a mandate to 'trim' the company, no one had complained about his technical knowledge. If at the end of three months, Tim ‘objectively’ decides that his technical knowledge is still not good enough, they can fire him and there is precious little he can do about it. He has consulted an employment lawyer. His company is entitled to fire him as long as it follows all the procedures, he has been told. He can take his company to the employment tribunal claiming unfair dismissal, but unless he can prove that his termination is on account of race or religion, he is unlikely to win. No, he can prove nothing of that sort. All his colleagues are polite to him outwardly. No one has assailed him on account of his religion or skin colour. He isn't a homosexual or anything is he? his lawyer had asked him wistfully. If he is and is being harassed about it by his boss, he might sustain a claim that he is being terminated on account of his sexual orientation. No, I am not gay, Sreejit had politely replied though he wanted to scream at the lawyer who charged him 300 pounds an hour.

It is actually the last of the five parameters which hurts the most. He can live with an allegation of inadequate technical knowledge since he knows that it is a lie. But he cannot live down the allegation that his client handling skills need to be improved. He has been asked to work on his verbal skills so that clients can understand him better. It was the last parameter which forced him to shoot off an angry reply to Tim just before he caught the flight to India. Yes, I do speak with an accent. However, I've never had trouble communicating with anyone. That idiot who complained about my accent last month is prejudiced. He is biased. He is a racist. You don't have to believe him. Surely you know me better than that. I have been in the UK for 5 years now and my accent had always been legible. It was not as if I spend all my time talking to clients. Not more than ten percent of my time is spent with clients. I have been with the company for three years now and there has been only one complaint so far.

He knows that Tim won’t reply to his email. The Human Resources department has prepared Tim's email and any response will also be prepared by HR. They have done it many times before. The UK has some of the most employee friendly laws in the world, but if an employer wants to fire an employee, he can do so, provided he is patient and is willing to pay lip service to all the rules.

'So you don't see yourself ever returning to India, do you?' Babu asks him.

'Actually, I might. There are so many things about India I don't like, but India is still home. I will come back to Kerala one day and settle down here.'

'Really! That's very good. I thought you are....' Babu hesitates and then continues, '..you are one of those who hate India so much that they will never return.'

'Ha! Ha! Of course not! I have gained so much from my experience in the UK and when I return, I will have a lot to contribute.'

'I'm sure of that. When are you likely to return for good? Anytime soon?'

'I don't know. I may come back in a year's time, I may return after ten years. It all depends.'

Babu is too polite to ask what it depends on and merely gives Sreejit a smile as he goes back to his blackberry.

Saturday, 1 November 2008

Short Story: A Delightful Old Lady

Mark saw the old woman wave at them and ignored her. She must be waving at someone else he told himself as he struggled with little Anna in his arms and the big rucksack on his back. When the old woman waved for the second time, John spotted her and said, 'Look Mummy, she's waving at us.'

Karen turned around to look in the direction John was pointing and was rewarded with a few more waves. There was no doubt about it. The old woman standing behind the wicket gate was indeed waving at them or rather beckoning them to her.

'Mark, she's waving at us,' Karen needlessly told Mark who was by then looking in the old lady's direction.

Mark hesitated and said, 'she looks harmless. Shall we go take a look?'

'Why not?' Karen said rather crossly because she knew that John would be upset if they didn't. She was quite tired after trekking through the tea covered hills that loomed all around them. If she had a choice, she would have rather they continued their trek back to their hotel at Peermade, which was at least 30 minutes away.

As John led the way, Karen said doubtfully, 'may be she wants to ask us for money!' There had been no scarcity of beggars ever since they had landed in India two weeks ago.

'Doesn't look like it,' Mark muttered, more to himself than to Karen, as he continued to lead the way to the small cottage, which had peeling cream paint and a red roof.

'Hi!' Mark told the old woman much before he was within her hearing range. But he nodded as well and so she smiled in reply and opened the wicket gate a little bit.

She had a squeaky high pitched voice. 'I saw you people walking with the big bags and the baby and I thought you must be very, very, tired. Why don't you come in and have some tea?'

Mark was perplexed. Where he came from, people didn't invite you for tea just like that. He gaped at the old woman who was wearing a faded red pullover that came up to her knees and a skirt with some funky pleats. Karen must have been really tired because from behind she said, 'That's so nice of you. I'd like some tea. Thank you so much.'

The old woman opened the gate fully wide and walked back to the cottage, halting after every few steps so that she could turn around to see if they were following her. Mark realised that what she wore underneath her red-pullover was a saree and not a skirt.

The cottage's veranda had an assortment of potted plants, some of which definitely needed trimming. The veranda led to a small drawing room furnished with a set of three plush settees covered in red. The walls were lined with cupboards crammed with books and toys. 'Do please sit down,' the woman said. Without losing the permanent wide grin plastered on her face, the woman rang a bell. Mark and Karen sat on the edges of the largest settee wondering what was coming next. John sat in between them. Karen had Anna on her lap. The bell was rung once more. A young woman in a dirty saree materialised with a smile and a pair of enquiring eyes. A five year old child had been clinging to her saree till a moment ago, but now the child was waiting for her mother just beyond eyeshot of the guests.

'Kavitha, some tea for these fine people,' the old woman told the maid and was rewarded with a perplexed look. The order was repeated in Malayalam.

'Actually I would like a Four X,' Mark declared, only to get a sharp dig in his side from Karen.

'I beg your pardon. I don't understand,' the old woman told them. 'What would you like?'

'Oh never mind him,' Karen waved gaily at the old woman.

'I was just joking. Four X is the amber fluid we drink in Queensland,' Mark clarified.

'Never mind him,' Karen repeated yet again.

'Bring us three cups of tea,' the maid was ordered. She left the room for the kitchen, picking up her waiting daughter on the way.

'It's so good to see someone from England,' the old woman told them. 'My husband was the first Indian hired by the Beckley's Estate.'

'Actually we are Aussies, not Pommies,' Mark said. The old woman gave him a blank look.

'I have never been to England, but my husband went there once, just after the war.'

'My name is _______.' The old woman said a name which neither Mark, nor Karen caught.

'I'm sorry....I didn't get your name,' Karen said politely, her voice trailing off towards the end and waited for the old woman to repeat her name. She did not. Instead she waited for them to introduce themselves.

'I'm Mark. This is my partner Karen, my son John and my daughter Anna.'

'I'm so glad you decided to stop by for tea.'

They were all silent for a while. 'Things have changed so much, not necessarily for the better, you know..'

A sudden thought occurred to the old woman. 'Let me make sure Kavitha does not add milk and sugar to the tea,' she told them and disappeared through a door which led to the kitchen.

'Ma, can I have a lolly?' John asked as soon as the old woman left.

Instead of answering, Karen pointed at a cupboard filled with toys. 'John, oh look at that elephant! Isn't it beaut?'

'Ma, I want a lolly!' John insisted.

Mark got up and walked around, stretching himself.

'Ma, a lolly!'

'Mark, can you please take out that elephant for John?'

'I don't think we should. It looks dirty enough. The whole place is full of dust.' He walked over to a cupboard filled with books, peered inside and said, 'these books. They are so dusty and falling apart. I don't think anyone has read them in ages.'

'I want a lolly!' John said even louder. Mark quickly opened the toys cupboard and took out the elephant. For good measure, he took out a duck as well. The elephant was given to John and the duck to Anna.

John sat down on the carpeted floor and started to bounce the elephant up and down. Anna dropped the duck to the floor from where she sat on Karen's lap. Karen picked up the duck and gave it back to Anna who held on to it.

The old woman appeared with Kavitha behind her carrying a tea tray. Kavitha's daughter had tagged alongside her mother, but once again stopped just behind the curtains. 'I'm so glad I checked on Kavitha. I've told her so many times that English people like to be served tea without milk and sugar mixed in it, but she had forgotten!'

Kavitha put the tray on the table in front of Mark and Karen and went back to the kitchen.

The old woman poured out the tea.

'Milk?'

'Yes please.' 'Yes please.'

'Sugar?'

'Yes please.' 'Yes please.'

'What would your children like? Shall I get them some biscuits?'

Before Mark or Karen could reply, the old woman said, 'Kavitha can go to the shop and buy some biscuits, but it will take some time.'

'Oh! No drama. Please don't bother.'

'I was planning to buy some biscuits, but ...'

'How is you tea?'

'Ace,' Mark said.

'Pardon me?'

'It's very good.

'Do you have a lot of English visitors?'

'No, not really. Not many people come this way!'

'Don't you like the elephant?' the old woman asked John who had abandoned the elephant and was planning to renew his demand for a sweet.

John did not reply, but looked around wildly, his eyes darting from the toys cupboard to his mother.

'Would you like another toy little boy?'

The old woman walked over to the cupboard and picked out a soldier and handed it over to John.

'John, say thank you,' Karen reminded John who mumbled his thanks.

'He is such a sweet little boy. How long are you in India for?'

'Three weeks. We've done two already. Up north. Delhi, Jaipur, Agra and now we have a week in Kerala.'

'What do you do in England? Do you work for a bank or a company?'

'I manage a station. In Australia. We're Aussies you know.'

'A station? Is that a station for trains? A railway station?'

'No, for sheep. A large sheep farm.'

'You must be joking. You are not a shepherd. You must be a station manager at King's Cross or Charing Cross or Paddington.'

'It doesn't matter, does it? How long have you lived in this cottage?'

'For the last sixty years. After my husband retired, Beckley's gave him this cottage. When my husband was alive, we used to have a lot of visitors. We...

'We ought to be going,' Mark said as he put down his cup.

'John, let's put the toys back.' Mark tried to take the elephant and the soldier from John who held on to both of them.'

'Oh, let the little boy keep the toys.' The old woman turned to Anna and said, 'you can keep the duck.'

'But we can't do that,' Karen objected. 'I'm sure they are exy!'

'Please take them. There's nobody to play with them. I rarely get any visitors these days.'

'You could always give them to someone else.'

'There is no one else.'

The old woman rang the bell once again and Kavitha came in, picked up the tea tray and left, collecting her daughter from behind the curtains on the way back.

Mark and Karen continued to look hesitant.

'Would you like a plastic bag for the toys?'

'A bag would be good.'

The old woman shouted something at Kavitha's retreating back. Within a minute, Kavitha came back with a polythene bag and gave it to Mark.

'Can't do without plastic, though we call ourselves greenies.'

'I beg your pardon?' The old woman had the most politely puzzled look on her face.

'Never mind. Never mind. We got to be going. Thanks so much for the lovely tea.'

As they walked out, Karen said, 'she was such a delightful old lady, wasn't she?'

'Yup, but she was starting to yabber and she thought we were Pommies!'

'I didn't understand half of what she said.'

'Nether did I. And I doubt if she understood more than one-fourth of what we said.'

Karen giggled. 'Still, she was such a sweet, delightful old thing.'

'I guess John and Anna are the only children she has seen in a very long time!'

As they walked away, Kavitha and her daughter watched them for a while through a window. Then Kavitha went the sink and started to wash the tea cups and saucers. After she washed the cups and saucers, she kept them on the floor and told her daughter, 'here, you take this towel and wipe these cups and saucers dry.'

Saturday, 6 September 2008

Short Story: A SUITABLE FATHER

It was a quiet Sunday morning in Mumbai and the silence inside the flat was broken only by the chortling noises which the baby made. Jaimon and Lincy were supposed to be celebrating their third wedding anniversary. But they had quarrelled violently the previous night when Jaimon got home from work and there was little likelihood of them making up in the next few days. It was not really his fault, Jaimon told himself. He had done his best to avoid working on the day of their anniversary. However, one of the biggest clients of the agency whose account he handled, was planning a blitzkrieg of TV and newspaper advertisements to herald the launch of a new car. All the three Account Executives who were assigned to that client were working overtime. Some of the best creative people at the agency were assigned to work on the launch. In a few hours time, Jaimon had to go to the Marine Drive where a sixty second commercial was being shot by one of the most brilliant (though painful and irritating) directors Jaimon ever had the pleasure of working with. Why on earth did Lincy have to be so much high-maintenance? Jaimon asked himself. Especially since he had told her so very clearly before their wedding that he had long and disorganised working hours.

‘Do you want some toast?’ Jaimon asked Lincy. Lincy did not reply and continued to sulk. Jaimon went to the kitchen and popped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. He then opened the fridge and took out the jam and cheese spread. It was actually quite unfair to go to work on a Sunday which also happened to be his wedding anniversary. After finishing his toast, Jaimon dumped the plate in the sink and got dressed. He decided to give Lincy another chance. After all, it was their wedding anniversary. He went up to her as she sat with the baby on her lap. ‘Lincy, as soon as this launch gets over, we’ll go out and have a ball.’

‘After your precious launch gets over, you can go have a ball yourself,’ Lincy retorted. At least she broke her silence, Jaimon thought as he tried to find his watch. Why couldn’t Lincy understand that he was an Accounts Executive and he worked for one of the biggest advertising agencies in India?

‘Have you seen my watch?’ he asked Lincy.

‘Why can’t you keep your watch in the same place every night? What makes you think your wife is your servant?’

‘Come on, are you telling me that I treat you like a servant?’

‘MCPishness runs in your blood,’ Lincy declared.

‘Come on, come on. I am not an MCP,’ Jaimon said with a laugh. ‘In fact none of the men in my family are MCPs. Daddy was not an MCP.’

‘In that case, why can’t you get your mother to marry again? Why should she be a widow all her life?’

It took a few seconds for Lincy’s question to sink in. ‘Mind your business,’ Jaimon told her as he controlled the anger in his voice. ‘What makes you think Mummy wants to get married again?’ Nobody had ever suggested that his mother ought to remarry.

‘How do you know she doesn’t? Just because she is silent …’

‘Mind your business, just mind your business,’ Jaimon screamed without raising his voice too much. He slammed the door behind him and walked off to the station. Since it was a Sunday, he had the first class compartment all to himself. Once the train started moving, Jaimon called Julie from his mobile. Julie answered the phone promptly. Jaimon could hear his nephew and niece arguing about something in the background.

‘I just thought of something,’ Jaimon told Julie after the initial exchange of pleasantries.

‘Does a man who has to work on a Sunday have time to think?’

‘Listen, do you think Mummy would ever want to remarry? I mean, we’ve never asked her. Do you think we should ask her?’

There was stunned silence for a few seconds and then Julie said, ‘of course not. Never. Mummy would never want to remarry.’

Jaimon was relieved to note that Julie found the idea as unappealing as he did. There was no question of finding a replacement for Daddy. Which was not very surprising since Julie was his twin sister and they thought alike in so many respects.

‘Why did you think of something as ridiculous as this?’ Julie demanded heatedly after the initial shock and surprise.

Jaimon considered explaining that it was Lincy who had raised the point, but changed his mind. A man was not supposed to find fault with his wife in public, even if she was actually at fault.

‘It just occurred to me,’ Jaimon said lamely.

‘You’re lying. Did Lincy ask you this question?’ Julie had never vibed with Lincy who came from a totally different background. Lincy’s father was a colonel in the army and she had spent her entire childhood and youth in various parts of India. In the initial year of her marriage to Jaimon, she found it difficult to form a relationship with any of Jaimon’s relatives, especially with Julie who had lived in Kerala all her life. Lincy had issues even with Jaimon, despite the fact that he had done his undergraduate studies in Bangalore and his masters from MICA.

‘How does it matter? I’m glad you agree with me.’ Jaimon was quite relieved that he had found common cause with Julie.

‘Shall I ask mother?’ Julie wanted to know. Jaimon mulled it over for a few seconds and said, ‘it might upset her.’

‘May be it won’t.’

‘No, don’t ask her,’ he told Julie.

‘I won’t,’ Julie agreed and Jaimon knew that she was planning to ask their mother. He wondered how long Julie would take to go to Simhapara and ask their mother if she wanted to remarry. She wouldn’t do it over the phone. She would want to see the expression on their mother’s face when she asked something like this. Most probably Julie would catch a bus to Simhapara tomorrow after sending the kids off to school and her husband to his office.

Jaimon's instincts turned out to be right. Julie called him up Monday evening while he was in a cab, on his way back to office after attending a meeting.

‘Do you know what I did?’ Julie asked him.

‘Did you visit Mummy?’

‘I did. I just got back home.’

‘And you asked her?’

‘I did.’

‘And what did she say?’

‘She didn’t say No!’

Jaimon was shocked. He had been sure that their mother would be revolted by the very idea of marrying someone else. Their father might be dead, but their mother was still his father’s wife.

‘What did she say?’ he asked Julie.

‘She said she didn’t particularly want to get married once again, but she was worried she would have to live on her own and maybe become a burden to me and to you and..’

‘And what?’

‘She said maybe it was not such a bad idea.’

‘So, she didn’t say No.’

‘On the contrary, I got the feeling she was waiting to be asked.’

‘Don’t do anything, okay? Let’s think about it. Okay? Don’t panic.’

‘You’re the one panicking.’

‘I’m not.’ The cab passed under a bridge and the call was cut off. Jaimon plunked the mobile into his pocket and sank back into his seat.

Jaimon’s father had died five years ago after a sudden heart attack. Both he and Julie were devastated, though not to the extent their mother was. Two years before his father died, Julie had been married off to a journalist who worked for a newspaper in Kottayam. Jaimon had passed out of MICA a year earlier and started working in Mumbai. As a junior executive, Jaimon was expected to put in the hours and it was almost impossible for him to take any time off to visit his mother who was now on her own. It was left to Julie to visit their mother as often as possible and give her some company. Their extended family did their best to make things easy for their mother. Their mother’s elder sister, a nun, whom Jaimon and Julie called Sister Aunty, visited their mother as often as she could. Other than Sister Aunty and a brother who lived in the US, their mother did not have any other close relatives. His father’s younger brother and wife lived close by and they invited their mother to move into their house. Their mother had declined the offer. The house they lived in had too many memories for her. It took their mother a couple of years to pull herself together and get on with life. They owned almost twenty acres of land in and around Simhapara. The largest piece, which adjoined their house, was six acres. The rest of it was scattered in various places in Kottayam and Iddukki districts. Their mother soon got used to a lonely life. Taking care of the property took up all her time. Widow remarriage was not very common among Syrian Catholics and Jaimon and Julie and the rest of their relatives took it for granted that Achamma did not want to remarry. Not even their mother’s family mentioned it as a possibility.

Jaimon and Julie did not speak to each other till the next weekend came up.

‘Listen, if Mummy wants to get married, then we need to find someone for her to marry,’ Julie told Jaimon. It seemed as if Julie found the idea of a step father more palatable than Jaimon did.

‘Give me some time okay? I am busy with a launch and …’

‘You’ll always be busy with something. Once a decision has been taken, it’s just a question of implementing it.’

‘We haven’t decided anything,’ Jaimon objected.

‘Who are we to decide? Mummy has told us what she feels. It’s her life. Her decision.’

That night Jaimon told Lincy what had happened. ‘I knew it all along,’ she told him.

‘How did you know?’ Jaimon wanted to know.

‘I just knew.’ She wouldn’t say anything more. Most probably Lincy found it easy to look at their mother more objectively than they did, Jaimon thought.

Monday afternoon, Jaimon received an email from Julie. Does this sound right? The email asked him and there was an html link below that. Jaimon clicked on the link which took him to a matrimonial site where Julie had created an advert on behalf of their mother. Widow aged fifty three, looks younger, two adult children, looks for a suitable partner. The partner specifications were quite brief. Any one who was a Syrian Catholic and spoke Malayalam could apply. He could be of any height. Could be a vegetarian or a non-vegetarian. A drinker or a teetotaller. Of any age. Their mother’s potential partner could be a widower or a divorcee or might have never married.

Has this been activated? Jaimon emailed back.

Yes, but I can always modify it, Julie replied.

I think we don’t want a divorcee or someone shorter than Mummy.

Why not? Julie emailed back.

Listen, I have a lot of work to do. I will call you on my way home, Jaimon replied.

Jaimon changed his mind and decided not to call Julie while going home on the train. What they had to talk about was not something he wanted anyone else to overhear. Granted that they always talked in Malayalam, it was still possible that a fellow Malayalee sitting close by would have some fun at his expense. Or rather at his mother’s expense. It was almost ten by the time Jaimon got home. His dinner was on the table. Lincy had gone to bed with the baby. Jaimon dialled Julie’s home number and his brother-in-law picked up the phone.

‘How are things with you?’ Jaimon asked politely.

‘I’ll call Julie,’ his brother-in-law said before adding, ‘yeah, I’m fine. We’re all fine.’ Which meant Julie had discussed the issue with her husband.

As soon as Julie was on the phone, Jaimon asked her, ‘did you consult Mummy before posting that this online?’

‘No, but I am going to visit her tomorrow. I’ll explain to her what I’m doing.’

‘Do you know what sort of person we should be looking for?’

‘Someone who will take care of Mummy?’

‘Agreed. But what sort of person? Someone who has children from a previous marriage?’

‘Why not?’ Julie said slowly. The idea that they could end up with step-brothers or step-sisters was quite a novel one.

‘I still think we should rule out divorcees,’ Jaimon said. ‘Can you change that ad’s settings so that divorcees are ruled out?’

‘What if it is good divorcee? I mean, someone who got divorced for a valid reason?’

‘Even if it is good divorcee, I don’t think Mummy would want to live with someone who has a living ex-wife. Imagine, Mummy and our step-father run into our step-father’s ex-wife at the movie theatre!’

‘You have a point. But what’s the harm in receiving a response from a divorcee? We can always ignore any response we get from divorcees.

‘Have you got any response so far?’

‘None!’

‘Listen, speak to Mummy tomorrow and find out what exactly she has in mind. The little thief! Just to think that she wants to remarry!’

Jaimon ate his dinner quickly and slipped into bed beside Lincy. Lincy woke up and told him, ‘Were you on the phone? Did you speak to Julie?’

‘I’ll tell you tomorrow. Go to sleep now,’ he told her. His reply angered Lincy who turned over to the other side. Jaimon could not bring himself to forgive Lincy for having suspected that his mother might want to remarry.

The next day evening, Jaimon called up Julie on his way home. He was sandwiched between two corpulent men, neither of whom was a Malayalee. ‘Did you speak to mother?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘And what did she say?’

‘She doesn’t mind the internet ad.’

‘I mean, what sort of guy does she want?’ It felt ridiculous to ask such a question. Jaimon could remember his father asking Julie something similar when they were trying to find her a groom.

‘She says she doesn’t have any particular preferences. She doesn’t want a divorcee though.’

‘See, I told you.’

‘She says we ought to consult with all the elders in the family before doing anything more.’

The normally quiet first class compartment was filled with a loud noise as the train stopped at a station. Jaimon disconnected and then called Julie once more after the train left the noisy station behind.

‘She says we ought to consult with all the elders in the family before we do anything’ Julie repeated. It was a valid point and Jaimon had thought of it.

‘I’ll have to come there and talk to everyone.’

‘Yes, you should. Time you took a break from work as well.’ The launch was scheduled to take place in a week’s time. Once that was done, he was due some leave.
‘I can come there by the end of this month.’

‘Can you come for a fortnight?’

‘I doubt it. In any event, I won’t need a week to talk to everyone. And if there is a wedding or something, I will have to take more leave.’ The word ‘wedding’ did not slip of his tongue easily.

‘And you may have to be around to meet potential grooms.’

‘Yeah, we’ll have to vet them, won’t we? We know what’s best for Mummy!’ Julie giggled at Jaimon’s joke.

The man sitting opposite Jaimon showed some signs of amusement. Was he listening to what Jaimon was saying? The man wore a safari suit and looked like a government employee from Mantralaya. He was unlikely to be a Malayalee, but one never knew. ‘I’ll call you later. Okay.’ Jaimon hung up. The man opposite him continued to look amused, even after Jaimon put his phone away.

When he got home, he told Lincy, ‘We are going home by the end of this month. For a week.’ Lincy did not reply immediately, but he could sense that she was not so angry with him. Later that night, he made up with Lincy. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve been so grumpy of late,’ he told her.

‘I understand. You are under so much pressure.’

‘I’ll book the tickets sometime tomorrow.’

‘It will be raining when we get there.’ Which was true. The rains always set in, in the first week of June.

‘I don’t mind the rains, you know.’

‘I just hope the trains run properly.’ The rains were always welcome, but it was common for tracks to get flooded during the monsoon.

‘What does Mummy have to say?’ Lincy asked Jaimon. Jaimon recounted all that had happened so far. ‘I just find it difficult to believe that Mummy wanted to remarry and none of us guessed it.’

‘It is very difficult to explain. I think she has reached a stage where she feels she needs someone to look after her.’

‘Maybe if we lived with her, she wouldn’t have felt so.’

‘Yeah, you could join a leading advertising agency in Simhapara and take care of Mummy as well.’ Jaimon laughed at Lincy’s joke. Maybe he ought to have brought his mother to live with them at Mumbai. It was too late for that now.

‘If I were to die, would you remarry?’ Jaimon asked Lincy.

‘I don’t think so. I wouldn’t trust another man to look after my daughter.’

‘Come on, how can you say that?’

‘But it’s true.’

‘So by the same logic, if you were to die, I shouldn’t remarry either.’

‘No, you should. You will have to find some one you like, who is also willing to take care of our baby.’

‘So you won’t find someone who will take care of the baby, but I will?’

‘I won’t take the risk. Generally men are bad at taking care of somebody else’s children.’

‘So you would never remarry?’

‘I might, after our girl grows up.’

As Jaimon went to sleep, he thought that he would never understand women.

Two days later, he got an email from Julie saying, ‘not a single response so far.’

Jaimon was bemused. He called up Julie immediately. ‘Any idea why?’ he asked her.

‘I’ve looked at other profiles on that website. They’ve all put up photographs, written long descriptions and ..’

‘Do you think we should put up Mummy’s photo on the internet?’

‘Of course not.’ The idea was abhorrent to them both.

‘Some of the profiles on that site, the younger ones especially, have put up an album of photographs, in various poses and dresses.’ Jaimon was silent. He remembered being shown Lincy’s photographs by the broker who had arranged his marriage. There was one in which Lincy wore a saree, another in which she wore a pair of jeans and a third one in a churidhar. Had they done the same for Julie? No, but Julie’s wedding had been many years before his wedding and the practice of having a set of photographs had not yet evolved. However, they had spent a lot of effort in getting a very good photograph taken.

‘Shall I remove Mummy’s profile from that site? Julie asked him.

‘Yes. That’s the best thing to do for the moment. After I come there, we can make some other plans.’

As planned, Jaimon, Lincy and the baby went to Simhapara in the beginning of June. The rains had set in a few days earlier. The red earth of Simhapara took on a darker hue. The millions of rivulets that formed all over Simhapara poured into the river which was now a raging torrent. People carried their umbrellas everywhere. Men usually had black umbrellas while woman and children had umbrellas of various colours. Despite the fact that Jaimon could smell the wet red earth, he was not comfortable. Home wasn’t really a haven anymore. Soon, someone else would take his father’s place. Would he still want to visit Simhapara once that happened?

Jaimon thought his mother looked shy when she received them. He pretended to be happy with her decision. ‘You’re looking like a young bride,’ he told her. His mother must have felt that Jaimon wasn’t too happy with her decision. She accepted his compliment with a smile that did not reach her eyes. Julie was there to receive them when they arrived, though she left for Kottayam that very evening. The house was split into two camps. Jaimon and Julie formed a team, while their mother was on the other side. Lincy found a bond with her mother-in-law that hadn’t existed before. Very few words were exchanged between them, but they both knew that they were a team. Amidst all the chitchat and small talk, Jaimon found himself critically assessing his mother. She was still good looking. She was quite plump, having put on a fair amount of weight in the last few years. Half her hair was grey. Maybe she could dye it black, as she used to when their father was alive, Jaimon thought. Oh shut up! he told himself.

His father’s younger brother came straight to the point as soon as Jaimon told him everything. ‘Just make sure that you and Julie don’t lose the land.’

‘The land?’

‘Your twenty acres. You and Julie ought to inherit it. If your mother marries someone, there is a good chance that you may not get your land.’

‘Why do you say that Uncle?’

‘Imagine, if your mother were to marry a widower with a couple of sons and they all live in Kerala, then …’

‘Then what, Uncle?’

‘Then you and Julie can kiss your land goodbye. Listen, I am not saying that Achamma chechy should not remarry. There’s nothing wrong in that. But we need to make sure that her husband does not steal your land.’

‘How do we do that?’

‘We need to make sure that the man she marries is not someone who covets your land.’ Which still did not answer his question, but Jaimon didn’t pursue it any further.

None of their relatives had any serious objection to the idea being floated. Achamma’s relatives were quite happy that she was to remarry. By the time it was time for Jaimon and Lincy to leave, it was agreed that all the elders would look out for a groom, through word of mouth.

‘And if that doesn’t work, we’ll place an ad in the Deepika,’ Achamma’s elder sister told Jaimon. Rashtra Deepika is a Malayalam daily run by the Catholic Church in Kerala and most Catholic households in Kerala subscribe to it.

The day before their departure, Jaimon, Lincy and the baby went to Julie’s house at Kottayam and spent the night there. Julie’s husband was a silent and reserved man who made it a point to pretend to be busier than he actually was. After dinner he claimed that he had an hour’s work to do and disappeared into his study. But he was otherwise quite pleasant to Jaimon.

The next day morning after breakfast, Jaimon and his brother-in-law were in the drawing room by themselves for a brief while. ‘It’s a wise decision you are making. It’s best to get your mother married off while she is young. I mean, after she is older, when she needs someone to take care of her, if you try to find a groom for her at that stage …’ Jaimon wanted to punch his brother-in-law in his face. His brother-in-law realised that he was on the wrong track and coughed to cover his embarrassment. Jaimon maintained his smile while his brother-in-law searched for and found a cigarette, which he lit up.

‘I don’t know when I will be able to come back. But if there is an emergency, I will some how return,’ Jaimon told Julie when they were leaving.

A month later the first serious proposal came through. The proposed groom was a man who worked in Dubai. He was a single man who had never married. It was a marriage broker who brought forward the proposal. The groom-to-be was scheduled to visit Kerala in a month’s time. He was fifty seven years old. He was an accountant and worked for an auction house in Dubai. He had lived in Dubai for over thirty years and he was planning to come back to Kerala for good, get married and settle down with his wife.

‘I’ll somehow have to get leave,’ Jaimon told Lincy. But he ran into trouble at his office. He had just taken a week off just a month ago and his boss was unwilling to let him take another week off. ‘Unless you really think you need to take leave,’ his boss added. Since the next round of promotions and pay hikes was only a month away, Jaimon did not press his case and decided to catch a flight for a weekend trip. If only he could explain why he wanted to go home, things would be easier. But Jaimon had decided that none of his friends should know of his mother’s wedding plans.

‘Please make sure he turns up on a Saturday evening,’ Jaimon begged Julie.

On the appointed day, Jaimon left for Santacruz to catch an early morning flight to Kochi. The flight was delayed by a couple of hours and the taxi ride from Nedumbassery airport to Simhapara took much longer than the usual three hours due to a few bad traffic jams on the way. Jaimon finally reached Simhapara at four thirty in the evening. The groom-to-be was scheduled to arrive at five. His mother was dressed in a simple aqua blue chiffon saree and looked very elegant. There was very little trace of a grieving widow, Jaimon thought. Or maybe he was being too harsh on his mother. She was definitely looking unsettled and apprehensive, without any of the happy anticipation of a young bride. Julie and Sister Aunty had made a tactical decision to not to dye her hair.

Jaimon hugged his mother without saying a word. Was it just his imagination or did his mother hug him for an extra second? Julie’s husband was also there with their children and Julie looked quite apprehensive. In fact, she looked a lot more nervous than their mother. Sister Aunty was also around. His father’s brother was notable by his absence.

‘Do you want to shower and change?’ Julie asked Jaimon.

‘No, I don’t have the time. It’s four thirty already.’

All of them except Julie’s husband were nervous as if they were waiting for the results of a school exam. Even Julie’s children sat in their seats quietly without making their usual racket.

‘How are things in Bombay?’ Julie’s husband asked Jaimon. It was a question meant to kill time and Jaimon merely grunted. Julie got up and switched on the TV. Her husband picked up the remote control and started to flip through the channels. He did it at a steady rate, a new channel every five seconds or so.

‘Have you decided on things?’ Sister Aunty asked Jaimon.

‘What things?’

‘Property.’ Despite being a nun, she was quite wise to the ways of the world. ‘Does you mother get any property?’

‘She is entitled to a third of what Daddy left behind,’ Jaimon told his aunt.

‘We should make it clear that the land will only be in her name. It is not a dowry to be transferred to the groom.’ Julie’s husband added. It slowly sunk into Jaimon that there could be men wanting to marry his mother solely for her dowry. How did he behave when he got married? No, they had not negotiated hard for a dowry. In fact, they had accepted what Lincy’s family offered them. He had got ten lakhs, which was more or less the market rate for a Syrian Catholic groom in his position. In addition, Lincy had been given gold ornaments worth three lakhs. Julie too had been married off without much acrimony over dowry. She had been paid – how much was it – six lakhs or so and gold ornaments worth another two lakhs? That was seven years ago. Would his mother’s wedding be the first instance of a dowry dispute in his family?

‘If ever we get the impression that they are greedy for money, we will call it off,’ Jaimon declared.

‘Relax Aliya,’ his brother-in-law patted him on the back. ‘It’ll all work out.’ Jaimon grunted once more.

‘I’ve been praying everyday ever since we all decided that Achamma should remarry. It’ll all work out fine,’ Sister Aunty said soothingly.

The groom-to-be arrived promptly at five accompanied by the marriage broker. Jaimon was quite relieved to note that though he was not very tall and was balding, he looked quite respectable. The sort of man whom he could introduce to his friends as his step-father. Jaimon found himself liking the chap.

‘I’m called Sonny at home. But my real name is Jacob George.’ They introduced themselves to Sonny. Jaimon wasn’t sure how to address Sonny. His brother-in-law seemed to read his thoughts. ‘We’ll call you Uncle. It’s a bit too early to call you Daddy,’ Jaimon’s brother-in-law told Sonny on behalf of them all.

‘What should they call me?’ Sonny demanded looking at Julie’s children.

‘They will call you veliya-uncle. And if things work out, they can switch to veliya-appachan.’

Sonny did not have the arrogance which many Gulfies did, despite the fact that he had been there for over thirty years. ‘I didn’t want to get married and wasn’t planning to. But my parents have been pestering me for too long to get married and I’ve also realised that …. that being single is not such a great idea.’

‘What are your hobbies?’ Sonny asked Achamma shyly. Achamma blushed. Jaimon felt irritated for a few seconds and then relaxed. ‘……..cooking, watching TV............’

‘So you can knit, can you? I’ve never known anybody who could do that. I thought only people in western countries knitted.’

What other hobbies did his mother list out while he was feeling irritated? So his mother would soon be cooking for this man or someone else like him. Jaimon found that he did not find the idea unbearable. Why not? He was going to be struck in Mumbai for a while. Julie was married off to a good man. Why shouldn’t their mother find some companionship?

Sonny had a thick silver moustache which sort of compensated for the lack of hair on his head. The sun glistened off his bald plate as he explained the sort of work he did at the auction house in Dubai.

‘Jaimon’s father left behind twenty acres of land. Achamma will be getting one-third of that.’ Sister Aunty informed Sonny.

‘That’s okay Sister,’ Sonny very politely told Sister Aunty. 'Property is not an issue for me. I have made enough money in Dubai.’ They all breathed a sigh of relief. It was not unheard of for filthy rich people to demand a lot of dowry.

After that things went wrong. ‘So, how do you like the idea of living in Dubai?’ Sonny asked Achamma to their consternation.

‘But Uncle, we thought you’re coming back to Kerala for good?’ Jaimon said.

‘Oh no! Did they say that? Is that what you’ve told them? Sonny turned to the broker.

‘That’s what your folks told me initially,’ the broker told Sonny. He then turned to Jaimon and said, ‘it was only today morning on our way here that I got to know of Sonny-chayan’s new plans.’

‘But these are not new plans! I’ve always said I want to work in Dubai till my retirement. At my firm, the retirement age is sixty two. That’s another five years away. I mean, my mother does want me to come back for good immediately, but that’s not something I’ve ever agreed to.’

‘What does it matter?’ the broker turned to them. ‘Dubai is not like Saudi Arabia. Women can live there with a reasonabe degree of freedom. Sonny-chayan is willing to take his wife with him. So, there’s no problem at all.’

‘We’ll have to think about it,’ Julie spoke solemnly. ‘I am not sure Mummy can live overseas. She has never travelled outside Kerala in her whole life.’

‘Think it over by all means,’ Sonny told them. ‘Dubai is a very decent place to live in.’

‘Why don’t we adjourn to the dining room for some tea,’ Jaimon’s aunt declared and changed the topic.

That night after they had had dinner, Jaimon’s uncle and aunt arrived. ‘How did it go?’ he asked them

‘The boy is okay. A decent chap. But he wants to work in Dubai for another five years before he comes back and settles down.’

‘And will he visit his wife once a year? Why should our Achamma chechy at her age marry a man whom she will see once a year?’

‘No, he wants to take her to Dubai, with him.’

‘Oh my God! Was that man serious? How can Achamma chechy go and live in Dubai?’

‘And what about property? Did you spell it all out?’

‘I did Uncle. I told them that Mummy is entitled to one third of what Daddy has left behind.’

‘And did you tell them that the property will have to revert to you and Julie after your Mummy’s demise?’

‘No, I did not tell them that.’

‘You ought to have done that. What if your step-father survives your mother? The property will pass to him. After that he can will it to whomever he wants. You ought to think of all these things. Didn’t we discuss all this?’

‘I don’t think we discussed the second bit. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t see this working out. I can’t even imagine Mummy going off to live in Dubai with a stranger.’

Both sides struck to their guns and the proposal came to nothing. Jaimon and Julie were adamant that their mother would not be packed off to Dubai, while Sonny was definite that he would not pack up from Dubai for another five years.

Jaimon’s aunt was so incensed by what she termed Sonny’s double speak that she immediately placed an advert in the Rashtra Deepika. Within a week of the advert appearing, they got three responses. One of them was clearly unsuitable for Achamma – the groom-to-be had had an accident a few years ago which killed his wife and crippled him for life. He was now looking for a wife with whom he could swap a few jokes and who would take care of him for the rest of his life. ‘We didn’t even bother to reply suggesting they hire a nurse,’ Julie told Jaimon over the phone in suppressed anger. ‘To think that Mummy would marry someone like that.’ The other two were possibilities. One came from a wealthy landlord who lived nearby at a place called Changanacherry. His wife had died many years ago and he had three children, the youngest of whom was only twelve. The other was from a man who owned a restaurant in Kochi. Both the candidates were to ‘see’ Achamma in two weeks’ time. Jaimon managed to get a week’s leave and booked his ticket to Kottayam. While Jaimon was away, Lincy and the baby were to travel to Pune where Lincy’s parents lived.

Disaster struck Jaimon a week before he was scheduled to go on leave. The car manufacturer, one of the most important clients of his agency, threatened to move to another agency. The launch of the new car had not apparently gone off too well. A damage control exercise was launched and Jaimon’s leave was cancelled.

‘But I do need to go,’ Jaimon pleaded with his boss.

‘Our necks are on the line. Both of us. Do you want to come back from your holiday and have to look for a job?’ his boss told him curtly. Since he had told everyone that his wife would be going to Pune while he visited his mother and sister, he could not even plead a family emergency.

‘You won’t believe it. I just can’t make it,’ he told Julie over the phone.

For once Julie was calm. ‘That’s okay,’ she told him. ‘Don’t worry too much. We’ll handle things at our end. You don’t have to be around every time someone comes to meet Mummy.’

Lincy decided to cancel her visit to Pune and go to Simhapara instead. Jaimon was quite grateful. ‘You’ll be my representative over there,’ he told Lincy as he pinched his daughter’s cheeks.

‘If this doesn’t work out, I think we should place an internet ad,’ Lincy told Jaimon.

‘Lincy, please try to understand. I may be an advertising executive, but I cannot market my mother. She isn’t a bloody car!’

‘What’s wrong in placing an advert with a few photographs?’

‘Lincy, you have never lived in Kerala. You just do not understand Simhapara. All it needs is for one person from Simhapara to notice those photographs on the internet. Within a few days, everyone will know about it. And once it becomes well-known, we’ll have people asking us about it.’

‘Okay. I’m just trying to understand this. Don’t people at Simhapara already know that we are looking for a husband for Mummy?’

‘Yes, everyone knows that.’

‘So, what’s the difference if people know that we have placed an advert on the internet, with a few photographs?’

‘It’s just not the same. It’s not the done thing.’

‘If Julie were getting married, would you mind placing an internet ad with photographs?’

‘No, I would not mind. But then, that’s different. Just drop it, will you?’

‘I was only trying to understand….’

‘Please drop it Lincy!’

Julie met Lincy and the baby at the Kottayam railway station and took them to Simhapara. Jaimon was on the phone to Lincy and Julie a couple of times a day during the run-up to the important week-end. One of the grooms-to-be was scheduled to arrive Saturday evening and the other one Sunday morning.

Saturday evening, the restaurant owner arrived to meet Achamma. He was almost an hour late when he arrived in a jeep, accompanied by his brother who drove the vehicle.

‘Chettan is a very nice man, the brother explained. However, after chechy died, he started drinking a bit. No, no, please don’t misunderstand. Chettan never used to drink before that. It’s only now that he has got into this habit. We know that once he is married to someone nice, he will not want to drink.’ After that explanation neither Lincy nor Julie felt the need to probe for more information about the groom. After around fifteen minutes of small talk, Sister Aunty politely terminated the meeting. ‘We’ll get back to you in a short while, she told them and sent them away.

‘What an excuse to start drinking!’ Sister Aunty said after the two men had left.

Jaimon’s brother-in-law put things in the right perspective by saying ‘we ought to be grateful to them for being frank and telling us that the man has a drinking problem. Some people might have kept quiet about it.’

Lincy called up Jaimon who was in a meeting. ‘Can’t talk. You talk,’ he muttered into the phone.

‘They arrived and left. The man has a drinking problem. His brother says it started only after his wife died. Sister Aunty sent them off saying we’ll get back to them.’

‘Will call later,’ Jaimon muttered and hung up.

That night Jaimon called up and had a long chat with both Julie and Lincy. There was not much to do, other than hope the next candidate would turn out to be better. Achamma took the incident quite calmly. After Julie and Lincy spoke to Jaimon, they handed over the phone to Achamma.

‘How are you Mummy?’ Jaimon asked her.

‘I’m fine. Julie and Lincy have told you everything. There’s nothing more for me to add.’

‘Don’t get upset. Okay?’

‘Why on earth should I be upset?’ Achamma responded. ‘Did you have dinner?’

‘Not yet Mummy. I just got home. I’m going to eat something now.’

‘Is there any food in the fridge?’

‘Yes, there is. There is some Sambhar left in the fridge. And I am making some rice.’

‘Why on earth did you have to work so hard? Will you be working tomorrow as well?’

‘Yes Mummy. A few meetings. Can you please give Julie the phone?’

‘Hello!’

‘Hello! All set for tomorrow morning?’

‘They are expected to reach here at 11:30.’

‘Will you be going to Church in the morning?’

‘No, we will be going in the evening. It’s too much to go in the morning, get back by ten thirty and then prepare to receive them. Wait!’ Sister Aunty was tugging at her arm. ‘Sister Aunty says she will be going to Church in the morning for the six thirty mass. And she is going to take Mummy with her.’

The new candidate arrived a few minutes early, unaccompanied by anyone. He parked his Maruti Esteem carefully and walked into the house without a hint of hesitation or shyness. He was quite tall, pleasant faced and carried his weight quite well. If it had not been for the fact that his hair was entirely grey, he could have passed for a forty year old. They all felt tongue-tied in front of him, even Sister Aunty. Since the groom-to-be was the oldest person around, he got down to the task at hand.

‘Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?’ he asked Achamma. Achamma was flustered by the question and did not respond quickly enough. Sister Aunty stepped in to answer the question.

‘Achamma’s husband died five years ago. She has two children, both of whom are well settled. That’s Julie, Achamma’s daughter. Her husband. And children. Jaimon is in Bombay. He couldn’t get leave. He works for … where does he work Lincy?’

Lincy supplied the necessary information and responded to the follow-up questions regarding Jaimon’s advertising agency. The meeting was not much different from the one with Sonny. The groom-to-be stayed for an hour and left. As soon as he drove off in his car, Jaimon’s uncle arrived.

‘Did you tell them about the property?’

‘Yes, we did. This time we even told them what you said last time. That after Achamma’s time, the property should revert to her children.’

‘We need to be careful with this man. He has got three children.’

‘They have a lot more land than we do. Why on earth would they want our land?’ Lincy was tempted to say that if Achamma was entitled to one-third of her husband’s property, then she ought to have the right to dispose of it whatever way she wanted. Please let my mother-in-law make her own choices, she wanted to tell everyone. But what was the point? Even if she stood up for Achamma, she would not win. Most probably even Achamma did not think she had the right to will her property to anyone she wanted.

Two days later, they got a phone call from the brother of the groom-to-be. Lincy and Achamma were alone in the house. Sister Aunty had gone back to her convent and Julie was at Kottayam. ‘I would like to speak to the Karnavar of your family,’ he told Lincy who answered the phone.

‘There is no Karnavar here.’ How stupid could the man be? Lincy thought. The Karnavar of this house is dead. Which is why we are looking for a groom, she wanted to tell the caller. ‘Can you please let me what you’ve decided?’

‘No, no. This is something I need to discuss with someone who understands these things.’ Lincy was forced to give Jaimon’s uncle’s phone number. Half an hour later, Jaimon’s uncle stormed into the house.

‘I thought you had explained everything to them,’ he told Lincy accusingly.

‘What’s the matter now?’

‘They want Achamma’s share of the property to be given as a dowry. They even suggested that the land be transferred to the groom at the time of the marriage.’

‘So what did you tell them?’

‘I spent some time trying to explain things, but finally I had to ask the man to get lost.’

‘But uncle are you being fair? If Mummy is entitled to six acres of land, shouldn’t that be given to her?’

‘We are giving it to her. But it must come back into the family after her lifetime.’

Why should we insist that the land should revert to us? Isn’t it our practice to give the woman’s share in the family property as a dowry at the time of her wedding? Can’t we tell them that the land will be in Mummy’s name and she can will it to whoever she wants?’

‘What if she likes her new husband’s children and wills some land to them?’

‘Isn’t that up to her?’

‘You don’t understand. You’ve never lived in Kerala.’

‘When I got married, my father gave my share in his property as a dowry to my husband. And didn’t Daddy do the same for Julie? Why can’t we do that for Mummy?’

‘We can’t give a dowry for Achamma chechy. If her family wants to give her a dowry, they can do so.’

‘Anyway, I’ve told them it’s off. We’ll have to look for another groom.

Jaimon’s uncle left in a huff saying, ‘if you don’t understand these things, please ask your elders for advice.’

Achamma had listened to the entire exchange in silence. After her brother-in-law had left, she burst into tears and told Lincy, ‘I was willing to go and live in Dubai!’

Six months later when Sonny came on leave, he and Achamma got married in a simple ceremony at Simhapara. Achamma wore a plain silk saree and Sonny looked resplendent in his three piece black suit, even though he was sweating profusely. As they followed the bride and the groom out of the church, Jaimon told Lincy, ‘Maybe I should also grow a moustache like my Daddy.’