The smell of rotis.......

When was it that I ate a chappathi for the first time? I think it was in 1962. Wheat came to Kerala during those days. May be people knew about it, but the scarcity of rice due to India-China war was the reason for us Malayalees to introduce a new dish made of wheat to our kitchen. Though Chappathi is said to be of Dravidian origin, it was less known to South Indians especially the Malayalis of Kerala.

Rice was our staple food in the old days. When I was very young, I ate many varieties of food made with rice. Our family, as well as most of the families at that time had their own Paddy fields. Most of the houses had underground wooden airtight chambers [Pathayam in the Nilavara] where paddy was stored. When we needed rice, paddy was boiled in huge copper vessels [chembu] and dried in the sun. When it was properly dried, it was pounded at home, husk was removed and cleaned. Everything was done at home. Wheat was something unknown to us.

I think it was in 1962 after the India-China war, we came to know about Chappathi made of wheat flour. My father was working in Bihar before that and my mother might have seen people making rotis there.

Anyway during or after the war, food grains were too costly or even unavailable. Our family’s paddy fields might have been sold by that time. Somehow we children too knew that food was very costly. I think we had to buy rice, wheat or sugar only through ration shops as they were by then rare commodities and not available in open market.

One day father brought the wheat allotted to our 7 member family. We curiously watched mother washing the whole wheat in water, removing the dirt and stones, and drying it in the sun. Then the servant took it to the mill and brought the wheat flour.

As mother had watched the Bihari women making the dough, she had an idea how to knead the flour into chappathi dough. Somehow she succeeded and then the herculean task of rolling them started. All the dough was made into small balls and rolled into shapeless chappathis and spread on the newspaper kept on the floor. The iron tawa was kept on firewood and each chappathi was made pouring a lot of ghee on it. The first attempt was not so successful though mother became an expert in chappathi making, in no time.

We all started loving chappathis. Potato stew was served with it to elders while the younger ones ate it soaked in milk and sugar. For a long time we believed chappathis are eaten only with potato stew….May be no one knew how people of Northern India ate the chappathis.

My parents had travelled out of Kerala, to Bihar, Calcutta, Bombay and Madras. So mother learned to prepare many different foods. As days passed, mother made chappathis for dinner everyday. Sometimes she made non-veg dishes too. We all loved chappathis more than any rice preparation. But the process of making wheat grains into flour was very tedious. Gradually we learnt to make those rotis, chappathis, puris and parottas.

Now during the past few decades, I have made an infinite number of chappathis, in many forms as breakfast, lunch or dinner. I try many different side dishes, but today after a long time we had breakfast of chappathi and potato stew. That reminded me……………..

Paru amma

Paruamma was our servant ever since I can remember. I think she might have been Ammoomma’s best friend….they were always fighting.. The only person with whom ammoomma could shout and show her frustrations was Paruamma. There was a whole lot of responsibilities on ammoomma’s shoulder. I have seen men helpers also in the house, but Paruamma was the only one who was allowed all over the house. Only Paruamma other than the family members were allowed to enter the kitchen.

Though kitchen was not the cleanest place of the house, untouchability was strictly observed. Men servants could draw water from the well from outside the kitchen while women could do it from a place called ‘kotta thalam” adjacent to the kitchen.

Paruamma used to sleep on a mat on the floor outside the kitchen. Ammoomma would get up very early, before the first rays of the sun appear, slowly get out of the thalam without making any sound. She would make sure that all the women and children sleeping on the floor in a line are covered properly and step into the verandah followed by me. Every day she would ask me not to get up so early, but I somehow wanted to be with her always.

Then she would look at the picture of God on the wall, utter a prayer and walk towards the kitchen. Only when she repeats the same words everyday Paru amma would wake up. Ammoomma would say, “Paru it’s already afternoon, get up…”Her day starts grumbling. Ammoomma would enter the kitchen taking care not to touch her. I too would follow and sit on the wooden box [Aripetti] used to store rice. The bulb in the kitchen gave a dull yellow light and nothing was clearly seen.

I knew what was to happen next. There was a wooden box with a sliding lid where salt was stored. Ammoomma’s next task is to shoo away the cockroaches from the box. She would never kill a cockroach, or even an ant or spider. Every morning she would shout at Paruamma for not closing the box. I could hear Paruamma answering back in illegible words as she would be cleaning her teeth with ‘umikkari’ [the burnt residue of rice husk].

Paruamma would then draw water from the well, pour some on herself, change clothes and enter the kitchen. By that time Ammoomma would have started lighting the firewood for the day’s cooking. She would keep her hands on the fire and worship fire for a second. Ammoomma goes out of the kitchen and Paruamma enters. I don’t think she did any cooking, she only helped. Cooking was easy as the menu was almost the same everyday.

Paruamma and Ammoomma shouted at each other throughout the day. They never exchanged anything in normal tone. But both of them were very good to all other members. Gowrivalliamma used to say Janaki & Paru are ‘munnal’ [one having birth nakshatra the third from the other one] that is why they disliked each other.

But now when I think of those days, Paruamma & ammoomma had a fondness for each other. They were very much dependent on each other. This was obvious on the days Paruamma went to her home. She was very poor and her large family lived on what they got from this house. She would be given a large basket of rice and coconuts and other things to take home. One of her sons would come to carry it. I think Ammoomma did this secretly without the permission of the elder men of the house. Ammoomma was very lavish in helping her though both of them would not admit that. It was a strange relationship. Ammoomma knew she couldn’t go on without Paru’s help and Paru knew her family would starve without ammoomma’s help.

She used to call all children in the family ‘kunnje’ meaning baby…. She would give me a bath some times shampooing my hair with ‘chembarathi thali’. She would pluck fresh hibiscus leaves mash them on the washing stone with her hands and make a thick green extract and clean my hair.

Paruamma and ammoomma, both helped Gowrivalliamma as she couldn’t see properly. I used to watch while they helped her with the bath. If someone gave birth to a child, then Paruamma as well as ammoomma had no rest atall.

Paruamma was short and stout and might have been ammoomma’s age. I think she left the house before partition. Her children might have grown up and started earning by then. It has been several decades now, all in her generation and the next too have left the world.

Ammoomma, Me and Kathakali

I was just 6 or 7 years old when I went to see Kathakali for the first time…. My grandma, ammoomma was always expressing her desire to go to Thirunnakkara Mahadevar temple during the Utsavam to watch Kathakali. But I don’t know whether anyone volunteered to take her and stay with her till morning , as the Kathakali performance would end only as the first rays of sun appear.

One day Ammoomma’s youngest son Aniyammavan told her, “Today I’ll take you to see Kathakali, so get ready by evening. She was very happy and finished off all her work. She instructed Paruamma, the servant on getting ready the dinner for all members and even serving it. Paruamma was in her usual self, grumbling and complaining.. Paruamma was always unhappy. She never smiled. Throughout the day she would be working..in the kitchen, or outside the house and she even had to look after the cows.

Paruamma asked Ammoomma, “Will you take me to see kathakali?” Ammoomma got angry, “Ok, then you go and I’ll stay here.” The disappointed Paruamma went off grumbling.. All this time I was wondering, what this Kathakali is…..I waited for ammoomma to be in good mood to ask her to take me with her. But I didn’t have to ask. She was always kind and good to me. She never got angry with me. She would take me everywhere she went.

During the afternoon she told me the story of Keechaka vadham briefly. I don’t think I listened to the story, in my excitement of going out. Aniyammavan came home early and Ammoomma asked him to get permission from the karanavar Gopalachettan for going out. He was always present at the poomukham, lying on his easy chair. In those days everyone had a fear for the elders, may be out of respect. Without their consent, no one dared to go out.

Ammoomma got ready in her best clothes. Her dress was the same….without any color. She wore a white mundu, rowka [blouse] stitched with her own hands and a neriyathu. Everything was white. She had her clothes dhobi washed and ironed which were kept in a wooden box. She would keep the empty wrappers of incense sticks, camphor or even chempaka flowers in the box. So her dresses smelled very pleasant.

I too was dressed in my best frock. In those days people spent very little on clothes. As the number of clothes was less, we didn’t have much choice but to wear the same few everywhere. Seeing me too ready, Aniyammavan told Ammooomma why you are taking this silly girl, when she hear the sound of Keechaka she will die of fear. She may even sleep and fall down from the chair, little knowing what was going to happen. Ammoomma didn’t listen to him but took my hands and we walked to the venue. I remember it was a small hall with a low stage, and there were very few people, seated on chairs. Someone took us to the front row and we were seated there next to the stage. I was sitting at the centre of the row, next to ammoomma.

Soon the huge kalivilakku was lit, and music started with chenda and maddalam and edakka. I watched in amusement. Two people were standing holding a curtain, and it took a long time to move it and the first vesham [performer] appear. It was keechakan and Draupati. Keechakan was trying to seduce Draupati and she was trying to escape. Sometimes I felt they would fall on me. The Kathakali dress and their facial expressions frightened me. I was feeling sleepy too. I sat clinging to grandma and tried to keep my sleepy eyes open. I wanted to go home.

I might have fell asleep and dreamt of Bheema killing me instead of Keechaka that I woke up with a loud cry and fell down from the chair. All eyes turned to me, even that of Keechaka, Bheema and Draupati. And I think I saw a smile on the ferocious face of Keechaka, though he was half killed by Bheema. Thus the Keechakavadham Kathakali ended.

On our way back, Aniyammavan was teasing all the way, while Ammoomma expressed her disappointment that she couldn’t enjoy the performance because of me..then she added, “Even if I leave her at home, how could I have enjoyed?” I don’t think poor Ammoomma might have got another chance to see a Kathakali. And I never remembered to ask and fulfill her wish. Such incidents have great impact on our life that a smell or song or a sight can trigger the memories even after 50 or more years..

The interesting thing that I realize now is that I too never went for a Kathakali after that….

The charming Mrs K P S Menon and chembaka poo….

I was just four or five years old. Valiammavan, the karanavar of the family told me we are having an important guest today, be a good girl and don’t go near the guests. I found grandma too busy that day.

Gopala Pillai our valiammavan was the karanavar from the earliest days of my memory till the joint family split and the property was partitioned among the members. It was when I grew older that I came to know more about him. He was a lawyer who never practiced. While he was a student in Madras Christian College, Mr. K P S Menon was his room mate and friend. This is mentioned in K P S Menon’s autobiography. He had great respect for Gopalachettan who was senior to him. But he didn’t appreciate Gopalachettan’s laziness and idle nature which is mentioned in the chapter ‘Madras’ in his autobiography.

A copy of all his books were sent to valiammavan with his signature.

Mr KPS Menon was serving as an Ambassador of India to Russia when he came to meet his old friend Gopalachettan. Valiammavan and his brother Pappachettan [everyone called him so] reigned the Poomukham and Padippura part of the house. There were chairs and easy chairs, tables and shelves full of books and cot and bed for their separate rooms. There was an attached bathroom too. The place was thoroughly cleaned on that day.

Valiammavan usually had only a small mundu as dress. On this day he wore a neat white shirt and new mundu. He had many white shirts in soft muslin fabric which he wore only on such occasions. Pappachettan was a Gandhian who wore only khadi. He too got ready to receive the reputed guests.

My grandma was the one who never had any rest. She too changed her dress. She was the symbol of purity. Her white dress, fair complexion, silver grey hair and ever smiling face had a charm of its own. She changed my frock and combed my hair.

Along with the hot vadas, chips and murukku, biscuits and cakes were bought from the bakery as per ammavan’s instructions.

There were no chairs or other furniture in the part of the house where women and children stayed. There were totally 4 or 5 cots in different rooms. The main hall which we called “thalam” was the one we all used. Gowri valliamma who had lost her eye sight was always present in one corner in the thalam. One of the wooden cot was for her. Another one was moved to the centre of the hall and wiped and cleaned.

Mrs Menon if she wished to meet the ladies of the house was to be seated there.

Before evening, Mr and Mrs Menon arrived and they were received and seated at Pappachettan’s room.

After a few minutes Mrs Menon got up and moved towards the hall. All women rushed to receive her. As she reached grandma, she kept a handful of something in grandma’s hands. Even though I was asked to keep away my curiosity made me peep into the hall. Mrs Menon noticed me and asked me to come and sit beside her. Then she took a flower from the handful of Chembaka flowers she had given to grandma and kept it on my hair.

All the time she talked to the ladies of the house, I admired her beauty. She was a charming lady. The chembaka poo still reminds me of her. She had one or two flowers on her hair. She had the complexion and fragrance of chembaka poo. She wore a soft silk saree in the color of a chembaka poo. She was the most gracious lady I met in my childhood, more than 50 years back.

My mother said Mrs Menon always had a chembaka flower on her hair. Coffee was prepared with great care and everything was served separately to both. When it was time to leave, Mr. Menon came outside the hall to talk to grandma. After they left, grandma kept the chembaka flowers in the wooden box where she used to keep her clothes. The fragrance of the flower always brings me back the memories of meeting a charming lady.

I’m not sure whether what I said is accurate but this is an episode of my childhood memory when the charming lady impressed me a lot. Even after so many years the mention of chembaka poo reminds me of Mrs KPS Menon…..

My life as a student……

School was the most dreaded place for me..I think I started my school in Cotton Hill school Trivandrum..I have no memories of those days.

The one I remember well is 4^th standard of Baker Memorial school in Kottayam. I think that was the class when I started learning English. The class teacher Sosamma Kochamma taught us English and I admired her for her beauty and her neat dress. She used to wear cotton sarees neatly starched and ironed. Another thing I can still remember is her smell. She had the smell of bread and milk….

Sosamma Kochamma would walk in between the benches and when she reach near me, I would inhale all the smell I could hold..

All my admiration turned into an aversion with a single incident.

We progressed in learning English, from alphabets to words. Then the day came when she gave us a surprise dictation. It is true that I couldn’t write even a word she dictated. Nothing entered my head. When she came near my bench with that stick beating on the desks, I got frightened and started scribbling something with a bent head.

She asked me to stand up and to my utter dismay she declared that I was copying the dictation from the girl who sat near me. She snatched my notebook and sent me out of the class. If she had looked into the book she would know that she was wrong. I was the worst student but I was honest. Getting zeros in Maths and English didn’t bother me as much as that. This incident disheartened me so much that it was another excuse I made to myself for not showing any interest in studies. Thus the image of Sosamma Kochamma shattered inside me and I lost all enthusiasm in going to school.