“through the act of living, the discovery of oneself is made concurrently with the discovery of the world around us. . ."

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Grandma




My mother’s mother was G Kalyani Amma. Born in 1889 (the same year as Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru), Ammoomma ( Malayalam for grandmother) was a doctor; one of the earliest lady doctors in government service. Here is her certificate, a family treasure.


She passed away in 1973, at 84. I understand she was a good doctor, one of those we call – ‘kaipunyam-olla doktar’, which means she had the healing touch. She must have retired from service in the ‘40s. But instead of taking up private practice, she retired to a little house and acres of paddy fields at Mavelikkara where she was practicing at the time of retirement.

One of the clearest images of my grandma in my mind is that of her squatting down on the front yard where the paddy seeds left after thrashing and storing in the ‘Pathayam’ ( large wooden granary) would be lying scattered. She would slowly and diligently pick each seed and drop it into a basket. The sadly amusing truth was that all the while baskets-full of paddy would be being filched from the Pathayam by our own ‘Karyasthan’ ( major domo) and taken to his house! A classical ‘penny wise pound foolish’ thing!

She was the Palace Doctor for a while in Trivandrum. When she was working at the Govt Women & Children’s Hospital, she built a house, a big two-storeyed villa near the Sankhu-mughom beach. Sanghu-mukhom (Conch face) is THE beach of Trivandrum City. I remember it as one of the prettiest, cleanest beaches I have ever seen. Times have changed, though. The house was one of the biggest houses in that area. She gave it to my mother’s younger sister long ago; she sold it off – again, long ago! I remember my mom saying that they had an Austin car in which the lady doctor rode to work. The house I stay was built in the Thirties, and the legend goes that the roofing planks were from the boxes in which medicines came! Mom said that Grandma built this house as a temporary one, close to her Hospital.

The way I remember her, Grandma had only one tooth left in her mouth. She was graceful; she had beautiful eyes and delicate hands. She always wore white Mundum Neryatum, the classical Malayali dress. I was about 16 when she passed away after a brief illness when she had a stroke and lay immobile in bed. As was the custom in those days, a professional Ramayanam reader would come every day, and chant out the verses of Ramayan. Grandma would lie open eye-d and when we went near her, her eyes would move in our direction and would fill up with tears. She couldn’t speak.

There wasn’t much love lost between us. She wasn’t the stereotype grandma who told stories and cuddled you. She had her favourites among the grandchildren and I don't think I was one. The fact is, I don’t have many memories of her, except that when I went to Mavelikkara, I used to pound her betel leaf and areca nut in a granite pounder. After giving it to her, I would scrape out the remains for myself.


In the liberation offered by a digital camera fixed on a tripod, I have begun to make digital copies of the family albums. Old black and white photos – dimmed, yet in startlingly good condition, colour photos since ‘80s, fraying and discoloured. Photos from 1901. My father ( 1919-1971) as a kid, as a handsome young man,





my mom a teenager,

and I. The baby Balan looks up, probably at its mother or sisters and laughs. A photographer (would he be alive now?) clicks – and there I am, one baby, among the trillions that were born and yet to be born.

Outside my window, I hear the wind fluttering the leaves of the old Rose Apple tree. There were two; now only one. Maybe I will have to sell off my old ancestral house in the heart of the city and move on to some woods, while P would prefer settling near her siblings in Cochin. I dislike cities, especially Cochin with its swarms of mosquitoes and pretensions of a Metro. P may not come with me to Attappadi or my dream cottage deep inside a cool forest where a little stream would lap by and birds would hop on the verandah and in the night I would listen to the queries of the Nightjar. From afar I would hear the honk of a Sambar deer and maybe a herd of Elephants would lumber by. In the daytime, I would swing in my hummock reading Hemingway as hoards of Langurs would scramble up the trees and chatter at me. I would slowly drift off to sleep, dreaming of the snows of Kilimanjaro as they dissolve into Himalayas and Tierra del Fuego. I wouldn’t stir when chilly winds start blowing from the mountains.

******* Balachandran V, Trivandrum10.04.2011

14 comments:

  1. Amidst your mundane life, you pause and take out these old photographs, certificates, letters and other remains and think about those days. Your eyes twinkle - with joy and sadness at the same time and you wish you got those moments once again; only to come back to reality.

    Baby Balan is all happy and enthusiastic. The certificate is indeed a treasure - doctor then! Oh my!

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  2. Mundane? Never, B! I live in my dreams that are so exciting! Like the ultimate trip to Tierra del Fuego, like the deliberate plans for research into Himalayan pilgrimage, like the reality of serenity in Attappadi! I lead an enviable life! :-D

    PS. I am going on a trip to Ladakh ( again) in July. Have already booked my tickets!

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  3. Wishing you all moments you have imagined,

    Nice to know your granny. Seems to be nice lady. Intellect one.

    Good Luck for your trip.

    I was planning to in April it self but had to cancel because of lack of company.
    :)

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  4. Ladakh? and again???

    You do lead an enviable life Balan. I am tad too jealous of you now

    Wait till I plan some trips, i would make you envious as well :-p

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  5. Balan,
    That was indeed wonderful reading.I noticed the date on that certificate as 1918! A doctor from Madras Medical College! She must have been a wonderful doctor. I remember how doctors were respected when I was young. I respect her courage to take up farming,at a time when a doctor could make any amount of money.

    I remember those lovely villas facing the beach at Sanghumukhom and had often wondered who would be the lucky ones to live in those mansions.I know my lifetime of work will not be enough to get even a corner of those houses now.

    You are part of a big history,Balan!

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  6. Balan,
    That was indeed wonderful reading.I noticed the date on that certificate as 1918! A doctor from Madras Medical College! She must have been a wonderful doctor. I remember how doctors were respected when I was young. I respect her courage to take up farming,at a time when a doctor could make any amount of money.

    I remember those lovely villas facing the beach at Sanghumukhom and had often wondered who would be the lucky ones to live in those mansions.I know my lifetime of work will not be enough to get even a corner of those houses now.

    You are part of a big history,Balan!

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  8. That is certainly a treasure to keep- the certificate. guess knowing her, your mother was perhaps stronger willed woman with far more acumen than the grand mother.Perhaps two ladies who faced things head on.

    If there be an access into a "Black hole" ,perhaps one can go in and decide never to come back, where the Shangumugham beach will be seen in its pristine beauty, Trivandrum in its royal quite splendor, and you could be squatting by your Grandma and picking the grains in the tranquil green of the old Mavelikara. Yes Balan dreams are kind of straw that one can hold on.

    As for the photo you posted at the end of the post, my goodness quite a monster it has evolved into ha ha aha ha !!!

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  9. Now that is a good idea.. I must remember that when i go home this hear.. To do the same .. My grand dad was very active person and he use travel a lot , he has so many pictures ..

    and I read in ur comment you going to Ladakh WOW maybe just maybe You might see me there fingers crossed ..

    Bikram's

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  10. @Anil: A lamb, my dear boy, a lamb in wolf's clothing! I don't want to go back into the past. Too many skeletons!

    @Bindu: In fact, this would be the fourth time to Ladakh! I can never have enough of Himalayas. And,B, I am one of those guys who do not envy others, believe me! I wish I could've been a little different - just a little!

    @Doc:When Grandma took up medicine as a career, I understand there were a lot of protest in the conservative society of those days. She found it difficult to get married even! Finally my grandfather came along, a professor in Sanskrit ( he was the Principal of Govt Sanskrit College, Trivandrum) and he had triple MA - Sanskrit, Malayalam and English. He was a disciple of Chattambi Swamikal. But all that for another post...

    @Makk: Thanks, Mak, do make it sometime. Ladakh is a wonderful country.

    @Bikram: Keep in touch. I will be leaving on 6th July till 16th. 5 days in Leh and around.

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  11. An evocative post, thanks. Though not a 'bush man' like you, I know for certain that I too wont stir when chilly winds............

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  12. Dear Balan Sir! It has been a while since I last visited here. Glad I could stop by today. What a treat!

    Thank you for all the sweet memories of your late Grandma and of course the pictures too.

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  13. It is really wonderful to read about your grandma and also about your grandpa.
    I am always interested in biographies/autobiographies.
    such educated ancestors 100 years back when people thought ---aduppoothum penhalukku padippetherkku--which means there is no need to educate the girls since they are only going to tend the kitchen fire.
    great story and great people.

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  14. Wonderful reading about your Grandma, and the certificate, surely a treasure.

    The planks from medicine cabinets were sure put to good use.

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