Memories...

I woke up to the chirping of the birds and the scent of the chembakam flowers. It took me a minute to remember where I was. It’s my annual vacation and I am at my father’s ancestral home “Padmalayam” in Ponani. It is such a welcome relief from the loud hustle and bustle of vehicles that I awaken to everyday.

Today is Muthachan’s death anniversary. The house is all agog with activity and the women are busy in the kitchen preparing food for the big crowd, I could count atleast four generations in all.

All my uncles and aunts take a dip in the pond before performing the rites. My younger brother is also in there catching shoals of little fish in a towel and transferring them to the steel bucket he’s taken along. He says he’ll put them in the well for the big fish to feed on.

The “elayd” is busy arranging the items for the shraadham today. He is a frail old man who is summoned to conduct the rituals in right order.  He asks for sandalwood, rice, flowers, sesame seeds and we children rush to him with the items as he calls for it. I watch what he does with interest while my cousins run off to pluck fruit from the big guava tree in front of the house. The rites are completed in half an hour, by when the elder women performing the rites are all shivering in the wet saris they are draped in. Now comes the exciting part, we clap loudly to attract crows to come and partake the rice-balls sprinkled with sesame seeds offered to the departed soul. The crows flock in a few minutes and I’m told the black raven amidst them is Muthachan. I am lost in thought; why does a person becomes a crow, and not a good-looking bird like a sparrow or parrot? My thoughts then drift to how one could survive in the after-death as a crow if fed just once a year. The thought of food reminds me that I am hungry…I run to the kitchen where mother gives me a steamed rice-cake and a banana.

The annual festival in the Bhagavathy temple ends today. The vicinity is thronged by crowds from far and near. I rush to the stalls selling sweetmeats and colored sweets. My favorite is the bangle-seller’s stall and I take time to decide what I want. The highlight of every festival is the fireworks. Today’s fireworks are by our village and we cheer loudly as it begins. Soon after that we rush to the main temple square for a glimpse of the elephant carrying the Devi vigraham and circumambulating the temple. I spot the Velichappadu beside the elephant, with his sword in hand and long hair left open. The sight of him has always frightened me and I cling on to my father’s hand with all my strength. We watch the chakyar koothu on the make-shift stage and laugh at the jokes the artist says.  It’s late when the programmes end and we skip along the narrow lane back home in the dim light of a hand-lantern with lots of balloons and toys.

My grandmother now has a TV and video player. My father has recorded 12 episodes of the Ramayana for her to see and he is playing it tonight. I’ve watched them a hundred times before, yet I join the rest of the family on the stairs to watch it. My brother and I sing the title song loudly ignoring instructions from the elders to keep the noise down. This cassette ends at the part where Lord Rama kills the demoness Taataka.

It’s late and time for bed. The mosquitoes sing in my ear as I drift into sleep. It is raining outside.

Translation:

Chembakam: a pleasant smelling flower which is yellow or white in color

Shraadham: The rites performed once a year on the death anniversary of the departed person by his family

Muthachan: grandfather

Bhagavathy: goddess

Vigraham: statue of the deity

Velichappadu: Is a prominent person in Devi temples, he acts as a mediator between the deity and the devotees. He cuts his forehead and offers the blood to the deity as a symbol of unshakabe faith.

Chakyar Koothu: a theatrical art in Kerala which is a kind of mono act. The artist recites epic stories but also adds humor to the narration.