ANCESTRAL HOUSE

                                                                  
                  

                                                     

OUR ANCESTRAL HOUSE

 









It was a huge, beautiful   and a very spacious house, a combination of ancient architecture with modern conveniences.. A house built by my grandparents  decades back. It was a home we used to visit at least once in a year from thousands of miles away. Located in  Ottapalam , we could not call it a village, in Kerala. It was more a sleepy town. It was often referred to as the Pensioners’ Paradise where even an Ex Ambassador, Late K P S Menon  who belonged to the southern part of Kerala ,chose to settle down .

           We used to look forward to our annual  vacation which we   would    be    spending with our grandparents and other cousins in this  house.  I remember vividly, the way my grandparents would be at  the huge gate ,waiting for us . They would of course be looking forward to the activity that would follow our arrival  .. a change in their humdrum life . For a few weeks at least, the place would be alive with the sounds and presence of young blood in full steam .For us it was the excitement of  running around the spacious house and the vast compound full of  trees- palms, jackfruit, mangoes, guavas ,custard apples etc .

 Our grandmother would regale us with stories about her childhood, marriage ,life in Burma etc. I recollect what she told us  about the efforts of  our   grandfather   in constructing the house . Grandfather personally supervised the construction of that house disregarding the scorching heat and heavy rains . Every bit of his savings and his sweat had gone into the construction of his dream house.  She told us of the efforts grandfather took , to pick  up the  granite stones for laying at the threshold of the entrance  from the vendors near Thootha river in Cherplasserry a nearby village, and how the carpenters from Trichur who were reportedly the best in the  nearby area , were brought in, for making the huge doors and reclining  high benches in the verandah. For the first time in those days, Mosaic flooring was tried in the living room and this was done manually by grinding the coloured chips   over and over again till it shone. The Belgian  glass panes for the ventilators were picked up by grandfather personally. The brass work on the doors were made  specially by artisans who worked  for the construction of temples  etc etc.The flooring in black and red oxide did not lose their sheen even after decades and we children had great fun looking at our  reflections  in it. 
  

                                  Every time I went there I discovered something new in the place and in my grandparents .With every visit I grew more attached to them and the house. None of the other grandchildren seemed to share my feelings May be that is why when  death took one and then the other of my grandparents within a span of two years  and the sons decided to sell the house ,I felt a lump in my throat .My request to retain the house  so that we could all get together once in a way seemed feeble even to my own ears .The lump only grew   and choked me when the sale deed was completed  and the family who bought it  were all excited over their new acquisition .Their little children were running all over the place  and I felt like stopping them ,shouting that  I could not bear to see them do what we children had done decades back. To think that children of strangers  whom my grandparents had never known would be  staying in the house ,which was built with so much of love and  hopes of a generation or two living together . I could almost feel my grandparents stand beside me and cry silent tears....  I  felt as though a part of my life  was dead and buried  with them...Life would of course go on...nothing is permanent .. .The transient nature of life loomed large that day before my eyes... ! Detachment ... yes we have to imbibe the meaning of that word in its essence...That lesson I learnt  with the sale of our ancestral house...

ON LADY DRIVERS IN COCHIN

                                                               

                                                                  
                                                                           ON LADY DRIVERS

The Motor car was reportedly first seen on Indian roads in 1897 and of course was  for  long, driven only by men . The first Indian lady to drive a car is reported to be Mrs. Suzanne RD Tata in 1905. I have no idea when  a  lady would have first ventured to take to the wheels in Kerala. It could not have been too far in the past, otherwise   the men in the state would not be still  staring at women drivers with awe /envy even in this twenty first century !

                                                                                          It was in the early   eighties that I decided to take the steering wheels in my hands ! Even in a city like Cochin , those days, one could count the lady car drivers  on your fingers .There was just one  driving school in this city then, which afforded driving lessons to women.

                                The first car that I bought was a Fiat owned by a  lady doctor. She was very frank when she gave me the reason for selling it.  She  had to drive to a hospital a little distance away from the city and every day she was literally chased by a bus on the way. The bus driver  derived some sadistic pleasure of scaring the hell out of her by almost scraping against the car even when  she gave enough room for him to pass. The passengers in the bus also seemed to enjoy the intimidation of the doctor, by the bus driver. What she told me, I think really instilled in me a kind of vindictive attitude  ,may be because I was  a  fighter against injustice of all kinds, and I resolved never to be cowed down by such intimidation tactics of any driver,  be it a light or heavy vehicle. Although initially I was wary about buses behind me honking away to glory even when it was evident that I could not move my car  forward   an  inch, in course of time I developed a kind of sinister pleasure in not  giving way, even if I could ! After all,  I also had equal rights to usage of the road.

                                  When the Supreme Court  gave its final ruling on the  ban of tinted glasses and   sunshields on  motor vehicles,  it  is women like me  we who were really adversely affected .For women  like  me who have been a minority on the roads, even in a city like Cochin    ,  the advent of the sun film on car windows was a boon. Apart from the fact that it saved our skin form the harsh rays  while driving in the scorching sun , it afforded a kind of  shield from the  men on the roads who  looked into (looked down would be the right word !) the vehicles driven by a woman , as if seeing an extraterrestrial creature. This was very irritating   especially  while waiting  at  traffic junctions for the green lights. The looks that emanated from  men  in the vehicles  alongside , was framed with  sarcastic  and  sardonic expressions  and derision .It  certainly was and  is , an intrusion into our privacy .

                               There were days when I had  to  leave my office after sundown and the sun film  on the car  gave me a kind of secure feeling to drive  home . In those days  Cochin though considered the commercial capital of Kerala was  like a sleepy village by 7 pm. The shops would down their shutters by then and the roads were near empty. The number of cars  on  the roads  was also hardly ten percent of what it is  today. Mostly Ambassadors and Fiats with the little Maruti  coming on to the scene by the mid eighties. I remember  an incident in the  nineties.  On   the  Annual Financial Closing day, the bank branches had to submit , to the local administrative office, what was referred to as the Closing Returns   of the branch  office. This was to be submitted on the same   day , even if it was  late into the night. That was much before the banks were computerized and the preparation of the   statements  which  were done manually,  often  could be completed  only by 10  pm or later. On that particular day, by the time we  got everything ready  at our branch, it was about 11 pm and as the HOD ,I insisted that I shall deliver the papers to the Administrative  office myself ,on my way home and refused offers from other male colleagues to undertake the assignment. The fact that the windows of my car had the sunscreen film added to my confidence as I felt that it would not be apparent  that a woman was at the wheels, to anyone on the road who had any evil designs! After handing over the cover I took the road home. The roads were totally deserted. I noticed the headlight of a two wheeler which appeared to be following me. I decided not to take the shortcut to my house   and  kept  driving  at  maximum  speed possible on the main road. Finally I reached the by lane   to the house and my foot was fully pressed on the accelerator. The two wheeler  disappeared ! The next day when I narrated the incident to my colleagues, everyone had a hearty laugh. It was then that I came to know that the rider of the two wheeler was none other than a colleague who was deployed by the others to follow me till I reached  a safe distance from my home !   That was a day when I realized that chivalry was certainly not totally  dead !

                But   not  all  of the male species are  chivalrous  and most still have the chauvinistic attitude, which is an undisputed fact. When we women try to believe that  the  attitude of men towards women is certainly improving ,  some  experience  pulls us back to the old track. Like what happened the other day. I got a SOS call from my niece who was coming to Cochin by  train  ,on an emergency trip. The train was reaching the city at an unearthly hour of 3 am and her parents were not in town. She  wanted  me to pick her up from the Railway station. I was out on the road by about 2.45 am. The fact that the car’s windows were not tinted did  make me feel a little insecure, but  I proceeded. Just when I was nearing the Railway Station ,I saw a couple of men in uniform on the left side of the road. I did not expect to be stopped , but was. By then I had overshot by a few feet and one of the policemen came running to the car. “Sir it’s a woman ! “ he shouted  to the other man. The senior strode to the car. I pulled down the window glass. He wanted to know where I was going to, at this odd hour.  Understandable .  But his next remark wasn’t. Don’t you have men at home   , was his question. I suppressed the rage I felt and intuitively  decided to keep my cool. Without answering his question I asked him in  Malayalam ,”Son, do you want to  see my papers or not ?”.He stared at me for a few seconds , may be gauging my age .May be my expression and tone warned him that I would not tolerate any nonsense,  or maybe he realized that I was not a young lady out for a jaunt at that hour ! He  just  gestured me to leave !That sure was not a case of chivalry, nor a question of concern for a woman driving  at an odd hour. It was absolute chauvinism and gender bias ! It is the tribe of this kind ,who by their behavior still infuse  a kind of insecure feeling even in  comparatively braver women like me . Well ,when even the so called God- men and ministers  including even women ministers , keep questioning the propriety of women venturing out in the dark ,what can we expect from the common man? It will be ages till the mindset of the average man changes  to accommodate the concept  that  there cannot be two different  standards for men and women.