When we were studying in school, the educational qualification required before you could enroll for a professional degree or a degree in science and arts was 11+1 years of studies, instead of the 10+2 system high school students these days are familiar with.
The best point of this system was that we were only 16 years of age when we entered into 'college', free from our strict teachers, school uniforms, a long day consisting of 9-5 school hours and a compulsory attendance for all the classes. The worst point was that we had to cram what the +2 students study in two years in the available ten months of classes excluding the summer vacation. So we had very little time to enjoy our new-found freedom. But we made the most of our 'college girl' status and walked with our noses high up in the air whenever we passed our erstwhile juniors of the High School which was in the same campus as our college.
These educational institutions are located in a a sprawling multi-acre campus in a big town, a district capital (now a corporation) and the people were mostly middle class, not super rich as in the state's capital. Our college was one of the best known institutions in the state, exclusively devoted to women's education. It had Masters courses for Physics and Chemistry which even many men's colleges didn't possess. B.Com was introduced in our women's college, in the early seventies, our college being a pioneer in such things always. Till then we had only 'B.A'.s and 'B.Sc' s.
Our college was (and is) steeped in the traditions of our Tamil culture and arts and so had a degree course which conferred a 'B.A.' degree in Carnatic Music! A very strict dress code was enforced and students had to wear only sarees. The 'P.U.C' (Pre-University Course) class to which we belonged was the only exception as we had all completed only 16 years and not so adept in carrying off wearing a saree with aplomb! So we were allowed to wear 'Half-sarees'. We had so much grouse against the management as we all looked very 'country style' whereas the town's other women's college run by nuns allowed their students to wear such 'modern' dresses as salwar-kameez and chudidhars! They could even wear long skirts and blouses as their own High School in their campus had skirts and blouses as their uniforms. We used to envy them their smart uniform of blue skirt and white blouses, while we were in High School (clad in uniform green-coloured half-sarees) and now we were burning with envy at the 'cool' salwar kameez and other North Indian or western dresses their students sported!
Anyway wearing colours other than the green colour of our High School was a welcome change for us. We enjoyed wearing 'colour' dresses every day instead of the boring uniform. But it was no fun once we had shown off all the sets of half-sarees we possessed! We had to wait for the new dresses we usually received for our birthdays or some festivals like Pongal or Deepavali.
My classmates were mostly from my own 11th standard class of the high school and so we didn't feel as nervous as some of my new classmates who had come from other schools or other towns or even from other countries such as Malaysia, Srilanka and Singapore and were staying in the hostels. They had divided the 200 students belonging to the 'Maths Group' (Maths, Physics and Chemistry combo) into two batches, 'A' and 'B', each having 100 students. We were supposed to go for an engineering degree or for Physics or Chemistry degrees. I belonged to the 'B' batch. On the first day, I felt lost in the atmosphere of 100 students yelling 'Good Morning Miss' at the start of every class and held fast to the company of the girls from 'our school'. Some of my friends had been allotted to the 'A' batch and so I was forced to make new friends from the 'B' batch who were not so close to me in my high school days.
Initially, we were enjoying the freedom of not paying attention to the teacher as were not admonished for looking out of the window like we were in our high school and purposely gazed outside at the big trees in the campus (even though the limited scenery grew boring in minutes!) Some of the hostelers would gobble up the lunch boxes of the day scholars like me, sitting in the back benches. Then we came to know that the lecturers were just doing their duty (They could not be blamed if they could not manage to remember most of the 100 students' names in the ten months we had!)and not as interested in making us understand the lessons and get good marks as our devoted teachers of the high school! We had to look out for our own marks and we got scared of failing every course if we did not pay attention in the classes. Now we realized the value of our high school teachers who made us pay attention in the classes and who were till then 'dragons' giving out punishments like 'standing on the benches' or standing outside the classrooms', if we so much as glanced outside during classes!
For the first time we were responsible for the result of our own actions and attitudes. We felt grown-up within a few weeks of classes! But we sure enjoyed acting all 'grown up college girls' in front of our high school juniors who were lugging around huge school bags. So, even if the books needed for all the five hours of classes for our course could have filled a school bag easily, we insissted in carrying them stached in our hands, resting against our bodies-often dropping them in a very 'uncool' manner!
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Movie Time!
When we were small children, the only entertainment available was either the radio at home or the movies at the theatres. Our parents were very strict in choosing the movies for us to watch. They never missed most of the movies being screened in whichever town we were residing in at that time. But the films had to pass certain criteria before we could be taken to them. The usual process was that my parents would watch the movies first. If the movies were a) decent family entertainment or b) comedies with no vulgar double entendres or C) silver jubilee hits (i.e., they would have crossed a 100 days of screening) or D) 'Bhakthi'-religious movies.
So we got to watch most of Shivaji Ganesan's movies (category 'a') though they were mostly weepy and we kids didn't like them so much then!), most good comedies under category 'b'(Kadhalikka Neramillai, Baama Vijayam etc.,), a few of MGR's hit movies, thrillers like 'Adhey kangal' and movies like 'Kuzhndhaiyum Deivamum' (category C) and movies like 'Thiruvilaiyadal', Thiruvarutselvar and 'Annai Velanganni' (Category C) or educational films like 'Tokyo Olympiad', 'Hatari' etc., (Category E).
Category C would throw up some odd movies of MGR which we were not allowed to watch most of the time on account of their being 'romantic' movies unsuitable to young eyes! So we got to watch 'Enga Vettu Pillai' and 'Ayirathil Oruvan under this category. Once I remember us being sent to the theatre to watch the 'Ulaga Thamizh Maanaadu' clippings (under educational films!) being shown at the interval of an MGR movie which had not passed the silver jubilee criteria. The minute the clipping was shown, we were forcibly removed from the theatre under squeals of protest. we wanted to watch the rest of the movie too!
Forget today's multiplexes fully airconditioned. Most of the theatres were not air-conditioned and it felt very stuffy when it was house-full. It was not a pleasant experience as it is now. The movie part was the only event looked forward to, by us children. Not to mention the smokers' contribution in spite of the 'no smoking' signs. They would light up a cigarette inside the movie hall and would go out during the song sequences to finish it, but the hateful smoke would have caused us head aches.
Once I remember my younger sister falling sick in a stuffy theatre in Trichy and we had to go out of the movie hall to take her to the doctor! I remember how I was feeling guilty that I still wished to continue watching the movie, another part of me was praying to God that nothing should happen to my sister and that I would never ever speak a harsh word to her! Of course it was only a fainting spell because of the suffocating atmosphere and she recovered in an hour.
So we got to watch most of Shivaji Ganesan's movies (category 'a') though they were mostly weepy and we kids didn't like them so much then!), most good comedies under category 'b'(Kadhalikka Neramillai, Baama Vijayam etc.,), a few of MGR's hit movies, thrillers like 'Adhey kangal' and movies like 'Kuzhndhaiyum Deivamum' (category C) and movies like 'Thiruvilaiyadal', Thiruvarutselvar and 'Annai Velanganni' (Category C) or educational films like 'Tokyo Olympiad', 'Hatari' etc., (Category E).
Category C would throw up some odd movies of MGR which we were not allowed to watch most of the time on account of their being 'romantic' movies unsuitable to young eyes! So we got to watch 'Enga Vettu Pillai' and 'Ayirathil Oruvan under this category. Once I remember us being sent to the theatre to watch the 'Ulaga Thamizh Maanaadu' clippings (under educational films!) being shown at the interval of an MGR movie which had not passed the silver jubilee criteria. The minute the clipping was shown, we were forcibly removed from the theatre under squeals of protest. we wanted to watch the rest of the movie too!
Forget today's multiplexes fully airconditioned. Most of the theatres were not air-conditioned and it felt very stuffy when it was house-full. It was not a pleasant experience as it is now. The movie part was the only event looked forward to, by us children. Not to mention the smokers' contribution in spite of the 'no smoking' signs. They would light up a cigarette inside the movie hall and would go out during the song sequences to finish it, but the hateful smoke would have caused us head aches.
Once I remember my younger sister falling sick in a stuffy theatre in Trichy and we had to go out of the movie hall to take her to the doctor! I remember how I was feeling guilty that I still wished to continue watching the movie, another part of me was praying to God that nothing should happen to my sister and that I would never ever speak a harsh word to her! Of course it was only a fainting spell because of the suffocating atmosphere and she recovered in an hour.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Of Cool Coconut Groves
My grandparents owned rice fields and coconut groves. Whenever we went to their place during our holidays, making the most of our stay there was anticipated eagerly by all of us. Full of coconut trees, mango trees and jack fruit trees, the grove was shady mostly.
Labourers would have removed all the weeds underneath the trees and hoed the dirt around the trees as the roots needed to breathe. Loose soil is necessary around the roots to let fresh air in and so this work would be done periodically and a circle would be formed around the tree to enable watering. The other parts except the circles around the trees would be filled with various weeds and grass as these would be cleaned only at longer intervals. This grove formed a perfect playground for us in our childhood.
I remember one of the old coconut trees growing almost horizontally for a length of ten feet and then upright, in an effort to find the best position to catch the rays of sun amidst the shade formed by the nearby mango tree. The mango tree in turn sported a horizontal bough, thereby providing us kids with fantastic playthings. We would sit on the horizontal boughs and the trunk of the coconut tree (though it was a bit rough compared to the mango tree's trunk) and play houses all day long.
There was a very wide well to irrigate the trees, right at the centre of the grove. The coconut palm leaves in their fronds would be left to soak in the well from time to time to make them pliable, as these leaves were used to make 'keetru' to build roofs for huts and temporary pandals. I remember the labourers' wives making brooms out of the central sticks of the left-over individual leaves, sitting on the floor, with their feet stretched out, wielding a sharp knife to remove the sticks from the leaves in a single deft move. The leftover parts all would be put out in the open and left to dry, to be used as fuel in the kitchen or for the boiler. These scenes would be seen only a few times in all our trips. If the fronds are floating on the water of the wide well, the boys would be upset as it prevented them from practising their dives and swimming in the water! But the upside was that we would be treated to the tender coconut water as the labourers could climb up the trees in seconds and pluck the coconuts and cut them for us.
The girls in the kids' group would have perched on the 'kona thennai maram' (bent coconut tree) and the branches of the mango trees and started playing already. We used to sing the popular Tamil film songs of the time very loudly, swinging our legs keeping time, as we could not be heard outside the big grove. We must have looked like little monkeys to any onlooker! Sometimes we would be fighting for the right of singing a particular song shouting, 'The song is mine, MINE!' If no amicable settlement was reached, all the claimers would be heard braying out the lyrics in many discordant notes! Silly though it might seem now, if I recollect these times even now so vividly, you can imagine how much we would have enjoyed it!
Labourers would have removed all the weeds underneath the trees and hoed the dirt around the trees as the roots needed to breathe. Loose soil is necessary around the roots to let fresh air in and so this work would be done periodically and a circle would be formed around the tree to enable watering. The other parts except the circles around the trees would be filled with various weeds and grass as these would be cleaned only at longer intervals. This grove formed a perfect playground for us in our childhood.
I remember one of the old coconut trees growing almost horizontally for a length of ten feet and then upright, in an effort to find the best position to catch the rays of sun amidst the shade formed by the nearby mango tree. The mango tree in turn sported a horizontal bough, thereby providing us kids with fantastic playthings. We would sit on the horizontal boughs and the trunk of the coconut tree (though it was a bit rough compared to the mango tree's trunk) and play houses all day long.
There was a very wide well to irrigate the trees, right at the centre of the grove. The coconut palm leaves in their fronds would be left to soak in the well from time to time to make them pliable, as these leaves were used to make 'keetru' to build roofs for huts and temporary pandals. I remember the labourers' wives making brooms out of the central sticks of the left-over individual leaves, sitting on the floor, with their feet stretched out, wielding a sharp knife to remove the sticks from the leaves in a single deft move. The leftover parts all would be put out in the open and left to dry, to be used as fuel in the kitchen or for the boiler. These scenes would be seen only a few times in all our trips. If the fronds are floating on the water of the wide well, the boys would be upset as it prevented them from practising their dives and swimming in the water! But the upside was that we would be treated to the tender coconut water as the labourers could climb up the trees in seconds and pluck the coconuts and cut them for us.
The girls in the kids' group would have perched on the 'kona thennai maram' (bent coconut tree) and the branches of the mango trees and started playing already. We used to sing the popular Tamil film songs of the time very loudly, swinging our legs keeping time, as we could not be heard outside the big grove. We must have looked like little monkeys to any onlooker! Sometimes we would be fighting for the right of singing a particular song shouting, 'The song is mine, MINE!' If no amicable settlement was reached, all the claimers would be heard braying out the lyrics in many discordant notes! Silly though it might seem now, if I recollect these times even now so vividly, you can imagine how much we would have enjoyed it!
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Snake Charmer!
This is a common sight in any small town or village in India even today. A snake charmer and his assistants (his family most of the time) would start playing an Urumi melam or some such instrument(drum) in a street corner and call out to the passers-by about the impending fight between the snake in his bamboo basket and the mongoose he has at the end of a tether.
When a crowd has been collected he would stand in the middle and would entreat them to wait for the fight as the climax of his program. In the meantime, he would provide some more entertainment for his audience, he would say.
He would make his assistant (usually a small child) lie down in the centre and cover his whole body, including the face, with a blanket. Then he would start asking him some questions about the people around him.
"Boy, what is the colour of that gentleman's shirt who stands at the eastern side of our show?", he would ask and the boy would reply with the right answer! The mostly gullible audience would be amazed how the blindfolded boy could answer all the questions correctly, but for the blessing of the divine mother-goddess Kali or Angalaparameswari whose disciple the snake charmer proclaims himself to be! Suitably impressed with the question and answer session, the audience would be ready to accept the fortune-telling session that follows and would part with the few coins that was the fees. If the business was dull and no coins were forthcoming, the man would start frightening the more gullible section of the audience with dire predictions which would always end, "You would die a horrible death vomitting blood, if you don't part with the money which I can see with my third eye, hidden in your pocket!"
A few illiterate villagers and small children would fall prey to such admonitions and would part with their money, having become wiser enough not to stand as part of the audeience the next time around! Of course the snake and mongoose would never fight as the man would wind up everything when he had collected some money! He would mumble something about the snake being hungry or tired or sleepy, to the few brave souls who asked him about it!
I remember how my friend and myself, both nine years old at that time, stood at the edge of the crowd in such a show. It was during our lunch break from the small town school in which we were studying. The fact was that we had a Twenty Five paise coin in our possession (1/4 of a rupee). The music teacher had given it to us asking us to get her some coffee from the nearby teashop as she had a terrible headache(perhaps from our attempts to sing in her class!) Attracted by the drum beats we were tempted to watch the show and at the end of it, we were shocked to hear the terrible fate awaiting us if we did not part with the money! We managed to discuss the issue between us and convince ourselves that the coin was the teacher's and in no way would it provoke the curse. But we had quite a few nightmares that week!
When a crowd has been collected he would stand in the middle and would entreat them to wait for the fight as the climax of his program. In the meantime, he would provide some more entertainment for his audience, he would say.
He would make his assistant (usually a small child) lie down in the centre and cover his whole body, including the face, with a blanket. Then he would start asking him some questions about the people around him.
"Boy, what is the colour of that gentleman's shirt who stands at the eastern side of our show?", he would ask and the boy would reply with the right answer! The mostly gullible audience would be amazed how the blindfolded boy could answer all the questions correctly, but for the blessing of the divine mother-goddess Kali or Angalaparameswari whose disciple the snake charmer proclaims himself to be! Suitably impressed with the question and answer session, the audience would be ready to accept the fortune-telling session that follows and would part with the few coins that was the fees. If the business was dull and no coins were forthcoming, the man would start frightening the more gullible section of the audience with dire predictions which would always end, "You would die a horrible death vomitting blood, if you don't part with the money which I can see with my third eye, hidden in your pocket!"
A few illiterate villagers and small children would fall prey to such admonitions and would part with their money, having become wiser enough not to stand as part of the audeience the next time around! Of course the snake and mongoose would never fight as the man would wind up everything when he had collected some money! He would mumble something about the snake being hungry or tired or sleepy, to the few brave souls who asked him about it!
I remember how my friend and myself, both nine years old at that time, stood at the edge of the crowd in such a show. It was during our lunch break from the small town school in which we were studying. The fact was that we had a Twenty Five paise coin in our possession (1/4 of a rupee). The music teacher had given it to us asking us to get her some coffee from the nearby teashop as she had a terrible headache(perhaps from our attempts to sing in her class!) Attracted by the drum beats we were tempted to watch the show and at the end of it, we were shocked to hear the terrible fate awaiting us if we did not part with the money! We managed to discuss the issue between us and convince ourselves that the coin was the teacher's and in no way would it provoke the curse. But we had quite a few nightmares that week!
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Oil bath!
All my stories so far have been of the playtime and travelling we enjoyed as small kids. But there was the routine life we had as school going children in our home, under the guidance of our parents. Taking oil bath was one routine which is still unforgettable just because it was a very unpleasant experience for us!
After a school week, the weekend was a welcome change from our full day of studies. But one aspect of our weekend routine used to frighten us so much that we hated getting up on Sundays. Saturdays were spent on playing and finishing our homework but Sundays were the days when my mom insisted that we had our oil baths. It is the tradition that girls have their oil baths on Fridays and boys have theirs on Saturdays. Since we had to attend school on Fridays, we girls had to undergo the ordeal of the oil bath on Sundays.
We had to wrap a towel around our bodies and stand in the open under the morning sun. Sesame oil would be poured on our head and our hair would be dripping with oil. When the oil was massaged onto the scalp, my mother would be telling us to take care that no part was left oil-free. She would have an idiomatic phrase for every part; for example, if we left out the bottom half of our head, it would spell doom for the health of our brothers, if the top was left out it would bring on poverty etc., which would prick our conscience enough not to leave any part of our head without oil!
Then came the worst part. Oil would be poured into our eyes, nose and ears amidst shrieks of protest. We had to apply oil on our bodies too. Then we all took turns one by one, to be given baths in hot water prepared and stored in big buckets nearby. The rest of us had to stand in the sun absorbing the light as it was said to be beneficial for our health. My mother and her assistant (maidservant, usually) would perform the rituals every Sunday morning.
First kid in the line had to sit on a low stool. Then the shikakai powder (home made, with many herbal ingredients added) would be made into a paste and massaged onto our head and hair. It was a great feat to escape from the shikakai powder accidentally going into our eyes, though we had to sit with our eyes closed to avoid that! Of course we would like to take a peek at the going-on every now and then! As a result, most of the kids would have reddened eyes at the end of the bathing session. It seemed to take forever to remove every trace of oil from our hair. Once my mother was satisfied she would send the child to the maid to wash off the herbal powder, soap our bodies and pour hot water, finishing our baths, pulling the next kid towards her for her turn.
Once the bath was over, we would be rolled in a towel and asked to bind our hair with an absorbent cotton towel. With eyes smarting and the whole body feeling spent after all the massage, we would dress ourselves and dry our hair in the incense smoke, prepared specially for drying our hair. Then we had to wait in line for the next step.
A mixture of cumin seeds and garlic pods would be crushed with a little salt and made into a drink and we all had to take a little of it to ward off cold and to improve our digestion. This was the last straw and we would be saying ‘yuck’ and trying to run off into various corners of our house to avoid the spicy home made medicine! After our baths, we would be given hot soup by mid morning to help us regain all our lost energy. We would all feel sleepy by the time the ordeal was over!
Oil for bath:
Heat 1/2 cup sesame oil with 6 cloves of garlic. When garlic is brown, take it off the heat. Cool and apply it on scalp when warm, with a small ball of cotton. Cover the whole of scalp and let it soak for half an hour. Wash it off with herbal soapnut powder or with shampoo.
Another oil recipe:
Sesame oil 250 gm
castor oil 100 gm
Neem oil 100 gm.
Mix all together and use for oil bath. This oil helps keep your hair grow thick and dark, without dandruff.
Herbal shampoo powder:
Powder the following finely;
1 kg Shikakai (soap nut)
1/2 kg methi
100 gm whole tur dal 100 gm
100 gm mustard
Use a tbsp mixed with half cup water every time you wash your hair. It is good for even sinusitis patients.
100 gm mustard
After a school week, the weekend was a welcome change from our full day of studies. But one aspect of our weekend routine used to frighten us so much that we hated getting up on Sundays. Saturdays were spent on playing and finishing our homework but Sundays were the days when my mom insisted that we had our oil baths. It is the tradition that girls have their oil baths on Fridays and boys have theirs on Saturdays. Since we had to attend school on Fridays, we girls had to undergo the ordeal of the oil bath on Sundays.
We had to wrap a towel around our bodies and stand in the open under the morning sun. Sesame oil would be poured on our head and our hair would be dripping with oil. When the oil was massaged onto the scalp, my mother would be telling us to take care that no part was left oil-free. She would have an idiomatic phrase for every part; for example, if we left out the bottom half of our head, it would spell doom for the health of our brothers, if the top was left out it would bring on poverty etc., which would prick our conscience enough not to leave any part of our head without oil!
Then came the worst part. Oil would be poured into our eyes, nose and ears amidst shrieks of protest. We had to apply oil on our bodies too. Then we all took turns one by one, to be given baths in hot water prepared and stored in big buckets nearby. The rest of us had to stand in the sun absorbing the light as it was said to be beneficial for our health. My mother and her assistant (maidservant, usually) would perform the rituals every Sunday morning.
First kid in the line had to sit on a low stool. Then the shikakai powder (home made, with many herbal ingredients added) would be made into a paste and massaged onto our head and hair. It was a great feat to escape from the shikakai powder accidentally going into our eyes, though we had to sit with our eyes closed to avoid that! Of course we would like to take a peek at the going-on every now and then! As a result, most of the kids would have reddened eyes at the end of the bathing session. It seemed to take forever to remove every trace of oil from our hair. Once my mother was satisfied she would send the child to the maid to wash off the herbal powder, soap our bodies and pour hot water, finishing our baths, pulling the next kid towards her for her turn.
Once the bath was over, we would be rolled in a towel and asked to bind our hair with an absorbent cotton towel. With eyes smarting and the whole body feeling spent after all the massage, we would dress ourselves and dry our hair in the incense smoke, prepared specially for drying our hair. Then we had to wait in line for the next step.
A mixture of cumin seeds and garlic pods would be crushed with a little salt and made into a drink and we all had to take a little of it to ward off cold and to improve our digestion. This was the last straw and we would be saying ‘yuck’ and trying to run off into various corners of our house to avoid the spicy home made medicine! After our baths, we would be given hot soup by mid morning to help us regain all our lost energy. We would all feel sleepy by the time the ordeal was over!
Oil for bath:
Heat 1/2 cup sesame oil with 6 cloves of garlic. When garlic is brown, take it off the heat. Cool and apply it on scalp when warm, with a small ball of cotton. Cover the whole of scalp and let it soak for half an hour. Wash it off with herbal soapnut powder or with shampoo.
Another oil recipe:
Sesame oil 250 gm
castor oil 100 gm
Neem oil 100 gm.
Mix all together and use for oil bath. This oil helps keep your hair grow thick and dark, without dandruff.
Herbal shampoo powder:
Powder the following finely;
1 kg Shikakai (soap nut)
1/2 kg methi
100 gm whole tur dal 100 gm
100 gm mustard
Use a tbsp mixed with half cup water every time you wash your hair. It is good for even sinusitis patients.
100 gm mustard
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Another story on our holidays!
Whenever we went to our grandparents' place, my cousins too used to visit them as they were also of the same age. Needless to say, each family had a minimum of five to six children in those days. My mother had only one sister and so her six kids would visit my maternal grandparents.In my father's place, he had two sisters who had been married by the time he got married and so their children would visit my grandparents there. Besides them my unmarried aunt and uncle were living there. My aunt's schooling had been stopped as was usual for girls in those days when she had passed the ninth standard. But my uncle, just a year older than her, was studying for his English Literature degree at the local college in the nearby town (my mother's place) as a preparation to his joining the law college the next year.
My paternal grandparents' house was full of books, which was a blessing for us as we could develop a love for reading books in our numerous visits there. Our aunts loved reading and because they had been educated in Tamil medium, they would buy all the Tamil magazines available then, namely, Kumudam, Kalki, Kalkandu and Ananda Vikatan. They would bind all the novels being serialized and published in weekly installments. When the third aunt got married I was some six years old and too young to start reading the grown-up's books.
Within the next few years or so, I discovered the Tamil books and fell upon them with a fervour which made my grandmother comment, "Won't you get neck pain if you keep burying your face in the books all day long?" I would reply crossly, "What do you want me to do?" She would say, "Why don't you talk or play or something", for which I would reply, "Come on, let me talk to you!'whereupon she would just shake her head and get busy with her household work. She would be making numerous trips to and from the main door and 'thinnai' where my grandfather would be presiding over his field labourers in the evening, distributing wages. Maybe this was the way she demonstrated the love she felt for her grand-daughter who was visiting!
My uncle had a super edition of Shakespeare's complete work but I could make neither head nor tail of it as you can guess. All his other books were of college level and I could not decipher any of them. Still the printed pages fascinated me and every year I would just go through his books, wishing I could understand the content. It was many years before I did understand them! I would search for more books when I had exhausted all of my aunt's collection and tried to read the few books in my grandfather's room. I was very disappointed to see that all were books about astrology. (My grandfather dabbled in amateur astrology and kept almanacs and books for that purpose). I would not leave any printed word and would read through all the packing papers. In those days groceries were sold in 'pottalam' made from papers torn from old newspapers and books. Once we had bought peanuts from a vendor and read through the paper in which it had been packed. We found the address of a girl who had written a leave letter model for English composition in her school notebook. Promptly we wrote a letter to her asking her to be our pen-friend, giving our complete address! Fortunately our uncle intercepted this attempt when we were about to post the card and explained to us the dangers in giving out our address to complete strangers.
My uncle's other interests were drawing and body-building. He would do push-ups and weights training and we children loved to hang by his stiffly held arms when he was in a good mood and indulged us! He would draw well-muscled men in his special notebook and we were amazed to see an artist amidst us! Just by copying his drawing notebook, we also tried to learn the art of drawing. We would copy the drawings which accompanied the serial stories in Tamil weekly magazines. We loved drawing the historical characters in the stories of Kalki and Chandilyan which were being published in Vikatan and Kumudam in those years, as the women characters wore a lot of lovely jewellery!
My sister V and myself did learn the fundamentals of drawing from his books and we would use pieces of chalk to draw on the cement floor of the house, as blank papers were hard to come by in the village. Every available notebook was hogged by my aunt to take down the lyrics of all the Tamil film songs and to write stories. She would keep sending her stories to magazine but I don't recollect any of them being published! We would try to leave a pathway through the 'drawings' but towards evening the available floor space would have shrunk and we would use the 'pathways' too for our drawing practice!The adults would yell at us as their bare feet (Any footwear is not used inside the house-all footwear would be left outside the main door) would start burning after stepping on the chalky figures.
The intellectually stimulating environment of our paternal grandparents' house was more attractive to us than the maternal granparents' house where no chool/college going people were available. If our parents had to go back to their workplace, leaving the kids in the care of our grandparents, we would vote for being left in our paternal grandparents' village rather than the town house of our maternal grandparents! As a result of these stays all of us developed a love for reading, listening to songs and appreciating art.
My paternal grandparents' house was full of books, which was a blessing for us as we could develop a love for reading books in our numerous visits there. Our aunts loved reading and because they had been educated in Tamil medium, they would buy all the Tamil magazines available then, namely, Kumudam, Kalki, Kalkandu and Ananda Vikatan. They would bind all the novels being serialized and published in weekly installments. When the third aunt got married I was some six years old and too young to start reading the grown-up's books.
Within the next few years or so, I discovered the Tamil books and fell upon them with a fervour which made my grandmother comment, "Won't you get neck pain if you keep burying your face in the books all day long?" I would reply crossly, "What do you want me to do?" She would say, "Why don't you talk or play or something", for which I would reply, "Come on, let me talk to you!'whereupon she would just shake her head and get busy with her household work. She would be making numerous trips to and from the main door and 'thinnai' where my grandfather would be presiding over his field labourers in the evening, distributing wages. Maybe this was the way she demonstrated the love she felt for her grand-daughter who was visiting!
My uncle had a super edition of Shakespeare's complete work but I could make neither head nor tail of it as you can guess. All his other books were of college level and I could not decipher any of them. Still the printed pages fascinated me and every year I would just go through his books, wishing I could understand the content. It was many years before I did understand them! I would search for more books when I had exhausted all of my aunt's collection and tried to read the few books in my grandfather's room. I was very disappointed to see that all were books about astrology. (My grandfather dabbled in amateur astrology and kept almanacs and books for that purpose). I would not leave any printed word and would read through all the packing papers. In those days groceries were sold in 'pottalam' made from papers torn from old newspapers and books. Once we had bought peanuts from a vendor and read through the paper in which it had been packed. We found the address of a girl who had written a leave letter model for English composition in her school notebook. Promptly we wrote a letter to her asking her to be our pen-friend, giving our complete address! Fortunately our uncle intercepted this attempt when we were about to post the card and explained to us the dangers in giving out our address to complete strangers.
My uncle's other interests were drawing and body-building. He would do push-ups and weights training and we children loved to hang by his stiffly held arms when he was in a good mood and indulged us! He would draw well-muscled men in his special notebook and we were amazed to see an artist amidst us! Just by copying his drawing notebook, we also tried to learn the art of drawing. We would copy the drawings which accompanied the serial stories in Tamil weekly magazines. We loved drawing the historical characters in the stories of Kalki and Chandilyan which were being published in Vikatan and Kumudam in those years, as the women characters wore a lot of lovely jewellery!
My sister V and myself did learn the fundamentals of drawing from his books and we would use pieces of chalk to draw on the cement floor of the house, as blank papers were hard to come by in the village. Every available notebook was hogged by my aunt to take down the lyrics of all the Tamil film songs and to write stories. She would keep sending her stories to magazine but I don't recollect any of them being published! We would try to leave a pathway through the 'drawings' but towards evening the available floor space would have shrunk and we would use the 'pathways' too for our drawing practice!The adults would yell at us as their bare feet (Any footwear is not used inside the house-all footwear would be left outside the main door) would start burning after stepping on the chalky figures.
The intellectually stimulating environment of our paternal grandparents' house was more attractive to us than the maternal granparents' house where no chool/college going people were available. If our parents had to go back to their workplace, leaving the kids in the care of our grandparents, we would vote for being left in our paternal grandparents' village rather than the town house of our maternal grandparents! As a result of these stays all of us developed a love for reading, listening to songs and appreciating art.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Summer Vacation
When we were a bit older, we didn't spend as much time in our hometowns because of the demands of school. After we came back from our trip, we stayed indoors for most part of the hot summer days. We lived in a Housing Board Colony and so, all the other tenants were also civil servants with school/college going children. In the evenings we could play organized games like ring tennis, Badminton and for the boys, street cricket.
By this time I was in my teens and in the school final year and so felt ' older and wiser'! Being the responsible eldest, I managed the younger ones all through the day. I kept them occupied with various activities.
By the time we finished breakfast the house would have been cleaned and we would be free to do whatever, in the kids' room. We would gather in the room and sit on mats on the floor. Tearing off the unused paper in the last year's school notebooks, we would divide them among ourselves. My younger sister and myself would lead the two groups (as there were six of us we had three in each group) and hold various competitions. The first was a drawing competition in which the youngest would 'win' prizes (as they were too young to write whole sentences) of chocolate bars and a 'certificate' hand made by us. The next would be a poetry competition in which the two eldest (namely my younger sister V and myself!) would win the 'prizes'. The essay writing competion prizes would be given to the middle kids (to encourage their newly found skills of writing grammatically). Though I remember one time when my middle sister U surprised us all by writing a poem which was very original and honest and so won the prize for poem which was usually reserved for the oldest, namely me! It went like this:
Oh butterfly! How beautiful you are,
And how beautiful I am!
When we grew tired of these 'intellectual' pursuits, it would be lunch time. Happily my mother had a cook at home and so she would never ask us to help us with household work. We would have our lunch and return to our room. The next part of the games was very thrilling. We would darken the windows and close the door. With a darkened room the older kids would start telling ghost stories giving our fertile imagination a free rein. The younger ones would start shrieking in fear and there would ensue such a racket that my mother who would be enjoying her siesta would be rudely awakened by all the noise and give a warning shout from the adjacent room! So I had to control the noise level through these stories and stop the proceedings abruptly sometimes.
We would read books for sometime and V and myself would attempt our hand at writing stories ourselves. We would always start a picture story with the CID officer named Shankar (influenced by the Jaishankar movies with a CID Shankar) and put 'to be continued' at the bottom of the page. We were quite good at drawing and our younger siblings would clamour for more of the story but they always were 'to be continued' as our holidays would come to an end soon and we would be too busy with our school work to continue running the 'magazine'.
We would buy pulp children's magazines in Tamil (costing 20paise each) and translated Phantom comics). Once V sent a story for a children's magazine named 'Anil' (squirrel') with a request saying that she need not be paid at all but just publishing is enough! Much to our thrill it was published, with a picture for the story appearing on the cover! Of course they did not even send a complimentary copy but we had to buy it in the shop!
Sometimes we would put on make up and dress up like grown ups and stage dramas for our own benefit. We would write a script ourselves and hold a bedsheet as a screen and with the other 'actors' who were not in the scene being the audience, we would have a hilarious time dressing up and acting in turns. Sometimes my mom, alerted by our running to and fro for her sarees, my father's veshti and face powder, would come in to watch as one of the audience. Initially we would resist her attempts to come inside our room (fearing her scoldings for 'borrowing' her garments) but she always used to enjoy our performances proudly. My younger sisters who were learning Bharathanatyam for sometime would give 'performances', though they could do only a few initial steps at that time. Once I heard her boasting to her relative how her numerous kids kept themselves engaged in the summer holidays that her neighbours would wonder whether all of them had gone to stay with their grandparents! She was happy and proud that we were such a disciplined lot:-)
I think all these summer time activities kindled our imagination and made us more creative. I think the absence of television was the major cause for all these activities and am really thankful for it! We enjoyed our childhood so much with our own activities instead of watching others taking part!
By this time I was in my teens and in the school final year and so felt ' older and wiser'! Being the responsible eldest, I managed the younger ones all through the day. I kept them occupied with various activities.
By the time we finished breakfast the house would have been cleaned and we would be free to do whatever, in the kids' room. We would gather in the room and sit on mats on the floor. Tearing off the unused paper in the last year's school notebooks, we would divide them among ourselves. My younger sister and myself would lead the two groups (as there were six of us we had three in each group) and hold various competitions. The first was a drawing competition in which the youngest would 'win' prizes (as they were too young to write whole sentences) of chocolate bars and a 'certificate' hand made by us. The next would be a poetry competition in which the two eldest (namely my younger sister V and myself!) would win the 'prizes'. The essay writing competion prizes would be given to the middle kids (to encourage their newly found skills of writing grammatically). Though I remember one time when my middle sister U surprised us all by writing a poem which was very original and honest and so won the prize for poem which was usually reserved for the oldest, namely me! It went like this:
Oh butterfly! How beautiful you are,
And how beautiful I am!
When we grew tired of these 'intellectual' pursuits, it would be lunch time. Happily my mother had a cook at home and so she would never ask us to help us with household work. We would have our lunch and return to our room. The next part of the games was very thrilling. We would darken the windows and close the door. With a darkened room the older kids would start telling ghost stories giving our fertile imagination a free rein. The younger ones would start shrieking in fear and there would ensue such a racket that my mother who would be enjoying her siesta would be rudely awakened by all the noise and give a warning shout from the adjacent room! So I had to control the noise level through these stories and stop the proceedings abruptly sometimes.
We would read books for sometime and V and myself would attempt our hand at writing stories ourselves. We would always start a picture story with the CID officer named Shankar (influenced by the Jaishankar movies with a CID Shankar) and put 'to be continued' at the bottom of the page. We were quite good at drawing and our younger siblings would clamour for more of the story but they always were 'to be continued' as our holidays would come to an end soon and we would be too busy with our school work to continue running the 'magazine'.
We would buy pulp children's magazines in Tamil (costing 20paise each) and translated Phantom comics). Once V sent a story for a children's magazine named 'Anil' (squirrel') with a request saying that she need not be paid at all but just publishing is enough! Much to our thrill it was published, with a picture for the story appearing on the cover! Of course they did not even send a complimentary copy but we had to buy it in the shop!
Sometimes we would put on make up and dress up like grown ups and stage dramas for our own benefit. We would write a script ourselves and hold a bedsheet as a screen and with the other 'actors' who were not in the scene being the audience, we would have a hilarious time dressing up and acting in turns. Sometimes my mom, alerted by our running to and fro for her sarees, my father's veshti and face powder, would come in to watch as one of the audience. Initially we would resist her attempts to come inside our room (fearing her scoldings for 'borrowing' her garments) but she always used to enjoy our performances proudly. My younger sisters who were learning Bharathanatyam for sometime would give 'performances', though they could do only a few initial steps at that time. Once I heard her boasting to her relative how her numerous kids kept themselves engaged in the summer holidays that her neighbours would wonder whether all of them had gone to stay with their grandparents! She was happy and proud that we were such a disciplined lot:-)
I think all these summer time activities kindled our imagination and made us more creative. I think the absence of television was the major cause for all these activities and am really thankful for it! We enjoyed our childhood so much with our own activities instead of watching others taking part!
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