I had difficulty breathing...!

I had difficulty breathing. It is like that in old age. Can't say it is actually a difficulty in breathing. Just a kind of breathelessness when I think of my ten children whom I brought to this world and tendered and nurtured so dearly through poverty and lack of everything except a small house and a devoted husband.

They all grew up in the difficulties. At times it was lack of food, at times it was absence of immediarte necessities other than food. The house is going to fall! The well we used to draw water is going dry, needs cleaning and deepening! A son or daughter is seriously sick! Or I am about to deliv er my next child and there is no money to go to the hospital. When I think of all that, I have difficulty in breathing.

I delivered ten children in a matter of twenty six years. The first two were boys, the next two were girls. The first girl died of 'karappan' a kind of skin disease which breaks up the skin surface, mostly on the legs. The treatment for the same is by ayurvedic potions and oils suggested by the local vaidyas (who were the ayurvedic doctors of old and their medications were mostly effective in almost all cases but the unfortunate few, of course, could not pull it out). I bore six more children in the long run and they were all slowly coming up through thick and thin. As soon as my little boys were in school they also started helping me at home as much as they could.

But then, there were their youngsters to be looked after which made house hold work a real job of twenty four hours every day. No body ever called it a 24 x 7 job in those days. Every thing started from the very early morning with the early chatting of birds. But then, it had its own advantage and happiness. All were happy together...as every body shared what ever food and clothes available! And for the lack of any thing, we had the local church where Jesus was always ready to hear the caries of the poor. There were other deities who also pitched in in case of urgent and crucial needs when anyone specially called upon them! Church attendance and activities were mostly free for the poor which looked after a great burden which otherwise would have increased the difficulties.

Time passed with great speed in which the first two sons grew up fast to support the family with their small jobs and in time they got married to suitable girls and that was it. Once married, they were gone. Now the third child was lost to the little disease of 'karappan' and the rest seven and the father of the children and I remained to eek it out. The father of the children was a great family supporter and very strong at that. His confidence in life was unparalleled. He was a 'he man' according to his little kids. And he stood up for all of them. The fourth girl was at school with her scholarship which was the major main stay of the house. A tower of hope.

The little house we had needed yearly maintenance which was a great burden to all families. It was here the girl proved a boon by providing her scholarship money to get the house redone all the years. She was followed by six more children, four girls with two boys thrown in. The fifth girl was pulled out of school and sent to a tiles factgory to add to the family kitty as my eldest son fell badly sick needing extensive treatment. That was the end of her education. The scholarship girl went on to get a government job and she helped all the rest settle down in life and got all of them married too including hereself. I have difficulty in breathing as I am bed ridden now. Feeding all of them to grow big and loving them all through was an enjoyable work which was the relaxation and satisfaction of life.

The loving husband stood his ground all through in supporting the family asx much as he could and after his heroic job at that departed in good time, just faded away after a long term of work, working till his last day in llife and doing everything for the family and took leave of this world to a massive heart attack which could not be deciphered until after his death. That was common among the poor people of the earlier period as they all had first back pain, then chest pain, followed by pain in the shoulders and hands and again severe chest pain followed by death. No body ever checked what was the pain and it was considerd below decorum to say 'I feel pain' and true to his greatness, he never said it. Our children gave us their love throuogh and through and that made our lives worth. But as time went by and as the children grew into bigger people and acquired their own little families, their love, we doubted, started to be come slightly less, or less and less, which was a feeling which made us think, living in this world is almostg enough. Then was the time, the love of Jesus, St. Mary and Joseph, that loving Holy Family started giving me their love which was slowly replacing the love from my children. I am breathless now. I can't write too much now, but shall continue later.

The village city centre..The Angadi..!

The national high way is a small constriction at the Angaadi entry area when it enters from the south passing the 'Sathram' a place for all the poor on the right. The sathram had been far back during the time of the Maharajas who were very kind to their subjects. They also made several Stone blocks on head high pedestals for helping the head load carriers to unload their heavy loads which they carried on their heads in olden days, so that they could rest a while and then proceed on their long walks. Those were the times of old. The 'athani's are long gone. The sathram was there upto thirty years back which is now gone. No body knows of the disappearance of such things. They just disappear in time. The entry is constricted by the old buildings with tile roofs on both sides and the little box shops attached to them. The drivers of buses and hig vehicles have to be careful not to take away the tiles from the little box shop. The drivers were experts, so such incidents were rare and the vehicles were always careful in road crossings.

Once it passed the central lamp post, the buses stopped on the left to help passengers to alight and to enter. On the same side was a large grocery shop which had a huge verandah which allowed everybody to wait there while they awaited their buses. This was the old style when the shop owners considered their customers as well as those who passed the place greatly and honourably. (Not any , now no shop owners considers the passers by, the whole area volume is considered and kept for the shop with glass coverings or such other new kind of trappings and people other than those exactly came to individual shops are kept out by all means).

On one side was a cobbler who polished the foot wear and made leather chappals and shoes in his spare time. He also did assorted other works as mending old foot wear and ladies bags. Gents in those days never carried any bags. Only elderly, only some of them, carried a leather purse which was local made. He made that too, with a long leather binding tag.

The cobbler sat with his cobblers box full of instruments and his twine and pins, nails and top pins, leather and other attachments for various items he made or repaired. He sat near the dirty waste canal and suffered the stench. Luckily he was unaware of the stench or he had no other go. I never asked him. No body else, I knew, did. Every body thought it is his way of finding his livelyhood and all liked him to be there as it was very convenient to find him just before getting into the bus or when one is in the angaadi (the market, as it was known then) (The word shopping complex etc. were unhead of in those days).

Once in a while I got my leather footwear polished by him and it was a real jolly thing to see him doing it. First rubbing out the dust with his sharp brush. Then applying polish and some kind of while cream on the leather portions. Applying another sharp brush on the cream and polish. Once that was over he applied another smooth brush and then put the two chappals at my feet and looked at me for his little charge for polishing it. It was fifty paise in those days. Several such polishings and a few pairs of chappals or shoes which he made and sold made his day. That was his simple way of living.

Slowly the ready made shoes and chappals started coming in the large town of Trichur nearby and the shops displaying them always attracted the young to it which made the old people ruminate sadly that the 'The old cobbler's time is about to end, he, now, will have to find some other job'.

This proved true before long, and now the village cobbler is gone. The grocery shop gave place to many to use its verandah transformed into a 'super market' and lost the verandah. The bus stop itself moved a furlong further due to extreme traffic congestion. It is now after the cuppola. The cuppola itself has its own history. As the chief diety of the local church is venerated here. He is angel, St. Raphael, the protector and co-traveller of passengers who called on him.

The shoe shops of the Trichur Town, which is the big city grew in style and fashion! And that was the end of an era...!

The Hair Cut....!

The Hair Cut..!

On a free day in Chennai, Rajan and Babu, father and son went for a hair cut. It was a hair cut for Rajan only, but Babu, his son was taking him. This ceremony was old time's sake. There were times they went for a hair cut in the Delhi's Lodi Colony, Meher Chand Market to the Sarojini Nagar's Pillanji, all taken as a leisure trip to talk and be together.

At Lodi Colony of Delhi and the Pillanji of Sarojini Nagar, Rajan used to pay, but now in the Chennai shop, it was Babu's turn to pay. There was not much of a ceremony in any of the places for hair cuts, which is usually called by the people of the places as simply 'Cutting'. It is customary for male members to go for cutting on holidays if the hair has become too much. Ladies in their society never had that necessity of going for cutting, as long hair is always considered to be a lady's charm.

Both Rajan and Babu walked in the hot sun to traverse the half kilometer to the shop on the main highway where among a cluster of shops was the little Hair cutting shop wth a huge painted sign “K K PROPERTIES”. The sign board did not mean any thing as far as the work in the shop is concerned, as this was a people oriented work where only the nearby residents came by searching for the particular shop where it was available, regardless of the board.

The chairs were old but good and the humble professional at the knife was very inviting as it is, in all small shops. Getting inside the shop was great as there was shade in the shop.Coming from the scorching sun outside, it will soothe one like air conditioning. A small overhead fan will cool you down. The barber wished Rajan and Babu and showed Rajan to the empty revolving chair with its high pedestal and foot pedal. There was only one cutter available and hence it was Rajan in the chair first. Saravanan, the cutter straight away went work with his scissors ly and silently. Babu, the son paid for the cut once the cut was over and said he did not need a cut. There was a few times, Rajan remembered that he and his son used to get a cut together. Now, that is being changed. Only Rajan needed a cut, not his son as he had it sometime recently only.

Rajan was lost in thought. When he was young, he used to take Babu a little boy, in those days, for the cut. Then only he had to have the cut and they went together to he cutting shop on Sundays as that was when Rajan was free. Then time went on and they started to be company as his son was growing up. They spoke of umpteen number of things under the sun and going to and from the hair cut shops both in Lodi Colony and Sarojini Nagar.

Then their hair cutting sessions together started repeating in Chennai where they went together for the heck of it. Both could go individually and pay for it, but they enjoyed the company of each other and remembered old times while they could also discuss other interesting family asides. Rajan thought, time is passing too quickly and only he needs the hair cut. The old role has been completely reversed. Now the son is taking the father for a hair cut....!A great drama in time..!