‘From the Tile Factory to the Altar’ “Ottukambaniyilninnu Altharayilekku” by Fr. Davis Kuttikkat..!

Now Reading: (personal)

‘From the Tile Factory to the Altar’ “Ottukambaniyilninnu Altharayilekku” by

Fr. Davis Kuttikkat..!

Devassy Chettan was locvingly called 'Dessiettan'.  An elder brother is always addressed as Ettan in Malayalam.  Nd Dessiettan was the way we little children around him always addressed him in the times of old.  Then the set up was a School where we were twelve to fourteen children around the big boy Dessiettan, spic and span in charming white dothi (Mundu) and white shirt.  Always ready to help any of us in need and when not helping us, would be doing some other serious errand from the Head Maser Manager of the School. That was Dessiettan in those days.  We children never knew why he was there or what his role was as were there to study well and in English medium.

The book in hand was about him, sort of a biography-cum-auto biography.

There are many books one read, but when a book enthuse us or help us to lead our life the purity’s way, one will quickly feel it.  One such book is the autobiographical book written by Fr. Davis Kuttikkat.  From time to time we all hear about the divine call to some one or the other in our surroundings among our friends or relatives.  Then they go for a pre-Seminary period, a Seminary period coupled with both general studies and theology and assorted studies and at last come out as fresh young priests.  All that interest us, enthuse us to an extent, no doubt.

But Fr. Davis’  story is different.   When one reads it he will be cleansed of his sins.  In another way to say is it will enthuse any one in the Christian way to live a better Christian life. Fr. Davis was called by God directly from childhood.  He had seen God in the eyes of his parents who used to make ardent prayer at the little prayer stand at home and it was common in the previous decades for all in the families in Kerala, to get together for the family prayer.  Also he was advised by his mother to live in purity and simplicity which he took to heart in those little years when the family was in utter poverty and in turmoil to make both ends meet.

His eldest brother who was looking after the household (after the death of his father) put him in various jobs from bonded labour to hard work in other companies including his job in the Tile Factory where he met with Father Jenesius as his says, being the leader of the Catholic Labour Association.  That leadership sat with him for a while as he was a very very devoted Catholic Prayer warrior without knowing it himself.  The Father enthused him so much he approached him to become a priest.  The Good Father gave him a letter to meet the Head Master cum Manager of a would be great School called St. Joseph’s Model Boys School of Thrissur where we met.

We were all like the pebbles in a turbulent river, without knowing it, and rolled over and over again, all of us!  We met again after a while in Thrissur me back to my household and studying for Pre Degree when Dessiettan in his usual spic and span white, with his unfailing smile, enquiring of me and my situation.  Offering to help me to get one concession or the other he took me through various organizations, guided me with the concerned application form filling and also coming with me to meet the heads of the organizations most of whom he knew personally. Then again we rolled on and I was thrown over to Delhi after trying a few other jobs and I lost contact with Dessiettan for a while.  I came home once in an year and at times met Dear Dessiettan at a bus stop or a busy intersection in a priestly cassock, and I raised the address to Brother Davis.  Then I heard he became a priest and congratulated him for that without knowing the pains he had taken, the rolls he had taken as a rolling stone in a turbulent river.

Now he had become Father Davis Kuttikkat.  Great to say that a congratulate him.  But when we heard the story of his pains and troubles, the bottle necks he had to pass through, many of them put in front of him by the Church authorities themselves, many a time not knowing the resilience and perseverance of Father Davis Kuttikkat.  For  knowing all that one has to read the bio-auto-biographical he has published in the name of ‘Ottukambaniyil Ninnu Altharayilekku’ (From the Tile Factory to the Altar) in Malayalam (for the time being until its English version comes out).

A Rainy Morning in Enamavu...!

The early morning in August 9 was really wet! The little ford on the side of our house gurgled continuously.  The water bird came early and was sitting on the verge of the ford in anticipation of the fish coming in the gushing waters.  The sky’s portent was for impending rain. 

The internet had said ‘Namasthe’ the day before.  Every time it happened when the rain hardened.  Once the net goes of the next item on the list is the TV which went off along with last evening’s severe thunder which was followed by heavy rain.  The heavy rain was continued on to the early morning with light rain and occasional spurt of heavy down pours.  However, the rain had stopped in the morning.  So the day break was good ! 

At day break the electricity had returned.  But that has not helped the TV transmissions which was still missing.  The news the day before were not good as several parts of Kerala was under water and more of rain was pouring in.  This had created anxiety to run to the TV to find out the latest hoping to hear the situation is improving.  Instead, our own TV has become detached now.  A check up on the telephones said the boosting towers do not have enough strength or no strength at all.  Now the picture is complete with the rain restarting.  The rain started with precision at 9 am as if a worker comes on the morning and starting work..!

All are well that ends well.  This is a time to think and return to the old times.  The books left to read, the news paper which has come of all odds bringing the news around all are to be taken up now.

There are two books collected from the Thrissur Public Library,  ‘The Hound of Baskervilles’and the Úprooting the Pumpkin’ both new books which have been selected as they are new books and new prints.  Both smelled good and delicious to the say the least!  The new prints have a fragrance of the ghee in the ink they use coupled with the freshness of the paper.  All make it mesmerising as one think of the childhood textbooks, which were bought at the beginning of the new classes.  In those days, once the new book is in hand, first thing done was opening it for the beauty of the print and then smelling it to see the fragrance they brought.  Then they were covered with good calendar papers or brown paper with great love as they are to be used all through the year!  Once that is done, then labelling is an art, either putting up small bits of white paper with the name, class, subject and name of school etc. ware neatly written in the best of hand possible.  These label slips are pasted with great care either on the top right corner or in the centre.  All these details are again repeated in the first inner page top right again, for fear, if ever the front cover is not seen or lost, then the book should have some details on the inner side. 

Many a times, no body else looked at it except the original user, but all of us got a feeling of doing it to the full required extent by doing all that.  The books generally were handled with great care and kept without any contact with water or other dirt regardless of the rain and other situations.  One may get wet in rain or slanting winds but not the books.  That was the care we gave in those days.  The books smelled good and remained fresh may be till the middle of the year and slowly they lost the feel of freshness and the fragrance of the newness through constant opening and closing which is a must in deep studies.  But nonetheless, they remained clean and neat by the upkeep.  Now that the new gadgets have come, books, book-reading and writing has become scant.  Even people go for a song or write up on the G-phone, instead of reading from a book or a sheet of paper with the song duly copy written.

Now the situation is suddenly reminding one to return to the times of old, as all the phones and TV are put to no use by the flood like situation and incessant rains.  The gurgle of the ford and the caressing rain with its drumming on the tin roof on the shed all make  musical orchestra.  All other sounds are off as electricity has failed ! There are umpteen number of reports in the only newspaper available in the morning, which means it will be a while when the power returned to activate the TV or any other sound making instruments.  In these circumstances, one can only read or write as one wished, nothing else!  The roads and bylanes also get water puddles and at times overflowing water which is a must watch and drive or drivers in the rain.  The one things missing of course is the sound of the frogs which used to be in plenty and making music in the times of old.  Where have they disappeared all on a sudden we don’t know. 

Yesterday was the anniversary of the floods of last year and the sudden spurt in rain and fury of the wind gusts have made all to wonder whether the flood itself has decided to return on the exact date!  We all hoped it is not so, but only a reminder.  We are all now waiting for the weather to improve and the weatherman to tell us all will be well soon.

The unbridled thoughts. 'Palavicharangal'

Most of the unbridled thoughts occur during the morning mass or at the time of the evening prayers. These are the two times when mind becomes peaceful and at rest. Once at peace, the mind enjoys running away to the wild World of thoughts and possibilities.
The fragrance of frankincense sends it off to Yemen whose Capital Sana is said to be immersed in the fragrance! May be true. Whatever, the Altar boy starts reading the Letter of the Apostle. The Mike always is at its lowest this time. If ever it is ok, then the little boy does not keep his face near and makes it difficult to understand. If all these are good, it is my turn to take to my own thoughts of nothing and miss out the whole thing!
The priest pull us back by the heavy voice in which he exhorts the Holy Bible! Then is prayers for mercy and forgiveness which we avidly reply and the forgiveness is given.  Once forgiven, the mind is such a great master it takes on its tour again to the various life events I had come through and also how best I could improve upon it... personal, political, official, village life, city life, old age life...all come to mind... endlessly.
Then the altar boy brings me to rapt attention by jingling his little bell with its sheer sound. The Heart of the mass take place now and all are in deep prayers. We all have needs and wants which we all place in front of Jesus. ..!   

The mass continues with prayers for one and all in the world in which we the repentant sinners come at the last. No harm. It is like a train. W are connected. Once those long prayers are over, the Holy Communion is served for those who have taken confession and prepared for it!
Then comes the last Blessings and the awesome statement thanking God and continuing to state 'I don't know, if I will come or not for another Mass' .

Once that statement is over we come back to the everyday reality. Till now we enjoyed the most peaceful time of our life in every day life! 

A ride on the two wheeler scooter after a long time!

A ride on the two wheeler scooter after a long time!

The ride was to accompany a friend to hospital in Kelambakam.  The village we are in is called Kazhipattur from where it is easy to reach in fifteen minutes by car.  But as my friend thought it wise to ride his scooter I had but no option but to accompany him behind.  I had been riding a scooter a long time but had discontinued to do so minding my age after sixties and the increase in traffic in South Chennai and else where in south of India.  All of a sudden the increase in traffic could have gone to cars and four wheelers, but the of and  on increase in fuel prices keep the young and young at hear to the two wheelers., either scooter or motor cycles of which umpteen number are available in the market.

Always, when a ride on a two wheeler is undertaken the main thought is it is to a near by place.  That is right.  But the places one will pass through in a ride is uninteresting from time to time.  The OMR road which we have to cover, even for a short distance, is not very safe considering the huge vehicles and plethora of four wheelers and the ubiquitous water tankers coupled with huge cement mixers and other kinds of vehicles on the road.  Most of the vehicles, including the transport buses ply at a good speed and one has to be doubly careful in manoeuvring the roads here. We started off from the little housing complex jumping the usual humps and little bye-lane which has its own muddy areas due the people on the side of the road houses, pouring used water on to the road as a matter of custom.  I have seen this in many other places too, where people instead of finding a way of using the used up water in the households throw it on the roads.  By this the road is not only wet but also collet puddles of dirty water in places where the road is broken.

Once on the main OMR we have to take a left and again a U-turn to be on the route to the Chettinadu Hospital complex.  Taking a U-turn on a busy OMR road on the peak hours are a delicate matter for any one but when you are on  two wheeler you are covered only on the head and the rest of the body does not have any defence to any vehicle.  The cars, trucks and mini buses whiz past us when we wait for the U-turn as the vehicles passing on the right side has to subside for us to cross over into that lane.  Once that done, now is the time to be prayerful, as the vehicles behind us have to pass by us, especially cars and others who are all in a great hurry.  My friend being good at the riding, I was comparably safe, but can’t see his rear view mirror and I did not dare to look back for fear of losing balance or making my friend lose his balance.  I delicately hung on to him and kept saying my prayers.  At times he over took one vehicle or two as they were slowing down, and many on our right side over took us and went past.  In a matter of ten-twelve minutes we were at the entry gate of the Chettinadu Hospital Complex where again we have to wait to cross over to our right side to go into the Hospital Compled road.  Here we drive on the left of the road and for any buildings or institutions, have to cross over the opposite side of the road which is used by drivers on the opposite direction.  For this we waited for a time the road became a bit free and did it with our usual elan and went past the gate to the Complex.  By this time, I was getting really scooter born and my fear of the road started lessening.  The Hospital had put up a number of road block boards on the road on the left and right intermittently, so that we had to drive in a zig-zag fashion.  This was new in the Hospital as earlier it was very straight and had no hindrance. 

Once that test was over, we took a left turn and arrived at the parking lot where scooters and two wheelers had a huge parking along with cars.  We parked the Scooter, kept one helmet in the dicky of the scooter and held one in my hand as the scooter can take only one helmet in its dicky at a time.   Since the helmets are made compulsory in Chennai, Tamil Nadu we cannot lose it either.  Chennai Chettinadu Hospital is a great place to be in and we got in and got our required medical help in time for my friend and were back on the Scooter in half an hour. 

We rode back and now I was getting used to the road and was getting off my ride-fear.  I thought, a ride is after all a nice thing.  I remembered my thing of old when I used to drive my Priya scooter o the road of Delhi where the Haryanvi drivers used to be very considerate of the two wheeler road users.  Those were good times, when every driver was generally good to each other with concern for life and limb.   The evening air after the rains passed through the helmet visers with a boo-boo sound and we were fast back to our bye-lane and into our housing complex.  That was an afternoon ride in Chennai on a two wheeler scooter in mid-July!

A local bus ride..!

Walking from the house to the bus stop is a joy. But will take more time.  One has to by pass the wet little by lanes which are slippery in the rain of June.  The side houses on either side of the by lanes are small but beautiful.  But not spacious as all small houses.  Once the main tarred road is sighted the attack of dust clouds raised by the passing trucks and cars will cover the walking folk.   If it is raining, it will be red mud which will be the threat.  This is not for no reason.  We have a pipe line which has been put after cutting out the good road well spread with good black bitumen.  Once the pipe line is put in place no body usually cares to re-do the tarring.  It will take some time to do it with all the procedures and permissions completed.

The bus stop is a small covered and concretised structure with a cement bench. For the elderly it is a solace as one would definitely like to sit away from the traffic moving so fast, rubbing the sides of the road users.  The bus comes in great speed and screeches to a halt to pick me up and the conductor gives his customary "Weisse..." which means 'Right'.  As soon as I put hold on the handle bar of the gate the bus starts to move and by the time I get into a seat the bus has picked up speed.  Now in the seat the sight is really soothing and enjoyable.  Any one travelling in Thrissur know that.  Either side of the road is good houses with greeneries and greeneries all over. 

The road is good at places, bad at places, but all along is narrow.  So the driver has to be good at his art of swinging and swerving, turning and cutting etc.  Out right, he has to use his unofficial air horn to frighten away the small vehicles coming in front of him.  It is not that he has to scare away all, most of them are dead scared and give way as soon as the bus is sighted in the rear view mirror, but there are some who come from outside and some youngsters who are new drivers ..!  They do not know the set up going on and fall prey to the driver's horn.  Once in a while there would be such a vehicle.  The buses are always on their fittest as they have to pull fast to overtake and manovure at small spaces.

All along, a cool breeze passing through make one feel the joy of a bus ride as the poor driver takes away the pain of driving and the riders are left at peace to sight seeing or day dreaming all through.  People get in and get out, both men and women, many a time carrying little children.  The conductor see to it that people get in without any hurt and once settled, approaches and collects his fare.  There are two pieces of beautiful green field roads, one at Kanjany and another at Chettupuzha.  Once the famous Chettupuzha is over the next suburb of Thrissur town city is there called Olari which is adorned by the famous St. Therese church and a famous temple nearby.  Both are great in their own ways and are a joy to see on each trip. First come the church of Little Therese of Lieux and then comes the  temple.  The Chettupuzha has a little river in it which has dwindled with time but was a deep canal earlier in the times past.  Once upon a time there was a serious accident in that river when it was in spate   in the  Onam festival time, in which a number of Onam clelebrants and a good number of the other travellers in the bus had to lose their lives.  It was told that the driver of the bus was a good natured fellow and the owners of the bus specially treated him with a great Onam meal, which is customary.  As ill luck would have it, at that particular time, near the river the bus lost its brake and that was it!  The bus full of passengers plunged into the river in spate and many could not swim into safety.  The one single story apart there never had been any ill incidents or accidents on that road.

After Olari, the traffic will steadily increase and the ride willstill be enjoyable, but a tard slower.  Once can see around the beautiful houses and Government offices of Hospitals around, most of them very old  or be in their own world either listening to music which many of drivers would play in their good music boxes for the benefit of the travellers, but not in all buses.  By now, in my trip, we got a good rain and all had to put down their shutters.  This is most uninteresting time inside the bus.  The passing air will stop and one can't see much to the outside.  At times the customers will lose their designated or intended stops also.  Within this confusion we approached the 'West Fort' which is a bus stop only.  There was a Fort on the West side of the city at one time, but till date I have not seen that Fort. Now have to search for it.  By now the sides of the road is full of all sorts of shops and businesses of the city town of Thrissur and the bus crawls with traffic to approach the famous 'Vadakkumnathan Temple'which is in the centre of the Town Thrissur!  I disembark and my ride is over. 

Starting Trouble on a Humid Morning in Chennai

The starting trouble on a humid morning. 

The mornings are always a time of starting trouble, either it is for men or it is for vehicles.  The old times vehicles had that at a higher rate.  It was an effort to put into life an old car or truck in those days.  Always there were more than one person involved in starting a vehicle then.  The driver always used to have a helper who helped to turn a handle vigorously and turn the fan inside the engine from the front, while the real hero, the driver used to sit in and accelerate until the engine started to catch up and rev on its own.  As soon as the fire starts the handle turner pulled back the handle, swiped the sweat on his brows and took a deep sigh of relief.  Next he put the handle back inside the vehicle and either waited to see the driver revved up for a while to heat the engine and then sat in.  

Now that was about old vehicles.  Old people are almost the same, but generally, do not need any helper!  Getting up is generally without effort as long as one is in village areas where birds wake up almost every body in the morning.  But waking won’t do.  One has to get moving. That is the challenge.  First one says all the prayers one can remember.  Then sit up and get up.  This is to move and see if the morning news paper has arrived!  If it has not come, one an go to bed again.  But as it is the morning paper very rarely make a miss and it is there at the door.  One avidly grabs the paper and open the pages quickly flipping away the first couple of pages of mere trade in the form of full page advertisements.  These days, there are prompting words like “FREE, FREE’,  ONLY FOR TODAY, ONLY FOR THESE ..FEW…DAYS,  YOU SAVE…SO MUCH’ etc., etc.  Once the news comes the big headings with more ink is gone through quickly to see that the world is on its axis properly turning and then slowly one strains ones eyes for the smaller inked stuff !  By the time a cup of tea is made available by who so ever is in the house hold and that triggers the day!

The effect of tea is now a real winner after cigarettes and desi cigarettes called beedis are a strict ‘no, no’ due to their cancer properties well known and advertised these days.  All that is good and fine but the heat of the weather chart make one drowsy in Chennai this time of the year.  A much wanted rain does not come down and the clouds are going hay wire hither and thither to rain or flood in places where it is not expected.  What ever happened to climate, every body wonders! But one has to suffer it.  No one can do anything single handed.  As such has to suffer the vagaries of the extremes.  One hastens to take a morning walk early as before long it is going to be too hot to walk outside.  Even when there is a cloud, still the hot winds from the west make it uninteresting outside in Chennai.  So it is good to be indoors after the morning walk or reaching office if it can be so done.  At least until after some welcome rain which is expected in a week or two.

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My Mother had a Tail...!

                                                   

                                                           My Mother Had a Tail…!

             That is true.  The tail was pure cotton white.  Me and my siblings loved this tail as it was a convenient towel for us to wipe our hands whenever needed.  Most of the mothers in other houses also had tails.   Those were the times of old.  Mothers in old Kerala had different ways of dressing up.  Mothers of different religions dressed up differently.  Among these, we loved our mother’s tails the best for its convenience.     Life was simple and cool without TV, Radio, Inter net, IPod and Lap tops. Most of the transport was by bullock carts.  Faster modes of travels were rarely performed by the local folk.     Fathers were busy finding out the daily bread for their children. Mothers were busy keeping home and preparing food for the children from time to time.

           I was a little boy of six or seven at that time as I recall now.  Houses were small and in the limited number of rooms, the smell of any recipe prepared in the kitchen wafted in quickly.  The most attractive was the smell of pappads being fried in pure coconut oil.  Such a smell pulled us children to the kitchen where mother will be frying them and we conveniently appeared behind, located the vessel in which she was putting the fried pappads, took one and left.  Mother always noticed this and grimaced. At times she said “Ok, ok, you have it, but will get only less than what you take now”.  But she never considered it while serving.  She served us all equally again.  At times she smilingly said while serving: “I really need not serve you again.”  She endeared us all to her by that simple but loving statement.  Such actions repeated at times with curries or other fried items which become irresistible to us children.  At those times, we have to wash our hands and we are in a hurry to rush out to play. That is when ‘The Mom’s tail’ became a convenience.  We wiped our hands on the tail and ran out to play out side. 

             The Christian mothers only had the tails as I noticed.  Till the last ten years or so, I had seen such mothers.  But now the fashion in dressing has caught up and mostly I see mothers have lost their tails and all have shifted to sarees or other forms of dress.  Even some mothers now look like Dads in Men’s kind of ware.  Their children won’t naturally get this convenience.   And some of the mothers are not fully house bound as the mothers of old.  Many new mothers move far and wide and at times are away from their children which creates great love loss to such kids. 

              In our times the mothers were always at home and we could never think of a house without a mom waiting for us with some good food and smiling face when we returned from school, college or office.  They were a contented lot.  Movements far and wide were less.  Families were compact, earned less but lived happily.  It made us urge for more and better facilities and we as children were encouraged to learn with all our might.   The schools by the Christian sisters and monasteries all over Kerala really helped us upwards with the free education for which those Catholic Sisters, Brothers and Fathers dedicated themselves.  Then there was the dedicated teachers mostly and many of them considered any child in the class as their own children.   Such situation is fast changing and education is slowly becoming a less dedicated area and profession.

            We came running home from schools and as soon as we enter the command generally is “first go and wash your hands and feet! That included the face also.  We did it quickly and came running in to Mom for any kind of food available at home.  That is when we wiped our hands and face on her tail.  She never prohibited us from doing so which endeared us to her.  These things could happen in only lower middle or poor families.  In richer families also our friends had better looking mothers in same sort of dress very white and clean.  And generally unsoiled.  But their children (who are our friends) were not allowed to wipe on their tails, lest their cloth tails are soiled.  We had no such bar.  Mom had her own way of duping us.  She told us from time to time “Don’t do it, that is the only ‘mundu’ .  Don’t soil my cloth by all of your wiping and sweeping(the long white cloth used by Christian mothers of Kerala along with a white top called ‘kuppaayam’and another over cover cloth called ‘neriyathu’ which is a very nice light white cloth), that is my only Cloth which I have for Sunday Church.  But we always knew, that she had a fresh set of cloth in her mother’s cloth box (‘mundum petti’) a special box of the mothers which were kept in most simple Christian households).  

Those were the times in which we enjoyed life a lot and were much more happy with far less amenities.  Now, that happiness is gone along with those lovely parents. Now most of the families are trying to rediscover that happiness again through other endearing methods!