Being More American Than Most Americans

In the old days, lots of Keralites used to go abroad looking for better opportunities. (They still do even when we have more opportunities at home these days.) 2 or 3 decades back, there was the trend of typically Christian girls, training to be nurses and then going to the USA. Then they come back and get married to someone from Kerala and then take him along soon after and they probably settle there.

First time I heard of this was when I was a small kid. A close friend of my dad is married to a nurse. She first went to the USA and then got the papers all ready and was going to take her husband abroad. Apparently, this was big event then. So his colleagues decide to give him a send off. They hire a van to see him off at the airport. I was the only kid in the party. Don't remember if I was even 5 years old. I didn't have politics then, so I was only glad to go along for this. Shucks, if somebody gave me USA on a platter then, I would have tied a string to its leg and dragged it around happily for days. The journey to the airport was nice. As usual, I get a side seat and enjoy the views. The elders made a racket joking, singing and shouting as they are inclined to do on these kinds of occassions. We get to the airport and I get to see an airplane close for the first time, sitting down on the ground. It made an awful noise though. I have something to think and to talk about to people for a life time. Most folks haven't seen one this close, I was sure about that. After the bird has flown, we go back. We stop at a lot of tea shops for refreshment on the way back. The noise slowly subsides as we stop for more and more refreshments, as I remember it.

.....

I don't know why my mother used to joke about this trip to her friends and drag my name in to it every time she talked about it. The story goes like this.

After the trip, we get home and my mother ask my dad if he was drinking toddy. He innocently ask mother, 'What toddy?'. So mother ask me if we went in to any toddy shops. I say no. She ask if we stopped for tea while on the journey. I say yes! She ask me if the walls of the tea shop had white painted wooden screens in them. I say, 'Yes!'. And my mother and her friends laugh.

(in those days, those white painted wooden screens were a fixture of toddy shops) 

 Years goes by. My dad's friend visit Kerala now and then. He brings presents for his relatives and friends. I remember he bringing me dress and chocolate. (I still didn't have politics then!) More years go by and I slowly become political. So when he comes for a visit, I like arguing with him I suppose he was mostly egging me on but I suspect he was at least a little being more American than most Americans. We argue about India and America. I still remember the time he acted out how our then PM went to the USA to seek aid. To beg, in his view.

I don't know how I replied to that but I don't forget him acting it out I was not angry at him and laughed at his acting. I must have been in my early 30's then. More time pass by. Last time he was here, I was in a better position for our argument. And I am getting better with saying things in that dry tone and straight face, ya know. This time I thought I was getting him unsettled. He was trying to hit below the belt and his wife was getting concerned and trying to cool things off in a diplomatic way. Our families were around watching. I didn't resent the old man. I could still believe he was playing. So at a point I tell him that I am leaving the argument because I can't go beyond a limit and laughs. (I call him uncle) He suddenly beam and ask me to step close. Says, 'Come here. Let me hug you!'.

Some American thing, this real hugs. I am not much in to those but I sacrifice my fine feelings and step forward. All is well.

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I can't stop this without stating that, he bought a property in Kerala and is planning to retire here I should ask him next why retire to the 3rd world India when he is an American, dash it. I am sure he will tell something about sentiments for the good old Kerala. 

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 If you are interested to read a little more about toddy shops in Kerala, search for 'the toddy odyssey'. An article that I came across about these shops. I was researching to see if the white painted wooden screens still were there. I think it is well written.
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(I posted a copy of this in the other site too. This is for the occasional visitor that is not a member of the other site)

A Coconut Story

In my state, coconut trees and coconuts play a very important role in our daily lives. Our state derives its name from coconut trees. State is named Kerala(m), which means the land of coconut trees. We use the coconuts in many of our dishes, we need its oil on a daily basis for cooking and even for applying on the hair before taking bath. Toddy can be tapped from coconut trees. etc etc. It is hard to see a property without coconut trees here, especially in the villages.

There is a people that traditionally do the harvesting of the coconuts. The caste is known as the Paravans here. Before anyone gets excited about the caste system of India, note that just because these people traditionally did this work doesn't mean they are forced to do it. Like everyone else, they can pursue any career they like. And as the state and country was getting more prosperous, that is exactly what happened. Now we don't have enough people to harvest the coconuts and it is becoming a problem.

Recently there were some tree climbing aids invented so that ordinary people could climb their coconut trees to pick the nuts. (You can search online and see some videos where you can see even small kids climbing the trees with ease, as if walking up steps) The government started some programs where they trained batches of youth in climbing the trees and taking care of the harvesting, pest control etc. So that you can call a number and someone come on a 2 wheeler to your place and harvest your trees, just like that. It is still not all that popular in villages yet.

We had a man that traditionally climbed our trees. R was a man that did very little talking. Slightly stooped, he would come with his bamboo ladder - Just one long pole of bamboo with the small branches trimmed where he can put his foot. It will have 2 horn like projections towards the top to prevent slipping from the c. tree - on his shoulder, with a ring made of coir hanging from one end of this ladder. He would be wearing only a 'work'  towel around his waist and will have his long handled knife hanging from a shoulder, down his back. This man always looked the same all my life. Always chewing pan, with a trace of smile on his face. When R went in to retirement, his son B took over. He generally looked the traditional climber except he didn't have the sunny outlook and professionalism his father had. B liked his toddy or even more potent drinks. He was not regular either. Sometimes you don't see him for many weeks and you would be worrying about the coconuts getting dry and falling down before you see him again. (It is said that B likes temple festivals where they bring elephants. So he goes along to cut palm fronds for the elephants to eat)

That much for background.

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One of those mornings, I wake up around 7 am. I go to the kitchen for my morning cup of  black coffee. There I see my mother and Sister-in-Law standing transfixed, looking out the window to the north. I follow the gaze and see only our neighbor. (The neighbors are a retired couple living on our north side.)I start getting the coffee and mixing sugar and ask what's up. They hiss 'Shhhh! Look!'


I look. I see our neighbor now walking around a coconut tree, occasionally looking up. I see him suddenly taking a step to the side and a coconut falling close to him. Now I watch closely. It appears that our n. is talking to someone, who is not yet in the picture. As the n. is looking up and apparently talking to someone there, I look up. And I see B sitting atop the c. tree, some 50 ft up. I find it odd that he is sitting on the fronds on top, where he doesn't need to climb for his work. And I find it odd that this close supervision is not needed for this activity and it is silly standing right under a tree which is being harvested. No one in his right frame of mind want one of the coconuts falling on top of his own coconut. I could use some enlightenment here and I proceed to get it. After some shrewd questioning, I gather that,
1. Neighbor was desperately looking for someone to pick the c. for him
2. He somehow got hold of B in the morning and enticed him to work for him first thing in the morning.
3. Most importantly, now it seems B was very much under the influence.
4. That B is now some 30 minutes in to his roosting act.


So I get the posish. The sunshine is getting strong. B on top doesn't respond to his supervisor down below. B might even be drowsing. The neighbor is worried. If B falls down and break something, he will be in some trouble. (There is no well defined consequences but n. will be expected to compensate for treatment etc)


We watch. After minutes of inactivity, we see B chopping down something within reach every now and then. In between we see our neighbor going in to the house to confer with his wife and coming back again. She is a dominating type of woman but strangely, she doesn't come out to handle this particular situation. My people think if there was one situation that called for strong leadership, this was it and where is the woman to save the day?! I remark dryly that, this is one situation where personality is not going to work and our neighbor lady knows it. Not easy to intimidate someone who appears to be stoned, sitting 50 feet up where he is not likely to hear the commanding voice issuing from down below like that. Our neighbor in between move as if to come to our house to ask what to do but he still goes back to walking around the c. tree looking up, making gestures and going in to the house again. We are also worried but there is not a lot that can be done. We think about suggesting calling the Fire fighting department because they are known to save people from difficult situations like these.


Anyway, after nearly an hour or so of this  show, B decides a change of scene is in order. So he initiates maneuvers that will eventually take him down to terra firma. We hold our breath. After agonizing seconds, he is in a position to move vertically down. He starts slowly moving. Then towards the middle he stops. We wonder if he again decided to take a nap or if he is tired and just taking a rest. I help things along by suggesting may be he is planning to climb back up again to take something which he left behind. But he starts the downward journey again and finally land safely. Our n. pays him handsomely to prevent him from climbing more trees in this condition and the episode ends well.


I tell my folks that this should be a lesson for them all. I say, under no circumstances, B should be allowed to climb our trees again, especially in the morning when he is likely to be under the influence. We joke about the incidence for days after that.


A few days goes by. Another of those days I wake up late and goes for my coffee. I don't see anyone in the kitchen. What ho. May be busy outside doing this and that. I take my coffee and comes in search of the newspaper. I see the gathering in the front yard. I have a sinking feeling. I look where they are looking. I see the coconut tree and the coconuts/tender coconuts/green fronds and what not scattered around the tree. I look up the tree. I see B sitting on top of the world. Not 50 ft up but still a good 30 ft.
First thing I do is to look around to see if any neighbors are enjoying our predicament. None visible and I thank God for small mercies.


I fume at my folks, saying that they shouldn't have let this happen. Dad says, B looked sober and they decided to let him climb that one small tree as the nuts were falling down dry. That they didn't want to risk the nuts falling on someone's head. Bro and dad were dressed to go out but I said better wait. You people let this happen and go your way only after seeing B down safely. To cut a long story short, eventually B came down  without mishaps after what seemed like eons, and  was paid well to discourage him from climbing more trees right after..

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We still have coconuts falling down for want of harvesters. Sometimes I think I should get one of those machines and climb them myself, to avoid the nuts falling on someone's head.

What The Well Dressed Man Is Wearing

It was the title under which Bertram Wooster once contributed an article to Milady's Boudoir. B.Wooster is a character that is found in some works of P G Wodehouse, where you can't avoid meeting Jeeves, another character. You see, Jeeves and B.Wooster are like Mary and her little lamb. But I digress. Suffice to say, I needed a title for this post and thought this one somewhat covered the topic.

I am not the well dressed man. As I don't have a woman in my life, I don't get nagged about my dress sense. I am one that never bothers to wear pressed shirts or pants, unless it is absolutely necessary. I don't shop for dress when there is a discount or there is a special occasion. I go and buy on a whim. Or I have plan to buy one but it was kept pending because I couldn't find time to go buy it. Last time I bought something was when I was caught in the rain and the shop was close by.

My dress shopping wouldn't take 15 minutes in all. Any delay is typically due to a queue at bill payment. I walk in, and I already have an idea what I am going to buy. The assistant ask me what I am looking for and I say generally, pant piece or shirting etc. I know the shrewd sales assistant will try to follow my gaze and try to take out what I am looking for. So I cleverly avoid looking there again directly. So the s.a starts pulling out stuff and spread them hoping to catch any weakness on my face. I keep what I want in my peripheral vision and says, 'Not this.. That.. NOOO.. other one!..' to the s.a, just to be civil. That is expected of one in these establishments, I suppose. But when I had enough of this game, I ask the s.a to pull out what I wanted in the first place, and says I will take those.

While the s.a is busy measuring, cutting etc, I watch others wasting their time 'shopping'. I marvel at women talking about colors like mauve/almond/peach etc. But then women are a complicated lot. One can understand painters needing to talk about 1001 colors. Mauve my foot! I am one that live very happily with less than 10 colors. Black/White/Brown/Green/Red/Yellow/Blue and may be mixtures of those.

I am out of the shop in about 30 minutes. Now is the time to go to my tailor. There are times I put off visiting him for months, for no reason at all. Mostly I go and fix things up directly after I have bought the clothes.

Now this tailor is another funny character. We go a long way back. I used to go to him when I was a kid in half trousers. I just kept him all along. He is good in stitching pants. In all the years, like 28 years, he has changed his tailoring shop at least a dozen times. He keeps the name same but keeps changing the location. So first I have to locate him by calling him up or asking around, before taking my business to him.

From the moment I walk in, the show goes in predictable ways. He shows genuine pleasant surprise seeing me. After exchanging the pleasantries, he takes the tape and starts measuring. We start bargaining. He says, 1 more inch here? I say half! etc. Then he takes a look at the clothes materials and give his expert opinions. I probably already forgot what I bought in this one hour after buying it. So I ask him not to forget to cut and attach pieces to the bill so that I will recognize it next time. He laughs, says there is no need and he won't forget mine.

Then he pops the all important question. So when do I want it done? I know he will never give it on the agreed date, from my experience so far I ask him to take his own time and tell his date. Only, I should get it when I come to collect. This is something I am particular and he respects that But we still plays along. Now he looks at the calenders on his wall in a dreamy way. All his walls are covered with calenders. I look at his face. He looks on calenders. Then he says a date. I say right ho. And I leave.

As usual, I joke about my visit to the tailor when I get home. Folks ask me why I take the trouble to go to him if I know he is not going to deliver stuff on promised dates? I shrugs. So, days goes by. On the day before I am supposed to get my dress finished, I get a call at home. It would be a surprise if it didn't come. It will be my tailor, regretfully informing me that the work won't be finished on the agreed date because of such and such reasons. If I am attending the call, I will be grinning from ear to ear as soon as I know it is him. But I groan in to the phone and plays along. He says another date. I say okay in a resigned way. If the call was attended by somebody else, as soon as they tell me I had this call from my tailor, I know what the message is

Then after a couple of days, I get one more call from my tailor. Its not the D-Day yet. He says triumphantly that the work is done! There is genuine pride in his voice saying this. He has good reasons. It is earlier than the extended date. So he demands to know when I will be along to pick them up. Now the ball is in my court. I say a date. I might or might not go on the time I mentioned. Finally when I go to collect, if it was late, he says in a sort of accusing way that it was sitting there for days now!

Sometimes I pay him in advance. Sometimes I don't remember to do it in advance. But this had been a play we had been playing for years now. I like the man because, I think he is a good simple man. And I know that if I really needed to get something done in a hurry, I could depend on him to get it done. It has happened that way too.

Last time I saw him, I found he had gone all gray. He still was in his typical half sleeve vest and white dhoti. Smoking his beedi and shirtless. With the half shy smile on his face, as always.

He definitely tried to change with time, having made his card and all. I have one of his cards. So that I can call him up before going next time. He gave it when I complained that his shifting his shop is becoming a headache locating him.

His card says, 'Experts in Ladies & Gents dress making and Curtain works' in addition to the phone number and address.

An Old Fashioned Hair Cut

Evening with winds and the smell of rain in the air. Watchful for a snake that might dash across, who lives in the hole over there. Once on the main road, 40 kilo speed. On the road, people going home after work, those going to the shops to buy stuff.. Wonders if my barbarian will be at his post. He was not there yesterday, even though his shop was 'open'. Tried 3 times yesterday.

Reach the place, put the bike on stand. Lots of youngsters sitting in front of the barbershop. Looks like a crowd. There's 2 wheeler workshop just next to the barbershop. Folks waiting for repairs, air etc. My local mechanic and his official and unofficial apprentices busy. There's some kind of a huge flex board in front of both shops. I can't bother to be going around to look at it again.

A fattish guy reluctantly gets up from the crowd and steps forward. My barbarian. After all, things are not bad. He is there and is free at the moment. Crowd not applicable to his line of work for now. I put the footwear outside, go in and sit on The Chair. One wish one had wings, because the place is not very clean inside. I once asked my barber why ask people to keep their footwear outside since its dirtier inside. He mumbled something about the bloody workshop and people bringing the oiled footprints in.

I like my barber not because he is a master of his art. Unlike other barbers, mine doesn't talk a lot. He grunts and mumbles, if customers try to draw him in on chitchat. He has a stereo but doesn't blare it like the new age barbers. When he plays songs, which is very rare, he has a taste in music matching mine. Very very nice.

He wrap the towel around. He takes a bottle of water and spray my head liberally. Sometimes water comes out. Sometimes not. I think its more of a ritual. I don't care either. He gets to work. I lapse in to a reverie. I am aware of him occasionally lining up his sight between my right ear and skull or trying another angle. He looks first at his image and then look mine, in the eye. I register my grave approval in my eyes. I am being turned left, right etc in between..

**reveries**

Sounds have stopped. Now he drop some powder on my head and try to cut it off the tip of hairs. (I have asked him what he would do if the customer is totally gray. I specifically asked if he was going to use charcoal or some black substance for this part. He mumbled some answers and I let it go at that) More finishing touches.....

............

I wake up with a start when he shakes the towel rather explosively, that was wrapped around me. That is my cue to get out of the chair and hand the money. I obliges. I am happy. No one knows if he is happy. He is not one to show emotions. I say something like 'See ya!' on a cheery note. He grunts.

I step outside in a sunny mood. I feel friendly towards the world. My mechanic nods at me and smiles. I return the favor warmly. What ho! While starting the bike, I take my time to read all the flex boards around. The big one has the life size image of a huge elephant. It (board, not the elephant)says welcome to the land of my village for the elephant King. A name was there but I forgot it now. I smile expansively.

I go home. I like the wind tickling my ears now. I see young girls going after classes, all smiling and chattering. I feel kind towards the world. I see a retired school teacher on his evening walk, walking his pot belly. Very pleasant people, these retired school teachers with pot bellies. He is going for his evening gossip as well. While I go home, I passed the pan shop of Thrillon Chettan ( His name is Thrilochanan. Another word for Lord Shiva. Literally meaning the 3 eyed. But locals, especially kids like the shortened form Thrillon Chettan.. Chettan=Elder brother, or showing some affection, respect) Thr.Chn was sitting in his shop, making beedis and chatting with a couple of golden oldies. He has been sitting like that and making beedis all his life. I have seen him doing this for at least 35 years...I pass my childhood friend's granny on the road. She is walking back from the temple. Very old and stooped. Takes her time walking back to her home which is nearby. Another person satisfied with the world, just like me.....

I get home. My niece asks me if I already got my hair cut. I say, yes!! She says I could have got it done better. Now why didn't I tell the barber to fix such and such? Now, that is one thing I don't do often. I let the man go about his barbaric rituals without interference. Still, I take another look in my reflection before proceeding to the shower. Not bad.

That's about as good as it gets.

Just A Link

http://www.marketoracle.co.uk/Article24747.html

Found this today, and is something that I believe to be happening in many countries these days.