My charming and innocent early days

I was born in a remote village. Kunnackal, in Ernakulum district – today not-so-remote as it has fancier neigbours ubeing just 16 Kms from Kochi International airport. Ofcourse, today, nothing is remote either thanks to the internet and the world is delightfully at hand.Those days, when I grew up, there was no electricity, roads or any infrastructure available.

Our house was perched on a small hill surrounded by lush paddy fields in  the front which partly  covered  the south side as well while coconut and areca nut trees covered the  other part ; the north was surrounded with huge mango and jackfruit trees. I still remember the mangoes which were so very sweet  – and to this day I feel it was the sweetest as is my memory of those days. Years later, I would compare them to the taste that came closest which were but the Alfonse mangoes of Ratnagiri. Similarly, the Jackfruits too were so sweet that I could not find its sweetness  anywhere else. 

As children,  we named each tree with special names like honey, sugar and so on. During the monsoons when heavy winds blew, we rushed to pick those ripe ones which fell  right into baskets we held up with severe competition cropping up amongst us kids on who would net the maximum mangoes. This was  one of  the most interesting games of our childhood. My father had a penchant  for  planting various types of trees in our area. He tried to grow grapes and oranges but could not succeed in that climate. All other fruit bearing plants like coffee, badam, cashew, guava,  etc were also grown. Almost all types of vegetables and pulses were found in our farm. Quite obviously, we did not have any stores nearby. However, we were self-sufficient in managing our provisions except dried chillies and salt. One would be surprised to know that I saw eggs for the first time in Bombay; yes those simple eggs which is such a staple in everyone’s life!!!  We had grown up in such an  innocent environment that nothing was known to us about the world outside including any non-vegetarian foods. I was instructed not  to touch anything but  vegetables and fruits. 

One would be surprised to know that I did not  eat cabbage because in our language, malayalam,  the name starts with egg.  Small baby onions were the only so called vegetables we used to bring from the  outside  market in town. Those days,  my oldest sister, Subhadra and who us siblings called Valliachi,  used to store fried onions with grated coconut and other ingredients for sambar/theeyal. As a six or seven year-old boy, I used to pick up only those red onions and eat it  thinking it was a sweet savoury. And when  it was time for my sister  to grind the masala, she would discover that not a single onion was left. I still remember how  annoyed she used to be and how she cursed me after giving me a severe shouting.  I somehow think today that  this is probably the reason for me to hate onion and garlic. Much later during my Gujarat stay, I was very happy to note that in hotels there, especially the followers of Jain community touched  neither of these. 

Being born after three sisters, I was  truly the pampered one. If I didn’t  get what I wanted, my poor sisters ended up getting punished as it became their job to  serve me all that i desired:).  My father was rather very strict and we got very little  time to interact with him. Only after he left for his office  did  we get the opportunity to  play outside or  climb trees, which I was so incredibly fond of. 

My four years of primary studies in our village school was indeed very exciting. Being a member of the first family of that area, all the responsibility of education was given to the Head Master of that school, who fortunately for us, stayed in our outer house. In the evenings, it became his duty  to  come home to give us extra lessons.  

Those days, we had no exam stress because there were no class exams and all of us were passed and  all of us  automatically graduated to higher classes. This school was about 2/3 kilometres away from our house and we had to pass through green  fertile paddy fields while treading carefully as we walked along the incredibly narrow pathways. And because of this precarious treading, there used to be someone or the other in our family whose duty it became  to hold my shoulders tightly as we navigated our way  or lift me up wherever required so  I didn’t fall into the wet dense fields.  

 After my  primary education here, I went to middle school which was about 8 to 10 Km away along with my sisters and cousin brothers from my father’s family. Being the youngest among them and since my name  Aniyan  also meant younger, I was very happy to go with them, even though they were not thrilled  to take me with them.  The Head Master of the school was Stephen Sir and he too arrived freshly from another town with his newly married wife who was also a teacher. They took a liking to me and often used to take me to their school quarters. I still remember how they placed  me on their knees and gave me sweets, which I very shyly accepted.  The other classmates used to tease me soon after I returned from their quartersv as it was clearly apparent  I was a favourite.  I left that school after completing three years of studies to a high school in a then major town, Muvattupuzha, which was about 23 Kms away.  Walking every day to school and  that too such long distances, through a forest, paddy fields and small streams and rivultets  was not possible. So, my mother requested my grandparents to let me stay with them, as they lived  merely  2to 3 Kms away from school  and so  the rest of my school days were spent with them. We walked about 15 to 20 minutes from my grandfather’s house to reach the school through a river, and frankly that was possible only when  the  water level was low. But during the  monsoons, we would not dare to cross it and we always took  a  roundabout way which unfortunately took double the time. My  grandfather was so strict that even a minute’s  delay and he would demand an explanation!  Soon after returning from school. we had our baths, which was absolutely  compulsory, and we had to sit down to read the newspaper for him. Thank God, there were only 4 pages unlike today. In  our front sit-out, the moment I started reading, sitting on his easy chair, he used to start snoring. If I skipped any line,  he always questioned. me That’s when  I understood that he had in reality read the papers fully and this activity was only to cultivate  reading as a habit for  me. So though  I was much tired and hungry, I had to complete the paper from the headlines  to the printed and publishers’ name . Only then did I go for my evening prayers and have my porridge with pappadam and chutney. there were no limits on how much we could eat; but there was no change ever in the menu.  So, typically, we waited for Friday and weekends to go to our  village home and get some variety in our meals. My father sent all the provisions and food items for my grandparents  back with us in compensation for our stay and living expenses. Unlike my earlier schools, I had to do homework for the next day. Sometime, my head would nod sleepily  and drop off  in the sheer fatigue of an exhauting day  and spotting this, my mutacha  would  signal and send us stern messages through our grandmother. For this, he  cleverly positioned his chair in a particular angle  against a mirror to view us from the other side. My uncle, a maths teacher and a very jovial guy, sat on the other side of the study table and did all the corrections of student papers. He cracked very funny class-jokes and always kept me laughing loudly. Ofcourse this annoyed my grandfather no end and he unfailingly shouted at me from the other side of the room, which I recall  . . .scared me quite a lot:)  

 However, I passed my high school public exam with 59.5% marks; but unfortunately could not qualify for engineering college admission, which was truly my dream. Unlike today,  a first class (60%) was a big score, however I lost by this slim margin and it made me very upset. But when I came to know that my friends who had 12/15% less marks than me, got admission into medical and engineering colleges because of reservation, it truly shattered my dream. By that time,  all college admissions were closed and we were sure that I would lose that year for further studies, which really depressed me. Finally, a new college  with a rather poor  infrastructure opened up closer home and I gained  admission there for FY and Inter, which is today’s 12^th standard. After I completed my studies here , it was time to hunt for colleges. My uncle, who sponsored my higher studies, lost his job abroad and I was back again to square one. It was indeed a distressing time .

From here on, my oldest brother, Valliyettan  who had great trust in me  and my abilities, took on the onerous responsibility and shifted me to Bombay,  which is now called Mumbai – which was truly the turning point in my life. What was remarkable about his generosity was the fact that he was newly married himself and  disregarding his own need for privacy, he happily welcomed me into his life.

My life is proof of how a simple village boy can be transformed to face any challenges in life. I have this important advice for the youth of this present generation – that they must live in this city at least for a few years as it prepares you to meet every situation they are likely to face in life. The city teaches you hardships and also offers you plenty of opportunities. And so, brick by brick, I built my life with all that Life had to hand out but the sweetest memory of them all – is that no matter where you are from … impossible is nothing. Grit, determination and the love of Family are the founding pillars of Life. But most important is the wealth of pricelses lessons from our elders of Kunnackal – a not so developed village . Almost everyone who was born and grew up or have roots there – have gone along to various parts of our country and the world, and become respectable citizens. This is such a matter of pride for me and our Kunnackal family.