You could call it a job offer. Join the International College of Engineering as Head of Department and enjoy teaching electrical engineering to unsuspecting students. Boarding and lodging were taken care of. Fringe benefits included a beach, plain rustic surroundings and a relaxed ambience. I said yes. A friend of mine too was interested and we reached the village, Palayad near Talasserry shortly after final exams. The international institution functioned in a three bedroom rented house with just two faculty members. It ran courses in electrical, mechanical and electronics engineering and gave away beautifully printed certificates by the year-end. My friend and I saddled ourselves as Professor and HOD of the international college and started staying at the college itself. We arranged for food from a nearby teashop run by a very old man named Kunhiraman supported by his son, Preman. The father and son were spotlessly clean in habits as well as in dress. Clad in sleeved banian and lungi, they welcomed us to their fold. I talked to them in English just for kicks. I was deriving a perverted pleasure by talking in English to the simple village folks, but they never felt offended! On the contrary they took it as one of my aberrations and considered it as a sign of intimacy. Lakshmi, the old lady who used to come every morning to clean the floor confessed,
Mashe, I don’t know any English you’re talking about
“Don’t worry”, I said, “I shall teach you.”
But there was no need. Language was not a barrier at all.
The main occupation of the villagers was beedi-rolling. All of them were members of a society with a full-fledged office which controlled several satellite centers across villages. Beedi-rollers worked there from morning listening to radio. However, newspaper was their prime concern and arrangements were made for reading it aloud. One of their colleagues would be reading out the newspaper while others aptly listened. The newsreader was exempted from work as compensation. Every bit of news was analysed including the international ones and a definite stand was taken. In the rare cases of disagreement, seniors took the lead and consensus was reached on all major issues. The beedis were being rolled out at a constant pace amidst music, news and analysis. I was a total stranger in this setting as if almost air-dropped into the scene. The beedi-rollers received me like a hounarable guest. They gave me specially made beedis and asked me questions which were not even remotely connected to their lives. Perhaps they were taking me as almost a final word. Slowly I drew closer to the whole village. Evenings were spent either at the reading room or talking to people assembled at the verandah outside. Playing badminton at the maidan was another engagement. A motley crowd of college students, jobseekers, workers and army men on vacation made the maidan a rendezvous, sitting through the evenings till the stars appeared above. In moonlit nights, we spread ourselves on the sand and watched the designs weaved by moving clouds. Life appeared overwhelmingly joyous.
The villagers lived their lives pretty lightly. They were free from pretensions and interacted well with outsiders. Once I paid a visit to Mr.Ramraj’s house in town. He was our manager and lived in a huge double storied ancestral home where everyone stayed together. Ramraj’s father was with the Railways and had worked under the British. While I was getting introduced to the family members, the venerable old man climbed down the stairs dressed in a suite, complete with a hat. He was going out for the daily walk though ill health restricted his movements. Memory was also playing hide and seek. The act was nearing its end. The father gave me a beaming smile and walked ahead. Mr.Pushparaj, the eldest of the sons slowly approached me. He was a bachelor and temporarily out of job. He spent his time helping his aged mother.
“Mashe , can you push me a tenner?” he asked, “We’re preparing tea for you and suddenly the sugar is finished.”
He was meeting me for the first time in life. I was accepted at first sight.
The Revisit
After a long gap of sixteen years, I was back at Palayad. My wife and son accompanied me. Getting down from the bus, we walked towards my old destination, The International College of Engineering but soon took a detour to a friend’s house. The famous temple festival was going on and we thought the setting was right for a reunion. Sadly enough, there was not much jubilation visible. The ambience of the village itself had been changed. The place where people rolled beedis gave way to a beauty parlor. Local teashops too had undergone a sea change. They had transformed into fashionable fast food joints. The most noticeable thing was the total lack of liveliness around. One was reminded of the ‘Lotus eaters’ of the Greek mythology. People had certainly ceased to care. Ajayan remembered me and he welcomed us with great warmth. His wife took the trouble to prepare a specialty item for us which was a regular fare during the festival days several years back. Ajayan collected its ingredients and some of them root parch, rice flakes and sugar candy, were to be procured from the neighborhood. The tasty local food was served to us on plantain leaves.
We made a visit to Prabhakaran. He had worked in the Middle East, saved money and constructed a massive house in his village. The building made in concrete doubled as a gallery too where various electronics gadgets were showcased. This was a common trait among the Malayalis who felt nearly secured inside a huge house living amidst luxury gadgets. Prabhan’s father was seated in the drawing room wearing spotlessly white clothes and a permanent stunned look. He appeared rather uncomfortable in the setting and was promptly escorted to the interior by his son. Prabhakaran returned soon to talk to us about his possessions while a relative filmed us on video. He talked about the changing times.
Prabhan invited me to visit the Andallur temple where the festival was going on. In fact we started our journey mainly for watching it but we were reconsidering the idea. Carrying my tired son on the shoulders, I said goodbye to them and walked towards the bus stop with my wife.