THE TIMES OF S.K. POTTEKATT – 4

An encounter with Death

S.K. Pottekatt was down and out in London. He had traveled non-stop for fourteen months through different continents and landed up in London, broke. He had just enough money for his voyage from London to Bombay. He had to wait and the cost of living in London was high. His reserve was sufficient only for a month’s stay. The passenger ship was heavily booked and that too leaving the English shores after a time-gap.

Pottekkatt did a clever move. He met V.K.Krishnamenon, the Indian High Commissioner   in London. He had carried an introductory letter too. Menon lived in the mezzanine floor of the palatial building leaving the main floor-area to his deputy. Menon used to browse through files till two o’clock in the morning. His office hours started at 7.30 am. In spite of the grueling grind, Menon didn’t accept even a penny as salary.

Pottekkatt was introduced as a writer and he sought Menon’s help in publishing his books translated into English. Interestingly, it was Krishna Menon who started Penguin Pelican Publishing house with an English friend in 1935. Graciously enough, Menon agreed to this proposal and asked for the manuscript! That was a shot in the arm. Pottekkatt lost no time in soliciting Menon’s help for a passage to India. Menon obliged. He rang up one Mr.Ranganathan, Head of Indian Commerce Dept. in London and asked him to do the needful.

Overjoyed, Pottekkaatt made a bee-line to Ranganathan’s office. However, luck was not in favour. The nearest passage was months away. Pottekkatt didn’t have money to pull on.

Can you embark on  ‘Indian Enterprise’,a cargo ship? Ranganathan asked.

Pottekkatt was ready for anything. In fact, he didn’t have a choice.

But there is one condition. You can’t smoke anywhere on the ship. Its cargo are ammunition and explosives.

That didn’t pose a problem to Pottekkatt. In fact, he wanted to quit his smoking habit and this would be a god-sent opportunity for doing so.

Next morning, at the hotel lounge, an aged Pakistani gentleman bumped into Pottekkatt. He was a business man and a globe-trotter.

Don’t you want to see more countries, brother? 

Yes but I don’t have any money on me. Pottekkatt was frank.

No issues. You can still visit France, Switzerland, Italy, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria and Turkey.

That’s the Orient Express. You cross the desert in a truck to reach Iraq. From Basra (Iraq), one takes a small voyage through Persian Gulf to Bombay.

The cost would be much less than that of the ammunition ship. Time would be curtailed as well. The total duration of the voyage would be twenty-one days whereas  the Orient Express based itinerary took only fifteen days.

The proposal went straight to Pottekkatt’s head! He was a born traveler, after all !

He immediately started collecting transit visas of the respective countries.

However, at the back of his mind he was troubled by his assurance that the he gave to Ranganathan. If the cargo ship arrived, he would immediately ring up Pottekkatt. In order to avoid such an eventuality, Pottekkatt would leave his hotel early and wander through London streets. Moreover, he had to arrange for the transit visa from the Yogoslavian consulate who were rigid and unfriendly. They suddenly declared that Pottekkatt’s application was sent to their HQ in Belgrade and it would take time. Still there was no guarantee that the outcome would be positive. Denial of transit visa was a common affair.

In a moment’s time, Pottekkatt’s high hopes were razed to ground. There was no other go other than dropping the Orient Express plan. Pottekkatt was back to square one. The only option left for him was to go and meet Ranganathan.

Naturally, he cold-shouldered Pottekkatt. 

Where were you, Mister? We telephoned umpteen times…

See, I arranged a passage for you on His Excellency’s request. Finally when it was ready, you were nowhere in sight.

Pottekkatt started an apology spree. He desperately needed a berth in the cargo ship.

No use, a bad news was in store. The ammunition and gunpowder ship had left London the previous day.

Pottekkat was flabbergasted. It was his seventeenth day in London waiting for a passage.

On the twenty-third day, as he was browsing newspaper at the hotel-lounge, a news item caught his attention.

Cargo ship ‘Indian Enterprise’ explodes and sinks in Red Sea. 74 out of 75 perished. Noor Hussain who escaped had gone to the upper-deck to smoke a cigarette.

Pottekkatt rushed to his room and took out his diary. There was the description of a dream …in which his late father visited Pottekkatt, embraced him and cried nonstop. Pottekkatt too cried. He was woken up in his sleep, still sobbing.

Catherene La Rose

 He had gone to Ranganathan’s office to arrange for his voyage the previous day!

Pottekkatt immediately rushed to meet Ranganathan in his office. Ranga didn’t utter a word and gave his customer a close embrace. Pottekkatt’s passage was cleared in a ship named Jal Azad in two day’s flat!

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THE TIMES OF S.K. POTTEKKATT -3

Two recordings 

In this post, two episodes from African history of the early twentieth century are reproduced from Pottekkatt’s book Kappirikalude Nattil. Though we are quite unfamiliar with the recordings, we can take a couple of lessons from them.

Pottekkatt finished his Kenya tour and he was on his way to Uganda. He embarked on a ship SS Usago and crossed the Victoria Lake. It’s the second largest fresh water lake but nobody uses its water. Infested with a kind of worms called “Billersia” which enter into the human body to thrive on, the Lake is scary as well. The islands in the lake are uninhabited. Flies named “Telsy” (also known as Tsetse) have made them a dreaded place by propagating a terrifying disease named “Sleeping Sickness”. A giant killer by itself, Sleeping Sickness had banished 1/3 rd of the population of Uganda. Scientists identified the virus “Tripenosome” which were carried by Telsy flies. They were inactive in the night-time and the ships had rearranged their schedule to move only during nights. 

Tripenosome lied dormant in the human-body for a long time.At the final stage when the disease became full-blown, its beyond treatment. The symptoms were very similar to Malaria , often resulting in wrong medication. “Tripenosome” attacked salivary glands first followed by human brain. And then they entered the vertebrae column causing paralysis. The patient turned a zombie at this stage. The control over the sensory organs was lost and the patient lied on his/her back with the knees folded upwards touching the neck. However, death did not happen even at this stage.The victim had to pull on for years together in this extremely pathetic posture until pneumonia took away the life.

Since treatment was not common for Sleeping Sickness, the Ugandan government was concentrating on the prevention part. The islands were condemned for human habitation and people were being evacuated even from the banks of the lake. The government cleared 35 lakh acres of vegetation just to keep Telsy flies at bay.

Sleeping Sickness is no more a scare in Africa these days. 

Marchal Mithouard

There is one more recording in Pottekkatt’s book and that is about history. In fact, Uganda’s history is not well-documented till the end of 19^th century. 

The year was 1877 when Uganda was ruled by a Kabakka (king) named Muttesa. He was whimsical with a staunch belief in sorcery. Several human lives were sacrificed. Muttesa thought it would increase his longevity and strength. Surprisingly, the unpredictable king had welcomed the British missionaries. Not to be left behind, the Catholic missionaries from France too made a beeline to Uganda. The natural fall-out was an unstoppable war between the two factions. The English missionaries and their French counterparts took to weapons and fought against each other. Their new-found followers perished in the process.

There was yet another faction, the Ugandan Muslims who were hostile to both English and French missionaries. They were the progeny of Arabs who had an inherent dislike to the religious invasions. The civil unrest continued till the death of King Muttesa in 1884.His eldest son, Muvanka became the new Kabakka. He had a dream that a white man entering Uganda through the northern side of Victoria Lake would wrest power from him. Roughly at this time, the British Church had sent a Bishop, James Hanington and his itinerary through the northern side gave the King sleepless nights. The Bishop was brutally murdered. 

The new Kabakka was in fact an accumulation of oddities. He practiced sodomy and had kept a harem of young boys. The enthusiastic conversionists worked on the sly and  thirty two of the boys were converted to Christianity.  Muvanka was angered to no end. Death sentence was slapped on them and the boys were given 10 days to relinquish Christianity. Backed by the prodding of the Bishops, the boys refused to budge and Muvanka burnt all the thirty-two of them alive. The incident forged unity among the warring factions of Catholics and Protestants and they entered into a pact with the Muslims to fight the common enemy. Unable to withstand pressure, Muvanka had to flee for life to an islet named Sesse in Victoria Lake.

Unfortunately, things were back to square one in the absence of the King. A severe fight between Christians and Muslims followed. The Muslims managed to oust the Bishops and all Christians from Uganda. Not for long. The Christians came back next year with renewed vigor and recalled Muvanka from exile. He was made the King yet again. The Muslims were suppressed and the Christians had a free-run.

The Ugandan history did not end at this point. Muvanka was ousted again and he took refuge in a French colony named Bukoba. What's more, he was called back yet again by the British to overpower the elements of protests against them. Oddly enough, Muvanka turned against the British for some strange reason. The British had enough and banished Muvanka from the country. Muvanka did come back and joined the Sudanese soldiers as well as local war-lords to unleash a year-long covert war against the British. He was defeated in the end, was taken as POW and was exiled to Seychelles where he died in captivity in 1903.

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THE TIMES OF S.K.POTTEKKATT - 2

Kenya-bound

One good thing about S.K.Pottekatt is that he sees the virtuous side first. He becomes dearer to people on that count itself.

He was on his way to Kenya which necessitated several trips through goods-laden lorries. Pottekkatt used to strike a conversation with the crew and offer them cigarettes. He was genuinely interested in their lives and asked several questions. Enroute to Kenya, he invited them to visit India. The driver and his assistant politely turned down the offer. They said the freedom of their motherland mattered to them most and everything else was secondary. Pottekatt was impressed to no end. He felt elated. In fact, he was humbled.

Arctic Sketches - Kate Johnson

Pottekkatt got down at a place called Moshi. A police Sub Inspector named Koshi was going to be his host. Though an officer, the Indian SI enjoys far less powers (and salary) than his white counterpart. The constables need not have to salute him. Pottekkatt found his host’s residence locked as Koshy was on an emergency visit to the nearby village. The drawing room was kept opened. Pottekkatt was not a wee-bit worried. He kept his luggage there and made a bee-line to one Kunju Nair’s place. Mr.Nair invited him for food and overnight stay. Okay, Pottekkaatt said. All impediments were solved this way. He was prepared to accept everything and it showed. The unexpected setbacks were resolved pronto. The warmth of human beings was a panacea to all road blocks.

The next morning SI Koshy arrived and took Pottekkatt to his office. He sent a word to the bus-stand that the bus to Mombassa should touch the police-station to collect the VIP passenger. The ways of police were not subjected to change wherever on earth! The bus arrived sharply at 10 am and a black gentleman who had booked a ticket by the side of the driver was evicted to the back row making way to the Indian traveler. Precisely at this time, a packet containing lunch reached there, sent by Mrs.Nair. That’s a tender mercy but it went a long way.

Castle - David Gentleman  1973

By the evening, the bus reached Mombassa where one Mr.Kurup awaited. Again, networking helped. Kurup worked for an Insurance firm and Pottekkatt was known to him. He had arranged a room above his office for the traveler. One needed a permit to travel through Kenya and Pottekkaatt was waiting. He didn’t have to worry as he was comfortably placed in a room upstairs. What’s more, homely food was also arranged for the stranger.

Such hospitality is unthinkable these days! Arranging food and accommodation for a traveler expecting nothing in return.

The next morning Pottekaatt joined his host and the black servant on their way to market. Quite abruptly, a conversation in Malayalam fell on his ears. Dhoti-clad men were laughing away for no apparent reason. The leader was in typical Kerala style, dhoti half-mast and a beedi between lips, their conversation in accented Malabar Malayalam vented out unmindful of the surroundings.

Pottekkaatt got elated. In a sudden surge of happiness, he confronted the people from his own home-town.

Hey, what’s there to laugh so much?

The lightning struck. The foursome were being accosted by a total stranger rather rudely. The intruder was not wearing any ethnic clothes, his attire was European but the vibes were positive. The crowd was still in a state of shock. It took them one full minute to recover.

People from Pottekkaatt’s home-town were skilled-workers brought in to erect a Tiles factory in Mombassa. One Kanjimeghji Shah from Bombay had shipped them all the way from Kerala. The poor fellows were given to understand that Mombassa was a place with no Malayalees! They were not given any interpreter either. The poor folk didn’t know Hindustani and that made communication with the Indian diaspora absolutely impossible. Saitji’s men kept a siege around the workers as if they were convicts.

Mt. Charleston - Kate Johnson 2009

The home-towners invited Pottekkaatt and Kurup to their humble abode which the duo accepted without any second thoughts. Off they went next Sunday to their place for a desi sadya.

The workers were promised four times the salary that they got at Feroke (Kozhikkode) with food and accommodation taken care of. In fact, a skilled worker was paid 550 shilling (Rs. 340) per month and the Feroke crowd was blissfully unaware of it.

Pottekaatt stopped at this point and refrained from elaborating further. Reading between lines, we could arrive at a conclusion that Pottekkaatt used his high level contacts and fetched the workers a fair deal.

No modern traveler would venture the kind of “sting operation” that Pottekkaatt did. They would keep a safe distance from the ‘desi crowd’ and often turn indifferent. Here, Pottekkaatt is overwhelmed by a sense of brotherhood and he just surges ahead. 

The sterling quality of S.K.Pottekkaatt comes to fore at this point. He does not blow his own trumpet. He does not utter a word about any of his altruist activities. Such selfless gestures generate a reservoir of goodwill which comes to help in hard times. In Pottekkaatt’s life, he is saved by a whisker even from death and I have a feeling that his intrinsic worth has got something to do with that.

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TRAVAILS OF FIRST GENERATION TRAVELLERS – THE TIMES OF S.K.POTTEKKATT

The Difference

Strictly speaking, one can’t place S.K.Potekkatt (1913-1982) as first generation traveller. Wanderlust cannot be confined to any particular generation. Travelers like Huan Tsang and Fahien criss-crossed the length and breadth of countries millenniums back. Much later, merchants (Marco polo) and fortune seekers (Maghallan) arrived the scene. However, there is a common thread to all these travels. The travellers were not on their own. The state commissioned their travels. Flashing their credentials, the young travellers got access to any forbidden place. Security had already been taken care of.

People who travelled on their own in the modern world where public transport existed in a primitive form can be termed as a first generation traveller. S.K. Pottekatt was one such. Obviously, he had to suffer quite a lot. The communication facilities were almost non-existent. There were no hotels to stay if you were travelling through the undeveloped countries. No networks of roads or rail available. Even through roads existed, a proper public transport system was absent. The traveller was at the mercy of lorry owners! At any given time, one can get stuck during travel. You are hopelessly susceptible to robbing, cheating and neglect. Dreaded diseases like Malaria can get hold of you unawares. 

You have to bear the grunt all alone. No chance of contacting the family or government. If a traveller took such high-end risks and completed his mission, we must admit there is the rub, there must be some unique qualities in him which saved him from all difficult predicaments. Here, we are fathoming those requirements which are essential not only for the traveller but also for others to accomplish the journey called life.

Pottekkatt undertook the journey through Africa when he was thirty six in 1949. There was no other go other than embarking on a voyage. After setting foot at Dar-E-Salam, he travelled through the eastern side of Africa 11,000 mile through Zambia, Kenya and Uganda. In fact, Zambia was not formed then! Two provinces Tanganyika and Zanzibar which were under British colonial yoke got independence and together they became a new-born country named Zambia. While Pottekkatt travelled, there was this new-found urge for freedom sweeping the entire continent. He just couldn’t look the other way. He squarely placed his loyalties with the impoverished natives. Later on, he travelled through Rhodesia too and documented the severe exploitation as well as discrimination faced by the peoples of Africa.

Landscape by Adriana Raby

Humaneness is the sine-qua-non of a traveller. You are stuck as a doornail otherwise. You might travel to distant places but it will remain as a “dry” journey.  The warmth would be lost. Love is the factor that connects a traveller to the world!

Pottekkatt started his African tour by networking with the Keralites who reciprocated more than generously. People celebrated the arrival of a fellow-Keralite whom they have never met. His fame as a writer might not have reached them. In fact, they found it strange to meet a man reaching a far-away land only for the purpose of travelling! Usually Malayalees reach alien lands seeking an El Dorado! I believe, the PLU (People Like Us) factor might have worked! Anyway it was big fun! For example, he was invited to a sight-seeing tour by the Malayalee community and off they went to a place called Bagamoyo, 45 mile away.  Two buses and a few cars were chartered with food prepared and packed. It shows the kind of fraternity existed among Malayalees in times of yore!  Pottekkat writes that the whole group visited an old dilapidated building by the sea to have lunch. Everyone was taking a short nap but Pottekkatt couldn’t. The building housed slaves once upon a time and Pottekkatt felt their ghosts moving around the place. The whips twirling and cries filling the air. While everybody else slept, he was awake and restless.

The bachelors took the lead and Pottekkatt was invited to a beach party by the evening. It was 9 pm and a full moon night. As expected, F&B had been brought in. In a short while, they burst into dancing, all popular dance forms of Kerala were performed by the spirited youth! 

Pottekkatt though married, was in full sync with the young men! One needs an open, unbiased mind for such jamming.

The time was past midnight and the sound of distant drums enchanted them. At a faraway village, Goma (local dance) was going on with the whole village participating. The bachelors’ party got interrupted and they made a bee-line to the village singing an old marching song! They found the entire village folk dancing under the moon-lit sky. The marchers went ahead and joined the dancers without any hesitation. The act rejuvenated the natives and the whole group cutting across nationality, color, sex or age celebrated their lives on this planet!

For the traveler, the underlying unity of humankind is the only thing that matters. He doesn’t get alienated in a different continent dancing with total strangers. 

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CRACKING DEPRESSION – 4

A World View of Your Own

Perhaps you fell into the abyss of Depression simply because you did not have a philosophy of your own. Your world-view is akin to the ballast of a hot-air balloon. It keeps you steady. Finding your own philosophy is a long drawn process. In fact, the preparation should start sufficiently early, preferably during the fag end of your education. As one finishes the degree (just to make a living in most cases), one has to undergo a phase called ‘moratorium’. This is the time for acquiring Knowledge.  Get it from various sources, from music, travel, visual arts, history, psychology, modern physics etc. You have to imbibe the spirit of religion too, the Love of Christianity, the Brotherhood of Islam, the Compassion of Buddhism, the eternal righteousness (Sanatana Dharma) of Hinduism etc.

Moratorium is a phase for purification. What’s more, one can get purified from man-woman relationship too. The advantage of Moratorium is that you’ll have a fairly good idea of what is right and what is not. You will be interested only in the kernel and sift through the chaff. And bear in mind that an open mind is the only requisite.

Gadgets -Jay Marvin

Most likely, you will be at the crossroads by the end of Moratorium. You have to find the practical application of the noble ideas you’ve absorbed. One is already convinced that cultivation of Love and practice of Selflessness is the basis of all, however, the starting point is elusive. Don’t worry! Take into consideration the underlying unity of things and your wavering withers away.  Check whether the act upholds it. A selfless act propelled by hate is to be denounced.

The ultimate purpose of human life is self-realization, no doubt! However, the path is hard and insecure. Make good use of religion at this point. Religion can give you a push towards God , it  places you into the orbit like a rocket giving the necessary thrust. Thereafter you must leave it because religion and spirituality are two different entities. The path is based on spirituality and not on religion. Even if you fall short of destination, don’t worry. You have already become a good human being. Your actions are beneficial not only to yourself but to others as well. That’s worth the effort!

Manic - Jay Marvin

You are alert and attentive. You have the power of discrimination based on your life-experience and observations. You are no longer haunted by the bitterness of the past or by the anxieties of the future.

If you distinguish between pleasure and happiness, you will be convinced that pleasure is a poor substitute for Happiness. Happiness stems from a sense of fulfillment. 

You could be a revolutionary trying to change the world or a sanyasin trying to find its meaning, ultimately the mental make-up of both are the same. One is tuned outwards whereas the other inwards. Both give a sense of fulfilment.  The seemingly strange pair constantly make an effort to denounce pleasure, as they know by gnosis that it is a poor substitute.  They also know that it is a trap, worse than quicksand which will devour you however hard you try to escape. In fact you would never try to escape even, as pleasure seekers always ask for more. Indulgence can never be through.

Rider of Meadow Hope - Jay Marvin

John Kenneth Galbraith coined the term “Marginal Men” by which he meant shortsighted people who can’t see beyond their compound walls. Expand your world-view progressively so that eventually it includes the entire Universe. Think globally (at least) and act locally. You just can’t go wrong. Align with the less fortunates and the victims. At least make a wish for their turn-around!

Treat everyone with respect. All is one! Nobody is first among equals in the larger scheme of things. Some people make a dispute here. According to them, the steps of a building and the idol inside the temple are made of the same stuff, natural stone. Do you treat them with equal respect? No. Likewise, you must discriminate among people based on their credentials. Actually, this is a fake argument.   One must see the Creator in both the outcast (chandal) and the elite. One step further, one must see the reflection of oneself in both individuals.

Harbor no hatred.

The revolutionary and the sanyasin always hook themselves on a spear, raise it to their eye-level and look straight into their own eyes. The alertness and attentiveness required is equated to that of a person trapped in a closed room with a poisonous snake!

Can you do that? If the answer is “Yes”, you’re saved!

We all chimed in - Jay Marvin

The issue is also of Freedom, the extent to which one is entitled for. Freedom has a common domain to be shared with others. This is the domain for interaction. In other words, Freedom cannot exist in vacuum. You are entitled for your freedom so long as you allow others to honor theirs.

Love and Selflessness. The issue of commodification occurs due to our failure to put it into practice. In Love, you always give and least worried about what you get (in return).  Take the case of man-woman relationship. What makes it most beautiful and unique? Even in lovemaking, the man or woman always tries his/her level-best for the complete satisfaction of his/her partner and that itself gives satisfaction for himself/herself. Because sex is all love and no lust.

Everything, not only sex, should converge to a win-win situation.

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