The Great question of basic hygiene

This news was on the 28th of June 2017 Indian express and the headlines go like this:

"A Bihar village has ACs geysers cars but not a single toilet!"

It's the affluent village of Gaziapur in southern Bihar with most of the 200 hundred families possessing modern gadgets but lived in a house sans toilets. What could be the reason? It is as simple as that. SUPERSTITION!! The man who had the courage to build one in his house 29 years ago lost his younger son for no rhyme or reason. They fear that building a toilet in a house could lead to imminent death of a family member! As a by-product of this superstition people from around are hesitant to give their girls in marriage to the boys of the village however rich they are!

Our southern town of Trichy is a bit superior to the Gaziapur affair. In the older part of the town there are toilets but there is a defect in the placement. They are right on dot at the end of the front verandah and the smell reverberates through the open drainage system

When we were young we promoted ourselves from the open defecation to toilets among the trees at the back yard of the house. Any untimely urgency at night was the single problem what with the trees involved in their devilish dance and umpteen numbers of scary anecdotes by the oldies revolving around them!

When I came to Chennai for the first time to visit my elder sister, she lived in a house where many families lived in portions allotted to them but it was a single toilet for the whole lot. It was underneath the staircase resembling a cave. The urine smell emanated from the old walls and the stench of beedi closed on me from all the three sides. In those days smoking beedi inside the toilet was common to both the sex since the belief was that this process enhanced of the bowel movement. Coming from the culture of trees speckled backyard toilets with copious oxygen this Chennai experience was indeed a breathless one!

 It was the late sixties when we got married and landed in Rajahmundry where my husband was working as an engineer in the Andhra Praddesh paper mill. Movies were the only entertainment and for a small town the theatres screened good English movies with two translators near the screen who would do a perfect job in Telugu (an irritation for the non Telugu group). Our very first visit to the theatre was an enjoyable one with the Jerry Lewis movie. As we left the theatre after the show I started screaming "blood ... blood" After some investigation my hubby found out that amidst the enthusiasm of watching the movie, specially in local lingo, people had used the theatre floor as a giant paan spittoon!

Till the end of nineties the city of Bangalore was a joy to behold with its green foliage and was neither a proliferated jungle of IT companies and nor baptised as Bengaluru. We were on our leisurely annual visit to the city where we could traverse the open space sans diesel smell. Near the Cubbon Park there was a newly built wonder called Sri Kanteerava Indoor Stadium with a pet name given by the Bangaloreans as "Sree." There was an exhibition going on in the place then and with our dual purpose of seeing the new wonder too we made a visit to the place.  We were amazed at the marvel with facilities for multiple sports, rock music and international and local events! As we were nearing the rear end of the tour we were shocked by the disgusting odour engulfing the whole area! Yes...you guessed it right. It was the stench emitted from the rows of toilets of the stadium. We were highly disappointed. Such a sophisticated place deserved an expert maintenance team!? But this was decades back.  Let us hope that things have changed for better similar to Chennai theatres!

In the olden days we used to avoid going to movies in Chennai as the all-pervading urine stench emanates through the theatre especially after the intermission. But now theatres are a delight to visit even though we pay through the nose to watch a movie along with newly introduced GST!

My daughter in law who was on a professional visit to Theni had some times to visit one of the numerous waterfalls which dotted the area. She was amazed by the fact that while the Tamil Nadu side was strewn with rags, dirty clothes, plastic bags, food waste, the other side which was west of the Kerala border was a pristine beauty!

It was a retreat centre in Kerala and when an announcement to the congregation made my sister hang her head down in shame

“Devotees from Tamil Nadu please keep your toilets clean" the announcement said “We have plenty of water." What sort of dirty impression we have created!

It is small restaurant which we favour during our monthly sojourn to Trichy. It was not a smelly one with abundant water supply and a bucket full of phenol with a mug. But the users never care or bother about the next person who has to enter content with completing their own job. Their dirty shoe and slipper imprints and unflushed toilets make the place nauseating. Kindness to the neighbours can be reflected by this small deed of using the health faucet over the area before we come out! As a lesson learnt from our great saint of India, Mahatma Gandhi, I always make it a point to make the toilet clean at entry as well as exit points.

 It was a part of a letter to the editor of a famous English daily from a reader and it goes like this:" Sir I am a frequent air traveler locally and abroad. What hits you as you land at Chennai airport is the stench from the toilets In spite of all modernisation  no one bothers about the proper maintenance of this basic amenity which puts the country as a whole in shame." Even though we are not frequent travelers like the reader we whole heartedly endorse his views

This incidence takes the cake!!

It was an All India women's conference on a beautiful location. At the end of the first day an emergency meeting was called by team of organisers. To make the purpose of the meeting very clear all the members of the organising committee made a dramatic entry to the stage carrying buckets and brooms!

The owners of the place it seemed are threatening them to vacate their spotless place then and there and they didn't bother if it was an all India meet of great importance. Their toilets are stinking beyond words and they wondered how the group of highly educated women were capable such a dirty job!

“We begged with them to give us one chance." One of them said “Unless all of us make a resolution regarding our basic hygiene you can be sure that this three day conference is a bygone affair."

The selfishness with which even the educated women behaved was beyond words! But proper sense prevailed after the dramatic appearance and the conference continued without a hitch!

As young children we used to wonder why our dad had hung two aesthetically decorated and framed words on either side of the alter in the house.

One talks about the Homely Blessings and the other Homely Virtues.

I thought it apt to produce the Homely Virtues in the context of this blog.

HOMELY VIRTUES

The Beauty of Home Is Cleanliness

The Honour of Home Is Friendliness

The Blessing of Home Is Godliness

 The Richness of Home Is Cheerfulness

The first stanza let us add the "tidiness of our toilets" too!

Marks and Mayajaal

If the nurses and the nursing assistants were one part on my  home adventure there were other sidekicks  who created  excitement in what was supposed to be a disciplined, routine household activity. Those were the days of too many couriers and speed posts and plenty of visitors and opening and closing of the many gates to our house became an arduous job for aging father in law.

 My sister in law , a mother superior in the interiors of Vellore who came for a visit said that a new girl had come to her convent as assistant in the kitchen  and she could be helpful to dad in the day to day activities to  act as a gate keeper and clean and sweep  the garden early in the morning and draw the kolams  in the frontage, read the bible whenever he wanted and in case anyone of the helpers is absent she could easily chip in.

She was a peculiar girl for her age, an ordinary rasam (milgutanni soup) rice can satiate her hunger and with a movie of a particular actor she could even forego that meal. She is more of a Buddhist with 'one day one meal' routine and a deep meditative mode, not on the Divine but on her favourite actor. My father in law was a worried man. A girl in her teens should eat well. Even though she pretended to listen to his sincere  advice on health it fell on the deaf years.

On a week end I called our cook aside to find out the facts. She burst out "Only when she gets married and begets a child she would understand her disrespect for food”. While the nurses and assistants gorge on the food and scrap the vessels clean, this girl sits around chatting and joking. But she complains of stomach pain now and then and if ever he gave her a special treat she would pass it on to the nursing assistant on sly. "

Then I called the girl. She endeared herself by pretending to listen carefully. But at the end she opened up. She had been in a hostel for six years and used to plenty of snacks packed from the house as well as outside and regular food was unknown to her system. The orphanage food which was prepared carelessly with smelly rice and moldy vegetables was not her forte and when the nuns were not looking around she used to throw it over the wall. On the pretext of taking her sick class mates or friends to the hospital she would gallivant the town with them and pooling the resources go for tasty snacks.

"Till which class did you study..?" I asked

" SSLC (Secondary School Leaving Certificate) akka (sister)" she replied

" Have you passed?"

After some hesitation and scratching of head she said "I think I have failed in one subject."

"Which subject..."

She was not very sure.

I am a fan of my mum who (in those Godforsaken days girls were stopped from school with elementary education and trained in house hold activities) was a sort of revolutionary sending all her 6 girls for higher education and being her daughter I decided then and there that I would coach her up to finish her SSLC.

The communication to send her certificate was sent home and when it arrived we had a surprise of our lives to receive four of them instead of one! Yes our girl has passed one subject at a time and thus completing one subject per certificate with the minimal pass mark of 35 out of hundred!! Heart in heart I wished that the subject she had failed should be social studies  and never math or science, my enigmas! But it was not to be. She had bunked in science. I was sad. To pep me up my hubby appeased me not to worry and that he could take care of that . After all it was tenth standard science. But the happiness didn't last long when the book arrived!

 One look at the book threw him off the balance!

"But it's in Tamil.." he exclaimed

"What did you expect, an English medium student from the rustic depth of Tamil Nadu..?" I replied

My husband didn't study much Tamil. Though his spoken language was good his writings and  the reading and writing  was not his forte! He did his metric in a seminary  aiming to become a priest and hence his second language was Latin.

We were in a dilemma. Then I told him that the biology part of the science was ok with me and even  chemistry was manageable  but the physics was not a good friend. We arrived at a compromise. That during the week end when both of us were free I would sit and listen to his explanations and in turn  would do my best to convey  the things right!!

Thus started our pilgrim's progress. We too had many temptations. She would love to distract me with many an anecdote. When someone died in the village, the grievance would end with a public show of a movie by their favourite actor! Similarly any celebration with the VIPs and politicians attracted cinema shows. Her father a pious man who hated watching movies once saw her in the crowd and that day was the worst day in her life with him beating her in the public and continued it unto the house too!. But in spite of it she could deceive him by taking her bed sheet and cover herself lest he saw her! Bringing her back to the pendulum theory was indeed a Himalayan effort! She would create as many excuse as possible like  'hearing thatha's call'  'basic nature calls' 'unfinished work' 'her forgotten food' and so on.

Coming back from office when I was tired, it was indeed an effort that both of us could sit together for long  in this distractive ambience. But weekends provided a somewhat better duration in spite of all her devious ways.

She wrote the exams privately and we didn't expect much from her. A pass mark indeed would have made us happy. And she could own her 5th certificate! On the day of the result my husband who saw the result on line came from his room to announce that she had passed with 53percent , her highest score in SSLC! She was all in tears.

"That's not my mark...." she cried

" We know....... we know...... you studied and got the better mark this time." FIL cajoled her.

" No thatha (grandpa), this mark is too low..... I expected a higher percentage......"

Everyone was aghast!

But finally when my husband came out with a smile to declare that she passed her science exam with 83 percent  all she  could do was  to cry copiously to the bewilderment of the motley crowd of nurses, assistants cook and of course all of us!

"What gift would you like  for this wonderful achievement ?" my husband asked her

Without winking her eyelid she said " The latest movie of my hero  at  Mayajaal ( a famous theatre in Chennai) please"!

The Best Advertisement Award Goes To

Some years ago whenever I picked up the daily news paper I  used to wiggle it thoroughly and advertisement notices of various shapes and sizes tumble down from the innards of the main paper. Satisfied with my methodical job I sit in peace to read the paper. But today the newspapers themselves have become advertisements and I search for the news in between them! Sometimes they pop up outside too irritating the reader beyond words who is unable to fold the paper properly!

But there are some advertisements which makes you smile and never an annoyance. If there is an originality and ingenuity award for effective and interesting presentation I would definitely award it to the scooter man who collects old silk clothes with jari. The scooter man never does the talking, It is a prerecorded message fitted to his vehicle with a microphone and it goes thus": Come ladies..... come..... If you possess old Kanchipuram,  Dharmavaram,  Arni,  Banarasi silk saris, silk skirts or stoles we will buy it from you. Please don't bother if they are torn beyond redemption. We will buy it on the spot for a very good price and you can get a good money then and there" The endearing at the same time assuring voice with the right modulation was his asset  and the frequency with which he raided our street was the indicator of the business he created for himself!

Usually the old jari saris are taken to a shop where they were torn into pieces and burnt leaving the silver or gold as the case may be and then melted again. I had the chance to witness the process when my mother in law's wedding sari which had seen many moons and rendered great service went into bits and she had graciously asked me to sell it and get new saris for self and my sister in law. Both of us sitting in that hole in the wall  shop witnessing the sari going into a blast furnace ominously  decided once is enough! The joy of buying a new sari was lost somewhere in the process. If only the scooter man existed  then.........!

The other day there was a semi covered  truck meandering through our street. I was surprised to hear similar coaxing advertisement but with a wee bit of difference. Then I remembered Bernard Shaw who said "Imitation is not just sincere form of flattery- it's the sincerest form of learning." This truck man had not only learnt from the scooter man asking for old jari clothes but improvised and improved upon the old form and the announcement went thus :" Come mother....... Come father...... come brothers....... Come sisters....... Come grandpa ......Come grandma ....... All of you know how important is onion in our cooking and how good it is for our health  and the taste it adds to the dish is mouth watering. We are selling the best sun dried onions for the cheapest price of three kilogram packs just for 50 rupees. You cannot get this price except in whole sale markets and we are delivering the same at your door step. we are stopping the vehicle at your place, please come and enjoy this cheap price and the best product!

When I was young the advertisements were few but still today I can remember the enjoyment it gave and along with my siblings we had a great time with them.

One advertisement  where young boys carrying some placards walk through our street shouting;

"Gopala..."

"Yes... sir.."

"Where do you go?"

"To the shop to the shop sir..."

"What do you buy..?

"To buy some beedi sir.."

"To buy what...?

"To buy some beedi sir.."

"What beedi are you buying...?

"Of course Kaaja beedi sir..."

"What beedi?"

"Kaaja beedi sir"

 There were no organisations then condemning the use of children in advertising for such an obnoxious substance. The advertisement so fascinated us that we used to repeat this chorus in the house almost on a daily basis!

One day dad was furious when he heard this refrain. The elder siblings were taken to task . Dad is a well known school master in the Kumbakonam town and  from the crème de la crème to the lowest rung were his friends and he wielded his unspoken authority to put the populace in the right way  and one aspect is his advice was to avoid tobacco products. If anyone sees him coming across  he would stamp his cigarette underneath his feet and folding his hand  in a submissive way and wish him.  It was no wonder that he was angry that his own children were enjoying the beedi advertisement however enticing the chorus was!

But in our own ingenious way the advertisement metamorphosed into a better jingle

"Gopala..."

"Yes... sir.."

" Where do you go...?"

"To the shop to the shop sir..."

" What do you buy..?

" To buy some sweets sir.."

" To buy what...?

" To buy some sweets  sir.."

" What sweets  are you buying...?

" Of course  honey sweets sir..."

"What sweets?"

" Honey sweets  sir "

Honey sweets were replaced by peanut sweets, coconut sweets, sesame sweets, lizard egg sweets and a very obnoxious named sweet called ‘rat dropping sweets’ (so called because of the shapes) in accordance with the purchase. And other articles like Vincent cool drinks, Kali mark sodas, Rexona soap, Sun light washing soap, 505 bar soap joined in this advertisement  fun game!

After India's independence in 1947 the first Indian election for the Indian people was held in 1951 and this 'Gopala advertisement' was exhaustively used by the parties especially the Congress and it went on like this:

"Gopala..."

"Yes... sir.."

" Where do you go...?"

"To the voting booth sir..."

" Where do you go...?"

"To the voting booth sir..."

"Which is your symbol?"

" Plough and peasant sir.."

"Which is your symbol?"

"Plough and peasant sir.."

With this measly advertisement the Congress party won 354 seats of the 484 seats. But the independence movement of which the Congress played the prime role was the main motivating force for this victory . The poems of the great poet Bharathiar, the sacrificing spirits of the great patriots  played a major role in the win but our 'Gopala' played his role to motivating us and informing us of the birth of a new Independent India!

The Domestic Front and the Great Wars

Managing even a well-oiled  organisation can prove to be a  big challenge for a HR department in this modern world. The old time sincerity  and lifelong commitment in which the Japanese excel themselves has become an exception to the rules. The rate at which attrition happens involves a mind boggling exercise of the HR people. They burn the midnight oil over Abraham Maslow's "A theory of human motivation", try to explore the physiological,  safety,  belonging, self-esteem angles in incentivising the good employees and at times secretly spying on the enemy territory over comparative comfort levels and expectations to make efficient people to stick on to the organisation. Head hunting is no more an immoral act and is encouraged with reference bonus!

You may wonder if this is the case what might happen in the  unorganised sector known as the 'domestic front' especially the elders who needed medical as well as physical assistance at home?!

 Like in Francis Thompson's  "The Hound of Heaven" "If the pulp so bitter how shall I taste the rind?"

Our Agent ("007") is an expert in this respect and at the  drop of the hat he could oblige with a new nursing  assistants, new nurses for my husband's parents. Attritions never bothered him.

But there is a hitch! In spite of this instant response the quality of his work force was dubious. His insertion of unqualified  nursing assistants in between gained notoriety! In case of a  complaint  about the rudeness and haphazard and shoddy work, he would go down on his knees  to get away with it  and enchant us in his endearing voice that he would be sending the best of the best for the next shift.

The added incentive in our house is the meals provided to them according to their shift and it was  wish of my father-in-law (FIL) whose generous village back ground continued to flourish in this metro too. And our 'agent' used this too as a  ploy to entice people!

The vivid experience from these varied human resources enhanced my understanding  of the diverse spectrum of life. And today I would like to share with you some of those.

The prediction that the third world war would be fought over water was proving itself true in our home front. What with the assortment of assistants, the return from the office compulsorily gave me unwanted privilege of a  judgment seat where each of the accused wanted the judge to defend them.

The show would start in this manner. I arrive at home around 6.30. in the evening.

"Madam are you tired.....?"

I was thorough with this prelude which was calm before a brooding storm.

"I am fine ... are you all ok....?" I start off  generically and of course, very  pleasantly

Madam I want to tell you something.......  I told that lady pointing out to the room (the nursing assistant in charge of my mother-in-law (MIL) and she didn't even want to utter her name) to wash her plate after meal.....  Is it wrong...?" our cook said.

" No... no... no... not at all... everyone has to wash their own plate clean for general hygiene......." I made a Wooster like generous and unoffending  statement!

"And just because I told her to wash it clean she insulted me  by having the tap water running over her single plate for 10 minutes. And that too when big Ayya ( The elder master of the house , my father-in-law) was telling me  to use the even the wash water in the garden."

If only this complaint had reached  my FIL's ears (big Ayya) hell  would  have broken loose... We were buying water then. FIL was very sure that half a bucket of  water  was more than sufficient  for a bath. 'Have a half  a bucket bath and save water' was his motto.  He didn't have any qualms on giving a catechism lesson over water preservation to the occasional house guests irrespective of their nationality. While  the locals were morose and at times angry on being told  off, the foreigners admired  the man and his lecture." "Oh you mean " Bucket Bath...."? or " Half A Bucket Bath?"  I will try this too...... I did the other one in Calcutta when I worked with Mother Theresa."

I come back to the cook's  grievance and try to pacify her. "Don't worry..... as of now she is helping the MIL in the toilet ...... I will call and talk to her"

She was disappointed... The anticipation of a  good  dressing-down from me, which would have been a soothing balm to her hurt ego was not coming forth from me.

Then it was the turn of the house cleaner.

 "Madam, the nurses should not take bath in our house and they think they are bathing in the river. When Big Ayya is sleeping they do this atrocity. And I am the one to get the scolding from him for wasting water  They have to use the outside toilet  meant for  servants. Like royalty they comb their hair and throw everything  inside the flush and look .....the flush is over flowing  now. The wash basin is filled with their spit and God knows whose paste they are using. You may think I am  bluffing but  I can take you there to show  their handiwork... and I am not a scavenger to clean every one's s..t. I am doing it out of respect and reverence for the elders and if you don't admonish them and ask them to do the right thing  you can look for someone else to do the job."

I am in a dilemma. Should I first tell off the nurses or call up our handyman to look into the toilet and bring it back to normalcy or pacify the cleaning lady and make sure of her daily presence ?!

One morning, one of the nursing assistant was crying copiously. She had taken off her golden ear stud with the dangle  for the night and kept it near the window and it was missing now. I didn't know what to do. Amidst the sobbing she said that she saw a black figure run across the back.

"Why didn't you shout then?" I asked

"I would wake up the patient..."

The black figure she was very particular was none than our watch man. She was bent upon  creating more problem and confusion in the house front.

How could I doubt  him  who was with us for more than a decade?

FIL was insistent that I buy her a new set. I couldn't say no. But I also didn't want  to undergo the trauma of taking her to the shop. I gave the more or less an equivalent amount.

From then on  I became shrewd enough to warn the nursing lot that any of their missing objects were at their own risk and the house cannot be held responsible for any loss.

And then there was a nurse,  quiet and docile smiling variety and very responsible too. One day as she jiggled the thermometer after taking the temperature it fell down and the mercury globules in turn went after her gold chain and lo behold  turned it white.

"Poor child..... " I thought " She deserves more consideration than the theft incident"

But  that was the end of her visit to 'Ratnas.'

The other day I had hit myself on the shelf door and the forehead had ballooned up and was looking for ice in the fridge. It was missing.

The cook and the cleaner had left for the day.

"I think I have forgotten to keep the ice." I said loudly  to myself

" Madam......"  a new nursing assistant  came running  "I am  fasting for the day and I took the ice to mix with my cool drink... I am sorry I took it without your permission..

Two tryas of ice..... for a cool drink?

"Sorry madam..... the iced drink keeps my hunger away..... My fasting started at 12 this afternoon and ends at noon tomorrow after the Sunday service is over.."

"Don't worry .....I will scrape the fridge upstairs.. But take care of your health.. The Lord might not like you over doing things...."   Holding my head  I walked in search of my oasis.

The night was a sleepless one for me. If the throbbing pain made me restless the heavy coughing from down made me wonder if it was my FIL  or MIL who was  sick and anyway made a mental note that a call to the doctor tomorrow morning was imminent.

When I went down in the morning the nursing assistant was in full regalia of a pure white sari and a long sleeved blouse. She had taken bath in the cold water and as an accompaniment  to the whole show she was coughing away to glory!

"I have finished my morning duties for madam.." she said in between her coughs " Waiting for the next shift person..."

"My God.........she should have right royally infected my MIL  the whole night......."

As I was orchestrating my thoughts on the mode of  admonishment to my 'Agent 007', my cook entered into the house and was shocked to see the nursing assistant. But without any comment she entered the kitchen and minded her own routine.

 In the meantime  the shift  changed and the Spartan  coughing figure had  left for the day.

The moment she left the place the cook called me aside. "Madam, why did you employ this lady....?"

"Mmmm ....it was the agent who sent her...." I said

"To hell with that man...... he should be a devil incarnate to send such people to mind the elders.... You know....... months back she was with the Amman temple  in yellow sari  with plenty of turmeric and kum kum (red powder) all over her, soothsaying to the people, swallowing burning camphor..... she should not be allowed inside the house."

Here is the lady who takes religions to their extremity , an out of bound God-botherer who swung between the burning camphor and the coldest cool drink and in the process infected a human in God's image.

My HR tenure and the related problems at the office  faded into insignificance compared to those I faced in my family front  and my learning curve was indeed heavily loaded dealing with this great complexity!

Great Search and Greater Resolve

When we  landed in the city of Chennai from Calcutta there were many surprises and the first in this series was the house hunting which I have shared with you in a blog and next one was concerning the servants. The ten long years' stay at Calcutta was a golden age in this regard. Though the place was the mother of all sorts of trade unions this sector of domestic servants was untouched  I think for ages the servitude of this class was visible  to the naked eyes! I would like to give a small example. If the servant was sweeping around the compound and if the land lord who lived upstairs used to pass through she had to drop the broom to the side and holding her sari close to her body with both her hands she had to bow her head till he was safe inside to the stairs!

 Even though I never expected this servility Chennai maids, it was utterly different from their counterparts  at Calcutta. They were very different....... more democratic to assert their rights and in comparison. the role were reversed. Instead of I specifying the duties it was they who were  specific of their duties  and the timings and stressed my duties towards them.

"I should have my morning hot  tea before I can start any work amma..... No left over things for me please... You can provide me the breakfast later.....I will bring my vessel for fresh lunch.  I will mop the house on Tuesdays and Fridays....... and   I will not do the washing..... blah..... blah ..blah" I was stunned. At Calcutta all the house work including washing was taken for granted and our house used to be mopped twice daily which was the norm. 

In this conditioned and democratic ambience I tried many a specimen.

A new one sort of satisfied our needs. If ever I tell her to do a work there never was a negative reply and it was just a nod. She was more like a western cow boy we see in the old time movies who has his revolver in his holster!  She had a similar gadget like the hip sling where she carried  a small treasure trove of a bag attached to her waist  filled with betel leaves betel nut tobacco ammunitions. Sitting on the floor she would diligently prepare with her little mortar and pestle before she started the work. Once this was done she would fill her mouth with the mixture and would be full of zip like our cow boy till she sat for the next session of ammunition filling!  Our whole house gained a permanent aroma of tobacco and we decided that this atmosphere was indeed a health hazard to the family.

Another specimen was tried out and she was not satisfied with my food. "It is lifeless " she complained and left.

And with another I acted like the Bishop Myriel in the great novel 'Les' Miserable' ignoring the small disappearances in the kitchen but when the silver rosary gifted by my mother in law did the vanishing act  my benevolence took a departure and that was the end of another story! 

And it turned out to be a continuous litany of woes with dirty uniforms, dusty shelves, unclean vessels  what with  late comings and absenteeism and the  attrition rate was unbelievably higher than a sophisticated IT organisation!

"Why is this happening to me who had a comfortable time with a single servant in a land of foreign language?" I wondered!

And one particular day I spelt out my melancholic tale s to my sister in law, who was then the mother superior and she consoled me that she would pray to our Lady to find a solution to my problem. And true her powerful prayer and focused intention she indeed came out with a solution.

"There is an young girl in a family known to me....." she said " Her father is a cancer patient with one of his leg amputated and the mother is an agricultural labourer. Her elder brother is doing some technical course and the younger one is in the elementary school. The parents are looking for a good house where she can work and have  three square meals and earn something which can be saved for her marriage. What do you think about it?" she enquired

Having a house bound servant was indeed a new model for me. How do I accommodate her and what sort of influence she would be on my two children? My mind out rightly refused this paradigm shift.

"Give it a try..." my hubby said " Worse come worse we can send her back."

With reluctance we decided to go ahead

So for the first time we had a house bound servant!

"Child labour" my conscience pricked me

"But you are helping the girl and the family" the other side of mine tried to convince me.

This new recruit landed in our house as a little girl probably 10 or 11, even though she smiled at me I could feel that she was frightened. I patted her and asked her to eat the lunch.

As soon as she finished her food she collected all the plates and the vessels cleansed them and the kitchen too!

The girl got up before me for her bath, collected the milk and got things ready for breakfast. The kitchen was spic and span with all the vessels washed the night before and mopped thoroughly. With her pleasant face she endeared herself to our foursome house hold!

She loved to cook and learnt the tricks of the trade fast.

"Shall we prepare some snacks this evening akka?"

This smiley request was a bonus  which I couldn't refuse. For the children coming back from school the pleasant  anticipation of a good evening spread instead of the boring biscuits had become a habit now! We celebrated Tamil New year's day  with a sumptuous banana leaf feast with kolams drawn in the village style. Deepavali and Christmas were celebrated with equal fervour!

With this kind of  non-monitoring and non-supervising happy addition to the family, it had created plenty of leisure time for me.

Then I took the decision to teach this wonderful girl. She knew the Tamil alphabets.  We progressed through various stages of reading and writings and being a quick and enthusiastic learner. Over a year she improved so much that I contemplated on sending her for her 10th standard government exam privately.

One more thing I found special in her was that she was fond of reading Tamil poems and Bharathiyar was her favourite.  Both of us enjoyed  singing along the women liberation songs by that great man!

The proverb "Good things don't last forever" proved true in our case. One fine day her parents landed up in Chennai.

"Amma...... "he said "we want our girl to get married......."

"But she is too young to get married....."

"Amma ......the  government has announced scheme for the poor girls who are getting married....."

 I was angry

"But I am having a plan to make her do the 10th standard so that she could get a job..... even a government one...... and mind you she is not yet 18, the marriageable age even according your calculation.."

"But amma where do I go for an educated bridegroom for my girl...?  A person who has done his 10th standard and unemployed  demands a big motorcycle and a gold chain..... The VAO of my village will definitely help me regarding her birth certificate......"

I looked at her mother's face. It was expressionless.

Our girl was crying copiously. All my arguments to defend her stay proved futile in the face of his helplessness and poverty.

Then there was  no contact except the wedding invitation. Our gift went in the form of money order. One or two letters I had written went unanswered.

Then the miracle happened. After many years we were attending a function at Madurai and there I met my girl. She looked sad.

I hugged her and enquired about the general wellbeing.

"Everything fine akka....." But the enthusiasm was missing 

A son and a daughter was the fulfilling  events in her otherwise listless life.

Just to keep the conversation going I asked her the name of her daughter.

"Sakthi Bharathi, akka....."  The way she announced the name took me by surprise with her determination reflected in each syllable of that name.

"Come what may I am there to create a hybrid class of  my girl child with the  best of  education which I missed in my life and I would  make sure that none can interfere in this my decision." is what I gathered from my assistant's tone and the memory of the afternoons came flooding back when we used to sing together our dear Bharathiar's poems liberating women from the traditional house bound variety!
At that very moment I reminisced my mother who in spite of having 6 daughters in the family of 10children resolved to educate all of them living in a society where elementary education was the highest qualification for any female child. That she didn't bother about the sarcastic comments and  the accompanying mockery made her a heroine amongst the family at a later date when they followed her foot steps !!

The Tree of Life

Some years ago I met a cousin of mine who was a lorry driver with two daughters. When I congratulated him on giving a good education to both of them which landed them in very decent and well paid jobs he told me "Akka (sister) it was not easy ... with a single earning we managed the show how to lead a frugal life. You know there were times when we could not even afford proper vegetables and  my wife used to cook either Murungai (drumstick) leaves or the fruits for days together."

I was sad that the family had to get along with such meagre food. As young children we too used to murmur and mourn over the repeated use of the various parts of the Murungai tree in the cooking whenever we visited the village during the summer vacation!

We were living in Calcutta for about ten years and unlike Chennai the fish and vegetable  markets comes alive early in the morning and unlike Chennai it was the gentlemen of the family who evaluated and justified  the quality of the fish and bargained over them. Apart from this wonderment (of male dominated shopping for fish) another revelation for me was  the murungai. I was astonished  at the heaps of the creamish white murungai flowers and the very tender of murungai fruits filling the market and the demand for them equalled that of the fish!

     Back at Chennai the land of murungai we were on a visit to St. Anne's convent at Vettuvangeni. The time was around eleven in the morning and the mother superior invited us  for a cuppa. In the centre of the dining space was a big vessel containing some watery hot soup. I was  curious . "This is drumstick leaf soup my dear...." The superior quenched my curiosity!  Heart in heart I wondered " Can't the convent afford some nice juice to energise the nuns who rushed from their various work place during the short morning break instead of this  measly soup? Should they be so miserly? "

I visited one of my friend's house unannounced and  there I watched in wonderment at her little girl straight from school in her uniform with a plate full of  drum stick pieces  from the sambar (dhal gravy) relishing it to her heart's content by chewing each piece till the last bit of juice oozed into her system! "Poor child, my friend could go for good snack instead" I was upset!

But I needed great lot of personal learning to the  recognize the value of frequent use of drumstick in the village, the drumstick leaf soup on the convent's dining table and of those pieces of drumsticks on the child's plate  and say a 'mea culpa' on the unnecessary pity I had for my cousin's family!!

 And here it goes:

For so many years, the thrice a year, my blood test which we took for granted as a routine exercise was not giving the right indication this time.  My RBC count fell below normal and we were taken aback. On the advice of a research doctor in pharmacology, I reluctantly started consuming drumstick leaf soup and lo behold after a week's consumption the blood analysis revealed that my count hath indeed climbed up!

Moringa Oleifera, the name derived from our own murungai tree,  a native of the southern foothills of the Himalayas contains more than 92 nutrients, 46 types of anti-oxidants, 36 anti-inflammatory agents as well as vitamins A, B1, B2, B3, B4, B7, C, D, E, and K. Another amazing benefit is that, since it can retain high concentrations of electrolytes and minerals, it allows the body to remain internally hydrated even in very dry conditions.

This apart, the leaves can provide us with around 125 per cent of our daily requirements of calcium as well as 61 per cent of our daily manganese needs; given that these two minerals have to be taken together for better absorption, the leaves majorly enhance bone and teeth health.

The very high iron content, 24 times higher than spinach, makes the murungai a strong ally against anaemia!

It is no wonder that the tree is known as the "The Tree of Life, Mother’s Best Friend, The Miracle Tree, The Auspicious Tree."

Whenever I travel I used to wonder why the slum areas  flourish with murungai trees and wonder of wonders they seem to proliferate in these locales so much that they bear hundreds of these luscious long green beauties than in any other region !!

 Is it nature's balancing bounty of supplementing  the poor man's diet?!!

I would love to end this thesis on murungai on a very interesting and highly nutritional note

Fidel Castro, the past president of Cuba who passed away recently, is known as the connoisseur of 'fine food and good wine' enjoyed the murungai soup. When he was down with stomach ailment considered to be cancer 2012  he credited his recovery to murungai. He had got his aides to bring him drumstick seeds from Kerala and Tamil Nadu, and had them cultivated for his daily diet and called the plant the “miracle” from India.

The combined wisdom  which made our ancestors grow  a  drumstick tree at their back yard ensure nutritional security, the perception of the mother superior and my friend to carry through this ancient wisdom to this modern day astounded me  and even though I have a few murungai trees at my backyard  never once in my life I thought that I have a treasure trove for good health at my beck and call.

p. s:

Like everything else  in life moderation is the essence in this heath giving tonic.

To give lusciousness to the cooked fruit  please don't remove the outer skin when cutting it into pieces. The taste is in the outer skin!

Herbal concoction and the Allopathic Mixture

The one thing  that is viewed with contempt in my household is sickness in any form! When I come back from school with burning eyes and the whole body  slumping to the ground unable to carry the  yellow cloth school bag and the heavy brass tiffin box, aching for the much needed solace, my  father, with the badminton racket in hand  (a great believer in  outdoor activities!!!) would say " Go play for some time.... you will be fine." Angrily throwing my bag I would curl myself  at the corner of the room . But this indication would not shake him to utter a few comforting words. With a happy tune on his lips, and a thoughtless utterance " You will be ok before I come back" he would ride off in his bicycle for a game or two with his gang!   Mother who was always busy would come to me with concern with the routine question "Did you hurt yourself in the school?" If I nodded to indicate 'no' the next will be a more sensitive one hurting  your conscience "Did anyone buy you the stick ice?" I would  shake my head vehemently looking a bit hurt that mother should ask such a question bordering disobedience to  one of her many commandments. 

You may wonder why the question was that someone should buy rather than "Did you buy a stick ice?"

"The no money with the children" was one of her prime policy in our household. She would discourage the guests coming home from giving cash gifts to the children. But if some insistent guest thrusts the cash  with us " the immediate surrender of the same" was the prevailing unwritten rule!

 Coming back to our main story after this initial interrogation  the great specialist (of course my mother)  would begin her in-depth analysis ! With her helping hand she would make  me to stand up and touch my forehead  and say "Yes...... the fever is high....."  After this pronouncement I would automatically lift my blouse to show my tummy for the next scrutiny. She would slowly go through each segment to identify any spot in the region.....This  test is done to make sure that I didn't have measles or chicken pox...... Any one of this starts with an indigestive stomach. Satisfied and thanking God that it was neither of those contagious variety lest it spread to the other children she would ask me to lie down and provide the mat a pillow and a bed sheet and sleep till she prepared her tested and proven herbal concoction.....  She had the pending duty of a night meal too!

The only concession during this phase was that you were not asked to participate in the hour long night prayers." Lie down and listen piously." would be the generic command

 On ordinary times where a strict vigil over the younger siblings was the responsibility of the elder ones who engaged themselves in this duty with a dictatorial vehemence!

The herbal medicine is the colour of a rainbow. a conglomeration  of odd tastes heavily tilting (like the violet shade)   towards bitterness . An unavoidable vomiting would result in a hard slap since the preparation in itself was a time consuming tedious process. 

The belief system that an empty stomach is the primal point of a curative process  made sure that no food was  available for the patient except  for a  twice cooked thin watery rice porridge once a day. Rest of the day was literally filled with the boiled water in the wood burnt stove with its smoky smell which was another  punishment for the sick person.  Added to that as his contribution to curative process my dad would annoy you with a stern statement " Yes my dear girl, you can go to school tomorrow isn't it? "On the whole the system staunchly stood like the formidable Goliath against the sickness in the family!

There is a saying in Tamil that any feast or any medicine should not last beyond three days. If the herbal decoction consumed for three days wouldn't prove to be effective  the next option was to go the doctor for allopathic medicine.

Our doctor was not a specialist in any field of medicine. In fact he was not even an MBBS! He held some licence to practice medicine. This dark, plump  five foot man with a slight filarial swelling in one leg wearing white dhoti and  shirt  with an angavasthiram (A pristine creamy white silk towel with gold edging and folded like a fan) was indeed like a majestic king for us with his greatest gift of a big smile and a healing touch! His clinic always overflowed. Even today  I can relish his smile with all his teeth placed at a distance from each other. Since he was our distant relative he fondly called him thatha (grandpa)!

Early in the morning he used to come to a clinic two street away from ours. As the bullock cart turned to our street we could make out that theta's vehicle was going by the distinct jingling sound of the bells of the bullock. If anyone of us was standing outside he would give his big smile and wave his hand. If he was not in a hurry he would ask the cart driver to stop the vehicle. This was a big excitement for us.. As he came inside the house and if  we were standing half dressed in the process of getting ready to school, we would rush inside to put on a dress. All of us including mum and dad would kneel in front of him to get his blessings. He would enquire about our studies and made us feel at home without going into the silly details like marks, rank, et,. which is today's fashion. On ordinary days, he was too busy to eat but when he came home during Xmas season he would enjoy eating amma’s ghee laddus and praise the taste sky high!

I am not very sure why we didn’t visit his clinic which was close by to our house. May be that was someone else’s clinic where he was working  for some hours every day. Whenever we became extremely sick and incurable by mother’s home made concoctions thatha’s clinic  was the last resort. His clinic was at the other end of our busy town . As we were very young father would make us sit at the back seat of his Hercules cycle and fold our legs and tie them up lightly with a towel lest we fall asleep and tumble down on the road.

A visit to thatha’s clinic always carried a mixed feeling. While the boiling injection needles in a basin (That was the time when disposable injection needles were unknown and Theo’s needle industry at Ooty was doing a roaring business.) and the exhibits of big bottles of liquid medicine in a row and the compounder seriously powdering the pills in a big pestle and mortar would terrorise  you creating fertile goose pimples all through the system. The big smile of thatha pacified you and his sprawling palatial house ( our house can easily fit in a corner) excited you!!

"Please go inside and say hi to ammachi." he would say

 His wife whom we called ammachi with her soft spoken affectionate nature was a person God had rightly chosen for thatha. She would welcome us with a cute smile and  Ovaltine  an elite drink unavailable in our house!

 As the crowd got leaner we go into the clinic. Thatha would examine me with his stethoscope "Can I give you an injection....." He would say.  With the speed of light I hide myself behind father.

"I was joking my dear, come here" he would beckon me and call the compounder and instruct him about the medicine which invariably was a liquid which we called  'mixture'.  We bade good bye to thatha without paying a fee which was the norm!

Though thatha's medicine was not  bitter as mother's herbal one  it had  a very bad taste. But mother would make sure that we swallowed the dose indicated by a paper marker on the medicine bottle. With three doses  the sickness story should come to an end  and it was back to the routine!

 I want to  end this sick story on a pleasant note. We were in Pondicherry for a wedding. Wandering along through the various phases of life I lost touch  with the olden golden days and was pleasantly surprised when a young man who recognised me and introduced himself as the grandson of my doctor (thatha)  and his wife and the little son standing nearby smiled at us.  It was lunch time and was a buffet. After all of us settle down at a table  I continued to reminisce about our dear doctor thatha.....

"Your boy is missing..."I tell them

But he was coming from the buffet spread holding two bowls of soup in his hands!

"Poor boy...... should be very hungry....."

"This is for you both....." he smilingly placed the bowls in front of us both.

I was taken aback......what am I witnessing now....? Is it a miracle....?!!  The biggest smile of dear old doctor (thatha) was beaming in front of my eyes!

And I lost control of myself.......! I hugged the darling boy!!