Revathi is a superAji, an Aji raised to infinity, living in Trichur, 92 years old, part-deaf, whispering like the wind in the older peepal tree in the garden, in a dilapidated old manlike home, doorless and broken windowed; a dark brown teak cot is her residence for noting down in Malayalam a family history of the Menons. She has been there for 92 years. The book became a live show for 250 members of the family from Trichur to Toronto and of course, Dubai, last month with prayers and payasams. They call it Kutumba Sangamam, a handshaking of generations across time for the first time; a 2016 Malayali rite; money does not count; status unsniffed. Me was at the near end of a morning walk when someone hailed an 'Edo'; me turned to spot 70 plus Akash Menon, fresh from a three months stay in Trichur and a 'naadu, naadu thanne'; naadu for a Malayali is not a nation,a state or a republic; it is a space in the heart with coconut trees, paadams (fields), wooden benches of a potti kada with tea and paruppu wada in scarred, glass cases; and talk of Oomen Chandy, Sarita as in printed copies of Mathrubhoomi and Manorama. Switching off a persistent ipad, Akash elaborated on paruppu wadas and chais in green mornings; 'oru sukham (some happiness); not to be had anywhere but in naadu. Took time out for a mandatory Guruvayur and then it was preparing for the Kutumba Sangamam. Revathi with a young great-great grand-daughter Neelam operating an ipad, got across the world for the Trichur Meet, a happier event than Davos. Revathi has watered a 4-generation old family tree, their mobiles, their addresses, their names and their placements on the branches and was surprised by her memory. The Menon family has many ghosts, some live and as many yet to turn ghosts; was not sure if the ghosts were around that day. Menon grew up in a family of 70 with a karanavar lording the show; none could trespass him except the occasional pranthan, madman; played with some 25 kids; had acres of land sprouting rice and every other thing a Malayali kitchen needs; there was a delivery room, for pregnant women, ' and it was never empty,' chuckled Menon; then EMS gave the land, which the Menons owned, never tilled, to the tiller; Menons stood in ration queues; but that was for about 10 years; followed the typewriter migrations to Bombay, Calcutta and New Delhi, throwing up in the flow a V.P. Menon, a close aide of Sardar Patel, doing away with kings and queens. Followed Dubai and in recent years New Zealand and Tornoto. 'As long as there are coconut trees in the naadu, there will be Malayalis,' affirms Menon. Akash Menon and Revathi walked daily to the family temple in a near-gone tharavdu space; earned blessings and the Kutumba Sangamam roared to videos and selfies; met, unknowns, met knowns; no Menon is alone.
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
Kutumba Sangamam
Revathi is a superAji, an Aji raised to infinity, living in Trichur, 92 years old, part-deaf, whispering like the wind in the older peepal tree in the garden, in a dilapidated old manlike home, doorless and broken windowed; a dark brown teak cot is her residence for noting down in Malayalam a family history of the Menons. She has been there for 92 years. The book became a live show for 250 members of the family from Trichur to Toronto and of course, Dubai, last month with prayers and payasams. They call it Kutumba Sangamam, a handshaking of generations across time for the first time; a 2016 Malayali rite; money does not count; status unsniffed. Me was at the near end of a morning walk when someone hailed an 'Edo'; me turned to spot 70 plus Akash Menon, fresh from a three months stay in Trichur and a 'naadu, naadu thanne'; naadu for a Malayali is not a nation,a state or a republic; it is a space in the heart with coconut trees, paadams (fields), wooden benches of a potti kada with tea and paruppu wada in scarred, glass cases; and talk of Oomen Chandy, Sarita as in printed copies of Mathrubhoomi and Manorama. Switching off a persistent ipad, Akash elaborated on paruppu wadas and chais in green mornings; 'oru sukham (some happiness); not to be had anywhere but in naadu. Took time out for a mandatory Guruvayur and then it was preparing for the Kutumba Sangamam. Revathi with a young great-great grand-daughter Neelam operating an ipad, got across the world for the Trichur Meet, a happier event than Davos. Revathi has watered a 4-generation old family tree, their mobiles, their addresses, their names and their placements on the branches and was surprised by her memory. The Menon family has many ghosts, some live and as many yet to turn ghosts; was not sure if the ghosts were around that day. Menon grew up in a family of 70 with a karanavar lording the show; none could trespass him except the occasional pranthan, madman; played with some 25 kids; had acres of land sprouting rice and every other thing a Malayali kitchen needs; there was a delivery room, for pregnant women, ' and it was never empty,' chuckled Menon; then EMS gave the land, which the Menons owned, never tilled, to the tiller; Menons stood in ration queues; but that was for about 10 years; followed the typewriter migrations to Bombay, Calcutta and New Delhi, throwing up in the flow a V.P. Menon, a close aide of Sardar Patel, doing away with kings and queens. Followed Dubai and in recent years New Zealand and Tornoto. 'As long as there are coconut trees in the naadu, there will be Malayalis,' affirms Menon. Akash Menon and Revathi walked daily to the family temple in a near-gone tharavdu space; earned blessings and the Kutumba Sangamam roared to videos and selfies; met, unknowns, met knowns; no Menon is alone.
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