From: paulchem@tigger.cs.Colorado.EDU (Icarus)
Subject: Chettuva -- [ Nostalgia ] -- Icarus.
Organization: University of Colorado, Boulder
Date: Thu, 30 Jul 1992 00:09:44 GMT

1] 
  Sitting in the guest room that had been converted to a
  library, looking up from the old tattered copy of Dr. Zhivago
  that I had found by accident among my uncles books, I
  am lost in Lara and her way of holding her hands while she
  helps Yuri clean the carpet as they fought off the russian
  winter holed up in a cottage somewhere near moscow.
  
  There are photographs on the wall.
  All the marriages that have been held in the family since
  photographs came to kerala are documented in painstaking detail.
  Mother, Aunts, Uncles and the usual funeral photographs with the
  whole family gathered around the coffin, tearful and uneasy.
  Black and white, touched with the sepia of age and neglect.

  I remember when we would visit my mothers house, so far away
  it would seem in those days, in engandiyur, on the other side
  of the chetttuva puzha, a beautiful lagoon that divided the
  cultures of our people.


  We would travel in a private bus from guruvayoor to chettuva,
  rolling from side to side, sitting in one of the last seats,
  because mom would never walk all the way to the bus stop,
  but insisted we stop the bus in front of our house, with a
  wave of the left hand. I secretly practised this wave alone.
  I noticed that some people waved better than others. Dad could
  make any bus stop with a slight flick of his hand. While
  my cousin would have to stand in the middle of the road to get
  some attention.

  Not that my cousin found standing in the middle of the road forcing
  a bus to a standstill a perturbing task. He did it every week or so
  with his friends in the S.F.I. when some student in Trivandrum
  was slapped by some irate bus conductor. Sometimes of course they
  did it even if there was no one slapped, just in case they would
  forget how to do it if they stopped for too long.
  

  I would watch the "Mala", the necklace, that would be hung around
  the picture of the presiding deity for that trip, swing from side
  to side as the driver forced the bus through narrow ravine like
  passages taking abrupt turns, from memory. 
  When I had the chance, I would watch the drivers face.
  When he frowned there must be another bus trying to overtake him.
  When he smiled, one could look over to the side and watch some
  hapless lady dressed in white splattered with the fine paste of mud that
  collected in the potholes and on the sides of those broken down
  weary roads.


  I remember Gopi in the celebrated film "Kodikeyyettam", which means
  "the flag raising" , take his newly wed wife to the temple,
  walking along those treacherous roads. A jeep comes racing down the road
  and splashes muddy water all over the couple. And Gopi in a perfect
  portrayal of a childs mind can only look at the fast receding jeep
  and say with a admiring smile on his face, "Enthoru Speedah", 
  --- "What incredible speed !", while his wife is nearly in tears.


  When John and I went to church we always spent the time discussing
  fish bait and the horrible things we would do to those who opposed
  our plans to raid the kitchen cabinets for Achchapams and related
  goodies. Later of course we graduated to arguing about the merits
  of one chastely dressed woman or the other.
  But once when we were in a heated discussion about Bruce Lee and
  his exploits the priest, now well into his sermon, suddenly said
  "John !", and my cousin stood up in the middle of the whole 
  congregation that had been long seated, and the priest continued
  "paranjyatandeh", -- John, has said -- referring to John the 
  Baptist of course, while my cousin scratched his knee and pretended
  he was shifting positions. To this day, even though he is a tough
  guy in the army, he flares when I mention this to him.

  We would arrive at chettuva and there would be a tremendous rush to 
  get off the bus. There was a ferry at chettuva that carried people
  from one bank to the other. And if the ferry was on the side of
  the arriving bus, there would be a stampede, even though no 
  one could remember an occasion when anyone was left on shore because
  the ferry was too full. For twenty paise you bought a ticket and
  hopped on board. The ferry had a plank attached to it, supported by two
  vanjis, -- canoes ---, that would take on cars and motorcycles and some
  times even vans. 

  It was only when you were on board that you looked up at the other bank,
  and saw it for the first time. Kerala would seem like a paradise.
  The coconut trees grow so thickly along the bank that from far it appears
  as a solid green curtain. And the water flowing rapidly but calmly past
  you, as the cars that came on board sunk the boats a few more inches into
  the water. The clumps of hyacinth that floated over the calmer parts of
  the lagoon and clogged the ponds came bobbing out to sea. Those waters
  would make a gurgling sound, flowing past the ferry while it made the
  two right angle turns in mid stream to allow for the plank that carried
  the cars to be aligned with the bank. 
  One never notices the barnacles that grow into the concrete blocks
  that guard the bank against erosion, until the ferry makes the last 
  turn and cuts its engines, the landing ropes thrown and fastened 
  on a huge granite post, and the bank glides in to meet the ferry.
  And suddenly you are back on land and the friendships that you have
  made during this twenty minute ride dissolve and you make a run for
  "Babu Mon",the bus that has been waiting to whisk you away into the
  cashew laden glades that have begun to throw long shadows in the
  six O clock sunset.

  Ramu Kariayat, the man who made "chemmeen", the movie that starred
  Satyen and won the Presidents award and international acclaim, had
  an obsession with the Chettuva puzha and wanted to film "Chettuva"
  but he died in mid project.

  It wouldnt matter anyway. A bridge was constructed 4 years ago and
  crossing the chettuva has been reduced to a mild five minute thrill
  in a bus.

2] As always critiques welcome.
   I have not paid much attention to grammar or style.
   After all this is memory.
   I have written it in one pass.

3] Stay Cool.

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.    ~ ~                                                                     .
.    o o      signito ergo sum.              paul chemmanoor.                .
.     |    i sign therefore i am.            Computer Science department.    .
.     =                                      Univ. of Colorado, Boulder.     .
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