Playing Fair and Square on the Green Fields

The scene is the cricket match between India and the West Indies during the recent WorldCup.  Sachin Tendulkar is batting.  He has barely faced a few balls when one races through his arm-pad and lands in the wicket keeper’s gloves. There is no appeal—neither from the bowler nor from the wicket keeper. But Tendulkar is walking toward the pavilion. The players are stumped! And so are the million audiences over the world! Tendulkar realized perhaps that the ball had indeed grazed his forearm and so without waiting for the umpire’s decision he retired.  While in the commentary box the erstwhile icons of Indian Cricket Sunil Gavaskar and Ravi Sastri debated the issues and virtues of “walking” the play resumed.

Now, we in the present appear to have forgotten the fact that cricket is a game to be played with the sportsman spirit it calls for. In all fairness Tendulkar had demonstrated it albeit the fact that he was playing for a country and that there are enormous amounts of money involved in the whole process. After all, the entire industry of Indian cricket and the business of the World Cup with its whole rigmarole of mega crowds, hoardings, televisions and their ubiquitous commercials, big business offers and betting and so on, revolves round the strategic issue of big money. How could anyone deny that? The spirit of play may be one thing, but the spirit that runs the whole thing is another. In this context what has playing fair and square got to do with the game?

And what is game? What is play? What is fair and square in the field and off the field?  All games we must recognize are essentially sport, which entails entertainment, recreation, and exercise primarily. There is a whole history of human sports that would trace its evolution from the primordial ritual to the contemporary scenario of big Capitalist business. There is also the implied connection with war and destruction and domination: all contemporary games at the international level (and even at its minor levels) are perhaps symbolic versions of battles and wars—a mockery of the all consuming, vindictive passions of the human being!

            Game, Sports, Play—almost synonymous, but each are descriptive of different issues. Game as it is usually understood, is something innocuous, non-violent, played out for the sheer pleasure of it all, and for the most enjoyable and involving little or no disastrous physical violence. It has a beginning, middle and an end—there is a marked difference between the before and after in terms of the protagonists as well as the spectators; above all there is entertainment and enjoyment for all in a game. Sports I would categorize in the similar manner as one that involves outdoor, physical activities, for the most. Entertainment and enjoyment there is, no doubt. There is a game in Sport and there is a sport in game as well. But the point is that all games and sports have their own set of rules which are purely arbitrary, having evolved over the years over cultures and times. In simplistic terms we could even state that all games and sports are products of sets of rules—they keep varying of course, but their visible presence (read umpires, referees, field book etc) and invisible presence (read time, place, action etc) account for the structure of all games and sports. However, the concept of play is something rather loose. It has a structure, no doubt, but this is an ambiguous, amorphous and protean structure, very loose and almost a non-entity, as when children get together and play about.

All three words have conceptual backgrounds; their own socio-political, cultural, economic and historical dimensions too. The proto game-sport-play is of course shrouded in human prehistory. It has necessarily evolved over many centuries.  One could trace its graph from ritual to the romance of the Capitalist market economics of the present. However, there are these sets of rules that govern the logic and pattern of the game that is disrupted if not observed in practice. Rules, we recognize are invisible (or visible as the case may be)–threads that govern, condition and control all sports and games. The rules themselves are arbitrary and not nor never absolute, and this is what makes sports and games entertainment. For instance from the long colonial structure of a five day test match (with a rest day in between) how far has cricket come these days!  When Kerry Packer invited major players to a fifty-over limited version of the game there was so much hue and cry over the sanctity of the test match structure and its disruption. Nothing sanctified was violated but the limited over cricket game evolved and attracted more viewers and audience. Commerce and market caught on and the television and technology supplemented the game. From there to the twenty-twenty rules and regulations have been altered and amended from time to time: nothing has remained inviolable, everything was open to transformation, change. All it required was convenience, consent and consensus. All rules are subject to change, very much like human history. We play on.

Jacques Derrida the harbinger of deconstruction—a veritable destructive and reconstructive practice of re-reading and reinterpreting interpretations themselves—initiated the whole issue of recognizing the play element in human sciences while delivering a significant address in the mid sixties in the Johns Hopkins University in the US [See Jacques Derrida, “Structure, Sign and Play in the Discourse of the Human Sciences,” Alan Bass, tr. Writing and Difference (1966), pp. 278-95)]. According to him, human history (read western history of ideas) has been one structured round the idea of centre and periphery. It has been a virtual centre that has potentially ruled, manipulated and conditioned the structured thinking of the human being (read western). The invisibility of a centre that could be transcendentally present within a system maintaining the stability of the system without undergoing any change in itself has been the mainstay of western history of ideas. There have been no doubt many attempts to overthrow or discard this centre but for the most these attempts have been toward replacements rather than any displacements.  As Derrida demonstrated, western history of ideas has revolved round such invisible centres. If one were to think of the idea of a god as the centre, one could almost logically close off all doubtful positions—all elements within the circle of the invisible structures are created, organized and maintained by god, and while he/she is at the indispensible centre all else is locked. The various elements within this system cannot bring any change to the centre, while they themselves could be changed. From Derrida’s reading the process of western structural change has been from god as the centre through science and rationality in turn replacing god as the centre.  There has been virtually no change in the system even when such transplanting take place. This could perhaps account for the system’s stability.  It is however when the element of play enters that a new discourse comes to be created. When the centre remains invisible and unaltered play is possible for all elements within a given structure. But this is playing within the structured rules of the game—playing fair and square. This element of play could be unending if one could imagine a structure without a centre, because then all the elements with and without the system would be constantly in a state of play!  This just like a kindergarten class-room without a teacher in the middle!  Utter chaos?  Sheer confusion? But a recognition of total freedom, no doubt! However, the moment the teacher enters the class-room the system is restored to its harmonious structure.

The implications of Derrida’s concepts can be seen in close examining a totalizing situation where everything is dictatorially controlled and maintained. Human freedom is at stake here. So then, play reintroduces the element of human freedom, the recognition of the very condition of human existence. This is play at its extreme. When all totalizing systems collapse (like the state withering away) then the extreme conditions of entertainment and ecstasy would be revealed in play. We have come very far from the idea of play we started out with.  But we are armed with new insights.  When Tendulkar walked away from the crease he probably never even dreamed of all these possibilities. He was playing fair and square on the green fields! But he was also making a statement that rules and regulations are invisibly present in the game and this sport is essentially a play that needed to be played out within a structure– an arbitrary system– that is always open-ended. Many new transformations could be padded on to these rules—much could be changed, but for the most there is an implied idea of entertainment and ecstasy within a set of rules at a given time—all players have to adhere to that. Some of course play fair and square, others might wait for the umpires to dismiss them—still others would appeal to the third umpire loaded with his techno-tools and rule-books and strategic calculations. But the point of it all: heroes are made within the set of invisible rules–  to play well is sometimes strategically to break the rules, to go beyond the boundaries, but the play within the imaginary rules is sometimes even more magnificent.

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http://smuralis.wordpress.com

Samuel Beckett Dramatist and Artist of Silence

Samuel Beckett

Night Heron –Poem

Red trees

in evening’s

darkening

glow.

Breeze,

cat-footed,

stealthy,

alert.

Like

an ashen bird’s

first

awakening,

your

eyes

take in

the night.

Eight

night herons

voyage on.

Eight

silent

pilgrims,

or

prospectors.

In the distance,

mountains

loom,

like destiny.

With

the bitter

reluctance

of a waking child

a star

begins

to blink; the

landscape

blurs.

No more

the song

of the cicadas—

here let us

part.

And

peel off

the pearly

flowers

of rainy

afternoons,

one by one,

only to move on

like

night herons.

Note: This poem first appeared in Chandrabhaga in the early eighties. Later it was included in the poetry volume titled Night Heron: Poems and Sketches (Calcutta: Writers Workshop, 1998)

A Wild Thorn

A Wild Thorn.

Avidya and Advaita

Swami Vivekananda stood for a long time allowing his gazing eye to wander all over the stormy waters around him. He was now in the southern tip of the Indian peninsula, at Kanya Kumari the seat of the goddess Mahishasuramardhini, the destroyer of the demon Mahisha. Here the three great seas merged—the Bay of Bengal, the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea came together in a great confluence. Earlier, he had asked a local fisherman to ferry him across to the jutting rock face a few meters into the sea, but the man had refused because the sea was too rough. Nothing could keep Vivekananda back from his destiny—he jumped into the raging sea and braving the current swam across to the rock face. Even to this day there is a shrine built on those rocks to commemorate the Saint’s presence. Vivekananda was shocked at the inhuman system of caste hierarchy prevalent in those parts in those days. He termed it a madhouse of superstition and segregation. Even today things have hardly changed, if not in one way but another. Those men in power –the present day politician princes– drunk with the potency of power drive around in huge flocks of cars and vans driving all human traffic away. When a politician prince moves over the highway there will be a pilot streaming with blaring horns ahead and over open windows many men will throw their arms out and wave away all commoners on their path as though the common folk are so negligent as to be non existent. Nothing can or should obstruct the way of power politics. Whether it be in religion or politics we humans are indeed so stupid as to consider ourselves superior to the other in body and soul. Granted a politician’s time is rather precious most often and any delay could be quite decisive, but so is the quality of time and space for all men and women. And now what right does a single individual have in pushing his/her way through?

A Victorian poet wrote:… that men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher things!  Rising on their own dead selves to higher things is a process of erasing the ego and arousing the spirit within. However, trampling and treading on other selves to promote their own ungainly selves is still the sick decease of present day actuality. We pride ourselves in having built civil societies of equal opportunity for all and social equity for all. And our religious literature and thought have already scaled great and glorious heights. Human achievements are unimaginably high, and human societies have collectively reached hitherto unreachable heights of excellence and material plenitude. Nevertheless we have hardly changed.

There is a curious but equally mean tale that goes like this: A deal had been stuck between a Japanese company and an Indian company for exporting live crabs from India to Japan. Now when the first packages arrived the Japanese wrote to their Indian counterparts: “Many thanks for the great work you are doing. But, pray, tell us how you manage to export live crabs in open containers?”  “Simple,” wrote the Indian exporters in reply, “simple, indeed! Remember they are from India.  If one crab attempts to scramble up to the open end the other crab would pull it down! So none can escape!” Such is the lethal cut-throat level to which physical and material competition has come to be in this part of the world! Politics and spirituality are two sides of the same paper—tear one you tear the other. And competition is a matter of ego based on the stupid assumption that the physical self is of prime importance. The information-rich society that we have built around us is a huge market place where all values are simply prices, and all wealth is bound around avarice and greed of the advancing physical self that elbows itself around, pushing and pulling. All that we are informed or are interested in being informed is about how to promote ourselves. As Nietzsche derisively wrote: “All waters are impure where the rabble also drinks!”  And the rabble is the majority. The minority that is practically effaced is content to sleep the deep sleep of pretentious ignorance. After all, all life is a mind game, and once we have laid aside our humanness all that remains is our sordid petty self of ignorance and meanness. This is what Sankara terms Avidya. He distinguishes between Vidya (knowledge) and Avidya (Ignorance). This ignorance is not the binary opposite of knowledge, but both are complementaries, extending into one another. Avidya is nescience,absence of knowledge.

The modern day politician who sears  through the crowded streets with a pilot car making the way clear for him with horns blaring and arms waving through the open windows is of course so ignorant of what he or she is doing in this world of so called democracy. It is said that once while Sankaracharya was walking down the steps toward the Ganges in Benares he was confronted by a Chandala, a person of low birth walking up the steps leading a couple of hounds on a belt. The jagatguru’s alarmed disciples tried to wave him off the saint’s path but the man stood his ground and stared straight at the Saint. Sankara himself was a little taken aback at this audacity of a lower caste person and quizzically raised his brows.  The Chandala asked him: what are you waving off your path? Me or my body? Isnt my body made of the same annamaya and pranamaya as yours is? Is my spiritual self different and contaminated? 

Sankara found himself dumbfounded and stuck speechless. It dawned on him all of a sudden that his own advaitic teaching had a different dimension. How could he have been so ignorant and blind not to have perceived the sameness everywhere? The poet in him then composed a sloka with this profound meaning of oneness. Now the tale is not merely instructive and illustrative of the universality of the all pervading spirit but it also goes a long way to prove the uniqueness of the saint. It was indeed his humility that made him realize blatant truth hidden from his own eyes thus far. The Chandala was perhaps sent there or it was lord Siva himself, come to open his inward eye. The adavitin realized his avidya or ignorance within a split second. And that is spiritual revelation. Avidya is not absolute ignorance as we would perhaps understand it, but on the other hand it is not knowing the full implications of knowledge, a knowledge that transforms and remakes, a knowledge that leads itself on to wisdom. How far from this is our modern day politician who whisks past us in the crowded streets of the present. We are all Chandalas, perhaps. Well any way it is good to be the Chandala who is potential eye opener for some Sankara rather than being a fully ignorant political leader!

As Tiruvalluvar says: all beings are born alike; their actions make them different.

From the Notebooks of a Bird Watcher

Even in a bustling city like Chennai one can come across small pockets of greenery. Among the less noted ones is the Madras Christian College Campus in East Tambaram. I recall with a tremendous sense of nostalgia the days and nights I used to wander along the many footpaths that criss-cross this amazing piece of green land in the late seventies and early eighties. I am also now amazed at the amount of bird and insect life I have recorded in the small pocket diaries I used to carry during those days. I have among my old papers a short write-up – among the many such–of those days that I presented as a record of natural history activities at one of our monthly get-togethers in Trivandrum.  We had a small group of enthusiastic naturalists and amateur birdwatchers and our society was registered as the Kerala Natural History Society, presided over by none other than the pioneer of bird study in our part of the world—Prof K.K. Neelakantan (@ Induchoodan). Among the many field activities of our society was this monthly meeting at every last Saturdays of each month when we shared notes and reports. As a youngster I used to look forward eagerly to these evenings. I have now before me one of my early papers where in I had waxed eloquent about the Madras Christain College Campus. These days when we celebrate Wild Life Week and World Bird Watch Day, it is in the scheme of things that we also cast a backward glance at our past.

This beautiful campus situated about 15 kilometers south ofMadrasis an interesting place for the bird watcher.   Indeed he can spend days on end wandering through the many forest footpaths or tracks that run through the 300 acre scrub and thorny jungle.  Continuous with the Vandalur reserve forest, this wonderful piece of wilderness was once mostly undisturbed except for occasional clearings for the college buildings, hostels, playground etc. In fact it is in and around the clearings that the amateur bird watcher spots his heart’s desire.

Large flocks of white browed Bulbul (Pycnonotus luteolus) occur near the footpaths or among adjacent bushes searching for food, frequently bursting forth into loud rattling calls. The Indian Robin (Saxicoloides fulicata) with its conspicuous wing-patch and rusty red under-tail coverts frequents the fringe of the jungle and open grassy patches. It is a more quiet bird. By far the most widely distributed and fairly commonly seen bird of the campus is the Indian Spotted Dove.  Apart from these the more vociferous and vocal birds of the early dawns and late evenings are the Ioras, the Coppersmith Barbets, the Red Vented and Red Whiskered Bulbuls, and the White headed Babblers.

Hoopoe and the Black Drongos are found around the tennis courts and the cricket grounds. I have come across many a cup-shaped nest on a forking branch often about 20 feet off the ground, with the Drongo parent bird sitting on its eggs, tail hanging limply over the edge!

I did frequently meet with the shy and silent Green Billed Malkoha (Rhopodytes viridirostris) in the thick scrub bordering the cricket grounds.  It was seldom seen in the open, always skulking in the bushes, much a Crow Pheasant, but never once descending to the ground. One hot summer midday, seeing a long, graduated, white tail disappearing into a bush, I moved closer quietly to investigate.  And the bird froze. The heavy bright and green bill and the sky blue eye patch confirmed its identity. The bird is really good and adept at disappearing rapidly through the bushes.

Another bird of the thorny bush was the Common Hawk Cuckoo (Cuculus varius). One day hearing its loud screams rising in crescendo I hastened to the spot.  The bird the size of a pigeon, but more slender and with broadly barred tail was perching on an exposed branch.  Its cry rose: brainfever…brainfever…brainfever….Suddenly on catching sight of me the scream stopped halfway. The bird watched me for some time and then with heavy wing beats flew off in to the next bush.

The pied crested Cuckoo (Clamator jacobinus) is a local migrant in these parts.  I usually met with this beautiful black and white bird that haunted the open thorny patch on the western edge of the campus.  It is not normally a shy bird and is really quite a handsome sight with its black crest.  I have often listened to its metallic call peepipiu…ringing across the fields. Once or twice I have recorded the Grey Patridge and Blackbreasted Rain Quail.

Further west in the campus there was a great Baya Colony on palm trees. This was a centre of great activity.  The entire palm was covered with quaint hanging nests—a remarkable sign of instinct and craftsmanship. Unfortunately I was never able to record a whole day’s activity under the bustling colony. However I could observe some interesting factors in their community life. I remember having collected a number of half completed and discarded nests. In those days I did not understand the significance of these thrown away nests.  Much later I came to understand how the males first began the nest-building activity; when it was half completed the female would join him and together they would complete it. However, if by any chance there were no female takers the male abandoned the half done nest and moves on to the next.

There are no records of the Common or Jungle Crows or the otherwise ubiquitous Small Green Barbet anywhere in my notes of those days. They are conspicuous by their absence. Perhaps that would go a long way to establish the pristine quality of the campus of those day—with little debris or garbage!  Among the other birds I have recorded are the following–

Small Minivet

Pariah kite

Blackwinged kite

Koel

Magpie robin

Golden backed woodpecker

Tailor bird

Rose ringed parakeet

Wren warbler

Black headed Oriole

Shikra hawk

Brahminy or Black headed myna

I have recorded that on 14^th June 1979 early dawn while I was just entering the campus from its eastern gate I heard a harsh croak of a Night Heron to my right.  The bird was apparently sitting on a low branch of a thorny tree spreading over the path from the left and disturbed by my sudden appearance had taken off to my right where there was a big patch of thick undergrowth and thorn. (Much later when I published my first volume of poetry I titled it Night Heron) Cautious, watching my steps, I tried to follow the bird, but then found it wasn’t necessary.  Even from where I stood I could spy the swaying tops of the trees that were virtually covered with roosting birds.  There were Pond Herons (Ardeola grayii) Little Egrets(Egretta garzetta) Night Herons(Nycticorax nycticorax) and to my pleasant surprise the Indian Reef Herons(Egretta gularis).  I cannot find any records of having sighted any Bitterns among them.  However I recall that the entire place was reeking of the heavy stench from their smelly white droppings!

On the 29^th of June 79 evening at around6 pm I saw a large flock of Night Herons flying over Tambaram in the direction of Chengalpet lake.  So it appeared that as the diurnal birds like the Pond herons and egrets return by evening to roost the Night Herons take off from their roosting place inside the campus, and they settle down for their rest only during the day.

These notes bespeak of those wonderful days of bird-watching I did in what appeared to be an unending campus of delight for me then. Even in the midst of a fast developing city and an equally fast depleting wilderness one could find solace at the thought of such small green pockets. They survive as memory. But just imagine the plight of its feathered denizens.  Perhaps they are forced to seek out other dwellings or quietly succumb to the pressures of urbanization and perish. When we celebrate these wildlife weeks and bird-watch days it is time for us to remember what we did, have done, and are doing. As the Upanishad says: krato smara, krtam smara—remember what has been done.  And finally perhaps, what we can do is to take measures to protect and preserve what we are left with— and to give it a personal responsibility let’s call it my beloved wilderness!   

smurali1234@yahoo.com

The Finer Art of Taste

A couple of years ago my daughter brought a little kitten home.  It had such beautiful eyes and a furry tail with soft brown down, she decided to call her Cleopatra.  And Cleo– for short—fitted the description quite well with her regal up-bearing and disdain for what cats normally do for a living—hunting.  She seldom stirred outdoors and stayed indoors expecting us to feed her all the time.  However, on rare occasions when she did indulge in the chase she made it a point to drag whatever writhing thing she brought in on to her favorite carpet in our drawing room floor very much to the chagrin of all of us.  Cleo perhaps felt that this was the safest place on earth to relish her repast, and also she must have felt she was sharing her spoils with her family!

Like Cleo most of us often tend to have a special place, even a specific posture, or seat or where we ensconce ourselves to dig into our own delicacies.  We relish food all the more when we are at peace and in our familiar or preferred surroundings. Food and the way we consume it is certainly a matter of taste, something that depends a great deal on upbringing, social background, class, race, customs and manners of the times we are in.

The oft-cited truism that what one eats becomes one’s demeanor does really hold some truth in it.  The choice of food and the practices of making/cooking, and eating/ relishing it differs considerably from people to people and from person to person. And when people migrate, or are exposed to different cultural influences, most often their food habits are usually the last ones to change. Language, clothing, and ways of thinking even would change but not so easily their habits of food.

In south India for instance there are innumerable practices of cooking, serving, eating and tasting.  Of course for the most a great deal depends on whether you are a vegetarian or an omnivore.  And another depends for the most on your social standing and exposure. Alas! One could never cherish or relish what one could dream or desire!

For the most, a majority of people (who of course, could afford to obtain food) eat with their fingers. A certain large percentage cherishes their culinary delights served and dished out in spoons and ladles and with the help of forks and knives.  Much before the advent of European colonial cultures we south Indians were wont to rely on our own fingers for eating. And of course, for the gourmet there is nothing like one’s own dear hands for savouring food!  After all, there is the matter of individual taste! Even the posture of eating has changed over the years.  When we were little kids I recall I used to enjoy sitting cross legged on the floor with the plantain leaf spread before me while they served the delicacies from left to right following a specific order beginning with a sweet and rounding it off with another in the end.  Those were good old days, and now with the advent of bad new days we are wont to sit on comfortable chairs at the dining table in the dining room. The very idea of the dining table and chair has certainly changed and transformed the manner and mode of eating.

From the south Indian combo of Idly, Vadai, Sambhar and coconut Chutney, to the North Indian Roti and Sabji , the red-rice-meals of the far south to the white and/or basmati of the Indian peninsula,  the variety of foods and food habits are so dramatically different in the Indian subcontinent. Perhaps what our ubiquitous globalising economy has achieved for us is to make all varieties available to and within reach of almost everyone. Apart from our own daily meal wherever we are, we tend to look upon all other food varieties as delicacies and of a much dearer taste. Whatever other harms globalization has brought in, this aspect of bringing variety of taste into the lives of all and sundry apparently is certainly a good thing.  While on the one hand multinational companies like McDonald-s and Kentucky Fried Chicken–s thrive in ushering in homogeneity of taste, the roving tongue of the gourmet reaches for the overseas taste and varieties made available through the interchange of economies.

Eating is not merely an act in pursuit of survival but a great art indeed. When people eat one can certainly discern in them their character, culture, class, upbringing, and their family backgrounds. Some people can approach a delicate Masala Dosa like a warlord and tear it into ungainly bits and pieces so that the onlooker might not feel like eating anything for some days after that or even bring out! Still others can make the heady repast of smoked bacon and steak rounded off with a dash of a marmalade toast look so appealing that it could make mouths water!  The children’s writer, Enid Blyton, in her adventure stories takes so much pleasure in describing the taste and smells of food charming and most endearing to her readers. Even Tolstoy and Dostoevsky would like to describe the meals of their characters quite sumptuously.  Yet other instances are writers like Somerset Maugham ,H E Bates, Raja Rao and R.K. Narayan. The Indian writer in Malayalam O.V.Vijayan who has authored such magical-realistic works as The Saga of Khasak and other immortal works of fiction, towards the end of his life created a work of different sensibility like the Dharmapuranam, wherein he specifically resorted to the use of epithets of defecation and urination alongside the finer tastes of eating and relishing. The intention of course was to shock the readers from their complacent non-committed political positions.  However, the legacy of the culinary and the gourmet’s aesthetic are so wide and large indeed and spreads across cultures and continents.

Food easily becomes a habit with most people that they tend to uphold the maxim of eat to live as something sacred and inviolable. However, there is so much to the finer art of taste than what meets the eye at the outset. In relishing good food, the eye, the ear, the nose, the tongue and even the soul come into participation. Try eating food with your eyes closed and you will find out the difference yourself.  Similar is the case with the sense of smell.  Small wonder that food appears tasteless to one who suffers from a bad cold.

In the aesthetic canon of Classical Indian art discourses among the sixty four arts equal importance is set apart for the finer art of taste in terms of cookery. However it is not merely in making delicacies but also in partaking of these in the right manner does the culinary delight lie. A good cook is also a gourmet.

For the most the Northern part of India is a wheat growing belt while the South produces lot of rice—this accounts for the staple food habits of the people as well.  South Indians use a lot of rice in their cooking while the north Indians resort to wheat and maize. This does not necessarily mean that people of the north do not relish Idlis and Dosas nor that the south Indians do not dote on Pooris, Chappathis and Paranthas. In most households people eat three meals a day. Lunch is the heaviest usually. And the south Indian rice repast is a whole meal and an art in itself in its highest form.

Kerala Brahmins are especially well-known for their gourmet tastes and there are innumerable tales revolving round the feudal Brahmin often depicted with his large pot-belly—a creature of caricature no doubt! Nevertheless the Kerala Brahmin is also credited with a highly evolved sense of taste in almost all the finer arts mentioned. There is this repartee of a Namboothiri who was specially tested by a certain King: he had been treated to a large and sumptuous meal upon completion of which he remarked blissfully that he was so full that he could eat no more! The clever King then slyly informed him that there was a special course of Palada Pradaman (a sweet rice pudding) to follow. The Nambothiri in his characteristic sparkle of wit informed the king that when the bedecked elephant arrives the crowd for all its mass makes way for it somehow!

The Chinese are said to have an equally highly evolved sense of taste. Much before Europe’s geographical explorations began, the Chinese had sailed the vast oceans and landed in all the continents. The southwest coast of Kerala likewise had had contact with the Chinese from a long time ago. Among the innumerable tales of travelers from overseas there is this one about a Chinese traveler who was shipwrecked near the south west coast and he sought asylum in a poor villager’s home. The Malayalee couple although extremely poor took good care of the man who happened to be a trader, and upon getting well, while he bade adieu to them he asked whether he could leave behind some of the big jars that he had brought his wares in (which were washed ashore along with the wreck) and which he could collect later when he could sail back in a new ship eventually. He explained that the sealed jars contained pickled tender-mangoes. The couple agreed and the Chinese sailor was on his way. After many days when they were in dire straits and couldn’t find anything to eat, the man of the house thinking that he could help themselves to a few bits of pickled mangoes from the Chinese pot opened one and thrust his hand in. Very much to his surprise what he drew out was not mangoes but gold coins!  The pot held gold coins! He made use of a few coins and tided over their difficult times. Eventually their house prospered and they became quite well off. It was years later that the Chinese came back to retrieve his pots.  The man of the house returned all the pots and told the whole story of how he helped himself to a few coins from one of the pots. He also added that he had replaced what he had taken. The Chinese traveler was quite taken aback by the honesty of the people of the household and as a token of his gratitude he gifted some of the pots to them and was on his way soon. The honest man’s house prospered and became quite well-off.  Many years afterwards when they had finished all the gold coins they used the Chinese pots for pickling tender mangoes.  The taste of these mangoes has gone down into Kerala’s legends and history.  Even to this day people talk of the heavenly taste of the tender mangoes pickled in the Kodan Bharani of Pandan Parambu! (One of the Chinese pots had a twisted mouth and hence came to be known as Kodan (Crooked) Bharani)

There are a million tales of this kind regarding the finer art of taste. Over the centuries this art too has evolved with the human beings and their history.

Let me conclude with another relating to the same series of the Chinese pots. A certain king overheard one Brahmin talking to another while partaking of the feast given to them that the meal would have tasted far better had there been a tiny morsel of tender mango pickle from the famed Kodan Bharani of Pandan Paramabu!   The King sent his courtiers forth to search for the legendary mango pickles far and wide.  Eventually they traced the Chinese pots and fetched the tender mangoes which were served alongside the other stuff at the feast the next year.  The king was a casual observer this year too and then the very same Brahman exclaimed: Wow! Now the feast is complete! We have here the legendary tender mangoes too! The king was very pleased and rewarded the Brahmin suitably for his rich taste buds that could detect such finer tastes.

If beauty is in the eyes of the beholder then taste is in the tongue of the relisher. In our blind process of ultra-fast  development and globalization where in we hasten to eat like the American in the fast-food style joints of MacDonalds and Kentucky Fried Chickens, what we are tragically laying aside are our unique taste buds which could distinguish fine and finer tastes. In a globalised village of the future technology there could be but one master taste which everyone would have to relish. Where is fled the glory and the taste of yore!

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Marthanda Varma, King of Travancore (1706 – 1758)

Exactly 270 years ago on a bright August morning the great armies of Raja Marthanada Varma of Travancore marched against the Dutch forces of Van Imholf. (the Dutch governor of that time) And here is what we read in our popular history books:

A battalion of Dutch army sent from Ceylon (the present Sri Lanka) landed at Kulatchal beach and started looting houses and markets; they even attacked a small contingent of the stationed army belonging to Marthandavarma. The initial successes of the Dutch instigated them to raid the land ranging from Kulatchal to Kottar, and eventually attack Thiruvananthapuram. Ramayyan Dalava was  Marthandavarma’s commander-in-chief of the army and  this large army under the brave Dalava’s leadership marched against the forces of the Dutch. The war began on the morning of August 10 at Kulatchal. Ramayyan’s cavalry broke into the formidable infantry of the Dutch and scattered them like dead leaves. The Dutch army fled in tatters.

When one browses through the traditional books of history there are bound to be many a hero who had led his armies into famed battles and won many a war. Kings and emperors of the western world are lauded with majesty and heroism after each war, each annexation, each conquest!  The common reader of East-Asian origin on account of the innumerable conquests and traumas that this part of the world had to undergo is made to look up to the west for such popular hero heroines. Nevertheless there are countless heroes and heroines, Rajas and Maharajas, who had broken through the dark shrouds of history and found their dear places in the hearts and minds of many an Indian. Actually the list of such heroes is not too long! Maharaja Marthanda Varma was one such. Perhaps only a few genuinely interested souls who had had the occasion to go through the annals of South Indian history or even specially Travancore history would know much about the heroic deeds of this King from a tiny state in the far south of India. In his case legend, myth, fiction and history blend in so well that it becomes quite needless even to set out to separate them. He is a compound hero: at once legendary and historical.

Marthanda Varma

When the Dutch governer Van Imholf threatened him stating that he would rake Travancore down to the dust, Marthanda Varma replied boldly that in the event of such a step being taken by the Dutch he would raise a huge navy with the help of the fisher-folk and attack Europe with full force! What a bold statement that has gone down into history!

Peninsular India had for long suffered imperial depredations and assaults from a whole host of people from beyond the seas. Persians, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Dutch, Portuguese, Spanish, Danish, French and the British had all tried on their own and also in various combinations! The Chinese and Arab traders had touched on these shores years ago in the guise of travelers and traders. The trade winds had brought in many a foreigner to these shores. But Indians especially the people of the south had always greeted foreigners graciously; nevertheless those imperial forces that swept through from the seas and mountains had to face active resistance from the Indians. The Dutch were vanquished at the great Battle of Colatchal. And Marthanda Varma had upheld the valour and gallantry of the Travancorians. He was also politically wise enough to sign a treaty with the powerful  English East India Company in 1723.  Little wonder that historians consider him as a shrewd tactician and a brilliant general: so very much like Napolean, if not a little more!

On assuming the throne in 1729, assisted by his able minister Ramayyan Dalawa, Marthanda Varma raised a well-trained army from the local people of Venad. He started on his campaign of expansion and started conquering the neighboring kingdoms. Many of these were allies of the Dutch East India Company and they declared war on his kingdom. His thirty odd years of rule were turbulent times indeed!

Marthanda Varma was born in 1706, as the son of the Junior Rani of Attingal (the queens of Travancore were titled the Ranis of Attingal) whose entire family, including herself, a sister who died, and two brothers had been adopted by Umayamma Rani of Venad on the failure of heirs in the Venad Royal house from Kolathunaad or Ezhimala Hill kingdom of North Kerala.

Kolathiri had founded the Matriarchal dynasty of Attingal in 1314 replacing the southern Nair dynasty after the reign of Udayamarthandavarma, king of Venad. Travancore at this time was known as Venad and was a very small principality extending from Attingal to the north down to Kanyakumariin the southern-most tip of the Indian sub continent. Within this small kingdom the power of the king was only nominal due to the power of the nobles known as Madambis, chief among them being the Ettuveetil Pillais or the Lords of the Eight Houses. The powers of the ruler were also to a great extent curbed by the power of the Ettara Yogam, the Managing committee of the famed temple of Sree Padmanabha in the present city of Trivandrum. The Ettuveetil Pillamar and Ettara Yogam had played a significant role in the history of Travancore and were responsible, as per legend, for the murder of Raja Aditya Varma in the previous century, the murder of five sons of Rani Umayamma and other similar crimes, all committed in a bid to extirpate the Travancore Royal House. It was into these conditions, where the sovereign was powerless under the headstrong nobles of the state that Marthanda Varma was born in 1706.

Marthanda Varma, from his formative years was an intelligent prince and it was on his advice in 1726 that Raja Rama Varma signed a treaty with the Madurai Nayaks and secured a foreign force in the country to check the activities of the Ettuveetil Pillamar and other rebellious chieftains. Previously he had also signed a treaty with the English, styling himself as the “Prince of Neyatinkara” in 1723. This incurred the wrath of the Eight Lords and thus they were bent upon murdering the prince. The result was that Marthanda Varma had to flee the capital to the safety of the northern states such as Kottarakara, Kayamkulam etc. where he lived in difficulty for many years, travelling from one place to another to escape his enemies under various disguises.

Marthanda Varma was not only a politically shrewd tactician and a ruler with a vision but an able general in battle-field as well. He led his armies from the forefront and thus instilled in them courage and valour.  In his military conquests he was ably assisted by Ramayyan Dalawa, who was later to become his Prime Minister. In 1731 Quilon or  Kollam, which was ruled by a branch of the Venad family was defeated and the last King was made to sign a document allowing the annexation of his kingdom by Marthanda Varma after his death. Marthanda Varma then turned his eyes toward Kayamkulam, another branch of the family, which allying itself with the Quilon family tried to prevent the growth of Venad. In 1734, several battles were fought against Kayamkulam and Quilon without any decisive effect. In the final battle of that year the Raja of Kayamkulam was killed and succeeded by his brother who soon appealed for peace and hostilities were ended for the moment. Marthanda Varma then, in 1734, annexed the Elayadath Swaroopam or the Kottarakara kingdom, ruled by another related Queen who was then duly pensioned off. In the same year, the Raja of Quilon died and Kayamkulam acquired the possessions of that king against the wishes of Marthanda Varma. The Raja of Cochin and Dutch, a very important foreign power by then, supported the act. The Dutch Governor of Ceylon, van Imhoff, asked the King to stop hostilities against Kayamkulam, to which Marthanda Varma replied that the Governor need not interfere in internal affairs that were no concern of his. In 1739 Van Imhoff arrived in Cochin and in 1740 espoused the cause of the Rani of Kottarakara and protested against the annexation of that kingdom by Marthanda Varma. On a subsequent interview with the Maharajah Marthanda Varma, the relations between the Dutch and Travancore became further strained. As mentioned earlier, it has been recorded that when the Dutch Governor threatened to invade the territories of Travancore the Maharaja gave a brave reply that he would invade Holland and the rest of Europe in case the Dutch misbehaved in Malabar! In 1741 the Dutch reinstated the Queen of Elayadath Swaroopam at Kottarakara against the wishes of Marthanda Varma who attacked the kingdom and completely routed the Dutch army and finally fully annexed Kottarakara to Travancore while the Queen fled to Cochin and continued to receive a pension from the Dutch.

Following the famed battle of Colachal, more than twenty Dutch men were taken prisoners. The prisoners were treated with kindness, so they were glad to serve under the Maharaja. Among them were Eustachius De Lannoy and Donadi, who attracted the maharaja’s special notice. Soon, De Lannoy, commonly known in Travancore as the ‘Valiya Kapithan’ (Great Captain) was entrusted with the organization and drilling of a special Regiment, which he did to the entire satisfaction of the Maharaja. De Lannoy was raised to the rank of General and proved of considerable service to the Maharaja in the subsequent wars. Following the expulsion of the Dutch, the Maharajah now turned his attention once again towards Kayamkulam which continued seeking help from the Dutch. In 1742, the Travancore forces attacked Quilon and fought the Kayamkulam army led by its commander Achuta Warrier stationed there. However, in this battle Travancore was defeated. But eventually reinforced with cavalry brought in from Tirunelveli, Marthanda Varma mounted a successful attack on Kayamkulam.

A treaty known as the Treaty of Mannar was signed, through which Kayamkulam became a subordinate territory.  However by 1746, the Kayamkulam Raja once again started showing signs of rebellion and when his conspiracy with the kingdoms further north (such as Kottayam, Changanassery, Cochin and Ambalapuzha) came to the attention of Marthanda Varma, Kayamkulam was annexed by a final war in which the Raja fled to the Kingdom of Cochin. By now Travancore extended from Cape Comorin to Kayamkulam in the north. In due course, Ambalapuzha, Kottayam and Changanassery were also annexed to Travancore. The principality of Meenachil was also annexed. In 1753 the tributary states of Cochin collectively known as Karappuram and Alangad were ceded to Travancore. In 1755, the Zamorin of Calicut, the most powerful king in Northern Kerala then was also defeated at a battle in Purakkad. He was supported by the armies of some other local kings also. This made almost all the Kings of Kerala succumb to the power of Marthanda Varma.

Once peace had been established in the country the King could turn his attention to other matters. The renovation of Sri Padmanabha temple, the centre of his kingdom, was begun during this time in 1731, and new state ceremonies such Murajapam, Bhadra Deepam etc. were introduced by Marthanda Varma.  The King also instituted a new knighthood for his loyal Nair officers known as Chempakaraman Pillai. The Kingdom of Travancore was formally dedicated to the Lord Sri Padmanabhaswamy on the 3^rd January 1750 and after that the King came to be called Sripadmanabha Vanchipala Marthandavarma Kulasekaraperumal and the Maharajah, taking the title of Padmanabha Dasa ruled the kingdom as the devout servant of that deity. Travancore as a whole thus became the property of Lord Sri Padmanabha, which is “God’s Own Country”.

Marthanda Varma paid special attention to improving agriculture in the Kingdom. The southern district of present day Tamil Nadu, Kanyakumari, was the southern-most part of Travancore too. The famed fertility Nanji Nadu, or the land east of Nagercoil which was considered the granary of Kerala on account of the extensive cultivation of rice paddy there, was primarily due to the irrigation facilities introduced by Marthanda Varma. His Edicts on the subject of irrigation issued between 1729 and 1758 A.D fill several pages in the Travancore Land Revenue Manual recorded by R. Mahadeva Iyer. It is recorded that the single harvest paddy fields of that area became double-harvest fields during his reign. Pallikondan Dam, Sabari Dam, and Chozhanthitta Dam, all on the River Pazhayaru in the vicinity of Nagercoil, were constructed by Marthanda Varma under his direct supervision and they continue to be still operational. Near Bhoothappandy a dam was constructed and a new channel named Puthanaaru was dug from it to irrigate the land near Thovalai.  Puthan Dam built by him near Padmanabhapuram brought in drinking water to that area. Many a historian has been fond of mentioning that the Maharaja himself came to supervise work in the fields and sometimes even participated in the labour!

Legends and tales have come to be built around the turbulent life of this brave Maharaja and there are many things and places associated with his fascinating adventures. The grand old Jackfruit tree near Neyyantinkara is one such. When once Marthanda Varma had to flee from his conspirators it is said that he ran and hid himself inside the huge pothole of this giant tree. This tree known till today as Ammachi plavu can be seen in the sacred compound of the Sri Krishna temple at Neyyattinkara. It has been recorded that it was Lord Krishna himself in the guise of a little herd-boy who took the king into the folds of the giant tree and helped him hide from his enemies. The sword of Marthanada Varma is still preserved in the museum at the Padmanbhapuram palce.

It is said that the death of Ramayyan Dalawa in 1756 caused great pain to Marthanda Varma as the former was not only his minister but also his trusted friend. The King’s health started deteriorating since then and he passed away two years later in 1758. He was succeeded by his nephew Maharajah Karthika Thirunal Rama Varma Dharma Raja in 1758 who consolidated the kingdom further. Just before his death, Marthanda Varma summoned his nephew and successor and gave him some advice. His main concern was that the rituals and ceremonies in the Sri Padmanabhaswamy Temple were to be continued and carried forward at all costs. Never was the Kingdom to pass from the dominance of the deity. Whatever land and people were annexed by his descendents later were also to be retained likewise under the sole dominance of Sree Padmanabha. Another major instruction was that the State should always maintain its expenses to the tune of its revenue, never over-spending. Further, no infighting in the royal family was to be ever allowed. Perhaps, as a better ally, the British East India Company were to be trusted rather than the Dutch or the French.

After these words of advice the King passed away in peace.

These days the erstwhile kingdom of Travancore has come to be front-page news item in many a national newspaper. The famed wealth accidentally discovered in the Sree Padmanabha Temple has instigated curiosity and inquisitiveness all over the world and the media has taken full advantage of this situation to draw the light of the world’s attention to this tiny erstwhile princely state. Travancore was definitely the creation of Marthanda Varma. He retained the political power and provided stability and collective direction to the emerging state. Of course, throughout the three decades of his rule he was engaged in warfare for either retaining the power over his kingdom or for expanding its contours, but despite these troublesome war-ridden times Marthanada Varma kept his own people happy and contented, and attended to matters of state with utmost seriousness. This he did on account of his own personal benevolence and munificence. The spiritual presence and continued support of Lord Padmanabha was assured by situating the temple right in the heart of his country. The pious and the devout flocked from far and wide to this august presence of the supreme Lord, and so did artists and poets, writers and thinkers. However, the real flowering in terms of culture art and music in Travancore had to wait for a couple of generations more—until the golden period of his successor Swati Tirunal. The entire Kingdom of Travancore or Thiruvithamcore was surrendered to the Lord and the Kings described themselves merely as His representatives ruling on His behalf! So was it written and so it came to be! Marthanda Varma passed into history as one who consolidated the political power of the southern empire and sanctified it through his august governance.

In one of the moving passages in CV Raman Pillai’s great novel of this name that pioneered history fiction In Indian languages, he describes a scene where the young king is a captive at the hands of his enemies and is about to be executed. One of the soldiers demonstrates with his drawn sword to the awe-inspired crowds that had gathered round this spectacle: Is there anyone, he screams at the top of his voice, is there anyone among you who wants to rescue this king? For a long minute there is complete silence and then from among those assembled a man of lower caste springs forth shouting: I’ll do it. In the ensuing grand fight the king is freed and he escapes. There are many such escapades of this legendary king that make this fictionalized narrative heroic and exciting. CV Raman Pillai has made the King of Travancore come alive so very much in the lines of his own role model—Sir Walter Scott, who had sowed the seeds of romance and chivalry in the British minds. Now, Marthanada Varma, likewise will remain forever a great Heroic King of the south, a lonesome figure, tall and majestic, feared by his enemies, loved and cherished by his own countrymen.

REFERENCES

Nagam Aiya, V. Travancore State Manual

Pillai, C. V. Raman. Marthandavarma,

Menon, P Shungunny. The History of Travancore

Menon, A. Sreedhara, A survey of Kerala History

Pillai, T.K.Velu. Travancore State Manual .Revised Edition

New Book (Edited) Under the Greenwood Tree: Reading for Pleasure and Comprehension

Under the Greenwood Tree

Days and Nights (Hirakud, Sambalpur Feb 2009)

1

There is a line of light that traverses the hill

And bisects the valley below.  All day

The sun looks down at this amazing sight

Where hill meets valley and breaks

The fall of light and shade.

Purple, grey, brown,

And blue the hill radiates the ray’s fall.

Until night wipes out the light and blossoms

With the nightjar’s quivering wing.

Many flowers bloom and fall, many-petalled

And bright and dull.

In the valley some are heaped

And piled on the breeze’s reckless swing

Some lie awake all day all night

For the rain-priest’s ritual shower

And an unknown traveler’s dusty tread.

Water, huge and wide on this one and only shore

Lies open-eyed under a vacant sky.

A large bird floats silently by

Slowly drawn into the slanting line of sight.

2

All hills are the same. All valleys too.

A boy once eager to learn and know fled home

And the oft-trodden pathway of his fathers

Enchanted by the design that drew him close

To a huge hill’s heart, listening, shivering

Figuring a new will and being from the stony self

He heard the huge heart, felt the rhythm

And seeped into its very being.

A god’s large self.

3

This large water can hide nothing

It always reflects itself in the sky

Sometimes not knowing

Where it ends and sky begins

Or where they both end.

4

Daylight breaks shivering

Over the crude shoulders

Of the cold hill.

Night is like a towel

Thrown over the flames of the sun.

What is there to choose between?