Patriotism at Mylara Krupa

Every Independence or Republic Day celebration brings back patriotic memories – of a personal kind.

The premises where we were brought up (I use the past tense as I now live in Bangalore – although my mother continues to live there) in the spacious place is named “Mylara Krupa” on Devaparthiva Road. In my previous post on my school days in CFTRI I had mentioned about the sense of patriotism I had been exposed to by the spontaneous display by our principal Mrs. Caroline Parpia on Martyr’s Day. This probably played an important part in my life.

As I grew up, I remember that I have not missed any of either the Independence Day or Republic Day functions. And I was exposed to quite a few of them! Our Schools and Colleges, my father’s work place – CFTRI, my grand-father’s work place – The City Law Courts, my father’s and grand-father’s recreation club – Cosmopolitan Club. I had plenty of support from my elders. So, probably the patriotism rubbed in.

As early as in the early 70’s I started celebrating the Independence Day and the Republic Day in OUR HOUSE. I would ask my “Taata” Shri. Subba Rao to hoist the National Flag, before he left for the other flag hoisting ceremonies.

The zeal to hoist the National Flag was such that I would go to any means to hoist a flag – even if it meant (as I realize now) violating the National Flag code (I may please be excused for that). Unfortunately, the zeal would start on the previous night with no time for major preparations. It would generally mean that my mother (who was adept at tailoring) would have to dig into the bundle of cut, semi-cut, uncut clothes and bring out pieces of clothes having any resemblance to the national tri-colour. My artistic elder brother would draw by hand the ‘chakra’. This was because my “taata” would not have time to organize of a proper flag.

The flag post would be the “madi-koolu” – the 8 foot length of cane used to spread the clothes used for religious purposes. The flag would be tied – yes, tied – not hoisted on top of this pole. Flower petals would be placed inside and the flag folded and now tied with a piece of rope. The pole would now be place in a hole dug in front of the “tulasi katte”. All the family members and some invited neighbours would stand around the Flag Pole. “Taata” would then untie (Unfurl?) the flag and we would all sing “Jana GaNa Mana”.

My “Ajji” used to support the event by cooking “kobri mithai” on most days else we would distribute “kallu sakkare” to the invities and family members before dispersing for the other events of the day.

As there would be cultural programmes at CFTRI, which I would attend without fail, the honour and responsibility of lowering the flag (complete with the flag pole) rested on my “ajji” – which she would unfailingly observe at 6.00 PM.

My “troublesome” enthusiasm went to such an extent that “taata” finally bought me a proper National Flag (2ft x 3 ft) which was used for 2-3 years. I then started insisting that we “hoist” the flag instead of tying it to the pole. My brother had to use his ingenuity to install a pulley using a wooden spool at the top of the pole and we would run a piece of cotton rope to formally “unfurl” the National Tri Colour.

With the sad demise of “taata” in 1976 the event unfortunately came to an end. The National Flag continues to be a priced possession carrying many fond and patriotic memories.

My “Independence Day”– or was it?

During my childhood days I was known for my ‘gluttonous’ hunger. I had a “stomach clock” – I mean body clock related to the stomach – that was very very accurate and would not tolerate any variation in feeding time.

My tolerance towards hunger was very low. The minute my mind decided I was hungry, I HAD to eat something. This mindset is probably the cause for what I am today – “roly – poly” during childhood and overweight now (although, I prefer to stress that is by only 10-12 Kgs). It could be any thing solid – liquid food would not do. Raagi – hurittu (popped – ragi flour mixed with sugar, milk, ghee), meNasinapudi anna (cooked rice mixed with chilli powder and oil), avalakki mosaru (puffed rice with curds), avalakki kaai bella (puffed rice with coconut gratings and jaggery), etc. Even the required quantity was not too much. But I had to EAT.

Not eating when I was hungry would send hunger pangs like I had not eaten for days. I would sweat. I would get nausea. My hands would tremble. I would feel like I would almost collapse. Such was my intolerance towards an empty stomach.

Coming home from school one evening, I was at my ravenous best. Throwing aside my school bag, I had a quick wash (if it were not for the rule that “NO ENTRY TO DINING AREA WITHOUT WASH” I probably would have avoided it) and rushed to the kitchen with my “HOTTE HASHIVU” (translated to “I am Hungry”) shout. I was not greeted with any eatable but with the advice to wait for 5 minutes. Obviously my mother was busy pounding something (No mixies/grinders in those days). I was not in the mood for any excuses that day. I “demanded” that I be attended to immediately. But who heard the demands of a 9 year old.

I, then made my declaration of “Independence”. I threatned to “run” (“walk” would have been a more appropriate word for it) away from home. I got a cool “let me see you do it” reply from my mother from whom I least expected it. I had thought that that threat would get me something to eat. But now my reputation was at stake. Do I keep my threat or do I meekly surrender to the situation and wait those few minutes?? In the heat of the moment, I decided to make my threat come true. Banging the front door, off I went onto the streets. I had “run” away from home.

I was then about 9 years of age. My knowledge about Mysore and its localities was restricted to what I had traveled with the elders. I had never gone out alone further than Devaparthiva Road and Gita Road (See my other post “Walk the Walk – With an Elephant”).

I reached the end of Devaparthiva Road near the Aralikatte (Banayan Tree) at the north end took the familiar right turn towards Ramaswamy Circle. As I approached the junction of Gita Road, hard reality struck. I was not confidant of going any further – I was not aware of any other roads!!! With no other way out I went along Gita Road, rounded back towards Devaparthiva Road, back in front of our house (to see if anyone was searching for me) and along the same route once again. I had nowhere else to go – I was not confidant of going anywhere else!

I meekly walked back into the house. I was greeted with the “Yaake, yelligu hogalillava?” (didn’t you go anywhere”). It was a great eye opener. I realized that I had not grown up to the extent of “running” away from home. I also realized that if I had waited in the house for those 5 minutes, I would have got my food. If only I had the patience, I would have saved the the extra effort of walking for 20 minutes on an already empty stomach.

I have since gained control of my hunger pangs – although the same cannot be said about my overall weight.

Every time I am hungry and feel like demanding food, this incident acts as a great reminder to calm me down.

CFTRI SCHOOL

CFTRI School –Part (Building) #1

Year 1967 – Kindergarten - School term had already begun. I remember my mother taking me to school on the first day. The CFTRI School was running in the building beside the Director’s Quarters. There still is an open area between the two buildings that was being used as the Play ground.

The kindergarten class was in the right side shed behind the main building. Toys we had were drums, trumpet (one of my favourites), blocks, etc. There were a total of 34 others in the class. (Can you imagine it now – 35 is just half the class!). We used to get pasteurized milk (a luxury then for the general public), mango pulp bars, etc., from the pilot plant of CFTRI. We even used to get about 2 hours sleep in the afternoon.

The First Standard classes were in the left side shed. The desks were about 2 feet high and we had small wooden chairs. The uniform was a red and white checked shirt with olive green shorts/pinafore skirts, Mrs. Parpia (wife of the then Director of CFTRI, Dr. HAB Parpia) was the headmistress then. I remember an incident that indicates the kind of discipline and nationalism we were exposed to then.

January 30, 1969 it was. As is the norm, at the stroke of 11.00AM, we were all intimated that we would hear a siren when we were all required to stand up in silence for 2 minutes as a mark of respect for the Martyrs’ Day. At the stroke of 11 the siren sounded and we all stood up. It was then that I noticed ‘Aunty’ Parpia just coming round the corner of the main building and there she stood. She had frozen in the postion she was in – one step ahead of the other and head bowed. The importance and the value of that posture comes to my mind every time I have to stand in silence for paying respects to any departed soul.

We had the facility of the School Bus that would pick us up and drop us at our doorstep daily. I would be one of the last to be picked up and one of the last to be dropped off. The route that we took was covering almost the entire city of Mysore. Yadavagiri, Vontikoppal, Bannimantap, Tilak Nagar, Mandi Mohalla, Nazarbad, Ittigegud, Chamundipuram, Vidyaranyapuram, Chamarajapuram, Krishnamurthypuram, Jayanagar, Saraswatipuram – That was almost the entire city in those days (See Map).



The entire route could be covered in about 90 mins. Imagine that now! This facility was available until 1971. Then we had to travel by city bus. What fun we used to have in the school bus. But all that later.

Upakarma – The annual thread Ceremony.

With the approach of the full moon day in the month of Shraavana – the day when the male Yajurvedis change their sacred thread, brings back memories of the function that was being celebrated in our house.

The formal ceremony consists of a fire – ritual (Homa); puja of the rishis; tarpana (offering of water in a particular way) to the rishis and the change of the sacred thread – a sort of renewal of the pledge to undertake the path of Vedic Adhyayana (Vedic Learning). Uptill 1976, this ritual was being organized in our house. We would have about 20 – 30 people from our neighbourhood and some relatives too congregating for the ritual.

The purohit would come in at 5.30 in the morning and the rituals would go on till 8.00. So the preparations would have to be completed the previous night itself. This was an occasion which we looked out for. I had my initiation (Upanayana) in 1974. But right from the age of about 6 years I was involved in the ritual – as I was allowed to wear the “yagnopaveeta” (janivaara – holy thread) – albeit a “kaLLa janivaara (illegal janivara).

I would be woken up at 5.15 in the morning, made to complete the morning duties, wrapped with a silk “maguta”, smeared with “vibhuti” (the holy ash) and would take my reserved place beside our father and grandfather.

The wooden planks would be arranged inside the periphery of the hall accommodating about 18 persons. There was one aged person who used to attend but unable to squat on the ground. We used to give him a wooden chair and table to do the rituals and he would be seated on one of the adjoining rooms. Additional persons were accommodated in the verandah.

The “homa kunDa” and the platform for the “rishi pooja” would be in arranged the previous night itself. I was allowed to do the puja and most of the rituals except the “rishi tarpana” until 1974 – as I was still not initiated.

The first interesting part was when we were required to do the “yagnopaveeta daana” – giving a set of the sacred thread along with “dakshine” to elders and take their blessings before “yagnopaveeta dharaNa” – the process of putting on the sacred thread. Our grandfather would provide me with my own set of 10 sacred threads and coins for the process.

The second interesting part was when all the participants would circle around the “homa kunDa” and the “rishis” in “pradakshiNa”. As we walked around to the chanting of mantrams, the wooden planks would make a sound wheneven someone stepped on the edges and the plank would rise and fall. It was merriment for me as the planks would keep going “katak-katak” during the entire process of about 5 minutes by the time we completed three rounds.

The puja would end with the distribution of “prasadam” - “satvada hittu” – a combination of rice flour, til seeds, ghee and cut fruits (banana, guava, sweet lime, fresh grapes, etc.).

The guests would have breakfast of hot “tatte” idlis and chutney accompanied by hot coffee before leaving. Always coming back the next year.

This event, unfortunately, stopped on the demise of our grandfather in 1976 and our family purohit a few years later. The ususal guests started to go to temples for the ritual or like me, started changing the sacred thread in their house itself with a simple 5 minute process.

I was fortunate to attend a similar elaborate ritual when a neighbour of ours, Mr. Aralikatte Chandrashekar, took up the initiative and has started it in his house. The ritual came back to our house of one year – during which Mr. Chandrashekar’s mother had expired.

Every year during the Upakarma day, whether I am able to attend the elaborate ritual or not, the memories of the Upakarma in our house remains fresh.

Walk the "Walk" - With an Elephant

It was around 10.30 - 11.00 AM. The slow and rhythemic 'dong-dong' was music to the ears. It still is - although it is never heard of in Bangalore. It could mean only one thing. AN ELEPHANT WAS APPROACHING.

The children in the street all ran out to greet the elephant. It was in the northern half of Devaparthiva Road. Being too young - about 3 1/2 years? - I was naturally not allowed to cross the Vani Vilasa Road. I had to wait impatiently for the elephant to cross the road and come to our half. It ambled across and as was the routine in such situations, almost every house offered it some rice, jaggery, fruits(optional) and puja to the 'living form' of Lord Ganesha. Our turn too came. The rituals were conducted and off went the elephant to the next house. I naturally followed the elephant to the next house. As the elephant moved out of our street, everyone went back into their houses.

That was when our house went into pandemonium.

The rest of the story was conveyed to me at a later age.

I was "missing" from the house. I had not come back. Naturally my mother and grandmother thought that I might have gone to a neighbour's place to play. A search conducted at the usual house drew a blank. I was not in any of the houses. That was when the panic crept in. A rapid search and enquiry were equally unfruitful. Then someone thought of the idea that I may have followed the elephant. The elephant was now near the Eshwara Temple on Gita Road. Off ran my mother and my brother on his bicycle.

LO! there I was. Watching the elephant in awe. I had been located. Although the distance is not over 200 meters, it was the longest I had walked at that age - unaccompanied by any known people.

It is a walk to remember. This incident is still being remembered everytime an elephant approaches our house in Mysore.