Chevayoor - Part I

Discounting all the hostel rooms and extended hotel stints, I have had 11 temporary addresses so far. But in all the forms I have filled up offline and online, when I write in "Chevayoor 673017" against "Permanent address", there is a ring to it. [Try it, 6-7-3-0-1-7]

A resonance of home.

The boundaries of home expanded with time though. For a good part of primary school; the sun rose at Kumar Nagar colony and set at M R Uncle's house at the west end of my colony. There wasnt a need to be outside, till one day the school decided to take me to Cheveyoor Chandra Talkies to see Oppol - a melodramatic kerchief soaker - as Malayalam movies were at that time. As I walked, fingers on lips, in one straight line with may be forty other blue-and-white souls, Monish told me that we were approaching the real, the real Chevayur. We crossed school, another house that had swan statues in their front yard, Anil George's house, the post-office (I walked once with the postman while he was on duty on his entire route - that for later in this page), THE (THE) Chevayoor bus stop to reach an angaadi not as big as Thondayaad. "You go straight in that road and take a left, that is my house", Mohnish said. I dont remember the movie any significantly better than its being a brother-sister tale pictured in black and white.
Chevayoor expanded in my mind. My map of the world had stretched a kilometer more to the East.

Towards the west was Thondayad and town - westward was standard direction to buy everything and go everywhere. Hasbi to get down at MCC bank and then on to the Railway station; Sindhu, KBT to get to Manaanchira; Kiran to take the Kuthiravattam route or those marauding line buses for some excitement and to get to the town in 5 minutes.

Just to clarify the 5 minute thing; for those who don't know the 2sq km called Chevayoor. It was a good 5 kilometers from the city center. With Thondayad on one end and Chevayoor angaadi at the other, there were just three commercial entities in between - Suresh-ettan's pettikkada, Abhilash's shop opposite Presentation and a small hotel next to it. That meant the nearest vegetable shop was almost a kilometer down hill at Thondayad - and on very hot summer days, or if there was a cricket match on the radio - the fastest way to get home after a quick Saturday vegetable shopping was to take a bus to Thondayad. But bus conductors had a problem with it - they objected to anyone taking a bus ride to the next stop.

Chevayoor being two stops away and at a 40 paisa fare; was a more friendly option - and thus I established commercial linkages with the angaadi. Mohan das-ettan for vegatables; and SS - stores for provisions (groceries as they call in America). This must have been 1984 (yes when Big Brother was watching all over the world; as per the Americans); when one day Sr Rose Mary came to see my neighbour doctor uncle in our colony and visited home only to be told that her student is out vegetable shopping at the age of eight. She surely made a passing mention in class the next day; in jest more than anything. Coming back to Mohan-ettan and SS-stores, nothing has changed over the last 24 years. Exactly the same number of grey hairs, same helping staff, the same place for rice, jaggery, chandan thiri, the same cash counter with Nutrine and Big Fun bubble gum. The son sits in place of the father, some times, except that - everything else seemed to disregard time as an X-axis.

Mohan das-ettan's vegatable shop is the first one on the right side as you approach Chevayoor angadi from Presentation schools side - just next to a barber shop. It never overflowed with vegetables like the ones in Kovoor or the ones diagonally opposite across the junction. It had 80% of what was there in the list to buy for home. All his cows at home, made his home the local milk distribution hub to his neighbourhood - sometimes I have felt he was doing the vegetable business as a servcice to humanity than anything else. What he did offer friends and loyal customers was mind blowing "Lime soda - salted". Even the best of barmen in the best of restaurants I have been to, did not open the soda bottle like he did. One of his huge circle of friends was Aali-kka; the local post man, and one day I would make an important journey of discovering my neighbourhood through his shoes. That is for later.

Abdul Razack K T

Some are destined to walk the same path for 12 years; to the extent of being at the same place at the same time. The only difference was Razack decided to run all along and I walked. I have a small medal at home, which says "Winner - running race - LKG". This was my second prize ever and have preserved it; and for those same reasons I remember remnants of the event in itself. All I know is I came first in the race. But in hindsight, am sure there was another boy who ran the race - Razack. I faint when I think that I actually beat him in a running race. But that was to be the very last time. He won every other race that I participated or witnessed for the next 12 years I was to see him in action.
Then there was a new event once in sports day; "cricket ball throw". I enrolled as I assumed I was the junior star of State Bank Officers Colony and new how to bowl the cricket ball with full action and all that. How many kids of age 7 would know that? So we all stood on the D-day, in the lower ground; right side; immediately after you climb down the stairs from the ground where all the kinder garten kids used to play. We had the entire length of the ground to throw at. "Aaraa first eriyaan varunnadu?", the sister who was in charge asked around. The hero from State Bank Colony put his hand up; to display his bowling abilities and proceeded to the run-up, after taking 10 steps and all. He threw the best full toss he could; with complete action and all; (it is a cricket ball throw remember? - not any random ball) and the ball landed after about 10 meters. Then came Razack. No run up, no action, one wild swish of the arm and the red object flew miles and probably landed at the other end of the ground. "This is cheating, you are supposed to be bowling it, and not throwing it", a young boy rebelled silently in mind.

Then came the sports days in Presentation. No bags, only packed lunch and shoes if you are a runner. After usually getting defeated in the qualifiers in the 100 metres, I would wait for the long jump or lemon and spoon (when it was an Olympics event). An entire school wearing anti-aids-like ribbons in the colours of pink, white and red (picturising Joy, Peace and Love). I was never in the Love squad (heh heh.. and happy about it). Was in Joy house many times and Peace house a couple of times. By noon there would be a few people whom the fortunes of each of the houses depended on - Razack, Biju, Sumeesh, Lumina's brother (was his name Vinu?), Ajay Alex, Bijoy Alex, Lumina, another girl whose name began with an "S"; and as they turned the blind corner around the convent and crossed the headmistress' room into the last lap, the crowd roared; and said "up-up" [Such noble souls we were then.. hmmmmm] and some among us would race along with these folks outside the tracks as they ran; so that they could be with their racing heros at the finish line and listen in and empathise with their moments of fame. ["I was leading till the convent, till he changed tracks and blocked me.. else I would have been first"]. But I have never seen Razack complain. He would sit and look at his soles, drink some water and go do his next race. what strength and energy!
The strength and energy came every day packed in steel lunch boxes at 1220 in a Jeep. Hot and straight from the Sagar kitchen - for Razack and his brothers and sisters, who studied there. Chicken Biriyani - with a compulsory leg piece or Poratta and Meen fry - on alternate days. Immediately he was offered with open lunch boxes for an exchange. What he liked he picked for an exchange of stuff from his box. If he really LOVED it, Razack's lunch box was yours. At the end of the day, there was a little bit of Razack (or should it be strength and energy?) in each of us.

I told you about the destiny of walking the same path. When Amma and I went to Silver Hills for an application form; the only two applicants waiting for forms were Razack and I. Then post the "entrance exam" to Silver Hills, first day at new school, the attendance register had the familair ring. The attendance still started with Abdul Razack K T; as it always had - ever since I started school, it would remain so till 10 standard. Till that day when we exchanged autographs and set off in different directions.
For the first time in my life, I would not be sharing a classroom with Abdul Razack.

3 years later, I met him at a gym; during summer vacations. His physique said that he has been a regular. He drove me around in what was the best model of car available in Calicut in 1994. Then again, a chance meeting said he was in Bangalore and then again back in Sagar - when I was searching for a table for 5; on a busy Saturday afternoon. Nammalu ethra kaalayeda kandittu... he mentioned when he instructed his staff to take care of me and my lunch companions.

That evening, I dusted up my standard tenth autograph book. The entry signed by Abdul Razack said "we are the only people who have spent 12 years of school together. Forget me not".

Rajesh L S

There are some incidents and people whom after lying dormant in your memory for a long long time and the first instance of re-collection it all comes back fresh and vivid.
He had left a note at my home that said "just tell Ashok that Rajesh had called"; and I thought it was another person by the same name. So he called again and when I picked it up "Guess who this is?"; he said. I said "give me more context. talk a little more and give me some swear words or something, as many people have their own trademark words which give them away". In this case there was none, no accent of a particular district. Straightforward Malayalam for someone who lived in many places in the state and who can change the tune specific to where he is at any point in time or place. He said "edaaa idu Rajesh aanu". Oh "L S!!" I exclaimed.
Truly so, for Rajesh LS has faint roots in Tamil Nadu or bordering Palakkad somewhere which makes him rather at ease at Tamil as well as the Palakkaad graamam bhaasha. Then Calicut and then Trivandrum; he had actually lived across the state before he had turned 15.
There were two Rajesh's ; Rajesh LS and Rajesh P; so one was called just "LS" and the other RajeshPea; with no space in between the name and the initials. There is a second standard school photo; which went it gets dusted up from my mother's carefully preserved albums to see her sons in the way she always would like to see them; which is the picture I remembered Rajesh in till I saw him in March 2008; may be more than 20 years later. Big eyes, neatly combed hair and comparatively less gawky than the rest of the boys in the photograph.
And for some reason; some brothers are remembered in school as packages - and Rajesh had one too Ramesh L S. So it was only obvious that I asked him about his brother to only know that in he lived only 6 kilometers away from where I lived in Bangalore. He too led the exodus that happened from Presentation to Silver Hills after class 5th or 6th. At Silver Hills may be he had his circle and I had mine; am unable to remember too many instances at Silver Hills where we were in a story together. Then all I knew is sometime in high school he had left for Trivandrum. I was told Christ Nagar and later when on a school excursion to Kovalam, Kanya Kumari, Kodaikanal, Madurai etc; we stopped over at Christ Nagar school on a Sunday and I remember remembering "this is where L S studies".
On March 2008 one day he took the time from his office to visit me at the hotel and we met up for lunch. Rajesh had changed in his looks. We could have easily sat next to each other in a bus for about 5 minutes and got up without knowing who each other was. The neatly combed hair had not changed one bit. No shades of hair loss ; and not one strand out of place. If you morphed the hairlines against the second standard photo, it would overlap 98% may be. He worked in an investment banking firm and played a part in the Sensex movements in Dalal Street. If you be nice to him, he will let you where to put your money in the market - for free, else he charges you a fortune. I don't really remember what we talked - other than ramblings of what does one get to do in the city post office hours and some beer joints between Techno park and the airport - but I got the sense that LS had the potential to go wild; given the right amount of crystal glass, spirits on the rocks. Curious enough to tap that part of his I suggested we go meet up later in the evening before I my flight. My official event got delayed. We ended up meeting at the airport and wandered around to find a good sit and drink place which was not to be.

Am sure I will tap the wild side of Rajesh sometime soon. May be Bangalore is an easier venue.

Mathew Thomas

Mathew and I never ever spoke in all 7 years in our Presentation School stint. I don't think we were in the same sections ever. But Mathew Thomas became an instant star in my mind; when he was one of the few boys selected to do ball dance in primary school at the Presentation school annual day. I have no idea who he danced with. But I lived in an era or may be in my own mindset where little boys considered it un-cool to be seen talking to girls; despite wanting to; for the fear of being teased. In that scenario; dancing!; on stage!!; with 10 other girls!!!; with 1000 odd people watching!!!! (Oh My God!) would be enough incident for me to run away from home.
Already he was the star roller-skater in school and sometimes he won prizes that said he did skating for 12 hours non-stop. (wow! how did he do it.. but then.. didn't he have to....? may be there is a trick to it... ) random thoughts crossed my mind while I stood at the assembly while Mathew and sister Achamma brought back trophies from the REC Calicut Wheels competition or other events for very many years ; from the time I could remember. He inspired me to buy roller skates, and I inspired my brother to buy roller skates. I could not inspire myself to fall and hurt my knees. My brother started rolling on and would eat and sleep with them; till one day he inherited mine that was so unused that the ball bearings had got rusty.
May be it was eighth standard may be it was ninth; Mathew just shot up in height and had a rapid movement backwards in where he stood in the school assembly. Maybe that also gave him the reason to take permission to go to school in a bicycle. BSA - SLR - Maroon colour. With almost 90% of the route from Silver Hills to home being common; we started connecting. he showed me his cottage-looking house at Golf Link Road at Chevayoor. I have never been inside, but it looked lovely from the outside and Mathew talked about cocoa and pepper getting cultivated in plenty in his backyard and I used to visualised a huge playground full of black seeds and brown seeds that smelt like chocolate. Then he moved to Hill View Colony, where Praveen already stayed. I don't know the house number; but you drive straight into the colony, skip the first intersection and look for the last house on the left; that is his house. Keeping in touch wasn't an issue - in the five digit telephone exchanges that we had, I subtract 10 from my home phone number, it was Mathews. If I added 10, it was Calicut Medical College Ladies Hostel. Both came handy at different points in time. The first, to co-ordinate start times from home on bicycles, the latter to co-ordinate meeting times outside homes.
Then the usual suspects got rounded up again at Ouseph sir's house and Nambisan Uncle's house and as explained earlier in Anil P's write up; Ouseph sir; going by Mathew's maths marks; predicted Mathew's taking up engineering after school. and he did.
Post that, I met Mathew once in a cinema hall? not sure.. or was it at the railway station booking counter? anyway, he was straight out of a Beatles album - long flowing hair, printed shirts and very faded jeans. He visits once in a while and would take a mid-night bus that would take him to Kothamangalam at 6 in the morning! That was quick. He had evolved in life, like how all college goers evolve eventually. If not during first year, they evolve in the second or third year. By final year, one is actually so evolved; that sometimes it takes a warden or a hostel raid to put to back to ground reality.

Mathew moved to Pune, I moved to Lucknow. E-mails and messengers were being put to proper use those days, unlike the days of maniacally forwarded jokes. mattkanjickal and ashrk connected as online entities with yellow faces that had smileys that winked, in a language we had never ever spoken to each other before - even in the language class - English.

After a long break of may be 5 years, I heard from him again when his junior announced his arrival. I hope someday he reads this; and asks his dad "where was your cottage in Golf Link Road?". A different structure stands where his colonial cottage stood, but am sure he will feel the walls and rooms strongly enough to paint the picture for a young son to dream about.

Praveen Balachandran

I don't remember the first time i saw Praveen. He was not there in my Class 2 A group photograph. So may be he joined school later than that or he was in a different division - class 2B. At Class 4 we were together; with Sister Rose Mary being the class teacher. Sister Rose Mary believed in relationships; and may be in jest; she did a good job of pairing up the boys and girls in the class to sit together. The reason she quoted Praveens' getting paired up with Swapna was that they look lovely as a couple. Now looking at that class 4 photograph, she was right. Praveen and Swapna were two of the best looking people in their respective genders and am sure he did start creating a flutter in innocent 9 year olds in blue skirts, pig tails, pony tails and white ribbons.

Praveen's house was on the way to school. In Hill View Colony. The house had a rear entrance that was accessible from the road and the main entrance that one had to go through their colony for. Every morning, i would sneak in; through the rear entrance. For a reason that I still don't know of, I avoided the main entrance through the colony road. Even after 1 year of daily visits, his mother would open the door with a smile; to let in a nine year old; who increasingly thought it was his right to be let in. I also remember Praveen's uncle, who was his college's star in Volley ball and could actually jump and touch the ceiling of the house that was 10 feet high (Wow!!).

Now I don't even know why I used to visit his house. The only reason I remember, which was valid for a short time, was television had just arrived Calicut in 1984 and we still had not bought one. The Indian Cricket Team was in Australia to play the Benson & Hedges World Series of Cricket. It was the first time cricket was played in coloured clothing and India had Blue and Yellow. The regular morning starts in Australia meant a start at about 4:30 am India time. By the time I was in Praveen's house at 8:00 am or so (20 minutes ahead of my usual visits) ; the match would be interestingly poised.

At school, the guava tree in the left end of the playground was a hang-out point. Coming to think of it, Presentation High school had the ambience of a resort. There Praveen, with roots in Vadakara would argue why Vadakara was the best place to be. It seems so, that majority of Volley Ball payers in the Kerala state team was from Vadakara, and it seems so was Thacholi Odenan, the great hero of Malabar folk songs. The rest of the gang would not refute. One, his uncle was a volley ball player. So we presumed that what Praveen said about Volly ball was correct. Two, none of us knew the origins of Odenan, so we gave it to him.

I moved to Silver Hills after standard 5 and Praveen joined two years later. Silver Hills had a strong migrant population from Presentation (not Presentations' fault. But boys were not allowed in Presentation after standard 7), so getting imbibed was not an issue for Praveen. By now he was a member of the Under-12 Kerala State team for cricket; and was at the age of 13, also getting considered for the Under 15 team. Cricket took care of fans and admirers among all sections of the society

Maybe it is because of Praveen that I had the courage to ask Amma for permission to go to school in my bicycle, and it was definitely because of Praveen that I changed my bicycle handle from a standard one to a sporty one. All that resulted in our being a band of boys who travelled 14 odd kilometers every day, to and fro, on their bicycles - Mathew, Prameesh and sometime Biju MV were to join in.

The last I met him was in 1991. The tenth standard exams (that happened in March) results were out in May. Praveen had done very well and he would also have extra marks given by the education department because he represented the state in Cricket in January. Then I heard that he was in Kolar for his under graduation studies. then came the dark ages (when letter writing as an activity was on the decline; when there were no mobile phones; when the phones mentioned in school facebooks did not exist anymore and of course no Internet). Little did I know he worked two blocks away from my favorite pub in Bangalore for almost 2 years.

And in 2007 when I was inducted into Presentation's newly created e-group; a casual glance at some of the earlier mails had a subject "where is Praveen Balachandran???". No marks for guessing the gender of the enquirer. It had to be from an old classmate who was once in blue skirt, white shirt and pigtails

O T Sivaraman Nambiar

It was before the 80's and after I was born (that gives it 4 years), that I have my first memories of Sivamama. O T Sivaraman Nambiar for his colleagues in Kerala; O T Shivaram for his colleagues in the rest of India; Siva-mmama for me.
In the traditional hamlet of Thiruvannoor, the first address that I remember living at, there used to be a temple pond. I have memories of small boys running along the 6 foot high ledge and do a plunge towards the pool, splashing water in the faces of happy onlookers. Sheer moments of joy. I am told Shivammama was the one who used to take me there on those walks. In the extreme ends of my memory, I remember his room in the Thiruvannoor house - a cot, a study table, and a row of books. Which actually summed up the man - working professional, part time student ambitious about higher studies and a voracious reader.

His mother (my grandmother) would tell me about how Shivammama got miraculously cured from a bout of polio as a young child. Part providence, part Ammoomma's faith and part destiny. He has been on the move ever since. Kannur to Kozhikkode Guruvayoorappan College - where he graduated in Chemistry and had his first brush with writing fiction. Calicut to Ernakulam as a professional in the F.A.C.T, Alwaye and then onto Kerala Soaps and Oils.

As a street smart personal products sales man; he traveled across South India as far as distribution networks reached, competing with some of the big-wigs of the global industry at that time. May be it was because of his quick wit, his very warm smile and the sense of being earthly genuine, may be hundred odd people from all over the country made an earnest attempt to travel to a corner coastal town, that is Calicut to attend his wedding to Sobha-ammayi in Nov 1 1980.
He had his life split between Calicut and where his markets were; all across India; just as he had his self split between the rigours and tact of a street-smart marketing professional and the romance within, of a writer waiting to explode. On those stints at Calicut, he would take me to school in his Bajaj scooter [Yes I was one of the very few in class who got a lift to school on rare days like these - the rest, like me walked, or took the public bus system or the school bus system] In those days of Ambassador and Fiat; cars were a rarity; let alone people who got dropped to schools in a car. On the weekend nights as a bachelor, he would sprawl himself on the cool red oxide floor and listen to Vividh Bharati or other Radio song shows in our old Murphy portable radio and fall asleep.
He has that incredible gift of falling asleep where and when he wills; be it a crowded day train or a peaceful Sunday afternoon; and also the gift of getting up in the wee hours of morning to put pen on paper; thus giving vent to literary ideas drumming within. Getting up that early in the morning was not new for him, for sometime in the 80's; despite his gruelling work schedule, he had worked his way to top the MBA course at Osmania University
As I stepped into college and as he moved into Cochin as one of the marketing forces behind the Spices Board operations in the city; I got to know Shivammama better. The power distance between the uncle and the nephew was broken; and I started reading between his conversations that he would place with a wink of his already narrow eyes - to decipher tongue-in-cheek humour meant only for the select few. More and more people in niche circles started looking forward to that humour - be it in management circles or on social occasions - and a leadership office bearer position in the Kerala Management Association provided the platform for that.
Now as he travels through the world on official work; he realises the richness of his experience - back-room business battles won and lost, stories of ordinary people who achieved their dreams, what goes on behind a front page article on the leading business dailies and is already putting pen on paper. When the output is ready, I don't have to tell you its arrival.

It will announce itself.

Biju MV

Every kindergarten goers' diary has some essential details of parents, address, blood group etc; and it usually has some space for "Best friends". I know what my younger brother had written; as we found his diary in the attic few years ago. I don't have printed proof for an act I put down in paper in 1980, but am sure Biju MV was one of them.
My mother recollects an instance when two 7 year old's ran and thumped their chests into one another (like how tennis doubles partners do nowadays to express solidarity) at S M Street one holiday evening; at sheer sight of each other. Biju MV...Bijuyembee.. Bijumbee... my mother figured out the connect when his son said he had a great friend named Bijumbee at school. The chest-bumping act just proved the relationship.
Skipping a year or two in between Biju and I had stints in same schools in same years and have travelled similar paths. Here is one such path. One day the school got over early and after long conversations in the school playground, about the girls in class we hated and giving them secret pseudo-names; Biju and I walked all the way from Presentation School to my house 1.5 kilometers away; played cricket for a while; hit two huge sixes; lost all the tennis balls we had at my home; and then we went down the hill 2 kilometers away to Biju's house. After playing cricket in his veranda and answering some questions his father asked two eight year old's; it was time for me to leave. "You know there is another secret way to your house?"; it was 6 pm, there was still light enough to last 30 minutes more; but I was late by more than 1 hour of my scheduled arrival from school and had not left a word at home; so disciplinary action was a given. But the opportunity to walk through a secret way (where no man had walked before, as I was told) was too good to resist for an eight year old, even if it takes a little longer. I was home at 6:45 pm I think that day, after Biju duly showed me through the secret passage - it was the latest I was out without letting anyone know. Amma believed in nipping deviant behavior in the bud. On rare occasions when she did that; the hibiscus plant's stick also is nipped off leaves and buds. I remember this to-date; meaning; it was a good lesson learnt. Neither of us told each other what happened at our respective houses on that day.

This was the time when Biju was not yet the sports day celebrity he was to later become, in Presentation and Silver Hills. And when he did realise and believe that he had wings in his feet; he was the star of the "Joy" house ["Peace" and "Love" being the other houses students were divided into]. At the end of the day when the prizes were given away, a sense of pride travelled within me as he came back and stood with ME or sat with ME , before he went on to receive another one.

In class 8, Biju joined Silver Hills. we were school mates again. I had moved in two years ago. This was a new Biju. The induction into teenage had changed both me and him. The legs still had the wings; the cheeky smile was still there; but a spirit of brazen adventure has set in. There was a 4pm bus that would just refuse to stop by the bus stop, just to avoid a sea of blue and white uniforms crowding in on subsidised student concessions. One day Biju took it head-on by standing on the middle of the road as the bus turned the corner ans sped towards the bus stop. 50 odd students watched the big green vehicle advance towards a spunky 13-year old exuding attitude. The bus honked in an effort to intimidate the boy; who stood still. The students had their eyes closed and the some of us had hands in our heads and eyes popping out. It was too late to even attempt a rescue; to risk getting crushed under a multi-tonner zooming in at 60kmph. The bus screeched to a halt. May be there was a 6 inch gap between the front fender and the boy. Passengers jolted by the brake looked out to see what was happening and hoped not to see the worst. A minute later, thirty odd students led by their new hero was already in the bus.
Another instance: the same bus slowed down to an almost halt to let off a passenger and sped out again. The sports hero in the boy took over; he ran to catch up with the bus enough to get a hand on to the ladder behind. And as students and passers-by looked on with their mouths open; the bus sped away with a student taking a free ride hanging onto a ladder behind.

After stints at tuition classes (Ouseph sir and Nambisan Uncle); I met Biju may be midway through college. we both may have been 20 or 21 then. Biju was trading pups I heard; and had a motorbike of his own. We connected again at a level we had not; for more than 10 years may be. We talked about college, women in college we had crushes at, plans into the future; and other random things men (ahem, yes men of 20 or 21) generally tend to talk.

And as we had had done many many years ago, at the end of it all; he dropped me home; in his bike, donning sun-glasses and all. No secret passages as before, but through the main road in front of school. We were grown-up people; and there were no hibiscus treatment this time :). Yes, we had come back the proverbial full circle.

Then in 2007 may be after 10 years, a Minnesotta bridge collapse got us connected again. Nisha chechi, who is in the US, called up to check on Biju who resides not far away from the bridge; and as luck would have it; she passed on my e-mail to Biju. We are in touch; through internet - a medium that feels strange to connect through English, to a child hood friend - but at least we are; and am happy for that.

Anil P

We, the boys of Kannur have an attitude. An attitude to have an accent that can be deciphered only from Ponnani and north of it. Valluvanad will do ok, but Travancore will suffer to make sense. So sometime in 1980 or 81 when a four year old, with tears in his eyes asked around "n'dammene-kkandinaa"; "n'dammene-kkandinaa"; not many of the mothers who came to pick up their young brats and beauties got what the kid was really after. Till my grandma came into scene to pick me up from school. "n'dammene-kkandinaa"; "n'dammene-kkandinaa"; the kid went again. "Illalo mone, ndamma aediyaa poyineee?". "Nee ende koodey vanno" She had left Kannur in 1970 and had been in Kochi and in Calicut (at the time of this event), seamlessly integrating the nuances of the Malayali accent. But she wasn't to leave an opportunity to connect with a little boy who spoke her native accent or the boy stranded in school. That day Anil P came home till his mother came back from work. That was my first initiation with Anil P, whom I would be with till standard 5. From that day till we moved to another rented house 1 kilometer away, Anil would stop by in the morning to check if I was ready to go to school.
I moved schools in standard 5; Anil moved school and his house to the other side of Chevayoor. But we still met; at the Bazaar or the Post Office occasionally till Ouseph Sir decided to put us in the same tuition batch in 10th standard (or was in 9th?). " Anil, marks parayoo, Malayathinu ethra kitteee? Englishino?" [Ouseph sir was part Malayalam Vidwaan and part Economist. Economist for the reason that he would ask for your overall performance in school after every term examination and would make a reasonably good estimate of what we would end up getting in the Final examination]. He was going around the table and it was Anil's turn now to communicate his marks in all the 12 papers one wrote for SSLC. Anil would do it and write it down at the back of his tuition class copy immediately. He had to, as his exam scores always had 3 versions to it - The version he told his mother; the version he told Ouseph sir and then, the reality.

Even after he moved to central kerala to do his Bachelors and Master in Occupational Therapy, we would still meet at the same places near Chevayoor, when on end year breaks.
Talked to him over phone, a year ago, when he was going through a situation of personal distress. Even then his "Nee Ippo aediyaa?", made me switch to the best malabarese I wait for to talk to someone to.

Last month my brother showed me a familiar face in orkut and asked me "Is this your friend Anil?".. There was a moustache and the expanded version of the initial "P"; but the man still remains, the classmate who came home clutching my grandma's finger the other day.