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.