Home again!
What does it take to be homeless?
A recent viral video, posted about a homeless person, moved me. To my knowledge, a homeless Mallu* in a first world country was non-existent. How did he get there is a continuing story. The background of how he reached Houston, Texas 37 years ago is the basis of this musing.
Home is where the heart is
At the end of a tiring day, we come home longing to put our feet up. We have a place to call home, and we took this luxury for granted.
It took COVID-19 barely a month to spread discontent and disrupt our mindset. Looking in, we found and experienced new emotions, sometimes with masks on! Looking out of the window, we learnt to appreciate our freedom.
Getting bored meant more, I have begun to enjoy it! Many of us explored the hidden corners of the mind and dusted every part of the house! Some of us polished old passions and dabbled in new hobbies. My wife began to enjoy cooking and even started preserving vegetables. I did my bit by enjoying her cooking and remembering to appreciate vocally!
I am fortunate to call two places my home; Kerala, a sliver of a state described as ‘God’s own country’, and the incredibly beautiful province of Ontario.
A tribute to Mallus all over the world
The migration of Mallus* gathered momentum in the nineteen sixties. They helped build Dubai and many Gulf countries; highly educated Mallus migrated to developed countries. Many gained entry to prestigious schools and grew roots everywhere. A few of them succeeded as entrepreneurs. There’s a saying … when Neil Armstrong landed on the moon, he found a Mallu welcoming him with hot and foaming tea!
In the nineteen seventies, getting a job in Kerala was impossible. Manufacturers thought hard before setting up units; strong unions and the Communist regime planted flags indicating strikes for anything and everything before companies opened doors for business.
A high level of education was the top priority. Becoming engineers and doctors were the only noble professions. If one could not make the grades, one got into teaching. Banks, hospitals, and schools were the few employers.
Disappointingly, for my family, I did not fit into any illustrious mould. The next option, if one was lucky, was to hightail to a big city, preferably Bombay [Mumbai]. With more than a big push from my uncles and a passion for the creative arts, I got a job with print publishing. My stint as a journalist grounded the rest of my career.
Since the eighties travelling home has grown into a fond collection of moving images and emotions that I’ve lined outside my heart. Every year I got a month’s break, one of those rare chances to get away from the big city. I always made the best of it. Flights then were rare and expensive. Express trains took more than two days to travel one thousand two hundred kilometres.
My first trip back home
I liked travelling home alone, curled up with a good book, and eavesdropping on the cross-section of society. A couple was talking about their daughter’s marriage. A late aunt’s daughter earlier that year wore 40 sovereigns of gold! They worried about the amount of gold their daughter should wear for her wedding. They were contemplating selling their ancestral home to make up the difference and finish on top.
Two men on top berths across the aisle were heatedly discussing politics and forcing severe recommendations on one another. The small family below them was settling down after a deliciously fragrant vegetarian meal. They tucked the little ones away on the middle berths and turned in for the night.
Further down the open corridor, a group of soldiers crouched around a metal chest playing cards; the winners raised their voices occasionally. Earlier I had passed two teenagers sitting with their legs dangling out of the open door and smoking undercover. The metal door of the ladies coupe, secured from inside, could not stop the aroma of chicken biryani escaping from a slit under the metal door.
The hurtling world of smells, humans, and metal sped through the pitch-black countryside. I dozed off lulled by the rhythmic sounds of the train.
[Fast] Takataka dukudukum. Takataka dukudukum. Takataka dukudukum. Takataka dukudukum.
Changing scenery
When I woke up, the day was breaking. The previous evening I had coaxed the passenger sitting across to take the upper berth. With two exclusive window seats to the outside world, I got ready to savour Kerala.
I opened the glass shutter with some effort to take in the landscape. The metal bars, painted over and over, hid the bumps from previous rusting. I rested my face on the bars and closed my eyes. I took in the wind, tasted the smells, and absorbed the sounds.
The change in scenery from bordering Tamil Nadu to Kerala is divine. A million shades of green, and then some; my eyes and soul cooled at the sight of mother nature preening herself.
[Slow] Takataka dukudukum. Takataka dukudukum. Takataka dukudukum. Takataka dukudukum.
The train had begun to crawl across a river in spate and stopped in the middle. I strained against the metal bars to see what was causing the delay. I imagined the train driver was just cautious. Maybe a cow was caught in the middle of the bridge.
A vallom in the middle of the wide river caught my attention. An old man leaned on a pole and walked the edge from one end to the other, propelling the boat with his foot. He was wearing an umbrella made with palm leaves firmly stuck on his head. The rest of his clothes were in tatters.
Laden with coconuts, the swirling waters came up dangerously close to the top of the vallom. It was as if the train stopped to watch the old man make it safely to the other side. Then it sighed a long hearty whistle. The old man waved.
The train started again.
[Slowly] Takataka dukudukum. Takataka dukudukum. Takataka dukudukum. Takataka dukudukum.
I dozed off. When I opened my eyes, the train was taking a bend. I could see the locomotive in the distance spewing dark clouds into a gradient green landscape. I sensed that I was getting closer home. In the distance, palm trees swayed and waved at me from the foot of a long chain of mountains covered by mist. The sky became moody and threatened to cry.
Then it began to rain heavily. I closed my eyes and felt the big droplets wash my face and trickle down. Were they tears of joy? I felt the water go deep down and cleanse my soul. I was happy again.
The train moved on to more open spaces. Children kept pace running and waving till the terrain grew treacherous. Neatly divided paddy fields looked like a giant quilted green carpet. Flat-chested men and women with hats made of palm leaves stood bent at the waist with legs spread out in ankle-deep muddy water planting saplings.
The landscape began preparing for a town. Vegetation thinned, and brick and mortar dwellings stepped out, marking the foundation of a concrete jungle.
The loud splash from a kulam caught my attention. Big continuous raindrops pounded on the dark green surface of the pool of water drawing concentric circles. At the farthest end of the kulam was the kadavu, a low tiled enclosure. The men’s section of the kadavu had a crop of children splashing about. One child ran along the edge on the side and jumped; a 20 feet drop.
The other end of the kadavu held two women. One woman was beating clothes on a slab of stone. The younger girl, most likely the daughter, crouched in the water with bare shoulders; water poured down from the tiled roof in front of her forming a curtain. Her long black hair formed a fan around her floating in the water. I felt her eyes piercing and frank with curiosity.
The train pulled up to the platform and porters came running in looking for off-boarding travellers. My train of thoughts had reached home.
I want to go home. At least one more time.
* Notes
- Kerala is a state in India.
- Inhabitants of Kerala are called Keralites or Malayalees; they are referred to as Mallus
- Vallom is a long, narrowboat with a scooped inside and is popular in the backwaters of Kerala and even at sea before the motorboats took over.
- Kulam is a large pond or a natural swimming pool with bricks around for stability and soil erosion. The kulam is normally twice the size of an average swimming pool; the earth is dug up, roughly in square formations of 100 feet. The walls and steps are paved with stone; the water is filled naturally by springs.
- Men and women had separate kadavu [enclosure]
- The man in the video is talking Malayalam and English. Various community organizations have contacted him and planned his entry into normal life.
