Life at Periyaar...

My year at Grade 6 and 7 were disastrous. I always failed in Tamil or Biology, even though I went for tutions. I never studied, nor made an effort to do so. My Tamil was awful!!!!!! If I tried to study to get a pass in Tamil, I flunked in Biology. There were other problems too, at which end I pleaded with my parents to get me out of there. There was a time when I kept telling people I will be in the same school till I finish Grade 12. I started off kindergarten here, and my parents never thought of shifting us out of that school. Then this crisis came and they took me out and put me and my sister in a Matriculation School run by the Periyar Institutions.

[Note: Again, No offence meant to anyone. This is just a real-life experience. I write with the point of view of an Grade 8 student - must have been 12 years old].

Periyar Educational Complex is a big complex of lots of institutions run inside a big campus. It is run by the non-political DK group (Dravidar Kazhagam). It was founded by Periyar. He's dead now, and the whole group and the institutions associated with it is run by the DK group chairman, name forgotten right now. They do a lot of charity work and fight for the rights of women and so on. A majority of the institutions they run are for girls - an all-girl engineering college, a pharmacy college and so on. They are weird, though.

I studied in their matriculation school for a year - my Grade 8 year. The list of their weirdness is as follows.

1. All their institutions open by morning 8am. This is because the chairman is so impressed by the American system of early starts...and he wants his brood of chickens to do the same as well. For an Indian scenario, this really doesn't work. My mom worked in their pharmacy college, so all three of us getting ready by 7:30am was a nightmare.

2. All the schools got over by 2:30pm. The colleges and other organisations closed at regular times, like any other place, around 4 or 5pm. We school kids had a hard time, coz we go home and no one is there, a scenario when both parents are working. As is natural with all kids, we wreacked havoc at home, and what with our sibling fights, we wasted time.

3. As is common in any private management organisation, this one had its own rituals as well. Whenever the chairman visited the school, we students had to line up to welcome him. I didn't mind that, but the worst part were the chants we had to do when he walked by. We had to chant "God doesn't exist", "Long live Periyar" (who happens to be long dead anyway), "Long live his goals". Believe me, this was the dumbest thing that ever happened to me.

4. Public holidays were only for Christmas, Ramzan and Diwali. Oh, but we did get holidays for Periyar's birthday and death day, his wife's birthday and death day. No holidays for the countless ritualistic celebrations that the hindus have. They celebrated Pongal because it was a Tamil festival, not necessarily specific of any God.

5. 24th December is the day Periyar died. There is a statue of Periyar in Trichy, at the center of the city, where the bus station is. All staff (lucky students!) have to compulsorily attend a gathering around the statue, where the chairman and a whole bunch of people garland his statue, and then attend a meeting held at their headquarters in Trichy, which incidentally was just opposite to where we lived. This is weird because the staff have to dress in the official Periyar dress...a death dress of black and white, which isn't quite interesting when the next day is Christmas. The staff had to compulsorily attend because if not, the gathering would not be as crowded as it is with them.

Since all their official (and unofficial) meetings happen at the place opposite to our house, we sometimes used to go to our terrace to watch the people who give speeches and listen to them, just for the fun of it. They always end their speech with the chants I mentioned above. They always find any excuse a nice reason to critise any religion and any God. Most of their speeches are usually about how bad Hindu Gods are and the myths and reality of them. I agree India is a free country and everyone has a freedom of speech, but people do respect one another. They respect other's religion, and that is why people in India live with peace and harmony. The speeches and thoughts of the DK people can be bugging sometimes.

The DK organisation does a lot of work among the scheduled castes and tribes, uplifting them and fighting for their rights. They are not into politics, but prefer to reach out to the common people without the aid of them. My mom worked in their institution for a long long time. Through her, I have met a lot of people who have really benefitted from their help. Mom used to be proud of all the services they render to the common man. Weird is weird anyway!

I was there for a year, and the only thing that got better was my Tamil. That's because my friend was very good in Tamil and she made sure I atleast matched up a little bit for me being her friend. That was the first time I encountered somebody who really showed me what friendship was all about...helping out, reaching out, being there, admonishing you for your bad and praising you for your good. Life at Periyar wasn't so bad after all. Weird is weird anyway!!

Munchies!!!!!!!! From Home!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Got a long lost package today from an aunt of mine who had visited India in January this year. Dad and my Uncle and Aunt had sent me some stuff and you bet I am glad to have it. It was lost until yesterday and I was worried about it, partly because it had all the worldly jewels I ever possessed, and partly because it had some dosa mix. I didn't know about the rest of the stuff that was in and I was so surprised to see eats from the southernmost tip of India! Wow!!!!!!!!!!

Dad has special places spread all over Nagercoil and his contacts give him the best of what they have to offer...in food! He has a special connection with a bakery where they make the best plum cakes I have ever tasted so far. Forget JM Bakery from Coimbatore for its plum cakes. Its quality is so bad now that it is not even worth to pay half the price for a kilo of plum cake. (Again.. exclusive my opinion not meant to offend others - I really don't like those cakes anymore). Dad knows this particular bakery well, and when he tells them he needs cakes to take home, they make it specially for him. Same goes for a banana chips place and other goodies that are exclusive for Nagercoil. He's got a good place for cashews too.

Seeking places where they make good munchies come from the fact that his whole family likes to eat, and when it comes to sending it half-way across the globe so that his "beloved daughter" could have a taste of home, I bet the people who made it would have taken extra care. I say this because I have received it after more than a month of the cake's arrival to the States and it hasn't got a bit of fungus on it yet. Ofcourse, credit of packaging goes to my Dad and Uncle. No need for regular phone calls (not that they make them anyway), no need for emails and letters. In the depth of my heart I know both my parents always think of me and love me, and ofcourse, as long as I get stuff like this often, I will live happily ever after!

The next field trip

This is an experience that happened only once in my life (better that way). Now when I think about it, it all seems so unreal and weird to me, and funny too. I am referring to my first (and last) ever so-called field trip (or tour, rather) to my grandparents' village. These are my mother's parents, long dead anyway. My mom had never been to that village in a long long while and we had never been to any place called a village, so we all were very eager to go.

My idea of an ideal village goes like this. I always imagined a village to be lush green, with lots of paddy fields and little streams everywhere. I also thought about a village with a river, lots of ponds or lakes, and places where you can play in the water. I agree I am crazy about playing in water. To think I don't know to swim anyway. My imagination is typical of any Tamil movie that has a village scene in it. They do wonders with camera and photography; the villages always look lovely and fresh and beautiful.

The first biggest mistake we made when we set out for our village tour is that we went during our vacation in summer. Summer in villages mean no water. No water in villages mean no water in rivers, or streams or canals. And this means no paddy fields. We drove in our car, and as we got close to the village we were supposed to go, this point never sunk in my head. Everywhere I looked the land was barren, and there were lots of wild bushes and plants that normal fields don't have, and I was wondering what was wrong with the fields.

We had to cross a bridge built across a small river. The relatives with whom we went kept on saying that the river is usually full with water and every kid is out playing in the river. Since we came in summer, we are missing a lot of fun. When I looked at the river, it was dry....dry as in dry dry. I couldn't believe that the river could ever have seen water, except when it rains, if it ever rains, that is. That is when my enthusiasm of visiting a village dropped.

The second biggest mistake was that me and my sister were wearing shorts and t-shirts. Girls, never ever wear such clothes when you go to a village. We both were the "talk of the town", sorry, "village". Everywhere we went, a whole bunch of kids were there to gape at our clothes and I tell you, I was so scared I stuck like a blood-sucker to my mother.

The village was a small one, might have had about 200 families or so. We saw a live show of the "panchayat", where elders of the village gather under a real banyan tree to discuss problems of the village. My dad attended the panchayat that gathered that day. We kids were not allowed to interfere, so we watched the whole show from someone's house's balcony. Incidently, that was the only house that we went to that had a proper toilet.

Speaking of toilets, I did mention that only one house had a proper toilet. We were put up in one of my mom's relatives' place for the night and they had another toilet...a toilet that was a corner of a tree, where a small room was made with walls, made from coconut leaves. I am not saying anything more.

I mentioned earlier that we went in the summer. Summer is no-water season. The river had dried and people in that village had to walk more than two kilometers to fetch water for use at home. It was really sad to see people walk such a long distance for a couple of times to get water daily. Mom was always watching us when we used water to wash our hands and stuff; she didn't want us to waste even a drop.

Sleeping that night was disaster. No fan, and the hand-fans weren't of much use to put us to sleep. The minute someone stopped fanning us, we woke up. Add to the fan problem, there were mosquitos! We left the next morning. We never went there again. I don't think I will ever want to go. Even if I did, I will surely look in here again to do make sure I don't make the same mistakes my parents did when they took me first time.

Disclaimer

This is just a short note to let everyone who reads my blogs know that I don't have any grudge or hatred against any person or persons or place known or unknown when I write my articles. Even if I do, I don't intend to express it because my feelings are exclusive and they stay put with me. When I write, I write my thoughts, not my personal feelings against anything or anyone. Whatever I write is meant to be laughed at, thought about (if you want to), commented upon (again, if you want to) and left at that.