Friday 31 August 2012

Hotel Vilasini & Tea Shop

Those were the days when people of GOC did not feel the need to white wash Kitchens. It had to be black any way just like cars offered by Ford long back.
The smoke from fire wood ensured that no part of the Kitchen is left uncoated with the primal hue. The food cooked there in also had the slight taste of smoke. It was never noticed or disliked by the patrons. The cooks seemed to be smoke resistant. They came out only when need arose, that was to deliver the orders or retrieve the empty plates.

At times wet rubber wood in the hearth made so much smoke that now a days one might be tempted to call the fire brigade. But back then fire engines were so rare that people ran after them to see them working. The main activity of the fire brigade was to stage a tableau of a rescue operation, in the exhibition, on the national firemen's day. The show was widely covered by the press that claimed 500% readership.

Krishnan Kutty, owner of Hotel Vilasini And Tea Shop, was a very good cook, hard working and skilled. He was the only cook for the near by boarding school for years. He was very popular among the inmates there as he never interfered with the activities of the boys. He entertained younger boys with tricks of eating glass pieces and razor blades and older boys by describing his romance with the washer man's wife. He called her Vilasini. Her name was Ammini, I knew, but did not consider it an important enough detail to tell any one. Being a long term inmate I had heard the stories many times and had seen the tricks several times.

Tuesday 28 August 2012

Onam, the story of Mahabali

Long back when no one knew how to read or write there was a small kingdom in GOC, where the people led very happy contended lives. The ruling King had no name. People knew very little about him, but he was thought to be  very strong and wise. So he was referred to as 'The strong man' (Maha balishtan or Mahabali in Malayalam)
No one had ever seen him or heard him. But the bright lamps, lit every day at sun set, at the castle on the hill, where he lived alone, declared his presence.

The people paid their taxes in the form of the best food stuffs, cloth and oil for the lamps. They vied with each other to make the best kind in everything which were then handpicked with great care and offered to the king. When ever new & innovative farm implements or arms were made, those too were placed in a hall at the entrance of the fort. The doctors who developed new effective medicines also did the same.

The king kept only the ones he approved. The others were returned damaged, after inspection, which very rarely occurred as the offerings where made after much thought. The manufacturing of such defective products was not taken up but tried to improve upon. The kingdom progressed in all fields and people were happy and contented.

The distant kings heard about the king and his people but were afraid to attack because the greatness of the goods and services available in the kingdom.
Years passed. A young king from a far away land attacked the kingdom with a large army. Even after the siege of fort for 3 weeks, no sign of distress showed. The young king was worried as he was running out of food and provisions and his soldiers were becoming restless. The young Conquerer decided to find out how the soldiers in the fort survived so many days.

Saturday 18 August 2012

The protest of the rats

When you see so many of them marching through the Mahatma Gandhi Road, you feel like laughing. But the situation is different,when you realize that you can not do any thing about it.
They were every where on the road, on the foot paths, in the rain water drains, on the garbage bins, parked vehicles, standing trees.......every where, thickly packed. They moved together creating a huge grey carpet moving over the road.
More and more were coming out from every imaginable place, from the gutters, buildings, even from the open spaces where you thought nothing can remain hidden. Millions arrived from the boat jetty, where the market canal met the backwaters, an ocean of rats.