Schrodinger's cat and my dog. NOBEL PRIZE FOR HUSKY

" I must admit that there is a sudden improvement in news maker status of cats. Surprisingly a single cat is behind the entire change. No one knows his name. known only as Schrodinger's cat, he has made his  mark in every scientist's mind, be an astrophysicist or a microbiologist. 

'From philosopher to pupil, from priest to policeman, every one is really perplexed at the cat who is alive and dead at the same time. No one has ever seen him. If any one tries to see him the cat at once becomes dead. Otherwise it continues to live for ever". 

Very complicated?"

 It was my mobile phone. Reading out https://science.the ..........in/the-sciences/quantum-mechanics

It was a early morning in December, but it was not at all  chilling as it aught to be in normal case. I was at Husky's door  to open and let him out to his morning freedom. 

"Why don't you open it yourself ?". I teased him as usual.

He did not bother to answer me or run out to look up the places where the cats hide.

"Why are you not looking for the cats, are you not well?". My little dog has no grudge against cats as long as they don't violate the rules but likes to see them run away acknowledging his supremacy.

'The Schrodinger's cat' he replied.

His words and body signs were enough to explain  what he had in  his mind. I was surprised, though I am well aware of his language skills and general knowledge I never expected him to know about Schrodinger's cat.

"When ever your smartphone reads out from net about the cat, I listen".  He explained.

It was true, for quite some time I was following  the developments in quantum Mechanics. I know he can overhear it from any distance. But to what extent he can understand the principles which even very brilliant scientists are unable to decipher in full?.

"You see it is very high level physics. I am yet to understand it". I wanted to escape from  his questions.

He was not ready to leave me that easily 

"I am not asking you about principles of physics. But you see what I do also can be interpreted using quantum theory". He said. Forcing me to look back to see. 

The number of chicken pieces he got yesterday and the day before were the same but sizes differed. (we always give him five pieces of chicken) . But he says he gets more from me than from Alice, the maid. 

Number by itself is not sufficient to give the idea of quantity involved. Now I got an idea why he said it has something to do with quantum mechanics. 

Yes the numbers by itself have no meaning unless all the counted have of the same attributes. But how to get such a homogenous group? 

"If you have a large quantity of  food first divide it based on size of pieces. Then into groups of equal size depending the number of days it is to last.Ta. So that every day equal quantity is available" Said Husky

But quantum mechanics?. I silently left, thinking about it. He did not bother to burden me further. 

To me our number system always appeared with out head and/ or even tail. And in the case of negative numbers they do not have any sense in most cases, like age or volume. But numbers are meant for giving a measure. 

So it was Husky's argument that one must have a count of total quantity available. Before numbering. If not possible due to differences, regroup the entire quantity taking equal ones. 

Negative numbers and infinity actually limit the Genuineness  of the present number system.  If more the accuracy in equality is required more the numbers can be created. But we have to limit all the numbers between 0 and 1. The total quantity available being 1.   Say. 01, . 02, . 03.......if you divide the total quantity into 100.The equality depends only on the accuracy you want in Measuring. Or in other words as far as we are concerned all the pieces will have same size. 

I think the disagreement between general theory of relativity and quantum mechanics can be due to this. And they may become more....Of course my dog and I, we both do not have any knowledge of the high level mathematical tools they use now a days to study it. 

I told husky the position we are in. He is very much aware of it. He is still hopeful of getting some recognition for  the merit of his theory. 

He said in case someone offers us any prize we have to ask them to send it in two equal haves. If it is big we would like the prize to be send to the people of Ukraine. 

I told him dogs are not usually eligible for such prizes

Husky said he has no objections he just wants to ascertain the supremacy of dogs over cats. 

THE TRIP THROUGH THE NIGHT

THE TRIP THROUGH THE NIGHT

The afternoon was rather cold for the season. The winds, which heralded the change  of season, though not strong, made howling sounds while passing through the tips of tall silver oaks. It could become stronger towards the nightfall rattling the tin sheets roofs of houses and chilling the people inside. 

The roads and fields were deserted. Saturdays were half working days. In the afternoon most of the estate workers choose to remain at home attending to their personal needs or sleeping. 

We had planned the trip for earlier - before noon. But my father came late from the office and was not in a good mood. Something my mother said in the morning did not go well with him. So we started out on our motorcycle without taking lunch. We knew it was late, but the urge to complete the work we planned dragged us to Vattavada some 10 miles away.

On the way my father stopped the motorcycle and drank water from a stream not far from home. I felt bad. I could have run home and got good water for him. But he said it was ok.

Our intention was to meet a Government official at Vattavada. We were able to meet him. But our business took longer than we thought and  delayed our return. There was a lot of persuasion from my father's friends to stay back for the night.  The danger from wild elephants was too high in those days. According to them few herds and  loners were camping  in the nearby forests. It included the dreaded loner, "Kolli" the lightning. The loner was notorious for his speed and destructive power, still we decided to return home with out delay. The resolve in us was so strong that we started out immediately.

We had hardly covered some five miles, the motorcycle broke down. It stopped all of a sudden and refused to start. It was tough to make a choice between the two alternatives we had, to go back or go ahead. Both were equally risky.We decided to go forward taking the shortest route which involved climbing the hill we avoided while coming by the motorcycle.

The climb took more time than we thought. Near the summit we came across some dry twigs on smothered grass.To me they looked as if some large animal was resting over them. The thought of Kolli sent a chill down my spine. But my father pointed out the possibility of someone taking rest, putting down the firewood he collected. Anyway we abandoned our plan to gather the twigs. We had a match box with half full of sticks with us. We knew the matchsticks were not of much use unless we had something like dry twigs. But there was little time to lose. By the time we reached the summit, from where the tea plantation started, it was almost dark.

We hurried  down the hill, to make use of the light available, but soon it was dark. We could hardly see the road in front. Our talks became less frequent and less loud. We could hear the noises of the forest clearly. In forest everything that is silent during the day makes a lot of sound in darkness. I lighted a matchstick, it was of no use. It only blinded me for a few seconds. Again a chill ran down my spine. I could feel the shivering in my voice.

My father took off his coat and put it over my shoulder. I handed it back whispering that I am wearing a sweater beneath my shirt. He did not reply, giving me a feeling that he is  listening to some thing.

Then the wind direction changed. It blew full blast on our faces. With the  wind came there stench of animals and shouting of people and the sound of beating tins. There was no need to guess. The elephant. "Oh my God Not Kolli" I prayed.  

We stopped walking and listened. Suddenly, it was all silent . But the smell remained strong. I felt my father's hand on my shoulder, strong and restraining. We stood still for a while, I  had lost all the sense of time. Then I felt my father's hand clenching. Suddenly I became aware of the vibration of earth. He pushed me down the slope on the side of the road into the tea plants. The tea plants were pruned recently. The sharp ends of the branches scratched my body, tearing my clothes. I felt no pain. But. I could feel the urgency in the pressure of the hands on my shoulders. We went down the slope fast till we reached a large rock. We went around it and stooped behind it.

The noise on the road stopped suddenly. Then it became hell broke loose. He was attacking something, in between there were breaks accompanied with trumpets. He was celebrating his victory over his adversary. It continued for a while.We had no idea how long it was. Then the sounds became less frequent and then stopped. But the heavy breathing told he is still not far from us. After one more trumpet of victory he moved on. We still waited for a long time. The stench and his footsteps became faint and died out. Still we did not dare to talk. Stooping we moved through the tea just like small animals on their fours till we saw the electric lights of the factory and a faint light we knew was our house. It seemed it took a long time to reach the road leading to the factory. 

As soon as we reached our house, we had a short hot shower and went to bed. We did not tell anybody about the motorcycle or the attack. We had decided to go early in the morning to get the motorcycle. 

We got up early before anyone and retraced our night's route. We reached the place of attack soon. We could easily recognise the spot. My father's coat was shredded into strips. Hanging on the tea plants the strips told us the intensity of last night's violance. We collected the strips and rolled it into a bundle and hurried to the motorcycle. It started without difficulty.

On our way back we stopped at the stream.

Father tucked the coat below a rock in the stream. "Yes it saved us but we cannot take it along with us" he paused for an instant.

"It was readily available because you handed it back and that gave me the idea" he stopped. He was expecting my view on the situation.

"The  matches were of no use, the light of it only blinded us" I said. He did not reply.

Walking back to the motorcycle I felt his hand on my shoulder again. I think he was telling me "You are correct unless it falls on things around you the light in hand will only blind you".

The Lone Tree

Surely the scribe was unaware of the stories behind the name of the estate, otherwise how could one call the Lone Tree estate  laundry Estate?

Once I happened to  read about slow meter becoming slow in 4M. It turned out to be about delay in getting flow meter for the water supply scheme. The scribe definitely had not heard about flow meters.  But even then flow meter becoming slow is unimaginable.  I really enjoyed it as a joke. But calling  the Lone Tree Estate Laundry Estate.. is cruel. Especially for those who have heard the story behind the name.

Lone Tree estate's story always made me think of the people who emotionaly equate trees to human beings .

The mount and the grass land around had no trees, though the surrounding hills were thickly forested  in those days. The hill tribes who worshipped nature had a small temple made of uncut stones on the mount. There were no regular poojaa or prayers. The deity, a goddess, was said to be the mentor of trees and birds of the forest.

During summer rains the grass land got flooded but remained green rest of the year. The mount usually became dry during winter when nights were cold and days were hot. It led to the wild fires in summer.

The ascetic who planted two trees of a very rare variety, on the mount (said to be male and female) was hopeful of large flocks of birds nesting on them. He cared for them much, watering in summer and clearing the dry grass around to protect the young trees from wild fire. The trees grew fast accompanied with bushes and shrubs. They continued to be the only trees on the Mount. 

The young trees appeared to be in love. Many said they could hear them talking and singing during silent winter nights.

The talking trees flowered. Their first fruits attracted many birds. That year the tribals celebrated fastival of the godess after a long time. They cleared the bushes around and danced around the trees at night.

The lighting was sent by the goddess of the forest. She could not stand the.  ** young trees in love. When she watched the way people celiberated the festival around the trees she couldn't control herself.

The entire loss due to lightening was borne by the taller tree. The tribals waited for the rains to Bring it back to life. But the rains were delayed. The ascetic brought water from a stream way down to the tree for many days but he could not bring it back to life. He died trying to revive the tree.

Lone Tree grew taller, but with lesser branches and leaves and was silent in the winds. May be there was none to hear. The flowers also became scarce as no one was there to offer to. With no shade the bushes withered only grass returned in rains. No birds came  because of no fruits.

Th estates opened. Many joined as labour from the plains. They brought their own gods and goddesses with them. Slowly the tribals too joined them. 

O'Hara was a botanist from England came to study the plants of the western ghats. His friend who planted tea estate  near the mount  invited him to his estate. O'Hara was much impressed by rare tree  on the mount. He noted that there were no other trees of the species around. He liked the place and decided to settle down, planted tea in the hills and valleys  around. But the Mount with the lone tree was left alone. He had his own plans for the Mount.

On completion of the planting he went abroad on  long leave, searched the libraries, located similar trees and collected  seeds. In his last letter to his friend he said he was anxious to get back and plant the seeds. But he never came. An accident took his life.

His friend named the new estate Lone Tree Estate. Though the estate changed hands many times it's name remained the same 

The tribal people believed the lone tree is waiting for O'Hara to return with his mate. They say at night of the festival of the mount, which they stopped celebrating, they could hear the tree whistling the old melody.

The social distance between Chuppan and me

No one, now a days, identifies the sharp turn of the road before  Munnar Market by its given name - Subbans. May be the place is too small to have a name. But website of the town administration says it's office is at Subbans. 

Recently  I went to the office to get a certificate. It was  8 in morning, most of the estate workers had left for their work and the shops were yet to open. So I asked one on the road for directions to Subbans. The cleaning worker seemed to hear it for the first time. I did not want to bother him futher, so asked for the local body office. He gave me a precise direction and added that the office was yet to open, but  as usual, Ayya,  the official incharge, is very much there.

My cousin, while asking, me  to collect a certificate on his behalf, from the office had told me that the official who was to issue it, was about to retire and  had promised to issue the certificate before he retired.  But I never imagined it was his last day at work. I felt guilty when I saw the large number of files waiting on the table in front of him. I told him I am sorry to bother him futher when so many files are there to deal with and offered to collect the certificate later.

'It is ok. It is ready. Let me finish this one' He said looking back into the file infront of him. And I looked around to do something that may not disturb him.

It was then I found the photo on the wall. Yes, it was Chuppan!

It may not be correct just to say he was known to me. Because I used to spend some time with him almost every morning of my childhood days.

Mr Shanmugham the officer was very much  in mood to talk about the man in the photo.
"Do you know him ?" He said inviting me to the chair in front of him with his hand

"Yes. very well" I said. But it seems my face conveyed  more than my words. Every morning sharp at eight the sound of Chuppen sweeping the Irish drains around our house brought me out of the house. Chuppen in clean Khaki shirt and shorts with the long broom in a hand used to salam me. I promptly acknowledged with my hand raised and shouting "salaam"

" Please don't come near" He used to caution me as soon as I reached ' the social distance'. Yes, he was very particular about the social distance to be kept between us. I had to keep the distance even if he is not working. I remember the nearest I reached was at the tea ceremony that was performed at the unbarred window of the kitchen every day. After his work  he  used to clean himself and present at the window, but a few feet away. The maid servant brought the pot full of tea and kept on the window cill. It was my turn then to bring the jar of 'chakkarai' (jagari) and select one or two pieces of Chakkarai as directed by Chuppen and keep on a piece of paper I had ready with me. I used to ask why not mix it with tea. According to him the sweetness drowns the taste of tea. If  present, my  mother used to offer more tea. Any quantity of tea was welcome.

M

The Tamil film song 'paalum pazhavum kaikalil' was his favourite. When ever the song was played in radio I used to run to him and anounce it. He came to the door, I kept wide open.

"Oh Ayya was in Ellapetti estate in those days"(referring to my father). Shanmugham's   words brought me back to present.

I told him about my meeting Chuppan years afterwards at the market. It was a long time after my father retired from the estate and settled at our native town .

We, two of my college friends and me, were at Munnar market.

I heared the salam from a distance which took me back to my younger days.  I returned the salute.  He  was in deep bluish black pants and shirt.  His black gumboots were clean and shining. He had not changed- only his uniform. He looked taller in pants and gum boots. He inquired about the well being of my parents and about my brothers. I was amazed, he remembered even their names correctly. 

Something about his manners told me that he had some request to me in private. I waived at my friends to go on while Chuppan smiled at them. It was then the tea ceremony restarted after a gap of more than a decade. A boy appeared with a jug of tea and a steel tumbler from the nearby tea stall and kept on a raised platform near us. Chuppen produced a small packet and a piece of clean paper from his poket and moved away - the social distance. I knew what I was expected to do. I selected two pieces of Chakkarai from the packet and kept on the white paper. There was a spec of approval in his eyes. I moved away. I could read the times of my childhood in his face. The rare smile on his face  told me that he too cherished those memories.

.

On return from Munnar I told my parents about my meeting Chuppan  My father was glad that his sincerity was  recognised   by the company.  My mother was inquisitive about Chuppan and Santhi, one of our maids, she asked whether he said anything about Santhi, the maid. It was then I learned the best kept secret of chuppan, Santhi was his sister! He had entrusted her to my mother so that no one knew that they are siblings. But I was aware of some relationship between them. I tried to compare them from my memory.

What I remembered was his eyes. One of his eyes had no black iris, instead a slight grey shade in the middle. He had lost his father and sight of one of is eyes to small pox in his childhood. ₹₹₹₹

His father belonged an upper cast family and was married to a woman of  a lower cast. Hi7s elder sister's Marriage in to a lower cast brought bitter enimocity from his father's relatives again.  An attack  on her forced his mother to escape from their village with her two children. 

Came to Munnar and got employed as worker though she was educated and died of an unknown disease soon after.

 Subbaiah who was sixteen at that time started as his career as a cleaner in the estate and supported his sister studying in a boarding school run by a charity for the poor. Santhi continued her studies and during vacations she doubled as our house maid.

"Will you be able to spare an hour in the evening " the words of the official brought me back to the present.

"Why not, where?" I was eager to learn more about Chuppen.

In the evening we met at room behind the office that served as his residence,. The room had all the looks of a hotel room about to be vacated. Mr. Shanmugam was all set to leave Munnar. He was very vocal about Munnar and the days Ellapetty Subbaiah  kept the town spec and tidy.  My friend Chuppen was Subbaiya to him as inscribed in the brass plate below the photo.  The name of the estate Ellapetty where he worked prior to joining Munnar town was added to distinguish him from many others of the same name in the town.

The company was much impressed by his work, they appointed him as supervisor to oversee the cleaning  of entire Munnar town and was provided with a quarter at the heart of Munnar. During his entire remaing service Chuppan stayed at the house. On retirement the quarters in which he stayed was given to him as a gift by the company.

It was at that time the State government decided to constitute a local administration for Munnar.The election to the local body was conducted. It was at the popular request Chuppen agreed to contest in the election. He was elected unopposed and became the president of the local administration. Subbaiah (his name Chuppen was forgotten in a short time) was able to make a lot of improvement in the town. Aminities for public were improved considerably. The beatification of govt buildings, roads taken up were much appreciated by all.

Inspite of all good deeds there were a few who wanted to spoil. They brought up a controversy regarding his cast. The president's position was reserved for elected lower cast persons.  The way he reads and writes indicated that Subbaiah was educated. In those days no one from lower caste was educated

So they reported to govt the allegation that belonged to upper cast and so not eligible for the position The government saught the company's records and views..

The the general managers stand was categorical. Company had no record of his parents or his marriage. He was working independently for the company  (not under any Kankani head man). and has been doing the manual cleaning buildings of the company till he was appointed as a supervisor. Clearly  the company had considered him to be a member of the lower cast, as upper class refuse to do such work, though the company does not segregate workers by cast.

The Government accepted the company's statement and allowed. But Subbaiah resigned from the position. He donated the house to the local body and left for his native village in the plains.

The house was converted to office of the local body. Subsequently a new office building was constructed there.

I looked at the portrait again. Yes there were both the years after his name  SUBBAIAH ELLAPETTI on the brass plate below. 

The day of the "We Too"

THE DAY OF THE WETOO

I think, in these days, while every male is afraid someone from his past will make his life miserable saying “ me too“, the ladies are getting bored because of the numerous unbelievable “me too” stories. With too many “me too” stories around I thought you would enjoy a “wetoo” story from my past for a change.

“Sir…Sir..” I looked back hearing Thirumeni calling me in distress. My colleague Narayanan being a nice simple man, was addressed by everyone as Thirumeni, a term used for respectable high caste Brahmins of Kerala in old days.
It was only a few minutes back we parted after the long train journey. Being past midnight the railway station was almost deserted. Thirumeni had a bundle of files with him and me a small briefcase. He wanted to eat something before going home as he did not want to disturb his old mother and I wanted to get home without much delay. So we parted though we had to go by the same route.
There were no cabs or autos at the porch, so after a few minutes I decided to  walk towards the market junction nearby. It was then I heard Thirumeni.

I saw Thirumeni in the midst of a small crowd of men and a lady, who looked familiar from the distance.Two of the crowd were shouting at Thirumeni while the lady was uttering something in low voice.

“Just ten rupees?. Are you not ashamed?” one man shouted.

“Just ten rupees for spending the entire night with you. Poor creature, give her 500 at least” shouted the other.

I walked towards them. I had an inkling what was happening. So I watched the persons while walking. Something about the  shouting young man was familiar. So on reaching I told him loudly “I know you somewhere”. There was a pause. He stared at me.

There was something of a sort of recognition in his stare and I became more confident that he is crumbling. The lady  stopped grumbling. She was in the train asking for alms. At that time she was looking more pathetic. Thirumeni was ready to give her some money but my outright refusal to her prevented him from doing it.

The older man became less threatening and seemed ready to escape from the scene.I looked around. There was a police man at the gate a bit away. But he appeared to be in no “mood to interfere. “Sir” I shouted aloud and waived.

I told him that we are on duty and were travelling together till a few minutes back and have the tickets with me to prove it. The files are  very important I added authoritatively. The constable was convinced and looked at the woman and her accomplices. They had become very subdued. The police constable requested us  to the police help desk away from the crowd and asked the three to follow. The older offered to carry the bundle of files which Thirumeni reluctantly accepted with my concurrence.

It was then I felt a hand on mine. I looked back. It was the younger one.

He had a pathetic look on his face. “Sir, I am the old Kuruvilla, of the boarding…… rubber band”

His words took me back to my boarding school days. Yes kuruvilla of those days was a unforgettable character. He was junior to me.He gained our attention by reading the songs of solomon and nothing else for the entire time allotted for Bible reading, but lost his popularity on the doubt that he was a spy of the boarding master. His frequent sleeping during the study time was noticed by many. He being next to me at the table I used to wake him up when the boarding master came to check. One day the rubber band in front of him gave me an idea. I twisted it till it became a short spiral. I just put it inside his shirt. The spiral uncoiling inside gave the sensation of a wriggling insect. Alarmed Kuruvilla Jumped up crying loud. All rushed to him and removed his shirt only to find the rubber band inside. I think he was able to decipher what caused it. But he did not complain and I escaped punishment.

Theconstable was not at all interested in recording the crime. As thirumeni didn't lose anything he was of the opinion that there is nothing to gain by doing so. I could have insisted but the look of Kuruvilla and the memory of the rubber band made me decide against it.

The police man was glad I did not. More so because Kuruvilla was on suspension from railway service for something not serious and was known to him. He and the police man accompanied us to the porch.

A taxi appeared from nowhere.

In the taxi Thirumeni expressed his feelings for the woman. “May be the men compelled her to beg” he could not find fault with her.

“She was involved in a murder case and came out of jail only a few weeks ago”. Taxi driver said  without looking back.

I remembered the frequent quote from Esdras “Yea, many there be that have  run out of their wits for women, and become servants for their sake. Many have perished, have erred, and sinned for women…O ye men, how can it be but women should be strong, seeing they do thus? “

“Thirumeni is not married. His stars are still searching for a match” I told the driver. He looked back smiling. “They will soon find a good Thamburatty (damsel)  for him’. He assured us in a light vain.

Within a few months I received a marriage invitation. Yes it was thirumeni’s!

I think it is dangerous to have different sets of rules for man and woman.They are equally good and equally corrupt, equally strong and equally weak and one cannot exist without the other (at least till they start cloning ).
So this 'we too' story.

THE CAT OF COROME

THE CAT OF KOROM

In those days KOROM  was a cluster of some 30 small buildings on either sides of the road to Niravilpuzha river. The road with many potholes was not surfaced. There was hardly any traffic on the road as it was the end of it with no bridge to cross the river. The buildings, mostly houses except one or two shops, were almost identical,and  were painted in different shades of green. Huddled together and with no traffic to hinder the houses formed a close knit community.

There was no power supply and no TV or other intruder gadgets to disturb  them.

The house we stayed was the last one on the row. Our immediate neighbor was an old lady whom everybody called Hajjumma. (Hajj mother) and we too followed it.

When we heard  Haj Umma first through the window “Kelappa bemees undo?” (have any beans Kelappa ?) we thought we had overhead a private conversation. Soon we realised there was nothing  private about her request to Kelappen, as many such requests and offers from both followed. Kelappen an young government servant, was one of her tenants who used to cultivate ganja (cannabis) in her kitchen garden. If we heard her saying “Mullan vannittundu” (mullan - a type of small fish- is on sale) it is an announcement for all (ladies and gents) in the neighbourhood.

Many household vessels and equipments  going around or agriculture tools available on request did not have  definite owners. That included the only mousetrap in the neighbourhood.

But what impressed me most was the service of the  only cat of the locality.

One day when I detected the presence of mouse in the house I asked Abdulla how to get the mousetrap. He just asked the nextdoor lady and with in a few minutes it arrived at our door.

The trap was set with a mullen as the bait. We were successful in trapping the enemy, but how to get rid of it ?.  Abdullah said “It is easy just take the trap outside and knock the side of it, the cat will come and catch it”.Seeing my disbelief, Abdullah took the trap to the road in front of the house and knocked the side of it with a stone. Within a few seconds a large brown cat appeared on the other side of the road watching me with his curious eyes. Abdullah opened the trap and the mouse jumped out to freedom for a moment. Then there was a flash of brown and both the cat and the mouse disappeared. It was a mystery how he was able to appear so fast. (The only possibility  I could imagine was the cat was constantly tracking the movement of the mouse trap). Of course you may ask if the cat overheard our discussion.

I couldn't to continue my association with the community for long due to a transfer. It was some 15 years afterwards I met Abdulla again.

He was not staying in Korome anymore.

Lot of changes that the electricity and the bridge over Niravilpuzha brought , along with the many TV's and cars and  bikes evicted many from Korome.

He moved to a nearby house with a compound around. Hajjumma went to live with her brother in town away from Korome. Kelappen reluctantly left when his small ganja ( cannabis) garden  became a hot topic.

I could not resist asking about the cat of Korome.

Abdulla smiled.A few years after my leaving Korome one fine morning four kittens looking just like the Cat of Korome appeared in response to the knocks on the mouse trap.  The dupli -cats’ ,as they were known along with their mother took over the gamekeeping of Korome

By that time the bridge was completed and Buses started playing, new shops and small restaurants changed the face of Korome Blaring TV serials and decorative lamps ushered in a new way of life.And the dupli-cats got engaged in many activities other than attending to the knocks on the trap.

But all the new facilities will  never be able to bring back the smooth functioning and coordination the Cat Of Korome once  represented -- Abdullah ascertained.

KUDU KUDU PANDI ON THE BRIDGE

KUDU KUDU PANDI ON THE BRIDGE

It is raining. For the last two months we have rains everyday. We enjoy it. And there were hardly any mishaps due to rains. And no one talks about the rain. You may call it silent rains.

Last year it was different.The flood in Bihar was unprecedented. Hundreds lost their lives in some 16 districts affected by the deluge. Three from a family lost their lives when the bridge they were crossing washed away, the online news said enclosing a video of the incident. The mother and two kids were just a step short to the safety of the other end.

When ever I read about bridges being washed away I remember Kudukudu pandi.

KUDU KUDU PANDI

The man  raised his hand signalling us to stop the car. He was tall and well built. In white shirt and dhoti he was visible from far though it was getting dark. There was no one else on the road may be due to the chilling weather. He said salam raising his hand again and my father responded saying salam. The bridge is under repair he informed. It is safer to take alternate route he advised. My father thought for a moment and  then thanked him for the information but explained being in a  hurry he wanted to see if he could negotiate it somehow. The man followed us to the bridge. My father got out and walked to the bridge  My brother and I followed while our mother with my kid brother waited in the car

There were no boards indicating the condition of the bridge. It seemed the tractors were detoured through a new muddy track and crossed the stream where it was shallow. My father had a good look at the bridge. Many of its planks were missing but the girders appeared to be intact. So he decided to negotiate the bridge.

The tall man requested my mother to come out and asked us to follow him while father made some mental calculations looking at the car and the bridge alternately.

At the stream the man in white waited for us to go ahead and followed us closely. We removed our footwear and waded in to to the stream. The water was chilling the stream was fast and there was water up to my knee.  I had rolled up my shorts  expecting more .

We heard the car starting up I wanted to look at it but the man hurried us. It was then the loud noise of planks cracking reached us. I turned my head lost balance. The strong hand took hold of me before my body touched the water. By the time I became aware of what was happening I was placed on the other bank by the strong hands and I saw our car roaring at the other end of the bridge

He said something in a language not known to me but I think he was thanking god.

My father wanted to offer him some money but he had already crossed the stream and continuing his journey.

The early next morning we learned the  bridge was washed away at night. My mother was all praise for the stranger for saving us from a mishap. While my father had different opinion.

It was a few weeks after wards  I heard ‘Kudu kudu kudu’ at the front door. the sound was not familiar. So I looked through the window.There he was tall and in white cloths.

“Nallakalam varuthamma Nalla kalam”. (Good days ahead Madam Good days) he said and made the loud  Kudu Kudu sound with a small instrument. It resembled a small can wth strikers attached with string on both sides. He waved the drum  twisting wrist and  the strikers beat on the drumheads making loud sound. Kudu Kudu Kudu……. making me terribly afraid.

My mother went inside and came back with a big heap of rice in her hands. Looked at the rice and spread one end of his long white  shoulder cloth to receive it. There were other bundles which were smaller  on the other end. He arranged the cloth around his neck. The big mustache and the ashes on his forehead were exactly like the image, of people kidnapping  small children, in my mind.

Next time he came he had a thin spear pierced through his chins. No chanting only the Kudu kudu.

His visits were rare At times had small limes at the ends of the spear.

But the thing that   comes to my mind when I think of him, is the bridge that washed away

ON THE BRIDGE

I loved bridges very much.

One of the best things I remember about Munnar High School was the number of bridges nearby, especially the hanging bridges. They were meant for walking.

The steel bridges that allowed cars and lorries one at a time were narrow. People were very patient and courteous in those days and they waited patiently for oncoming vehicles to pass. Invariably they received a Salam from the driver and many times a wishing from the other occupants

The hanging bridges allowed only single line on both the direction. It was really a pleasure to cross it. In the middle where the swing of the bridge was maximum it offered a feeling of flying if you look down at the rushing water below. In the initial days I used to finish my lunch lunch at the earliest and run to the nearest hanging bridge.There used be no one else on the bridge at that time. But the difficulty if any one rocks you may lose balance if not careful.

The caves of the tribals on the hills across the river.was something I wanted to see very much. One Friday at lunch break (which was longer) I decided to run up the hill.

No one to come with me. They were interested in games only.

I had to run really fast to reach the caves up the hill and return in time. But the hill was steeper than expected forcing me to slow down. On return  I ran faster and did not slow down on the hanging bridge. It was at half way I noticed the man coming from the other end.

The pandi

The thin spear with lemons on either ends was not there. But the white cloths and ashes on his forehead, there as no chance of mistaking. With the large bundle on his head he almost  lost his balance.

I ran back and waited. Instead of Nallakalam the image of kidnappers appeared in my brain. I was frozen with fear

I felt a hand on my head

“Son now you run. I too used to run like this when I was a kid”.

I went back to the online report. This time I carefully  searched the faces of the onlookers in the video. There were no Kudukudu pandi among them

Doesn't any gudugudu pandi live in our country anymore. So sad anyway.