Delhi to Madras – reminiscences from the seventies

Delhi to Madras – reminiscences from the seventies​

It was in the seventies. We were in New Delhi, thanks to my father’s transferable job. New Delhi was far away from our native place which my father left in the late forties.

Though many years have gone by, memories remain, particularly the knock on the door at night 9 O’clock. At around 9 O’clock in the night we heard a knock on the door of our house. It was an army personnel who told us to switch off the lights. I came to know from my father that war was going on with Pakistan. The entire neighbourhood was on streets, all looking at the sky trying to locate our Gnats (India’s warplane).

The war was over in few days. The war gave new ideas to us kids. We used to erect the Charpai (a cot knit with jute) on one its sides, with the legs touching the wall and together with bed sheet on top, it made a beautiful tent in which to hide. Me and my brother would crouch inside that tent. We would keep firing from our toy rifles at the invisible Pakistani army, making sounds of Dushum, Dushum to make it look realistic.

Apart from the war, what attracted us was space. With the conquest of moon in 1969, the star war had begun between the US and the Soviets both trying to outdo the other in the field of space exploration. At our house, there was always atleast one SPAN or Sputnik (the magazines on the exploits on space) on the teepoy as my father was a member in the American Library and the British Council Library.

Those days Television was not there. But in our neighbourhood, we had a scholarly person, a globe trotter, a Tamilian who boasted a TV set imported from Japan. We used to go to this uncle’s house to watch the serial “Robin Hood”.

Then to my memory come the festivals - the Janmashtami, Dashera, Deepavali and Holi. On Krishna Janmashtami day, stalls would be put up in every nook and corner of the city displaying colourful exhibits with the individuals parading their talents for innovation and creativity. The exhibits used to depict scenes from mythology and some exhibits were secular too. Dashera - the count down to the tenth day was great. On nine nights, Ramayana would be played on stage. On tenth evening the effigies of Kumbakarna, Meghnath and Ravana were consigned to flame thus announcing the triumph of good over evil. Whereas Deepavali was not celebrated too differently (but for Lakshmi Pooja for the people of business class), Holi was different. Holi is a totally North Indian festival, this festival of colours is a festival of brotherhood too. Even arch rivals, many times bury their hatchet on this day. This was a festival which we really used to enjoy.

I remember those marriage processions with band playing the tunes of “Sapononkee Raani kab Aayegi tu”, one of the many famous songs from the film “Aradhana.”

Another peculiar thing which I had not come across anywhere else was this- my mother used to carry a big tin with maida, sugar and ghee to a bakery where these ingredients were blended and baked. The result was a tin full of wonderful, mouth watering biscuits. Though Colgate was the byword for tooth paste, we loved Binaca as cute little toys used to come with it. Then there was Fruity ,a chewing gum. Stickers of flags and emblems of various countries used to come in the wrappers. On collection of some number of such stickers, say twenty, if one stuck them on an A4 size paper and sent to Fruity company they would send an album with blocks for sticking stamps and flags. On completion of the task and sending the album to the company would fetch some prize. Such incentives encouraged us to cultivate philately and pen friendship as new hobbies. It vastly improved our knowledge on different countries.

There were those connections with roots, reminded by the aroma of the fresh roasted coffee nuts (which were pulverised to get coffee powder); melodious carnatic music emanating from Radio Ceylon at 10 pm; the sumptuous, traditional Tamilian lunch on Sunday with thohaiyal, onion sambar, vattha kuzhambu or mor kozhmabu, vadam, and many more and the fortnightly arrivals of Tamil magazines Kalki, Kumdam, Anandavikatan by post. There were some occasional visits to Murugan Temple in a hillock at R.K.Puram. Because of being located on a hillock it was called “malai mandir” in Tamil which became “Malaayee mandir” (“Malaayee” in Hindi means cream) when pronounced by North Indians. Of course there were my father’s Tamilian friends and some distant relatives whom we used to meet on Deepavali. My parents used take us to carnatic music recitals and discourses on Bhagavatam on rare occasions.


Cometh the summer vacation, we longed for Madras. Why that Mad rush for Madras? What was in Madras which was not in New Delhi? There was the Marina beach, the wetting of feet in the waves of Bay of Bengal, raising castles on the sand, the sundal, the Madhava Perumaal Koil street in Mylapore where my maternal grand father was residing, bathing in well water, plucking mangoes with a long bamboo stick with a short piece tied horizontally on top, the long evening hours we ( we brothers and our cousins) used to play on the sands at Kapaleeswarar temple. And oh! the journey from New Delhi to Madras by GT Express, in the later years by Tamil Nadu Express, long journey, the train speeding past the posts, green farms, pastures, the grazing cows, the buffalos bathing in ponds, the excited children from huts waving their hands, the distant hills, moon keeping company as night descended, the wonderful breeze kissing the cheeks, the peace in the stillness of the night in harmony with periodic beats of dak- dak of the wheels on the rail, the hoots from the engine every now and then, the scary darkness in the tunnels, the pounding sound when crossing the bridge, the stations, the stampede and melee for water, the changing of the ring in the stations and between passing trains, the dim lights, the voices broken by the high speeds, the clamour for window seats, the games- chess or words building, reading novels, the technical attraction of unhinging and preparing bed, the goods trains, fruits like nongu, jack fruits as enter Andra, the change in tongue – the “kaapi, kaapi” (coffee) from “Chayee” (Tea), “Garam, garam (hot) Chai”, the idlis, and dosas, finally the Basin Bridge and…. the Madras Central. Then the journey by the beach to Mylapore, in the neon lights, with the beautiful sea breeze blowing across was an unforgettable experience.


--- Suby



Epilogue:

Madras is now Chennai and is no more Madras. Officially there was no more war between India and Pakistan, though there is no peace either. Space no longer holds us in awe. The virtual games on computer keep us hooked full time. As for “Robinhood” the serial, there is no dearth of serials now a days. Television is not a luxury but has become a necessity. The song “Sapnonkee Raani” has become immortal. Toys do not come with any tooth paste any more. The Coffee grinder, which was a trade mark for the Madrasi community, has gone into oblivion. There is no Fruity, the chewing gum. With world in a web, the postal service has become redundant and so philately is almost extinct. The well in my Grand father’s house is no more there. The mango trees are no longer there. Where is place for castles in the beach? Where is the sand in Kapaleeswarar temple? How many travel by train? If so, with wires stuck to their ears and eyes glued to the mobile, how many really savour the feast of nature?

 

Thanks for the nice words. At times one really feels that modernity has robbed us of those little pleasures we used to get.

There are many more memories - childhood, school which I plan to pen down in due course which I trust you will like.

-- suby

 

I am happy that you enjoyed it. Sans these modern gadgets, one was really with nature. If you can recollect in our days at school we used to play a lot on the out door even after coming from school which kept us healthy physically whereas now a days children are glued to TV and computer games.

-- suby

 

Dear radsahana,

Thanks for educating me on the name "Nankati" which I think is a Gujarati word. Sorry for not acknowledging in my initial reply.

- love suby

 

Nice to know that you enjoyed the post. No doubt lives have become easy with modernisation and we can not mull over it. In fact change is progress. In the epilogue I tried to convey as to how much we have changed.

Thanks

- suby

 

viji madam,

Nice to know that you liked the post and nicer to share your experiences too.

- suby