Black and white: October 2010

“Annaiya! Annaiya! Haal kardaitu. Iga yen madli?”
(“Brother! Brother! I finished milking the cows. Now what shall I do?”)
“Snana madu. Nagappan devasthanakke hogona.”
(“Take a bath. Let’s go to the Snake temple.”)

* * * *
That was years ago but looking at this tribal mask in front of me, my mind refused to get away from that memory-a memory I was desperate to forget, to erase off my mind. These very thoughts spoilt my monthly trips to @Home, a chic home décor boutique in Bangalore.

“Mommy!”
Shruti and Krish.
I had to adopt them when I was only 26. I love them but I remain (mostly) confused about how to bring them up. When time and again the same questions pester my mind, I am reminded that there have always been two choices- either the past or the present. Never mind all this. How are you to make sense of my story when I haven’t told you anything about Sudhamanad and my life there?

Sudhamanad! Sudhamanad…
All I have to do is say the name and a million memories would tumble and roll in my head. This would make me slightly dizzy as I was suddenly thrown off balance by the weight of it. Moreover, I was never allowed to withdraw a single memory from that lot. I could only feel the melancholy and after a few minutes, the guilt- the guilt of abandoning my people and denying them a place in “my past”. The guilt would always, invariably come but more than often, I would openly invite it. I would dowse myself in the guilt- enjoy it, celebrate it even. Maybe it made me feel like I’d paid the price or that I’d been punished (and rightly so) for the ‘sin’ I had committed.

The ‘Sin’? A big one! It’s the sin of lying about the past not only to myself but also my children. Yes. I am ashamed of it but the past is too complex for me to handle. What do I tell my children? That I received them as a gift from the neighbors?! Sigh! Regardless of how ridiculous it sounds, to the best of my knowledge, it remains a fact.

In Sudhamanad, there is the festival of the Gungutla (the childless). During the first week of spring, when champa starts to blossom, all the childless women of the tribe would gather around the imli (tamarind) trees. The childless women along with their men would stand at the centre and the other women (who would give away their new born as a gift to the deserving) along with their husbands would make the outer circle. The moment the sun rose, the eldest couple of the tribe would drink a glass of goat’s milk announcing the start of the festival. The men in the centre of the circle had to climb the trees and grab as many imlis as possible. Their wives at the bottom were in charge of grounding the imlis into a paste. The couple that had the largest quantity of the ground imli would get the chance to pick a baby of their choice. They would then name the child in the presence of its birth mother and father, the eldest couple and the members of the tribe. This naming ceremony marked the end of the ritual. There would be other added attractions too – tree climbing competitions, flame blowers, drum beaters etcetera.

Annaya always won the tree climbing competitions. There was not a faster climber than him in our or the next seven villages. So, years later, when he participated along with his wife (akka), no one doubted their chance to a win. That is how they received my Krish and Shruti. Three years later, akka passed away and the children were left in my care.

* * * *

Long ago in 1990, when I was 15, the Indian government released their new economic policy – liberalization, privatization and globalization. Under this economic model, they also launched a very ambitious project of achieving 100% literacy rate by 1995. My village – Sudhamanad was covered under this project and all my classmates were given scholarships to attend an English medium government school in a nearby town - Mangalore.

Annaya let me go as he believed in the cause of the State. But many of my friends did not turn up. Their parents believed that a sound knowledge of the forest we lived in was enough to ensure them a good life.

* * * *

Mangalore was completely different to how I had imagined it. I felt I was on alien land – there were those weird clothed people, the funny looking vehicles and their language… It was just … strange! As soon as I came I wanted to leave - no, run! But I thought of Annaya and mustered the courage to stay.

In the following months I realized that I had more pressing problems to take care of. People were giving me funny looks. My classmates were always noticing my acche (tattoo) of Nagappa, they constantly smelled my hair, they knew it just as well as I did that I could not speak their language and they always cast their escalator eyes on the way I had dressed. Then, they started nagging me – asking me where I had got that special perfume of mine. Their laughter often drowned my feeble replies. When I asked my teacher (with a choked voice nonetheless) what I could do about it, she would flatly say that I should stop wearing saris and instead wear pants and school shirts. So, I changed. I wore what they wanted me to wear, I left my hair open – just the way they liked it and pretty soon I learned to speak their language. Needless to say, I stopped wearing my anklets, nose rings and toe rings. Whenever I looked in the mirror, I would be shocked to see how much I resembled them but it only made me proud - my chest would swell, even if, just a little bit. So I came to hide every thing that lay within me – the caves, forests, animals, rituals and my people. From something I had to do consciously, it slowly became a habit and very soon a way of life for me.

* * * *

As a part of his school assignment, Krish was asked to cook his “traditional” food. When he had came home asking help for the same, that feeling of dizziness, of being thrown off balance had returned to me. I would feel the same when Shruti asked me to buy her anklets or nose rings for her Bharatanatyam classes. I was torn- the self being suspended between the past and the present. The future always seems bleak from such a position…

* * * *

But what was my mistake? When did I make the mistake? All I wanted back then was to make sense of my reality, my surroundings.
From something I had to do consciously, it slowly became a habit and very soon a way of life for me.

Black and white

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Annaiya

Monday, October 11, 2010

In a croaking voice...