April 29, 2012
Continental Bookstore opened their renovated store near Overbridge last week. I went to check it out this afternoon. They have lost their uniqueness and now look just like any other big city book store.
The shop is located in the lane that leads to the old Sreekanteswaram Temple across from the SMV High School. An old home right next to that temple called Kovil Vila has now been upgraded to Kovil Vila Bhagavathi Temple. The temples were closed in the afternoon.
The new temple sports an enlarged replica of one of the mural paintings found inside the sanctum area of Padmanabha Swami temple. With its shiny golden colored door, lock and finial, the brand new goddess temple looks well on its way to having a road-blocking, crowded 'Pongala' festival attracting female devotees soon.
Having a traffic blocking, city block smoking Pongala festival is now the status establishment symbol of the goddesses. The one at Attukal still rules supreme but she does have some smoking hot competition in the city and its outskirts.
Since Continental store had no Malayalam section and I had been wanting to check out other books by Velayudhan Panikkasseri after reading his informative and expansive "Kerala Charithrathinte Ullarakal" (Inner rooms of Kerala history, more detailed notes on that book later), I walked to DC bookstore.
The half a dozen bookstores en-route were closed. I wonder when Thiruvananthapuram will become a city that stays open on Sunday. Not that I want it. I wouldn't like her becoming just another beast who swallows my identity and spits out my insignificance at every crowded street like Mumbai does effortlessly.
After spending an hour inside DC books, I left with the purchase of Dr. Sreedhara Menon's "Kerala Charitrashilpikal" (Movers and Shakers of Kerala history). As it must have dawned on anyone keeping track, I have been busy making up for the centralised ICSE syllabus I had in school which has left me a big zero when it comes to Kerala. When it comes to national and international history, my radius is much smaller.
I got into the East Fort- Aruvikkara bus to get back home from Statue Junction and the main story begins.Even before sitting down, I noticed a rather vocal old man, seated three rows ahead on the other side. He was in a forceful argument with the similarly aged man seated behind him. The smell of Indian made foreign liquor hanging in the air received a new punch of life with every point he made.
The argument was monetary. Alcohol has the same effect that it has on sex on money matters as well. Small appears big. Details garner obsession. The belief that lies lied louder become truth grows stronger.
"Nooru rupayalle njan koduthathu," (Didn't I give him Rs. 100?!) the man, who resembled Malayalam writer Unnikrishnan Puthoor (google if you haven't already created a mental image) repeated the umpteenth time. He then repeated the story of how he had been paid Rs. 100 for some work earlier in the day.
He was emotional about being wronged. In two ways.First, the contractor at the site where he was a day laborer paid him a rate different than the younger immigrant from Bengal. "Enthonnu hamara tumhara, Phaaa!" (What ours and yours, Phaa) he cursed after imitating the contractor's Hindi.
And now, the conductor had wronged him by not paying back the correct change for his ticket.
The conductor, a man in his late twenties, with well oiled hair and a red kumkum streak across his dark, glistening forehead was getting impatient. He was pretty sure he gave the man the right amount of money. When we reached Palayam, the man was warned.
"Ini ningal bahalam vacha, ningale ivide irakki vidum. ningale kondu vandi ini pokula, ketto?" (If you continue the ruckus, you will be thrown out. the bus won't go any further with you, understood?) warned the conductor.
"Pinne," (Really?) pooh poohed the drunk, "nee enne irakkanum ponila, vandi pokanum ponila, kanam" (You won't throw me out and the bus won't go without me. We'll see)
More and more passengers were growing restless. Especially the ones who were accompanied by ladies. After the bus turned towards Vellayambalam at RamRao lamp, the old man leaned out of the window and started abusing invisible gods of fortune.
Several abusive Malayalam words beginning with 'Ma', 'Tha' and 'Pu' were invoked. More shifting in the seats by the gentlemen with the ladies. "Iyale irikivitte," (Make him get down) couple of them said. Plenty more head bobbed in agreement.
As we stopped at the Museum traffic light, the conductor consulted the driver who immediately pulled the bus over close to the Museum Police Station which is right by the road side.
The Inspector who had given a lecture about traffic safety at our residents association function was standing outside the station. So were a few constables, couple of them in uniform, rest in 'mufti'.
Seeing the conductor get down and talk to the inspector, the old drunk fell silent.
"Ini ningal ivide randu divasam kidanittu vareen" (You can come after staying at the station for two days) joked the man sitting behind.
"Athinu njan onnum cheythillalo," (But I didn't do anything) the man protested weakily.
One of the officers in plain clothes(i.e. mufti) glared at the man. It looked as if that officer had been itching to beat someone up. A constable in uniform got into the bus to get the man down."Njan vannolam" (I will come myself) said the man getting up. As soon as he got down, two policemen caught his arms.
Suddenly the man sitting in the seat behind his shouted, "ithaa, ivide oru irupathu roopa." (Look, there are twenty rupees here). Two currency notes of ten rupees were lying on the floor under drunk's seat. The root cause of his misery. He was given the money through the bus window before he was marched into the station. He looked like he had done the marching several times before. The bus left.
I hope he will be let off with a warning. A recent economic survey stated that Rs. 66.50 per day was needed per capita to be above the poverty line. 65% of the Indian population fall below this line. Government has fixed a much lower, ridiculous limit of Rs. 35, so that the country statistically looks better off.
There are millions and millions of Indians for whom Rs. 20 matters a lot. And alcohol is a very serious problem among them, especially in Kerala. As a part of India races into more luxury, into more consumption of silk and gold and Akshaya Thritiya, fairing itself to Caucasian standards with the latest new skin cream, debating the virtues of Android over iPhone, there is a bigger, dirtier, browner India that is drowning itself in alcohol and gets thrown out of buses. Around 120 years ago, a sober young man was thrown out of train in South Africa that set off a chain of incidents that has ultimately given Indians the right to throw a fellow citizen out of a local bus.
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