Nostalgia
As I watched the rain bucketing down and the spray of water form a fine translucent mesh on our wooden decking-many thoughts flashed through my mind. I reflected on my school days, where I enjoyed the company of my friends as we gingerly walked to Mount Carmel Convent Tangasseri. We delighted ourselves jumping into those road side puddles perhaps purposely got our shoes and socks soaked in that muddy water. Our hair would be hanging like lacquered strands and our uniforms clinging like a wet suit. As we passed certain streets we would scramble to cup our palms over mini leaping frogs that hopped across to meet the flowing waters through open trenches , they replaced underground gutters. The water was clean but muddy- It carried no waste material. If we were lucky to catch a few tadpoles we popped them into an empty ink bottle to be kept under observation to discover their metamorphosis.
When I watched my plants here, battered with those heavy showers, I thought of those monsoons in my hometown . Tangasseri- of the howling winds and ceaseless showers giving the wayside plants a cool feast after the hot spell of a humid summer. As we walked together in groups to school, we giggled with pleasure as we became part of the universe. Sometimes we would shiver and shake as the cold winds blew over our wet clothes. It did not bother us if we were late for school, as Mother Nature and the monsoon weather provided the excuse. So we dilly dallied gaining pleasure from watching droplets of water roll off a particular elephant eared plant, like little balls of mercury. We pinched those swollen luscious stems of a little shrub we called it the “Slate water plant” - we used them to clean our slates. Sometimes we squeezed the stems of the water blew into it when it was filled with air – we punched it on each other’s head to hear it pop and it gave us a tickle to giggle or we cleaned our slates with those watery stems (So different from the new age I pads and notebook
As I grew into a teenager , the monsoons were a hindrance to my outings.
Some daring teenage couples would find it exciting to make the rains an opportunity to meet under an umbrella hoping that adults would never venture out. Tangasseri being a small place some odd person would cycle by and within minutes –in Tangy terms, the moochers {lovers}would face the home court but very few faced the penalty as in the New Bungalow jurisdiction, where if I dared then the consequence was corporal punishment, counting stars with the belt stripes by my protective mother. I look back and think , the tough upbringing has helped me walk through difficult situations without becoming like a cookie that crumbles.
Society has changed today- Youth are living in a more permissive environment with feather touch emotions almost dictating terms to parents. Parenting has changed from "spare the rod and spoil the child." to "dance to tunes."
I was surprised to see the freedom that the Young teenage boys and girls have acquired today. Tangasseri school kids have lost discipline and the fundamental values of life.
In my perspective those clandestine meetings in the rain , being monitored by big brother trying to follow home rules gave teenage years more fun, as the saying goes, “stolen fruit tastes sweet.”
Rainy days jog my memory of the times we girls from Tangy commenced our university years. A group of us together used the local transport to the University. We had to alight at a stop near a college for boys, from there it was fair walk to our university - We were the only girls wearing modest western dress-the rest of the girls the rest wore a traditional Indian dress. Young lads from the non English speaking community would follow us and have a bit of fun-One can term it as initial bullying, all taken in the right spirit They would tell us in their vernacular , “ Madama eviday vella pokum ila”(madam there are no floods so why do you wear short skirts?) although our skirts were below the knees.
“Madama thuni iku vella corov anu” (madam cloth is cheap these days so you can wear long skirts or a saree.) After a couple of months , I was determined to dress in sari to be part of the main culture. Now this change took a different turn, to my surprise it even drew more attention with flattering comments. Like “Now you look attractive” Malayalam is the language spoken in Kerala- the manner tone diction, gives it a punch. Our days in the first years of university was study, fun and serious assignments- Rain or no rain we gave our studies the priority. The monsoons were no more fun days, we had to focus to achieve,
Today, years have flown by- I have moved to a country with a new culture and a different weather pattern , I look at the rain and worry about the floods, about the ecological balance, about the damage caused about insurance, about climate change- When I see dark clouds, I wonder whether we would get those large tennis ball like hail pelt on our tiles and crack them. A year ago I was in my birth place, Tangy- when the monsoons began- I could never recollect whether I ever heard such blasts of thunder and flashing streaks of lightening in those early years when I lived in Tangasseri. Weather patterns, for certain have changed all over the world- We have to ask for scientific reasons and pose serious questions-to scientists and government, Is pollution altering the climate and creating catastrophic disasters –like floods and Tsunamis excessive heat waves that burn our forests? Will we get adequate rain to protect us from drought?- are we putting enough recourses into meeting the challenges of nature- Dr David Susuki , has his scientific predictions which has not been given the importance it should, My nostalgia of a joyful relationship with nature has gradually transformed into questioning mother nature.
By Deidre/ Mary Peterson
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ReplyDeleteGood thoughts and and well described.
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