Life without electricity

Recently, during Life without computer my granddaughter (Annie Nayanika; we call her Nonee) asked me what toys I used and what kind of games I played during my childhood. That was an interesting question and my mind went back decades.

By and large the playthings were made from locally available materials. Country crafts and carts with wheels made from wood by native carpenters were the favorites. But only a few in the village could afford even those. Many used balls and other toys made from coconut fronds.

Balls were also made of dried latex strips from wild rubber trees which were common in the place. Sometimes the children played with dry odollum fruits, well aware that they were poisonous.

We were economically better off than the others in the village and used to get imported mechanical toys. UK made products was good. The Japanese ones were considered cheap imitations. This was before the Second World War.

Most of the games we used to play did not require any special equipment. Being in a rural area there were so many other means of passing time as well. Fishing for one. Or canoing n the ponds and canals. Chasing butterflies. Catching dragonflies, tying a string to their tails and making them lift stones. And so on.

Nonee was fascinated with all these. When I told her that we had no electricity or telephone till I was about 25 years old, she could not believe it. What shocked her most was that people could live without TV.

How we got power connection is an interesting story. Two top officials of the Electricity Department (this was before Electricity Board was constituted) came home with an uncle. The elder children were introduced to them - first me, then my directly younger brother Mathew.

Uncle told the officials that Mathew was leaving for the United States in a month’s time for higher studies. Going to America was not a common event those days.

One of the officials immediately stated that it would be a shame to the country if Mathew had to tell the Americans that he came from a village which had no electricity. To cut a long story short, power was switched on in our house the night before Mathew was to leave.

Nonee was impressed. Then I exposed myself to a child’s logic by saying that even before electricity came, we had a radio powered by a car battery. Her immediate question was why we did not use the same method to watch TV. I explained to her that TV came to India much later.

Frankly, I cannot imagine how we managed without electricity till the late 1950s.

Also see:

Cricket in remote areas

From the Memory Box: Ponnozhukum Thodu – the stream where gold flows

Somewhere in the deep recesses of the human brain there are little memory boxes. The past is stored in them. Occasionally an invisible key opens them spontaneously. It could be a sound, a smell, a picture, a face that triggers the process.

Yesterday I thought of Ponnozhukum Thodu. Ponnozhukum means ‘(where) gold flows’ and thodu is stream. What turned on the kaleidoscope into the past was a photograph on the Kallivayalil Family website (http://www.kallivayalil.com/). That is Ammachi’s (mother’s) family. (See Oru Desathinte Amma.)

The picture shows a scene from the Ponnozhukum Thodu – rice fields, cattle grazing in the distance, an ancient structure that is called ‘madom’ in which the ground floor is storage space and above that is an old Kerala style hall.

Ammachi’s ancestral house, known as Konduparambil, is east facing, on a hillock. The view from there is beautiful. About a hundred meters from the house is the road which Ichachan (See: Remembering grandfather) had opened long ago to the public. After that are the rice fields.

A causeway links the road to the private bathing ghat with a thatched canopy at the thodu. Again a stretch of paddy fields. Beyond them were the hills, greenish to start with, slowly fading into a hazy blue in the distance and merging with the sky.

Summer holidays were customarily spent at mother’s house. That was the time for play and pranks and frolicking in the sparkling stream for hours on end. Some of the smooth pebbles and sand in the brook glitter like gold. That was how it got its name.

Later on, when I grew up, I came to know that the gleam was caused by manganese content. Sad end to a childhood myth. But it still remains Ponnozhukum Thodu, gold or not.

Thirty odd years back I took my two elder children to visit Emmachi (that is what we used to call grandmother). They wanted to bathe in the brook about which I had told them so much. Emmachi gave us thorth (native towels) and Pears Soap. For some reason it was always Pears Soap at mother’s house.

There was a warning as well from Emmachi: ‘Don’t let them spend too much time in the stream like you did. They are not used to this water.’ True. Bangalore where they were studying had no Ponnozhukum Thodu.

That was the last time I went to the stream. And the last time I saw Emmachi.

Ends.

Also see: Gold color chips and a golden hearted Lady