Chella's Chronicles.

 

She enjoyed a luxurious life in her girlhood days, being the blue-eyed grand-daughter of the local judicial magistrate of a village that had seen better times when Englishmen ruled the roost.  Her father, an Engineer in the local electricity department, owed his existence and reputation to the upright no-nonsense magistrate in the local court. Of course, the engineer had a worthy qualification and was eloquent enough to give a run for any Dorai's money when it came to the Firang's language. As I said, he owed all these and more to his magistrate father. The judge taught not just English, but the prevailing legalese of the times to his five children through rather informal ways by sitting in judgement and disposing off domestic cases at home, admitted impromptu, whenever disputes arose, in the family drawing room, most of them trivial and not worthy of the magistrate's attention. Of course, he also adjudicated serious cases in the family sans the simulated court parlance and practices.

Back to the grand-daughter, she was sent to the local school, "Amala Convent", where every scion of respectable families in the village were taught by nuns and fathers of the local CSI mission. Probably, Christianity spread its wings and entered the country by first making inroads in this region. Most hospitals and schools of the times in this region owed their existence to the Christian missionaries from England. The CSI mission and The Salvation Army are two such major evangelicals that have seen the vicissitudes of time spanning more than a century and have survived to date. The protagonist here, the magistrate's granddaughter, Chella, mingled with the Christian populace in school, but kept religiously to her conservative Hindu practices dictated through generations of ancestry that can be traced back to a traditionally laid back town with rich history and heritage in the neighbouring district, known for making waffles on a large scale.

Growing up in an affluent family made Chella a happy-go-lucky girl. Boasting of a spacious bungalow on the highway with a fairly large backyard and garden spread over five acres, with every tree one could name, Chella had an unforgettable and happy childhood devoid of any worry, concern or handicap, whether monetary or otherwise. She had the best of eatables at her command, be it the fresh fruits from the south western ghats brought in by vendors to her home, or the best of cakes and pastries from "The Little Flower Bakery" (then owned and managed by a young British girl), the nicest of dresses purchased from the local district headquarters, a few miles away from the village, or watching evening shows in the local theatre without having to buy a ticket or having to walk down to the Cinemas, about half a mile away from home. The ever reliable and trustworthy Ambassador, driven by the loyal Moses was a luxury few could dream in those days.

Like they say, good times do not last, nor do bad times. But here, in this story, Chella's first eighteen years was destined to be followed by challenging and troublesome times ahead of her. A marriage with a distant relative within the family catapulted Chella from southern rural settings to Bombay, the commercial and cosmopolitan capital of the days. Disasters followed. She came back to her village within six months, draped in white. He was a congenital heart patient, earlier with instructions from the Doc to his parents, never to think of wedlock. So the old couple lost their only son, he paid with his life, Chella, her future and the esteemed family, their social standing and reputation.

A subdued period of uneasy silence and disquiet prevailed in the large household after Chella boomeranged herself back to the obscured village, and to a community that was yet struggling to wriggle out of customs and taboos steeped in archaic beliefs and practices.

A forlorn Chella was all left to herself, cloistered by the dictates of an inflexible patriarchy of 'twice-borns' that swore by age old practices. The senior patriarch stood stoically on the altar of an expressionless demeanor that few could fathom. His 'perceived' neutrality, even when it came to sensitive domestic matters, was those that could hardly escape poignancy in a normal man. But destiny put paid to the purported indifference of the spartan with a staid countenance. Few months later, a seemingly heartless heart refused to pump further to its organic associates, ebbing life out of the hitherto dispenser of justice. His last two words were unforgettable to those clustered around on his deathbed...."Chella...Chella" !!

Her electrical engineer father, who was shocked beyond belief at the unheralded turn of events, turned out to be more expressively sympathetic than his own father. A change in family regime ensued, when he had to perforce don the mantle of pater familias. He decided to, slowly but surely; emerge out of the tall shadows of the deceased magistrate. But the engineer was wise and mature enough to bring about a transition in a most dignified and enduring manner. An almost seamless metamorphosis of sorts was on the anvil.

Widowed, but issue-less, Chella sometimes sought refuge in the pelagic confluence at the land's end that was only a few miles away. The engineer, on the pretext of attending to official work at the headquarters, occasionally took Chella to the Promenade to enable her to ruminate and to find peace in an otherwise heartless world. The sight of a gradual consumption of the fiery ball by endless realms of water was a great lesson, both in humility and hope. Even the largest luminary had to perforce, retire from glory, albeit temporarily and give way to his nocturnal queen, to preside over nature and people, in his absence.

The seemingly quiet waters on the surface were, in no measure, devoid of strong undercurrents. So was the engineer. During the long walks along the Promenade, he urged Chella to make productive use of such pensive times to learn and acquire skills that could stand her in good stead in the times to come. 

The outcome of such welcome breaks from a claustrophobic monotony in life was not only redeeming but also ushered in new possibilities for an otherwise helpless girl. Chella subscribed to long distance course on the National language from an institute in the state capital through a franchisee from the nearby district headquarters, much to the chagrin of both womenfolk and elders in the extended family and community. But the aggrieved father, now the Asst Superintending Engineer of the taluk, brooked no dissension in these matters and kept the freeloading advisors at bay and at a protective distance from his hopes. Chella also went on to learn the classical language of the Gods and the neighboring vernacular from a reputed institution in God's own country that paradoxically embraced communism, the chief propagator ironically belonging the upper most sect of the twice born in the whole of the Hindu country. 

A few years passed by in the transition process. The period also witnessed some progress with Chella's siblings. Her elder brother, who could not progress beyond the sixth form, attended an interview, at the instance and making of his father, with a National coffee marketing company and would be 'bonded" with the business for life until he would be superannuated at the turn of the century. Two younger brothers were yet in school, trying to make sense of what could be in store for them in the times to come. The younger of them would later make it to the Space Center in the neighbouring state capital, where he would serve until his retirement. The other brother turned out to be the typical prodigal son of a rather indulgent father. A rolling stone, gathering no moss through his lifetime, and shunned by all and sundry, he would finally end up as the standby priest in 'street-corner' temples, left to fend for himself, all alone. He would finally succumb during the post-covid summer in a small coastal town that witnessed communal riots in the early eighties, unable to endure excruciating pain in his pelvic region.

Chella, armed with knowledge of two languages apart from the local vernacular, enrolled as a tutor in a private school, close to her home. She soon fell into standard routines from dawn to dusk, interspersed with light domestic duties at home. Her mother, a most dutiful and obedient wife (who also bore the brunt of a patriarchal household), was most tolerant with her children, Chella included.

After the demise of the judge, the question of partition of assets was looming large on the joint family of his two sons. The daughters were given away in marriage to grooms from distant cities. Among a host of other assets, the residential home of the family was agreed upon to be split vertically across the median line cutting across from the main door up to the backyard containing the fruit trees. Only the outer verandah, open passage and garden leading to the main gate on the highway were shared as common property between the brothers. The engineer chose to retain the left side of the partition while the right side went to his civil engineer brother who took upon himself the task of building the wall across the length of the house. The garage near the gate was on the left corner of the plot.

Chella's father then thought deeply about the existential realities of the family and decided that it was time to call for bold reforms. Through the columns of the an English "National Newspaper", he put forth a proffer to accept a bride for his eldest son provided the prospective bride's brother was willing to grant a fresh lease of life to his only daughter, with no other strings attached. He offered to bear all the expenses of the proposed twin marriages. His only condition stipulated that the family should belong to the same community, with no bar on sub-sect, region or economic status.

There was no immediate response though, after about a week, the postman knocked. It was a letter posted from Pathankot. A young junior officer from Air Force had made a bid. The message was rather brief with a summarized background of the family that hailed from the banks of Cauvery. The family had, apparently, seen better times in its previous generations. The Sergeant's father had, effortlessly, over a period of time, managed to dismantle his father's empire bit by bit, until a time came when his eldest son ran away from home to enroll in the Defense services. Now he became the sole breadwinner in the family. This gesture from the Sergeant was intended to see one of his two sisters married and ensconced safely in a respectable family where all her needs would be fulfilled.

The time came for the Sergeant to be called for an informal interview with the Engineer. It was fixed for a couple of months later since the prospective groom had to travel through the length of the country in those reddish vestibules chugging in and out of the diverse landscapes. He was also mandated to serve a month's notice for any leave especially during times of war with neighboring countries. Eventually, the discussions took place, sans the elders in the serviceman’s family. The Sergeant took the decision. Chella's marriage was fixed first, as a sine qua non for the Coffee-man's wedding. The former event was a low key affair with none from the groom's family being invited for the union that was solemnized in a temple atop a hill about two miles from the highway home. The temple that exists for more than two thousand years, is the "venue that witnessed the wedlock between Lord Subramanya and Goddess Valli", asserts Silappathikaram, one of the earliest epic poems in Tamil literature. The quid-pro-quo wedding was a grand gala affair, celebrated in style in a large mandap in the district headquarters, attended by one and all, including the bride's family. 

All’s well that ends well. But did it end well ? Well, that’s for another day, another time. Chella’s chronicles will continue.