Kitchen – smithy- fore school(REAR WINDOW)

Valiamma used to wake up at 4’o clock in the morning. Preparing the kitchen was the first among a long list of daily chores. Devakiamma, her hand-in -aid would join in. Though much different from the modern day kitchen, the centre of axis was the same as todays:  the fireplace. It was not just one but a series, apt to be called a fire range.  Keeping the hearth neat and tidy was considered propitious; and   a source of pride to the housewife. There was a loft of wooden planks atop the fire range, purpose of which was to get kitchenware warm using the upwardly flame and smoke.  This mechanism was quite handy to get raw bananas and plantain ripe, in case of an emergency.

Salt had its special accommodation in a maravi (bicker) made of rock stone or wood.  A ladle made of coconut-shell would be kept alongside to take liquid-salt. Kitchen had a skullery where all utensils get washed. The well of the house would be set in such a way as to lift water directly to the kitchen. Dining was yet to be upgraded to table-tops. It was quite ‘down to earth’ on a tiny plank or pigmy stool.  Hand-mouth coordination was fluent with no spoon, fork or knife interfering; saving a jack-leaf perhaps.  Quern was an important kitchenware. Pulses and grams were powdered in this manual mixer-grinder that had a pair of stone plates moving parallel to each other on a common central pole. Churning stone, grinding stone, mortar stone etc were   the other indigenous mechanisms.  Food cooked with the ingredients prepared daily out of these rustic gadgets proved to be fresh, pure and tasty. But then, this lethargic process needed quite some work-force!  It was not a big deal since all households had enough inmates and helpers on call were round the corner.  The strong room of the house was called Arappura (wooden cellar).  Its path yam (inner barn) was the locker-room where cereals and such long term farm produce were stored intact. Giant earthen jars (called Bharani) adorned the entrance of pathayam. They were not just some decorative artifacts but efficient storage facilities.  Mangoes put in salt would be safe for long periods in these giants. Salted mangoes formed an ever ready fast-dish even while the mango season was long past.  Devakiamma was detected for hypertension, one day. The doctor advised to avoid salt.  Still a week or so, her condition deteriorated.  Finally, she was found to be taking lots of salt mangoes. When questioned, her rationale was simple:  the doc’s ban was on salt rather than on salt-mango.

During summer, the nearby wells would dry up. Neighbours would queue up in front of our ever green well. Some of them would help valiamma with some manual work for which the instant retribution would be a handful of mangoes, a jack fruit or some tubers.  Adjoining the kitchen was uralpura or the mortar room. Stone-made mortar and its wooden pestles for pounding were not the only inmates. A big rice box with four or five inner cells and a long array of vessels carrying other grocery could be seen alongside. The traditional rice box made of jack wood or its wild brother, proved a safe haven against pests.   Norm of the day was to husk and boil paddy at home itself. Afterwards, it would be sent to the local flour mills to extract rice.  In due course of time, door to door hawkers came in with prepared rice and it was bye bye to the mills. Ditto was the fate that awaited these new entrants, as ready-ware grocery shops and statutory rationing system began emerging.

One day, during my usual conquest of the kitchen, valiamma interrupted,’’ today onwards, Aanandakuttan should supervise Sankunni panikkan.’’   Suffixes like Kuttan were affectionate appellations, customary at that time. Sankunni panikkan was the family’s chief artisan or moothasari as we called him.  He was in fact the moffusil’s public property.  Anyone wishing to build a new house would have to consult him first. He would not oblige that easily. There were certain criteria to be satisfied, like the posture and positioning of the prospective plot.  If only the physiognomic features of the plot satisfied the traditional architectural mores, he would give the nod to proceed.  Moothassari knew all those theories and practices by heart.  In doubt, he had the luxury of referring to a host of authentic texts like Manushyalaya chandrika, Thanthrasamuchayam, Viswakarmeeyam, Shilparantham, and Mayamatham. Even if the plot is okay, you can’t just build your house anywhere on that. Moothasari would draw a line in the east-west direction bisecting the plot in the middle. Then, a similar one in the north-south direction too.  Now, you have 4 divisions. The north-southern  division is termed manushyakhandam ( human piece ), the south-western one  devakhandam( god piece),the  south-eastern one  yamakhandam ( death piece) and  the north- western one asurakhandam (demon piece). Manushyakhandam is the ideal one for building houses.  In any case the traditional architects would not permit houses on yama and asura pieces.

One day moothasari took me along to see a house under construction. Usually children would not be sent along with strangers and outsiders. The liberty this time was because mom and valiamma wanted a little relief from my presence, interpreted certain vested interests. The upcoming house was a naalukettu (Quadrangular with an inner court-yard). Moothasari explained its characteristic features to me.  A typical naalukettu has four faces  viz  thekkini (south head),  vadakkini (north head),  kizhakkini (east head), and  padinjatti ( west head)  embedding a common court-yard  that ensures  air and  sunlight supply into the house. If resources permit, a corner appellation (kon-gruha) can be added to each of these faces. There are clear-cut directions for the implanting of trees around a house, as well. Elanji(mimusop’s tree), peraal ( fig tree)and plaavu( jack tree) on the eastern side,  athi( ficus venosa), puli ( tamarind tree)and kavungu( arecanut palm)  to the south and ezhilampala( alstonia scholaris), thenmaavu( sweet- mango tree) and  ithi (ficus glomerata) to the north would be ideal. Take care to avoid trees that may harm the dwelling irrespective of their utility. Moothasari used to pinpoint on the prime concern while setting a house: the kitchen. It can be on the north-east or south-east or north-west with the hearth facing east or north.

Moothasari‘s construction manual takes into account not just the human inmates.  Cow-den, shippon and hen-coop would by all means be part of the house.  A mouse and a snake were neighbours near a farmer’s country house. One day the mouse told the snake in panic that their host had brought a rat-trap. The snake didn’t bother, saying, ‘’ I don’t have to panic. If I make a hiss people will run for life.’’  The cow took the news casually, ‘’ it’s not my problem, you take care.’’  And the cock too didn’t seem to empathise. That night, the farmer’s wife had a snake-bite. People killed the snake. To get the money required for her treatment the farmer sold the cow to an abettor. The lady succumbed to the bite and the cock was served to the guests for the post-funeral feast. Eventually all but the mouse remained.  Inference is simple: the lives in and around a house are inter-related, whether human, animal or bird.

My accidental relationship with Sankunni panikkan could be the invisible thread that linked me to housing, taking me in search of low-cost, eco-friendly dwellings to housing wonders like Faathi’s Egypt and Godi’s Barcelona, eventually culminating in the establishment of the Nirmithi Kendra in Kerala.  From moothasari’s humble smithy to a membership in the UN Habitat, the housing wing of the world body and the chance to take part in the UN general assembly, is it a fate accomplished?   Everything must be having a cause-effect kinship, whether you believe in Descartes or Adwaitha.

To open the inner eye, a master needs to enter one’s childhood. Most households did materialize this concept, without fail. Our family had entrusted the responsibility with Pariyarathu Krishna Pilla. His individuality was more expansive than that of a usual pre-school master. Dressed up in short-sleeved jubba with a golden button, baritone voice, and legible speech, the man was sweet and soft, though apparently rough. He would come in the mornings and impart the first alphabets to seedlings, soil being the canvass. Elder children would get classes in epics, ancient lore and of course, general knowledge. He was quite able to explain or analyze anything and everything. A local goldsmith, smeared with cow-dung powder all over the body and a rudraksha around the neck, would come home once in a while. His hair, moustache, beard, all gone red.  Once Krishna Pilla master, seeing his strange attire, narrated the story behind some of them. To put on a rudraksha, there are certain rules and regulations. As the name indicates, it was born out of the eyes (Aksha) of Rudra (lord Shiva). When the atrocities of a demon called Thripura became unbearable to them, the devas sought Shiva’s help. He closed his eyes in deep thought searching for a way out. Eons passed by. Finally when he opened his eyes, tears dropped out, from which rudra trees sprouted. Shiva is believed to have three eyes, named after sun, moon and fire. The tear drops gave rise to rudrakshas–12 varieties from the sunny eye, 16 types from the moony eye and 10 from the fiery eye. That is rudraksha history for you.  Seeing the said goldsmith circumambulating the local temple many times, the master unleashed the regulations and rationale behind this ritual as well. One needs to do circumambulation in moist clothes. That it would help in preventing inflammation in the loin is common science. That the super natural grace would directly enter the body while praying in wet clothing is theological argument. Also, there are prescribed numbers for encircling each deity. For Ganapathi and the Sun god, the devotee needs to circumambulate only once. For Kaali it is two times, Shiva three, Vishnu / Devi four, Ayyappa five and Subramanian six. Banyan tree demands the maximum rounds—seven. With Brahma at its root, Vishnu in the middle and Shiva at the acne, the holy tree is entitled to claim such extra respect.  Master also recited the verse with which devotees should go round the holy tree:

• Moolatho brahma roopaya
• Madhyatho Vishnu roopine
• Agratho rudra roopaya
• Vruksha rajaaya nama:

What would be the relationship like, between a child and a master in this type of fore-schooling? Let me again take refuge in Krishna Pilla master’s wisdom:  A pot and a pestle in a house got swept away in a flood. The pestle asked the pot ‘’may I sit on you before I drown?’’ The pot refused ‘’no. if you touch me I’d break. Better we move along till both of us get drowned.’’ After a while, someone from the house reclaimed both the pot and the pestle from floodwaters. By the time, the pot had the pestle’s mark on it. And the pestle had the pot’s. Likewise, master and his fore-schoolers flow together in life, making their marks in each other’s souls.

At a time devoid of television, computer and the internet, we got enriched through kitchen, smithy and fore school. The inputs they provided in the formative age turned out to be sound fixed deposits, returning interest on a daily basis or full return on maturity, whichever way you cherish.