Whenever we recollect our life, the first thought is about the childhood days. Recollecting those ever green memories is a joy to the writer, to those who were part of them, and to those who have an interest in the past. Many a detail regarding our locality can be forgotten unless written down and preserved for posterity. These reasons prompt me to set down my childhood memories.

Birth

The word ‘market’ may call up lots of connotations that we do not connect with academics or things other than business, buying, selling and profits. To say that I was born in the market would make the reader smile a little. But that is a fact. Let me tell you the story.

My father M S Mathew was commonly known among family and friends as Mathachen Mammoottil. He ran a shop in Changanacherry market. The family lived in our home located just behind the shop. I was born there. As per the prevailing custom, the midwife assisted my mom to deliver of me. So I can say that I was literally born in Changanacherry market. In a family of ten, I was the sixth issue and the second son. Six girls and four boys. I am the median of the ten siblings, being born ten years younger to my eldest brother and ten years older to my youngest sibling. Being the second son, I was named after my maternal grandfather (this was customary among the Syrian Christians of Kerala), Plammoottil, Pannose [abbreviated version of Esthapannose: the Malayalam name of Stephen]. Many have often asked me how I got that name which is rare among the Christian community in this part of the world. Here is the answer to it. I do not know whether it was a coincidence or not; I was born on 26 December, which according to the church calendar is the feast of St Stephen!

Our home was not entirely occupied by my immediate family. We had another family living under the same roof in just exactly like any of my siblings.  The story is this.  My father’s eldest brother, M S John (Ulahanan)* passed away quite young, leaving his family of six children and his wife. They stayed with us. We lived as one family. To us they were elder brothers and sisters. There was never a ‘we’ and ‘they’ feeling among us. Our cousins called their mother “Ammachi”  and so we ten, also called her “Ammachi”. Just for the sake of avoiding confusion, we ten called our mother “Ammamma.” 

*Mammootil Ulahanan, who ran a drama troupe besides managing his shop, is mentioned in the book in the History of Changanacherry written by Joseph Koottummel in his “Changanacherium Changanacherry Pallium”. Ulahannan was one of the pioneers of popular theatre for which Changanacherry was well known in Kerala.

Home

Our home was located just 100 metres away from the historic landmark ‘Anjuvilakku’ (five lamps). [It is told to us by the earlier generation that the Anjuvilakku was originally erected at the first cross road, now called kozhichanda, east of the current location. Only later that it was re-erected at the current location, at the edge of the boat jetty]. It is now the icon of Changanacherry town. This ancient light mast with five branches to light five lamps was installed in memory of the market built during the Diwanship of Veluthampi Dalawa of Travancore. Changanacherry market which had seen golden days as an inland port and a junction between the backwaters of Kuttanad and the threshold of the high ranges. A careful look at the layout of the market displays a masterly planning and layout. [Big Salute to the unknown town planner and architect].

 The satellite view gives us an idea of the structured layout. To view live from satellite click here. The roads and lanes are straight and cross each other straight. There are two parallel roads, one from the chapel in front of the Anchuvilakku now called vegetable market road,  and the other one a few meters to the north-side starting from the boat jetty, named market road, the main road leading to changanacherry Junction and M C Road. Our house was on the vegetable market road. There are shops after shops facing these roads face to face and the walls are common for many of them. There are houses adjacent to most of these shops, not visible from the road.

The backyards of these residences are separated by a lane specifically for scavengers. The toilets were constructed in such a way that the night soil was collected in big buckets kept under the closet and were cleaned by municipal scavengers who transferred it to a cart and pulled away to a dumping area on the east side of the town. One single scavenger lane had access to the backs of the two lines of residences facing the two roads. This scavenger lane was rarely used for any other purpose, except by ladies wanting to chat with their neighbours.

In those days most homes had limited living spaces in the houses and open spaces were also severely limited in the town residences. Today looking back, one wonders how we, about twenty in all managed to stay in such a limited floor area! Only the elders had cots to sleep on .The younger generation slept on mats, called ‘Paai’ made of dry fronds of Pookaitha (Pandarus canaranus) woven by hand and available in the market. One day a new foldable canvas cot with wooden frame was brought home. We children found it fun to jump on the new cot and we were joined enthusiastically by a few of my cousins who were visiting with us. The jumping game ended with the canvas getting torn and the cot collapsing bringing down the jumpers with it. Thus the foldable cot had a sudden death

In 1965, our residence was shifted to Puzhavathu,Changanacherry, one and a half kilometers away from the market. The building behind the shop is being used as a store house.

Market days

Wednesday and Saturday are market days in Changanacherry. Those days were like festive days when the road in front of our house and the whole market area would be flooded with all kinds of merchandise and street vendors peddling commodities ranging from vegetables to homemade curd, ladles to baskets and… what not. The streets would be packed with buyers and sellers and carts drawn by bullocks and men too. It was very difficult to find your way through. Most of the vendors were local men and women. These goods were brought from the eastern villages outside the town in bullock carts from the wee hours of the morning. Motor vehicles were few and far between. On market days we could hear the grind and bells of the endless line of bullock carts coming in. These carts and bullocks were assigned in a specific parking space on the side of the market road. It was called ‘vandipetta’, a name that is still retained, though the bullock carts have become museum curiosities now!

Festivals

Makarathilperunal

The road in front of our house runs straight to St Mary’s cathedral, which is 900 years old and a major landmark of Changanacherry. To get a close view of the church click here. Though important feasts of Our Lady, the patron are celebrated with due solemnity, the big event of the year was always the feast of St Sebastian falling in January. It is traditionally referred to as Makaram perunnal or Makarathil perunal which is a reference to the month of Makaram on the old Malayalam Calendar. It is celebrated in the first week of Makaram which coincides the second- third weeks of January. The big highlight of the festival is the grand procession of the Saint’s statue accompanied by the statues of other saints in the church, starting from the Cathedral and proceeding through the road in front of our house to the Chapel at boat jetty and back to the Cathedral. In later years this became more elaborate and the procession was extended to the fish market and the return procession was rerouted through the Market main road. One of the most vivid memories that we cherish was the days and sleepless nights we spent in the days before the grand procession, decorating the road. We had brass lamps using oil lit up in front of our shop. They were two types:  kuthuvilaku (One that was stuck on the ground with its pointed stem) and thookuvilaku (one that was hung from a chain). As the procession moved before the shop, we all stood there prayerfully dressed up in our best clothes. The festival procession was heralded by the Muncipal tanker lorry sprinkling water on the dusty roads.

Chandanakudam

At the back of our house, facing the market road was a Muslim family named Azheekal. We were very close with them. The women in our house drew drinking water from their well every day, since the well water in our home was not potable. Changanacherry is known for the Chandanakudam festival of the Muslims held on 25 & 26 December every year. On 26^th the procession starts at the boat jetty and proceeds to the main mosque, Puthoor Pally, through the market road. This day we were given the privilege of watching the proceedings from the first floor of our Muslim neighbour. We could enjoy the grand sight of the caparisoned elephants and the golden vessel carried on top of it in the procession, from close quarters. To watch a documentary on chandanakudam click here

The above is an illustration of what is remarkable about my town and its people.  It is a town where the centres of worship of all communities stand close to each other and it is nothing unusual to see Hindus, Muslims and Christians as next door neighbours and doing business with each other, sharing resources and friendship, and celebrating festivals together.

Early Education

Education in those days was very different from what it is today. There were no Kindergartens and English Medium schools. We started our early learning of letters at a ‘Kalary’. There was only one teacher an Ashaan in charge of everything. We were taught to write on sand, the floor bed of the kalary. Our notebook was a palm leaf (Ezhuthola) on which the letters taught each day was engraved by Ashaan for each student. A nursery (kindergarten) was opened by Kandankary Thangamma aunty in our neighbourhood, the first one of its kind and my younger sister had the privilege of studying there.

From Kalary I proceeded to join St Joseph’s Girls School, close to the Cathedral. Boys were permitted till the second standard. I was part of the procession of my sisters and cousin sisters whom I accompanied to the school on foot.  At school I was known to many as the brother of my four sisters. Often they or their friends fondly carried me around.

Discipline

As anyone can imagine ours was a large family and it had its fun and enjoyments. Contrary to what some would imagine, the numbers did not adversely affect the quality of our formation. Our parents never had to follow up our education nor involve in disciplining us. We the children had our checks and balances among ourselves. We were privileged to be staying with a family of senior cousins. They were our role models, guardians and mentors. Let me recall a humorous incident from those days. The standing instruction in the family was that the children should not appear before visitors unless called for. Once my elder brother was called to serve water to a group of guests. One of the guests said “thank you”. My brother immediately left the place. The guest called him back and asked “do you know the meaning of ‘thank you’?” His reply was “thank you means ‘odikko’ (get away)!”

Our childhood has left indelible memories in our mind and moulded our character in ways that we are not even fully conscious of. I feel it my joyful duty to sharing those memories for posterity, before I myself might forget it.

I am grateful to Dr Gigi Joseph, Koottumel, my colleague in the department of English, who added flesh and freshness to my memoir. His support and encouragement prompts me to continue blogging