Chapter Thirteen
Leaving the Nest
Immediately after she passed her SSC, Pankajakshi returned to live in the village and we picked up on our friendship as if there had been no gap. We started learning typing and shorthand at the Shekhar Institute in Kottarakara. Amma would pack me lunch in a little tiffin box with a handle. The two of us would share the meal but I wouldn’t mention this at home because eating from the same box with someone from a different caste could bring with it repercussions. Of course, it made no difference to me. We were soul sisters, Pankajakshi and I!
One of our favourite pastimes was discussing plans for starting a women’s association or a ‘Mahila Samajam’ in Kottathala. What inspired us was that the National Extension Service (NES) block had already set up such a ‘Mahila Samajam’ in Kottarakara, as part of a government initiative. This was all thanks to the fact that Damodaran Potti, the Speaker of the Kerala Legislative Assembly and his wife were Kottarakara-based and women’s empowerment was high on their agenda. We had the good fortune to get to meet Mrs Potti, the President of this Ladies’ group and she offered to help us set up a similar group in our village. She referred us to social workers in the NES block for further guidance. Encouraged by all this we floated the idea with some educated women in our village and won their support. In a month’s time, we were ready. I asked Amma if I could use the house as the office for the ‘Samajam’ and for our meetings as everyone in our village knew the Warriem. Amma, I knew, could be relied upon for she was always ready to support everything we did. We formed a committee and started the ‘Samajam’. A notebook to register names was bought and soon we had signed up almost 400 members. Amma became the automatic choice for President of the ‘Mahila Samajam’ since they asked us to appoint an older woman to the post. This gave the Samajam respectability in the eyes of the locals. I became the Secretary and Pankajakshi was the Joint Secretary.
The Mahila Samajam took off well and its first annual meeting was organized in style. As part of the Annual Day celebrations of the first year, we had a function in the local school where we performed a play. I remember that I played the role of an old man in it. The act of getting together for a common goal charged the women and opened them up. We began to see new thoughts and ideas emerge from these women who had been closeted in their homes until then.
That was also the time when Chechi came back from her in-law’s house to have her first baby. Vallyettan and Chechi had had an exchange marriage with a pair of siblings. Since they had got married on the same day, it was not surprising that both wives conceived at around the same time. Vallyettan and ‘Chettathi’ had just had Jaya, who was the first baby of the next generation. She was born in my sister-in-law’s home in Kerala. That March, Chechi came home for her delivery and we were all set for the first ‘home delivery’ of the next generation. I had recently watched a Tamil film which was called Nirmala Niraparadi, “Nirmala is innocent”. That was how, with the blessings of both Chechi and Amma, the new arrival got her name.
Vallyettan and Chettathi, who were now settled in Bombay, visited us that December with their one-year-old. I was hoping to accompany them back to Bombay, when they returned and seek a job in the city. I had by then learnt typing and shorthand and imagined that I would soon be gainfully employed and be able to add to the finances of the home. The idea did not go down well with them, as they felt that their resources would not be enough to look after an additional member in the family. Both Vallyettan and Chettathi tried to convince me that Bombay was not the heaven I imagined. “Stay with Amma and live happily. Sing and dance and get married. There’s no need to think of working. Life in Bombay is hard and needs a lot of adjustment. Even if one gets a job, it’s not the best life for a young girl.” I heard this message over and over till I was reduced to tears.
By then it was also clear to us that Chechi was not going back to her in-laws’ home. Her marriage had gone sour. And now that she had had a baby, she also needed money to support the child. Amma knew that Chechi would need to be looked after and if I, an educated girl stayed home, I would just be an additional burden to the family. At that point, I had no intention of ever getting married and settling down. I was determined to work and look after Amma. Luckily for me, Kochettan was at home on leave and became my intermediary. I got him to intercede on my behalf and persuade Vallyettan to take me with him to Bombay. He explained to them that this would be best for all concerned. He assured them that he would support my stay in Bombay in as much as his military life allowed him to. Kochettan was confident of my ability to make it in Bombay.
Kochettan also got Chechi to join a tailoring class and offered to purchase a sewing machine for her to provide her with a means to earn some money. He was clear that she should not be coerced into going to any place she was not happy to go. But, as is the case with exchange marriages, keeping Chechi at home meant added complications. Vallyettan and Chettathi got along well unlike Chechi and her husband. If Chechi returned to her husband’s home, Chettathi’s mother would have help in the house and so both Vallyettan and Chettathi wanted her to go back. However, Chechi’s stand was that if her husband did not call her, she would not go. So Chettathi managed to coerce her brother to take his wife home. Makkuchettan, Chechi’s husband was not in the least happy about it but because of his sister’s appeal and partly because he felt that his sister’s marital life might get affected, he very grudgingly came and took Chechi back to his house. Nothing really changed except that Chechi got pregnant again and she returned soon after to deliver yet another baby girl. This time she was adamant that she would not go back and decided to learn sewing and to raise her two girls independently. So, the next year Kochettan bought her a sewing machine. Chechi started to sew blouses and children’s clothes and settled down with her daughters in our home at Kotthathala.
It was in December 1956, around the time Nirmala was born, that I was readying to travel to distant shores. Kochettan bought me one sari, a blouse and a petticoat. This was what I would wear to work. When I got the new set of clothes, I knew that I was finally going to Bombay. In my heart, I also knew that I was going to leave behind all that was familiar and dear to me. I was scared and excited at the same time. I was living a happy life with my mother, my friends, the ‘Samajam’ and cherished the status of being the Secretary of the committee. Yet, I was willing to give up all this to chase my dream. It was not going to be easy with no job, no means for higher studies, and being dependent on my brothers but I was hopeful that this journey that I was going to embark on would lead to a better life for all of us. This hope and the fact that I was going to be living with my brother and not with strangers, gave me courage and strengthened my resolve to leave the nest.