Chapter Three
The Family Grows
Let’s return now, to the main story where my mother takes center stage. Amma had grown up in an erudite family. Many members of her family were educated, knew Sanskrit, practiced Ayurveda and were philanthropists. In keeping with Govinda Warrier’s offer to her uncles, Amma came to Kottathala with very few material possessions. However, she brought with her the wealth of knowledge and the several skills she had acquired from growing up in a household that valued education. Chief among these skills was the art of dispensing Ayurvedic eye medicines and this became something that would help sustain her family in the years to come. Govinda and Devaki Devi settled down and started their family life. Their first son was born shortly after this. He was named Unnikrishna. Three years later they had another son who they called Ramachandra. Their innings as full-fledged parents had begun.
One day Amma dressed up her three-year old Unnikrishna to look like his namesake, the Lord Krishna and set him free. He was playing near the temple while Amma got busy with her younger baby. Left on his own, Unni walked across to the small but deep pond near the temple and fell into it. Some children were playing around the pond, and seeing the little child in the water, called out for help. No one knows exactly how long the toddler was in the water. A passing labourer helped to fish Unni out. What left everyone surprised was that the child had not swallowed any water. When the cries that there was a child from the Warriem in the pond reached Amma, she came running and reclaimed the baby from the man who was carrying him. The child was peaceful and fast asleep, and onlookers were astounded at the sight. The villagers attributed the miracle to the way the child was dressed as though this had perforce brought with it, divine protection.
Ramachandra or Kochettan, the younger of my two older brothers was still on breast milk when Amma had to help to feed another baby. Achan’s Vallyammavan’s daughter had had a caesarean delivery. The young mother was not informed that she had to breast feed the child immediately and so by the time the baby was given to her, her milk had dried up. Since Amma was breast feeding, the extended family brought little Mohanan to Amma. For the rest of his infancy, Kochettan got only one breast of milk and of course, Amma carried this guilt throughout her life. As Kochettan grew, Amma would try to save milk ‘payasam’ for her beloved Rama. Much later in life, Amma made me promise that after she died, I would remember to give Kochettan cream and milk and ‘payasam’ whenever possible, on her behalf.
My parents’ third child was a baby girl Sharada and the fourth was Anandavalli. I was the fifth in line. I was born the night before Shivaratri under the zodiac sign of ‘Pooradam’ in the ‘Kumbh masam’. Amma’s mother Kochu Parvathy had come to help with the delivery. My ammuma or grandmother made it a point to be there for all of Amma’s deliveries and every single one of us were born at home. Early that morning, Amma was getting really uncomfortable and Ammuma got her ready for the delivery in the makeshift labour room. This was the place behind the kitchen where the paddy was pounded. Achan sat outside the labour room on the verandah so that he could get immediate news of the birth. This was so that he could draw the birth chart as soon as he heard the words “the baby is delivered”.
In the midst of this setting, an unexpected visitor walked into the house early that morning. Amma’s father dropped in out of the blue. “Devooo” he called and entered the house searching for Amma. He reached the back of the house before he saw Govinda Warrier. He was informed that both Amma and Ammuma were in the labour room. My grandfather started pacing outside. He had come despite being in a tearing rush and it was as if he had needed to see Amma and go. In half an hour, the cries of the baby could be heard. Ammuma peeped out and declared my birth with the words “Govinda Warrier, Devaki ‘prasavichu’ (has delivered). It’s a girl.” Achan quickly picked up his pencil and paper and noted the time, consulted the ‘panchangam’ or the Malayalam calendar and quickly sketched the birth chart. At the same time my grandfather reached the door and quickly measured the shadow to see the time. The 15-foot long shadow indicated it was around 7.30 am. Inspired by the moment to write verse, my grandfather took hold of Achan’s pencil and went up to the nearby wall of the ‘chavadi’ or the part of the house where the men usually spent their free time. Appupan had probably decided not to waste any more time looking for a piece of paper and perhaps also felt that he might lose his spontaneous creation, so he just wrote his poem on the wall and there it remained for several years.
The poem started with a love-filled invocation to Lord Shiva, the one who adorns himself with the crescent moon, to seek his grace. After recording the time and date of birth, the poem went on to say that the radiant Devaki Devi had given birth to a blessed baby, who would go on to imbibe the strength of the goddesses and always hold a special place in her grandfather’s eyes.
After this emotional, heartfelt gesture, Appupan also pointed out that since my birth had taken place towards the end of the zodiac sign and month (the ‘thun kaal’) there was a ‘thaan dosham’. This would technically mean that either I or a sibling could lose our life. Thus, it was that my grandfather came, visited and wrote the poem and went away without even drinking water, as if he had been fated to come just to inscribe those lines. Many years later I woke up early one morning and told my mother “Amme your father has passed away” Amma screamed and came to beat me in anger and Kochettan stopped her. “Just because she has said something, it doesn’t mean it will happen Amme. Think of it as if she is up to mischief.” A few days after this incident, the letter came with the news confirming that my grandfather had actually passed away at that very time. Of course, Amma blamed it on my ‘black tongue’. Years later Kochettan reminded me of that incident and I was sure that it was because of the connection of our souls that I knew when my grandfather had made his transition into the next world.
That was later though. Let’s return for now to the beginning of my life... The day after I was born Amma suffered severe chest pain. Four people lifted her cot and they carried her for a distance of two and a half miles to the Kottarakara Government hospital where Achan had decided that she should be taken. Ammuma picked me up, a day-old baby and followed them, and so did Achan. The door to our house was left wide open and the neighbours came and looked after the children and the house. Achan was an office bearer in the local village committee and so he always got a lot of support from the villagers. The neighbours all rallied around. That was how it was at that time. At the hospital, the doctor realised that Amma’s problem was just gas. Simple medication worked and the entourage returned home.
Two years later Amma gave birth to a male child. He was named Achuthan and he was followed in a couple of years by a girl child. She was named Subhadra in memory of Amma’s half-sister Subhadra, who had died at the tender age of 18 of a fever. Another two years and Amma had her last child Radhamani, later known only as Radha. Ammuma was there with Amma for all eight deliveries. Poor Ammuma, without account or fight as one would say in Malayalam. We are eternally grateful for the help that she gave her daughter and our mother. When Radha was born, Achan wrote the ‘jadagam’ or the horoscope and said that this girl will be smart, but her father will not live to see this. The child was born in the ‘Achan kaal’ of that zodiac. This meant that around the time the child was two and a half years old, he would die. And that’s what happened. When Achan died there were only seven surviving children. Sharada chechi had died when she was about six years old. This was within a year of my birth, so the sibling ‘dosham’ (‘thun kaal’) had kicked into action. My sister Subhadra said later that she had heard Amma say that Sharada died jumping over the barricade built to keep the small children from getting out of the house and that she hit her nose when doing that. My memory of what was said about the cause of Sharada chechi’s death is that someone had thrown a stone to drop mangoes from the tree and that a stone hit little Sharada on her forehead. Whatever the cause, it was very unfortunate that she died. I remember very little of my older sister except that she was sharp-tongued and a very active child and deep down, I have always felt a twinge of regret that they were my birth stars that foretold her death.