Here is NK Sreedhar’s 2nd post. This time it is a real life account, with the names changed, of course. Please be generous with your comments to encourage him. – Sukumar

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It was a brisk spring morning. The streets were painted yellow by the Cassia fistula tree in full bloom. You can smell the new season in the air. My friend Vivek and I were riding a bike on our way to class this morning. We were in our 2^nd year in college and in a few weeks it will be our final semester exams. Needless to say, that wasn’t the thought on our minds.

As we rode through the entrance gate, the ever unhappy Somu, the security guard, greeted us with his stoic face. “College closed today, sir”, he said. What, now! We couldn’t be having a strike! “Why bother! It’s not like we attend many classes other than the majors”, Vivek suggested. Still, the thrill of ‘bunking’ classes is lost when college is closed.

As we got near our department, we saw all our friends huddled around and chatting in a low hushed voice. “What’s up, who died?” was the first sarcastic remark that came out of my mouth. I was only in my 2^nd year and they were teaching ‘etiquette’, ‘how not to be a smart ass’, ‘avoiding foot in mouth’ etc. only in the 3^rd year. There was widespread shock in all my friends’ faces. Raj said, “Angel passed away this morning”. I knew then what a blow to the head felt like. Angel is one of the sweetest girls in our class. She is down to earth, highly pious and a quiet girl, who kept to herself most of the time. Being in the seat right behind her for most of 2^nd year, I picked on her a few times and she was always calm and collected. She always said, “Christ is with me. I don’t get annoyed”.

There were so many questions swirling in my mind. How did this happen? Why her? She was young and had so much to achieve. I was frustrated with how fragile life was. I wasn’t going to cry in front of my friends, but I was close to it multiple times. As we drove to her house, Raj pulled me aside and said “the news is, she committed suicide”. “Suicide! Why? She didn’t seem unhappy when we left her yesterday”, was all I could think about. You think you know someone well, but, looks like we didn’t know her at all. My mind was totally blank. This is the 2^nd death to a classmate and I was too young to remember the first one (3^rd grade).

Angel’s house was inside the church. Her parents served the church and lived in a house inside. As we tried to get in, most of our department was already there outside. We were told that there wasn’t going to be an open coffin as Angel sustained severe damage when she burnt herself down. Some of us were really furious. Why didn’t she talk to any of us if she had problems! We would have helped her.

After the funeral, we were all there in a friend’s house. All of us wanted to talk to Vicky, Angel’s best friend. If something was bothering Angel, Vicky would have known about it. Vicky was crying inconsolably. When she recovered, in between bouts of crying, Vicky explained to us that Angel was in love with Ed. Ed was in his first year of becoming a ‘brother’ in the same church. He was going to give it all up to marry Angel. Angel was going to tell her parents the previous night and get their approval. Apparently, Angel was scared about how the church and her parents would take it.

It was very hard to imagine the ever smiling, calm Angel going through this and not telling anyone. Did her parents not approve of Ed, was she worried about what others would think, was she worried about Ed being pulled from priesthood – we could only contemplate without knowing what happened.

If all this was all shocking and overwhelming, nothing prepared us for what was to come two days later. The police were investigating into Angel’s death. Apparently, Ed lodged a complaint that there was some foul play. They exhumed her body and found that Angel was pregnant. They also found that she was force-fed kerosene. Angel’s parents were arrested for killing her by burning her alive.

We were unable to understand why one’s own parents would do this! Why would someone kill their own daughter and grand child? – Just because she was pregnant! Was their image in society more important to them than their own flesh and blood? Why was it acceptable to be called a murderer rather than facing society for an out-of-wedlock child?

Many of the parents felt that it was better to go down for murder than to face their daughter bring ill-repute to the family name. As Angel says “Christ is with her”.

23 years ago, my grand father – S. Krishnaswamy Iyer – passed away. It was towards the end of March 1985. My 10th grade Board Exams were in full-swing. He died on the eve of my Science exam. For some strange reason, that’s how I’ll always remember him.

My Math exam was over in the morning & thatha (grandpa) was “quizzing” me out to see if I had any chances of getting 110 out of 100 (yeah, you read that right). No, I had made a mistake & could only score 97 (bang on). “Why do you make so many mistakes?” he wondered. “I just made 1!” I bristled. “That’s one too many” he retorted. He was of the firm opinion that if only I tried harder, I’ll inherit Albert Einstein’s crown Much to his grief, I had too many new-fangled “artsy-fartsy” interests.

He was our maternal grandpa. We called him “Madurai Thatha” to differentiate him from our paternal grandpa Venkatarama Iyer (“Arcot Thatha”). We lived in Thanjavur at that time. Madurai Thatha & Patti (grandma) had “immigrated” to Thanjavur to be close to us & they visited often.

Patti was a fun-loving, adventurous, happy go-lucky woman who loved the unknown. Thatha was a tight-lipped, disciplined, highly introverted man & was deeply suspicious of anything new. Patti broke into songs extempore, often making them up on the fly. Once in a blue moon, thatha sang devotional songs exclusively to Lord Shiva. Patti gossiped, cracked jokes & was very popular. Thatha was intense and – well, dreaded or avoided.

An unlikely couple, they were deeply attached to each other & shared a few traits: bold as brass & tough as nails. They thought only sissified gentry whined about pain. To this day, in our family, pain-bearing is practiced as an art form. Mom had a uterine biopsy done – without anaesthesia. I hardly ever take novocaine for dental procedures. If you curl your toes & arch your back in a certain way resolutely, most pains become bearable.

See, my maternal grandparents needed all the pain-bearing capacity they could muster. They came from poor, hard-scrabble families & worked very hard to earn a living. Sometimes, they had to go without food – so that their 4 children could eat. This is all the more sad because my grandpa was a Magistrate – not a manual laborer who had to eke out a living. Surmounting all these odds, they were very happy. Probably because of this early struggle – my mother always makes enough food for a small army. Even a scintilla of doubt on whether she’ll run out of food – is unbearable for her.

Thatha looked very different from the other Brahmin men in Thanjavur. He had a translucent peaches & cream complexion, gray eyes, an almost M.C.Escher-ish huge forehead (“sun-shade” forehead – I have a slightly abridged version, BTW), a long & narrow face (“Tumbler” face – I have it too!) & a huge nose roughly the size & shape of Saudi Arabia (Good grief! I have it too). In the pre-independence days, people called him “The White Indian”. He hailed from Calicut, Kerala – that’s where Vasco da Gama landed. I’ve read that they “really admired” Malayali women. You put 2 & 2 together Some day, I’ll look for my “Lisbon Cousins”! My mother will have conniption fits if she reads this, though.

He was an honest magistrate. Even in those days, honesty didn’t make much business sense. He was a stickler for discipline & took a principled stance on everything. He made no exceptions & expected none. If someone made a mistake, however small, the proscribed action will be taken. He was a walking rule-book. He was affectionately & fearfully given the moniker, “Gedudpidi Krishnaswamy” (Rigorous Krishnaswamy). Nothing & nobody scared him. Not even attempts made on his life.

I wonder if Gedupidi (as he was called) knew the meaning of fear. As far as I’ve heard, he was fearless. To him, all were equal before the eyes of the law. Some of his judgments crippled the local mafia – and for the next few weeks, he needed a body-guard. For hit-men with guns, knives & sickles had been dispatched to “take care” of him & settle accounts.

Of course, piddly things like attempts on his life only strengthened his resolve. In the 1940s, there was a severe short-supply of rice & wheat. The government ruled that nobody could invite more than 50 guests to their wedding party. A scion of Annamalai Chettiar (whose family still owns most of Chennai!) got married – Thatha & his team counted the number of used dinner plates in the venue! And coolly arrested Chettiar – probably one of the richest men in India at that time – and threw him behind bars, for flouting the law. To his full credit, Chettiar didn’t resist his arrest & lauded my thatha for his honesty.

Reading “The Hindu” out loud was thatha’s prescription for attaining fluency & command of English. He’ll call me everyday & ask me to read the headlines to him – Oh, I was fuming. How utterly dorky. And I’ve never had problems with English. (Hindi though was a different matter.) The Hindu. And oh, “Wren & Martin” for grammar. My father, a professor of English who specialized in ELT (English Language Teaching) looked askance at Wren & Martin, an outdated book. “Grammarian’s Funeral!” – he used to mumble.

“What is this?” grumbled thatha, when he looked at my paint box. “Art!! Painting never pays the bills. Why don’t you read “Jane Eyre”?” My father pounced on him – “Mama (Father-in-law), Priya already reads more than what’s good for her. She’s read Jane Eyre already! I don’t want her to be a mad scientist or an absent-minded professor”. Thatha looked at his son-in-law sadly – “You are a professor, so you know best. This child here (Child! I was 10 at that time) has more capacity. We can push her more”. Dad scowled & muttered – “For Christ’s sake! Can’t my daughter dabble with art? She’s way too geeky already”. I was deeply saddened – nobody thought I was kewl.

Thatha used to drive us all mad with his notions on punctuality. If he had to catch a train at 6 PM, he’ll be at the station at 4 PM! Once our doctor made the grave mistake of giving thatha an appointment at 7 AM. In those days, doctors converted the front-room of their house to a clinic. What do you know, thatha arrived promptly at 5 AM The doctor had to wake up, let his “guest” in & go back to bed, grumbling all the time. Thatha didn’t mind waiting for 2 hours for an appointment. But going late! That would be totally unthinkable. Worse than death.

He had modern views on women’s emancipation. He insisted on all his daughters getting at least a Master’s degree – this in the 1950s. He also ensured that they had a job – nay, career! None of them quit their jobs to get married or have kids. In the 1930s (when patti became a blushing bride), women seldom spoke to men or made eye contact with them. And thatha’s many male friends & colleagues paid visits everyday. Thatha hated women who were shrinking violets. Much to his relief, patti conducted herself with the decorum befitting a magistrate’s wife. She had cleared 8th grade – an amazing feat in those days – and could hold her own among his male friends & chat intelligently on various topics.

Thatha insisted on discipline & self-control. Alien topics for my brother Oh Lord, how he tested thatha’s patience. My brother never used the stairs to get to the next floor, if he could help it. There was always an opportune pipe, a sun-shade, a tree, a window – a foot-hold of some sort. I think he finally mastered the art of using the stairs when he was well on his 30s – when lumbar pain descended, that is. He was the only person that could make thatha tear his hair, gesticulate wildly & holler. Well, my brother had that effect on everyone.

“Why do you allow him to misbehave?” – thatha will ask mom, foaming with anger. Allow! What did he mean – its not like my brother was begging my mom for permission! My brother made a face at thatha & chanted “Thatha, Kotha, Growth of a plant!”. It was just a nonsense phrase, but thatha’s face turned purple whenever he heard that refrain.

And now, here was my brother in the garden. He was carving on our Mango tree – “S.K. Iyer, a good soul passed away today”. I had my science exam the next day.

I was 15 years old. I’d never seen anyone – leave alone a family member – die before my eyes. Tender mercies – I won’t describe how he died or how we ascertained he was no more. One of his admirers brought a garland for his funeral – and the cloying smell of flowers – especially roses filled the air. It took me 6 months to come to terms with flowers, particularly roses.