Who is or what is Vanross? Is that the name of a place, a person or a thing?
Yes, you guessed it right; Van Ross is the name of a Saip (white man in Malayalam); Vanross is the name of a road junction in Trivandrum.
More relevant to us than all the above, however, Vanross was how our home was known.
Our house was next to the Vanross House, a large European style building on a small hillock facing the road junction, said to have been built by one Mr. Van Ross, a long time ago. The road junction facing the building came to be known as the Vanross Jn.
By the time we started living next to the building, it was the headquarters of the Kerala Pradesh Congress Committee (KPCC). People used to say that Jawaharlal Nehru, our former Prime Minister, used to visit the KPCC office to participate in Congress committee meetings, and many a time, he used to rest under a mango tree that stood in its premises.
As children we were witness to many heated discussions and debates of Congressmen in a large thatched hall there. The property, later on, changed hands. The then USSR Government purchased it in 1969. A new complex was constructed after demolishing the old building to house the Soviet Cultural Center. After the Center closed down, it became the office cum studio of the TV Channel Asianet.
We had nothing to do with the naming of our home. My elder brother late Gangu had named it Vaishakh. But none of us preferred to call it Vaishakh. But once the original Vanross House was demolished, people went on calling our home Vanross, on their own. Perhaps they missed the original Vanross!
Before living in Vanross we had stayed in rented houses. Our mother got tired of moving from one rented house to another. She was worried about her grown up daughters studying in colleges, far away from our home. Our father finally agreed that she should look for a house of our own. In her daily evening walks accompanied by Ambi, our family friend, she started her search in right earnestness. Most of the days she returned, with disappointment writ largely on her face. However, one day she returned victorious, at last having stumbled on a house of her liking. She told us that the house was modest, but affordable. She convinced our father about its advantages.
Finally, the house plus its premises around it was bought for a princely sum of Rs.16,000/-
The house was a huge disappointment for us children. It was not a terraced modern building which we had imagined it to be. It was made of mud bricks! To us it looked like a mud boat from a distance. The rooms did not have sufficient light. The windows were small and old- styled.
There was no privacy; all rooms were open to each other. There was a shop in front, with tiled roof, next to the bathroom. The bathroom and toilet were in a corner, adjoining the compound wall. Any one from the neighborhood home could peep into them.
Our mother justified her decision by pointing out that the house was at an elevation, on the high side of the road in front; hence no water logging. It faced the east, supposedly the auspicious side. Besides, it was centrally located. The railway station and the Central Bus Depot were only about a couple of kilometers away. It was only walking distance from the Women's College where our elder sisters studied, as also the University College where our father served on the faculty. The boys’ school was also close by. Only the younger girls had some problem with their school being at a distance; She argued that within a year or two, they too may join the nearby college. Although our father initially had the same reservations, he didn't show it. He decided to remedy the situation.
Our father invested some money to carry out repair and renovation of the house. The old worn out tiles on the roof were replaced by new ones. The pillars supporting the roof and the walls were reinforced with concrete. The walls, doors and windows were given a new coat of paint. The floors were redone and polished. The pathway to the house from the gate and the back yard was concreted. A new set of bathroom and toilet was constructed.
As days passed by, we forgot our discomforts. Soon we started feeling the advantages-the house always remained cool, even when it was hot and humid outside. It was only a short distance away from our friends' homes. We could play badminton and other games in the open backyard. Vendors visited our home to sell their wares bought from near-by Palayam market. We could easily go by bus or walking anywhere. Soon we settled down to the rhythm of our new life and, in fact, started enjoying it.
The house had vines of Trumpet flower (Thunbergia laurifolia) spread all over the roof. The vines produced trumpet-shaped pale purple flowers, hanging in bunches from the roof. Bumble bees buzzed around, busy moving in and out of the hanging flowers (it made me wonder how nature has favored co-evolution to fit the bees perfectly into the receptacle of the flowers).
This gave the house the appearance of an Ashram (parnashala).
Vanross also had a small garden in front, with low green hedges on either side of the pathway. The dwarf coconut tree in front had started bearing golden-orange colored fruits, reflecting the rays of the rising sun. We had Hibiscus plants leaning on the front walls. In the corner was a "kilimaram" or Ficus which became a short tree with bushy branches, visited by a variety of birds. The red flowers of the Ixora plant in the corner, with bunches of red showy inflorescence, gave us great delight. We also had several seasonal plants.
At the back of the house we had two coconut trees, besides a neem tree. Branches of a Bread-fruit plant hung over the back wall, hiding the view of our home from the neighbor’s. The compound wall had fallen on one side. Mullumurukku (Erythrina) plants stood in a row to demarcate the boundary. Occasionally they produced bright orange flowers.
Vanross was a busy household. The house was indeed a beehive of activity. Besides our father's niece Rema, our paternal cousin Kuttan also stayed with us. Two other cousins, Sathi and Devi stayed in the near-by girls’ hostel. We four girls had our own, as well as common friends. Our neighbors too had large families. Bala and Lalitha from Chithi's (elderly widow) house and Geeta and Gatha, later Neelima, Jyothi, Jayshree and others from house behind were regular visitors. We also had neighbors like Nagalaxmi and Rajewari. Dr. Santhamma, her sisters Sophy, DR.Valsa and Laila too were regular visitors. Our friends Darley, Valsa and Anne visited us often. The sight of so many young girls coming out and walking into Vanross made people compare them to maidens in an ashram!
Our Uncle late K.R Warrier, aunt Madhavi (Matha Cheriyamma) and her children Unni, Chandrika, Shailaja and Kala too came to Vanross frequently. Elders and children from families of late KC Pillai, Prof. K Joshua, Prof. Krishna Variyar and late Madhava Menon were regular visitors.
My brothers Gangu, Unni and Mohan had their own circle of friends. Father being the Principal of the University College, Vanross was also visited by admission seekers, teachers and students. Many people used to come to invite our father for various functions. The shop in front was also a busy and a noisy place. Since it supplied spare parts for cars there was always a long row of cars parked in front.
Both our parents were early- risers. Father spent his time in deep thoughts or writing; sometimes he dictated articles and speeches. They were taken down by Lalitha, my sister, and myself (mostly myself). Mother spent her time in doing mundane chores. She was irritable and angry when her attempts to wake up the children and the helper were futile.
Since chemistry was his subject, father would tell us quietly that our mother had low blood sugar and we ought to give her some tea. Lo and behold! The moment she drank the tea she became deflated and normal! Her attention would soon be diverted to her beloved cows and the milkman who came early to milk the cows.
But she never forgot to keep the radio at full volume, in her final attempt to wake us up! Soon we would hear our names being called one by one by late K. C Pillai, a dear friend of our father, who used to visit our home during his morning rounds. My elder brother Gangu by this time would have fled to the backside of the house covering himself with his bed sheet, while the younger children hid themselves beneath mother's bed to escape his unwanted attention.
Father took great care of our health and hygiene. He ensured that we had a healthy and wholesome diet. He Insisted that we ourselves clean our bathrooms and toilets. He made us read newspapers and books. Mother took good care of the kitchen. Our food was very simple but well cooked. For breakfast we often had idli, or Dosa; sometimes we also had Appam or Puttu. We had helpers who stayed with us full time as a part of the family. Although they had to put up with mother’s scolding, the love of the children and the kindness of father more than compensated any hard feeling they might have passed through. Many a time we shared their burden, cooking dinner, making Dosas, making tea for visitors and washing vessels. Lunch time was a busy time for our mother. Besides her children, many others too joined us for lunch. There were always extra meals for those who came unannounced. It always seemed like a party.
On our father’s insistence on inclusion of protein in our diets, we regularly had Kanji (gruel) with thick or dry Mung Dal for dinner. Evening was our most active time. Some played badminton in the make-shift court on the backside. Gangu and others played football in Thycaud stadium. Unni and Mohan played with their friends. Mother had families visiting her. Sisters too had friends visiting them. By late evening we all assembled in the dining room or the drawing room. The radio will be on, blaring out news and music. We all eagerly waited for “listeners choice” of film songs, but took care to switch it off before father returned home! We had heated debates on a variety of topics, joined by our cousins. We looked forward to the visit of late Unni, our beloved cousin, who was was the heart and soul of those debates.
By the time father came back from office the house was all quiet, all of us devoting time for studies! Father’s coming home once again would activate the household. He spent quality time with us, reading loudly some parts of a book, or reciting a poem or telling us many interesting stories or discussing world events.
At night we used to find some shadows moving about. On investigation it turned out to be that our cousin Kuttan was giving lessons in Astronomy to Unni and Mohan!
In those days’ stars were clearly visible in the sky.
Vanross, incidentally, was not only a home to human beings; the other life forms too shared the space, making it a true ecosystem. I remember the hedge hogs making deep trenches into the foundation of our home; rats and mice flitted around; a variety of birds and insects visited the open space in front and at the back of the house. There was a lame crow which was a regular visitor to the kitchen side. Once I found a rat- snake slithering out of the dustbin in the office room. There were always croaking of frogs during the rainy season and sounds of crickets during nocturnal hours.
But the most prominent among the animals were a pair of cows and their calves. It can be said that our mother had a kind of emotional and spiritual bonding with them. She firmly believed that a cow, with all desired qualities, could bring prosperity to the household!
Our milkman Narayana Pillai played up to her sentiment. He was fair, with a thin and wiry countenance, and had black beard. He encouraged mother to trade the cows every time they stopped yielding milk and, in the process, made quick money as middleman. Rather than truthfully stating how much milk the new cow would give, he described to her its endearing qualities like its quiet nature, smooth skin and color, the white spot on its forehead and its harmless horns. Father, too busy with his research, dismissed her state of mind as ‘Sayoojyam’, meaning ‘blissful contentment’!
Apart from cows, occasionally we had to take care of the fowl from aunt’s house, till the time she and her family returned from their travels. Unni, who was a voracious reader would bring home books on care of fowl. The hens looking for a nook, where they could be assured of privacy, laid their eggs on rolled up mattresses or on top of cupboards in the backside room. The moment you try to lay down on bed there flew a hen up into the air, her feathers in a flurry, dropping an egg behind!
The birds from our aunt’s home provided much merriment to all.
How can we forget the pets Gangu brought to Vanross? The Gold fish which died on transfer to a hand-made pond, or the parrot that died in the dicky of his car, when we believed that it had flown away, or Jiji, the dog, claiming to be a dachshund (at least it had the shape of one)?
Although gifted to our milkman, it retained its loyalties towards us, and faithfully followed us all the way to college, much to the amusement of boys!
The description on Vanross would be incomplete without mentioning about our helper Madhavi Amma (Madiamma for short). She suffered from a mental ailment which made her talk to herself all the time. Occasionally, she used to abuse some people known to her, perhaps those who troubled her in the past. She was an outstanding cook, but only problem was that she chose her own timing for cooking. She cleaned the house thoroughly, when she was in a good mood.
Despite her mental issues we welcomed her, due to the quality of her work. She used to appear suddenly one day, and disappear after a few days. Occasionally, she refused to work using her time to make brooms out of coconut palm leaves. She was a law unto herself, but always caring and loving. I last saw her when my father died, standing with folded hands and weeping quietly, near the window of his room.
There were other women like Swarnam who brought headload of pure gingelly oil from Tamil Nadu to us; Narayani and Sarojini who used to walk miles carrying fresh vegetables on their heads; Pankajakshi, a spinster past her prime, who served us with dedication, and later, forced to marry her own sister’s husband. We can never forget Gouriamma and her daughter Kamalamma who looked after our deliveries and managed our babies. Plus, Janu and Unnama whom we always used to tease!!!
I thankfully remember all those women who sacrificed a good part of their life for us and made our lives comfortable.
It is not the case that only women were important to us. We gratefully remember Pappu Pillai who was with my father till his end; Parameswaran, father’s peon, who followed him by foot all the time, while he was Principal in the college. It’s also eminently worth mentioning is our tailor with a squeaky voice who had a shop on way to our college. Seeing us on the road, passing his shop he used to shout “round or square?’ referring to the shape of the neck of the blouses he was stitching for us! Who can forget the sad looking Dhobi, who was always late, to the fury of my mother on her way to her home by train, his rushing into the moving train to deliver the load, bringing relief to my mother’s face?
Years rolled by.
Our three sisters got married. Father retired from service. Brother Unni joined IIT Kanpur.
Eldest sister Indira joined us for some time when her husband went for higher studies. However, our parents were overjoyed by the arrival of their grandchildren. Deliveries of all their daughters were conducted in the Medical College, Trivandrum.
We got the greatest shock of our life when our beloved father passed away, after a brief illness. He had been our mentor and guide. His departure left a huge vacuum in our life, especially those of us living in Vanross at that time.
Our mother who was till then found a cozy shelter under father’s wings was suddenly shocked to get exposed to the new realities of life. But she carried on unafraid. Life at Vanross inevitably lost some of its former shine, after majority of people left.
I too joined the civil service and our youngest brother Mohan joined the Jawaharlal Nehru University for higher studies. Mother was left alone with brother Gangu. Relatives and family friends still came to Vanross. Late KC Pillai and KRV Pisharody, father’s closest friends, helped us whenever we needed it. Dr. Santhamma, Mrs. Joshua, Ms Sunitha and Ammini Kochamma regularly visited her. Dr. Santhamma was especially close to her. Late KR uncle was a pillar of support for us. One or the other of her children often visited mother.
Having nothing much to do, mother was at peace with herself. Mother sold a piece of land she had in the outskirts of the city and with the sale proceeds constructed a small apartment, with a shop below, in the front part of Vanross.
Although this addition was welcome, it did away the beautiful façade of Vanross. The front garden vanished. The vines were cut and removed, for they had grown strong and heavy, damaging the roof of the old house. Those violet flowers and the humming bees too disappeared. The Kilimaram too gave way to the new building.
With the coming of milk in polythene pouches the cows became a superfluity. Moreover, our milkman was too old to manage the cows. Soon, the cowsheds were dismantled. One by one the old Vanross lost its adornments. Whenever we visited mother, we stayed only in the cooler, older part of the house. Our only relief was that Mr. Mani who occupied the shop always came to assist us whenever we visited Vanross.
Then came towards our family a veritable bomb shell of sorts! Lalitha was diagnosed with cancer. Indira lost her daughter in a heart operation. Lalitha fought valiantly against the disease, but succumbed to it in 1989. Mother, who was always bold and unruffled before adversities could no longer remain unaffected. She too passed away in 1989, due to complications from diabetes.
For a brief period, our nephew Ranjit lived in Vanross, with his friends, when he was a student of Engineering College, Trivandrum. After completion of studies, he too left. Gangu, in the meantime had got married to Maya, a lecturer in College for Women, Trivandrum. They chose to live in their own house in Poojapura.
Gangu visited Vanross occasionally. After the birth of their two children, both Gangu and Maya died, one after the other, due to cancer. Only one of the employees of Gangu stayed in Vanross for some more time. He too left it after sometime.
The Mysterious Mr. Van Ross!!!
Recently, I came upon an old write up in the Indian Express dated 5th February 2009 about the mysterious Mr. Van Ross who built the original Vanross House. He was Arthur John Van Ross, who was the former Excise Commissioner of the Travancore State. Arthur’s father from Holland settled in Trivandrum many years ago in the golden age of Dutch trade in the East. Arthur married a local girl Stella Regina and had a son named Paul. Peter, David and Ernest are Paul’s children. According to Peter, Arthur could speak a smattering of Malayalam, so did his son Paul. But none of the grand children could speak Dutch or Malayalam. They spoke only English. They came on a visit to Kerala in 2009 to track their roots. According to Peter, his grandfather Arthur Van Ross did a lot of good things here, including stopping the drug trade. When he retired he was presented an ivory box with a gold plaque, still treasured by Peter. He was also presented with a golden garland, pieces of which were still with Peter. Arthur died of heart attack in 1959. He was buried in Pattoor cemetery in Trivandrum. After Arthur’s death, Stella sold the property. KPCC set up their office there. Peter lives in Sydney and his brothers in Manchester. Their father Paul is no more. Their mother Merlin was in Australia and had turned 90 in 2009.
For the first time after we occupied it, Vanross was without inhabitants. Whenever, I visited it I was feeling anxious if the roof would fall over me. During rains, water started flooding the new apartment.
Due to a boundary dispute, our neighbor had raised the height of the pathway beside the side-walls of our house. Water started seeping into the mud bricks and the foundation. The wood work was heavily damaged due to leakage of water through damaged tiles.
Vanross had become old and sick. I tried to do some damage control, but in vain. I realized that it requires lot of effort and money to rebuild it. None of us planned to live there permanently. Looking after the property was a huge headache.
By this time thanks to city development initiatives Vanross junction had become a hub of commercial activity, with hotels, shops and computer centers, business establishment crowding the area.
We, as visitors, no longer belonged to Vanross Junction or the Vanross house.
On my last visit to Vanross I found that it had started sinking (locals call it “sitting”). The roof had collapsed, the walls fell.
Yes, our beloved Vanross was dead. Like Sita Devi, the mud house sank deep into the Earth. Only the shop remained without any damage.
With a heavy heart we decided to sell Vanross. While handing over the keys of the Vanross my eyes were moist. It was as though Vanross was a person. It was strong, though old. It nurtured human and non- human beings in its lap. It stood with us through thick and thin. After sometime, passing through Vanross Jn., I found that the new part of Vanross was now a Departmental Store and the back portion, where we used to play, has been levelled and converted to a car park.
Although all of us left Trivandrum for good, we decided to have a footing there. We purchased an apartment, not far away from Vanross, with the money we got by selling Vanross.
One day, on a sudden impulse, I got a name plate made with the letters “Vanross” written boldly on it, and, got it nailed on the front-door of the apartment.
Standing behind me, at that precise moment, our neighbor asked me in astonishment “Who is or what is Vanross? Well, --- -------------------
