Do you happen to have a mother other than your biological mother? Yes, I did have two---one was our grandma (foster- mother of our own mother, who brought her/us up) and the other was ‘Chithi’ (mother’s sister in Tamil), an old woman who was once our neighbour. I already narrated the story of our grandma in one of my blogs.
Unlike the other two mothers, I came across Chithi much later in life, precisely when I was about to enter college. At about that time my father purchased an old house along with some land in the heart of the city, to make it convenient for us four sisters to attend college, without any hassles. Chithi was the sister of the property owner. Her husband was bed-ridden withbroken back, after having fallen from a jack tree, while climbing it to pluck jackfruits. She had 14 children, but I think only eight survived. By the time renovations were carried out in our house, and we moved in, her husband had passed away.When we met her after her husband’s demise, she maintained a stoical calm.
Chithi was a saintly figure. She resembled ‘Auvayaar’, the ancient saint-poet of Tamil Nadu. There was always a golden glow (Sanskrit-tejas) on her face, as if some inner fire was illuminating it.
Our house stood on the elevated side of the road, while Chithi’s house was at further elevation, behind our home. There used to be a by-lane on the side of our home that led to her house. The mud boundary wall between our backside and the by-lane had fallen, giving us children free access to her house.
Chithi’s elder son worked as a Personal Assistant in the RashtrapathyBhavan (official residence of the President of India). Her second son was employed in a private company in Bombay. Her eldest daughter was married and settled outside Kerala. Chithi’s remaining five children stayed with her. The eldest among the five,Janardanan, was athletic. He was a member of India’s Olympic Hockey team. Next to him two daughters-- Bala and Lalitha excelled themselves in studies, as well as in classical music. Lalitha, in addition, was a graceful classical dancer too. The youngest two boys played with my brothers.
Chithi and her children lived in a thatched house. It ideally suited Kerala’s sultry weather, for, it was always airy and cool. It had the peace, serenity and quietude of an ashram. We jokingly used to say that Chithi, with the help of Andrew, a local labourer and her Man Friday, built the house, room by room, by mixing mud and water, with their own hands!
It was a mystery to us as to how Chithi managed her finances. Having no income of her own, she had quietly struggled along. Perhaps her sons helped her or her husband might have left her somesavings. Nevertheless, ‘she received with pride the gift of poverty the Lord had bestowed on her” (to quote a famous poet).
Her hockey-playing, son who was a small-time employee, soon got married and shifted elsewhere. It is a pity that a former Olympic Hockey player’s family had to struggle to earn a living! I recollect that one of the side rooms in the hutment was full of trophies and mementoes acquired by her son Janardanan, not displayed for publicity or to win admiration. They used to shine brightly, as if crying out for recognition, in the dimly lit room.
Chithi did all household chores herself, leaving her children time for their studies. Perhaps work was a sort of prayer or meditation for her! Her house was spic and span, not a speck of dust anywhere. To her credit Chithi ensured that both her talented younger daughters completed post-graduation with first- class- first rank.
After coming back from our colleges or schools we children used to run to meet Chithi. She used to warmly welcome us. Knowing that we were hungry she used to give us rice balls-made of cooked rice, gingelly oil and boiled and mashed stems of Haddi-jod plant (English-Stemmed- wine, botanical name- Cissus quadrangularis) which used to grow as matted vines hanging all over the backside veranda of her home. She got rid of its itchiness by mixing it with bitter-lemon pickle. Occasionally, she made idlisor Ada. (Despite the low protein diet Chithi and her children were healthy). Those simple offerings served with so much affection used to fill our hearts and stomachs. She patiently listened to our complaints, shared our anxieties and worries, quietened us when we were angry or in a bad mood, laughed with us. She was a woman of few words. Whenever, she spoke it made sense. She never said a bad word or scolded us. Her word was command for all of us, including her children.
Came Monsoon, lower parts of the city, where poor people lived in their makeshift huts, used to be flooded, for Trivandrum is a city of undulating terrain with hills and depressions. Chithi invited the poor people to stay on the veranda, and a large room used to be specially vacated for them. She cooked gruel (Kanji) for them served along with pickles or some vegetable. She shared with them whatever little she could afford- either some provisions or old clothes.It taught me something which I would not forget-even people with limited means help others who are needier than themselves. She silently listened to their worries. She was a Tamil Brahmin, yet she was untouched by traditional prejudices towards people who are treated as lower class or castes. Afterwards, when I used to accompany her and my mother on their evening- walks, I used to find ordinary people rushing to her with folded hands, or touching her feet in reverence.
In summer, all her children settled outside Kerala used to visit her, along with their families. Suddenly, her house became lively with laughter and music. The eldest son used to bring his North-Indian cook along. He used to cook roti and dal which Chithi happily shared with us. This was our first introduction to Chapati! At dusk time the entire family (sisters, brothers, daughter’s in-law and children) used to assemble in the middle room, sitting on the floor, singing classical devotional music, in unison, in praise of Laxmi, Saraswati and other Hindu Gods and goddesses. Chithi remained absorbed it, with her eyes closed. The traditional lamp, lit in the middle, played light and shadows on the walls. We children stood transfixed, peeping through the windows on the Veranda, witnessing this mesmerising scene. It was truly an uplifting experience. No wonder Mahakavi Vallathol wrote that the great rishis may have lived in humble hutments made of wasted grass and dried- up leaves, but the gems we got from them were indeed priceless, not available anywhere else.
A few years passed by. Chithi’s younger sons left for their brother’s places in search of employment. Bala got married. Only Lalitha remained with her. During this time, we unfortunately had a boundary dispute with Chithi. But she maintained the same warm relations with us. As usual, we used to run to her house after coming home from school or college. We children didn’t want to have any quarrel with her. But we knew that she was deeply distressed.
But soon destiny itself solved the problem. One day Chithi was looking pensive. She hugged all of us and told us that she would be selling her house soon. We could not believe that she would be going away. She explained that she had to sell the house, as Lalitha was getting married to a rich businessman. Brahmin marriages in South India being expensive, she had no other option, but to sell her house.
Chithi soon sold the property to a local well-to-do trader. One fine morning she left us, climbing down the stairs of her home of several decades, passing through the by-lane. That was the last we saw her. We knew that we would never meet her again.
Soon other events over took us in our life. Our home was now an empty cage, with all birds having flown away. My work took me to distant places, and her memory receded into the deepest recesses of my heart. Once I went to Kerala, I came to know that she had passed away. The child in me cried out “No, Chithi can never leave us”.
I have the Haddi-jod plant (called in Malayalam Creeping/spreading Chain) in our garden. It boasts of no showy flowers, no luscious fruits, but can offer only its fibrous stem full of calcium and other minerals. It gives sustenance as food to people like Chithi who must make use of every resource that nature provides, to keep both ends meet; its juice is used as medicine for treating a number of common ailments. The crushed stem is used in bone-setting (hence its name). How much Chithi like the plant is! I would like to believe that this plant in my garden is her reincarnation!
Chithi, the simple woman, lived an ascetic life. I have hardly seen her spending time on elaborate pujas typical of Brahmin households. Nevertheless, she followed the rules of dharma (righteousness). Spiritual, self-dependent, generous to others despite her limited means, equanimous, non-discriminatory- you can describe her in many ways. She didn’t forcibly teach us anything; we learned from her. As the Bible says ‘Such people are rare---they are the salt of the earth”. She was a mother to everyone.
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