A day
in Malappuram
Roaring trucks, speeding rickshaws - these are the first
impressions of my hometown, Malappuram. Here the day starts early. The wakeup call comes at around 5:00 in the
morning when the mosques call people to pray and the temples
play their devotional songs.
The
air is fresh. The fragrance of moist earth wafts in the breeze.
The tea is hot and the people here are glancing through the
newspapers for some hot news. The tea shops are the hub of
activities here.
Breakfast is
served early. It is a regular sight to see young children in
purdahs and musalman caps marching towards the madrassas with
slates and books.

It is around 8:00
when the village ponds flourish. The water is usually pumped
through a motor and someone sensibly cut across a water-lane
system to the coconut and palm trees. So when humans bathe, the
trees also get water.
The coconut
climber with his kit sings around his political thoughts to an
80-year old grandma. Though she can barely hear, she pretends to
be a good listener.
The children are
back home from the madrassas. The buffaloes are taken out to
graze. The auto rickshaws and jeeps start their day with routine
trips. The office-goers are always in need of them as
government buses are rare here.
Peacocks dance
only when it rains. So do these buses - they rarely make
successful trips without breaking down. They are aptly called 'Mayil-vahanam'
or 'Peacock buses'.
It's 11.00
a.m. I see the
fishmonger cooing around. He knows exactly where he can get the
best business. He always seems to be busy on his cell phone,
talking to is colleagues at the harbor and getting regular
updates on the sea conditions and the catch. [It's no wonder
that Malappuram has the highest mobile phone subscription in
Kerala.] He has developed the habit of feeding cats with
tiny fishes. Dogs are rarely found here and cats are the usual
household pet.

source:
www.namboothiri.com
The traditional
Hindu families here are usually the jewelers, money lenders,
grocers and the temple priests. Most of them are commonly called
Nairs and each village has its own Nair peedya (shop), Nair tea stall
and a few Nair toddy shops too. The Nair men usually get
together around the banyan tree in the temple courtyard.
The Hindus and
Muslims here have a special bond and have great mutual respect
for each other. Christians are few, known for their kindness at
the schools and the hospitals.
It's noon...its
calm and green. The kids usually spend the afternoons playing on
the trees and plucking mangoes. Its lunchtime. With the crows
cawing, guests are usually expected. Its time for the Mullahs
and the Ustads to have lunch. Families take turns to provide
them with one meal a day. At the school, its game time. The kids
are seen dirtying their dresses in every possible way.

Its time for a
small nap.
its 3. I try to go
out - into the town. the second business phase slowly begins
with fresh fish coming. Every vehicle here has its own way
and it looks as if all the roads have been laid by their
fathers. The stereos and the woofers make strange noises and
they make sure everyone knows its a Pioneer audio system that's
playing.
Slowly after
buying their fresh catch, its time to go into the football
fields. Matches have already been scheduled and patrolling jeeps
and vehicles blare the day's matches from big speakers. Its a
game of nerves and even though it doesn't matter who wins or
loses, the spirit of competition provides a lot of entertainment
for the village crowd. Football matches are never played in
stadiums or grounds, but in fields - fields that yield rice at
harvest, and after that yield great players. The money is
usually pumped in by a few Gulf returns who in order to prove
their worth, fall into the sponsorship trap.

Its around 6. Its
time to clean the body and go to the Mosques. In traditional
Hindu families, a beautiful scene is being played out as
beautiful young women carry lit lamps around their Nalukettus
(traditional homes) chanting 'Deepam, deepam'. After prayer, its
news time. The radio and the television capture the attention.
While walking back
home, one hears young kids mugging up their daily lessons - some
religious and some academic, and the soft lullabies to put young
ones to sleep.
Its early to rise,
so its early to bed. Its a heavy and a happy dinner at homes
where their sons have returned. For the rest, memories of their
loved ones working hard in distant lands haunt them.
Machaan
More
on Malappuram by the author -
The
Malappuram Chronicles