TALES FROM THE CAPITAL CITY - XXIV

LOST MEMORIES

The poomukham of the house - photographed by my uncle Kumar on a rainy day.

Pillavilakathu Veedu, my paternal grandmother’s ancestral home at Manacaud was not different from any other old houses. Built in the mid-nineteenth century, the house was a typical ‘nalukettu’, with a poomukham projecting out from the main living block. The house, with its massive lime plastered brick columns, the old terracotta flooring and the dark room with the smell of old books is etched in my childhood memories.

I was not born in this house, nor did my father have any right over the house or its property. Long ago, a piece of land adjoining this house was given to my grandfather by his father-in-law, however, it was sold off and he moved away from his wife’s ancestral house. However, I was always connected to this house, with the unbreakable emotional bond of love and care. In my childhood, I saw the old house in the last days of its fading glory, when it was still occupied by the families of my three grand uncles. My father’s eldest uncle R. Krishnaswamy and his family occupied the central block, the old portion of the house with the courtyard. Two later additions, the new blocks added by Krishnaswamy’s younger brothers flanked the two sides of the old house.

The padippura - watercolour painting by the author, 2008

The house brings in a thousand scattered images to my mind, the padippura, the poomukham,  the dusty attics, the dark rooms filled with memories from the past, trunks, which had not been open since the death of its owners, old Anchal cards that told the stories of many gone generations etc. One memorable face is that of my grand uncle R. Krishnaswamy. Lovingly addressed as ‘Kishammavan’ by my parents; our ‘Kishammava Appuppan’ is a man I will never forget in my life. How can I ever forget him, when his face is deeply etched in my first memories? One could never forget the taste of the ‘tomato curry and bread’ Kishammavan and his wife served us; never can I forget the music sessions in the poomukham, where I experimented with his harmonium.

The poomukham - watercolour painting by the author, 2008.

Last Deepavali night, after we had dinner at Buhari, my friend and I were about to return home. I asked him to take the route via Manacaud so that I can get a glimpse of the old house from the road. As we approached the house, I lifted my head, waited for the expected view, of the old house sandwiched between my grand uncles’ houses. However, to my amazement (and horror), I found out that the old house was not there! In its place was a new house. On my return home I asked my mother, “What happened to our old house at Manacaud?” Without looking at me, she replied casually, “Oh you don’t know? They demolished the old house and built a new one there, the new owners of the property”. That is when I realized that my favourite memories were lost- forever.

Sharat Sunder Rajeev,

2013.

Links:http://www.geni.com/people/R-Krishnaswamy-Pillavilakathu Veedu/6000000007708507456

TALES FROM THE CAPITAL CITY - XXIII

IN THE BANKS OF PADMATHEERTHAM

February 6, 2000; it was a Sunday, the day for attending the drawing classes at Chitrakalamandalam. Chitrakalamandalam, the art school was then housed in an old ottupura on the northern side of Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple. As a history freak, it was an unforgettable experience attending the drawing class in the old building. I still remember the dark cellar by the side of the courtyard, where we kept our drawing paper and paint brushes, the huge kalthotti and the wooden bed with beautifully carved legs. Many of the rooms were closed and were accessible only to the temple and palace officials and we kids used to peep through the keyhole, hoping to find some treasure chest inside the dark rooms.

Yes, it was February 6, 2000, and that day I was not in a mood to attend the drawing lessons. I went to my father’s studio and in the afternoon I coaxed him to take me to the Fort, to the banks of Padmatheertham, where there was an old man who sold coins and other interesting stuff. As we entered the Fort premises we could sense trouble, a crowd had gathered around Padmatheertham tank. Some of them seemed sad, some of them were arguing with others. The police were trying hard to remove the crowd from the banks of the tank. On one corner stood a group of old men, silently staring at the tank, I could see deep sorrow and disbelief in their eyes.

By then someone told my father that a man was drowned to death in the Padmatheertham!

The next day newspapers carried the shocking news on the front page. We, the residents of Thiruvananthapuram had not relieved from the shock. For us, Padmatheertham was the most sacred tank, an embodiment of spiritual purity, and now a man was murdered in the same sacred tank!

The temple and the tank in the 1900s - Photograph taken by Royal Photographer
J.B. D'cruz.

The old folk of Thiruvananthapuram who live in the precincts of the temple had an intimate association with the temple tank. For some, the tank and its banks were a favourite ‘hangout’, where they would gather with like age group to discuss all things under the sky. Years back, when the temple tank was free from the ugly railing surrounding it, the old folk used to spend hours sitting in the steps and the small mandapams around the tank. The serene waters of the tank, with the reflection of the pagoda and the smell of camphor and incense, imparted a divine ambience. Later, the authorities installed an iron railing around the tank and the pilgrims and visitors were charged to enter the mandapams and to take a dip in the tank. This physical barrier brought about a distance between the tank and the people. The newer generation lacked the ‘intimate’ relation the seniors shared with the tank. Time went by; the tank which was once known for its purity had begun to stink!

 Seniors 'hangout' in the banks of Padmatheertham (1970s)- Photograph from the private collection of K. Hari.

How old is Padmatheertham?

No one seems to have a correct answer; however, no one is doubtful about the antiquity associated with the tank, for it finds mention in ancient works regarding the temple and the temple town. The tank must be as old as the temple itself.

Ananthapuravarnanam (12th-13th century work) gives us a long list of sacred ponds once associated with the Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple and other sacred shrines within its precincts. Indratheertham (Attakulam), Brihutheertham (Manacaud Sree Dharma Sastha temple pond), Agnitheertham (Agneeshwara temple pond), Varahatheertham (Sree Varaham temple pond), Dakshina Ganga (Thekkanamkara canal), Agasthyakundam (Mithranandapuram temple pond), Kanvatheertham (Chettikulam), Varunatheertham (Karippukoikkal pond), Rudratheertham (Chirakkulam), Somatheertham (Manjalikulam) Ramatheertham (Vaniyankulam), Ananthatheertham (Padmatheertham), Ēshanatheertham (old Nandavanam pond), unfortunately many of these water bodies have vanished from the topography of Thiruvananthapuram (Prof. A.G. Menon,  History of the Sree Padmanabhaswami Temple). Padmatheertham was a small tank in its early days, with maybe a modest flight of steps leading to the water. Later it was during the reign of Anizham Thirunal Marthanda Varma(1729-1758) that the area of the tank was expanded and the ghats were added (Shasi Bhooshan M.G., Dr. Raja R.P., Charithramkuricha Sree Padmanabha Swamy Kshetram, D.C. Books (2011).

The tank had a companion, the Patrakulam, another tank which has disappeared from the topography of the Fort area. Marthanda Varma, who built check dams and tanks in Nanjinadu to irrigate the farmlands, had developed an excellent drainage system for Thiruvananthapuram also. The temple tank was constantly kept clean with the water from the Killi Ar, brought in by a small rivulet. The spillover from the Padmatheertham would flow to the nearby Patrakulam and then the water from the pond was in early days directed to the other ponds and to the gardens around the temple. Later the Thekkinakkara canal drained the water to the Parvathy Putten Canal, to the west of the Fort area. When Patrakulam vanished, the old drainage system also became partly defunct. 

The temple premises during early quarter of 20th century.

Picture from Life Collections, 1950s.

Padmatheertham, Patrakulam and the drainage system highlighted in dark blue - The map used here is a cropped portion of the 'Trivandrum Guide Map' (Survey of India 1968-69)

Padmatheertham and Patrakulam during the last quarter of 19th century - engraving from  ' Native Life in Travancore' by Rev. Samuel Matteer.

In the old days, in a society segregated by caste, Padmatheertham was always reserved for the use of the elite communities. Only royals, nobles and the Brahmins were allowed to use the tank. Every morning the residents from the nearby agraharams would gather there to perform the ambulation before entering the temple. This traditional system had a periodic way of keeping the tank clean. The tank was cleaned in every six years for the Lakshadeepam ceremony associated with the Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple. During murajapam the temple and its precincts would be crowded with Brahmins and certain rituals were also conducted in the tank. The tank has a small vault in its centre where the leftover sālagramams used to make the idol of Sree Padmanabha Swamy is stored. It was during the time of Sree Moolam Thirunal Rama Varma (1885-1924) that the Maharaja kept inside the vault the water from the sacred rivers from all over India, thus adding to its sanctity. The tank holds in its depth several interesting tidbits of history. When Travancoreans were shocked to hear about the murder in the temple tank many recalled a similar incident which took place in the days of Karthika Thirunal Rama Varma (1758-1798). Once Tippu Sultan sent a spy disguised as a sanyasi to the Travancore court, the man with his exceptional talents soon gained entry inside the Fort. He is said to have walked over the sacred tank with his yogic skill, however, the sanyasi was drowned in the same waters by Makayiram Thirunal, the younger brother of the King who found out that the sanyasi was a spy from Mysore. 

The famed vocalist Sreekanteswaram Ratnakaran Bagavathar shared with the author his feelings for Padmatheertham. Ratnakaran Bhagavathar who came to Thiruvananthapuram in the 1940s started his career as an ivory carver. He worked in a private firm in Palayam. Ratnakaran hailed from a family of craftsmen from Kadakkavoor. Some of his ancestors and relatives were well-known artists and musicians. Ratnakaran who had the affinity towards music devoted his free time listening music and attending concerts. One of his favourite hangouts in the city was the banks of Padmatheertham, there he would spend his evenings sitting in the granite steps, with his feet in the water and lend his ears to the music from the nearby small shops. The tank and its serene environment had helped in surviving the artist within.

The tank in its present state is a ghost of its glorious past; the old drainage system had once kept the water clean. Now the choked drain keeps the stagnant water in the tank itself, infested with dirt and algae. The temple authorities once tried to pump the water from the depths to aerate the murky water through surface agitation, thinking that it would help in improving the condition of the tank. But looking back one wonders how effective the whole process was.

Sharat Sunder Rajeev

28-01-2012.

For further reading:

http://www.hindu.com/2007/06/09/stories/2007060921560300.htm

http://www.hindu.com/2006/08/01/stories/2006080121810300.htm

TALES FROM THE CAPITAL CITY -XIX

STONE MASONS OF CHITTATINKARA, THIRUVANANTHAPURAM

Killi Ār*, the chief tributary of Karamana River flows to the east of Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple. Built across this water body is the famous ‘Killipālam’. The King of Venad dynasty, Veera Marthanda Varma (b.1706-d.1758) who personally supervised the renovation works of Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple ordered his workmen to find a suitable monolith hill from where he could get a chunk of granite, so big to make a monolith ‘mandapam’ in front of the main shrine at Padmanabha Swamy temple. The workers located a small granite hillock not far from the temple. Thirumala, as the place is now famous, indicating its connection with the sacred hillock, was at that time a part of Chittatinkara in ‘Anjam mada’ village (‘mada’ means drain). Anjam mada or ‘Anchamada’ - were the five madas dug for draining water to Karamana and Killi River. Kaduvetty, Maruthankuzhi, Pangode, Kundamankadavu and Vallakadavu were the five madas and these areas are still known by the names of the respective madas.

Stonemasons were employed to cut the large boulder into required size and the mathilakam records state that Nair and Ezhava labourers toiled for days to get the large boulder to the worksite near Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple. A large cart with huge wooden wheels was made for the purpose of transportation and the stone was hauled by elephants. A new road was made by the labourers, connecting the granite quarry to the temple. The road running through Poojappura, Karamana, Aranoor, Chalai and connecting to Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple is still in use. A small guild of stonemasons was located near the quarry and they were assigned the task of hewing granite blocks into required size for making the pillars and roof slabs. The descendants of these masons still live there.

On top of the hillock is a small temple ‘Trichakrapuram’ Sree Krishna Swamy temple (also known as 'Parakovil') dedicated to Lord Sree Krishnan. It is said that the hillock got its name, ‘Thirumala’, meaning ‘sacred hill’, due to the presence of this ancient temple.

Trichakrapuram Sree Krishna Swamy temple, on top of the granite hill - Photograph taken by the author.

The spot from where the large boulder was cut for the 'ottakkal mandapam'

- Photograph taken by the author.

The huge granite boulder, in its journey to the work site, passed through Karamana before reaching the Killi River, in those days there were no means for transporting the huge stone to the other side. Marthanda Varma gave instructions to divert the river. The course of the river was changed and thus the boulder reached the other side of the river. There are many stories circulating amongst the local population about the King and the divine assistance he got from Sree Padmanabha Swamy to get the boulder to the other side of the river. One of the senior members of Chittatinkara guild narrated such a story that he has heard from the elders. On reaching Killi River, the labourers found it impossible to transport the boulder and their leader went to the King and told him about the situation. The King after thinking for a while took a palm leaf and the stylus and wrote something in it and handed it over to one of his ministers. In the leaf was written the number ‘six’ (6) in the Malayalam numeral and there was a cut across it. The clever minister got the point and asked the labourers to build an embankment across the river. In Malayalam the numeral six (6) is pronounced as ‘Ār’/‘Āru’, the same word for river. The line drawn across meant that an embankment was to be constructed across the river.

The Malayalam numeral 'six' (left) - Ar and the sign given by the king to build an embankment across the river (Ar).

The granite boulder being hauled to Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple - Sketch by the author.

Vettamukku Vilakathu Veedu (Shiva Bhavanam) an old Tamil Vishwakarma family of stone workers (silpins) is settled in Chittatinkara. Padmanabhan Achari (b.1850s), an early ancestor of the family owned large areas of land near Trichakrapuram Sree Krishna Swamy temple, his son Shiva Thanu Achari (d.1940s) was a well-known figure. Senior citizens say that in old days there were three Tamil silpin families in Vettamukku, associated with the renovation work of Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple. Thirumala and the surrounding areas like Edapazhinji and Vattiyoorkāvu had large rock boulders. The large rocky hills in Thirumala region provided enough granite for the construction of the temple and the fort walls. According to present family members, Uchudamakali Achari, son of Shiva Thanu Achari used to say that the granite panels, used as roofing for the ‘Sheevelipura’ of Padmanabha Swamy temple were made by his ancestors. Going by the popular family traditions and hearsay the ancestors of this family had settled in Thiruvananthapuram during the reign of Marthanda Varma (c.1730s). They were stone workers associated with the renovation works of Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple. The present descendants claim that their ancestral family was located in Dhanushkodi, near Rameshwaram. The ancestors of this family had initially settled in Karamana and Choorakattupalayam, where many of the Vishwakarma families were concentrated. In due time the region occupied by this guild came to be known as ‘kalppalayam’ - meaning abode of stone masons. The temple housing their principle deity - Goddess Amman is still there in Karamana. The renovation works of Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple started by Marthanda Varma was carried forward by his illustrious successor, Karthika Tirunal Rama Varma a.k.a. 'Dharmaraja'. In 1768 AD/ 943 M.E., Ezhava labourers were employed for bringing to the temple, twenty-eight Mandira Moorthy pillars, which were made in Thirumala (Churuna 28, Olas 99 & 100, Sree Padmanabha Swamy Temple, Princess Gouri Lakshmi Bayi.)

P. Shiva Thanu Achari and his wife Valli Ammal – From the private collection of Mr. Padmanabhan.

The old house, Shiva Bhavanam was made by Shiva Thanu Achari. Unlike other houses in the surroundings, we can see perfectly dressed granite blocks serving as steps and the plinth above which the house is built. Behind the house was a large pond (14.5 cents) formed as a result of cutting out of large blocks of rock from the boulder. The pond was used by the family and the locals of the region.

Later, during the latter half of 18th century, some families from Karamana settled in Chittatinkara. They were all involved in the cutting and dressing of granite for the construction works of Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple. The stone blocks for building the Fort walls were also supplied from Thirumala. Trichakrapuram Sree Krishna temple was a small structure during that time and it seems that the guilds of stonemasons were involved in the construction of the temple and the associated structures in the present form. They were given land near the temple. The ancestors of this family, along with the craftsmen families like Chatharathala and Eruparathala families formed a guild of village artisans.

*Ār - means river in Malayalam.

Sharat Sunder Rajeev

TALES FROM THE CAPITAL CITY -XIII

THE DAY I MET THE KING

It was a hot February noon and I was sitting in my father’s studio, waiting for a phone call - a phone call that could make one of my dreams come true. A day back, my friend Uma Maheshwari, who is writing the biography of Maharaja had promised to take me with her, to Pattom palace!

Many years back, standing on the terrace of my father’s old studio, I saw an old car, with the royal insignia of the erstwhile royal family passing down the street. Then somebody told me that it was the King of Travancore, on his daily routine, on his way to the Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple. The next day also I waited there to see the King, but I got only a glimpse of him. On yet another day, sitting on the rear seat of my father’s scooter I even followed him to the gates of the old city. I noticed that many people on seeing the car stood up and bowed in reverence.

When I was studying in the tenth standard, on my first visit to Padmanabha Swamy temple we were told that the King was coming for his daily prayers and that we will have to wait until he has finished. I rushed to see him; this time also I did not have much luck as he passed by quickly. Through the stories told by my grandfather and other senior family members, the members of the royal family had become a household name. It was one of my dreams to meet them. Through the drawing competitions conducted by Chitrakalamandalam, I had the opportunity to meet Karthika Tirunal Thampuratti and her daughters, the princesses. However, I have not met or talked to the King.

Uthradam Thirunal Marthanda Varma, as a small boy - Picture reproduced from Temple Entry Proclamation Souvenir.

As I did not get any response from Uma, I called her. Palace secretary said that the King already had many visitors, but he asked her to come. It kind of let down my spirits, as I have heard Uma saying that sometimes she had to wait for days to see him. However, after some time she called me and said that we could meet him. The meeting was scheduled at three p.m., borrowing my mother’s Activa; I went to the University office to pick Uma.

I was feeling a little tensed as I approached the large arched gate, inside I saw an old palace with many later additions, even though in the traditional style they did not seem to match with the old structure. It was disappointing that the palace of the King was not so large or grand (compared to Kowdiar palace) as I had expected. The secretary’s office seemed to be a treasure trove of old photographs and paintings. A large painting of the long gone Aanacutcherry, a landmark of old Travancore claim a major portion of one wall, an intricate portrait of the King, by Krishnan Nair, done using coloured sand catches our attention.

The Maharaja who was born in 1922 is going to celebrate his 88th birthday this March. I was surprised that even at this old age he had to keep up with a busy schedule. There were many people waiting to see him. After waiting for some time, we were asked to go inside, Uma Maheshwari who was familiar to the staff and palace, led the way. We were led to a medium sized living room. We stood there waiting for the King. The room was decorated with many old photographs and paintings. A huge painting of Sree Moolam Tirunal, by P. Mukundan Thampi, dated 1910 adorn a wall (the portrait is clearly a copy of a similar one by Raja Ravi Varma, the great-grandfather of the Maharaja). There were old photographs of Chithira Tirunal, Amma Maharani and old photographs of the King’s late wife. Another painting, which caught my attention, was that of Chithira Tirunal wearing a green turban, Uma told me that Marthanda Varma was an expert in tying turbans and he used to make one in less than two minutes, for his ‘Annan’, the late Maharaja Chithira Tirunal Bala Rama Varma.

Marthanda Varma and his wife Sri Radha Devi.

Standing there, I could see that the next room led to an open courtyard on one side there were many idols of gods, a Brahmin was cleaning/preparing for pooja. The building, even though a royal palace, was warm and cosy like an old middle-class tharavad. It brought back the memories of my grandmother’s old tharavad.

A man came and asked Uma whether she got a calendar published by Sree Padmanabha Swamy temple trust, she said no and he went inside. After a few seconds, a small man wearing a loose white shirt and a mundu entered, his back was bend, which reminded me of Karthika Tirunal during her last years. Actually, I took some time to realize that it was the King. Uma bowed in reverence. He presented her the calendar. I folded my hands and greeted him with a ‘Namaste’.

Even though I had seen him many times before, I had expected to find a more powerful man, but to my surprise, in front of me, sitting in an old model European chair was the Maharaja of Travancore. Uma who was a frequent visitor began talking to him, by that time I was closely studying him. He wore an old-fashioned white shirt, with the royal emblem embroidered on his right chest. The simple white mundu and the paragon 'maethiyadi' chappals gave him a ‘common man’ look. Yet when he talked, he showed clear marks of his aristocratic upbringing. The only gold ornaments that he was wearing were three gold rings, one with his initials M.V., a ‘Navaratna’ ring and a ring with an emerald stone.

Uma had prepared a list of ‘things to do’ for the forthcoming release of the book. It seems that he was not satisfied with the publishers, they were very slow. Uma wanted them to release the book before the King’s birthday, which is in March. It was interesting that he cracked some jokes while talking and this made him look more casual. After talking to Uma he asked her who this new boy was, Uma introduced me and told him that I was doing some sketches for his book. He asked me whether I could do a picture of him, with Sreepadmanabha’s feet in his heart.

While talking he said that the behaviour of people has changed drastically, they have chosen the path of ‘Ravana’, the path of ‘adharma’. He seemed distressed at the state of his lost kingdom. Travancore had seen its days of glory under the rule of her famous Kings. Starting from Veera Marthanda Varma, the father of modern Travancore who was both a mastermind in uniting the kingdom and at the same time was a ruthless tyrant; and the ‘musician king’ Swathi to our beloved last ruler, the ‘Rajarishi’, Sree Chithira Tirunal Bala Rama Varma.

I had the privilege of showing him the manuscript of my family history. He was interested to know that I had written it and had made the illustrations myself. He read some parts from the book, particularly the portion that said about the great London exhibition of 1851. He told me that the ivory throne sent to the exhibition was awarded a second prize, which was a great achievement for his kingdom and for the craftsmen who made it. He seemed to like my handwriting and commented that on seeing my penmanship he is thinking of stop writing.

Marthanda Varma - sketch by the author (2009).

After some time one of his attendants came and said that he had another visitor, he was let in. A man entered the room, bowed the king and took out three silver ‘kindis’ of fine quality from his bag and placed them on a table. After inspecting the kindis Marthanda Varma gave him some instructions on how to make a box for keeping them. The man listened to him and took leave. After he had gone, the king told us that the man was an Achari specialized in making silver artefacts; he once made a silver tray for him. It was packed in a wooden box and was presented to a friend, however on opening the box, the room was filled with a sweet scent that attracted all those who were present there, and thus he became a favourite of the royal family and now makes silver artefacts for the King.

We didn't notice that time was sliding by as we were talking, soon it was time for his evening prayers and we stood up and took leave.

This article was written in February 2009.

Sharat Sunder Rajeev.

TALES FROM THE CAPITAL CITY - X

A NIGHT WITHOUT ELECTRICITY

Right from the time when I was a small boy, I loved power-cuts. During those days, I would wait for the power supply to go, so that I could play with the candle. Now it seems odd that I used to burn pencil lead and small bits of paper torn from my notebook in the candle fire, of course, without the knowledge of my mother. At some point, I used molten wax that fell from the candle to make small figures. All this was done during the study time.

With the coming of an inverter, and later, a generator, all these interesting ‘extracurricular’ activities ended. Moreover, from time to time the government decisions would put an end to power cuts.

The good news is that for the past few months the government has imposed a half-hour power cut and nowadays we do not use inverter and generator. The good old days are back, in the form of a large candle. Once a teacher told us that power cut times were the times when the members of her family came together, sat around a table and used to share their thoughts and experiences.

When I was a small boy, I visited my uncle’s tharavad, Pazhavoorkonathu Veedu, in a place called Channapetta, in Anchal, which is in Kollam district. It was a new experience living there as the old house was situated on top of a hill, far away from the busy and noisy city. There were small granite steps leading to the house. The house was surrounded by rubber plantations (rubber trees were first introduced at the time of Visakam Tirunal, during the 1880s, the very first tree that came to Travancore can still be seen in the gardens of Napier museum.) and nearby there was a small thekkath, which housed the family deity. There was a large ‘chempakam’ in front of the thekkath, with its numerous branches, without leaves, looked like the claws of a Yakshi guarding the thekkath. The tree was considered as the abode of ‘Yakshi Amma’, a minor deity.

The thekkath - a sketch from memory by the author (2006).

The thekkath and the 'yakshi chempakam' infront of it - Photograph taken by the author (2011).

The interesting thing was that the entire region had no electric connection until a few years back. When I first went there, the only modern gadget I found there was a tape-recorder, which worked on battery. We children, in the evening, used to gather around that tape-recorder which was given a ‘respectable’ position, in the verandah around the courtyard. There, life seemed to move at a much slower pace, everyone had lot of time to spare, during that night we gathered around grandmother (daughter of Edavankadan Padmanabhan Achari) who told us many stories of the families ancestors and about the treasure which was believed to be buried somewhere behind the house by the native kuravar tribals. Like us, the children who gathered around her to hear the stories, there were thousands of fireflies around us, who seemed to have come to hear the stories.

Years passed and on my visit to the house in 2005, for some function connected with the family temple, I found that they had electric connection and now life seemed to have a faster pace than before. Change is inevitable, maybe after a few years the entire region will be affected by the urban sprawl and will lose its identity, but that single night I stayed there, as a small boy, without electricity will be in my heart forever.

Sharat Sunder Rajeev
14-01-2009.