The ice cream run – Management lessons from Dad

18 years ago, I successfully completed my post-graduation in Business Management from one of the prestigious institutions in Bangalore, Christ College. Though my specialization was in Marketing, during the course of two years, I learned various aspects of business including supply chain, time management, advertising and many more.

Little did I realize that there was a time, way back in early 90s while in grade six, I was privy to a bunch of fantastic management lessons in real life. This was when my dad started an ice cream parlour named Adens in our small town of Changanacherry in Kerala. The ice cream was of a brand named Lazza and the company that made it was in Ernakulam, a city roughly hundred kilometres from our hometown. My first lesson in entrepreneurship.

Since dad took distribution of Lazza ice cream in and around Changanacherry, he obviously had to arrange for transportation of ice cream from Lazza factory in Ernakulam to our shop. Considering the distance between the locations, he had to plan the purchase that needed to last him for the next few weeks after which there will be a repeat of this. We called it the ice cream run. The entire process had to be meticulously planned since dad was a banker during his day job and he had to plan the trips on weekends. My first lesson in planning and supply chain management.

The number of items that were required for every ice cream run was sizable enough to be carried in ten large containers. Dad knew a person who owned a van which was big enough to carry those boxes. Arrangements were made to use this van so that multiple runs could be avoided, and the trip was optimized. My first lesson in logistics.

We will start early morning and will reach the factory in Ernakulam. Dad will have a list with the categories and numbers required of ice creams needed that day. He will then sit with the factory manager and while I enjoy an ice cream there, I could hear them talk about sales and strategies towards customer satisfaction, none of which made sense to me then. On hindsight, those were the pearls of wisdom from the lovely ocean of business world. Many times, dad was also able to strike some good deals before he confirmed the order. My first lesson in negotiation.

Once the order was finalized, the boxes were offloaded from the van for the factory staff to fill them with packets of ice creams. As this activity took a while, dad always made use of the time for a quick trip to the city and buy some other items required for Adens including ice cream cones, glasses, tissues etc. which were not something you could buy from the factory. I always looked forward for this quick trip since after the shopping it will be invariably time for lunch, and it was a great opportunity for me to explore the restaurants around Ernakulam. My first lesson in time management.

By the time we returned to the factory, the boxes of ice creams were safely packed and kept ready for the trip back home. Those were the days before temperature-controlled vehicles. Hence special type of insulated boxes was used to keep the ice cream from melting and for further protection large frozen containers of ice were used which ensured that everything was ok during the transport. My first lesson in quality.

The party then headed back to the hometown and just in time to beat the evening traffic so that we reach Adens right on time to store the ice cream safe and sound in the freezers awaiting customers. Sometimes dad also got some posters with colourful pictures of ice creams which promptly went on the walls of Adens which added to the whole appeal of the shop. It was such a heartening sight to see the kids screaming and crying with joy when they saw these images and specifically asked for them and most parents obliged. My first lesson in marketing and sales.

Though dad is not around physically, these moments remain deeply embedded in my mind which continues to be my guiding light in my professional life where I need to apply the principles of management. Something which no management books in the world ever taught me…

A Chilling Farewell

It was past midnight and Dubai was at the fag end of the scorching summer on the 27th day of October 2014. My son had not turned three and was a bit restless that night which kept both Ruby, my wife and me awake. It was a period in between our little one’s disturbed sleep due to some uneasiness that was troubling him. Since I could not sleep, I tried to make effective use of the time by putting my thoughts into a story and started with that on my laptop.

I was halfway into the story and our clock tried telling me it is quite an unearthly hour with the small needle touching the number one. Nevertheless, I continued with my attempt to write. A few minutes later, Ruby came by asking if I am not sleeping since the light was on in the hall where I was seated.

I told her, I shall join soon, but for some strange reason I was getting a bit too cold unusually. I requested my sweetheart to check the thermostat of AC, which was working all well. She said everything is fine and asked if I am feeling feverish which may explain the chills I was starting to experience. She even took out the thermometer which confirmed that my body temperature was normal, but I continued to feel cold.

It was just a matter of time that the chillness gave way to shivering and I had to get a jacket to make myself feel comfortable. I tried to switch off the air conditioning, but it was a futile attempt. It was beyond any logical explanation. I tired to continue writing, but with the quivering I had no option but to shut down the laptop. All what I wanted to do was get under the thick blanket and snuggle up to my darling wife so that I feel better.

As soon as I hit the bed and felt the shivering subside, the phone rang. It was dad. Getting a call from back home in Kerala at 1:30 AM is never a good thing. The news he had to share was indeed not a happy one. My dearest grandpa, one with whom I spent my entire childhood and one who I consider close to my heart is no more. He passed away a few moments ago peacefully in his sleep. Time stood still.

The world did not wait for me. Calendars were replaced a few more times.

It was closer to midnight again in Dubai, but this time in the middle of the winter on the 15th day of February 2023. A couple of hours earlier my dad was taken on an ambulance from a hospital in Changanacherry, my hometown, to a bigger hospital in Kochi where he had earlier undergone treatment. My mom, along with my sister-in-law and my cousin brother had accompanied him. They reached the hospital, and he was immediately taken to the emergency room for treatment.

My cousin kept me posted with updates. With every message that was coming through, the tension in the air at home in Dubai was rising. Dad was truly the one bond that kept the entire family together and the happiness we shared throughout our lives was something beyond my ability to put down in the form of words. As Ruby and I was figuring out the flight to Kochi, the next message arrived. It was quite an ominous one which said dad suffered a massive cardiac arrest, but the doctors did revive him. It was followed by two more attacks and my cousin messaged saying the doctors were planning to shift him to the ventilator.

The nights of February in Dubai are when the temperature is quite pleasant outside, and we do not really need air conditioning throughout. The AC was off, but I could sense the tingling sensation coming back. Something that was familiar to me about nine years ago. I asked my sweetheart for a sweater. The chills were back, and she had to hug me since I started shaking. She covered me with a shawl and later with a jacket as well. But this time I could feel the trembling staying a little longer than last time. The next day I managed to reach Kochi and bid a final farewell to dad standing next to his bedside. He was beyond any state of recognising me, but I knew exactly when he came to me and gave me a hug. Just the way my grandpa embraced me before he started his journey back to where we all came from.

End of an era

If you lived in India in 1980s or 90s and were old enough to write sentences, you must have used or at least seen something called Inland letters. These were sealable letters with stamps pre-fixed and people used them to communicate with each other by writing on these and posting them in a post box.

As someone born and brought up in Kerala, a small state down south in India, I predominantly used the language of the state called Malayalam. Though my schooling was in English medium, the routine usage of English was very rare and hence my vocabulary also was quite limited.

Having set the context, I now want you to picture this. A sixty year old man who lived in Bombay, present day Mumbai, at that time asking me to write to him regularly in English on Inland letters. Once he receives the letter, he’ll read them and correct my mistakes with red ink and enclose the corrected letter in a cover and affix stamps as required and post them back to my address in Kerala! All of this with just one simple and noble objective of making my English better.

Can you imagine anyone in 21^st Century to be so selfless, go all the way and take pains to help someone to this extend? That, ladies and gentlemen, was my dearest Kochappappan!

Kochappappan, how we affectionately called him, was my grandpa’s brother who hailed from Changanacherry, my hometown in Kerala. Soon after his college days he made Bombay his home. From the time I could recollect, he was always referred as Kochappappan from Bombay! Every year he used to make sure that he kept aside a considerable amount of time to come down to Kerala to visit his brother and relatives.

Unlike many of our other relatives, Kochappappan whenever he visited Kerala used to stay with us for a month or so as we were in the ancestral house along with my grandpa. I always looked forward to receive him at our small railway station in Changanacherry, where he’ll promptly arrive on Jayanti Janata, the express train that came from Bombay which stopped for less than a minute at our railway station.

I used to wait eagerly for Kochappappan’s arrival. One, obviously to meet him and listen to all the stories he had to say about his life and how he was a self-made man. He was the youngest of the five siblings fully aware of the fact that his eldest brother, by grandpa, shouldered the full responsibility of a large family after the untimely demise of their father. Kochappappan was all but a three year old child during the time when he lost his father. As he grew up he was quite keen on reducing the burden on his brother and tried all possible ways to make some money so that he could pay for his fees and other expenses himself rather than depending on his brother. He used to write to various magazines and made a little bit of money that definitely helped him with his plan.

There was one other thing I looked forwarded to his visits.

Kochappappan never came empty handed. He always ensured to carry at least two boxes decorated usually in bright red colour paper with yellow graffiti design on them. The boxes contained a treasure that you could only find in Bombay back then! One of them was Bombay Halwa and other was Bombay Peda. The former was a confectionary which usually came in a variety of colours enriched with nuts and dry fruits and latter was a sweet made of milk. Imagine a time when you could literally see and feel the taste of these wonderful confectionaries only once a year! Something that we who live in this modern day world of expanded markets cannot even dare to imagine!

There are quite a few stories about Kochappappan which I cherish deep down in my heart. The priceless moments spent with him during my childhood is deeply etched as fond memories in my mind and I’m sure will remain there till my last breath. Every time Kochappapan took the train to return to Bombay a feeling of emptiness filled my heart but at the same time the sweetness of waiting for him to come back next year always helped alleviate that pain.

On 26 Oct 2020, Jayanti Janata left for one last time with Kochappappan as the sole passenger for a journey without a return. The train left the station with only one destination, heaven!

May your soul rest in eternal peace dearest Kochappappan and thank you for bringing a big difference in my life with your presence!  

Breakfast in Paradise

It was one of the finest mornings in late November. Our eldest cousin brother in the family, whom we affectionately called Kochachan, came home with an exciting news! It was the 30^th day of demise of our aunt’s father a couple of days later. Normally a news like this wouldn’t have generated much of an interest among us kids in the family. Usually my dad would’ve represented our family and attended such events. But it was destined to be different this time.

The function was planned in a resort named Orange County in Coorg, known as Scotland of India! The resort, one of the finest in the country, was owned by aunt’s family. We were to have an overnight trip on a train followed by a bus journey through one of the most scenic routes in southern part of India. A day was planned at the resort and were to return home shortly afterwards. Paying homage to a departed soul never was so appealing!

Kochachan, along with my elder brother and I started the trip from the railway station in our small town of Changanacherry. It was a late evening train to Kannur, one of the northern districts in Kerala. The night journey was quite uneventful. We reached Kannur station as the sun was about to wake up. Got out of the station and crossed the main road and found a tiny tea shop that welcomed us with piping hot black tea. The lovely dawn was made even better with the aroma of the tea. As we had to cover about three more hours by road, we soon found ourselves on a bus to Madikeri, a famous hill station town in Coorg.

I remember falling asleep again soon after the bus started. Couple of hours later, closer to 8 o’ clock, my brother woke me up. The bus seemed to have stopped in the middle of a forest. It was lush green all around us. We could also hear the sound of a waterfall somewhere nearby, but couldn’t see it though. We got out of the bus and was told that we have a 30 minutes stop there to have breakfast. I wondered aloud about the prospect of finding food in the middle of that wilderness! That’s when Kochachan pointed to something across the road.

We crossed the road and at a short distance we could see smoke coming out of a mud chimney. It was an uneven slope from the main road which we climbed down to see a little hut thatched with palm leaves that has become quite dry with age. The driver of the bus was heading to the hut and since there didn’t seem to be any other signs of a restaurant we all followed him. Hunger had already started to do the job and I could hear my tummy getting ready with an orchestra.

We were about to step into the hut. That’s when my brother made an awesome discovery! A narrow country road was seen next to the hut which led us to a small yet pretty waterfall the sound of which we heard earlier. The early morning mist along with chirping of birds and gorgeous butterflies covered with a riot of colours playing around us, all painted the picture of exactly how Alice would’ve felt in Wonderland!

The clock was ticking and since we only had a few minutes left, we headed back to the hut to have breakfast. We literally had to bow our heads to get inside and were welcomed with a few wooden benches and desks. On one corner we could see a live kitchen in action. A couple of frying pans were placed on top of red bricks and fire from the woods collected from the forest fuelled them. A lady was making fresh pooris, an authentic Indian breakfast dish, in one of the pans and the other one had some curry being boiled. The burning firewood seemed to provide more light in the hut than the 60 Watts bulb that was hanging inside. This completed the hotel.

Some of our fellow passengers were just finishing the breakfast. As we sat down on the benches, the owner of the hotel placed clean banana leaves in front of us that served as plates. I was half expecting him to recite the menu with available items. Instead he came over with a bowl of steaming pooris freshly made and served us three each. I loved pooris and awaited the combination of bhaji a delicious dish made of potatoes. Instead the guy came to us with a dish that was bright red in colour. For a moment I thought it was some curry made of beetroot or so. But we were served with the last thing I expected as a curry for poori. A fresh catch of sardines cooked in grounded red chilly flavoured with locally available mint leaves and a bunch of other secret ingredients.

We were all taken aback for a moment as it was the first time in our lives we were greeted with this combination of curry for pooris. Nevertheless hunger conquered all other emotions and we dived into the breakfast served. ‘Heavenly’ would’ve been an understatement! As we gulped down each portion of this strange breakfast combo, we could feel our taste buds dancing around as though in a combination of ballet and jazz.

The aroma and spices of curry married to the freshness of poori accompanied with the relaxing sound of the waterfall placed in a magical environment was the perfect setting for world’s best hotel! It was indeed breakfast in paradise! A befitting prelude to our journey to the heart of Coorg, a wonderland in itself.

 

Age no bar

One of the most common terms you see in a traditional matrimonial advertisement is ‘Age no bar'. It is a declaration of zero conditions regarding the age of a potential future partner. While this is to find a possible match, I was fortunate to witness another flavour of ‘Age no bar’ during my school days. This time it was all about love, the love I was quite lucky to see between my dearest uncle and aunt.

Chittappa, that’s what we call dad’s younger brother in Malayalam and Chittamma for his wife. This was a time when internet slowly started making its presence felt in the houses in our town in Kerala. Chittappan and family were settled in US. One of those days, Chittappan had to travel alone to India. It was quite unusual to see them not being together since they were seldom seen apart when they travelled.

Chittappan that day, reached our home after a tiring flight. He freshened up and got me to connect the internet for him. Soon Chittamma was online on Yahoo Chat, one of the widely used chat engines those days. Voice chat was yet to be common and hence Chittappan had to type the statements in the chat window.

Let me give you a social background in Kerala while this was happening. I’m talking about a Kerala that was 25 years back. Those were the times when most parents very rarely expressed their love openly for each other. Words of love were hardly spoken, especially in public between the father and mother. I don’t really recollect my parents giving a hug in public. Any behaviour otherwise were not among the accepted norms in our society then.

While such a social behaviour existed, it won’t be an exaggeration if I say I was absolutely stunned when I saw the words Chittappan typed on the chat window. It was that time of the year when jackfruit was available in plenty in Kerala. As expats they must have shared a special love towards this fruit since it wasn’t that common in US. He asked her, “Chakka venodi chakkare” literally translated as “Do you need jackfruit darling”?

It may sound quite silly to be surprised at so simple a statement. But honestly, it was one of the biggest shockers of my life that someone who were of my parents’ age can speak like this publicly. It was something short of a taboo in a society where I lived. That day, I guess, changed my perspective about life. A realization of the meaning of love hit me hard. Chittappan and Chittamma, through their expression of love taught me one of the most valuable lessons in life. There is no age limit for love and more importantly do not hold yourself back from expressing your love to a dear one!

They were one of the earliest love birds I’ve seen. They taught me the happiness of being together. In a world when people get scared to be in a commitment let alone getting married, Chittappan and Chittamma were God sent real life examples for me to strongly believe in the beauty of a married life. The joy of the life they shared always reflected in the smiles they adorned. I’ve never seen either of them walking around with a frown. They appeared to me in a perennial state of bliss.

The flow of life is such that two distinct streams of water join hands in Holy Matrimony and flow together as one river. The love for each other nourishes the banks of this river thereby sharing the happiness they experienced with others. I’m so thankful to God that I’ve been a recipient of such endless love from a very beautiful river that flowed through my life.

A couple of weeks back, Chittappan slightly changed his course to join his Creator leaving behind a legacy along with Chittamma for an entire generation to learn and live on in the spirit of love.

May you all be blessed in this New Year with the presence of such wonderful people who enrich our lives while they are around and even after that!

The Fragrance

This was a few years before India started to hear words such as globalization and liberalisation. For a school going kid, a visit from an NRI uncle and family in Gulf had the excitement similar or even more than the annual feast at the local church.

Starting from preparations to receive the family to getting up at odd hours and waiting impatiently to get into a Tempo Traveller to head to the airport, obtaining the pass to the visitor’s gallery at the airport, rushing to find a suitable spot in the gallery, the anticipation of arriving aircraft, opening of the doors, counting the passengers getting down one by one and finally sighting the familiar faces of uncle and family, all contributed to the greatest experience of the year!

The icing on the cake was seeing the number of large bags uncle brought with him since everything about those bags was new to the pre-globalization eyes of a school going kid. As soon as we reached home, the baggage were promptly taken to the room that awaited their visit. Soon enough the whole room will have a very unique fragrance, the likes of which only comes with an NRI Gulf family of those times!

The days ahead will be filled with surprises after surprises. The joy of receiving a gift, the happiness of seeing things beyond your imagination and the overall experience of being with someone who crossed the proverbial seven seas were all adding to the experience.

A month will fly by and soon it will be time for uncle and family to return to their NRI status. I hated the trips to airport to see off someone, nevertheless I did go many times. Through tearful eyes we bid goodbye. It was a heart breaking moment to stand on the same viewer’s gallery and watch the aircraft take off.

You return home and try to relive the happy moments in the now empty room. All that remains is the fragrance from the bags that were in the room.

James Mukkadan, my uncle, who gifted me all those priceless moments is no longer with us as he joined the Creator earlier today (27 Nov 2019), for a well-deserved eternal life. He leaves behind a great legacy.

I now realize something more important. Uncle, what you left behind in that empty room was not just the fragrance from your bags. It is a whole lot of memories that you created with your genuine love and care. You will be deeply missed and remembered forever! 

The DNA Machine

“Oh my God! Shahjahan, you have changed a lot! I didn't even recognize you!” Jolly’s voice came screaming through a message in our WhatsApp group recently created after 23 years of passing out of school.

He was commenting on a photo posted by Shahjahan which showed a dad and son posing right next to Mohanlal, a famous actor in Indian cinema industry.

He continued, “I can see you in your son. He is exactly how you were back in school!”. The rambling went on for a while. He even tried to evoke the emotions that were long lost. The message probably was the lengthiest reliving the nostalgic moments from yester years.

He concluded the warm and loving welcome with an invitation to Ireland where he is currently working as a physio. Much love and affection was clearly written all over the voice note!

A few minutes of silence followed, in an otherwise super active group, vibrant with the energy of a school reunion after almost quarter of a century!

We then saw one of the group admins typing. Soon enough, a message appeared on the window, “That’s not Shahjahan”.

It was just another random forward of a father-son duo posing with the movie star along with some funny caption which was promptly mistaken by the jolly good fellow.

Jolly is now called, ‘The DNA Machine’!

The Toughest Lesson

It was one of the coldest and darkest of the December mornings with the sky appearing to take revenge on mankind with a very heavy downpour. I tried to save whatever heat I could by clinging on to my dear blanket and hugging my pillow even more. I must have been in grade five or six then. I heard the old clock in my grandpa’s room striking five and shortly after that I heard the main door of our home making a creaking noise. With stories from Phantom and Mandrake the Magician running at the back of my mind, I suddenly smelled a sense of adventure!

With some effort and lots of courage I crawled out of my bed and walked into the hall which was quite dark. The mirror in the room shared a faint reflection of the leaves of papaya tree that stood in our backyard. The dim street light in a pocket road next to my home gave an eerie feeling to the whole morning. The door creaked again.

I peeped into the drawing room where the main door stood and saw the figure of a man clad in white T-shirt and a cotton wraparound with a head gear covering the ears. He had an umbrella as well in his hand. Before even I could speak a word he promptly got out and plunged into the rain giving me an illusion of almost disappearing into the darkness! That was my grandfather going out for his usual morning walk, a routine that he followed till an age when his legs could carry him!

Walking was just one of them. He had many more such regular practices in life which he followed quite strictly. Eating on time, sleeping early and catching-up on the newspapers daily were a few among them. All of these and many more were religiously followed by him that the days in my grandpa’s life can be a textbook with pages that showed up as photocopies.

Today, we are living in a world where life is changing at a pace where we aspire to do things differently every other moment. This picture perfect life led by my grandpa now appears to me more like a fantasy. While I would like to classify this as a lesson from a centenarian, perhaps this is one of the toughest one as well. Modern day lifestyle coupled with lethargy makes it quite a challenge for following something as rigorous as this routine. Nevertheless I would prefer to highlight this as one of the most inspiring lessons from my grandpa.

It indeed is a challenge to practice such a lifestyle but with the kind of news we hear around us with respect to health and wellbeing I believe it becomes all the more important to learn from such a life. Our sedentary way of life is one of the primary reasons for many of the ailments we suffer today. The only way out is to make up our mind to kick out the lethargy and find at least 30 minutes in a day, if not more, to involve in a physical activity that will make our body and mind engaged. Initiatives such as Fitness Challenge by the Crown Prince of Dubai is meant to make us aware of the need for this in our life today.

While I have not been doing justice fully to such initiatives I strongly subscribe to the thought that I should really be following some of these learnings from yester years so that it adds value to my everyday life. It is not just our health that becomes better, but the overall quality of life improves with such positive changes that are brought in.

A mere thought may not be sufficient for us to be motivated to do something as challenging as this. What helps many I learned is to set a target which can be achievable and work towards it. It could be something in lines of losing certain number of kilos or comfortably getting into that tight dress in your wardrobe or so.

May we all find that spirit to pull us out of our laziness and push us forward to a healthier and brighter life!

God bless. 

In loving memory…. Really?

Article for Bethlehem Matrimonial - Feb 2018

In the last one month I have seen three deaths in my family almost one after the other. All three were uncles and aunts with whom I grew up and spent my childhood. When the news of their death was known, the first thing that came rushing to my mind was some of the good old memories I shared with them. Obviously the number of incidents I remembered with love, varied from person to person.

I would like to call the aunt who passed away, ‘the bond’ of the family. She was the one who worked as the glue between various families on my mother’s side. She was so good with her hospitality that most of us cousins never had a second thought of which house to visit when we get a vacation. A whole lot of fantastic memories associated with my childhood is in and around that house. My aunt was not just a wonderful host but also made sure that her kids, my elder cousins, also extended a warm welcome to each one of us every time!

One of the uncles who joined the good God, taught me some of the basics about humanity. He reinforced the thoughts in me about the importance of treating all people equal. I also learned the ‘joy of giving’ from him, through his various actions. He was a silent teacher where his actions spoke louder than his words.

The people I mentioned above are only a few among many who left us with nothing but a bunch of memories. There are others whom we don’t even recall for good or bad. What’s more important for each one of us will be this question, “Will you be a loving memory after you are long gone?”

We all know we are here in this world for a short period of time. During this time some of us are lucky enough to be born in good families and create ourselves good ones too. What will be interesting is to do an introspection and check if we’re really creating good memories about ourselves. The best way to do this is to check how we lived our life till date and see if anyone will find anything good about it if we became part of history today.

Think about everything that we do for our dear ones. Ask ourselves, is this enough? Is there a room for improvement? Many of us fail to understand the realities that surround us just because we’re not a party to it. As long as we don’t have a first-hand experience of the difficulties faced by our dear ones, our empathies don’t hold much value. It is quite a challenge to overcome some of the practices or habits we have cultivated over a period of time. This includes and is not limited to various behavioural patterns such as addictions, lethargy and indifference to name a few. All these in one way or other increase the suffering of our dear ones either at present or soon in future.

Addictions in all cases destroy both you and your family either directly or indirectly. You’ll be depriving your sweethearts their right to live. Addictions such as smoking and drinking directly kills you and thereby lets your family suffer. Others such as social media or gadgets’ addiction denies them the quality time you should be spending with them thereby shaking the very base of your relationship as a family. All these thoughts are applicable for each one of us throughout our lives and is not just a one off case at some point during our short stay here in this world.

So what’s required for creating good memories of yourself? Motivate yourself to lead a better life. No one has ever said it is easy to overcome addictions or lethargy. It requires a strong will. Accept the fact if you need help and take it before it is too late and do what is required to sustain the change. It will hardly help yourself or your family while you are connected by a bunch of wires in an ICU. Promise yourself to be a better human being and promise again not to cheat yourself and in turn your dear ones.

It requires a lot of courage and strength to create and sustain good memories about yourself. May the good God help you with showers of blessings to find that one motivating factor that will help you push forward to achieve a better life for you and your family!

God bless!

Hot & Spicy!

A few months after I started with my Post Graduation course outside Kerala we got our first holidays. It was my first experience of staying away from my family and I was super excited to head back home! Nothing during that age was better than having the lovely food prepared by my mom. Needless to say, she had prepared those stuff which I loved the most.

Quite a few dishes awaited me at the dining table and was anticipating an attack any moment. The saliva was creating Mexican waves in my mouth and soon enough I started with my most favourite dish. As soon as I took the first bite I could sense something wrong! My taste buds were on fire and the entire food pipe experienced an intense burning sensation. That’s when I truly realized how spicy the food back home was!

The few months I was away being deprived of mom’s food and my taste buds experiencing an almost bland food from the college hostel, the spices back home became unbearable. That’s when my dad told me this story about one of the boldest grandmothers we’d in the family who was a connoisseur of spicy food! Kunjammachy was her name.

Kunjammachy was far beyond her senior citizen age at that time and it had been a few years since her eye sight failed her. But her taste buds still rocked big time! She loved spices and wanted everything served to her really spicy. One day she got a chutney made by one of her granddaughters. The chutney made for Kunjammachy was already extra hot that usually the rest of the family wouldn’t even attempt to try that.

The chutney was served to Kunjammachy and she had a spoonful. What followed next was a rhetoric of blasting to her granddaughter citing that the chutney is nowhere near being spicy. A lecture followed as well on how to make real spicy chutney. The granddaughter was quite taken aback with the lashings and she went back to the kitchen, doubled the spice quotient and served the dish again.

A quick tasting of the chutney by Kunjammachy and what happened next was unprecedented. The granddaughter saw a ‘flying saucer’ coming right at her and sure enough it didn’t miss the target. Her forehead received a massive blow with the saucer in which she served the chutney. Just like thunder following lightning, promptly came the avalanche of yelling and screaming!

“That’s it!” The granddaughter said. She went out, right into the backyard and searched for a specific genre of chilli the name of which literally translates as ‘Cheek Buster’. You touch it with your bare hand and you’re done for a few days with extreme burning sensation from the chilli. The granddaughter was so miffed that she got a couple of those deadly chillies and grinded them along with the chutney and promptly placed it in front of Kunjammachy.

The eyes that couldn’t see twinkled! Kunjammachy’s senses became all alert. She took a spoonful and tasted a little bit of that fiercely spicy chutney. All what it took was a few moments before tears started rolling down those cheeks. Blood rushed to her face. Her whole body was heated up like crazy. The entire food pipe and the internal organs must’ve got a flash fire shower! She was absolutely shaken.

Surprisingly she didn’t stop there and in fact had a few more spoons of the chutney. Then came the statement, which from that day, became a folklore in the family.

She told her granddaughter these words, “Good one dear, now it is a little bit spicy at least!” 

Joy of Giving!

Article for Bethlehem Matrimonial - Nov 2015

It has been more than half a decade since I got my first opportunity to cross the Atlantic and experience the place nick named as ‘Land of Dreams’, the US. We were a team of six from my company and were to spend the next three months in Atlanta on a project for a large airline telecommunication company.

Being my first ever trip outside India I was obviously super excited! Though the excitement did last throughout the trip, after a few days I really missed being back home, especially the aroma of desi food. The American cuisine wasn’t bad, but my taste buds craved for some Indian spices. One month passed by and we did find a couple of Indian restaurants and I even remember driving down almost 40 miles, approximately 65 kilometers to have idly and vada from the closest Saravana Bhavan by paying 7 US Dollars when idly back home in India would’ve cost me not even 7 Rupees!

Things were going in this fashion and that’s when I got a call from my cousin sister in Chicago. She told me that her sweetheart is sending me a round trip plane ticket so that I can visit them over the next weekend! I was totally bowled over by such a wonderful offer from my cousin’s husband. He really had no reason to extend such an act of kindness to me, but did it with all his heart, I learned. I was overjoyed and immediately planned for the trip.

Weekend came and soon I was at my cousin’s place enjoying the warmth of their comfortable home. My happiness was doubled as I knew one of my favorite aunts was also there at her place. They all made me feel right at home and had prepared one of the most delicious meals I probably ever had in my life! The stay with them gave me so much of happiness that the feeling of joy is still so deep rooted in my mind that any given day, the mere thought of it brings back a smile on my face wiping away all the stress and strains life offers.  

I had thought about this many times later in my life. The delight that my cousin sister and family brought to my life had no parallels to compare with. I tried to visualize the other side of the fence and realized that the joy-of-getting was made possible only because there was a joy-in-giving. A fact that many of us take for granted. We all love it when people gift us with surprises and other wonderful presents. We are always eager to unpack and get drenched in the pleasure of receiving the gift. Hardly do we register the joy on the faces that gave us these gifts. That joy I must say is more valuable than the natural feeling of your happiness of receiving a gift.

Giving someone something takes a lot of courage. It is so easy to gift someone close to your heart as you find no difficulty in parting with your hard earned money and precious time to do so. But it is definitely not easy to do that for someone who could be an extended family or friend of yours. It is good to remind ourselves once a while that all the joy-of-getting you experienced was only because someone decided to experience the joy-of-giving.

I remember packing my bags after the three months of our stay in US. There was something or other for every member in my family as well as my cousins and kids. I felt so happy to see their faces when I handed over these gifts after I got back home. I shared the joy-of-giving experienced by my cousin and family. While unpacking my bags back home and telling my mom what I got for each one of them she asked me a question, “What did you get for yourself?”

I smiled at her and said, “Three bags full of happiness”!

May the good God bless you experience the ‘joy-of-giving’. May this joy bring a lot of smiles on many faces making the world a much better place to live in! 

A Deal in Heaven

He was pleasantly surprised to see a large contingent of angels waiting to receive him at the gate. The group was led by a Seraph himself and greeted him with a very warm smile. A question came to his mind and he promptly asked the Seraph, “Is this how you normally welcome the new ones?”

The Seraph replied, “Oh not at all! You are very special to have made to the Level Five of Heaven directly and hence this remarkable welcome. Only a few I knew have achieved this before you. Congratulations!”

He felt good and asked again, “You said Level Five. How many more are there?”

“Look up yourself” was the reply from Seraph.

He looked up and saw five more levels right above, with the top most being the one where the Almighty resides. Many more questions came to his mind. But it was almost time to welcome him in and the Seraph reassured him that they’ll have a chat later the day.

After the joining formalities were completed, he was asked to take some rest. The journey from being mortal to immortal wasn’t quite easy. He had a good sleep and woke up to see the compassionate face of the Seraph who greeted him at the entrance.

“Hope you are feeling good?” Seraph enquired.

He replied in affirmative and was quite curious to see a notepad in Seraph’s hand. He enquired what it was and the Seraph replied in a hushed tone, “You are about to enter into one of the most important deals here in Heaven. You asked me earlier about the levels of Heaven and I could sense many more questions that you’ve in your mind. Are you ready for the deal?”

He felt a bit nervous; nevertheless being in high spirits he said, “Bring them on!”

The Seraph started, “This is the Book of Remembrance. As I said earlier you are one of the very few lucky ones to have directly reached Level Five of Heaven. Most of them start with Level Zero and earn their way up based on this Book. Each time someone back home remembers you in their prayers you get one point. You can accumulate these points and when a specific limit is reached you can use them to gain entry to the next level. Sounds simple, isn’t it? But of course conditions apply like what you people say back there in Earth.

Remember that just like you, there are zillions of others here in Heaven who wants to reach the next level. You need at least a million points to even qualify for the next level and with each level the required points go up making it quite a challenge! There are further criteria which I’ll explain later of what will really make you stand out among the qualified few. What’s important is that prayers from your near and dear ones need to keep flowing continuously for you to go up.

Don’t get disheartened. I’m not done yet. Each time you get a point based on a prayer, the person who prayed for you opens an account as well. Each of the points you earn will translate to half a point for them in their account. Once those points reach a limit you could redeem them to grant one of their wishes. So the deal is really between you and them! Isn’t Bartholomew a genius?! He is the one who came up with this score card system.”

He took the notepad from the Seraph. Walked to the window of his room and looked down to Earth. He could see his loved ones mourning their loss. He wanted to scream at the top of his voice, “Stop crying you morons! Start praying for me so that I can get the elevator to the next level and even grant your wishes!”

The Seraph smiled… 

Love beyond a century!

It was the first time in 33 years I was stepping into an empty room on the North East side of my home. The room belonged to one of the legends in our family, my dearest grandpa, whom we affectionately called Achayan. The majestic teak wood cot that was an ancestral property was lying there strewn with pink oleander flowers. The same cot that was used by Achayan for the most part of his life seemed to be crying in silence. I slowly moved my hand over the wooden railings and I could hear that telling me, “Gone my dear, the man who loved us both will now remain only as a memory”.

The head table was beautifully arranged with a crucifix that came from the church along with two long candles resting on chromium finish stands. Fragrant smoke filled the air from the incense sticks reminding that the body and soul are no longer together. In between all these stood a life-like picture of Achayan wearing his classic pure white shirt adorned with his favourite coloured shoulder towel. The jasmine garland that bordered the photo frame appeared to reflect the fragrance of a life lived to the fullest by a man who shaped the future of multiple generations of the family. Through the black frame of his specs I could see those eyes that have seen every stage of my growth. They seem to tell me, “It is just my body that’s gone; I’m leaving my soul with you forever”!

All his eight children were there, together for one last time to be with their father. It just felt like yesterday when they all came together with their spouses, children and grandchildren to celebrate 100 years of the blessed life of Achayan. They all relived the memory of that moment though it was almost two years back. He was indeed a blessed man to have seen six generations throughout his life and was fortunate to see all his sons and daughters along with his grandchildren and great grandchildren a few days before it was time for his soul to depart this temporary abode. His words towards his final days showed the content of a man who proudly endorsed the verse, ‘I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith’.

30 October 2014, Thursday

The day progressed with the necessary preparations to bid adieu to a man who deserved every bit of a most respectful farewell. You’ll be surprised to know how well planned Achayan was to have even the expenses for this function kept ready and had instructed my dad to take care of everything as time arrives. He was a fiercely independent man and would’ve loved to remain so even after he was gone.

It was post noon when a few of us from the family left to the hospital where the body was preserved in negative temperature. The man-in-charge of the morgue arrived shortly and after asking all of us to stand aside, opened the sealed door with a dramatic gesture. He waited for a few moments before stepping inside and pulled out a stretcher. It was a multi-cubicle cabinet, but my grandpa was the only occupant of that section. As if, forty long years of living a bachelor life after losing his sweetheart wasn’t enough!

We were asked to wait outside and a few minutes later Achayan was all dressed up in the usual attire including his characteristic shoulder towel. The hands that once held me close were now tied together with a small crucifix kept in between them and decorated with a black threaded rosary. A quick prayer followed before he was taken on an ambulance in a procession back home for one last time; the same home he built 64 years ago.

The entire family was waiting. Those steps in front of the house which Achayan had climbed up and down countless number of times saw him being lifted by a bunch of his beloved ones. He was taken into the room on the North East where the cot welcomed him with open arms. It knew that there won’t be another chance to provide the comfort that it always gave this man. Achayan was then adorned with a crown made of white roses. Shortly after that he was taken to the main hall where a mobile coffin was awaiting him extending a frozen welcome with minus thirteen degree Celsius. This was to be his resting place till the next day morning when the actual coffin will extend a much warmer welcome. A wreath of white flowers gave him company in the coffin on which was a small piece of paper with the words, ‘With lot of prayers – Children’.

It was an evening of avalanche of visitors from different walks of life. Priests of various age dropped in to pay respects to a man with whom they were associated with over decades of service as a Trustee of Changanacherry Metropolitan Church as well as a socio-religious figure who was prominent in the same Diocese. Various families and their representations were among the numerous people who came to see Achayan for the final time. Prayers were flowing incessantly, so were the white flowers both proclaiming to the world the purity of a life well lived spanning a hundred years and more.

...And there was evening and there was morning, it was soon the final day in the life of Chacko Joseph Mukkadan to be physically present among the people whom he loved and who loved him.

31 October 2014, Friday

It was now 101 years, 5 months and 3 days since the world had enjoyed the esteemed presence of Achayan, living or otherwise. As it is with everything mortal it was time for him to rejoin his Creator which he did four days back, to be precise, on the early morning hours of 27 October 2014. Nevertheless the physical remains need to get the required attention through the prayers of fellow beings and loved ones.

Early in the morning itself the coffin that will be Achayan’s resting place below a six feet deep earth was ready with jasmine garlands. He was soon shifted to this new box which is probably the only thing that fits the age-old proverb ‘The buyer doesn’t need it and the user doesn’t know it’. The courtyard next to the house was dressed up in pure white doing away with the traditional black laced design. The coffin was placed amidst an array of white roses. Candles and incense were burning throughout.

Soon the place started getting filled with scores of people flocking in to say a final goodbye to the grandfather of the town. Seven months into his 102^nd year on this planet, Achayan was the oldest man in the town. The air was filled with prayers for the departed soul which was meant to give an easier access to the gates of heaven. A few of the priests and a couple of selected guests spoke about Achayan in between. They all reiterated how he led a good life, a real role model for current and future generations.

The final set of prayers at home started sharp at 10:00. The songs that were played would’ve melted even the hardest of the hearts. There was a quick rush of last minute farewell. People were still flowing in and so were the tears from dear ones. Everyone knew one thing for certain. This is not just another moment. Instead, one in perhaps a millennium, when a blessed soul as this, leaves behind a legacy that is unparallel in the society. Those were the final moments to be with this amazing personality who once blessed all of us with his life.

The prayers and songs have reached a pinnacle when the coffin was lifted to be taken to a van that was waiting outside. That was the last time Achayan was to see his home. The home where he lived and raised his children; the home where he built his dreams and taught his children to follow theirs; the home where he decided against all odds to give the best possible education to all his children; the home where all his children became graduates and more, a rare feat 40 years back; a home where he spent quality time with his family and told them how important it is to maintain ones character, health and wealth in that order; the home that saw him lead a very healthy lifestyle in all respects; the home that was this and many more to him. I’m quite sure he wouldn’t have liked to say goodbye but the angel of death gave him no choice. Nevertheless it remains a fact that he was one contented man who performed all his duties well on time and left nothing incomplete. He was all set to take the journey of his eternal life and that’s what he just began.

The van with the coffin carrying Achayan headed towards the church in a procession with near and dear ones for their last walk along with him. The church compound was quite crowded with people coming in to pay their last respects. This was the same church where Achayan spent a considerable amount of his life as a Parish Trustee as well as advisor to various initiatives of the church. The coffin was taken through the same courtyard where he walked with his open umbrella. Interestingly someone decided to hold an umbrella open, protecting him from the sun during his last few moments in this world.

The coffin was placed in the cemetery church where Archbishop Mar Joseph Powathil led the prayers. At the end of these prayers, Achayan was taken outside the church to the centre of the cemetery where the coffin was placed on a stand and the last bunch of prayers began. It was then time for the most difficult of the rituals for the family. The time to bid adieu to your most beloved with a parting kiss! The last of your closest moments with him ever, the moment that will be etched in your minds till the time memories last in you.

The line was long to give a parting kiss. Time went by and the queue became lean. The last person also kissed him goodbye. Achayan’s hands were untied and kept sideways. Before the coffin was sealed, there was one person who wanted to say bye to Achayan again. He stepped forward, closer to the coffin, leaned towards Achayan’s forehead and gave him a final kiss. He was holding a black rosary with him and asked me to keep the rosary inside the coffin with Achayan. I obliged the wish that came from the last of the sibling alive of my dearest Achayan, Antony J Muckaden, whom we all affectionately call Kochapappan!

The coffin’s lid was brought. I stepped in quickly and gave a last kiss on Achayan’s forehead, the same place where I’ve kissed him umpteen times before. I knew this was the end of a beautiful relationship we shared. He lived almost seventy years more than me in this world, but left me enough to carry on for a thousand years ahead! The coffin lid found its place and soon was lowered to the six feet deep trench awaiting him. People showered the coffin with frankincense and in a matter of time the coffin was covered in red soil. Achayan lived his life and fulfilled the verse, ‘For you are dust, And to dust you shall return’.

I knew my Achayan was a legend. So did Mother Nature who held her tears till everything got over. We reached home and except for the closest ones who stayed back home, rest of the folks left. I felt the Angel of Peace flying around filling the huge vacuum that was left behind by Achayan.

That was the moment when emotions overwhelmed Mother Nature. Doors of heavens opened. Showers of blessing started kissing the earth. A fitting tribute to a man who walked this soil and proved that you could live and die as a noble man…

My dearest Achaya, may you enjoy eternal happiness that you very well deserve!

The Push!

Year 2001, first year in the new millennium and I was happily walking towards the terrace of my college hostel in Coimbatore along with a bunch of my friends. We were to attend the flag hoisting ceremony to mark the 54^th year of Mountbatten handing over the baton of power to Nehru.
 

The college principal being the ex-officio warden of our hostel was the one to hoist the flag. The ceremony was done with due reverence in the presence of hundreds of hostel inmates. The hostel building which reminded me of the cellular jail in Andaman, though not exactly in terms of the structure, was capable of accommodating more than 400 students. A learned discourse followed in perfect Tamil when the principal of course highlighted the struggle our forefathers had gone through to get us this freedom which we now enjoy free of cost.

Being my first year in Tamil Nadu and not that proficient in Tamil yet, I experienced the same struggle my forefathers did to perhaps understand the emotional words of wisdom that came out from the veteran principal. Nevertheless since patriotism does not need a language to describe I could still manage to figure out the critical aspects of his speech.

It was customary for someone from the hostel to give a return address after the principal finishes his speech. I was standing right in front of the crowd who had gathered in a circle around the flag pole. I could see a whole bunch of seniors and super seniors standing right behind me and was expecting any one of them to start with their return address.

Those were the days when you were expected to be quite respectful towards your seniors lest invite their wrath which will prove to be pretty difficult to survive in the hostel later. Hence seniors used to be in the limelight for all possible functions and juniors will await a day when their turn will come for taking the centre stage. Such thoughts went through my mind and were probably even thinking of a day when I’ll step forward to give a wonderful speech filled with patriotism uplifting the spirit of the nation and reminding everyone to be thankful to our previous generations for the freedom we enjoy today!

What happened next was not even in my wildest of the dreams! All I remember was feeling a very powerful hand right on my back which pushed me to the centre of the circle where the principal was eagerly awaiting for someone to come forward to give the return address. All these happened in a flash that it took a few seconds for me regain my composure. I could suddenly feel 400 pairs of eyes directly staring at me as if an animal of prey is about to pounce on its victim! All my words that formed the soul stirring speech that was part of my day dream a moment ago seem to have gone into an eternal hiding. I could not even utter a single syllable; forget about natural flowing sentences which have to be contextual as well.

Guess times like these generate a very specific hormone in human body which initially creates an excessive amount of fear which either turns you into a zombie-like mental state or wakes up the Phoenix within you which arises from the ashes of the fear that is burned! Goddess of fortune was with me on that day and out came the very first extempore I delivered in my life till then.

The Phoenix continues its flight till date and I’m happy for that hand-of-God that pushed me to the unknown territories which I explored quite heavily afterwards...