Noted writer remembers August 15, 1947

By Shevlin Sebastian

On the morning of August 15, 1947, KL Mohana Varma, who was 11 years old at that time, stood on the grounds of the Cherthala government high school, along with other students, and watched the headmaster raise the Indian flag. “At that time, the people were apprehensive about what would happen after the British left,” says Varma, noted writer and intellectual.

The previous night, a few senior students, of Leftist leaning, had entered the headmaster’s room and wanted to tie the Communist flag, with the hammer and sickle, onto the national flag. But they were unable to do so, as they suddenly panicked and ran away.

“There were many Communist sympathisers among the teachers also, because the Punnapra-Vayalar uprising had taken place a few months ago,” says Varma. (In October, 1946, there was a Communist revolt against the Travancore Prime Minister Sir C P Ramaswami Iyer, in which more than a thousand people died. Incidentally, Vayalar is just four kms away from Cherthala).

Meanwhile, it was an era when news was hard to come by. “At that time, we had not known that Jawaharlal Nehru had given his famous ‘Tryst with Destiny’ speech,” says Varma. “There was no radio, or electricity or fast-moving transport, like buses. And we read the news about our Independence, only three days later, from the ‘Malayala Rajyam’ newspaper which came from Kollam. Whatever we say now, at that time, 80 per cent of the people did not know that Independence had come to India.”

Among Varma’s age group, they yearned for the presence of nationalist Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose. “He was our hero,” he says. “All the youngsters were with Bose. We did not think about politics. We only thought of Bose and his Indian National Army (INA). We heard that the INA had gone to Burma and that was exciting. And we felt that Bose would return on Independence Day and raise the flag.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kerala edition)

“China's aims are Wealth and Power”

Says Dr. Tong Lam, Associate Professor of History, at the University of Toronto, during a talk at Kochi

Photos: Dr. Tong Lam; a village at the centre of Guangzhou

By Shevlin Sebastian

When Dr. Tong Lam was asked about the attitude of the Chinese people, towards India, he knew that he had to give a politically correct answer to an Indian audience. So he said, “Even though there are a lot of shared experiences between India and China, the people do not think of India at all. As for the Chinese media, they are focused on America and their warships. They don't see India as a major force. And among the elite, there are no good feelings, because of the [1962] war between India and China.”

Dr. Tong Lam is Associate Professor of History, in the department of Historical Studies, at the University of Toronto. He had been invited to give a talk by the Kochi Muziris Foundation in its popular 'Let's Talk' series.

In his first visit to India, Lam was taken aback by the interest Indians showed for China. “That has been a revelation for me,” he said. “India is obsessed about China's infrastructure and how they need to catch up.”

China, of course, has gone far ahead. It is the second largest economy in the world. Asked the reasons why, Lam said, “The government has always said that China has been the victim of Western imperialism. They keep saying, 'We are behind. We are backward. We need to forge ahead at all costs.' So the leaders have always talked about the need to have wealth and power, so they can catch up with the industrialised West. It is this desire that is driving China now.”

To become powerful, China went in for massive development: good roads, high-speed railways, apartment blocks, and factories. They also became the manufacturer of the world. “But, initially, investors were scared to come to China because it is a Communist country,” says Lam. “So, the government asked the powerful overseas Chinese to help. And they poured in millions of dollars. Later, foreign investors flocked in.”

And in order to move to the next stage of development, China needs a lot more resources like coal and energy. So it has gone to Africa. “But the western media has described it as Chinese colonialism,” says Lam. “However, the government, as well as nationalists, say that they are helping Africans to develop economically.”

Lam says that the western media is biased. “Not many people know that Canada has more mining operations in Africa than China, but they never receive any media attention,” he said.

And when Canadians work in Africa they receive a 'hardship' package. Which means their wages are much higher than what they would have received at home. They are also allowed to take their families to Africa. Every year they are provided first-class airfare to take vacations during Christmas and Easter.

“On the other hand, Chinese managers in Africa often have a difficult time,” said Lam. “They don't get paid until their contract is over. So, if they are sent for five years, they will get their salary only at the end. They are not allowed to bring their families. And if they have to send their son to a university, they will have to take a loan from the company and pay an interest on it too.” 

Thereafter, Lam showed a series of photo slides of a large village. In the first photo, the village is shown surrounded on all sides by huge, multi-storeyed buildings. It is a shot taken at night and the glass towers are radiating light while the village looks dark. The city is Guangzhou, one of China’s highly developed metropolises.  

“Usually, the state would buy up the land and develop it on their own,” says Lam. “But, in this particular case, for some reason it has remained like this. The city has expanded to the point that the village has ended up near the central business district, which is the most expensive real estate in the city. Recently, the government tried to force the people out, but they failed. So, the village continues to be owned by the villagers.”

They have turned the farmland into apartment buildings so that they can rent it out to migrant workers who come from all over China to work in factories and other industries. However, under government pressure, very few people are living in the buildings. “The villagers are now fighting to extract more compensation from the state,” says Lam.

Incidentally, during the Communist era, before the economy was opened up, in 1978, all the agricultural land was owned by the people. And the villagers, to invoke their shared Communist past, have hung up red flags.

But the government is unmoved. In fact, it has cordoned off the area with a large wall. On it there are posters which exhort the Chinese people to share the national dream of getting wealth and power, the twin propaganda campaigns of the Chinese government.

And the way China is developing, there is no doubt that these slogans have resonated with the people. If predictions are accurate, in less than two years, China will have the largest economy in the world, pushing the USA to second place. 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram) 

A Mutual Love of Art

COLUMN: Spouse's Turn 

Meena Vari talks about life with the artist Vivek Vilasini

Photos: Vivek and Meena Vilasini; 'The Last Supper at Gaza' 

By Shevlin Sebastian

When Meena Vari saw Vivek Vilasini for the first time, a smile appeared on her face. Vivek was carrying a bag of tissue paper, so that he could mop his face because of the summer heat. This was at the office of the Attakallari Centre for Movement Arts in Kochi, where Meena worked as an administrator.

Thereafter, because of the public ban on smoking, the Tripunithara-based Vivek would often drop into the office, and have a smoke. The director, Jayachandran Palazhy, had gone to London for a few months. As a result, Vivek and Meena started chatting. Soon, they became friends. Then they realised that they liked each other and had a mutual interest in art.

Meanwhile, time was running out for both. Meena had turned 30, while Vivek was 35. Meena's Delhi-based parents had pressured her to get married earlier, but she had resisted. She wanted to marry somebody she liked. But when she suggested Vivek's name her parents were initially opposed. “While I am a Christian, Vivek is a Hindu,” she says. Eventually, both families came around.

The marriage took place on February 11, 2000, at a register's office in Edapally, Kochi. “We did not have any money to have a reception,” says Meena. Since Meena had to go to Bangalore and Chennai for official work, Vivek tagged along. “So, that was our honeymoon,” says Meena. “But later, we were able to travel all over the world.”

In fact, the couple has just returned from a fortnight’s trip to Britain. Meena had won a fellowship on the Clore Leadership Programme for one year, and had gone to London to do research.

While there, for a while, they lived in a caravan in Walberswick, near the River Blyth, in Suffolk. “We went with friends, who had been going there for 15 years,” says Meena. In the caravan, there were two bedrooms and a drawing room, but the toilet facilities are outside. In their spare time, they saw off-beat films and plays. “Both of us had a nice time,” she says.

Asked about the plus points of Vivek's character, Meena says that it is his curiosity which is the highlight. “He is interested in everything – butterflies, clouds, cars, dogs and birds,” says Meena. “I keep learning all the time from him. And since I am working in a college, it becomes very useful for me.”

Meena is the Dean of Contemporary Art and Curatorial Practice at the Srishti School of Art, Design and Technology in Bangalore. And it was at this college that Vivek made his most famous piece of art: 'The Last Supper of Gaza'.

13 first-year girls wore burqas and face veils, and stood behind a long narrow table with a white tablecloth. On the table there were steel plates which had loaves of bread and red pomegranates. The background was painted in charcoal black.

On the day it was displayed in Madrid, on February 10, 2009, Israel attacked Gaza. Associated Press photographer Paul White took a picture, showing two Spanish women intently studying Vivek’s photograph, and sent it through the wires of the international agency. More than 100 newspapers worldwide published the photo. Eventually, it was put up for auction at Christie’s, London. A Palestinian, from Dubai, bought it for Rs 20 lakh.

“Yes, that was one of the happiest days of my life,” says Meena. “Vivek had always been regarded in high esteem by his colleagues and friends. But to get worldwide recognition was a big event.”

As a result, many people ask for feedback on the works that they have made. “Vivek is genuine and honest in his opinions,” says Meena. “Sometimes, I am taken aback by his frankness. But he tells me, 'That is the truth'. The good thing is that I have never seen anybody get irritated by his feedback.”

But Meena gets irritated sometimes. That is because Vivek has a tendency to leave his clothes all over the place in the bedroom. And she has to pick it up and clean the place, after she returns from college. “Nevertheless, I am blindly in love with him,” she says. “We do not have children, so we fill each other to cover the gap.”

As an artist, he also has his quirks. One day, Vivek told Meena that they would be going to the Ettumanoor temple. “I got excited,” she says. “But when we reached the entrance, he stopped and stared at the murals. He had actually come to see that. We returned without going inside. Both of us don't go to temples or churches, but we believe in an Universal Energy.”

Finally, when asked for tips about marriage, Meena says, “You cannot change the other person. He is what he is. So you must try to understand him. If the interests are the same, it helps to make a successful marriage. If I was not into art, I would not have been able to understand and appreciate Vivek.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)  

Capturing Life in an Abstract Way

CR Manmadhan’s exhibition, a mix of acrylic and digital paintings, touches on a wide variety of subjects

Photo by Mithun Vinod

By Shevlin Sebastian

In CR Manmadhan's painting, 'Nostalgia', you can see a closed eye at the top right-hand corner, against a white sky. A tear rolls down. On the ground, there are houses, with sloping roofs, and across one side of the painting are beautiful flowers. A crow stands on a red patch in front.

“This scene is based on the famous memoir by Kamala Das called ‘Neermathalam Poothakalaam’,” says Manmadhan. “The Neermathalam [or the four petal flower] is rare. I was not even sure how it looked like, and had to do research on the Internet.”

When the artist Kaladharan asked Manmadhan to make a contribution to an exhibition on Kamala Das, sometime ago, he came up with this idea. Now this acrylic on canvas is on display at Manmadhan’s solo exhibition, ‘Perception’, being held at Kochi.

Across 20 acrylic and digital paintings, Manmadhan deals with a variety of subjects. They include depression, the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the antics of Lord Krishna, the aftermath of the tsunami, the different stages of life, the rape of the 22-year-old photo journalist at the Shakti Mills at Mumbai, as well as the 2014 football World Cup.

In the World Cup painting, set in green, players are physically attacking each other. One player's foot is nearly touching the head of the opponent. In the background you can see a menacing bear and snarling dogs. At the bottom, there is a hand of the referee, trying desperately to control the action. “When I was watching the World Cup, I felt there was too much of physical aggression and very little of football,” says Manmadhan. “It was like animals fighting.”   

His most charming work is the Life series of four paintings, set next to each other. In the first, called Life 1, painted in pink, violet and mauve, there is a suggestion of innocence and tenderness. In the second, which indicates youth, it is more lively, with mauve and yellow and has a nude woman’s body in the background. In the third, middle age is depicted in red, orange and green. Finally, old age is represented by grey and black colours. 
“The passage of life is in my thoughts,” says Manmadhan, a former News Editor of Mathrubhumi newspaper.

In another work, there are faces of two men and a woman set against a brownish-red background. But the woman’s eyes are striking because it is looking towards one side and away from the viewer. “The eyes are shifty, because there is no longer any honesty in relationships,” says Manmadhan. “I wanted to show the present-day complications between man and woman.”

A work called ‘Hope’ depicts a post-tsunami scene. When you look closely, you cannot notice anything. But when you step back, one can see the collapsed buildings, and although the sky is a mix of black and grey, there is a thin layer of light which is spreading in a horizontal manner. The sky is slowly getting clearer. “There is hope in the painting,” says Manmadhan.

All the paintings have been done in the abstract style. And it is a method that Manmadhan has deliberately chosen. “The power of realism is going down, because of the advancements in photography,” says Manmadhan. “No matter how realistic your painting is, a photograph will look better. That is why I have concentrated on abstract art. What is important is not what we see, but what we perceive.”

This is Manmadhan’s fourth solo show. Ever since his retirement in 2006, his painting career has been going full steam. In November, 2012, one of his paintings was selected for the prestigious Reader’s Digest.

Asked whether he loves journalism or painting more, Manmadhan says, “Art! Because I experience inner freedom. I can do what I want. I was interested in painting from my childhood. But I could not make it a full-time profession, because it would have been difficult to make ends meet. Very few artists can survive on painting only.”

Manmadhan has an interesting take on great works on art. “There is not much of a difference between great painters and ordinary ones,” he says. “One is well known, so his works sell. A lot of it has to do with marketing and hype.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

A Perfect Landing

COLUMN: Spouse's Turn

Mariamma talks about life with the senior bureaucrat VJ Kurian 

Photo by Mithun Vinod

By Shevlin Sebastian

A few months after the completion of the Cochin International airport at Nedumbaserry, on June 10, 1999, the officers of the Indian Administrative Service held a function, at Thiruvananthapuram, to felicitate VJ Kurian, the man behind the show.

At the event, J. Lalithambika, who later retired as Additional Chief Secretary, said, “This is perhaps the only occasion where we will honour a fellow IAS officer.”

And that has turned out to be true. “It was one of the happiest moments of my life,” says Mariamma Alappat, the wife of VJ Kurian. “Some officers apologised publicly for making fun of Kurian at that time. One had even said, 'A bullock cart will not be able to land there'.”

During those years Mariamma went through a trying time. “My husband faced so many difficulties, but, amazingly, he remained optimistic throughout,” says Mariamma. “Many people regarded the idea of public-private participation as a joke. Today, everybody is following it.”

When Mariamma would read criticism about her husband by politicians and others in the newspapers or see it on TV, she would get very agitated. “Sometimes, I would call Kurian up, and tell him about it,” she says. “But Kurian always looked at the positive side, and told me not to worry.”

One advantage for Kurian was that the media, on their own, offered whole-hearted support. “That made a big difference,” says Mariamma.

Looking back, Mariamma has learnt some lessons. “If a government servant is sincere, honest, and true to his work, there is no long-term harm,” she says. “He might suffer a setback or two, but will come up again.”

And yes, Kurian is back on top. Apart from being the Managing Director of the Cochin International Airport Limited, which recently declared a profit of Rs. 124 crore, he is the Additional Chief Secretary (Water Resources and Aviation), as well as a Director of the Kochi Metro Rail Limited. As a result, the Kochi-based Kurian is spending four days in Thiruvananthapuram every week.

Clearly, Kurian possesses character traits that have led to success. “He always tackles problems and setbacks in a calm manner,” says Mariamma. “In fact, in 28 years of marriage, although it is amazing to say, he has never lost his temper with me.”

Other qualities: “My daughter says, 'Whatever you ask Appa, he will not say 'no',” says Mariamma. “'Instead, he will always say, 'Let's see.' Kurian is not rigid, but in the end he does what is right. There are many husbands who say a loud no at the beginning of a request and then say yes in the end. That upsets everybody.”

Perhaps Kurian’s best quality is that even when he had very little time he gave a lot of attention to Mariamma and the children. “My children think very highly of their father,” says Mariamma. “When my daughter was a child, she loved a particular type of hair band. Once when Kurian went to Dubai, he walked on the streets for a long time before he could locate the particular hair band that she wanted. My daughter was very happy when she got it.”

However, it was not happy going all the time. Mariamma is frank enough to admit that she was perturbed, at times, in the early years. “Kurian has never attended a single PTA (Parent-Teacher Association) meeting of our children, Joseph and Elizabeth,” says Mariamma. “Work always came first. After that, came the family.”

Because of his busy schedule, he also could not attend many family functions. “So our relatives would get upset,” says Mariamma. “When there were medical emergencies of the children I had to handle it on my own.”

But a wise Mariamma says, “I realise now that these were temporary difficulties. In the long run, everything has turned out well, including our children.”

Joseph, 26, is doing his Masters in Surgery (Ophthalmology) at Pariyaram Medical College, in Kannur, while Elizabeth, 19, is doing her first-year MBBS at the Government Medical College in Kalamassery.

“One reason why both took medicine, instead of the IAS, is because my father, Paul Alappat, was a doctor and had inspired them,” says Mariamma, who had herself secured the fifth rank for B.Sc Maths at Calicut University.

Meanwhile, both husband and wife find solace in the two farms they have in Kuttanad, where they grow cocoa, bananas and coconuts. “Kurian is the happiest at the farms,” says Mariamma. “He looks relaxed and peaceful. I think there is a farming gene in him. His father, Joseph Vattavayalil, a prominent lawyer in Pala, was also a farmer.” And the farms, like the airport, are making a good profit every year.

Finally, when asked for tips for an enduring marriage, Mariamma says, “You should have an unselfish attitude. Nowadays, girls don't have that. At the end of the day, a wife has to make more compromises than the husband.”

A good communication between husband and wife is also important. “Even half an hour a day is enough,” she says. “You also need the presence of God in your marriage to make it successful.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

The Life and Times of Swamiji

Tamil director RS Prasanna has made a two-hour biopic on Swami Chinmayananda, one of India's great spiritual figures 

Photo by P. Ravi Kumar 

By Shevlin Sebastian

In July, 2013, Tamil film director RS Prasanna had gone to Los Angeles to do post-production work on his debut film, ‘Kalyana Samayal Saadham’. On his return, he decided to have a stopover at Hongkong, so that he could spend time with his uncle, S. Narayanamoorthy. Right next to Narayanamoorthy's house, on Mody Road, is the Chinmaya Seva Ashram.

One day, Narayanamoorthy, a devotee, took Prasanna to the Mission. When Prasanna was introduced to Swamini Supriyananda as a former student of the Chinmaya Vidyalaya school at Anna Nagar, Chennai, as well as a film-maker, she said, “The Mission is planning to make a film on Swami Chinmayananda [the founder of the Chinmaya Mission]. So, why don’t you meet Swami Mitrananda in Chennai who is spearheading the project?”

When Prasanna met Swami Mitrananda, following extensive discussions, he was invited to make the film. “It was my destiny,” says the film-maker.

The two-hour long film, ‘On A Quest’, based on a script by Swami Mitrananda, was shot in places like Kochi, Gurgaon, Delhi, Sidhbari, near Dharamsala, as well as the Divine Life Society at Rishikesh where Swami Chinmayananda had spent some time.

The film has a time frame, from 1910 to the 1980s. A team headed by co-director Anand Krishnamoorthi did meticulous research, to portray accurately the period costumes as well as the props.

Meanwhile, the person chosen to play the older Swami Chinmayananda was an out-of-the-box selection. He is Thotta Tharani, one of Kollywood’s leading art directors. “My costume designer, Preethi Kanthan, suggested Tharani Sir's name,” says Prasanna. “She used to work under him. Preethi said that Tharani Sir had a remarkable physical resemblance to Swami Chinmayananda.”

Which turned out to be correct. And that was how Tharani was invited to act in the film. “It was his first role, but Tharani Sir was more than happy to do it, because it is a spiritual film,” says Prasanna. “He has given a fantastic performance. And so has Sandeep, a monk, who plays the younger Chinmayananda.”

Asked about the qualities of Swami Chinmayananda, Prasanna says, “Apart from being a great saint, he was a fantastic orator. The crew used to joke that some of his dialogues were like punch lines in a Rajnikanth film. And there are so many witty and interesting episodes which we have highlighted in the movie.”

In 1947, people avidly listened to the radio, to get all the news following India's Independence on August 15. One day Swamiji switched off the radio. When his companions asked him why, he said, “India is free, but are Indians free?”

Once when Chinmayananda met his mentor, Swami Shivananda, he kept asking questions expressing his doubts about the existence of God, and asked whether the latter was fooling the people by wearing a saffron robe.

Swami Shivananda said, “I can answer your questions in 15 minutes, but you should decide whether you have only questions to ask or are you on a quest?”

This became the motto of Chinmayananda’s life. When asked to explain the enduring influence of Swami Chinmayananda (1916-1993), Prasanna says, “He has a wonderful way of appealing to the skeptic, as well as the divine in all of us.”

The bio-pic will have its global premiere in September. 

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi) 

“In Kochi, members of different communities dislike each other”

Prof. Ashis Nandy analyses the people of Kochi, as well as the behaviour of Indians during the 1947 Partition

By Shevlin Sebastian

A few years ago, political psychologist Ashis Nandy, 77, had come to Kochi to do a study on the people. But before he came he was told that there were no serious ethnic or communal violence for the past 3000 years. “That is difficult to prove, because the history of 3000 years is not available,” he said. “I then found that there were records available for the past 600 years. Essentially, Kochi has passed all the tests of good citizenship.”

When Nandy asked the local people the reason for this long peace, broken, with long gaps, by small communal flare-ups, these were some of the responses: 'We are secular.' 'We are progressive.' 'We have a high literacy rate,' and 'We don't fight like the uneducated ruffians.'

“The closest I came to a personalised response was when some of them said that Kochiites were not like the North Indians,” said Nandy, as laughter erupted among the audience during the talk, 'Another Cosmopolitanism', organised by the Kochi Biennale Foundation.

However, on further investigation, Nandy made a surprising discovery. The different communities, whether it be Hindu, Muslim or Christian, had a mutual antagonism. “Alas, Kochi's marvellous cosmopolitanism was based on dislike,” said Nandy. “But I did find some unusual factors. Nobody could describe the city without invoking the other communities. For the people, the landscape has always been full of multiple communities. While each group thought it was the best, and regarded the others as inferior or flawed, they also knew that the others thought of them in the same derogatory manner.”

In his essay, 'Searching for the Alternative Cosmopolitanism of Cochin', Nandy described this attitude as an 'epic culture'. “In Indian epics, the Gods as well as the demons are never perfect,” he says. “The interaction between them is a human one. Along with enmity, there is an element of affection.”

Nandy noticed this affection among people when he was researching the religious riots during the 1947 Partition of India. “40 per cent of the respondents, who fled from Pakistan, confirmed that they had been helped by members of the other community,” said Nandy. “There were Muslims who died while trying to save Hindus. The survivors told me that. The angry Muslim rioters also killed their brethren when they came to know that they were shielding Hindus.”

But it was not only Muslims who were reaching out. In Pakistan, Sikhs were saving Muslims. There was a young Sikh who abducted a Muslim woman, and brought her home. His elderly father said, 'Son, this is not permitted by Sikhism. Return the woman to her family.' But the youngster had seen his friends abduct woman and some had even married them. So, the boy refused to obey his father. Consequently, the patriarch took out his sword, killed his son, and returned the girl to her family.”

A Pakistan researcher told Nandy that there were more than hundred cases like this. “Our people don't need advice, theories, and concepts from the middle class to learn how to be hospitable,” said Nandy. “They don't need to learn tolerance and secularism from textbooks. They have their own humane principles which are often grounded in their own religion.”

Nandy recounted a story told by a Hindu woman, Neelima (name changed), who grew up in Pakistan and had lost the majority of her family members during the Partition. “She used to play with her neighbourhood Muslim girls,” said Nandy. “But her family, particularly her mother, used to beat her when she ate at their house. So, one day, when she went to her friend's house, Neelima told the mother, 'When I come to play with your daughter, my family is happy about it. But if I eat at your place, they beat me up. But I like the food at your house more than the food at my home.'”

The mother said, “That is not a problem. I will solve it. Do you know any Hindu mantra?”

Neelima said, “I know the Gayatri Mantra.”

“Okay,” the woman said. “I will teach you a verse from the Koran. When you leave your house, you should recite this. By the time you arrive at my house, you will become a Muslim. Then you can eat anything. When you leave, you must recite the Gayatri Mantra, so that you will become a Hindu when you reach your own house. But don't say this to your family.”

Indians, especially those who live in cities, which did not witness colonialism first-hand, like Kochi, have the ability to accept the otherness in people who are different from them, says Nandy. “So, all types of people – like the Jews and the Konkanis – were able to find refuge in Kochi,” he said. 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram) 

A Taste of Kerala

Noted Cuban violinist Santiago Jimenez plays with the Indo-Swedish band, Mynta. But he took a year's sabbatical to teach in a music school at Kochi 

Photo by Melton Antony

By Shevlin Sebastian

In 2005, violinist Santiago Jimenez of Cuba came to India for the first time. From the airport, he went directly to the late Alla Rakha's house in Mumbai and met the legendary tabla player's illustrious sons, Zakir Hussain and Faisal Qureshi. “They hugged and welcomed me with an open heart,” he says. “I will never forget that. I immediately felt that I had met the right people.”

The next day, Santiago reached musical nirvana. At an auditorium in Mumbai, he met his teenage idol, the British guitarist John McLaughlin, who is regarded as one of the all-time greats. “We jammed together on stage,” says Santiago. “It was an unforgettable experience. A dream come true.”

Santiago's turning point occurred when he joined the Indo-Swedish band, 'Mynta', in 1987, which was led by Swedish bass player Christian Paulin. Together, the band travelled all over the world, and played more than 400 concerts.

“That has given me a lot of exposure,” he says. “I met many good musicians and had a good interaction with them.”

Later, 'Mynta' released eight CDs and appeared on TV and on radio numerous times. “The music of Mynta is a mix of Indian classical, African, Latin-American rhythms, Arabic sounds and Scandinavian folk music,” says Santiago.

Asked about the impact of Indian music on his work, Santiago says, “When I heard the ragas, for the first time, it was a deeply spiritual experience. I have enjoyed listening to Indian music on the radio but I especially loved the songs of Mohammed Rafi. Whatever improvisation I have done is mostly because I have been inspired by Indian music.”

Music came easily to Santiago. His grandfather, Agustin Jimenez Crespo, is regarded as one of Cuba's great music composers. His father, Manuel Jimenez, is a percussionist, while his mother Teresa Borges, played the contrabass. Santiago received training at the Escuela Nacional Del Arte at Havana. All his three brothers are musicians.

But he is frank about life in Cuba. “The people are happy, but there is no creativity because of a lack of freedom,” says Santiago. “You cannot speak against Fidel [former President Castro].”

In 1991, on an invitation from Swedish musicians, he went to Stockholm and remained there. A few years later, he fell in love with the Swedish singer-flautist Jessica Hugoson. They have two children, Julius, 8, and Otto, 4.

When Jessica came to Kochi, in July, 2013, to spend a year teaching at the Amadeus Academy of Music and Fine Arts, Santiago took a sabbatical and followed her, and became a teacher himself.

Today, he has a good idea of the Indian education system. “It is too structured,” he says. “There is too much of focus on doing lessons in textbooks. You should have a free spirit.  You should not learn an instrument because it is a lesson. You should learn it because it brings you happiness.”

Santiage feels that the Indian students, by nature, are very obedient. “Some of the students should be allowed to go free,” he says. “They should not follow the teacher all the time.They are well behaved students. But they lack the creative edge. The teaching is too strict and that is a mistake, I feel.”

Despite this, he loves Kerala. “The climate, people and the small houses, they are all similar to Cuba,” he says. “The people are not afraid to show their spiritual side. In Kerala, like in Cuba, people look you in the eye when they speak.” But what was startling was his liking for old Malayalam songs. “I heard them when the movies were telecast,” says Santiago, with a smile. “You can get inspiration from anywhere.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

The rising incidence of Teenage Sex

By Shevlin Sebastian

This is a representative photo 

One night, Geeta Mohan got a call. It was from the tuition teacher who complained that Geeta's daughter, Shalini, 14, had not come for classes for several days. Geeta felt a sense of panic.

When her daughter went to have a bath, she decided to check her school bag. And got a shock. There was an unused condom. When Geeta confronted Shalini, the truth came out.

The girl was spending time with Rohit, a Class 12 student of a leading CBSE school at Kochi where Shalini is a pupil. They had sex several times at Rohit's father's empty apartment at Thrikkakara. Rohit's parents stayed in Dubai, while he lived with his grandmother at Padivattom. But Rohit had the key to the empty flat.

“Shalini told me that there was nothing wrong in having sex,” says psychologist Dr. Prakash Chandran of Kochi. “They see it on the mobile, and exchange WhatsApp sexclips all the time. On TV, almost daily, they see kissing scenes.”

Says Sreekala Ram, a Kochi-based school principal, “When students see pornography, they become curious and want to try it out for themselves.”

Both Sreekala and Prakash confirm that teenage sex has shown a marked increase in the past year or so.

Last week, a girl told Prakash that she had managed to sneak a boyfriend into her bedroom late at night, while her parents were sleeping in the next room. “There are cases where boys and girls have alcohol and drugs before indulging in sex,” says Prakash. “Many worried parents have brought their children to me.”

The city-based psychiatrist Dr. Janaki Sankaran says that parents are responsible for this. “There is no meaningful interaction between parents and children these days,” she says. “So teenagers have nobody to confide in. They look for help in their friends' circle.”

So what is the way forward? Sreekala believes that mobile phones should be given at a later age. “Parents tell me that they give mobiles to keep track of their children's movements,” she says. “But a child may be in a movie hall and glibly say they are at the tuition centre. How can parents know for sure?”

The access to the Internet by teenagers at home should be done in an open area, where everybody can see the screen. “It is also necessary to teach children thatteenage sex is not part of our culture,” says Prakash.

(Some names have been changed)

(The New Indian Express, Kerala edition) 

Love bridges the age gap

COLUMN: Spouse's Turn 

Hema talks about life with the musician Ramesh Narayan

Photo by Kaviyoor Santosh 

By Shevlin Sebastian 

Hema was living with her aunt and uncle, while she was doing her pre-degree course at the Krishna Menon Memorial government women's college in Kannur.

“My aunt and uncle were very interested in music,” says Hema. Both of them knew the musician Ramesh Narayan. “They would keep talking about how he was not getting any marriage proposals, because he was lame, and had no proper job as a musician,” says Hema. Ramesh, at that time, was earning his living by giving music classes.

“I kept hearing about this,” says Hema, a singer herself. Over a period of time, Hema began to feel a sympathy for Ramesh, although she had not met him. One day, she told her aunt, “I am willing to get married to him.”

Her aunt and parents were happy with her decision, but her relatives were against the idea since Ramesh was physically challenged. Anyway, in August, 1990, Ramesh came and and met Hema at her home in the village of Kalliasseri in Kannur. He wore a coffee-coloured kurta and had shoulder-length hair, apart from a rudraksha around his neck. “He looked more like a swami,” says Hema.

Ramesh asked Hema to sing a song. She opted to sing a devotional song called 'Thiruvaranmula Krishna' from the album, 'Thulasi Theertham'.

Ramesh liked her singing and complimented Hema. Soon, they decided to tie the knot, even though Hema was only 17, while Ramesh was 30.

The marriage took place on December 30, 1990, at Ramesh's home town of Koothuparambu. There was no honeymoon, but the couple went to the Moogambika Temple and prayed there.

Ramesh's mother, Narayani, a widow, had one request. “She told me that the only thing she wanted from me was that I should look after her son, and she would do the rest,” says Hema.

Which Hema followed to the letter. “In the initial years, I would be with Ramesh all the time,” she says. “He would play the sitar a lot. I would carry his instrument to all the concerts. It was a nice time.”

But Hema had to make a lot of adjustments. Sometimes, students would come home late at night to learn music from Ramesh. Inevitably, they would sleep over. “I found it difficult to adjust to this loss of privacy,” says Hema. “But, as time passed, I got used to it.”

She also got used to Ramesh's absence because of his busy recording career. When family events, like a wedding, would come up, he would not be able to attend. “I would get upset about it,” says Hema. “But then I realised that it is not possible to stop a recording all of a sudden.”

Asked about her husband's qualities, Hema says, “Ramesh is always helping me, especially in the kitchen. He knows how to make rice, sambhar and vegetable curries. When I got married, I did not know cooking.”

In fact, much later, Ramesh told Hema he had three children to bring up. One was Hema and the other two were their daughters.

The couple's two children, Madhuvanthi, 21, and Madhusree, 14, are also singers, like their father and mother. Incidentally, Hema has done 15 years of training in Carnatic and Hindustani music, perhaps the only woman in Kerala to do so. The children received training from their parents from their early years.

“In fact, whenever there is free time, we spend it by singing together as a family at home,” says Hema.

At heart, Ramesh is a homebody. “There are many artists who, after their work, will go to bars or spend time with friends,” says Hema. “But Ramesh comes home directly.”

One reason is that he does not like to eat or drink from outside, not even a cup of tea. “At home, he likes to eat dal and chappatis,” says Hema. “He takes very little rice. Chappatis are his favourite. He also eats lots of fruits. At night, it is usually dosas.”

Meanwhile, husband and wife sometimes have tiffs. But it is always Hema who steps forward to have a compromise. “Even when I feel that Ramesh is at fault, I cannot bear not to speak to him after a while,” she says.

Hema could also not bear the tension when, on October 8, 1994, Ramesh decided to set a record of singing non-stop for 30 hours during the Soorya Festival at Thiruvananthapuram. “I suffered a lot when he was singing,” says Hema. “He hardly drank or ate anything. I was scared about what would happen to his health, although a doctor was doing regular check-ups. At that time, my eldest daughter was only two years old.”

And yet when Ramesh set the record Hema was happy. “I was actually thrilled beyond words,” she says.

Then, on January 18, 2013, at the Film and Television Institute at Pune, to celebrate 100 years of Indian cinema, Ramesh sang non-stop for 36 hours. This achievement was later included in the Limca Book Of Records. “This time I did not feel nervous at all,” says Hema, with a smile. 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)  

A Mother passes on her love for reading

By Shevlin Sebastian

My mother was only 18 years old when she got married in Kerala and went to live with my father in Kolkata. Since it was a new place, it was not surprising that she was taken aback by the culture, food, language and customs. And she struggled to adjust.

During the day when my father went to work, my mother felt lonely. And that was when she picked up her first paperback from a shelf of books on my father’s table.

And my mother never stopped reading ever since.

One of my most vivid memories of my childhood was to see my mother with her nose in a book. I must have been five at that time. It seemed to me a pleasurable activity, because my mother had a peaceful look on her face.

But, recently, my mother, while reminiscing about my childhood, gave me another image. When I was a one-year-old baby, she would sit on an armchair, place me on her lap, and read the newspaper. So, as a tiny tot, I would stare at print for several minutes every day.

It would have been a soothing moment for me: leaning against my mother I could probably feel her heartbeat. And then there was this pleasant silence, punctuated now and then by the rustle of the pages as it was being turned.

My mother said, “You were the perfect baby. You never cried or made a fuss. In fact, once you went to sleep at 7 p.m., you would only awaken at 7 a.m. So I could safely leave you with the maid and go for a night show with your father.”

When I was seven or eight years old, we went for holidays to Kerala and spent time in my grandparents’ house at Muvattupuzha.

My grandfather suffered from glaucoma and could not see. But he was always keen to know the news. So my mother would sit next to him and read the entire newspaper: from snippets, to local news, editorials, national and international reports, and on to the sports pages.

I would sit next to my mother and listen to her. The entire exercise took about 50 minutes.

Is it any wonder that, with this sort of background, I became a voracious reader, as well as a print journalist?

I have spent many hours in libraries at Kolkata, Bangalore, Mumbai, Delhi and Kochi. I enjoyed the meditative silence that was present in reading rooms. Nobody disturbed you. You sat alone, with the magazine and your thoughts. The cacophony that characterised life in India was kept outside the room, more so, if it was an air-conditioned hall like the United States Information Service library in Kolkata.

Perhaps this activity was also an unconscious reminder of the time I spent with my mother, enjoying her love and companionship.

Today, at 78, my mother no longer reads books, but is an avid reader of newspapers. I still devour magazines, newspapers, books, and do relentless reading on the Internet.

And my children, a boy and a girl, are picking up the habit. Both are keen readers, but my daughter prefers to read on the Kindle.

Time goes on, but I silently thank my mother for this wonderful gift of reading that she has passed on to me… and future generations.

(Published as a 'middle' in The New Indian Express, South Indian edition)