The Road Beckons....

Thomas Chacko, a retired senior company executive, is embarking on a 30,000 km trip, through 40 countries, in his Elite i20 car. Earlier, he had completed an all-India trip in a Nano car

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photos: Thomas Chacko at the Cochin Port just before shipping his car to Istanbul; a giant redwood tree in Califronia 

Every morning, Thomas Chacko, 65, heads for the fitness centre at the Yacht Club in Kochi. He runs one-and-a-half kms on the treadmill, about three km on an eliptical trainer and does a stint at the rowing machine. This is followed by exercise on a stationary cycle, lifting of weights and body twists. Thomas ends the 45-minute session by hooking his feet to a stirrup and pulling himself up a few times.

Thomas has a need to be fit. Within a few days, he is embarking on a tour of 40 countries in Europe, USA, Singapore, Malaysia, Laos and Vietnam. “I wanted to do a tour of all six continents, but, because of a paucity of funds, I am confining myself to three,” he says, with a trace of regret in his voice. His mode of transport: the Hyundai Elite i20.

In fact, some days ago, Thomas had the car shipped to Istanbul. He will be driving from the Turkish capital towards Europe. Some of the countries he will be passing through, include Greece, Macedonia, Bulgaria, Romania, Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia, Slovenia, Italy, Switzerland, and Monaco. Thereafter, the car will be shipped from Rotterdam to New York.

In the US, Thomas will be travelling from the east to the west coast. “I am planning to visit the Grand Canyon as well as the giant redwood forests in California,” says Thomas. “In fact, there is a forest near San Francisco, where you can drive through some of the trees because they are so massive. I want to capture some video footage.” The total distance that will be covered is 30,000 kms spread over five months.

Even as he is driving through several countries, Thomas has to keep track of the different traffic rules. “In Germany, the headlights have to be switched on at all times,” he says. “In France, you have to keep reflective jackets inside the car. So, if there is a puncture, you have to wear the jacket before stepping out.”

But it is unlikely that Thomas will step out unless there is an emergency. One reason is that these modern cars have superb ergonomically designed seats. “You get good lumbar support,” says Thomas. “These seats are made for people to sit in them for long hours.”

Another reason is that Thomas loves driving. “I am most relaxed when I am behind the wheel of a car,” he says.

According to his pre-planned schedule, Thomas will set out every day at 6 a.m. He will travel non-stop till 2 p.m. Thereafter, he will to do some sightseeing. And since he has signed a deal with a travel web site, which has 15 lakh followers, Thomas will be filing a 400 word report every day, of the places he has seen, along with photos and video clips.

In most of the places, he will be staying at bed and breakfast hotels. “The standard is high, because it is in Europe,” says Thomas. “I have selected places where I can park the car.” The tariff is around Rs 5000 a day.

On different sections, Thomas will be accompanied by his wife Geetha, a school teacher, son Rahul, nephew Ashley Koshie, and his younger brother, Abraham Chacko, former Executive Director of the Federal Bank.

Incidentally, this is Thomas' second trip. He hit the headlines in July, 2012, when he completed a 26,500-km journey in a Nano car to all the state capitals, as well as the Union Territories. He also travelled through more than a hundred towns and cities, as well as the Khardung La, which, at 18,380 ft, is the highest motorable road in the world.

All this is a far cry from his former career as a company secretary and interim chief executive of Harrisons Malayalam Limited. Apart from that, he is a stellar author.

He has published a novel called 'Without a City Wall'. It is a first-person story of a young Englishman, James Badby and describes incidents in England, Malta, Flanders, Florence, Venice, Maldives, Malabar, Cochin, and the fabled capital of the Vijayanagar Empire during the 16th century.

Thomas has also co-authored and published a 200-page coffee-table book, 'Forest Gold - The story of South Indian Tea'. In 2013, Thomas had written a book on his Nano trip called 'Atop the World'.

Thomas also has his own publishing company, Panthera Imprint Pvt Ltd. (www.indiaimprint.com ), for which he has ghost-written and edited books.

A frank Thomas says that he has had a busier life after retirement. “You must live life in a way that there is something to look forward to, the next day,” he says. “I don't want to be a couch potato. Otherwise, you will age before your time. My trip is a message to other retired persons that age is all in the mind. You are as old as you want to be.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

“Actors should show their deeper feelings”

Says veteran coach, Chris Edmund, whose most famous pupil is the Hollywood star Hugh Jackman

By Shevlin Sebastian

One night, in 2013, acting coach Chris Edmund went to the sets of the film, 'Wolverine', in Sydney, to see his student Hugh Jackman at work. This was at the end of a long working day. “But Hugh's focus remained absolutely intense,” says Edmund. “At every take he was working hard. Very few actors have that kind of focus, dedication and capacity for hard work. I remember thinking, 'Now I understand why Hugh has achieved so much and given such amazing performances on stage and screen.' These qualities have played a vital part in his success in Hollywood.”

Edmund had come to Mumbai recently to give acting workshops for established actors and actresses in Bollywood as well as beginners. He is a veteran at this. Edmund had been the head of the Acting Department at The Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts at Perth for many years. He also had teaching stints in places like London, Hongkong, Dublin and Singapore.

But Edmund is frank enough to admit that very few make it. “Acting is a highly competitive business,” he says. “People have a good career for a while. Then trends change and they no longer get the parts they want. Then there are times when actors drop out in their thirties because they have kids to look after and need financial security. ”

Sometimes, the opposite happens. “People get breaks later in life, because they are at the right place at the right time,” he says. “So, there are all sorts of factors in the life of an artist.”

But there are exceptions too. Exceptional talents like Al Pacino, Robert De Niro and Dustin Hoffman are still doing cutting-edge work in their seventies. “If actors are smart they can reinvent themselves,” says Edmund. “They have to keep changing with the times. The great actors are on a constant quest to keep perfecting their craft. That kind of attitude can help you sustain a long career.”

Incidentally, the actor Edmund admires the most is Marlon Brando (1924-2004). He, of course, had a brilliant career in his early years - 'A Streetcar named Desire, 'On The Waterfront, 'the Godfather' and 'Last Tango In Paris' - followed by a long and painful decline.

“Brando changed acting completely,” says Edmund. “He was physical, organic, in the moment, and brave. He took acting to an extraordinary level. I admired his courage. I love actors who are able to show their deeper feelings. In fact, in drama school, I encourage students to go deep within themselves. But if they say it is painful, then they will not be able to go far. You need to be strong in this regard.”

However, this inner mining can have a negative effect. After the 'Last Tango', Brando had said, “I am never going to go as deep as that. From now on I am going to take the money and not push myself.”

And he never did. “After a time, good acting comes as a cost,” says Edmund. “People can no longer take the strain. And they will say, 'I'll just drive a car'.”

Despite these pitfalls, a lot of students in drama school have high expectations. “Unfortunately, they are in an industry that can be harsh and cruel,” says Edmund. “Building up resistance is necessary. You need to be resilient. And at the same time you have to be sensitive in order to produce good art. So, it is a very precarious balance.”

Unlike earlier times, you can no longer be a suffering artist and wait for roles. “An actor has to be proactive,” he says. “You need to have an awareness of marketing. The industry is changing all the time. So actors have to respond to that. An actor should develop a canny understanding of the various aspects of the industry.”

Asked about his opinion on Hollywood films, Edmund says, “They are too formulaic. Tried and tested themes are the norm. There is a conservative attitude because of the huge cost of making a film. I prefer to watch TV which is breaking boundaries. But the exciting thing today is that you can buy a camera for a few thousand dollars and go out and shoot a film. Young people are so sophisticated about films. I believe the film industry will reinvent itself to remain relevant.”

Meanwhile, regarding his Mumbai experience, Edmund says, “I was delighted to work with [founder] Dalip Sondhi and the [Perth-based] SDDS International Institute for Dramatic Art. I interacted with a wide range of actors and found them to be committed, focussed and anxious to take everything possible from the workshops. It was a joyous experience. I hope very much to return and continue to work with such talented and dynamic people.”

(Published in The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

Artist Slips into the Sunset

Dasan Mekkayail dies while holding his first exhibition in Kochi

by Shevlin Sebastian

Photos by Suresh Nampoothiri

On Saturday evening, Roopa George had gone to the Durbar Hall art gallery, Kochi, to view the paintings of her friend, Minu Ninan. After seeing them, Minu led her to the next hall. The moment, Dasan Mekkayail, 74, saw Roopa, he said, “You look like an artiste.” Which turned out to be true. Roopa is a Bharatanatyam dancer.

Then, Dasan took Roopa and Minu around and showed all of his 22 paintings, a mix of oil and acrylic on canvas, on show. The subjects included the power of the Goddess Durga, a boat ride through the Meenachil River, the beauty of the Athirapally waterfalls, Krishna's Vrindavan, and a loving embrace between two cows.

“But Dasan's Sir's notable work was against excessive drinking,” says Roopa. It is a painting where youths, of different castes and religions, are standing around, in a large ground. A group of women are watching mutely. And at one side, a man is hanging from a scaffold, but the lower half of his body is inside a large glass. There is an image of Mahatma Gandhi behind the man.

“This was Dasan Sir's first exhibition at Kochi,” says Minu. “He had invited me to come to Kozhikode to hold an exhibition there.”

And like a true artist, always on the alert, Dasan felt that Roopa could be a subject of a painting. “You are like a daughter to me,” he said, as he made her sit on a chair and began sketching her. After a few minutes, he looked up and said, “When I go back home, I will develop this.”

Unfortunately, destiny had other plans. On Saturday, at 10 pm, Dasan had a massive heart attack at his lodge near Ernakulam Town railway station. He passed away in minutes, even though he was rushed to Lisie Hospital by his wife, Sathi. At 5 am on Monday, the last day of his exhibition, the body was taken by car to his home town of Kakkodi in Kozhikode. The cremation took place in the afternoon. Dasan was a retired Senior Superintendent of the Kerala State Electricity Board. He leaves behind two sons, Sangeet and Nisheed.

“I am deeply shocked,” says Roopa. “Life is so unpredictable. He was such a nice man.” 

(Published in The New Indian Express, Kochi) 

No Place Like Home

COLUMN: Our House 

Civil Engineer Manaph Sulaiman's house is one which fills him with pride and happiness

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photos: By Ratheesh Sundaram. The house viewed from outside; dining table and chairs placed in the inner courtyard; Manaph Sulaiman and wife Smitha

Just above the door to Manaph Sulaiman's house at Vazhakkala, Kochi, there is a Quran inscription which states, 'This is a gift of God'. In the living room, there are several verses of the Quran, which have been placed in glass frames and put on a wooden mantelpiece.

It is a large and spacious house, with an area of 3300 sq. ft. and set in 56 cents of land. “This is an ancestral property,” says Manaph. “We have been living in this area for about hundred years now. My father and grandfather were businessmen.”

Manaf inherited the tharavad from his father who died 22 years ago. He is a Civil Engineer who works for the Al Habtoor Leighton Group at Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. “Like most people, I wanted to build a house in my own style,” says Manaph.

On the ground floor, inside the house, there is a courtyard, which is covered by a skylight. “As a result, there is plenty of light in the house,” says Manaph.

But now, a dining table and chairs have been put there. Their three children, Fidha, 10, Mohammed Fadhil, 6, and Imtiaz Alam, 4, study there. “Since the kitchen is nearby it is easy to serve them their meals,” says wife Smitha.

At one side, Manaph has constructed a 6 x 3 ft washroom. This is used exclusively to wash the hands and feet before prayers. On the ground floor, there are two bedrooms with attached bathrooms, as well as a working area near the kitchen.

In the dining room, a door leads to the outside. “I made a separate entrance, so that the women can enter through there, during official functions,” says Manaph. “For the men, there is a door which leads into the living room.”

For Manaph, his favourite room is the living room. “It is spacious, has good ventilation and plenty of light comes in because of the large windows,” he says. “When there is a function, a lot of people can be accommodated.”

For Manaf the best part of the day is when the children return home from school, his wife is back from her software engineer's job, at Info Park, and they sit around with his mother and have snacks and chat with each other. “I feel a sense of togetherness,” says Manaf. “This is rare for me, since I work in the Gulf.”

Meanwhile, regarding the design, Thomas Kuruvilla, Principal Architect of Living Stone Architects and Designers, says, “Manaph gave us a sketch. We did the design based on that. The style is a fusion of Mughal and traditional Kerala architecture (nalukettu). To compensate for the courtyard set inside the house, we have made a split-level sit-out above the porch. The house is a mix of curves and squares. The staircase has been designed in an unusual way, with each step having a specific style.”

Indeed, the curved staircase is made in such a way that each step is at a slightly different angle from the next. And the underside of all the steps has been painted in a deep brown colour, which makes it shine. The wood used for the doors and beams is original teak. “Half of the wood has been obtained from the teak trees in my own property,” says Manaph.

On the first floor, there are two bedrooms, with attached bathrooms, as well as a door which leads to the terrace, where wet clothes can be hung. Right on top is a dome. “I added this to create a sense of elevation,” says Manaph.

It took two years to build the house. During the construction, Manaph had been based in Dubai, so he could come home every 45 days or so to oversee the work. “Thankfully, there were no financial or labour problems,” he says. “Architect Thomas ensured that the construction went ahead smoothly.”

And for Manaph, the most memorable event was the housewarming, on May 25, 2014. More than 800 people had been invited. They included friends, relatives, family members, contractors as well as the architects. “Many people said that they liked the house,” he says.

In fact, later, when Manaph returned to Dubai, and showed the pictures to his colleagues, quite a few them liked the design. One friend, Yasin Mohammed, a mechanical engineer, asked Manaph for the building plans. “He told me he wanted a build a similar house in Hyderabad,” says Manaph. “I felt good to hear that. Today, whenever I look at the house, I feel proud and happy.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram) 

The Jewel In The Crown

The newly-built St. George Church at Edapally, Kochi, is drawing visitors from far and near

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photos: By Ratheesh Sundaram. 

Captions: The parish priest Fr. Sebastian Vazhapally; the inside of the church; a painting, made of cement, of Jesus Christ washing the feet of the disciples 

When Joanna Bishop, 28, from Stockholm steps into the St. George Church at Edapally, Kochi, her blue eyes widen in wonder. There is plenty to be wonderstruck about. The large painting of Jesus Christ, with outstretched arms, behind the altar, is awash in dazzling light rays, which is made of gold leaf. The 34 feet high images, etched in cement, of Jesus Christ being baptised by John The Baptist as well as The Last Supper, on either side of the altar, evokes awe. The floor is made of granite, while the funtiture and the wooden carvings have been done on teakwood.

Around 5000 people can be seated inside the church. “Plus, there is space for another 2000 people on the outside deck,” says parish priest Fr. Sebastian Vazhapally. Through several large vents, air is pumped in, from machines placed in the basement, so that the inside remains cool all the time.

Outside, there are arched windows and buttresses, intricate Corinthian columns, and Kerala-style mandalams. “The style is Portuguese-Kerala,” says Fr. Sebastian. “The committee, overseeing the construction, went to 40 churches to see all types of designs before deciding on this style. The building is shaped in the form of an octagon.”

There is a 19 ft. cross on top of the dome of the church. Interestingly, the number of steps you need to climb to reach the entrance is 33, the age of Jesus Christ when he died. There are two bell towers at a height of 82 feet. The total built-up area is a mind-boggling 88,000 sq. feet. And the cost: a cool Rs 33 crore.

“All the money has come from the donations of the faithful,” says Fr. Sebastian. “Like in Sabaramila, there is a deeply-held belief that if you ask a favour from St George, it is usually granted.”

The priest knows of nurses who prayed for jobs in Europe, USA and the Middle East. When the wish comes true, they donate their first salary, of about Rs 2 lakh to the church. But the most unusual aspect is that it attracts people of all faiths.

Recently, Fr. Sebastian saw a black burqa-clad woman, accompanied by a younger woman, and three children enter the church, pray devotedly and then place some money in the donation box. “I was curious enough to approach the elderly lady,” says Fr. Sebastian.

Ameena Thottungal, 65, (name changed) had been coming to the old church for 36 years. And the reason is simple: for ten years following her marriage, she had no children. Then a Christian neighbour told her to go and pray at the St. George Church. She did so. Within months she became pregnant. “I am accompanied by my daughter and grandchildren,” says Ameena. “I am grateful to St. George.”

Incidentally, the church was consecrated on April 19 by Cardinal Mar George Alencherry, the head of the Syro-Malabar church, during a public function attended by Chief Minister Oommen Chandy and luminaries like the singer Yesudas. “It is the one of the largest churches in India,” says Fr. Sebastian. “This church has been built for the people of all faiths: Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, Jains and Parsis.”

Meanwhile, Joanna finishes her tour of the church. “There is so much of decorative work,” she says. “It looks beautiful. The churches in Sweden are simpler. But then Christianity is declining in Europe. It is nice to see that the church is thriving in India.” 

(An edited version appeared in Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)  

Kochi couple makes first-ever Hindi song on ISRO

By Shevlin Sebastian

From the time Joffy Jose was a child, growing up in Guruvayur, he has been fascinated by the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO). “I would read up about ISRO all the time,” says Joffy, who has studied only till Class 10. Following his marriage to Mollywood playback singer Liji Francis, Joffy came up with the idea of doing a song about ISRO.

The music video, a Hindi song by Liji, showcases the major achievements of ISRO, like the launch of the first satellite, Aryabhata, the first mission to the Moon – Chandrayaan-1, as well as the Mars Orbiter Mission (Mangalayaan).

The song, which has been written by lyricist V. Mahadevan, begins like this:

Theree Kasam

Aan Aur Shaan Hum Laayenge

Maa Theree Kasam

Roshan Karenge Theree Naam.

Aasmaan Ko Chuenge

Thaaraon Se Milenge

Aan Aur Shaan Hum Laayenge

(Promise on you

We shall bring pride and prestige

Mother India

Promise on you.

Your name will be made brighter

We shall touch the skies

Meet with the stars

We shall bring pride and prestige)

The couple's four-year-old daughter, Velga, runs aloft with an Indian flag in the five-minute video. The others who were involved are Mollywood personnel Binu Parameshwaram (camera), Philip Jaykumar (music), Rathyush Ramachandran (technical advisor) and Abdul Jabbar (editing/direction).

“They asked for little,” says the Kochi-based Joffy, who runs Gulf Tech, an electrical and home appliance maintenance firm. “In fact, they were keen to be part of the project.” Overall, Joffy and Liji had to spend Rs 3 lakh.

“I don't have a problem with the cost,” says Liji. “The idea is very interesting. I believe it will appeal to young and old alike. This is the first song ever on ISRO.”

The couple showed the video to Thrikkakara MLA Benny Behanan, who liked it. He then arranged for Chief Minister Oommen Chandy to view it at Cliff House, Thiruvananthapuram. Later, the CM agreed to release it, provided there is an all-clear by ISRO. So, the couple went to Bangalore and met the then Chairman K. Radhakrishnan last year.

“Radhakrishnan Sir also liked the song,” says Joffy. “But he said he would prefer images of him to be replaced by team pics.”

Joffy and Liji felt encouraged. There were a few exchanges of e-mails. But once Radhakrishnan retired on December 31, 2014, there has been no response from ISRO. After a seven-month lull, Joffy is now planning to petition Prime Minister Narendra Modi to release it. 

(The New Indian Express, Kerala editions) 

The Sound of Love

COLUMN: Spouse's Turn

Jesna Joy talks about life with the ace musician Stephen Devassy

By Shevlin Sebastian

When Jesna Joy's father told her that there was a proposal from Stephen Devassy's family, she was not very keen. She had just completed her B. Tech from Kumaraguru College of Technology, Coimbatore, and was planning to go for higher studies abroad. “Dad found it difficult to say no because we are close family friends,” says Jesna. “So he told me to meet Stephen. And if I did not like him, then we could leave it.”

At that time, Jesna was staying with her parents in Dubai. The day before Stephen was supposed to come and meet her, she prayed to God. At the end, she said, “If we are supposed to be together, please make Stephen wear a white shirt and blue jeans.”

The next day, they met at a cafe at the Dubai Festival City. While Jesna came with her parents, Stephen was accompanied by his elder brother Sam. They had flown in from Chennai.

But the moment Jesna saw Stephen, she got a shock. Stephen was wearing a white shirt and blue jeans. “That was a turning point for me,” says Jesna. “I realised that this was a sign from God.”

Four days later, she gave her assent to the marriage. The wedding took place, on November 16, 2010, at the Indian Pentecostal church at Ottappalam. And at the wedding reception, Jesna remembers, celebrity musician Shivamani came to the stage, raised his hands, and blessed the couple.

One day later, she was in Delhi because Stephen was performing in a show in honour of the Dalai Lama. It was the first time Jesna was seeing her husband play at a concert. “There is no doubt that Stephen has a God-gifted talent,” she says. Jesna also met celebrities like Mahesh Bhatt and Rani Mukherjee. “I was in awe,” she says. “I was thinking, 'From where to where God has taken me. I had been getting prepared for something else in life'.”

After the show, Stephen and Jesna met the Dalai Lama. “He told Stephen that he liked his way of playing Western fusion, and blessed him,” says Jesna.

Today, the couple lives in Mumbai with their five-month old son, Shawn. Asked to list Stephen's plus points, Jesna says, “He is a very loving person and always buys me gifts.” After his last international trip, to the USA, last month, Stephen presented Jesna with a bag which contained an I Phone, a perfume called One Million, a Michael Kors watch, sandals and handbags.

As soon as he returns home, after a long tour, he takes the family out for dinner, “That is because I am a foodie,” says Jesna, with a smile.

And because Jesna loves travelling, Stephen has taken her to many places – the USA, Singapore, Malaysia, Germany, Spain, Austria and Switzerland. Their last trip was to Rio Di Janeiro in Brazil. “It was a breath-taking experience to see the Chris The Redeemer statue [located at the top of the Corcovado Mountain],” says Jesna. “We also spent time on the beautiful Copacabana beach. The Brazilian people are friendly and outgoing.”

Stephen is also outgoing as a father. “He loves to spend time with Shawn,” says Jesna. “In fact, he is sometimes amazed that he has become a father.”

Despite this deep affection for their child, Jesna is frank enough to say that music is Stephen's first love. “Stephen has been in love with music for as long as he can remember,” says Jesna. “He has been in the profession for 18 years, while I came into his life only four-and-a-half years ago.”

Asked about his negative traits, Jesna says, “Like any artiste, Stephen has mood swings. He gets upset and angry very suddenly. He can also get excited and happy very quickly. I have got used to it. I can see his mood changes on his face. At heart, he is a child. And I try to give him the space he needs.”

Stephen needs the space because he does a lot of the composing in a small studio at his home. He works late into the night. “But he tries to wake up by 9 a.m.,” says Jesna. “After breakfast, he spends some time with us. Then he goes to his studio to do some work. 

Thereafter, he works out at a nearby gym. He is careful about his health. In the evenings also, he does gym work. And he keeps a sharp watch on what he eats.” However, for the major part of the month, Stephen is travelling, for performances, so Jesna has learnt to manage the home on her own.

Finally, when asked to give tips for a successful marriage, Jesna says, “In every marriage you have to give it some time. In the initial months, it can be very tough, but you have to be patient. You should stay together no matter what happens. I believe that nothing can work out without the help of prayer. Human beings have limits. So you need to rely on a limitless divine power. It is also good to remember that, at all times, God is with us.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram) 

Birdwoman!

Artist Sreeja Kalappurakkal pastes the feathers of birds onto her paintings. The effect is charming and attractive

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photos by Ratheesh Sundaram

In the 1980s, Excise Inspector Vijay Kumar would go in search of bootleg smugglers in the Nilambur Forests of Kerala. During his work, he would also have an assignment given by his eight-year-old daughter Sreeja Kalappurakkal. Vijay had to collect the fallen feathers of birds. “From childhood, collecting feathers was a great passion for me,” says Sreeja. “I would also go in search of it in the nearby houses and gardens.”

Once she got a feather, she would clean it with soap and water, then place it inside a folded paper, and write the name of the bird on top. “A feather is like a human hair,” says Sreeja. “It lasts a long time.”

When she grew up, Sreeja got married and went to Mumbai in 1999. Then her mother gave the feathers away to various nephews and nieces. When in 2002, Sreeja returned and settled down in her hometown, Thrissur, she got a shock to know that her collection no longer existed. Undeterred, she began once more.

Some pet-bird owners gave feathers easily. Others would say a point-blank no.
Meanwhile, she had a stroke of luck when she met businessman Vinod Davy. “He has birds worth Rs 20 lakh in his house,” says Sreeja. “Vinod would just open his cages and allow me to go in. I got a lot of feathers like this. Anil Thambi, another bird owner, also helped me a lot, apart from my friends.”

Today, Sreeja has a collection of 500 feathers. They include the feathers of pet birds like parakeets, macaques, pigeons, kites, cockatoos, egrets, pheasants, canaries and parrots.

Sometime, last year, Sreeja stumbled onto an idea: to paste the feathers onto the paintings that she was doing. So, for her first exhibition, at Thrissur, of flora and fauna, she used feathers as part of the drawings. So, instead of drawing leaves, she would paste the feathers. “People expressed a lot of appreciation,” she says. “Quite a few wanted to know how it was done. Many were shocked to know that there are so many types of birds in Kerala.”

The second exhibition, not surprisingly, was on birds. So, she would paint the head and the beak, and then put actual feathers for the wings. “I use Fevicol to paste the feathers,” she says. Sreeja has also used feathers for her paintings on tribals, landscapes, houses, people, paddy fields, a swarm of fish, peacocks and butterflies. The end-result is charming: you feel drawn to the paintings simply because feathers have always had a magical effect on people, right from one's childhood.

In her daily life, Sreeja is a drawing teacher at the Harisree Vidyanikethan school. So, she starts work on her paintings, only at 9 p.m., after her ten-year-old son has gone to sleep. And she works late into the night. “It can get very hot, since I cannot switch on the fan, as the feathers will get blown away,” says Sreeja.

Incidentally, her passion has enabled Sreeja to get an entry in the India Book Of Records. “I have the largest feather collection combined with art works,” she says. Today, Sreeja is giving the final touches on a book on art, which will be published in a few months time. 

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

A Multi-Dimensional Icon

Lawyer K. V. Prakash has brought out a 85-minute documentary on the life and times of the late Justice VR Krishna Iyer

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photos: K.V. Prakash -- Photo by Suresh Napoothiri; Cover of the DVD

When lawyer K. V. Prakash approached Justice VR Krishna Iyer to make a documentary on his life, the latter got very excited. It was a couple of months before his 100^th birthday, on November 15, 2014. But Prakash needed funds to do the filming. So he and Justice T.V. Ramakrishnan (Retd.) drafted a letter. It was shown to Iyer. He made some changes.

A list of 28 senior lawyers in the Supreme Court, as well as the High Court of Kerala was made. They included people like Soli Sorabjee, Fali S Nariman, Harish Salve, Gopal Subramaniam, and Indira Jaisingh. But then suddenly Iyer fell ill. “He could no longer sign letters,” says Prakash. “I was in a dilemma on what to do.”

 

Prakash decided to seek divine guidance. So, one morning, he went to the Ganapati temple at Edapally and offered a ‘Mrthvinjaya Homam’ in the name of Iyer. When he returned home, Prakash closed his eyes and took out one letter from among the 28. It turned out to be that of Harish Salve, senior advocate of the Supreme Court of India.

Thereafter, Prakash took the letter and met Iyer at the hospital. And, somehow, even though the eminent judge was gravely ill, he managed to sign the letter in a shaky handwriting that went from the left to the middle of the page.

Thereafter, the letter was sent to Salve. And then the miracle happened. Salve, who admired Iyer immensely, agreed to fund the entire film.

On April 7, 2015, the 85-minute documentary, 'Life A Saga', was released by Ashok Bhushan, the Chief Justice of the Kerala High Court. “The film traces Iyer's life from the room he was born in, at the village of Shekharipuram in Palakkad, to his cremation in Kochi,” says Prakash.

There are scenes set in his father's native place of Vaidyanathapuram. Iyer's father was a successful lawyer as well as a social activist. “In 1920, his father was the only one to own a Ford car in the area,” says Prakash.

Iyer began his legal career as an apprentice in the Calicut Court. Much later, in Tellicherry, his career gathered steam. Soon, he built a house on eight acres of land, facing the sea. However, when he got selected as a member of the Law Commission in Delhi, Iyer decided to sell the house. The buyer was the Catholic Bishop of Tellicherry.

At the Bishop's House, Mar George Valiamattam told Prakash that Iyer had showed the file which contained the entire expense of constructing the house. “He said, ‘Look at the amount I spent on the house and just give me that, along with the land value shown in the sale deed',” says Prakash. “And he kept his word and took that amount only. There was no profit for Iyer.”

In Delhi, as a member of the Law Commission, his main contribution was in providing legal aid to the poor. Later, when Iyer was appointed as a Supreme Court judge, he made landmark judgements on several subjects, like interpreting the powers of the Cabinet with that of the President, and gender discrimination. In the latter case, C.B. Muthamma was denied promotion to the post of Foreign Secretary because of her gender. But Iyer sided with her.

Not surprisingly, he has many admirers. In the film, Harish Salve says, “Justice Krishna Iyer is a remarkable son of India, whether as a politician, minister, lawyer, judge, and, after his retirement, as a jurist, social activist and a conscience-keeper of the nation.”

Former IG of Prisons Kiran Bedi said that, at Tihar Jail, she followed all the recommendations of the judgement made by Iyer regarding the proper treatment of prisoners.

Meanwhile, Prakash has some interesting moments during the shoot. He went to Salem to find the house where Iyer met his wife Sharada for the first time.

“Sharada came from a good family,” says Prakash. “Her father Parameshwar Iyer was a munsiff at Tellicherry court. Iyer won a case there. An impressed Parameshwar decided he should become his son-in-law. However, by that time, Parameshwar was transferred to Salem as a sub-judge.”

In Salem, nobody could point out to Prakash the house where the sub-judge stayed. “In those days, the judges travelled in horse-drawn carriages,” says Prakash. “And these horses could not travel more than ten kilometres in one direction. I met all the people above 80 years who lived in a diameter of 10 kms around the court. But nobody could identify the house.”

However, on the fourth day, a woman, in her nineties, remembered the sub-judge and knew where he lived. “And that was how I finally located the house,” says Prakash, with a smile. “The scene lasts only a few seconds on the screen.”

Asked about the quality that he most admired in Iyer, Prakash says, “He was always courageous. Most judges, when they are close to retirement, will plan on getting an assignment from the government. But Iyer Sir never cared for that. The law, he always said, should be for the benefit of the people.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram) 

A Rescue In The Nick Of Time

Radhika Menon, the first woman captain of the Indian Merchant Navy, orchestrates rescue of stranded fishermen off the coast of Orissa

By Shevlin Sebastian

At noon, on June 22, second officer Manoj Chauhan, of the ship, 'Sampurna Swarajya', noticed a boat two-and-a-half kms away, off the coast of Gopalpur, Orissa. Owing to a deep depression there were fierce winds and rains. The wind speed was 60 to 70 knots, while the waves rose to a height of 25-27 feet. As a result, the boat was being tossed up and down.

Manoj informed Radhika Menon, the first woman captain of the Indian Merchant Navy. “When I looked through my binoculars, they were waving their shirts and clearly asking for help,” says Radhika, who is from Kodungallur, Kochi.

She immediately ordered a rescue operation. “We put out the pilot ladder, and kept on standby, life jackets and buoys,” says Radhika. Because of the turbulent sea, it took three attempts before all seven were rescued.

The fishermen, who ranged in age from the 15-year old Perla Mahesh to Narasimha Murthy, 50, were in bad shape. They were weak, starving and frightened. The food and water had been washed away. They survived by sucking on ice cubes from the cold storage, which is used for preserving the fish.

They were from Kakinada and had set out on the night of June 16. “Suddenly, the weather turned bad,” says Radhika. “Then the engine failed. So they decided to anchor the boat. Unfortunately, they lost the anchor, and were drifting for six days, before we spotted them.”

At their homes, their families had given up hope. They were sure the fishermen has drowned. Tents had been erected outside their homes to conduct funeral ceremonies. So, it came as a big shock when the fishermen were able to talk to their families through satellite phone and convey the good news that they were alive. Eventually, they were reunited with their families on June 29, when the ship berthed at Vishakapatnam.

“It was the humane thing to do,” says Radhika. “They told me that if we had not spotted them, they would have died. Which is probably true.” 

(Page 1, New Indian Express, Kerala editions)

Many Moods of The Master

​Top Karnataka director Girish Kasaravalli has made an absorbing 90-minute documentary on Adoor Gopalakrishnan, one of Kerala's great directors

By Shevlin Sebastian 

Photo by Ratheesh Sundaram

One day, a couple of years ago, V.S. Kundu, the Director-General of the Films Division of India called top Karnataka director Girish Kasaravalli and gave him a proposal: could he do a 90 minute documentary on Adoor Gopalakrishnan, one of Kerala's great directors. Kasaravalli was hesitant. “I am a feature film director,” he says. “Documentaries are not my domain.” But, later, Gopalakrishnan called Kasaravalli up and said, “It will be a different type of documentary if you do it.”

Encouraged, Kasaravalli got down to work. He read many articles and interviews of Adoor, as well as two books: 'Adoor Gopalakrishnan: A Life In Cinema' by journalist Gautam Bhaskaran and a book of essays called 'A Door to Adoor', which was brought out by the South Asian Foundation. "I also viewed his films repeatedly to form an understanding of his work,” says Kasaravalli. “Unlike me, Adoor is a minimalist. He has been influenced a lot by Kathakali, which also uses a minimalistic approach.”

After working on the script for one-and-a-half years, the film was shot over a 30-day period in Thiruvananthapuram and its environs. And the end result, 'Images and Reflections: A Journey into Adoor's Imagery', is an absorbing one. Not surprisingly, there are several distinguished talking heads: the historian KN Panikkar, acclaimed directors Shyam Benegal and Mrinal Sen, the veteran Malayali actor, KPAC Lalitha, senior Kerala-based journalists CS Venkiteswaran and Gouridasan Nair, Gopalakrishnan's daughter, Aswathi Dorje, and, not to forget, the maestro himself.

But it is the Mumbai-based Uma D'Cunha, who does the English subtitles of Gopalakrishnan's films, who caught his personality well. “Adoor looks like a humble person but inside he has an immense confidence,” says Uma. “It is the simplicity in which he tells the story, the way he presents human beings, with all their feelings that somehow the politics does not take centre stage. What takes centre stage is the human being. Therefore, they have a powerful impact on the viewer.” 

And, rightly, Kasaravalli has focused on the acclaimed films like 'Elippathayam', 'Mukhamukham', 'Anantaram', 'Mathilukal', 'Kathapurushan' and 'Naalu Pennungal'.

The film is also studded with insights by Gopalakrishnan himself. Here is one about endings in films: “One of the difficulties I face is that the audience wants everything to be told, so that they can forget about it. But I want them to take the ideas home and ruminate over it. At the end of each film, I don't say this is all. Life goes on. This is only one ending that I have given. But there are several endings.”

Unusually, Gopalakrishan's daughter, Aswathi, talks about her father's childhood. “My father grew up in a joint family, where there were several uncles, aunts, cousins, and other relatives,” she says. “It was an environment which allowed him a lot of freedom. In a house which was full of children, nobody paid attention to him. It allowed a lot of room for creativity to come in.”

Kasaravalli has to be complimented for the manner in which he has been able to draw out all the participants including Gopalakrishnan himself. “Adoor is a warm person,” says Kasaravalli. “He is very committed to his art. But more than anything, Adoor is very accommodative. We vibed very well. I found the exercise of making the film very fruitful.” 

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