Long-term impact

Rooma Sarika runs the ‘Rooma Permanent Cosmetics’ clinic at Kochi. She talks about the many beneficial treatments 

By Shevlin Sebastian 

The doorbell rang at the flat in Mumbai. Priya Sharma opened the door. It was her former boyfriend Deepak. He had a small plastic bottle with him. It was uncapped. He threw the liquid at her face. She moved sideways, but drops of liquid still fell on her face. She screamed. Deepak fled. Priya realised he had come to take revenge. A week ago, she had ended their two-year relationship. 

The 30-year-old went to the hospital. The treatment did not cure her. Her lips fell to one side. One eyebrow had gone. She had to keep using the eyeliner to make an eyebrow but it gave off an artificial look. 

One day, her Delhi-based aunt Mona, who runs a chain of nail studios, called her.  Priya told her about the problems with her face. “I have a solution,” Mona said. 

About a month earlier, Mona did a Google search to look for beauty therapists who did permanent make-up. And she came across the name of Rooma VS who runs a clinic, ‘Rooma Permanent Cosmetics’ in Kathrikadavu, Kochi. She called Rooma, fixed an appointment, flew down and got her eyebrows fixed and lip contouring. 

So Priya called Rooma, and came to Kochi.  

When Rooma had a look, she saw that the acid had damaged the eyebrows and an area near the eyes. Her lips did not have a proper shape. “This affected her self-confidence,” she says. “But the other side of her face looked beautiful.” 

Rooma propagates a technique called microblading. It is a method by which, with the help of microblades, a pigment is placed in the upper layers of the skin. This results in eyebrows becoming full and it can be shaped in a way the client wants. This lasts for two years. Rooma imports healthy pigments from the PhiAcademy, USA.

Rooma’s first celebrity client was a noted singer and popular Malayalam TV anchor. Rooma worked on the eyebrows and made it permanent. “I also made the eyeliner permanent,” she says. “So, before a shoot, she does not have to bother about her eyebrows and eyes at all.” 

Another Mollywood star is also a client. She wanted her eyebrows to be done. So Rooma used the microblading technique. So happy was the actress with the treatment, she appeared in an online advertisement for the beauty clinic. 

For celebrities, this treatment is a God-send. Because of the mobile phone, people are always taking photos. “So even if a guest comes to the house, they have to rush and put on make-up, because there is a high possibility of a selfie being taken with them,” says Rooma. “It will be uploaded on social media, and so they must look good all the time. That is why permanent eyebrows are an enormous help.” 

On being asked whether women come to beautify themselves, so that they can look good for their spouses, Rooma laughs and says, “No, it has got nothing to do with husbands. Women want to increase their confidence levels by looking good. Plus, it will help them in their careers like acting and in jobs where they have to interact with the public.” 

Rooma has a wide range of customers: from 25 to 72. But most of the clients are in the 30 to 40-year age group. 

Women with distinctive problems come to see Rooma. One woman told her that because of an illness she lost her eyebrows. So, she could never step out of her bedroom without using a pencil and making lines. Unfortunately, the eyebrows looked fake. “She had become self-conscious,” said Rooma. “So, she felt relieved when she could get permanent eyebrows.”  

Some suffer from alopecia (spot baldness) and have lost their eyebrows. This also happens to women who have undergone chemotherapy. 

Apart from microblading, other services include permanent eyeliner and lip contouring. 

Sometimes, when women smoke too much, their lips can grow dark. Or it could be because of the daily use of lipstick, which has lead and mercury in it. To hide the dark patches, they increase the use of lipstick. “But this is like a slow poison,” says Rooma. 

In lip contouring, Roopa replaces the underlying melanin, a natural skin pigment with mineral pigments. “These are safe,” says Rooma. “It is only metallic pigments that have a side-effect because it gets oxidised. After the procedure, you need not use lipstick at all.”  

Another procedure is the lifting of the eyelids through plasma treatment. After the age of 30, the collagen content in the skin goes down. When this happens, the skin tends to collapse. “By using a small needle, I try to create some breaks. This will allow the body to make collagen naturally, and the drooping will go away,” she says. Earlier, people used Botox, but it resulted in deposits under the skin. 

Rooma is also adept at hair extensions. The earlier way was to put clip-on extensions, but that damaged the roots of the hair. “You have to remove it often,” she says. “We use micro ring hair extensions. You don’t need glue, heat or braids.”  

The strands, matching the original hair colour, are placed seamlessly into the hairline.  “You cannot spot the difference,” says Rooma. “The advantage of these types of extensions is that you can wash and comb your hair and nobody will notice the difference. These are also lightweight so that the wearer will not even feel there is extra hair.” 

It is clear while talking to Rooma that she has a passion for her job. And this love began very early. 

Early influences 

One of Rooma’s aunts ran a beauty boutique in Mumbai. During summer vacations, she would come to the ancestral house at Ambalapuzha, in Kochi, where Rooma lived with her maternal grandmother. (Rooma’s father, who worked in the Central Reserve Police Force, had a transferable job). 

As a child, Rooma idolized her aunt. “She was very beautiful and wore impeccable make-up, with lipstick and mascara,” says Rooma. “I got interested in cosmetics from that age.”  

After her schooling at the St Mary’s School in Kayamkulam, she did her pre-degree at the Fatima Mata National College in Kollam. At that time, she came across a course for beauty therapists in the newspaper. They would conduct the theory classes through the post. And then she had to do some practical classes. She did not tell her family as nearly all of them are doctors and engineers. “They would not be interested in me doing this course,” says Rooma. “So, I did the course without telling my father. But I confided in my mother, and she gave me the money to do it.”    

After her BA from the same college, Rooma moved to Kochi where she got a job in Naturals Cosmetics at their Kadavanthra branch. She gained plenty of experience by working there. Later, she became a trainer for other beauty therapists. 

In 2013, she got an opportunity to do a three-year degree in cosmetology at the Houston Community College in the USA. When she finished that, she took a 1000 sq. ft area, and opened a beauty centre at Houston.

This location turned out to be lucky. Because right next to her centre, former Mollywood star Divya Unni was running the Sreepādam School of Arts. Rooma befriended Divya, and the latter sent many clients to her. 

“Divya gave a lot of support to me,” says Rooma. At that time, she got a chance to do a six-month course at the PhiAcademy on permanent cosmetics.  

Soon, Rooma got the idea to start a clinic in Kochi. This came to fruition on September 10, 2018. “Ordinarily, I would have been just a cosmetologist and a beauty therapist,” says Rooma. “But the course at the PhiAcademy was a game-changer.” 

Today, she is the only one to offer permanent make-up in Kerala. And the clients are coming from all over India. The reviews have been good.

S. Krishna Som, who did microblading and hair extensions, says, “I am very happy with the quality and efficiency of their services. Also, the products are of superior quality. Rooma and her team are dextrous and qualified.” 

Priya Anoopkumar says, “Rooma has added a new light in the life of people suffering from alopecia. This is the best service available in Kochi.” 

Annu Philip, who works in the airline industry, had suffered from thinning hair for many years. It affected her poise and self-confidence. “When I did my hair extensions, I felt so good,” she says. “A big thanks to Rooma.”

(Published in Unique Times)

Lessons in the drizzle

By Shevlin Sebastian 

It’s drizzling

But it doesn’t matter.

I am running, 

Around the Jawaharlal Nehru stadium 

At Kochi.

The ground is wet,

There are water patches around.

So, I take careful steps.

As I go around, 

I see a young man,

In a hoodie, 

And track pants.

He is talking, 

On the mobile phone. 

Standing beneath an awning.

Must be to his girlfriend, 

Because he is smiling.

I think to myself, 

‘What a wastrel. Do some exercise. Get fit’.

But he is oblivious. 

During my next lap,

I see,

A friend has joined him. 

‘Two wastrels’, I think, 

As I start panting.

My middle-age lungs, 

Are aching.

But I like the suffering, 

Because it makes me feel good.

When I stop.

On my third round, 

They are peeling off their track pants.

I run on..

The drizzle has eased up, 

A cool breeze is blowing. 

My perspiration-drenched forehead 

Gets some relief.

Running triggers 

Something primitive in me. 

This is what man did, 

For thousands of years. 

Before the invention 

Of the wheel.

I can hear the thud of feet 

Hitting the ground

Behind me.

It sounds like heartbeats.

Then these two young men,

Whom I derided, 

Whizzed past me 

At high speed. 

Smooth electrifying movements 

Of hands and feet. 

‘What?’ I exclaim silently in my head

My perception was 

Oh so wrong. 

They are athletes, 

And they are swift.

And they splash, 

Through the puddles. 

Fearlessly. 

So I had simply 

Misunderstood them.

That’s what happens to all of us

We misunderstand 

People. 

Places. 

Communities. 

Religions.

Spouses. 

Children.

Parents. 

Relatives.

Is it any surprise, 

Society is so fractured.  

I feel like a fool 

Message to me: don’t jump to conclusions, 

Ever. 

(Published in Hello Poetry)

In the spotlight for six decades

Tamil writer Vaasanthi writes about the life and times of five-time Chief Minister MK Karunanidhi

Pics: The cover; Author Vaasanthi

By Shevlin Sebastian  

Karunanidhi’s father Muthuvelar was playing the instrument called the nadaswaram. The ten-year-old listened as the raga Sankarabharnam filled the room of their home in Tamil Nadu. 

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. When Muthuvelar opened the door, a man said, “Pannaiyar (landowner) wants you to come and see him.” 

As Muthuvelar set out, Karunanidhi also followed. When his father approached the landlord who was sitting on a swing, Muthuvelar bent his torso and spoke in a deferential tone. 

After a brief conversation, they returned. But it upset Karunanidhi that his father had to be deferential. Muthuvelar was a farmer who could read and write in Tamil and Sanskrit, and a poet who could recite the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. 

This incident sparked an aversion in the boy towards the caste hierarchy. “Karunanidhi felt that there was too much of discrimination,” says Tamil writer Vaasanthi, who has just penned the book, ‘Karunanidhi: The Definitive Biography’, which has been published by Juggernaut. “It left a deep mark on Karunanidhi and it lasted till his death in 2018 at 94. It shaped his policies. He felt he had to be just to the underprivileged.” 

The idea to write the book came at the suggestion of Kannan Sundaram, the editor of Tamil literary magazine Kalachuvadu. Vaasanthi had written a biography of Jayalalithaa earlier, and the first edition became a best-seller. So, she agreed to write on Karunanidhi. When Juggernaut Publishing came to know that she was writing on Karunanidhi they asked her whether she would do an English version. And Vaasanthi concurred.

Another reason why she wanted to write the book was that Karunanidhi was a multi-faceted individual: apart from politics, he was a talented scriptwriter, editor, writer and orator. “People outside Tamil Nadu knew little about Karunanidhi as compared to Jayalalithaa,” she says. 

Jayalalithaa was a Brahmin who belonged to an affluent family. She had an English education. Later, she became a film star and a close friend of superstar MG Ramachandran (MGR), the founder of the All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam, who became the Chief Minister. “MGR made her the propaganda secretary of the party, so she had an easy entry into politics,” says Vaasanthi. As for Karunanidhi, he belonged to the backward community. 

As to how Karunanidhi could reach the top in a caste-conscious society, Vaasanthi says that when he was growing up, it was a time of great ferment. The freedom movement was taking place. At the same time, Tamil pride was resurgent.

British missionary Reverend Robert Caldwell said that Tamil was an independent language and had no links to Sanskrit, unlike other languages. That had a big impact on the Tamil psyche. In the 1930s, E.V Ramasamy Naicker, who later came to be known as Periyar (The Elder), came up with his anti-Brahmin stance and caused a stir. “This appealed to the young Karunanidhi, as he remembered the humiliation of his father,” says Vaasanthi. “So he was in the right place at the right time. Karunanidhi was also intelligent, hard-working and ambitious.”  

For her research, Vaasanthi met up with politicians belonging to different parties. K S Radhakrishnan, a member of Karunanidhi’s party, the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK), gave her access to a vast library at his home. “It was astounding,” says Vaasanthi. “There were articles, photographs, history of the Dravidian movement, the journals of the founder Periyar, film scripts and copies of the daily letters that Karunanidhi wrote to the workers in ‘Murasoli’, the party organ.” These were neatly bound in several volumes. The entire first floor has been dedicated to this archive.  

As the editor of the Tamil edition of India Today for ten years during the 1990s, Vaasanthi gained a deep knowledge of the leaders of the two Dravidian parties and their functioning, and that helped in writing the book. She did not read any biography on Karunanidhi written in Tamil or English before writing the book. However, during her research she came across Sandhya Ravishankar’s book on Karunanidhi in English.  

As a journalist, Vaasanthi had interacted with Karunanidhi’s children, MK Stalin, MK Alagiri and Kanimozhi, but did not speak to them specifically when she was writing the book. She did, however, speak to Shanmuganathan, Karunanidhi’s long-standing personal assistant, and Durai Murugan, a prominent leader of the DMK and a close friend of Karunanidhi. 

Apart from that, Vaasanthi had many personal interactions with Karunanidhi and developed a close rapport.   

She also read the six-volume autobiography titled ‘Nenjukku Needhi’ (Justice of the Heart). “There was sparse information about the childhood of Karunanidhi,” she says. “So the first volume was invaluable for me.” 

Vaasanthi knew that the five-time Chief Minister had the state of Tamil Nadu foremost in his heart. “The North, for a long time, believed he was a secessionist, but Karunanidhi always stressed on the concept of federalism,” she says. “He strived for greater autonomy for the states within a strong, federal structure at the Centre.” 

However, if Karunanidhi had been alive now, he would have been upset at the way the Centre is squeezing the states’ decision-making abilities and financial freedom. “The Centre is doing this because it has an absolute majority in Parliament,” says Vaasanthi. “The Opposition is weak. But he would have never shirked from raising his voice. Instead, he would have galvanised the opposition.” 

But Karunanidhi had his flaws, too. He misjudged the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) of Sri Lanka. “It shocked him when the LTTE carried out the assassination of [Indian Prime Minister] Rajiv Gandhi in 1991 at Sriperumbudur,” says Vaasanthi. “He had wanted to help his fellow Tamils across the Palk Strait. But the problem was that Karunanidhi did not understand the mindset of LTTE supremo V. Prabhakaran.” 

On being asked whether she learned anything new about Jayalalithaa and Karunanidhi, Vaasanthi says, “Even though both were powerful leaders, with a mass base, they were very vulnerable. They could be fooled into thinking somebody is honest or a loyal friend. And because of the isolation that supreme power brings, both were very lonely.” 

But as an administrator, Vaasanathi had no doubts that Karunanidhi was far better. 

“He would have efficiently handled the current pandemic,” says Vaasanthi. “His advantage was that the bureaucrats revered him and implemented all his orders at once.”

The quality that Vasaanthi admired the most about Karunanidhi was his power of conviction. “You have to believe in what you do or say,” says Vaasanthi. “He was such a powerful Dravidian leader. He played his cards very well about being secular and protecting the rights of the states.”   

But like most human beings, there was a marked decline at the end. His health broke down and it pained him that his beloved daughter Kanimozhi had to spend six months at Tihar Jail in 2011 because she was an accused in the 2G telecom scam.

“By then he became silent because doctors had inserted a tracheostomy tube in his throat to help him breathe,” says Vaasanthi.  

All these details and many more are crammed into the 259-page narrative. The book is an enjoyable read. Vaasanthi is a seasoned writer. She has published 40 novels and six short story collections. So, she knows how to write in a gripping style. There is an intensity of tone that seems to ensure a reader will follow her to the very end, despite the never-ending distractions of Whatsapp and social media. 

(Published in HuffPost India)

Facing the abyss

Stakeholders in Fort Kochi and Jew Town, including Kashmiri shop owners, restaurant owners, travel agents, businessmen and homestay owners are struggling, but hope is not lost

Photos: Jew Town; Sajid Husain Khatai; Junaid Sulaiman; Sajid Saj with foreign guests 

By Shevlin Sebastian 

On most mornings, Sajid Hussain Khatai goes to his shop in Jew Town, on the road leading to the Jewish Synagogue. He switches on the fans and lights. He is aware no customers are going to come. But Sajid is doing this, to prevent fungus attacking his carpets, shawls and cotton textiles. He keeps it open till 2 p.m. Then he returns home. 

But now, with rising rates of coronavirus victims, Fort Kochi is in lockdown. 

Sajid stays three kilometres from his shop. And he has been unable to open the shop. But the situation in the shop is not alarming. 

However, Sajid is wondering about the state of the goods in his friends’ shops. These have been closed for three months. “Most of the carpets will be spoiled,” he says. 

Sajid is from Srinagar. He came to Jew Town in 1998. He is one of the first Kashmiris to settle in Fort Kochi. Like most Kashmiris, he runs a handicrafts shop. He has another shop, near the Mattancherry boat jetty. 

Kashmiris have about 110 shops in the area. A total of 450 Kashmiris stay in Jew Town and Fort Kochi. But about 440 people have gone back. Sajid has stayed back because his wife works in the MG Road branch of The Jammu & Kashmir Bank. His two daughters study in Choice School. Now they are attending online classes. 

“The economic damage is huge,” he says. “Our business depends on tourists. Now, there is nobody. We have been suffering for the past few months. The reason many Kashmiris left was to avoid paying the home rent.” 

Interestingly, many of those who have gone back to Srinagar have started other businesses. One person has started a wholesale business in garments; another has become a transporter; a third one has become a distributor. “If they succeed, they might not return,” he says. 

Sajid feels that nothing will happen in the upcoming tourist season which starts from October and ends in March next year. “The only way foreigners will come is if a vaccine is found,” he says. “Otherwise, nobody will take the risk of travelling. I believe this will be the case with domestic tourists, too.” 

He has spoken to travel agents and they expect that things will return to normal only by August 2021. The problem is that since economies have gone into a tailspin all over the world very few people will have the money to travel. “They will be more interested in clearing their debts,” says Sajid. “Bread and butter issues will be paramount. So, the last thing on their minds will be travel.” 

It is a cloudy morning. Junaid Sulaiman is standing in front of a building which he owns, just next to the Synagogue. “It looks like a full-fledged hartal,” he says, as he points at the empty street and the shuttered shops. “In the months of November to February, because of the presence of so many foreign tourists, I would feel I am in a European country. But now all that is gone.” 

As for the Synagogue it has been closed for the first time in 452 years. 

Junaid runs the Mocha Art Cafe. His patrons have included the famed Hollywood director Steven Spielberg and the Vietnamese photographer Nick Ut who shot the Pulitzer Prize-winning photo of children fleeing a bombed-out village in Vietnam. 

He closed the cafe on March 14, when he heard that some foreigners in Munnar had been afflicted with coronavirus. He felt he could open on April 1. 

But his plans went haywire. “We never imagined it would last for so long,” says Junaid. 

Out of ten staffers, three have gone back home. At the cafe, there is a manager, an executive chef, two baristas (coffee experts), one sous chef, and a sweeper. Junaid continues to pay their salaries. 

One day, Junaid got a call from Aneesh Sharafudeen, the Kerala state head of garment company FabIndia asking for a cut in the rent. The company has a showroom in Junaid’s building. 

He replied he would think about it. Junaid, who owns the most number of buildings in Jew Town, consulted with the other owners. In the end, they waived off the rent from March 15 to May 31. From June 1 to September 30, 50 per cent have been waived. 

Junaid has his heart in the right place. One day the Kashmiris approached him for help to get a train from Kochi to Kashmir. So, Junaid met the Collector S Suhas and Agriculture Minister Sunil Kumar. Sunil, a member of the Communist Party of India, is in charge of Ernakulam. 

Five days later, the Nodal Officer for Kashmir RS Shibu called Junaid from Thiruvananthapuram. A train was arranged on May 20. About 400 Kashmiris got in at Ernakulam and another 400 from Thiruvananthapuram. Around 16 students from Mangalore also boarded the train. The last stop was Udaipur. Thereafter, they took buses to reach Srinagar, 1400 km away. 

Junaid has another business of distribution of Fast Moving Consumer Goods. These include butter, ghee, flour, wheat, biscuits, jams, edible oils, and cornflakes. However, he has not been able to deliver outside the containment zones. Other distributors are in a similar predicament. “People will suffer,” says Junaid. 

Apart from the people the economy is suffering. Says Sunny L Malayil, the president of the Indian Chamber of Commerce and Industry: “There is a severe economic impact in Fort Kochi. We had a flourishing tourism-related industry. But now, there is a huge dip in income. At this moment, there are no foreigners or domestic travellers.” 

The Chamber estimates there has been a loss of income to the tune of Rs 100 crore in the past few months. He says that around 20 percent of the businesses will close down permanently. Those who were handling the Holy Land trips to Israel and Palestine have also suffered a blow to their business. 

However, he says that if the Kochi Muziris Biennale takes place in December, there might be a revival, of sorts. Sunny says that last year the Chamber had conducted a seminar to analyse the economic impact of the art festival on homestays, hotels, restaurants, and the transportation sector. 

In the previous Biennale, there were six lakh visitors. Out of that, around 60,000 were outsiders. Many of them stayed in premium rooms, of which there are 700 in Fort Kochi and Willingdon Island. The general sales tax for each premium room is Rs 2000 per day. “For the last Biennale, the state government invested Rs 7 crore, but the returns, through tax, was about Rs 200 crore,” says Sunny.

Everybody gained, including the handicrafts shops, homestays, restaurants, auto-rickshaw and taxi drivers. “But now, the opposite is happening,” he says. “It is a loss all around. Those who have taken loans and are paying interest, their debt is growing day by day. They will find it very difficult to manage.” 

The 2020 season is gone. “We are hoping by next year, there will be a semblance of normality,” he says. 

Eldose Baby, who is a staffer of the Kochi branch of International Trade Links Tours and Travels Pvt. Ltd., confirms that no domestic tourists have gone anywhere for the past few months. Earlier, they would send people to Europe, the USA, China and Russia. “There are no group departures,” he says. “But since I work for a multinational company, we were offering support to passengers who were returning from other countries in evacuation flights from Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates. The situation remains grim.” 

It’s the same for Sajhome Homestay owner Sadiq Saj. His last guest was Darren and his wife, from the UK, who left on March 18, just before the lockdown. And Darren left a sweet review on Trip Advisor: ‘We couldn't thank Saj and his family enough for looking after us during our stay, organising our trips for us and recommending places to eat and enjoy the sunset. Fantastic breakfast, clean rooms and great service.’ 

Sajhome has won the Trip Advisor Traveller’s Choice Award for seven consecutive years. 

When Sadiq closed down his homestay, he had 30 bookings. But once international travel was banned, the guests had no option but to cancel. 

Sadiq has been running his homestay for the past 12 years. There are five rooms on the first and second floor, while he stays on the ground floor with his wife and two daughters. It is located opposite the office of the Biennale. 

“I have zero customers,” says Sadiq, who had worked in the Hyatt Regency in Dubai for 13 years. His guests usually come from Britain, USA, Australia, Canada and many countries in Europe. 

He believes that things will change only when international flights are restarted all over the world. Thereafter, the World Health Organisation has to give the green signal. Then only will he think of opening his homestay. 

And so the town, which is heading for a curfew, because of a rise in coronavirus cases, is lying comatose. But the residents are hopeful that after the dark times, the dawn will come. 

(Published in Mathrubhumi (English edition)

Why are you afraid?

This poem won 'Honorable Mention' in the New Poets competition at Allpoetry.com

By Shevlin Sebastian

Why is the powerful Leader

So afraid of the creative people —

the poets, painters, and writers.

These guys have nothing

Except the tools of their arts.

Brushes, paints, easels and canvases,

Words, sentences, paragraphs.

So why is the Leader

Who has the Army, Navy and the Air Force

At his command,

Who has the intelligence bureau,

And the shadow police

Monitoring the population

24/7

Why is he so afraid of the

artists?

Why is he so scared of criticism and protests?

None of these artists or protests can dethrone the leader

So why?

The answer is simple.

The leader lies

All the time

When you lie

For some unknown reason, you feel afraid

Of the Truth

Because the utterance of

Truth

Can shatter the edifice of lies.

Hence, the severe response

To the truth-teller

The leader fears

that his rule can collapse.

And as history shows,

it does.

To build something enduring

Truth and love have always been the cement

While lies and hatred are the sand

Porous and weak.

So, dear leader

Tell the truth

And you will not be afraid

Of anybody

Always remember

What the Nobel Prize laureate

Alexander Solzhenitsyn said,

“One word of truth,

Can outweigh the whole world.”