The pernicious effects of war

By Shevlin Sebastian 

Leaders throughout history have always stressed the need for their countrymen to march to war, to defend the nation against the ‘enemy’, to uphold values and to preserve society. War is glorified and praised. Soldiers are honoured and cherished. But what is the experience of a soldier at war? 

Here is a longish extract from ‘Goodbye Darkness’, American historian William Manchester’s memoir of the Pacific War in World War 11, where he describes his killing of a Japanese soldier:

‘My first shot had missed him, embedding itself in the straw wall, but the second caught him dead-on in the femoral artery. 

‘A wave of blood gushed from the wound; then another boiled out, sheeting across his legs, pooling on the earthen floor. Mutely, he looked down at it. He dipped a hand in it and listlessly smeared his cheek red. His shoulders gave a little spasmodic jerk, as though someone had whacked him on the back; then he emitted a tremendous, raspy fart, slumped down, and died. I kept firing, wasting government property. 

‘Almost immediately, a fly landed on his left eyeball. Another joined it. I don’t know how long I stood there staring. I knew from previous combat what lay ahead for the corpse. It would swell, then bloat, bursting out of the uniform. Then the face would turn from yellow to red, to purple, to green, to black. 

‘A feeling of disgust and self-hatred clotted darkly in my throat, gagging me.  

‘Then I began to tremble and next, to shake all over. I sobbed, in a voice, still grainy with fear: “I’m sorry.” Then I threw up all over myself. I recognised the half-digested C-ration beans dribbling down my front, smelled the vomit above the cordite. At the same time, I noticed another odour; I had urinated in my skivvies. I pondered fleetingly why our excretions become so loathsome the instant they leave the body.’   

This extract has been reproduced in the book, ‘War is a force that gives us meaning’ by Chris Hedges, a foreign correspondent for 15 years with the New York Times. He covered conflicts in Central America, the Middle East, Africa and the Balkans.

His book can change your attitude toward war. It shows what really happens at ground level. Chris’s first-hand description of the war in Bosnia is unforgettable. The unbelievable cruelty and depravity that soldiers displayed was difficult to digest. 

Here is a quote by Chris: “Once we sign on for war’s crusade, once we see ourselves on the side of the angels, once we embrace a theological or ideological belief system that defines itself as the embodiment of goodness and light, it is only a matter of how we will carry out murder.”

One thing that became clear from reading this book is how powerful are the forces of evil that live quietly within each one of us. And when these forces awaken, they thrust you into the heart of darkness. 

The book, published in 2002, was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award for Non-Fiction. And is a must-read as the world heads for a possible nuclear apocalypse because of the Ukraine War. 

Here are some quotes from the book: 

Civil war, brutality, ideological intolerance, conspiracy and murderous repression are part of the human condition. 

Soldiers who kill innocent people pay a tremendous, personal, emotional, and spiritual price. 

The cost of killing is all the more bitter because of the deep disillusionment the war usually brings. 

Killing unleashes within us dark undercurrents that see us desecrate and whip ourselves into greater orgies of destruction. 

The ecstatic high of violence and the debilitating mental and physical destruction that comes with prolonged exposure to war’s addiction. 

We dismantle our moral universe to serve the cause of war. 

In the rise to power, we become smaller, power absorbs us, and once power is attained, we are often its pawns. 

Killing is a sordid affair. Those who are killed die messy, disturbing deaths that often plague the killers. And the bodies of the newly slain retain a disquieting power. 

The eyes of the dead are windows into a world we fear. 

Modern war is directed against civilians. 

Force easily snuffs out gentle people, the compassionate and the decent. 

States at war silence their authentic and humane culture. By destroying authentic culture — that which allows us to question and examine ourselves and our society — the state erodes its moral fibre. A warped sense of reality replaces it. 

Cliches, coined by the state, become the only acceptable vocabulary. Everyone knows what to say and how to respond. It is scripted. Vocabulary shrinks so that the tyranny of nationalistic rhetoric leaves people sputtering state-sanctioned slogans. 

The nationalist myth often implodes with startling ferocity. It does so after the lies and absurdities become too hard to sustain. They collapse under their own weight.

Contradictions and the refusal to acknowledge the obvious become too much for a society to bear. 

 Nationalist cant always end up sounding absurd.

The magical world of books

 Photos: The American Centre library in Calcutta; the National Library  

 By Shevlin Sebastian 

The other day, I received a few cartoons regarding the foreignness of physical books for children on WhatsApp. In one, it showed a boy sitting at a table, with a book in front of him. His mother tells him, “Just open and read it. You don’t need a password.” 

As I forwarded it to a family group, I realised I may be the only person in our family to read physical books and to go to libraries. 

I began visiting libraries in my teens and fell in love with them. On hot summer days, on my weekly holidays, I headed to the American library, first on SN Banerjee Road and later on Chowringhee in Calcutta.

The air-conditioning was superb. The library was so spacious, with carpeted floors and large glass windows. This calm environment helped keep away the manic energy of the streets, the heat, the dust and the pollution for a while. 

As for the books, what a treasure it was. 

American publishers designed their hardcover books so well that one could only stare at them with wonder. And then to be allowed to take four books home on a library card. Wow, what a treat. It was, to quote a title of one of American literary great John Cheever’s books: ‘Oh what a paradise it seems’. 

I was also an ardent fan of Pulitzer-Prize winner John Updike and would be awestruck at his productivity. Over 50 novels, short stories, art and literary reviews. His long-time publisher, Alfred A Knopf, produced some of the best designed books in world publishing. And still does. I may not be sure, but I think they used the Garamond typeface a lot. Which is a font that is pleasant to look at and soothing to read. Nowadays, whenever I write, I use Garamond at 14 points on Google Drive. 

Apart from the books, there were the magazines. I read ‘The New Yorker’, ‘Esquire’, ‘The Atlantic’, ‘Ebony’, ‘Time’, ‘Newsweek’, ‘Vanity Fair’, ‘People’, ‘National Geographic’, ‘Sports Illustrated’, and ‘The New York Times Magazine’. There were so many more, but these come to mind only. 

Some of the other libraries I visited included the British Council library on Shakespeare Sarani (another air-conditioned oasis), the Ramakrishna Mission library in Gol Park, and the National Library in Alipore. 

Undoubtedly, the most beautiful campus belonged to the National Library. It had spacious lawns and tree-lined avenues. You could sit on the lawns and enjoy the sunshine and the greenery with a couple of book lovers (of the fairer sex) during the depth of a Calcutta winter, which was usually in December and January. When it got too cold, we went off to the canteen to have hot cups of tea. And continue with the adda. 

Most people think that patrons of libraries are morose and dull. That they are all nerds. But under that placid exterior, some of them are daring, bold, and uninhibited. In a conservative era, before cell phones and the Internet, they did the unthinkable. Some were even more daring than the in-your-face shows-off in college. But nobody suspected it because they carried these books in their hands and had that studious look on their faces. 

Indeed, several fooled their parents, too. 

So, one parent would tell another, in front of their teenage daughter, “Oh, Moushumi is a quiet girl and very studious.” 

Moushumi would immediately smother the mischievous smile that was forming on her face and nod piously. 

Apart from these delightful encounters, books have given me immense pleasure over the decades. They have enabled me to interact with the minds of the greats of many professions, be it politics, literature, arts, spirituality, history, religion, film, sports, psychology, and philosophy. Even now, every night, I try to put in at least half an hour of book reading. 

In Kochi, where I live now, I am a regular visitor to the over 150-year-old Ernakulam Public Library. In terms of facilities, it’s no match compared to the libraries in Delhi and Calcutta. But they are doing a good job of getting the latest books. 

The last book I picked up a couple of weeks ago was ‘The Escape Artist’ by British journalist Jonathan Freedland. It tells the true story of how two Slovak Jews escaped from the Auschwitz concentration camp in Poland during the second world war. Their aim: they wanted to inform the world about the genocide taking place. It was a heart-breaker of a story.  

The other library in Kochi, which I am frequenting much less these days, is the EMS Cooperative Library in Kakkanad. It has a beautiful building with a park beside it. But the books are old and out-dated. The pages are yellowing. Rarely does the administration buy new books. And the park has fallen into disrepair because of a lack of maintenance. 

I also buy books online. Sure, Kindle is an easy alternative, but I never enjoyed electronic reading. Sometimes, when a prominent personality mentions a book that has influenced them, I check out that book. 

So when double Booker Prize winner Hilary Mantel passed away on September 22 at age 70, I began reading about her life and career. I came across a Guardian newspaper story which highlighted Hilary’s rules for writing, in point form. The second point said, “Read ‘Becoming a writer by Dorothea Brande”’. 

When I checked the book online, I noticed it was first published in 1934. That was a long time ago. What surprised and intrigued me was that it has remained in print since then. Since there were cheap editions, I ordered one on Amazon. 

I have read many books on writing, which focus on plot, character development, setting, theme, point of view and dialogue. But Dorothea’s book was the only one I have read so far which spoke about how a writer should work with the unconscious mind if he or she wants to produce memorable material.

No wonder Hilary recommended it. Because if you read her books, you realise how she has mined her unconscious mind. In the Wolf Hall trilogy, Thomas Cromwell, the Chief Minister of King Henry VIII came across as a living, throbbing human being. 

Another stalwart who uses the unconscious a lot is Japanese writer Haruki Murakami. Dorothea said that for literature, to be powerful, it has to emerge from the unconscious. Writing from the conscious mind lacks vitality and depth. I asked myself a question: could Leo Tolstoy have created the 500 characters in his magnum opus, ‘War and Peace’ using only his conscious mind? I felt that would be difficult. He would definitely need the unconscious for this. 

All this was nice to know. And also depressing. 

Because, how many people can access the unconscious? Sure, every night, the unconscious sends us numerous images in the form of dreams. But in the daylight, how many can access it? The unconscious remains remote and inaccessible. Only a handful of the gifted are able to enter easily. 

Wolfgang Mozart (1756-91), the Austrian piano prodigy, was one of them. The rest of us, including I, are plodding away, plucking small fruits from the lowest branches of the banyan tree of creation, not being given this sublime gift by the Gods.

Despite this lack, writing has provided solace. 

For many years, shyness and an introverted nature had crippled me. I remained tongue-tied in public and in private too, especially in front of relatives and strangers. Through all those years, I kept reading. So, thousands of sentences kept ricocheting through my brain, with no outlet at all. Finally, one day, I got a job in journalism and began dealing with sentences. The sentences from my head rushed out, and I used the tip of my fingers to lead them on to a page during the typewriter era and later onto computer screens. I fell in love with writing. And I found my voice. 

And I have to thank my parents. They let me be. They gave me space. They didn’t put pressure on me to change. Maybe, they instinctively realised each person has to listen to their drumbeat. For some, the beat is loud and crystal-clear very early in life. For others, the drum beats take a long time to start. 

To each his own. 

And my parents gave me the same love during my inarticulate and articulate phases. At the celebrity level, Robert Federer, father of one of the greatest tennis players of all time, said, “Roger is for us, Roggie. Our son and that is what he will stay, and that is what he is.”

Ideally, parents should avoid intervening and trying to speed up the developmental process in their child. It only results in havoc in the child’s mind. As a result, the journey towards finding one’s destiny becomes messy and agonising. And sometimes, it ends in failure. 

(Published in The Story Cabinet)

Atlas Ramachandran is no more. A look at his life and career

Renowned businessman and film producer Atlas Ramachandran died on October 2 at Dubai at the age of 80, following a heart attack. A high-flying entrepreneur his jewellery business came crashing down, when he was arrested in 2015 for non-payment of loans he had taken from banks to the tune of Rs 1000 crore.

He was sentenced to jail for three years. Thanks to friends who helped to meet his dues, Ramachandran was released two-and-a-half years later. When Dubai-based lawyer Arun Abraham visited him in hospital just before he passed away, he was optimistic about re-starting his business.

The following piece was published in 2012 when he had just opened an outlet in Kochi.

Trusted by millions

Dr M M Ramachandran, the founder-chairman of the Atlas Jewellery Group, talks about his memories of Mahatma Gandhi and other luminaries. He also speaks about his life as an entrepreneur, film producer, distributor, exhibitor, actor, and philanthropist

By Shevlin Sebastian

On the morning of January 31, 1948, Dr M M Ramachandran, the founder-chairman of the Atlas Jewellery Group, remembers his uncle Dr. Sethu Madhavan come running to the family tharavad in Thrissur, tears streaming down his face. “Bapuji (Mahatma Gandhi) has expired,” he said. And the entire family, comprising Ramachandran’s parents, uncles and aunts, cousins and relatives, burst into tears. Ramachandran was only six years old. “Our house is close to the railway line. On the trains, people were shouting and crying.” They had heard from passengers coming from the north that somebody had assassinated Bapuji the previous evening.

“No Indian should forget the ‘Father of the Nation,’” says Ramachandran. “As a child, my parents taught us about the ideals of Gandhi and read excerpts from his monumental work, ‘My Experiments with Truth.’ He was an idol for me.”

He also has memories of the late Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru. “The Prime Minister came to Thrissur a few times and gave speeches at the Thekkinkad Maidan. I would sit in the front row. Security was casual in those days. He spoke in English and was a gripping orator,” he says.

Ramachandran is also a fan of Nehru’s daughter, the late Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. “Her biggest achievement was the liberation of East Pakistan (Bangladesh) from West Pakistan in 1971,” says Ramachandran. Of course, Indira’s biggest mistake was the imposition of the Emergency on June 26, 1975. “That was when freedom was suppressed,” says Ramachandran. “I have lived through an eventful period of our history.”

Ramachandran, himself, has had an eventful life. He grew up in Thrissur, as the son of a poet, V Kamalakara Menon. Ramachandran’s grandfather was a contractor in Cochin State and was the first to introduce cement in construction work.

“He knew all the difficulties of doing business, and wanted my father to have a government job,” he says. His father got a state government job and worked for several years. Meanwhile, Ramachandran passed his B. Com from Sree Kerala Varma College. But jobs were scarce in Kerala. Unemployment was rampant. “My elder brother had a minor job in Delhi,” he says. “So, I went there in search of one.”

In the capital, Ramachandran saw ‘No Vacancy’ signs everywhere. Then the Canara Bank opened its first branch in Delhi, and they took Ramachandran in as an apprentice with a small stipend.

“In six months, they made me a clerk,” he says. And within two years, he became an assistant accountant because he had passed the Certified Associate examination of the Indian Institute of Bankers with distinction. But Ramachandran continued to sit for bank exams and got selected as a probationary officer by the State Bank of India and was posted to the State Bank of Travancore in Kerala in 1966.

“Thereafter, I worked all over the state,” he says. “Instead of going as a tourist, I went at the bank’s expense.” He worked for seven years with SBT.

In 1973, the economy was in free-fall. The petrol price jumped from 3.5 dollars per barrel to 10.6 dollars. “I had an official jeep, and my car,” he says. “Despite that, I used to travel by bus. By the 20th of the month, I would exhaust my salary. I would request my father to send me some money.” Ramachandran felt he needed another job.

He saw an advertisement in a newspaper by the Commercial Bank of Kuwait for a walk-in interview at the Connemara Hotel in Chennai. He went to Chennai by train. There were 2,000 people in front of the hotel gates, which were closed. “Somehow, I entered and became one of 200 persons who wrote the test.”

Thereafter, Ramachandran was one among five who were called for the interview. The interviewer asked, “Where is your passport, Mr Ramachandran?” It was then that he realised that there was something called a passport. “I began perspiring,” he says. “They told me not to worry. You are selected.” Thereafter, Ramachandran applied for a passport and departed for Kuwait in March 1974.

They sent him for six months of training to Athens and two months to Philadelphia. He took over as the credit manager for domestic branches and later as international division manager. In addition, the bank asked him to train other managers. And for this second job, Ramachandran received an additional salary. “In those days, I was the highest-paid Indian,” he says.

One day when Ramachandran was returning from the bank, he saw a sizeable crowd in front of some Indian jewellery shops. “I was young and curious,” he says. “I stopped the car and asked the reason for this. They said, ‘Don’t you know that the gold price has fallen? We are all queuing up to buy it.’ I was taken aback. There was such an enormous demand for gold. An urge arose in me to do some business rather than be an employee.”

In the bank, Ramachandran was handling the New York and London branches. “I had to recommend loans. The smallest of the loans was 5 million dollars. I was running a tremendous risk. If something went wrong, the management would hold me responsible. I thought that if I start a small business, even it is small, I could be my boss.”

But he had little savings. So, Ramachandran went to the chief general manager of the bank, H J Kwant, a Dutchman, and secured a loan of 20,000 dinars. This sufficed to pay the money for a shop in the brand-new Souk Al Watiya in Kuwait. “No Indian dared to take a shop in such a posh place,” he says. “I had money left over to buy only 2 kilos of ornaments but did not know the business. The only way to learn was from a goldsmith.”

Luckily, he befriended a Madhavan from Pallam, Kottayam. “He was not prepared to tell me the secrets,” says Ramachandran. “I told him I am a bank manager and he would lose nothing by passing me his knowledge. So, he told me the details.”

Ramachandran’s jewellery outfit was a success from the very beginning, thanks to a stroke of luck. His shop was next to the only church in Kuwait: Our Lady of Arabia.

“The Indian maids were in plenty, especially from Goa,” he says. “They told me, ‘Jesus will bless you! It is good you have opened your shop nearby. Now we can come to church, buy the gold, and have a lot of time left for chitchat. Otherwise, all the time will be wasted to go downtown. We will bring all our friends.’”

And they kept their promise. And all they wanted was a sovereign chain and a cross. “I made my money on these sales,” he says.

Today, Atlas Jewellery operates in seven countries: Qatar, Bahrain, Oman, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, India, and the United Arab Emirates. In the UAE, there are 24 shops, and the maximum sales are in Dubai.

“Our customers are mostly Malayalis,” he says. When asked for the reasons behind his success, he says, “Give them the best. They will come back to you. My products are authentic.”

What is 22 carat? It is 22 divided by 24 = 916.666. If pure gold in the ornament is 916, and the rest is alloys, it is called 22 carat. “Instead of 916, we keep 920 as our base,” he says. “In all the tests conducted by the government, it should pass. When conventional soldering is done, other elements might get added, as opposed to the cadmium soldering technology used by Atlas Jewellery.”

He says that the Malayalis in Dubai, before they leave for their annual vacation to Kerala, would buy jewellery from several shops. Back at home, they get it tested. “I am very happy to say that when they return to Dubai, they say, ‘Sir, only yours was 22 carats. We will bring all our friends and relatives to you.’ So, I made my name by word of mouth.”

Ramachandran also instinctively understood the power of advertisements. “Those days dealers would tell me that gold should never be advertised,” he says. “People should come and ask for it. I said, no, like any other product we have to advertise. I was the first to cooperate with the World Gold Council to advertise gold.”

He was also the first to distinguish between 22 and 24 carat gold. “I would have arguments with the dealers,” he says. “I would tell them, ‘Ornaments are only 22 carat, so why are you charging 24 carat?’ When I started Atlas in 1981, I gave separate prices for 22 and 24 carat gold.”

Incidentally, the word ‘Atlas’ came up by accident. When he went to get a licence from the Ministry of Commerce in Kuwait, he suggested many Malayali, Indian, and English names. The official said, “Myseer (which means ‘impossible’ in Arabic). This is an Arab country. Give me Arab names.” So, Ramachandran asked the official to give a name. The man said, “Khud Ya Atlas (Take the name Atlas).”

In Dubai, Ramachandran was much respected, because of his contribution to the annual Shopping Festival. In 1996, the government of Dubai - under the directive of HH Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, UAE Vice-President and ruler of Dubai - invited four people from the gold industry and asked for suggestions. 

Ramachandran, who later became the chairperson of the Festival Gold Promotion Committee, came up with the idea to give away one kg of gold on a raffle basis every day. “It was a runaway success,” says Ramachandran. “This concept attracted a lot of tourists during the festival and I secured an illustrious name in the government.” In the inaugural festival, 43 kgs of gold were given away.

Thereafter, over the years, Atlas has diversified into real estate, advertising, photography studios and healthcare. In 2010, the company opened a multi-speciality hospital in Ruwi, Oman. In 2010, Ramachandran was ranked 35 on the list of the 100 ‘Most Powerful Indians in the Gulf Co-operation Council countries.’

And, finally, on August 25, 2012, Atlas finally arrived in Kerala with a showroom at Edapally, Kochi. Asked why it took so long to come to Kerala, Ramachandran said, “The Bureau of Indian Standards (BIS) was only set up recently,” he says. “People were selling 18 carat gold marked as 22.”

Ramachandran made a television programme called ‘Swarna Nirangal’ (The Colours of Gold), in which the anchor shows an advertisement which states, ‘I will give you 916 gold.’ Then the anchor asks, “If this is a 100-year-old company, which claims to be giving 916 now, what were they giving earlier?”

Ramachandran was excited by the response to the Kochi enterprise. But despite this he is worried about the economic future of Kerala. “Where is the agricultural and manufacturing activity? Montek Singh Ahluwalia (deputy chairman of the Planning Commission) said that if Kerala does not cultivate rice, the heavens will not fall. I don’t agree. We must have agriculture. It is our culture and we must not forget that.”

Another worry is the rise of religious fanaticism all over the world. “Religion appears to play a very important part in the life of people and nations,” he says. “It is meant for the well-being of people. But people think that the way to salvation is through one particular religion. It has led to a lot of destruction.”

The opposite of destruction is creativity. Few people know Ramachandran is a creative person. In 1988, Ramachandran set up Chandrakanth Films for production and distribution. The first film, ‘Vaishali,’ became a box-office hit running for 111 days and is now regarded as a classic. Later, he produced ‘Dhanam’ and ‘Sukrutham,’ and directed ‘Holidays.’ He has also acted in ‘2 Harihar Nagar,’ ‘Arabikatha’ and ‘Anandabhairavi.’

Apart from that, he is also providing scholarships for deserving students in Kerala and the Gulf countries and makes regular donations for traditional arts and culture in Kerala. In fact, he has done a doctoral thesis on traditional arts and culture. “In my spare time, I am trying to promote akshara shlokam,” says Ramachandran, who is also a director of the India Vision television channel.

All in all, Ramachandran has lived like up to his company name: an Atlas who has lifted the globe, on his shoulders, and in his own individual style.

(Published in Express Ensembles, September 23, 2012)

Staying the course

Venu Kunnappilly made his debut as a producer with the hit, ‘Mamangam’, in 2019. He talks about his experiences in Mollywood

Photos: Mohanlal and Mammootty with Venu Kunnappilly and his family

By Shevlin Sebastian

From childhood Venu Kunnappilly loved watching movies. It remained his primary pastime during college and in his life in Dubai. One day, a thought arose in his mind: how can I enter Mollywood? Venu pondered over the options. He could be an actor, director, cinematographer, singer or scriptwriter. But he felt he did not have the talent for any of them. So, Venu felt the only way was to be a producer.

Through a friend in the industry, he sent out feelers he wanted to produce a film.

Vivek Ramadevan, one of Mollywood’s leading entertainment and marketing consultants, met Venu. He narrated the story of ‘Mamangam’ for over two hours.

Every 12 years, in the 18th century, the Mamangam festival would take place on the banks of the Nila river in the town of Thirunavaya in north Kerala. The Zamorin, the Hindu chiefs of Kozhikode, conducted the festival. Several years ago, they seized ownership of the festival from Valluvakkonathiri, who were the rulers of an independent kingdom in central Kerala.

Every year, the Valluvakkonathiri sent their best warriors to confront and kill the Zamorin, who would always appear at the festival with his family members.

Venu liked the script because he had always liked to watch historical themes on film. In his childhood, he liked ‘Unniyarcha’ (1961). This was based on Unniyarcha, a legendary warrior. She had been mentioned in ‘Vadakkan Pattukal’, a set of ballads.

Another film he enjoyed watching was ‘Kayamkulam Kochunni’ (1966). Kochunni was an outlaw who stole from the rich and gave to the poor in present-day Travancore.

To get confirmation from Mammootty, Venu met him for the first time in a suite at the Grand Hyatt in Dubai in 2017. He was taken aback by the superstar’s genuine respect shown to him. Mammootty inquired whether Venu wanted to drink or eat something. Then he asked about Venu’s family and all other aspects of his life. “Mammootty was a straight-forward, and down-to-earth person,” said Venu.

The aspiring producer was keen for Mammootty to take the lead role. Because he knew the actor excelled in historical roles. He had admired Mammootty’s performance in ‘Pazhassi Raja’ (2009).

Mammootty had played Pazhassi (1753–1805), who was the de facto head of the kingdom of Kottayam, otherwise known as Cotiote, in Malabar.

Pazhassi fought against the exploitation of farmers, through steep taxation, by the British East India Company. There were constant battles between Pazhassi and his men against the British.

Eventually, the British killed Pazhassi, aged 52, on November 30, 1805, in a gun-fight at Mavila Thodu, on the border of present-day Kerala and Karnataka.

Mammootty confirmed again. So, Venu became a producer.

When the film came out, ‘Mamangam’ became a box office hit. It grossed Rs 100 crore at the box office.

Venu learnt some important lessons after his first film. “If you have a good relationship with a person, it might break down when you are working together on a film,” said Venu. “So, it is imperative to have clear-cut legal agreements with all the crew members.”

To avoid a financial loss, the producer must ensure he has lucrative deals with OTT platforms and buyers for satellite rights. “So, when the film hits the theatres, you have already recovered your costs,” said Venu. If the film becomes a hit, then all the theatre income is a profit for the producer.

Following ‘Mamangam’, Venu has ploughed ahead. He produced ‘Night Drive’, and ‘Drishyam-2’ in Kannada. ‘Eesho’ is coming out next month. Directed by Nadir Shah, it features Jayasurya and Namitha Pramod in the lead roles. The shoot of the film, ‘2018’, budgeted at Rs 25 crore, is in progress. It stars Kunchacko Boban, Tovino Thomas, Asif Ali, and Vineeth Sreenivasan. The shoot of two other films, ‘Chaver’ and ‘Malikappuram’ is also taking place now.

Venu also released a Hollywood film called ‘After Midnight’ on February 11, 2021. Jeremy Gardner and Christian Stella play the main roles. The meta score on imdb.com is 55 out of 100.

Reflections about Mammootty and Mohanlal

In April, 2019, Mammootty was shooting for ‘Mamangam’ during the month of Ramzan. He was fasting the entire day. A battle scene was being filmed on an 18-acre land, behind Lakeshore Hospital in Kundanoor, Kochi.

“After a whole day’s shoot, with no food, Mammootty had to continue shooting till 2 a.m.,” said Venu. “But he never complained at all. He was tireless on the set.”

In the film, Mammootty had to don the role of a woman. The actor was chatting with Venu and cracked a few jokes. Then the director said, “Action.” Right in front of Venu’s eyes, he saw Mammootty transforming himself into a woman. “It was amazing how effortlessly he slipped into the role,” said Venu.

The producer realised it was the passion for acting that drove Mammootty. “Whatever role he takes on, he plays it with the utmost dedication,” said Venu. Immense wealth and stardom have not satiated Mammootty’s burning drive to excel. “The youngsters of today make two or three films a year. The rest of the time they are enjoying themselves and going for vacations,” said Venu. “Mammootty’s primary focus and enjoyment is acting.”

Venu met Mohanlal three years ago. The actor expressed an interest in buying an apartment in ‘The Identity Twin Towers’ that Venu was building right next to the Crowne Plaza hotel in Kochi. Mohanlal bought two apartments on the 15th and 16th floor. This was converted into a duplex, with interior staircases, and has a floor area of 9500 sq. ft.

As for Venu, he stays on the 11th floor. The view from the veranda is breath-taking. Except for the Le Meridien hotel, which is on the opposite side, the vista is one of green vegetation, rivers and the wide arc of the sky above. A sharp breeze blows all the time.

“Mohanlal is able to get along with all sorts of people,” said Venu. “He has no airs at all. When he is talking to you, he is so down-to-earth that sometimes you forget that he is a superstar. He always asks about others life and what is happening in it.”

Both Mohanlal and Mammootty have an immense positive energy about them. “It could be because they are both doing work for which they have a great passion,” said Venu.

On how they have endured as stars for over 30 years, Venu said. “Both arrived at the right time and at the right place. They have played so many roles which have been ingrained in the Malayali psyche. We will always look at them with awe and reverence. But they have also maintained their image.”

Early life and career

Venu was born in Ayyampilly on the Vypeen islands. His father cultivated prawns and did pokkali farming (pokkali is a saline tolerant rice that is grown in the coastal regions). Venu did his early schooling in the Rama Varma Union High School in Cherai.

The school is over one hundred years old. The large building has a tiled roof, and British-style columns along the veranda of the ground floor. There is a sandy courtyard in front. Today, it has over 800 students on its rolls.

After completing his Class 10, Venu did his pre-degree at the Sree Narayana Mangalam College, Maliankara. In 1986, he joined the Noorul Islam Polytechnic College in Tamil Nadu to do a three-year diploma course in automobile engineering. Venu had a desire to become a vehicle inspector in the state motor vehicles department. That would assure him of a steady salary.

But after graduating with high marks, he got a job as a trainee in the Royal Enfield company. It makes the iconic Bullet motorcycles at their factory near Madurai. But he worked there for only four months before he got a chance to go to Saudi Arabia.

On May 17, 1990, he joined as the head of the automobile division at the Al Omarani company. The agency did the maintenance for all government vehicles. But Venu soon discovered that his lack of experience was creating a problem.

Venu had worked with the Tata, Ambassador Ashok Leyland and Maruti cars. But in Saudi Arabia, he was working with Mercedes Benz, BMW, the Range Rover and Jaguars. Venu was seeing their engines for the first time.

The workers, Malayalis, North Indians, Bengalis, Filipinos and Pakistanis, came to him asking for solutions. He found he did not have the necessary knowledge to help them.

But somehow, he learned quickly and worked in the company for three years. In the last year, the company became bankrupt. They paid no salary. Venu found it difficult to eat. Reluctant to come back, Venu did odd jobs here and there.

He worked in a vineyard at the hill station of Abha, which is 7200 ft. above sea level. The weather is mild throughout the year. People had to wear sweaters all the time. There is no air-conditioning but heaters are everywhere. There are kilometres and kilometres of vineyards.

Venu had to walk a few kilometres every day to reach these farms, which were in remote areas. He earned 20 riyals a day. “It was a difficult time,” he said. “Sometimes, we encountered snakes in the fields. We had to be careful.”

Unfortunately, even though the labour rate was agreed upon beforehand, at the end of the day, the supervisors would say the work was not perfect. They would give the workers only five riyals. “It was exploitation,” said Venu. “I would feel upset, but there was little I could do, since I was living in a foreign country.”

In August, 1993, Venu moved to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. He worked as a sales executive in a company which dealt in spare parts for the Range Rover. During this time, he learned everything about the business.

Finally, in 2000, Venu took the plunge. He opened a wholesale shop dealing in automobile spare parts in the Deira market. A lot of Africans would come there. Venu would import from India and China and export to several countries in Africa. The business did well from the beginning.

In 2001, he started a packing company with his roommates, with whom he stayed before his marriage in 1997. The company specialises in blister packing. This is a pre-formed packaging, made of plastic, used for consumer goods, foods, and medicines. This has become a large company. He also opened a spare parts shop in the Congo called Auto King. In 2004, he opened a factory making lubricant oil in Ajman.

Venu has made many visits to South Africa, Mozambique, Zambia, Malawi, Somalia, Djibouti, Tanzania, Kenya, Angola, Togo, Benin Republic, Niger, Burkina Faso, Guinea Bissau, Ghana, Mali and other countries.

Venu said the Africans differed from place to place. The people who lived under Portuguese rule, in countries like Angola, Congo, Guinea-Bissau and Mozambique, had suffered from centuries of slavery. So, they had low self-esteem and were deferential.

The people who lived under French rule, like in Togo, Burkina Faso, Ivory Coast, and Mali, were tough and bargained hard when they did business. But the smartest people were those who grew up under British rule in countries like South Africa, Zambia and Ghana.

“They had self-confidence because of the excellent education they received,” said Venu.

But across all countries, one common trait was that the Africans did not trust outsiders. That has been the impact of hundreds of years of slavery. They have a fear that they will be cheated and exploited. “Now, the Chinese are exploiting them,” said Venu. “Poverty is still widespread. Many people only get two meals a day.”

Venu continues his business in Dubai, building construction in Kerala and a shop in the UK. He also has a film production company in Los Angeles and a Greentech company in Sweden.

Venu as writer

In November, 2021, Venu published a collection of 15 short stories called ‘Victoria 18’. This was released at the Sharjah Book Fair last year. Venu wrote the stories in an autobiographical style, but it is all fiction.

Finally, when asked about his advice to young Malayalis, he said, “Please remember, life is very short. No other species has the freedom that we have. We can live and work anywhere. There are so many opportunities. Youngsters should go in search of them. They should avoid spending their time in negative thought processes and harassing people. You should have a dream. And follow it. You have only one life and it goes fast. Always remember that.”

(Published in Unique Times) 

An ode to swimming

By Shevlin Sebastian 

Photo: At the Raviz Hotel in Kollam, Kerala

Heavy rains hit Kochi in the last week of August. There was lightning, cloudbursts, and furious winds. This resulted in flooding in the low-lying areas. The non-performance of the public works department and the Cochin Corporation ensured it happens every year. 

There was an unspeakable dread about what damage this incessant rainfall was going to do. We Malayalis have remained shell-shocked following the disastrous flooding all over Kerala in 2018. It wrecked the lives of so many families. The floods destroyed thousands of houses, apart from roads and bridges.

So, I felt an intense relief when I woke up on a Saturday morning, stepped into the verandah, and saw a cerulean blue sky. Not a single cloud around. The sun was up and about. The leaves in the trees shone with a rare intensity. Thanks to the rains, all the dust had been wiped away. They were all ready to glow. 

And glow they did. 

I decided to go for a swim. 

At the pool, I encountered two blues. The chlorine blue of the water and the open sky above. As I set out, in freestyle mode, I admired the beauty of various designs, as the slanting Eastern sun hit the water. In the refracted light, I saw triangles, circles, quadrilaterals, squares, white stars and maps of countries. I blinked and thought, ‘Did I see that?’ 

I was not sure. 

When I turned my head to the left, to breathe, sunlight hit my iris. It felt like a massive ball of light. ‘This is what religions say, “I am the light,”’ I thought.

Is this like the light I am going to see at the moment of my death? So many people, who had medically died and returned to life had recounted seeing such a light in Raymond Moody’s classic book on near-death experiences called ‘Life After Life’?’ 

I blinked and turned my head to the other side. 

As I increased my speed, I could feel all the stale air being expelled from my lungs. Fresh air rushed in to fill the vacuum. 

It made me heady. 

Oh, the beauty of swimming. Every part of your body is in action. Since we are moving through water, there is no fear of a knee injury, a back sprain, or a torn hamstring. 

It did not take long before a sense of peace and relaxation pervaded me. I remembered reading somewhere that when water sloshes in the ears, it is like the sloshing sound you hear when you lie in water inside the womb. That’s why you feel peaceful in the pool. 

Is this true? 

I am not sure. Not all babies have a peaceful experience in the womb. Some mothers go through stressful times, for various reasons, during the nine months of their pregnancy. So, for that baby, the sloshing sound does not indicate peace and happiness. Rather, it reveals anxiety and fear. 

After several laps, I get up, climb out and stand on the deck, with my back to the sun. I am looking for vitamin D. Apparently, it is healthy for the spine and solves back pain. Again, is this true? Who knows? So many theories. How many of them are true? Nobody knows. And yet there are people who believe so deeply in ideological theories, they end up becoming fanatics. They experience no qualms or pricks of conscience as they shed the blood of ‘The Other’. 

I dive back into the pool and increase the speed as I reach the last laps. 

I can sense endorphins are being released into my bloodstream. 

The human body is such a wonderful instrument. So few of us look after it. We gorge on food, most of it unhealthy, we never exercise, and we put intense stress on it. We put on too much weight. And our tiny knees must bear this enormous load. Is it any surprise that the knees and the body break down as you age? 

I take a breather by doing a backstroke. Now I can see the entire arc of the sky above me. I have seen so many moods of the sky over so many years when I lie on my back. A jet black sky, with masses of clouds; a grey sky; a sky with silver streaks; and a blue sky with puffs of scudding clouds, which look like elongated pieces of cotton. 

Sometimes, I see a flight of birds moving forward in a triangular formation, their beating wings all synchronised. I have also seen commercial planes, Air Force jets, with their pointed tips, and the grey helicopters of the Indian Navy. 

I look at the sky and wonder where all the dead souls are? I know they are all up there. My dad, uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, former colleagues and… a former girlfriend who died in her late twenties. So many have moved on to the next dimension of reality. 

I stop at the shallow end and look at the coconut and other trees framing the pool. Sometimes, under a fierce wind, the leaves will fly away and land, with a sea-saw motion, on the surface of the pool. Then the veteran lifeguard will scoop it out using a butterfly net attached to a long pole. 

I love it when it rains hard. The pinpricks that hit my back… it feels as if you had a massage. 

So, finally, this session is over. As I climb up the steps, holding the rod with both my hands, I can sense dopamine surging through my brain. I feel happy, optimistic and positive.  

My body is singing along with my soul. 

I look forward to whatever the day has to offer. 

I know this day will never come again. 

I offer my silent thanks to the Universal Spirit for this wonderful, though temporary, life.

An encounter in New York -- Flash Fiction

By Shevlin Sebastian

A woman is walking at a quick pace down a New York street. Because of the clouds, there is a greyish tone to the day. She is a slim woman with close-cropped hair, which reaches the collar. Alice Baker is pale-skinned, but she has put red lipstick on her lips. The colour stands out when you look at her face. She also has striking eyes — a thick grey with a black dot in the middle. Her eyelashes stick out as if she is astonished.

Alice wears flat, black leather sandals. On her left wrist, she wears a thin, gold watch. The dial is made of gold, including the hour and minute hands.

A black man ambles up. He is 6’2” tall. Unlike the woman, he is heavy-built, with a paunch that falls over his stomach. It rolls about like a wave. He has grey stubble. Not thick, but hairs sprinkled across the chin. There is a smell of rye on his breath. He has consumed several glasses of liquor.

Ben Whitaker is a former Army soldier who had done three stints in Vietnam. He shot dead many Vietnamese. Because he was often near bomb blasts, he has damaged his hearing.

After seeing so much violence, Ben returned to America, a troubled man. His marriage broke up. He fought with friends and relatives. Ben could never hold a proper job. He always ended up fighting with his supervisors. So far, he has avoided run-ins with the police. He survives on his Army pension.

His apartment is ill kept. His shorts, underwear and socks lay strewn about on the floor and the sofa. There are empty beer cans and whisky bottles on the floor, as well as cigarette ash. Half-eaten food packets lay on the dining table. The odour is a mix of perspiration and stale food.

As the black man sees the white woman, Ben thinks of privilege, white wealth and a smooth life. He thinks the world is unfair. Too many black people fought in Vietnam. She is too young to know about the sacrifices of the blacks in Vietnam. She has a happy-go-lucky life.

Alice might not agree. She has broken up with her boyfriend of three years. And she is feeling low. Her parents had divorced when she was a child. She grew up with her mother Deborah. She rarely saw her father, Robert. He was a wealthy architect and had married again. But to his credit, Robert made the alimony payment on time for years together. He married again and had two children.

Deborah never married again because Robert was the love of her life. So, she had a look of permanent sorrow on her face. Down turned lips and downcast eyes. She lost the incentive to look good. Her blond hair no longer has a lustre. Deborah wore loose-fitting shirts and trousers. She sat at home the whole day. Alice was glad when she left home and joined college. That was when some oxygen entered her lungs for the first time.

But Ben did not know this.

As she came abreast, a lot of blood flashed inside his brain, face, and heart. The veins in his forehead pounded a ferocious drumbeat.

Ben took out a gun and knocked Alice’s face out.

Ben carried on walking.

The 24-year-old lay on the ground, still and lifeless.

Onlookers came rushing up.

One called 911.

There were many surveillance cameras on this street. It would be a matter of time before the police arrested Ben.

But he has no plans to escape.

As he continued walking, the 64-year-old pressed the steel barrel to his forehead.

He took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

As he rushed toward death, all he heard were the screams of onlookers....

Lessons from Laal Singh Chaddha!

Laal Singh Chaddha is a beautiful movie. 

There are several history lessons in it. 

Riots are shown at ground level. You watch, with horror, the use of a tyre as a burning necklace to kill people. You experience the fear and the terror of ordinary citizens.

It showed the venality of politicians.

Throughout the 75 years of our history, they have ignited riot after riot in pursuit of vote banks. Our leaders have pursued division among the people with a zeal bordering on the maniacal. 

You see the beauty and charm of the guileless Laal. 

Laal Singh reminds us how quickly we lose our childhood innocence. We turn into rough, hard-hearted and cynical people.

It shows the power of a mother’s love. And how she can transform the life of a disabled son. A study of human history has shown that most of the great achievers enjoyed the unrelenting love of their mothers. 

It shows the power of patience. Laal Singh waited and waited before he finally won over his lady love, Rupa. 

The movie reminds us that death is always a part of life. 

The film reveals the humanity of people. It is easy to hate when people are abstract concepts, like ‘He is a Muslim’. But they are as human as you are. 

Laal Singh tells us that God is within us. Which is why we don’t need religion. 

It showed the immense contributions of Punjabis to the Indian Army over several generations. 

When Laal Singh runs through the length and breadth of the country, you realise how beautiful this nation is. Every state feels like an independent country, with its own culture, food habits, and mores. 

Once, Rupa asked him about his experiences in Kargil. Laal Singh focused on how beautiful the Himalayas looked at night. It was an invaluable lesson: to look at the beauty instead of the darkness. We always look at the negative. 

It was a film which reminded us of the beautiful concept of unity in diversity, now under ferocious attack. 

Laal Singh showed how sworn enemies can become lifelong friends. 

Although we don’t see it, the production team took an immense effort in the film's making. 

As a sign of the polarised times we live in, the disclaimer at the beginning, in English and Hindi, was about 25 lines long. There was a commentary accompanying it. 

During earlier, calmer times, the disclaimer was one line long. 

As a newspaper article mentioned, Aamir Khan is one of the greatest story-tellers of his generation. We should cherish and support him and not abuse him because he is a Muslim. 

Don’t miss Laal Singh Chaddha!