Will you believe this story? The best soul nourishing 71st Independence day gift I got.
"Kada, adakkyar-ayilley? Enda mazhaya inn."
"Onathinn naati ponniley?"
"Potta?"
Three simple questions in Malayalam.
Without context they mean nothing much and can at best be courteous pleasantries between two people.
But there's more to this given the context in which I heard those three questions.
I believe that religions should not have any more status in our lives than the bus tickets we buy.
The moment we allow them to define our identity, they separate us from others and create most of the problems in the world that we see today in addition to what history has been a witness to.
I guess the best commentary on this subject is to be found in this song from the 1972 Malayalam movie 'Achhanum Baapayum' which says:
"Man created religions
Religions created Gods
And then, man, religions and gods divided this earth and divided the hearts as well.
We became, Hindus, Musalmans and Christians, we cannot be recognised any more now; the world has become a mental asylum..."
For non Malayalees, my translation will not touch any heart strings. But for Malayalees who grew up listening to this song composed by Shri Devarajan, it is truly beautiful.
This film went on to win the 1973 Nargis Dutt National award for the best movie on national integration, best lyricist award for the genius of the Malayalam film industry - the late Shri Vayalar Rama Varma and the best male playback singer for the song above went to Shri KJ Yeshudas.
Briefly, it is a film about a hindu man who adopts a muslim girl but allows her to follow muslim traditions.
And I guess I found the next best song on the subject of religions and man made gods from the 1958 Hindi film 'Phir Subah Hogi' when I watched it being played in the movie PK in 2015.
Be that as it may, for the moment let me revert to an amazing scene I witnessed today just over 4 hours ago around 7.15 pm at the Green Bakery restaurant in the famous Chala market opposite the East Fort in Trivandrum city.
I was waiting for my dinner to arrive when I saw three women dressed in the muslim hijab approach the cash counter.
The senior most among them - a lady clearly over 60 years old and a middle aged one had not covered their faces while the youngest of them was totally covered with a niqab as well as black gloves with just her eyes visible.
While the middle aged one was talking to someone on the phone and the youngest one was rummaging through her purse to pay the bill, the oldest one asked the cashier who didn't look like a muslim - "Aren't you going to close? It's raining so heavily today."
When he smilingly nodded a No, she then asked him - "Aren't you going home for Onam?"
Once again he smilingly nodded a No even as the youngest one handed over the cash.
And then finally the old lady asked - "Potta?" meaning, "Shall I take your leave?"
Usually, the third question is exchanged between people who know each other well.
And even though her second question had set me more than curious, the third question was the tipping point for me given the conservative society that Kerala still is and that too given the increasingly polarising religious divides over the last couple of decades.
The middle aged one had by now finished her call and she smilingly and quietly pressed a 5 rupee tip into the palm of the waiter in a red t-shirt.
And the three ladies went down the stairs.
The waiter in the red t-shirt came and put the tip in something at the cash counter.
After I finished my dinner, I took the bill and went to the counter and asked the cashier his name, where was he from as I had noticed a few other customers speaking to him in Tamizh language.
He said he was from Tirunelveli district in Tamizh Nad.
I asked if the three ladies in hijab were regular customers at this vegetarian restaurant?
As before with the old lady, he just smilingly nodded.
And then I told him about my observation of the entire scene that had unfolded before me and how it was heartening to note a muslim lady enquire the way she did with a hindu man at the cash counter of a vegetarian restaurant.
Once again he just smilingly nodded.
I realised that Mr. Nataraj from Tirunelveli was, unlike me; a man of few words.
I paid my bill, turned around and said that I am a writer and I am going to write about what I just witnessed.
He once again just smilingly nodded.
The cost of my stomach filling, simple but tasty south Indian poori masala and black tea was just 35 rupees.
But what was the price of what I witnessed before me between the three ladies and this man of few words that expanded my heart and fulfilled and nourished my soul?
Priceless.
And what is the invaluable lesson I take forward with this story as I am set to narrate it and share in many of my forthcoming sessions?
It is a beautiful four letter word called Hope.
And I have my father to thank for asking me to have my dinner from the Green Bakery restaurant today than the KSRTC canteen I was about to enter before this place.
I usually don't wish people on occasions like Independence day, Republic day or for that matter many other festivals and occasions. It was simply because I didn't know what to wish besides the regular empty sounding words like "Happy Independence day".
But today I found my words: I wish everybody a truly independence day when we free ourselves from the divisive world of religions and religious peddlers and discover our true freedom when we connect people-to-people across superficial and artificial differences and die just as we were born - free of any artificial, man-made superficial identifies.
And here is my independence day gift with all of you - one other song that I truly love along with the two I shared above. This is one is from the 1959 Hindi film 'Dhool ka Phool'.
Sohum
_/\_
"Onathinn naati ponniley?"
"Potta?"
Three simple questions in Malayalam.
Without context they mean nothing much and can at best be courteous pleasantries between two people.
But there's more to this given the context in which I heard those three questions.
I believe that religions should not have any more status in our lives than the bus tickets we buy.
The moment we allow them to define our identity, they separate us from others and create most of the problems in the world that we see today in addition to what history has been a witness to.
I guess the best commentary on this subject is to be found in this song from the 1972 Malayalam movie 'Achhanum Baapayum' which says:
"Man created religions
Religions created Gods
And then, man, religions and gods divided this earth and divided the hearts as well.
We became, Hindus, Musalmans and Christians, we cannot be recognised any more now; the world has become a mental asylum..."
For non Malayalees, my translation will not touch any heart strings. But for Malayalees who grew up listening to this song composed by Shri Devarajan, it is truly beautiful.
This film went on to win the 1973 Nargis Dutt National award for the best movie on national integration, best lyricist award for the genius of the Malayalam film industry - the late Shri Vayalar Rama Varma and the best male playback singer for the song above went to Shri KJ Yeshudas.
Briefly, it is a film about a hindu man who adopts a muslim girl but allows her to follow muslim traditions.
And I guess I found the next best song on the subject of religions and man made gods from the 1958 Hindi film 'Phir Subah Hogi' when I watched it being played in the movie PK in 2015.
Be that as it may, for the moment let me revert to an amazing scene I witnessed today just over 4 hours ago around 7.15 pm at the Green Bakery restaurant in the famous Chala market opposite the East Fort in Trivandrum city.
I was waiting for my dinner to arrive when I saw three women dressed in the muslim hijab approach the cash counter.
The senior most among them - a lady clearly over 60 years old and a middle aged one had not covered their faces while the youngest of them was totally covered with a niqab as well as black gloves with just her eyes visible.
While the middle aged one was talking to someone on the phone and the youngest one was rummaging through her purse to pay the bill, the oldest one asked the cashier who didn't look like a muslim - "Aren't you going to close? It's raining so heavily today."
When he smilingly nodded a No, she then asked him - "Aren't you going home for Onam?"
Once again he smilingly nodded a No even as the youngest one handed over the cash.
And then finally the old lady asked - "Potta?" meaning, "Shall I take your leave?"
Usually, the third question is exchanged between people who know each other well.
And even though her second question had set me more than curious, the third question was the tipping point for me given the conservative society that Kerala still is and that too given the increasingly polarising religious divides over the last couple of decades.
The middle aged one had by now finished her call and she smilingly and quietly pressed a 5 rupee tip into the palm of the waiter in a red t-shirt.
And the three ladies went down the stairs.
The waiter in the red t-shirt came and put the tip in something at the cash counter.
After I finished my dinner, I took the bill and went to the counter and asked the cashier his name, where was he from as I had noticed a few other customers speaking to him in Tamizh language.
He said he was from Tirunelveli district in Tamizh Nad.
I asked if the three ladies in hijab were regular customers at this vegetarian restaurant?
As before with the old lady, he just smilingly nodded.
And then I told him about my observation of the entire scene that had unfolded before me and how it was heartening to note a muslim lady enquire the way she did with a hindu man at the cash counter of a vegetarian restaurant.
Once again he just smilingly nodded.
I realised that Mr. Nataraj from Tirunelveli was, unlike me; a man of few words.
I paid my bill, turned around and said that I am a writer and I am going to write about what I just witnessed.
He once again just smilingly nodded.
The cost of my stomach filling, simple but tasty south Indian poori masala and black tea was just 35 rupees.
But what was the price of what I witnessed before me between the three ladies and this man of few words that expanded my heart and fulfilled and nourished my soul?
Priceless.
And what is the invaluable lesson I take forward with this story as I am set to narrate it and share in many of my forthcoming sessions?
It is a beautiful four letter word called Hope.
And I have my father to thank for asking me to have my dinner from the Green Bakery restaurant today than the KSRTC canteen I was about to enter before this place.
I usually don't wish people on occasions like Independence day, Republic day or for that matter many other festivals and occasions. It was simply because I didn't know what to wish besides the regular empty sounding words like "Happy Independence day".
But today I found my words: I wish everybody a truly independence day when we free ourselves from the divisive world of religions and religious peddlers and discover our true freedom when we connect people-to-people across superficial and artificial differences and die just as we were born - free of any artificial, man-made superficial identifies.
And here is my independence day gift with all of you - one other song that I truly love along with the two I shared above. This is one is from the 1959 Hindi film 'Dhool ka Phool'.
Sohum
_/\_
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