A Tribute to an Old Servant
MARAR------A Tribute to an Old Servant
Marar, to me, is a symbol of old times----of the carefree childhood days of fun and frolic. He was the cook-cum house –keeper for my uncle who was a chronic bachelor. Marar became a part of our family when my uncle came to stay with us in his old age
My association with Marar dates back to the time my uncle came down from Tellichery after winding up his practice as a lawyer there to settle down in his newly built house in Trichur.I used to visit him quite often with my sister or cousins Our main interest in going there was to test our culinary skills with Marar’s assistance. We used to prepare the menu for lunch and tea. Marar would get all ingredients for us and lend maximum help in our self-chosen task. We used to enjoy every minute bof the freedom we got in the kitchen where we, children, were not allowed to enter in those days
When Marar came to our house, he became the chief cook and our old servant boy became his assistant. For over a decade he dominated our kitchen. With his tall well-built frame, baldhead and tobacco chewing mouth he walked up and down in our kitchen, which had become his domain, making his presence felt everywhere. Cutting five or six jackfruits and making chips or jam out of them was a child’s play for this septuagenarian. Grating any number of coconuts and extracting milk from them was all done in no time at a time when mixers and grinders had not found their way to the kitchen. The taste of his ‘ ‘chakkamolosium ‘and ‘mangachamanthi still lingers in the mouth Nothing that I cook with all my modern cooking appliances can reach anywhere near his dishes in taste
Marar left our house after the death of my uncle who had bequeathed to him a reasonable sum of money with interest of which he lived afterwards. But he used to come to our house twice or thrice every year to see us all and he did not like to miss Trichur Pooram even after he became aged and weak. When he did not come a year or two we wrote to him to the address he had given us But for some reason our queries remained unanswered .I felt quite worried about it because, I could remember this old man, only with affection So when I got a chance to go to his home town Tellichery I was very glad .I went to see Marar who was staying with his nephew .He was a shadow of his old self. On a mat he lay with a piece of cloth thrown over him His eyes were closed and he could not recognize any one Altogether he presented a really pathetic sight as he lay there immobile and helpless When I called him several times he tried to open his eyes and I felt he wanted to say something. But speech was beyond him As I stood there watching the pitiable state of our dear old servant, I was overwhelmed by a deep sense of sadness
As I bid farewell to him mentally, I knew I was bidding good-bye to something young in myself –another link with the past was going to be broken soon
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Marar, to me, is a symbol of old times----of the carefree childhood days of fun and frolic. He was the cook-cum house –keeper for my uncle who was a chronic bachelor. Marar became a part of our family when my uncle came to stay with us in his old age
My association with Marar dates back to the time my uncle came down from Tellichery after winding up his practice as a lawyer there to settle down in his newly built house in Trichur.I used to visit him quite often with my sister or cousins Our main interest in going there was to test our culinary skills with Marar’s assistance. We used to prepare the menu for lunch and tea. Marar would get all ingredients for us and lend maximum help in our self-chosen task. We used to enjoy every minute bof the freedom we got in the kitchen where we, children, were not allowed to enter in those days
When Marar came to our house, he became the chief cook and our old servant boy became his assistant. For over a decade he dominated our kitchen. With his tall well-built frame, baldhead and tobacco chewing mouth he walked up and down in our kitchen, which had become his domain, making his presence felt everywhere. Cutting five or six jackfruits and making chips or jam out of them was a child’s play for this septuagenarian. Grating any number of coconuts and extracting milk from them was all done in no time at a time when mixers and grinders had not found their way to the kitchen. The taste of his ‘ ‘chakkamolosium ‘and ‘mangachamanthi still lingers in the mouth Nothing that I cook with all my modern cooking appliances can reach anywhere near his dishes in taste
Marar left our house after the death of my uncle who had bequeathed to him a reasonable sum of money with interest of which he lived afterwards. But he used to come to our house twice or thrice every year to see us all and he did not like to miss Trichur Pooram even after he became aged and weak. When he did not come a year or two we wrote to him to the address he had given us But for some reason our queries remained unanswered .I felt quite worried about it because, I could remember this old man, only with affection So when I got a chance to go to his home town Tellichery I was very glad .I went to see Marar who was staying with his nephew .He was a shadow of his old self. On a mat he lay with a piece of cloth thrown over him His eyes were closed and he could not recognize any one Altogether he presented a really pathetic sight as he lay there immobile and helpless When I called him several times he tried to open his eyes and I felt he wanted to say something. But speech was beyond him As I stood there watching the pitiable state of our dear old servant, I was overwhelmed by a deep sense of sadness
As I bid farewell to him mentally, I knew I was bidding good-bye to something young in myself –another link with the past was going to be broken soon
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posted by ammu at 1:18 AM
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