‘Formal’
is not right even in the case of Malu teacher as, in the strictest sense, she
was not a formal teacher for me. I remember Malu teacher as much as a 4 to 8
year old child can remember, because after she left our household, I had not
met her.
She
came to our house to impart some elementary learning to my aunts who had not
had any chance for school education. My aunts are my father’s sisters and
cousins. During those days, girls in the Nambudiri community were not allowed to
go to school. In very highly traditional families even boys such as my father
did not get formal schooling. Nambudiri boys were supposed to learn only to
recite Vedas. Girls - well, they should just be there and grow up and be ready
for marriage. Some of my uncles ran away from home to study and they had to
undergo lot of difficulties during those years. But that is a story for another
occasion. However, it was some of those uncles who persuaded Grandpa to agree
for a teacher to be appointed for the aunts.
Malu
teacher was from a neighbouring village. She must have been twenty or
twenty-one and came with her mother. The mother went away the same evening, telling
my Grandma,
'She
is all that I have. I am leaving her here with you. Please take care of her.'
'Don't
you worry. No harm will come to her. We are all here. Aren't we?' Grandma had
told her.
For
my aunts, the arrival of Malu teacher was like seeing the light of learning at
the end of the dark tunnel of ignorance. It was like opening up the floodgates
of knowledge. The life of everybody at home had so totally changed within a
couple of weeks. Malu teacher was the angel sent from heaven to instill a
purpose for life to my aunts, who otherwise would have remained in darkness,
physically within the confines of the big house and mentally within the
labyrinths of social customs and traditions.
I
was about three when Malu teacher came. She had a pretty, kind face and looking
at her, one felt that the best thing to do is to keep on looking at her deep
blue eyes. She would allow me to sit in her lap when the classes were going on
and would persuade me to read, write and count. My aunts, being of different
age groups, were learning at different levels. But most of the time, I was
present and had the benefit of listening to all the lessons.
In
between teaching grammar, mathematics, history and geography, Malu teacher
would talk about the freedom struggle, Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Bal
Gangadhar Tilak and other leaders. She would talk about how India came under
the foreign rule and would talk about the struggles led by various small
kingdoms. She would tell exciting stories of leaders from South, like Kerala
Varma Pazhassi Raja, Kunhali Marakkar, Chidambaram Pillai, Subrahmania Bharati
and others who resisted a foreign rule.
She
would talk in small doses about freedom, individual freedom, social freedom,
political freedom etc. I could not understand any of those things, of course. I
don't know how much my aunts understood. But it was exciting to listen to her;
to watch her eyes glow with pride while talking about an Indian leader; to
watch her becoming sad when talking about a loss for the freedom fighters; to
share those feelings. I would look at her as I listen to these talks to absorb
as much as a four year old could.
After
the lessons, we would go up to the second floor and operate the charkhas which
my uncles had bought and smuggled into the house, and make threads. It was
almost like a factory, with equipments to clean and soften the cotton,
thakkilis to make threads by those who are too young to be initiated to
charkha, then charkhas themselves.
I
was not able to operate the charkha, though, at that time. The span of my hands
was not sufficient to reach both ends of the charkha, leave alone spinning a
yarn.
'You
can do it after a couple of years Omane'. Malu teacher would say.
She
would call me Omana, just as the servants would call me. Somehow, I wished
teacher would call me by name or at least she would call me by my nickname.
I
was 7 when I had my Upanayanam and I was no more allowed to sit in Malu
teacher's lap. And I was not getting as much time to spend with teacher either,
as I could earlier because there were lot of rituals I had to do. But whenever
possible, I would be there sitting along with my aunts during the classes.
Because
of the rituals in mornings, I would miss the music lessons and would feel bad.
Somehow or other, teacher and I couldn't find another common time for music.
I
also started missing my playtime with my playmates – practically all of them
the maids’ sons. I was not supposed to touch them. If in the course of play I
touch them, I must go and take a bath. And in most cases, those boys will get a
scolding from my grandma and beating from their mothers.
Malu
teacher was there now for almost four years and suddenly one day, the whole
world changed for me. Came crashing down is probably more apt description. Malu
teacher's marriage was fixed and she had to leave us and go back to her house.
I howled and howled, I don't know for how long. For two days, I remained so
upset that I would forget the mantras during the rituals, which would make
Grandpa angry. His scolding will upset me more and I felt very miserable when I
knew there was no welcoming lap of Malu teacher to go and cry my heart out.
I
had started my formal education, or rather formal schooling, in 4th standard
because when I was around 8, my Grandpa allowed me to go to school, with a lot
of persuasion from my uncle. I didn’t have any problem on the academic front
because Malu teacher had prepared me well enough.
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