This is the third part of the article Down The Memory Lane (in four parts) by Gopalan, my brother. This was published in May 2003 Newsletter- Parthasarathy (Editor)

Whenever I come across Reader's Digest magazine, I read the article 'My most unforgettable character' with avid interest, as we come across various types of people in these articles. If I were to be asked to contribute to this section by the Editor of the Reader's Digest, which possibility is, of course extremely remote, I shall unhesitatingly choose my grand father, S.Chakravarthy Ayyangar, popularly known to my generation, as Sulankurichi Thatha, as my most unforgettable character. As I look back to those wonderful summer holidays we spent in his company in Sulankurichi Village, from 1939 to 1954 and afterwards in Vedachala Gardens, Chennai (Agraharam) till his death in 1966, I am filled with a great sense of remorse, that I did not spare more time to his company, especially in his last stages, when he underwent great physical suffering due to bouts of Asthma. He was indeed a great and noble character and all of us can feel justifiably proud in being his descendants. Since most of his great grandchildren were either not born, or were too small, when he died, I am writing this article, so that each one of his grand sons, grand daughters, great grandchildren and their children may know about and appreciate their noble ancestor.

My grandfather and grandmother lived in Sulankurichi village in South Arcot District. He was the Munsif of Sulankurichi Village, holding the rank of village head. He had three sons, and three daughters, out of whom, only two sons (My father and Raghavan Chittappa) and one daughter (Rukmani Athai) survived when I was born. My two other aunts had died at young age, after bearing five children and seven children respectively. My eldest aunt's children were Seema Anna, Mettur Ramu Anna, Gopu Anna, Rajam Anna, Jaya Akka (Amritha's mother). Rukku Akka (who was in Delhi and died some years back) and Jana Akka (who is now living alone in Kancheepuram) while my second aunt's children were Delhi Ramu Anna, Rangan Anna, Gopu Anna, Chinnappa and Radha. My one uncle had been given in adoption to a close relative of my grandmother in nearby Padur village. He drowned while bathing in Padur lake when he was 10 years old. My grandparents firmly believed that he was murdered by close relatives of his adopted father for the sake of property. From that time, my grandfather had an abiding hatred for Padur and its residents.

As my brother Parthasarathy mentioned in his article, 'I was never bored', we children looked forward to our trip to Sulankurichi village, during our summer vacations. This was because of the carefree atmosphere of village life, without any school and studies, taking bath in Manimutharu river daily in the morning, the sumptuous food and rare eatables, like Kambu Vadai (Maize Vadai), fresh Karuppancharu (cane juice), morning breakfast of பழையது (previous night's rice with lot of fresh curds and hot Avakkai pickles, or previous day's left-over Mendhiya (Vatha) Kuzhambu (I became such an addict of this item that even when I took food in a South Indian mess at Nagpur before marriage, I used to request the mess owner to keep some Vathakuzhambu for next day) and Maavadu (small mango) pickle, sweets like Adhirasam, etc. More than anything else, we looked forward to our stay with our grandparents, who also looked forward eagerly to the visit of their darling grandchildren. I still look back with nostalgia to the genuine affection of my grandparents, who gave their love to all their grandchildren with equal measure.

My first impression of my grandfather was his commanding personality, even though he was only 5'6" tall, with shining bald head, a conspicuous Ayyangar mark of Thiruman and Srichurnam (Namam) in his face, loving but mischievous eyes and a booming voice. This impression is still vivid not only in my memory, but also in that of all his grandchildren. It was therefore no surprise that my wife, Vijaya on just glancing at his partly revealed photo, shouted 'Sulankurichi Thatha' and got a prize during the family get-together arranged by Parthasarathy and Amritha in June 2002 immediately after they came to Madras after many years in Bombay. My grandfather actually had two different voices, one a commanding one to the servants and other villagers, who came to him during his official work and the other a loving and tender voice for his small grandchildren.

My father used to reserve the tickets for himself, my mother and the children, Vanaja, myself, Sampath, Raghu and Parthasarathy to go to Sulankurichi Village, quite early, as there was no time limit for Railway reservations at that time and being a teacher in P.S.High School at Mylapore, he knew when the summer vacation started. He used to carry the examination papers for correction and sent them after correction to C.S.K. (C.S.Krishnaswamy Ayyangar) who was my father's brother-in-law and co-teacher in P.S.High School . I can even recall my father's correcting the papers, sitting in the front verandah in the village. As he was a very conscientious teacher, he attended to the correction work first and despatched the corrected papers before doing any other work in the village. He used to finish the correction of about 1000 answer papers in English and Geography of fourth and fifth forms (9th and 10t standards) of the whole school, within two to three days. I also remember vividly his receiving a letter from my uncle about my topping the school in VI form (SSLC) and getting a coveted prize.

My grandfather had many endearing qualities. We all remember even now how he used to wait for us at the Thyagadurgam Railway station with a bullock cart which he himself drove so that we could sit more comfortably in the bullock cart. I also remember how he used to bring a stove and make coffee for us to drink after a tiresome journey (as he felt) though the train journey was always comfortable and jolly for us children. My father used to walk the distance of about 6 km, to our village while my mother and we children came in the cart. After traveling some distance , I could realize how far-sighted my father was as there was no tar road and our head bumped against the roof of the cart, every now and then. After some distance, I requested my grandfather to allow me also to walk with my father. Since I was comparatively elder to my little brothers, I was granted permission to walk. After that first journey, I used to prefer walking though if I became tired, I was accommodated happily in the bullock cart by my grandfather.

Even though my grandfather was very loving and spoke to the grand children in a tender voice, he used to get angry sometimes and shouted at some mischief-monger amongst us. Being a villager, he used choice epithets, the least vulgar among them being 'Padur Mundam' (Headless corpse of Padur). To this day I do not know why Padur village residents were called fools by my grandfather, as some relatives from Padur, whom I came across were very intelligent. Perhaps the loss of his son that I mentioned earlier was the cause.

Even though my grand father was a lion among the villagers and to his grandchildren, like all husbands, he was afraid of his wife (My grandmother). I still remember her taking him to task for some imaginary omission to do something for the grandchildren like not bringing Karuppancharu or some such little thing. Anyway it was he who always had the last word in his arguments with his wife, this being, 'you are absolutely correct' or 'I shall attend to it immediately'. I also remember vividly his making a mechanical device consisting of a fan (punkah) fixed above his wife's bed with a rope attached by pulling which continuously, my grandmother got some air. Since the village was very hot during summer, my grandfather used to pull the rope in the night till my grandmother slept. Sometimes he would stop pulling the rope thinking that she has slept. She would then grunt and he would immediately start pulling the rope. Looking back after so many years, I now realize that it was not fear but tender love for his life partner, who chose to lead a lonely life with him in the village, instead of going to the cities where their children lived. He was an ideal husband and attended to all his wife's needs. My grandmother was with my chittappa in Bangalore (I think) in 1954 when she died. At that time my grandfather was spending sometime with us at Madras, It is really a coincidence or telepathy or whatever you may call it, he had some premonition of her impending end and went to my chittapa's place just one or two days before her death. I feel that the Almighty brought them together and he was at her bedside when she died.

My grand father was an extremely brave man with a great deal of presence of mind. Once he had accompanied his niece, little Jayam (Jaya Akka, Amritha's mother) to the garden in front of our house in the village. The child was playing while he was engaged in some other work. Suddenly, he noticed that the child had disappeared. Then he remembered that there was an uncovered ground level well nearby. Without a moment's hesitation, he jumped into the well fully dressed. The well was very deep. He caught hold of the little girl just when she was about to drown for the third and final time. By that time, people had gathered there, and the grandfather and granddaughter were pulled out with a rope. Miraculously there was not even a scratch on little Jayam's body. After some time, she opened her eyes, and asked, "Where is mother?" Every one was surprised because her mother had breathed her last about 6 years earlier. Then she told her grandfather that when she was about to drown in the well, her mother took her in her arms and told her, "Don't be afraid. I am with you and no harm will come to you." Even though present day rationalists may say that this is a cock and bull story, my grand parents and all my relatives of that generation sincerely believed that the dead mother came as a guardian Angel to save her daughter from sure death.

Another instance which I recall very vividly which showed the great presence of mind of my grandfather occurred during one summer vacation when our family as well as Raghavan Chittappa's family had both gone to the village for summer holidays. This was usual and our family, Raghavan Chittappa's family and Rukmini Athai's family (my in-laws) used to visit the village for the summer from our respective cities and at least for about two full months all of us were together. One day, at about 7.00 p.m. Varadan (Raghavan Chittappa's son), who was lying down on the floor suddenly started screaming loudly, complaining of severe pain in his head, near the right ear. Every one was stunned and a paroxym of fear descended on everyone, as medical facilities were unknown in the village. At that time, my grandfather took the boy in his lap, turned him to one side and looked into his right ear. What he saw must have confirmed his suspicions and he asked my mother to bring some gingelly oil after heating it slightly. He slowly poured this into the right hear of the screaming boy. After some time, the child's screaming subsided. My grand father then turned the boy other side and shook his head. A dead centipede (பூரான்) fell out of the boy's right ear. The பூரான் had entered the boy's right ear while he was sleeping and was burrowing further and further causing agonies to the boy. My grandfather's presence of mind saved the boy's life on that day.

To be continued...

S.Rajagopalan
May 2003