SWAAMIYE OH SWAMIYE !

                                    SWAAMIYE  OH  SWAAMIYE

 G.VENKATESH

   During the 1930/40s  World War II had broken out . 

The British our then masters had declared an emergency and ordered evacuation in  like Bombay, Calcutta. 

Thus my father sent my mother and children to our ancestral home in our native place  Chokkanathapuram, a sleepy  village in the Kalpati district of  Kerala.

The village  consisted of about 60 assorted houses, along with a school, provision stores and two temples.  

The people by and large were very friendly, deeply religious  and superstitious; 

all of them seem to know each other very well; unlike in the big cities, where one does not sometimes know his immediate neighbour,.

By and large the people were agriculturists although there were some who were priests, and traders.

As everyone knows , at that time there was no electricity in the villages; thus soon after sunset, and the evening prayers at the temple, the village would be deserted, as everybody would be in their respective homes. 

Although it is more than 70 years, now, I still remember a few incidents very vividly as though it happened yesterday.  One was the oil bath  which I detest even today; 

but, my mother insisted on my undergoing this ordeal every Saturday;  

Well, if getting your body completely oiled was not enough, my mother believed that for the oil to soak inside the body fully,  my oil soaked body had to be in the sunshine for about one hour! 

To add insult to injury, I would be asked to go to the nearby river with only a loin cloth for cover up  along with others and take a bath.

Another ordeal I had to endure was to take a purgative at the beginning of every month.

My mother believed the  purgative kept me healthy free of any sicknesses. 

It was castor oil; and somehow my mother forced it into my mouth; 

Those days that was the only purgative available;

those who have tasted castor oil will understand my plight.

It was always a wrestling match between me and my mother; 

The winner of course was my mother; 

she would wrestle me down, pinning my arms and legs to cut off all escape route, close my nostrils forcibly  with her fingers to open my mouth and shove the castor oil down my throat..

To add to the agony during the day I had to pay frequent visits to the toilet, which was a dugout in the courtyard  behind the house.

Ofcourse, it was also a fasting day for me  and only in the night, I was given some rice along with boiled water!

Sometimes I felt the elders, beginning with the grandparents, enjoyed my plight and whenever I got into any mischief , would threaten me with this punishment !

An interesting  personality in the village was  Keshavan.  

A 50 year old bachelor,  he was the go to man, [Man Friday ] for the village;  

When any house needed some help they would turn to Keshavan.

There was a barter payment system; so for services rendered, Keshavan's charges were  free day and night meals at the house, he helped.  

Further Keshavan would also buy  from outside, , whatever items not available in the village.  He used to take me along [ofcourse with my mother's permission)  in his bullock cart.   

Keshavan also served as the communicator, from the outside world to the village;

God knows from where he got the information; 

but the village eagerly awaited his news, at the temple  every morning;   

Of course there were no newspapers at that time, in the village.

I learnt about the German's bombing Madras port in the war from  Keshavan;

One of the days, the village looked forward to was the annual temple day festival.       

Generally it was a two day affair where in  Rath   (temple  Chariot)  borrowed from the main village Kalpati would move from our village to nearby villages and return  before night to the village. 

There was a belief among the people that if  young children when hoisted and made to sit all alone,  at the very top seat in the Rath, for one entire trip of the rath, would imbibe the courageous qualities of the Lord  Krishna.

My mother, much against my wishes, took me to the rath  and arranged for this ordeal for me !

To be seated all alone, right near the very top of the rath, was really very scary  for me ! for the entire  trip;  

Luckily for me I did not make the mistake of looking down from where I was seated.   

While it  was lonely  at the top, I somehow managed to pass the time and returned to the village safely !

At the culmination of the festival, the households, prepared  prasaadams [offerings] for the temple of God Krishna;  

There used to be friendly contests from the village housewives on the offerings.

Now since our family deity was Lord Ganesha, my mother had made 108  Kozakattais [ modaks] considered the Lord's favourite; 

My mother was an expert in preparing modaks.  

In deciding the quantity of each constituent[  rice flour, jaggery, cocoanut,  etc]  to forming the modaks so that each of the108  pieces looked identical as if made from a die, there was nobody to beat her.  

My eyes, looked at the modaks greedily wondering when I will get my fingers to snap 1 or 2 and put it in my mouth. My mother had warned me with severe consequences, if I ever touched the modaks, before offerings to the Lord.

After a long wait, my mother took some of the prasadaams to the temple at an auspicious time.  

Sure enough, it was the envy of all in the temple.

Now there was a custom in the village among the elders, to recite the holy scriptures while the offerings were made at the temple. among them was Keshavan.   

Many of them would swoon  during the end of the recital, and the village believed that those who  had  swooned had  attained [become] God;  

the villagers would then prostrate before them shouting   "Swaamiye, Swaamiye" [meaning, 'God, God',];

Sure enough Keshavan, swooned and started  walking   towards my house.

I understood Keshavan's motive; he had set his mind on eating our house  modaks;

My mother followed and  invited him into the house towards, our  house deity and all in the house shouted "Swaamiye  Swaamiye"[ meaning God has come to our house];

My mother placed the modaks, before Keshavan  during the recital;  

Keshavan, started eating the modaks, one by one;  

my mouth was watery and I envied  Keshavan;  

Finally, after partaking of about 30 modaks,  Keshavan left.  

Finally  I managed to get my hand on two of the modaks.

The taste was heavenly and vanished down the throat  within seconds !