Roots of a Palghat Brahmin Boy

Hugely impressed by ROOTS, Alex Haley's landmark book in 1977, that traced the ancestry of an Afro American to Africa that spanned over 3 centuries, me and my father set out to trace our roots.

 

Since hardly any written material existed, we had to depend on the memory of some of the old timers in the family. My own grandfather lived upto 93 and then there were couple of his distant cousins who lived more than him. It took us about a year and a half to find out our lineage on the paternal side.

The lineage goes something like this

Rajan -->Venkateswaran 1 (father) --> Krishnan 1 (grandfather) --> Venkateswaran 2(fathers grandfather) --> Krishnan 2 (grandfathers grandfather) --> Venkateswaran 3 ( grandfathers great grandfather)

That is 6 Generations. You would have noticed that the sons take after the grandfathers name, except in my case. But that is because I am not the eldest in the family. I do have a brother who is 8 years older to me, Krishnan, who is a Senior Executive with Indian Overseas Bank.

We are tamil speaking Palghat Brahmins, though I consider myself to be more of a malayali than tamilian. Most of the Palghat Brahmins had migrated from the Thanjavur District of Tamil Nadu, about 350 kilometers away generations ago. They settled in droves, replicated the agraharams of Thanjavur District, and brought with them the rich tamil culture based on piety, knowledge and festivities. One of the most adaptable of the communities, they took to Palghat like a duck would to water and to a large extend enriched the local culture while imbibing all the good qualities of the equally rich malayali culture. That way people like me are blessed to be the beneficiaries of both the cultures. Over the last two generations, the tamil brahmin community of palghat has migrated first to Bombay and from there to mainly US. Today you can see more Palghat Brahmins in Chembur, Mattunga, Dadar in Mumbai and in the various cities of United States of America than in Palghat.

Coming back to my family history, Venkateswaran 3 found the going tough in Mayiladuthurai (Mayavaram) in the erstwhile Thanjavur District on the eastern coast of Tamil Nadu. He came by road in mid 1800's (our estimate is that it should have been around 1850) with his family and settled on the banks of the Gayathri river in Kollengode , 20 kms from Palghat town. He was an expert in making Bricks (see picture). For setting up a Brick Kiln, you need the right soil, lots of water and wood. All the three were available in Kollengode, which is on the banks of Gayathri river, fertile soil and close to the mountains that provided the wood. In fact he took a house in Pudugramam (New Village).

 

That is where his son Krishnan 2 also stayed. Since he lacked his father skills in making bricks, he bought arable land and started cultivating paddy. He led an uneventful life.

 



Krishnan Kadavu today - River is Dry Except during Monsoon

The only exciting thing to happen to him was he tripping over what apparently was a stone on the banks of river Gayathri just beneath the Pudugramam while going for a bath. When he tried to find out what caused him to trip, he found out that it was a Ganapathy idol in stone. He took the initiative to install the diety on the river bank itself and later a small temple was built. The temple still exists and is patronized by many who come to take bath in the river. The place where people take bath near the temple is still called Krishnan Kadavu, after him.

The Pillayar Kovil as it is now

 

His son Venkateswaran 2 (Venkateswaran Paatta) was an agriculturalist after his father. But for some reason, he moved his family away from Pudugramam, purchased a house in Perumal Kovil Gramam (PK Village), about 4 kilometers away. The significance of this move was that the family moved away from the Banks of the river.

 

Venkateswaran Paatta (Paatta means grand father)died young, he was about 50 years old when he died of an incurable disease. There are rumours that he was afflicted with a version of leprosy, but there is a black veil over his disease, which is understandable. This, however, could not be verified.



Perumal Kovil Temple as it is today

His dying at an early age put all the burden of the family on my Grandfather, Krishnan 1 or Krishna Iyer. He was very young and immature to take up the responsibility of a large family that included him and his 3 sisters. A very carefree character, he was good at networking and was the livewire in the village. Not very devout, he was the quintessential organizer. He was also renowned for his selfless service to the Village members and extremely honest. Struggling to make both ends meet, he survived on a small job he held in the Co-operative store as a Clerk (he was knows as Store Krishna Iyer), augmented by the income he got from the agricultural land in the base of the mountains 7 kms away. The land was leased out as 'paattam' to the 'kudiyan', who ultimately took advantage of the Land Reforms Act and got complete possession of it. After 1970s, he lived on the meagre income he got as lease from the tiller, and the money sent by my father. He also maintained 2-3 cows, whose milk Grandmother sold to the nearby houses. He immersed himself in temple acitivities, essentially as an organizer. By 1980s most of the youngsters from the village had migrated, but they trusted my Grandfather. During the Car Festival in the temple, they will send donations only to him and no one else. He used to duly prepare receipts, ensure that the poojas they required was done on the due date and post the prasadams diligently. My enduring image is of him sitting on the verandah writing post cards in his lovely handwriting to the migrant birds from the village living in Mumbai or Chennai.

 

My grandfather Krishna Iyer had one son, my father Venkateswaran, and one daughter. He had the forethought to see that the next generation cannot survive without Education. He put all his hopes on his son, borrowed money and educated my father, who was brilliant in his studies. The house in PK Village did not have electricity till my father graduated and got married in 1954. My father completed his school in Rajah High School, Kollengode. Those days, the entire Malabar (from Palghat to Mangalore) had one seat as Quota for Intermediate (11th and 12th) in Loyola College, Madras. Father was hopeful of getting that seat. He also got admission card from Victoria College, Palghat for PUC. On the date of Admission in Victoria, father took a rickety bus to Palghat and was standing in the long queue to pay the admission fee of Rs 5 (A huge amount those days. Even that was borrowed money). His heart was heavy as he had set his mind on studying in Madras. The queue moved. There were two students in front of him, when he heard a shout 'Mani (his nickname), dont pay, dont pay'. It was Grandfather running towards him, wearing just a Dhothi (in his rush he had forgotten to wear a shirt) and waving a piece of paper. Panting, he came near my father and told him that the Admission Card from Loyola had just come in by post after my father had left. If my father had paid Rs 5, then my grandfather couldnt even think of raising another Rs 5 for his fee in Madras. Father went on to shine academically. He finished his Intermediate with flying colours, got admission in Guindy Engineering College, Madras, studied there for one year and then transfered to Govt. College of Technology, Coimbatore. He passed out in 1952. By then the family was in deep debt. He first worked in All India Radio, Delhi for a year and then got an employment with the then Madras State Electricity Board in 1954. He started his career with Electicity Board in Radhapuram, Tirunelveli District. When Kerala State was formed in 1956, he opted to join the Kerala State Electricity Board, where he continued till his retirement in 1985. His job took him to various parts of Kerala - Many places in Idukki District like Moozhiyar, Peerumedu, Vaikkom, Vadakara, Palghat and Chittur. Once he was employed, he moved away from the Village, to come back only once in a while. My brother stayed with my grandfather for his high schooling for 3 years, but me and my sister were only occassional visitors to the house in the Village (It is claimed that no one death took place within the walls of the house for 150 years. Those who died, died elsewhere including my grandfather). Father had no interest in the house, though he invested in it to make it comfortable for my grandparents. Grandfather died in 1998 and the house was kept locked. Father followed him in 2004. In 2007, my aunt took the initiative to sell the house. I wanted to buy it, but did not have the money at that time. It fetched us Rs 12 lakhs, to be shared by Aunt, me and my 2 siblings. Though I was the guy who never stayed much in that house, unlike my Aunt, her children or even my brother, I had a lump on my throat when the house was sold. It was as if the last link with my ancestors was being cut. Father built a house in Palghat and lived there for 13 years. The house is being rented out.

 

I moved on and am in Kuwait now. From the obscurity of poverty in a small village in Eastern Tamil Nadu to Kollengode to various parts of Kerala to Kuwait, from being Brick makers to farmers to Blue Collared workers to a Senior Engineer in Government to Assistant Vice President in an Oilfield Services Company (and also a Management Teacher), from the Kaveri Basin to the Bharathapuzha Basin (Gayathri river is a tributery) to the waterless deserts of Kuwait, the Venkateswaran-Krishnan family has come a long way and has evolved over the intervening decades.



Sometimes I feel I am a driftwood. Where o where have all the cultural moorings gone?