Chapter 1

Kawdiar lit by golden laburnum flowers

As I started the story of my life, I have no idealised and glorious images of a happy and secure childhood to present. Yet in the diminished circumstances that life offered, there was still the sense of wonder that colours a child�s imagination. The remembrance of the first enchanting sight was the exotic imported car owned by Sri Chithira Thirunal Balaramavarma, Maharaja of Travancore. Little Velayudan, who passed his time engaged in childish games by the roadside knew the precise timings of the Maharaja�s temple visit and the return to the Royal palace in Kawdiar. I can clearly remember the resplendent red car gliding across the Royal Avenue. A desire sprouted in my mind to be able to own a car, sometime in my life. It was the desire of a child to grab the full moon shining in the sky. I do not know why the sight of this magnificent car a Cadillac, Studebaker Land cruisers instilled this ambition in me, which perhaps no child like me would have had at this age.

I was born in a rented house at Kawdiar in 1946. Our family hailed from Neyyattinkara but finally settled at Kawdiar. My father Vamanan Nair and mother Gowrikuttyamma were domestic helps to a Brahmin family at Neyyattikara. When that family relocated to Kawdiar, we also had to migrate; there we lived in a small rented house. My maternal grandfather was a guard at Napier Museum and this was the only connection for us with Trivandum city.

When my mother went to the Brahmin family for house work, my father would go for painting work. The wages of a painter was two rupees. I was born at Kawdiar soon after the family shifted to the place.

I remember from infancy my father going for painting work. As it continues today, construction was a booming business in Trivandrum then. Labourers from the suburbs and remote areas converged in the city as government buildings and villas were sprouting. The main reason was that a democratic government had come to power and it needed office complexes and buildings for education which it had prioritised. So my father had enough work. At times he used to do the work on a contract basis. On holidays, I too used to give him a helping hand.

For reasons not known to me, my father stopped the painting work and started a betel booth at Kuravankonam. ( Betel chewing, quite common in Kerala then, needed a mix of betel leaves, areacanut, lime paste and tobacco. After chewing for few minutes, the mix will produce a blood - red juice which will give a soft intoxicating effect). The labourers, other workers, office - goers and local elders were the main customers. These betel booths had the status of the present - day cool drink parlour or the milk booths. Though meant mainly as the betel booth, other items like butter milk, bananas and sherbet drinks were also available there.

When the family grew in number and younger brothers and sisters were added, this small income was not enough for the family. Thus my father started a tea shop at Kawdiar. Since then our stay at Kawdiar became permanent.

Kawdiar in those days was entirely different. Laburnum tree lined the entire stretch on both sides of the road from the Museum to Kawdiar. I have never seen anywhere else such an enchanting sight of the yellow bloom covering the trees. I cannot explain the thrill and joy that filled my mind while walking through the empty road all alone in the spring mornings when nature decorated the trees with golden blossoms.

Kawdiar was domiciled by common people in those days. The palace and its surroundings remained the same as it today. There were small huts of the labourers in Pandit colony and Jawahar Nagar. There were only three or four houses at Kawdiar. The area was quite silent except for the sound of the cars or rickshaws passing through the road once in a while. Often a rickety old bus could be seen on the road. It was the double decker bus introduced later that attracted the locals for many years.

The two markets at Palayam and Chala and the betel shops, scattered around, gave some life to the capital city (of Kerala) in those days. The secretariat gate was not burdened with the bustle of the strikes or gimmicks of the politicians. Both sides of the roads had smartly tiled small houses. Push-carts, bullock carts and rickshaws ruled the roads. Barring the small hotels and textile shops here and there, commercial activity was practically nil. The Connemara Market at Palayam used to be active almost throughout the day.

We used to walk the entire stretch from Kawadiar to East Fort. It was not a great distance for us then. The cool shade of the trees and the serenity were a great experience to be enjoyed. The stroll through the empty road was great pleasure for us. The city was quite safe even in the dead of the night. Thefts or robberies were not heard of. The policemen with their shorts (their uniform) did not have much work to do.

The attractions of the visitors to the city were the museum, zoo, the Sankhumukham beach and the Padmanabhaswamy Temple. I have loitered around all these places with my friends. The temple structure has not undergone any change and looks the same today. It was only recently that the temple got prominence as one of the most important temples in the world with its $ 20 billion (Rs 1,20,000 crore) worth of gold and rare diamonds. The Kerala Government is planning to keep it as a high-security museum now.

It is quite baffling to see the facelift Trivandrum has acquired today compared to the 1960s when its population was a meagre 50,000. The development of the city since is unbelievable. On my return after my sojourn in America for 34 years, its population has multiplied to one million. The city road where I used to play in my childhood has been transformed into a busy four-lane road. Crossing these roads has become so traumatic that many a time I had to stand like a manikin on the roadside. Fulfilling of my childhood ambition of driving a car on the same road through which the imported car of Sri Chithira Thirunal Maharaja ran, undoubtedly was a great blessing bestowed on me. But I don't have the courage to drive on these congested busy roads. When my mind flies past the shores of my memory, I think of that old Royal Avenue still, lined with trees swaying with the golden yellow flowers. When that journey ends after 35 years, there remains only one snowy orchid in full bloom in my mind.