Musings from Antique Origins

L ast week, Dr Harikrishna Varma, my younger brother, wrote me if I had read a book, A Farewell to Gabo and Mercedes . He is a career scientist trained in Japan and the Head of the Bio-Medical Technology Wing of the Sree Chitra Tirunal Institute for Medical Sciences and Technology at Trivandrum. The book written by Rodrigo Garcia is the son’s memoir of his illustrious parents, Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Mercedes Barcha. My brother told me that the book reminded him of our parents and he was very moved on reading it. I immediately ordered a copy of the book and have just completed reading it. I am emotionally disturbed after reading it. The book made me think about my own life and the myriad experiences I have had over the years. This includes the deaths of my parents as well. Rodrigo Garcia, a scriptwriter by profession based out of California, tells us about the last days of his father fighting dementia and cancer through this book. Gabriel Garcia Marques, the Columbian novelist and

T he year 2021 is coming to an end. It might have been one of the gloomiest years in the history of the world. There indeed have been more tragic years in the past. But 2021 was unique. The spread of Covid 19 affected almost all parts of the world. The people were affected irrespective of their nationality, age, gender, race, caste, creed, financial or social status and health conditions. Our modern civilization supported by advanced medical and technological progress, invented and manufactured and distributed vaccines with great speed. Our descendants will never have to put 2021 on their map of human history's worst years like the 1350s (Black Death), 1918-19 (Great War and Spanish Flu) and 1943 (WW II and Holocaust). I am sure that 2021 adversely affected each one of my dear readers in various ways. While many had lost their dear ones, many others went through anxieties and inconveniences, the least of which could be their restriction on mobility. With close relatives away, par

I have since restarted my morning walk for the last two months. I had added a few kilograms to my torso that could be attributed to my son’s visit from the Netherlands. My wife’s insistence of giving him some good food that he had been deprived of long in Enschede and my sharing these foods with gay abandon indeed came at a price. As you may know, the Dutch cuisine is so bland that Unni says that bread is their best food. CHOPS, my running mates, ( Cholesterol, Blood Pressure and Blood Sugar ), found the season very conducive to their growth. A visit to Dr Rama Swamy, the octogenarian and gentle Physician at Kalpathy followed that confirmed my worst fears.    I walk towards the Kalpathy heritage village for a good 40 minutes’ stroll in the morning. Again in the evening, I go for another walk with Sindhu, my wife. The great Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh, has taught the approach to mindfulness as we go for a walk in his famous book “The Miracle of Mindfulness “. While I walk,

One of the unpleasant experiences of a post-retirement couple is when the children are away on studies or work. In our case, both our children have been away for quite some time. Our daughter pursuing her PhD is away in the US for the last five years. Our son, after completing his Masters in the Netherlands, too has been away for 42 months.   We did not have the pleasure of meeting them for all these years because their work schedules were tight. The spread of the present pandemic was also unexpected. The social and cultural fabric of our lives has been changing rapidly during the last few decades. The children have started thinking globally on all issues concerning their lives. And many of us in the twilight zone are left stranded with our baggage of many a contradiction. The internet has been benign that we could see and talk to them for hours. However, the vagaries of the time zones and the availability of the dear ones suiting our times are the common difficulties we face. Here c

Most of us have very loving memories of some of our teachers who kindled our enthusiasm to know more about the world. I have had the privilege of studying under some wonderfully great teachers, and in all humility, I bow before their fond memories. I had already written about Professor Dr Ananthakrishnan, who taught me during my post-graduation days at CUSAT. He was a direct disciple of Dr CV Raman, the Nobel laureate, and a former director of the Tropical meteorology centre, Pune. This time, as the 'Teachers' Day' approaches, I recall with great reverence my first formal teacher, a venerable grand old guru, whom everyone fondly called Aashaan . Aashaan in Malayalam means "Acharya”, the Sanskrit term that denotes a teacher or a guru. My sketch of Aashaan, Sri.Govindan Nair   In the 1950s of Kerala, the pre-school or kindergarten system had not come into vogue. Before the children went to school at 5 1/2 years, from age four onwards, they attended a “Kalari” – a o

  With my Dad,1995 The third Sunday of June is honoured as Father’s Day all over the world. When your parents are gone and if you have entered the twilight years of your life, their memories come to your mind more often. It reminds you with a pinch about the countless things you could have done for them when they were alive. It is a weighty burden that one carries to the graves or the funeral pyre. Orhan Pamuk, in his inimitable words, said, “With the death of my father, it wasn't just the objects of everyday life that had changed; even the most ordinary street scenes had become irreplaceable mementoes of a lost world whose every detail figured in the meaning of the whole.” The Museum of Innocence I cannot agree more. I have experienced what he had written once; “Every man’s death begins with the death of his father”: My Father My father, Rama Varma Thirumulpad was born in 1919, one year after the First World War ended, to Kandanchatha Othikkan Raman Namboodiri (Vedic schola