An unforgettable Onam

 

The first thing I said when Ravi was planning a Srinagar trip was “I am not coming”. Kashmir was not an attractive place for me personally, previous terrorism stories being in the back of my mind. Anyway when everything was arranged through saini tours & travels I agreed to go. Glad today that I did. Otherwise I would have had a heart attack in Kerala thinking of the Kashmir flood.

Ravi, myself, Dr Udayabhaskaran and family left for Nedumbassery on the 3^rd evening. Hari, Udayans son was caught in road block while coming from Coimbatore and arrived late. Was it a bad Omen? Early morning caught Indigo flight to Delhi. From there another flight to Srinagar. Met some senior Nurse colleagues from Kerala who were going for a meeting. We had almost reached the city when we heard some passengers from behind saying there was flood in Jammu. Not knowing the proximity, we were not worried about Srinagar. There was raining in Srinagar, not heavy as in kerala. Any way since our taxi was ready we reached hotel Snow palace. After resting for some time went for a short trip around the city. Saw to Dal lake and many house boats. Took some snaps. Since the tourist spots  Gulmarg and Pahalgav were not accessible due to water on the way we were wondering what to do. Next day got the news that road to sonamarg was open. Sind river flowing along was a beautiful sight. Sonamarg was a beautiful valley with hills all around. Locals with horses were behind us for a trip. We did not go as the horses were not quite clean. We walked a bit ,did some shopping we went to a hotel for lunch. After lunch we returned to hotel.

Next day ( 6^th)  too went for local sight seeing. Did some shopping. Started planning to return as further sight seeing is not possible due to rain. Arranged the return tickets and was to leave by 10 am next morning. That night there was quite a din outside, but we thought some new tourist were checking in making all the noise. Next day UB was up saying the water level was rising. On looking outside there was a slow trickle of water in to the hotel courtyard. Nothing to worry the hotel folks said. They were actually moving their commodities to the upper floor the previous night when an announcement came saying that Jhelum river is overflowing. It seems UB approached them asking whether evacuation is needed. But they said that moving commodities is just a precaution and nothing to worry. The trickle rose to cover the ground floor in a couple of hours. We phoned our driver but he could not come. Water was again rising covering 3/4^th of the first floor. We appeared safe on the 4^th floor.( We had already shifted from the first floor. But how long? Did n’t know whether the base of the building is safe or not. Electricity and phone connections were out. Since the hotel people had filled the tanks there was water in the rooms. Nobody was interested in food. My gastritis was creating problems. Anyway decided to go to the make shift kitchen in the hall. Provisions were there in plenty. Made some tea. Prepared ghee rice and boiled eggs at about 4 pm. That was our Onam meal.

A couple of rubber boats came and went. There was water inside the boat. We didn’t go as rawers appeared tough- also they were only taking women and children. We don’t know what the situation outside is. Meanwhile helicopters were coming and picking up people with out luggage. We learnt the way they were lifting people in case need arose. The hotel people broke the false ceiling to see if we could stand on the roof to attract helicopter. But it was in vain as it was not easy to stand on the slanting roof.

All of us slept in one room as there was the possibility of looting. Second night during early hours of morning at around 2 am got some mobile network coverage in Ravi’s mobile and arranged to call brother and daughter so that at least the anxiety over there can be minimized. He also called the MP and CM to appraise the situation. Next day on 8^th some Gujaratis and myself made some rice and green gram curry. There was some excess rice which we took for evening meal mixing with atta, left over green gram and onion made special puri and potato curry. Joining the general pool also reduced our tension.

Meanwhile as in all places there were some selfish persons. A fat man who was always hungry took away packets of milk to his room and would boil and drink. Later when requested he brought back some to general group. I had some cornflakes with out milk and returned the packet. That too went missing. There were many eggs, and that too went to the top floor where the hotel staffs were cooking separately. As a precaution I took off some noodle packets to our room, so that we could use it in the general pool.

The next day morning the owner’s relatives who were with us escaped in a boat. They were creating more tension for us continuously. Their old father remained in the hotel. That evening a rubber boat arrived looked like a military boat saying it would take women and children. The muslim amongst us Mrs Shehala and daughter plus an old man went over. After they went we were frightened whether they would be taken else where. Her husband and son too were there. Till Shehala returned next morning in another boat the next day we were worried. Sleep was less these days. After Shehala and family left we decided to go out in the next boat. Ladies first, that also created tension. Shehala was saying that they had stayed on a bridge with thousand others, in the bitter cold the previous night. Luckily no boat arrived though we were all prepared to go. That afternoon the mass cooking session went on this time. This time rice and rajma curry. Now, one hotel boy was helping. They were angry at first as the management people had escaped. To please them we gave them the food we prepared calling them beta, beta. Finally they started helping us. The chief cook among us was Leena deedi, Veena kumari and Seema. Leena deedi had some rheumatic problem was a bit bent, but still she boosted our morale. She actually prepared suji halwa one evening. We dressed up a couple of times, but no boat came that evening.

Next day(10^th) we again packed everything and get dressed. We decided to take a hand bag, keep the rest of the luggage in the hotel as we didn’t know the destination. Finally a boat arrived with 2 boatsmen. Ratnam with sari and all fell down while in boat. So I was careful. I sat on the window sill and the boatman took me down. The boatmen were tired it seems. He had rescued about 400 people that day. Inspite of that he was caring, asking us to keep our hands inside to avoid the electricity wires and trees in the water. Our hotel people gave him some food. After one trip another man went over and brought Ravi and the children. The hotel people threw in the baggage too, so that weight also has to be borne. The boat dropped us in the road. The road was dry and we can see the Zero Bridge ahead. But we are not sure where to go. Thousands of people were walking in all directions.We could see a helicopter droping food items on the bridge. When biscuits and water bottles broke, people were throwing stones at the helicopter. Such was the hostility of locals. Our question was what further. There were none to turn to. We walked in the direction to where majority were proceeding. Some locals helped us by carrying our luggage. Most of the people were directing towards the hill top where the UN office is located. Beyond that there is another hill where the Raj bhavan is located and the helipad is adjacent to that.Some body was saying that if you can register at UNO you will be picked up by helicopter and take to either Srinagar or Ladak airport. That is the only way out.

We were all tired by walking in the sun. Luckily we met one woman returning from the UN office saying that there is absolutely no use going there. Again uncertainty!! We could see a hospital nearby. It is the Govt. hospital for chest diseases. We walked in to it. There was a single doctor there on duty since 5-6 days. He was irritable, anyway he told us to remain in the hospital. We sat for sometime in the patient waiting area. There was no patients, but a young couple with 2 children have taken shelter there. We were planning to put the benches together for a night’s sleep. There was no food, therefore we bought some kurkura and apple juice. Most of the shops were closed.

While waiting in despair we met few sisters from kerala. They were with us in the flight from delhi to srinagar.They had actually came there 3 days back. Running from the flood site when the water level suddenly rose. Hospital people provided them a little rice and dal curry it seems, which was now almost over. There was no facility to go to toilet even. The bushes behind the hospital were the makeshift bath room, water being collected from a road side pipe. They agreed to share the seminar hall where they were staying, though some north Indians in that group objected. There was a retired army officer among that group of trained nurses. She had gone to army base that morning for help. She returned in the evening saying that vehicles had been arranged to take the sisters to the army camp. They left by 6 pm and we were left alone. Again despair. That place doesn’t appear quite safe. The local people were objecting to special attention given to tourists. Actually after the sisters left few local people came to enquire who we are. We were tensed up and was watching what is happening outside. We could not sleep that night. Mobile phone was still not working. Early morning Ravi and Nithin went to high mountains behind the hospital hoping that mobile range may be there. They were successful and informed the paramilitary about our location. They could also inform back home that we are safe and trying to get back as early as possible. We sustained on dry fruits in our baggage and the 2 water bottles given by the sisters. Most worrying thing was the insecurity in that hostile environment. We thought that if not rescued on that day we will try to walk to airport in the early hours of next day, even though we are not sure about the distance or the condition of the road. But that was the only option available to us.

Waiting with prayers, as if from heaven, around 3 pm a group of youngsters arrived. One of them introduced himself as Asfaq from SSB. They were not in uniform. He said that they were sent by SSB commandant to rescue us. They asked how long it will take for us to be ready. We are elated and took hardly 5 minutes to pack and leave. They were 8 people and were caring and lovable. They carried our luggage and took us through roads and narrow passages and finally through chest high water. It was almost 5 km distance but never thought of the distance or the water level.They were all in mufti to disguise themselves as tourists, otherwise they feared that locals will not permit our travel. The behaviour of people on the road was also like that. We always kept silent for whatever they asked, not to provoke any body. After the long walk we boarded the army truck waiting for us. Truck was moving through water body. We could see that the whole of srinagar is in waters. All the people were out in the flood moving in different directions.We could see the Govt offices, banks etc  in water. We finally reached the residential flat of the commandant Mr Ranjith. He gave us food and shelter in that night. Arranged our tickets back to New Delhi.Next day morning after breakfast we left to airport. On the way we visited the medical camp conducted by SSB. It was a terrible scene. Thousands of patients waiting, only 3 doctors and few medicines. SSB was trying their level best provide care to every body 

ഒരു ദുസ്വപ്നം പോലെ

 

നല്ല ഉറക്കമായിരുന്നു. പെട്ടെന്നെന്തോ ദുസ്വപ്നം കണ്ടിട്ടെന്നോണം ഞെട്ടി ഉണർന്നു. ആരോ ഞരങ്ങുന്നത് പോലെ തോന്നി. രണ്ടു ദിവസം മുമ്പ് കണ്ട സിനിമയിലെ രംഗമാണോ.

സ്ഥലകാലബോധം തിരിച്ചു കിട്ടിയപ്പോഴാണ് മനസ്സിലായത് ഇത് ദാസിന്റെ ശബ്ദമല്ലേ. ദാസ് എന്ന് വിളിക്കുന്ന ദേവദാസ്. എന്റെ കൂടെ അഞ്ചാം ക്ലാസ്സിൽ പഠിച്ച അയൽക്കാരൻ. അല്പം സത്ര്യണ സ്വഭാവം ഉള്ളത് കൊണ്ടായിരിക്കും എല്ലാരും ദാസിനെ കളിയാക്കും. അത് കൊണ്ടായിരിക്കും അഞ്ചാം ക്ലാസ്സിൽ പഠിപ്പ്‌ നിർത്തി. വീട്ടിൽ പച്ചകറി കൃഷിയും പശുവളർത്തലും ഉണ്ട്. ദാസ് പഠിപ്പ്‌ നിർത്തി അമ്മയെ സഹായിക്കാൻ തുടങ്ങി. രണ്ടു വർഷം കഴിയുമ്പോഴേക്കും അല്പസല്പം സമ്പാദിക്കാനും തുടങ്ങി. അടുത്ത വീട്ടിലായത് കൊണ്ട് സ്കൂളില്ലാത്ത ദിവസ്സങ്ങളിൽ ഞാൻ ദാസിന്റെ അടുത്ത് പോകും. പച്ചക്കറി തോട്ടത്തിലൂടെ നടന്നാൽ കക്കിരി കോളുന്തും പയറും പറിച്ചു തിന്നാം. ദാസിന്റെ പശുക്കളും പാവങ്ങളാണ്. തൊടാനും തലോടാനും നിന്ന് തരും.

അവധിക്കാലം രാവിലെ മുതൽ കളിയാണ്. അന്നൊരു ഞാറാഴ്ച ആണെന്ന് തോന്നുന്നു. തൊട്ടിനക്കരേ ഒരു ചെറിയ പാടത്തിൽ ഞങ്ങൾ കളിക്കുകയായിരുന്നു. ഞാനും രാജനും ദാമുവും. അവർ രണ്ടു പേരും എന്നെക്കാൾ ഒരു വയസ്സിനു ഇളയതാണ്. വേനൽകാലമായതുകൊണ്ട് വയലിൽ അങ്ങിങ് കുറച്ചു പച്ചപ്പെ ഉള്ളു. കുറച്ചുകഴിഞ്ഞപ്പോൾ ദാസ് പശുവുമായി അങ്ങോട്ടേക്ക് വന്നു. വയലിന്റെ നടുക്കുള്ള കവുങ്ങിന്റെ കുറ്റിയിൽ പശുവിനെ കെട്ടി, മേയാൻ വിട്ട് ഞങ്ങളൊപ്പം കളിക്കാൻ കൂടി.

ഏകദേശം ഒരു മണിക്കൂർ കളിച്ചുകാണും. അപ്പോഴേക്കും ദാസ് പശൂനെ അഴിച്ചു പോകാൻ തിരക്ക് കൂട്ടി. മറ്റു രണ്ടുപേരും അടുത്തുപോയി തടസ്സം നിന്നു. ആ ബഹളത്തിനിടയിൽ പശു ഓടി. കൊല്ലിതോടിന്റെ നേർക്കാണ് ഓടിയത്. ഞാൻ നിൽക്കുന്നത് ആ ഭാഗത്തായിരുന്നു. പെട്ടെന്നാണ് എനിക്ക് മനസ്സിലായത് പശു ദാസിനെയും വലിച്ചു കൊണ്ടാണോടുന്നതെന്നു. ബഹളത്തിനിടയിൽ ആരോ ഒരാൾ കയറിന്റെ കുടുക്ക് ദാസിന്റെ കഴുത്തിലിട്ടെന്ന് തോന്നുന്നു. പെട്ടെന്ന് എന്ത് ചെയ്യാൻ പറ്റുമെന്നു ആലോചിച്ചു. പശു എന്റെ അടുത്ത് എത്തിക്കഴിഞ്ഞു. എന്തെങ്കിലും പെട്ടെന്ന് ചെയ്യാൻ പറ്റിയില്ലേൽ ദാസിന്റെ ജീവൻ അപകടത്തിലാവും. ഞാൻ പശുവിന്റെ കഴുത്തിലെ കയറിൽ പിടിച്ചു. പശു ഒന്ന് നിന്നെന്നു തോന്നി. പെട്ടെന്ന് തല ഒന്ന് കുടഞ്ഞു മേലോട്ട് ചാടി. പശുവിന്റെ കൊമ്പ് എന്റെ ശരീരത്തിൽ എവിടെയോ തട്ടി. ആ വേദനയിൽ ഞാൻ ബോധം നഷ്ടപ്പെട്ടു താഴെ വീണു.

ബോധം വന്ന് എണീറ്റപ്പോൾ ആദ്യം ഒന്നും ഓർമ വന്നില്ല. പതുക്കെ ആണ് നടന്നത് എന്താണെന്നു ഓർത്തെടുക്കാൻ കഴിഞ്ഞത്. കൂട്ടുകാരെ രണ്ട് പേരെയും കണ്ടില്ല. കൊല്ലിതോടിന്റെ ഭാഗത്തു നിന്നു ഒരു ഞരക്കം കേൾക്കുന്ന പോലെ. അമ്മേ എന്ന നേർത്ത വിളി. ഇത് ദാസാണ്. അപകടം നടന്നിരിക്കുന്നു. ഞാൻ ശബ്ദം കേട്ട ഭാഗത്തേക്ക്‌ ഓടി. കൈതച്ചെടിയുടെ ഇടയിലൂടെ വേണം പോകാൻ. ശരീരത്തിൽ മുള്ളു കൊണ്ട് വേദനിക്കുന്നു. നൂണും മണങ്ങിയും ദാസിന്റെ അടുത്തെത്തി. ശരീരം നിറയെ രക്തം പൊടിയുന്നു. കഴുത്തിൽ കയർ മുറുകികിടക്കുന്നു. മൂളുന്നുണ്ട്. ജീവനുണ്ട് എന്നെ പറയാൻ പറ്റു. ഞാൻ കഴുത്തിൽ നിന്നു കയർ മാറ്റാൻ നോക്കി. പറ്റുന്നില്ല. മുറുകികിടക്കുകയാണ്. രണ്ടു വലിയ കല്ലിന്റെ ഇടയിലാണ്. കല്ലിനു കുടുങ്ങി കിടക്കുന്നതു കൊണ്ടാവണം പശുവിന് മുന്നോട്ടു പോവാൻ പറ്റാത്തത്. ദൈവമേ ആ കല്ലുകൾ തടസ്സം നിന്നില്ലെങ്കിൽ. പത്തു പതിനഞ്ചു മീറ്ററിനപ്പുറം വെള്ളമുള്ള തൊടാണ്. ഞാൻ പശു നിൽക്കുന്ന ഭാഗത്തേക്ക് പോയി. തൊടിന്റെ അടുത്തായി അത് അനങ്ങാതെ നില്കുന്നുണ്ട്. അതിനും കാര്യത്തിന്റെ ഗൗരവം പിടി കിട്ടിയ പോലെ. ഞാൻ പതുക്കെ കഴുത്തിലെ കയർ വിടുവിച്ചു. പശു വീട്ടിലേക്കു ഓടിപോയി. ഞാൻ തോട്ടിൽ നിന്നു കൈക്കുമ്പിളിൽ വെള്ളം കോരി ദാസിന്റെ അടുത്തെത്തി. അപ്പോഴേക്കും കയ്യിലെ വെള്ളം തീർന്നിരുന്നു. നനഞ്ഞ കൈ കൊണ്ട്  മുഖം തുടച്ചു. ദാസ് പതുക്കെ കണ്ണ് തുറന്നു. നേര്യ ശബ്ദത്തിൽ ചോദിച്ചു. ‘രവീ എനിക്കെന്താ പറ്റിയത്. ഞാൻ ഒന്നുമില്ലെന്ന് തലയാട്ടി. വീട്ടിൽ പോയി ആരെയെങ്കിലും വിളിച്ചിട്ട് വരാമെന്നു പറഞ്ഞ് ഞാൻ ദാസിന്റെ വീട്ടിലേക്കോടി.

പശു അപ്പോഴേക്കും അവിടെ എത്തിയിരുന്നു. കഴുത്തിൽ കയറില്ലാതെ പശു വരുന്നത് കണ്ടപ്പോഴേ ദാസിന്റെ അമ്മക്ക് സംശയം തോന്നിയിരുന്നു എന്നെനിക്കു മനസ്സിലായി. എന്താ മോനെ പറ്റിയത്? ദാസനെവിടെ? ഞാൻ പറഞ്ഞ് ദാസ് കയറു കുടുങ്ങി കൊല്ലിതോട്ടിൽ വീണു. എനിക്ക് എണീപ്പിക്കാൻ പറ്റുന്നില്ല. ആരെങ്കിലും വരണം. അത് കേട്ട പാടെ അമ്മ നിലവിളിക്കാൻ തുടങ്ങി. അപ്പോഴേക്കും ദാസിന്റെ ഏട്ടനും അമ്മാവനും വന്നു. ഞാൻ അവരുടെ മുമ്പിൽ സ്ഥലത്തേക്ക് ഓടി. നിലവിളിച്ചു കൊണ്ട് അമ്മയും വന്നു. എല്ലാവരും കൂടി ദാസനെ എടുത്തു വീട്ടിലേക്കു വന്നു. അപ്പോഴേക്കും എന്റെ വീട്ടിൽ നിന്നും എല്ലാവരും എത്തി. എന്നോടെന്തൊക്കെയോ ചോദിച്ചു. ദാസനെ ജീപ്പിൽ കേറ്റി ആശുപത്രിയിൽ കൊണ്ടുപോയി. ഞാൻ പിന്നെ അവിടെ നിന്നില്ല.

കുറച്ചു കഴിഞ്ഞു എന്റെ അമ്മ വന്നു. എന്തെക്കൊയോ ഉച്ചത്തിൽ പറയുന്നുണ്ട്. വന്ന പാടെ എന്നെ തല്ലാൻ തുടങ്ങി. കൈ കൊണ്ടും പിന്നെ വടി കൊണ്ടും അടിച്ചു. ദാസനു എന്തെങ്കിലും പറ്റിയാൽ പിന്നെ നിന്നെ ഈ വീട്ടിൽ കാണാൻ പാടില്ല എന്നൊക്കെ പറഞ്ഞ്. ഞാനല്ല ചെയ്തത് എന്ന് പറഞ്ഞിട്ട് ആരു കേൾക്കാൻ.

ഞാൻ മുറിയിൽ പോയി പായയിൽ കിടന്നു. ശരീരം മൊത്തം വേദന. അമ്മ പറഞ്ഞതൊക്കെ കേട്ടപ്പോൾ മനസ്സ് മരവിച്ച മാതിരി. ഇപ്പൊ ഞാനായി കുറ്റക്കാരൻ. സംഭവ സമയത്തു ഞാൻ മാത്രമേ ഉണ്ടായിരുന്നുള്ളു എന്ന് എല്ലാവരും കരുതി. അതായിരിക്കണം എന്നെ സംശയിക്കാൻ കാരണം. ഇനിയിപ്പോ മറ്റു രണ്ടു പേരും പോയി എന്റെ പേര് പറഞ്ഞ് കാണുമോ? ആരാണ് ചെയ്തതെന്ന് ഞാൻ ആരോടും ഇതുവരെ പറഞ്ഞിട്ടില്ല. ആരാണ് കഴുത്തിൽ കയറിട്ടതെന്നു എനിക്ക് അറിയില്ലായിരുന്നു. എന്തായാലും ഇങ്ങിനെയൊക്കെ ചെയ്തിട്ട് രണ്ടു പേരും ഓടിപ്പോയത് തീരെ ശരിയായില്ല എന്നറിയാം. ദാസിന്റെ ജീവന് എന്തെങ്കിലും പറ്റിയാൽ പിന്നെ ഞാൻ മറ്റുള്ളവരുടെ മുമ്പിൽ ഒരു കൊലപാതകി ആകില്ലേ. ആലോചിക്കുമ്പോൾ തന്നെ പേടിയാകുന്നു. നല്ലോണം വിശക്കുന്നുണ്ട്, ഒന്നും കഴിച്ചിട്ടില്ല. താത്ക്കാലം എല്ലാം സഹിക്കുക തന്നെ. വേറെ എന്താ ചെയ്ക.

കുറെ കഴിഞ്ഞപ്പോൾ അമ്മ വീണ്ടും മുറിയിൽ വന്നു. വീണ്ടും തല്ലാനാണോ! രവീ എണീറ്റു വാ, എന്നിട്ട് എന്തെങ്കിലും കഴിക്ക് എന്ന് പറഞ്ഞു. എനിക്കൊന്നും വേണ്ട എന്ന് ഞാൻ ദ്വേഷ്യത്തോടെ പറഞ്ഞു. അപ്പോഴാ അമ്മ പറഞ്ഞത്, ദാസ് കണ്ണ് തുറന്നു, കുഴപ്പമൊന്നുമില്ല. ആദ്യം ചോദിച്ചത് നിന്നെയാണ്. നിന്നെ കാണണമെന്ന് പറഞ്ഞു. നടന്നതെല്ലാം പറഞ്ഞു. നാളെ രാവിലെ നിന്നെ ആശുപത്രിയിൽ കൊണ്ട് പോകാം എന്ന് കൂടി പറഞ്ഞ് അമ്മ പോയി.

ദൈവം എന്റെ കൂടെയുണ്ടല്ലോ എന്ന് തോന്നി. എന്നാലും എന്തെങ്കിലും കഴിക്കാൻ എന്റെ ദുരഭിമാനം അനുവദിച്ചില്ല. എപ്പോഴോ ഉറങ്ങി പോയി.

രാവിലെ എഴുന്നേറ്റു, പല്ല് തേച്ചു ഭക്ഷണവും കഴിച്ച് ആശുപത്രിയിൽ പോകാൻ തയ്യാറായി. പയ്യന്നൂർ ആശുപത്രിയിലക്ക് ജീപ്പിലാണ് പോയത്. ദാസിനെ കണ്ടു. മുഖത്തും ശരീരത്തിലുമൊക്കെ മുള്ളിന്റെ പോറൽ കാണാം. മുഖത്ത് അല്പം നീര് വച്ചിട്ടുണ്ട്. എന്നെ കണ്ട പാടെ കരയാൻ തുടങ്ങി. എനിക്ക് എന്ത് പറയണമെന്നുമറിയില്ല. ദാസ് പറഞ്ഞു രവീ നീ വന്നില്ലെകിൽ ഞാൻ ഇങ്ങിനെ ഉണ്ടാവ്വോ. നീ അല്ലെ എന്റെ ജീവൻ രക്ഷിച്ചത്. എനിക്ക് പറയണമെന്നുണ്ടായിരുന്നു, അതിനല്ലേ ഇന്നലെ പൊതിരെ തല്ലു കിട്ടിയത്. ഞാൻ ഒന്നും പറഞ്ഞില്ല. മറ്റു സുഹൃത്തുക്കളെ കുറിച്ച് ആരും ഒന്നും ചോദിച്ചുമില്ല, ഞാൻ പറഞ്ഞുമില്ല. അത് അങ്ങിനെ കിടക്കട്ടെ. ദാസിനെ ഡിസ്ചാർജ് ചെയ്തു ഞങ്ങൾ ഒരുമിച്ചാണ് മടങ്ങിയത്. സത്യത്തിൽ ദാസിനു മാത്രമല്ല എനിക്കും ഒരു പുനർജ്ജന്മം കിട്ടിയ പോലെ.

The First Doctor of Kotta

 

The dust rose behind Ravi’s car as it rumbled along the narrow dirt road that wound its way to Kotta, the village of his childhood. Years had passed since he had last returned, and the familiar sights and sounds felt like an old memory that had come to life. The rustling palm trees, the cows tethered by the roadside, and the simple huts with thatched roofs—all reminded him of the place he once called home.

But there was something else about Kotta. It had always remained underdeveloped, much like the day he left it decades ago. And despite his successes, Suresh had long felt that his achievements meant little here.

Ravi was the first from Kotta to secure admission to MBBS, an unprecedented feat for a village that struggled with basic amenities. His family had rejoiced. The villagers, at first, seemed not aware of the importance. May not have time to rejoice in their fight for survival.

And he did. Ravi excelled in his studies, went on to complete his higher education, and was later offered a position as a teacher in the same medical school where he had studied. It felt like a full-circle moment when he eventually became the head of the institution, a place that had nurtured his dreams.

During his tenure, Ravi spearheaded numerous developmental projects—improving the school’s infrastructure, expanding access to medical education, and ensuring that students from rural areas, like his own village, had better opportunities. His work had a lasting impact, and he was proud of what he had accomplished.

But Kotta had not changed. It remained as it was—cut off from the advancements of the world, still grappling with poverty and limited education. Ravi thought often about why the village had not produced another medical student for 40 long years after him. When it finally did, he felt pride, but also a lingering sadness at how slow the progress had been.

Each time he visited Kotta, he noticed a shift. The warmth from the villagers had cooled over the years. He wasn't greeted with open arms anymore. In fact, it seemed like people avoided him. The conversations with his neighbors became shorter, less enthusiastic. In his heart, it hurt. He had hoped his success would inspire the youth, that he would be seen as a beacon of hope for the future.

But the reality was different. Ravi often wondered why his achievements had been ignored, or worse, why he felt avoided in the village. Was it jealousy? Was it the human tendency to ignore those who make them feel small? Or perhaps, Kotta had simply given up on its dreams.

One day, while walking through the village, he overheard two young boys talking about their future.

"I want to be a driver," one said, kicking a pebble as they walked by. "What about you?"

"I don’t know. Maybe a farmer like my father."

Ravi stopped them and asked, "Have you ever thought about being a doctor?"

The boys looked at him, puzzled. "From Kotta? A doctor? No one from here becomes a doctor."

Ravi’s heart sank. It was as though his existence and everything he had done had been erased from the village’s memory. He smiled weakly and walked away, his mind racing with questions. How had his story not made an impact? How had Kotta forgotten?

That evening, as he sat in his childhood home, he came to a realization. He had spent years expecting the village to recognize and celebrate him, but perhaps he had missed something important along the way. Achievements are not always recognized in the way we hope. Sometimes, the seeds we plant do not grow immediately, but lie dormant, waiting for the right moment.

The next morning, Ravi visited the small school in Kottah. He asked the headmaster if he could speak to the students. Standing in front of the children, he told them his story—how he was the first from their village to become a doctor, how it took forty years for another to follow, and how he hoped the next one wouldn’t take as long.

"Your dreams can take you far," he said. "You just need to believe in them, no matter where you come from."

As he left, he wondered if his words would resonate. Perhaps the change he longed for would not happen overnight, but deep in his heart, he hoped that one day, another child from Kotta would walk the halls of a medical school. And maybe then, the village would remember that he had been the first, and that his story, though overlooked, had been the start of something much greater.

That was the legacy he wanted to leave behind—the one that might take years to blossom, but when it did, it would transform Kotta, the place he always believed could be a model village.

And as for why he had been ignored, Ravi no longer needed an answer. It didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that the dream he once held for his village was still alive, even if it was waiting quietly in the hearts of its children.

 

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

 

The Transformation

In the sleepy village of Mathil, Ravi was known as the brightest student at Mathil High School. For five years, from 6th to 10th standard, he topped his class, receiving a prize every year after Christmas for his stellar performance in the half-yearly exams. His two close friends, Balakrishnan and Narayanan, were always by his side—Balakrishnan his academic rival, and Narayanan, the class leader. Together, they were a formidable trio, sharing responsibilities, laughter, and sometimes a friendly competition.

Ravi held a special duty as the Literary Association Secretary: each morning, he had to write the headline news on the classroom blackboard before lessons began. For this, he rushed to Kelu Vaidyar's shop every day, hoping to catch a glimpse of the newspaper before anyone else grabbed it. Sometimes, he had to stand behind an elder, straining to catch a few key headlines, which he would then eagerly scribble on the board.

One morning in July 1969, as Ravi scanned the paper, his eyes widened. "Man Lands on the Moon," the bold letters declared. Neil Armstrong had just made history, becoming the first human to walk on the moon. Excited, Ravi rushed back to school and neatly wrote the headline on the blackboard.

When Madhavan Master, their strict science teacher, entered the classroom, he paused. Usually, he would take attendance and ask the class to read a chapter from their science book. But today, something was different. Instead of sitting, he stood in front of the class, gazing at the blackboard, the news of the moon landing still fresh in his mind.

"Class," he said, his voice full of enthusiasm, "today, we will talk about one of mankind’s greatest achievements—science has made the impossible possible!" For the first time, he spoke passionately about advancements in technology and human achievement. By the end of his talk, he made a promise. "Tomorrow, we’ll do something special in the lab. I’ll show you some exciting chemical reactions."

True to his word, the next day, Madhavan Master guided the class through various experiments. He demonstrated chemical reactions and explained the physics behind them. The class was mesmerized, and even Ravi, who had always been top of the class, found himself newly inspired.

From that day on, the science lessons were never the same. The moon landing had sparked a change, not just in the world, but in their small classroom. And for Ravi, that moment remained etched in his memory—a day when the news on the blackboard brought a world of inspiration to life.

George-My friend

                                                          

ജോർജ് എന്റെ അടുത്ത കൂട്ടുകാരനായിരുന്നു. നാലാംക്‌ളാസിലെ മദ്യവേനലാവധികലത്താണ് ഞാൻ ആദ്യമായി ജോർജിനെ കാണുന്നത്. ആ നാട്ടിൽ ആദ്യമായിട്ടായിരുന്നത് കൊണ്ട് അധികമാരെയും അറിയില്ലായിരുന്നു.

അച്ഛന്റെ നാടായിരുന്നു പെരിന്തട്ട. അമ്മയും ഞങ്ങൾ ആറു മക്കളും പയ്യന്നുറിനടുത്ത കണ്ടങ്കളിയിലായിരുന്നു. അച്ഛന് പെട്ടെന്ന് അസുഖം വന്നത് കൊണ്ട് അമ്മ ഞങ്ങളെയും കൂട്ടി ഇങ്ങോട്ട് പൊന്നു.

ഒരു പറിച്ചുനടലിന്റെ പേടിയും പരിഭ്രമവും ഒക്കെ നല്ലോണം ഉണ്ടായിരുന്നു. ആദ്യമായി പരിചയപ്പെട്ടത് ജോർജിനെ ആയിരുന്നു. പെരിന്തത്ത നോർത്ത് എൽ പി സ്കൂളിൽ നാലാം ക്‌ളാസിലായിരുന്നു. എനിക്ക് സന്തോഷമായി. കാരണം അടുത്തവർഷം അഞ്ചിൽ എന്റെ കൂടെ ജോർജും ഉണ്ടാവുമല്ലോ.

തിരുവിതംകൂർ ഭാഷ അല്പം നര്മം കലർത്തി എല്ലാവരെയും രസിപ്പിക്കാൻ ജോർജിനു കഴിയുമായിരുന്നു. അവധിക്കാലത്തു ജോർജിനു കടലാമുട്ടായി കച്ചവടമായിരുന്നു. അമ്മച്ചി ഉണ്ടാക്കിക്കൊടുത്തുവിടുന്നതാണ്. ഞങളുടെ കൂടെ കളിക്കുമെങ്കിലും ശ്രദ്ധ കൂടുതലും കച്ചവടത്തിൽ തന്നെ. രണ്ടു കശുവണ്ടി കൊടുത്താൽ ഒരു കടലമുട്ടായി തരും.

ജോർജ് ഞങ്ങളെക്കാളും അല്പം തടിച്ചിട്ടായിരുന്നു. അതുകൊണ്ട് തന്നെ ഒരു കമാൻഡ് ഉണ്ടായിരുന്നു എല്ലാവരിലും. പിന്നെ കടലമുട്ടായിയുടെ രുചിയും ഞങ്ങളെ ജോർജിനോട് എളുപ്പം അടുപ്പിച്ചു.

സ്കൂൾ തുറന്നപ്പോ ഞങ്ങളെല്ലാം ഒരേ ക്ലാസ്സിലായിരുന്നു. കുഞ്ഞി രാമന്മാഷേ ഞങ്ങൾക്ക് പേടിയാരുന്നു. കേളു മാഷും ഗോപാലൻ മാഷും ഞങ്ങളെ സ്വാധീനീച്ചോ എന്നറിയില്ല. പുതുതായി വന്ന രാഘവൻ മാഷേ ഞങ്ങൾക്കെല്ലാം ഇഷ്ടമായിരുന്നു.

ഇപ്പം ജോർജിനു കടലമുട്ടായി കച്ചവടമില്ല. അല്ലെങ്കിലും കശുവണ്ടി സീസൺ കഴിഞ്ഞല്ലോ. പഠിക്കാനും ജോർജ് മിടുക്കനായിരുന്നു. ഞാൻ ആ സ്കൂളിൽ പുതുമുഖമായിരുന്നു. അനിയൻ ഒന്നാം ക്ലാസ്സിലും ആ വർഷം ചേർന്നു. ഞങ്ങൾ രണ്ടാളും മാത്രമാണ് പുതുമുഖങ്ങൾ.

വർഷം പെട്ടെന്ന് കഴിഞ്ഞു. അഞ്ചു കഴിഞ്ഞാൽ സ്കൂൾ മാറണം. പെരിന്തട്ടാ അഞ്ചാം ക്ലാസ്സ്‌ വരെയേ ഉള്ളു. ഇനി മാത്തിലോ പെരിങ്ങോതോ പോകണം. പെരിങ്ങോതു ഏഴു വരെയേ ഉള്ളൂ. അതുകൊണ്ട് മാത്തിലാണെന്നെ ചേർത്തത്. മാത്തിൽ പോകണമെങ്കിൽ ദൂരം കുറെയുണ്ട്. രണ്ടു കിലോമീറ്റർ നടക്കണം. പിന്നെ ഒരു ആറു കിലോമീറ്റർ ബസ്സിലും പോണം.

അന്ന് ചെറുപുഴ- പയ്യന്നൂർ റൂട്ടിൽ രണ്ടു ബസ്സ് ആണ്. KLC 683 ഉം KLC 1456. ആദ്യത്തേത് പെട്ടിവണ്ടി. ഏട്ടമുക്കാലിന് ആരവന്ചാൻലിൽ വരും. ഭയങ്കര തിരക്കായിരിക്കും. എന്നാലും എങ്ങിനെയെങ്കിലും കയറിപ്പറ്റണം. രണ്ടാമത്തേത് മെയിൽ വണ്ടിയാണ്. സ്റ്റോപ്പിൽ നിർത്തിക്കിട്ടാൻ പാടാണ്. പെട്ടിവണ്ടി കിട്ടില്ലെങ്കിൽ ഞങ്ങളെല്ലാവരും ആറു കിലോമീറ്റർ കൂടി നടക്കാറാണ് പതിവ്.

ഇതൊക്കെ കൊണ്ടായിരിക്കണം ജോർജിനെയും മറ്റും പെരിങ്ങോത്തെ സ്കൂളിലാണ് ചേർത്തത്. പെരിതട്ടയിൽ നിന്ന് എളുപ്പ വഴിയിൽ നടന്നാൽ മൂന്ന് കിലോമീറ്ററെ പെരിങ്ങോതേക്കുള്ളു. അവധി ദിവസങ്ങളിയിലൊക്കെ ജോർജിനെ കാണും. കളിചിരിയും കൂട്ടുമൊക്കെ ഒരു രസമായിരുന്നു.

ജോർജ് ഒരു ബിസിനസ്‌ കാരനോ അല്ലെങ്കിൽ നല്ലൊരു ടീച്ചറോ ആവും എന്നാ ഞാൻ വിചാരിച്ചതു. പക്ഷെ വിധി വേറെ ഒരു രൂപത്തിലാണ് വന്നത്. എഴിൽ പഠിക്കുമ്പോ ഒരു ദിവസം ആരോ പറഞ്ഞു ജോർജിനെ പാമ്പ് കടിച്ചെന്നു. സന്ധ്യ ആയികാണും. ആരാവഞ്ചൽ നിന്ന് വീട്ടിലേക്കു വരുമ്പോൾ ആണ് വിഷം തീണ്ടിയത്. പിറകെ വന്ന ആരോ കണ്ടതാണ് മരിച്ചു കിടക്കുന്നതു. ശരീരം നീല നിറമായിരുന്നു. കരിമൂര്ഖൻ ആണ് കടിച്ചതെന്നു പറയുന്ന കേട്ടു. ഒന്ന് കാണാൻ പോലും കഴിഞ്ഞില്ല.

അറുപതു വയസ്സിനു ശേഷവും ജോർജിനെ കുറിച്ച് ഒരു നഷ്ടബോധത്തോടെ ഓർത്തെടുക്കാൻ കഴിയുന്നുണ്ട്‌കിൽ ആ ചെറിയ സൗഹൃദം അത്രത്തോളം ദൃഢമായിരുന്നിരിക്കണം. ഒരു പക്ഷെ മാത്തിൽ സ്കുളിൽ ആയിരുന്നു ചേർന്നിരുന്നതെങ്കിൽ അവനിപ്പോഴും നമ്മുടെ കൂടെ ഉണ്ടാവുമായിരുന്നു എന്ന് ചിന്തിക്കാനെ കഴിയൂ.

Kotta: The Model Village

                                                

At age ten, Ravi's life took a sudden turn when he was sent to live with his father in a remote village. This was not just any village; it was a small, hilly settlement, nestled deep in the countryside, where the lush greenery, flowing rivulets, and dramatic canyons created a landscape of untamed beauty. But it was also a place far from the nearest town, with dusty roads, dilapidated houses, and a community struggling to make ends meet. This was Ravi’s adopted village known by the name Perinthatta (Kotta). Kotta reminded the fortes built by erstwhile rulers. Maybe Perinthatta resembled a forte with hills surrounding it.

Ravi's father had suffered a stroke and was confined to his bed, leaving the young boy to navigate this new world largely on his own. The village, with its primitive conditions, was a stark contrast to the more comfortable life Ravi had known. Yet, despite the hardships, he found himself enchanted by the land's raw, untouched beauty. The mountains whispered secrets to him, the streams sang songs of forgotten times, and the wind carried the scent of possibilities.

From the house, Ravi had to climb a steep hill of about 3000 feet height to reach the muddy road stretching from Porakkunnu to Aravanchal, where the road meets the commutable road to reach the nearest town, Payyanur. That was a vast dry land, the plateau of the hillock. No human habitation was possible here at that time due to the scarcity of water and all the villagers were confined to the banks of the Perinthatta river. Walking through the isolated road alone was frightening because of its loneliness and the occasional presence of poisonous snakes and wild animals.

Amid this rural wilderness, Ravi's imagination began to soar. He would spend hours wandering through the hills, crossing the rivulets, and climbing trees, all the while dreaming of a different future for this place. To him, Kotta, his secret name for the village was more than just a collection of rundown houses and struggling families. It was a canvas, waiting to be transformed into a masterpiece.

Ravi's dream was simple yet profound to turn Kotta into a model village, a place where others could learn about sustainable living, community spirit, and harmony with nature. In his mind, he envisioned clean, paved roads lined with flowering trees, modern homes, schools bustling with children eager to learn, and farmers using innovative techniques to cultivate the land. The rivulets would be harnessed to provide water and energy, the forests would be preserved and expanded, and the people of Kotta would thrive, living in unity and prosperity.

He knew it was a lofty dream, especially for a boy of ten, but that didn’t deter him. Ravi believed that with enough determination, anything was possible. He started small, helping his neighbours with chores, learning about farming, and spending time with the elders, listening to their stories and ideas. He shared his vision with anyone who would listen, planting seeds of hope and change in their hearts. His mother was the motivator for him telling old stories, prompting him to dream of big things. She always wanted him to think of big things.

At this age, Ravi can only dream of big things, especially in a village where politics is deeply enrooted with everyone’s life. Whatever subtle changes in the lives of villagers were dictated by local politicians. Decisions on selecting schools, reading newspapers, temple festivals, etc are all decided by the local leaders. As he grew up Ravi thought that the fate of Kotta was unchangeable unless he could convince at least a few of the leaders in the neighbourhood.

As the years went by, Ravi's bond with Kotta deepened. He grew up, but his dream never wavered. The challenges were many, lack of resources, resistance to change, and the ever-present struggles of rural life. Yet, Ravi persisted, driven by the same wild imagination that had once seen a future of endless possibilities in the hills and valleys of his father’s village. To make a visible change the villagers must realize his dream. This is possible only when villagers start dreaming. To inspire his villagers to dream big and create lasting changes in their lives, Ravi had to plan a combination of practical strategies to empower them. This can be accomplished with basic education to enhance literacy, which opens up new avenues for knowledge and opportunities through unconventional teaching. Try to educate villagers on various topics such as health, hygiene, financial literacy, and rights, which can empower them to take control of their lives.

The model village concept was agreed upon by a few. Thinking of a big change even if remote is tempting to some. The next issue is raising funds for the project. It was clear that villagers could not financially support even a small project. When Ravi got a few like-minded elders to support him, suggestions were put up. That is how the decision on land pooling came up. Land pooling is a method where landowners voluntarily come together to pool their land for a coordinated development project. Instead of acquiring land through direct purchase, land pooling offers a more collaborative approach.

Many villagers owned pieces of land in the vast terrain on the hilltop. This was largely unused except for procuring dry grass for the roofing of huts and as cattle feed. Villagers didn’t get any income. They agreed to pool under a common banner so that land would be developed and income generated would be shared. Kotta Village Developmental Society was created as an umbrella organization to oversee these changes. One member from each household was enrolled as a member. Those who provide land for pooling will be a shareholder who will get a share of profit. Others are ordinary members who can contribute at any point in time. All were involved in decision-making.

The pooled land was reconstituted and reorganized as per the development project. The land is usually divided into plots, with a portion allocated for public infrastructure (roads, parks, etc.) and the remaining used for sustainable cultivation. This encouraged community involvement in the developmental process. The next big issue here is the availability of water for cultivation. This area gets good rains during monsoon and Ravi has seen pools of water in some places. Without much financial obligation, ditches were created at certain locations to hold rainwater. With this water source, one acre of land was converted into a plant nursery. Flowering plants and fruit plants were collected from villagers and displayed. The grafting technique was adopted to make more varieties. Within a year, that area was filled with flowers and plants which attracted people from outside. Villagers spent a few hours on rotation to maintain the garden. School children were motivated to come for service on weekends which enabled them to learn community participation.

Once the project appeared colourful and profitable, villagers were encouraged. Funding came from different sources and more land was used for cultivation of mango trees, jackfruit trees, and cashew plants. Value-added products were made from the fruits. A four-lane road was built from Aravanchal to Kotta Village with median and solar lights. A guest house and cafeteria started for the visiting guests. School with smart classrooms and playgrounds was built in the village.  Community meetings were planned in which villagers could discuss and visualize the future they want for their village. This collective visioning can foster a sense of unity and shared purpose. Villagers were engaged in projects like building infrastructure, improving agriculture, or creating community spaces. Community living and improvement in social activities attracted many similar communities to visit, study, and implement this project in their locality.

Now, at the age of seventy, Ravi stands at the edge of Kotta, looking out at the land he has loved all his life. The village is still small, still humble, but it has changed in ways that the ten-year-old Ravi could never have fully imagined. It is not yet the model village he once dreamed of, but it is a place where people live with a sense of purpose and hope. The roads are better, the houses stronger, the fields more productive, and the community more united. By implementing these strategies, villagers can gradually shift their mindset from mere survival to thriving, fostering a culture of ambition and long-term change.

Ravi smiles as he walks down the familiar paths, remembering the boy who had once seen a different future in the same hills. Kotta, in its own way, is a model village, not because it is perfect, but because it embodies the spirit of resilience and the power of a dream nurtured over a lifetime. And in that, Ravi finds a sense of fulfillment, knowing that his dream, though still unfolding, has already touched the lives of many.