A Young Intellectual with a mission

Granduncle Mathootty was an unconventional character.  A widely read man, a truly liberal-minded and erudite person of his generation and a popular figure among the young and old of his days, this colourful man led an essentially happy life. While his four brothers were industrious and entrepreneurial in the worldly sense and pursued after wealth creation, he preferred such profitless preoccupations as idle research and scholarship. However, his ‘late’ marriage at the age of 20 with a rich heiress had made him the richest among his brothers and left him free with his scholarly pursuits.

Mathootty’s wife Thresiamma had no resentment about his virtual indifference to wealth. As a matter of fact she liked him the way he was. It was thus that she met him first before their marriage. At first sight itself she was drawn to his scholarly personality and persuasive articulation and his unique, baritone voice.  After their marriage it was she who looked after their estate; and she did it with efficiency and style. Among their relatives and family friends she soon acquired the reputation as a most efficient and practical woman. She made up for what her husband lacked, and they complemented each other in a most ideal sense. And theirs was a happy family.

Mathootty was also known for his moral rectitude and ethical uprightness. Only on one occasion in his adolescence had he experienced an aberration as regards morals; but that was not his fault primarily and it had occurred before his marriage. And this was a secret known only to his closest friend and confidante Shyamal Prabhu.

I. The turning point in his life

At school Mathootty was the most outstanding student in his class in every department of the academics, in proficiency in English language and Mathematics, in general knowledge and in oration. His ambition after matriculation was to pursue higher studies in English literature at one of the elite colleges in India, preferably the Presidency College in Madras. But he could not realize the ambition for reasons beyond him. Religious politics came in the way. His new Bishop, a man of Spanish origin, had adopted a dissuasive policy in regard to English education of his flock, lest it lead them to Anglicanism! Mathootty’s father heeded to the Bishop’s advice and that put an end to his dreams. Obviously in the fast evolving socio-political-cultural values of the times, the old man could not foresee the importance of his son’s higher studies. Mathootty’s classmates were mostly from affluent circumstances and most of them joined reputed colleges of those days in various parts of India and eventually came to adorn high places in the British Raj.

Mathootty could not reconcile himself with this unjust fate imposed on him, and so his scholastic energies found expression in other ways. With the help of his favourite teachers at his former school, who were generous enough to open their private libraries to him, he soon acquired scholarly knowledge in history, geography and philosophy.  By the age of 18 he was closely familiar with European history, ancient Greek and Roman history, epics and mythologies, thoughts of ancient, medieval and modern philosophers, ancient and modern literature in English, French, German and Russian languages and in subjects that would please the minds of any thinker of those days. With his booming, affectionate voice that resonated with his erudition and confidence, he came to be known as a wonderful narrator, communicator and conversationalist. At home he would regale his parents and his siblings with comedies from Shakespeare retold in his inimitable vernacular. On Sundays his uncles and their families would assemble at his residence that was their ancestral home and central place for their regular get-together. That became a forum for him to give lectures on Greek and Roman heroes, about their oratorical skills as exemplified through great orators such as Demosthenes and Cicero, tragedies of Sophocles and on a wide variety of subjects including mythologies. And on the day he told them the story of King Lear, his father became emotional. Eventually he realized his mistake in preventing his son from realizing his pet ambition to study English literature in Madras.

The ‘idle’ young man Mathootty thus became the most popular member of the family, liked and respected by all in the extended family. His uncle Lonan, particularly, regarded him as his friend and companion. Lonan was an ayurvedic physician and a scholar in Sanskrit. He had many friends in his profession and he would take Mathootty with him whenever he visited them on social occasions and for professional reasons.

With the fervent curiosity of an amateur historian he sought to know from Uncle Lonan about the background of their own family, about their forefathers. Lonan could name his ancestors up to the fourth generation above him but not beyond. Mathootty thought it a shame that his generation could not celebrate the memory of their ancestors beyond that. In comparison, the British maintained detailed records of their ancestors for generations. For instance, his English teacher Robert Gray had a personal copy of the Bible with him with many blank pages in it for systematically recording details of one’s ancestors. And he had in it details of his ancestors up to fifteen generations above him! The dates of their birth, marriage and death were routinely given. In addition the names and families of their wives too were recorded in some cases. The poet Thomas Gray was a cousin and contemporary of his great-grandfather’s grandfather, i.e., his ancestor of the fifth generation.

Uncle Lonan suggested that a planned research, if diligently made, might unveil the names of their forefathers. He suggested two kinds of records to be examined. One was the baptism registers maintained in the respective parish churches, and the other the palm leaf records maintained by some of the aristocratic families of those days. Of these two, the family records would be the most difficult to get. Because, the old leaves would have become fragile with the passage of time and poor maintenance in almost all cases. Also, normally the original records would be kept at the main family line after the separation of filial families. And, mostly out of inertia, the originals were seldom copied for the benefit of the separated families.

Mathootty’s eyes sparkled. He saw the search for his ancestors as the mission, difficult though, he would undertake with priority. He began dreaming.

II. Mathootty’s first meeting with his future wife

Uncle Lonan promised him full support. He took him to his father-in-law Ouso Mappila, who had some idea about good many aristocratic families in the area. The journey took over two hours by boat. They were greeted first by Lonan’s brother-in-law Anthony called Anthappan, followed by the old man Ouso Mappila and his wife. Clutching on to the apron strings of the old lady came in a fourteen-year-old girl, whom Lonan fondly called Thresi Mol. Her father Anthappan called her Thresiamma.

Thresiamma ran in to hide in the ante-room the moment Uncle Lonan teased her by calling her an ‘old’ spinster. In those days girls would marry from the age of 11 upwards, and 14 was considered ‘prime time’ for their marriage. Likewise, boys married while in the age group of 15 to 18. So it was ‘prime time’ for Mathootty too to get married. Most of his classmates were already married while continuing with their studies. But he was not mentally prepared for a marriage at that time. He had other ambitions in his mind. He didn’t welcome any distraction.

And Lonan explained to his father-in-law about the nature of the young man’s current passion. Ouso Mappila was immensely pleased about the young man’s magnificent obsession. And he began with the limited genealogy of his own family. He could recount the names of his ancestors up to the eighth generation above him. And he said he had documentary evidence to support. He took his guests upstairs to the attic, opened his treasure of well-maintained palm leaf records and carefully unrolled them for Mathootty to read. With great difficulty he managed to read those ancient Malayalam script carved on to the leaves with special needle pens.

“Was not there paper available in those days, Uncle?” Mathootty inquired.

“Yes, surely. But people still preferred to record family secrets on specially treated leaves like these”, Ouso Mappila explained. “The documents get an antique look.”

“So this is your ancestor of the eighth level, i.e., great grandfather’s great grandfather’s grandfather. His name was Chinna Thampi? It is written, he was born in Kolla Varsham (Malayalam era) 812. It must be about AD 1636? Wasn’t it?”

With an admiring look on his face Ouso Mappila readily accepted the young man’s quick computation. “Your boy is quite smart, Lonan”, he whispered into the ears of his son-in-law.

Ouso Mappila responded, “Yes. And you’d be further fascinated when you know that he was born exactly 200 years before me, the average age of a generation between us thus coming to 25 years.”

Mathootty speculated that no other family on the Malabar Coast would have such recorded antiquity.

“No! No! No! Several families there are with much longer recorded history. I haven’t personally examined any of their records, but I have no reason to distrust their claims”, said Ouso Mappila.

They had lunch together, and the old man went on talking as if he had been companionless for long and was now looking for someone to talk with. And the conversation was mainly between him and the young Mathootty, the others taking on the role of spectators.

While they were having lunch he noticed someone closely watching him from behind the door, and it didn’t take time for him to guess her identity. After all, she was at the prime of her marriageable age. Mathootty chuckled unto himself, “But I am not the man for you smart girl! I am just a pilgrim on an intellectual pursuit. You may look for some worldly man.”

III. A vintage photograph kindles Mathootty’s curiosity

 After the lunch, Ouso Mappila took them back to the attic and opened his treasure trove once again. He reverentially took out a photograph from there and presented it before Mathootty. The picture showed a middle-aged couple seated in the first row with a kid each on their lap. Behind them were a young couple. The young man was wearing western suit with a bow tie. The other three were in local costume, all in white. There was a pedigreed dog sitting on the small carpet in front of the senior couple. Lonan who had seen the photo several times in the past had a knowing grin on his face. Mathootty could not guess the identity of any one of them. Ouso Mappila explained that the photograph was taken by an official photographer of the Madras Presidency way back in 1860 and that the elderly couple were his parents. He said the young man in suit was himself, and turned to Mathootty to watch his reaction. Mathootty’s exclamation was loud and appreciative. “The young kids were my children Anthappan and Kunjamma. Anthappan was three years old, and Kunjamma just a year.” Vow!!

Ouso Mappila was on a roll. He said photography had made an entry into India a few years before. And the profession remained in the hands of a few Britons officially attached to the Presidencies. The duty assigned to them was to take photographs of archaeological sites and places of interest in India and send them to England. One such photographer had come down from Madras to take pictures of British Cochin. Taking advantage of his visit, the Raja of Cochin and a few noblemen of the area invited him to take photos of their families too. “It was thus, Mathootty, that this photo was taken.”

“The Englishman must have been impressed with my physique and took out his jacket and put it on me. Noticing that it suited me well, he pulled out his bow tie and fitted that too onto me. And now you know the secret of my western dress in the photograph!”

Mathootty’s curiosity rose to new heights. “If he took photos of other families too, you might be familiar with some of them. In that case, would it be possible for me to have a look at their photos too?”

Ouso’s response was enthusiastic, “Yes, there is one Kaimal family I am friendly with. They have two separate photographs taken on that occasion. Your uncle Lonan has seen them. We shall visit them sometime next week. Why not come here next Sunday? We shall go to Kaimal’s the next day?”

Mathootty eagerly accepted the invitation. Lonan excused himself for personal reasons.

IV. Mathootty makes a big leap forward in his mission

On their journey back Uncle Lonan complimented Mathootty for the huge impression he had made on the old man. He in turn expressed his surprise at the unusually small size of Ouso Mappila’s family.

Uncle Lonan said, “Yes, theirs is a small family. He has only two children – Anthappan and my wife Kunjamma. And Anthappan has but one child, namely Thresiamma. She would inherit the family’s wealth. And the one who would marry her could count himself lucky.”

He continued, “Mathootty, let me take the liberty of suggesting, why not you be that lucky one? Her parents and grandparents would be only happy to arrange your marriage, especially with my backing. Didn’t you notice how satisfied and happy they were with you?”

Mathootty calmly responded, “Uncle, you know I am not ready yet.”

Next Sunday he proceeded to Ouso Mappila’s house. He was received by all the five of them, the young Thresiamma including. They had a hearty evening together.

Monday morning they proceeded to Kaimal’s house. On the way Ouso Mappila narrated how he came into contact with the Kaimals. The British photographer returned to Madras on completion of his official duty and after taking photographs of those half dozen families who had invited him. He would do the processing at his studio in Madras and send the finished photographs to his customers by post. In about a fortnight they received the prints sent in an envelope addressed to Ouso’s father.

Ouso Mappila said, “And we were surprised to see in it a couple of photographs meant for some other family too. At that time we were unable to identify that family.  In another two weeks we received a letter from the Englishman apologizing for the mistake and seeking our good offices to arrange to send them over to one Kaimal whose address was given. We had heard about the Kaimals but never had the occasion to see them face to face….

“The photographs showed them as a cultured family in very rich circumstances.  One of the photographs presented a panoramic picture of their palatial house. In it was seen a young girl of seven or eight in a white English frock with a silken hat and matching shoes leaning against a pillar in the verandah and playing violin, a rare western instrument then! At the far end of the house were seen some five or six women in full white dress huddled together and staring at the camera with frightened eyes. The girl and the women offered a contrast. The girl was composed and was playing the instrument naturally unmindful of the Englishman taking the shot, while the women appeared very scared….

“I was impressed. I volunteered to personally visit the Kaimals to hand over the photos to them. My Appan agreed, albeit reluctantly….

“When they realized that I had come personally to deliver the photographs, the Karanavar (the chief) of the family apologized for the inconvenience caused to me by the mix-up. Their hospitality was warm and I was introduced to several male members of that joint family. We had lunch together. As you’d guess, I made a discreet inquiry about the young girl in the photograph. The old man said that after her vacation she had returned to her school at Lovedale, near Ootty. It was a new school then known as the Lawrence Asylum.”

Mathootty interrupted the flow of Ouso Mappila’s thoughts, “But, Uncle, that school, I hear, was set up for the children of British soldiers and their officers. So, how come the rich, aristocratic Kaimal’s daughter could join that school?”

Ouso was puzzled, “I have no idea of that, Mathootty. Kaimals served the local Raja, and were unlikely candidates for serving in the British army. But she was a student there as clearly mentioned by the Karanavar….

“The old man and the younger members of the family were so pleased that when I said bye in the evening, they offered me a standing invitation to visit them. I was deeply impressed….

“Next week we had two young, handsome visitors from the Kaimals with gifts. My Appan was immensely pleased with my skills in diplomacy. After that we had received several invitations from them on special occasions like marriages. But we could not reciprocate in kind because there have been no marriages in our small family for years….

“That was some 37 years ago. Now the old Karanavar is no more; his immediate successor too is gone. The present Karanavar is one of the two youngsters who visited us with presents to reciprocate our delivery of their photographs. So, I can say, he is a friend, a contemporary of mine. We have met on several occasions after that visit.”

We arrived at the Kaimal house. Raman Kaimal immediately plunged into a hearty conversation with Ouso Mappila. When Mathootty was introduced to him, he said he was not surprised to hear that the young man was a matriculate who could fluently speak English. He was an astrologer who could place a person by face-reading. He immediately disappeared into the house and returned with a motherly person with bobbed hair dressed in colourful North Indian saree who looked around 45.  Kaimal introduced her to Ouso Mappila as the young girl who was seen playing violin in the photograph  taken by the English cameraman way back in the year 1036 (AD 1860). To her offered hand, Ouso Mappila responded with a namasthe. Mathootty shook hands with her.

As suggested by Kaimal, his ‘learned niece’ Savithri took Mathootty to her apartments where they could have some peaceful time conversing in English. On hearing about Mathootty’s studious background, she suggested further studies for him at Calcutta. Her husband Mukherjee was a teacher at the Presidency College there. Her youngest son was of Mathootty’s age, and he was a student at the same college. She added for his information that the College was the first modern college in India, set up as early as in 1817 by the famous reformer Raja Ram Mohan Roy in collaboration with a few like-minded aristocratic and progressive people of Bengal, and it was then named the Hindu College. And now it was the best college in India and students from all over India were flocking to it for higher studies.

Her description was alluring, but Mathootty was in a bind. She felt sad on hearing of the religious sanction that held up his further education. She added that some conservative caste Hindus in Bengal were opposed to their children pursuing modern education, but it was astonishing that a Christian Bishop on the Malabar Coast was frowning upon English education!

Noticing his conversational skills and his endearing voice, she invited Mathootty out to sit on the parapet surrounding the mango tree in the courtyard and called the children around to join them. Some of them came forward, some others shied away, and some came with their mothers in tow. Mathootty narrated to them the story of the Merchant of Venice. The children, and their mothers, were enthralled. Madame Mukherjee threw an appreciative glance at him. Hearing the noise created by the children’s laughter, the Karanavar came out of his parlor in the company of Ouso Mappila. They joined the children to listen to his next story. And he launched into the wonderful story of Allaudin and his Magic Lamp. The crowd grew larger and their wonder found expression through their alternating silence and bubbly laughter.

After lunch and a brief rest the four of them sat together and got into the business of the guests. Raman Kaimal was pleased to hear that the young man was in search of his roots. When Mathootty mentioned his family name, it rang a bell in Kaimal’s memory. He said he had read about a prominent member of the Varier family having embraced Christianity in his adult life and given birth to his new line. The name he adopted for his new family was identical with Mathootty’s family name. Could they be the same? Kaimal was lost in thought. He said, for several generations since the conversion, his descendants maintained social connections with the parent family in spite of the conversion, and that was noteworthy because it was not a conventional thing. It was normal for a convert to be thrown out of the house, out of the family, like a charred splinter. As good riddance of bad rubbish.

Kaimal said thoughtfully, “Ouso Mappila, let me make a quick search through our palm leaf records. If I recall correctly, the converted family continued to be in touch with the Varier family for a few generations. And several episodes about them are found in the records. We ourselves are closely connected with the Variers. My mother herself was a Varier as you know. It was through my uncle, her brother, I had come to get this information. But, first let me make myself be sure about it. You may have to wait. Would it be all right if I may suggest your stay with us overnight so that I could get the basic information in the meantime? Will that be too much for me to suggest?”

Ouso Mappila appreciated the sincerity and enthusiasm of Kaimal. However, he excused himself, as his family would be anxious if he didn’t return by evening. “But Mathootty can choose. He has the advantage of being a bachelor.”

And Mathootty stayed there overnight.

V. The gift of the Kaimals

By supper time the tired old man came down with bleary eyes. He had spent the whole evening minutely searching for the leaf in which the conversion of Narayanan was recorded. By dusk he had to light oil lamps for reading the leaves. And he had to go through many a leaf before identifying the right one. He added that there were a few other leaves too related to the subject in the custody of the Varier family. The one he had identified was a copy of the original he saw years before at his mother’s house. And he suggested a visit by the young man to the mainline Varier family.

After a quick bath he joined the assembled group for dinner. There were some twenty male members of the family for the meals, most of them much older than Mathootty. Raman Kaimal explained that normally they would have meals separately with their respective families, but on special occasions they would have their meals together.

That night Mathootty slept in the guest room upstairs. He was exulting over his good fortune of having received a valuable piece of information from Kaimal that might prove to be a break-through in the long journey ahead for him in his mission. He was also aware of the possibility that it could as well lead to disappointment. Yet, in him optimism prevailed. In his mind he profusely thanked Uncle Lonan, Ouso Mappila and Raman Kaimal. And he had a fine sleep.

The next morning he had breakfast with the Karanavar and Madame Mukherjee.

When he was about to leave, the old man affectionately handed to him a letter addressed to his cousin Neelakantan Varier and ceremonially blessed him. Madame Mukherjee and some of the boys accompanied him up to the family jetty. He got into the boat that Raman Kaimal had arranged for him.

Ouso Mappila was eagerly waiting for him to know if Kaimal could give some useful information about the family’s lineage. He was happy to hear that he had received some workable clue. But Mathootty had miles to go before a credible genealogy was constructed.

He had lunch with Ouso Mappila’s family. It was as if Mathootty had already become a member of their household. The young man noticed that Ouso Mappila’s granddaughter Thresiamma’s eyes were continually on him, and that caused him some minor discomfort. Soon after lunch he left for home.

VI. Church records being examined

                              

Uncle Lonan was extremely happy about Mathootty’s successful visit to the Kaimal family and complimented him for his diplomatic skills. He was pleasantly surprised that Raman Kaimal had invited him to stay overnight at their main residential building. That was not customary. Caste Hindus would normally accommodate their guests, especially youngsters, at their outbuildings. So, in Lonan’s view it was a rare honour done to Mathootty.

Lonan volunteered to accompany him to visit Neelakantan Varier. The journey would take some four hours each way. So he must wait for a week. “In the meantime, Mathootty, you could check the Church records.”

Matthootty had nearly forgotten about the relevance of the baptism register for his purpose. He said, “Yes, I’ll see the Parish Priest today itself.”

“But I suggest meeting the Sacristan. After all, it is he who is in charge of the records. Besides, you know, the PP is too stern a fellow, and he could be unpredictably stubborn. He may subject you to a catechism of unnecessary questions and discourage you from your mission. Should you take that risk? Whether you can charm him the way you did Kaimal is very doubtful. The other day your Appan personally called on the Bishop and he promptly discouraged him from sending you for higher studies in English. Never forget that! So my suggestion is to begin with the Sacristan Pylee. He could be encouraged with some little bribe too. I won’t consider that unethical, because you are paying him for his extra services.”

Mathootty said, “I agree with you, Uncle. I’ll begin with the Sacristan. But I may meet the PP as well. We may need his support some time or other. Besides, I have to make up for the past misunderstanding too.”

Lonan, “What was that past misunderstanding, Mathootty?”

Mathootty had the impression that Uncle was aware of how the PP had thwarted his childhood ambition to serve as an altar boy. But, no, Uncle Lonan couldn’t recollect any such incident.

The young man recalled that exactly eight years before, when he was ten, he was selected along with a few other boys for serving at the altar. The boys were given a pocket-sized booklet containing the Latin liturgy written in vernacular letters. They were required to learn the contents by heart. Mathootty didn’t have any difficulty in accomplishing this memorizing exercise; yet he was eager to know the meaning of those words and phrases. So he, and he alone among the boys, approached the PP for guidance. The Priest was much amused and pleased that at least one young fellow in his Parish had expressed the interest in knowing the meaning of the prayers offered in the Eucharist. 

Fr Mulloor launched into a sermon. He began, “The purpose of man’s creation is that he may know Him, love Him and serve Him. Look at the intelligent sequence here. Know, love and serve. Without knowing, you can’t truly love. Without sincerely loving you can’t serve. Love without knowledge is not love in its full sense. Serving without true love is drudgery and not service. So, Mathootty, you are doing the right thing by wanting to know before serving on the altar of God. I am gratified, my boy. God may be expecting much from you….”

Lonan was wonderstruck, “Did he say that? I can’t believe! He must have been in one of his best moods!”

“I too was pleasantly surprised, Uncle. He immediately began explaining the first few lines of the liturgy….

In nómine Patris, et Fílii, et Spíritus Sancti. Amen.

(In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.)

Introibo ad altare Dei

(I will go unto the altar of God)

Ad Deum qui laetificat jeventutem meam

(To God, who gives joy to my youth)

“I asked for a word-by-word translation and elucidation. It seemed he didn’t expect me to make him go deeper into the subject, yet he obliged me. Then he asked me to approach him another day….

“Another day came, and we made some progress. But he was less enthusiastic this time. Third day he was in an irritable mood. When it came to Confiteor, he exploded, ‘How is it that you alone among the boys insist on knowing the deeper meaning of the sacred scripture? I can see the proud showman Lucifer prodding you from within….’

“I told him I’d be cheating God by mumbling the Latin phrases without understanding them. He straightaway asked me to get lost. That was the end of my path to the altar.

“So, I want to make up with him now, because I might need him later in my current project.”

“OK, boy, go ahead. All the best.”

The Sacristan persuaded to check the Baptism Register

Mathootty met Sacristan Pylee at his residence. Knowing that flattery was one of his weaknesses, he lavishly praised this self-important man for the most important role he was playing in the life of the parishioners. Then he slowly presented his case. He said he knew the names of his ancestors up to the level of his great grandfather’s grandfather. His name was Thomman Lonan. “I understand that he was one of the signatories to a petition submitted to the British Resident, Colonel Drummond, in Kolla Varsham 979 (AD 1803). The petition must be available in the State Archives now.”

“Vow! That means he was born sometime during 1740-70! I need to check the old records even for confirming the names of the ancestors up to the level mentioned by you. Of course our parish was set up long before that, but whether the records are intact I am not sure. You see, the need for checking those books does not arise unless some crazy guys like you come up in search of their ancestors who had long become dust unto dust in their graves. As a matter of fact, you are the only one who has come to me now asking me to dig them up from their graves, so to say!”

Mathootty placed before him a small pouch containing some decent amount and said, “Uncle, kindly receive this guru dakshina (customary honorarium for the Teacher).”

‘Reluctantly’ did Pylee accept the dakshina, and said with enthusiasm, “OK. Come to me a few days later. Meanwhile let me try to retrieve those dusty records.”

 A few days later, the Sacristan triumphantly announced having successfully identified Mathootty’s ancestors up to the seventh level! No records were available beyond that. He went on dramatizing the efforts he had to make in filtering through the available records and pinpointing the ancestors. And the amount of dust he must have inhaled in that process! The pages in the older records had become progressively yellower and rusted, the sheets themselves having become brittle to the touch.

“The ancestor at the seventh level was named Varied, born in AD1689. It was a marvel that those successive generations lived in the same Parish. It was also possible that good many branches had emigrated, leaving the mainline family to which Mathootty belonged in the ancestral village.

“By the way, your ancestor of the fifth order was one Thomman Lonan. He was born in 1743.

“And, as you know, our Parish was set up in the year 1527. Hence the baptism records, if we had all of them, would have traced your ancestry up to that time.”

Mathootty met the Parish Priest Fr. Mulloor with the intent to revive his relationship with him. The Priest complimented him for obediently following the Bishop’s advice against continuing his English education! Mathootty responded with a knowing smile and incidentally mentioned about his new project for which he had collected some details from the baptism register. The PP volunteered to sign the certificate if need be. Mathootty replied he would approach the Priest at the right time. However, the reverend Father said, “Any time is the right time; there is no righter time.” And he grabbed the paper from his hands and straightaway signed it without bothering to verify the contents!

Thus the relationship got mended. Uncle Lonan didn’t have enough words to praise his favourite nephew. He got more than what he had expected. His father Thomman and the whole family group lost all doubts, if they had any, about Mathootty’s efficiency and charisma in managing relationships.

VII. Visit to the Varier Family

They started early morning. The journey to Neelakantan Varier’s house took about four hours – three hours by boat and an hour on foot.

The premises had the appearance of a campus. There were several separate houses in the area. At the entrance of the main house the air was filled with the aroma of medicinal herbs. Patients waited there for a darshan of (interview opportunity with) the chief vaidyar (physician) Neelakantan Varier. Lonan straightaway approached him and ceremonially handed Raman Kaimal’s letter to him. Noticing the letter was from his cousin, the vaidyar immediately read it. He looked at Mathootty to confirm that he was the young man referred to in the letter. A glint of appreciation flashed in his eyes. He then invited them to be at the Guest House nearby. An attendant led them there. In a few minutes, Neelakantan Varier joined them.

Varier gathered from them the circumstances in which Mathootty paid a visit to the Kaimal family. When he heard it was all because of the photograph of a cute little girl, he joked that the girl had been born too early even for the senior of the two, namely, Lonan. What a pity, young man!

Mathootty thought that the old man Varier was trivializing the issue. His motivation had stemmed from the antiquity of the picture and the high cultural standing of the family as manifested by the composed girl in western costume playing a modern musical instrument contrasting with the scared women in the picture. But he kept his own counsel.

Varier went into the antiquity of his family and its aurvedic traditions. When he learned Lonan was a practicing physician, he began chanting a few slokas (stanzas) from the Sanskrit treatise on aurveda written by ancient acharya (guru) Charaka. Lonan interpreted them effortlessly and correctly. Neelakantan Varier was convinced he was dealing with his match although the man was much younger than himself.

Then they heard the distant strains of someone chanting some Sanskrit sloka, closely followed by chanting the same stanza by a few youngsters in unison. Obviously someone was teaching the children. Noticing him pricking up his ears, Varier told Mathootty that the chanting came from the in-house Padhasala (school): the Vadhyar (teacher) was teaching Kalidasa’s great poem Kumara-sambhavam. Mathootty politely observed that the Vadhyar was pronouncing the words wrongly. Varier asked him to explain. And he explained:

“The opening stanza of the poem is about the great Himalayas in the North. It begins thus:

Asthi uththarasyam disi devathatma

Himalayo nama nagadhiraja

But your Vadhyar makes it sound like Athi utharasyam disi, the ‘s’ missing from the initial term Asthi”.

Neelakantan Varier intently listened. “Yes, I too notice the error”, was his crisp response. The Vadhyar was summoned, and he was given an admonition. After he left, Varier turned to Mathootty, “You must have noticed that I didn’t drag in your name while giving him a piece of my mind. I didn’t want him to bear any grudge against you.”

“That was so thoughtful of you, Sir.”

Needless to say, Neelakantan Varier was impressed with his young guest.

The family’s antiquity

When Mathootty elaborated to him the purpose of the visit, Varier made a big laughter as if he heard a big joke. “Of course I can understand your curiosity after you heard from my cousin that one of my ancestors turned to Christianity and adopted a new family name and that your family happens to carry the same name. So it is possible that you had descended from that converted Varier. It is equally likely that the similarity in the family name was just accidental….”

Mathootty warmly smiled and said, “Sir, we have come prepared for that possibility as well. However, when the venerable Raman Kaimal made the suggestion that we seek your learned views in the matter, we could not resist the temptation. So we came here.”

Neelakantan Varier felt flattered.

He began, “This conversion took place generations ago. As a matter of fact we in the family had forgotten all about it. During one of his summer vacations with us, Raman Kaimal happened to see our well-maintained library of records and, being an antiquity-buff, he plunged into the library and spent days there. And it was he who accidentally noticed from a leaf about the religious conversion story of one Narayanan Varier. It happened in KV 720 (AD 1544) under a Portuguese Padre named Pranchisco Savariar (Francis Xavier). This Narayanan Varier was about 35 years old then. Also it seemed that Narayanan Variers’ progeny continued to be in touch with our parental family for a few generations under their Hindu/Christian names prefixed with their new subfamily name. Kaimal didn’t share with us what he might have discovered about that subfamily’s later generations. Nor has any one of us taken any interest in the matter. So, the things stand there. Are you satisfied with this information, young man?”

Mathootty ventured to say, “Sir, it was gracious of you to have entertained us for so long, leaving your patients in the hands of you assistants. So, we know it would be too much for us to seek more of your time on this. Yet we would have preferred to have a look at the records with the help of some other members of your family familiar with the library. Would that be too much to ask of you now, Sir?” 

Varier, “Well, when Raman Kaimal went through the library some forty-five years ago when he was 16, there was one Siddharthan from our dependent family to assist him. He is the one who is still in charge of our library. I shall get his services for you. He is around 60 now, my age. Not in the very best of health. Yet he might be able to help you. But it could take time, perhaps days, to complete the work to your satisfaction. You may have to stay with us as our guests. Are you game for that?”

Lonan responded, “Mathootty is a free man. A bachelor. He can stay. I shall stay for a day. Tomorrow certainly I’d have to be back home.”

Varier, “Oh! You are a bachelor? At the age of 20? Too bad!”

Mathootty replied, “No, Sir, I am 18 now. And I am not thinking of marriage at the moment.”

The naughty old man laughed, “Then don’t get into temptations. There are beautiful girls around here. Don’t cast your covetous eyes on them. They are not meant for you Nazranis (Christians)! Understand?”

Lonan and Mathootty thought the old man still young. Too roguishly young for his years!

Mathootty examines the records

The old man Siddharthan arrived by lunch time. The three of them had lunch together, while Neelakantan Varier was busy with his patients. Siddharthan said there were four classified groups of records in the library. One was about the family; another about the historical events of the period; the third about successive vaidyars’ experiences in the medical field; and the fourth on miscellaneous matters. Lonan’s curiosity was instantly aroused at the mention of medical records. He asked for details. Siddharthan mentioned as an instance the case of the famous poet Melpathur Narayanan Bhattathiri. He was miraculously cured while doing bhajana (continual vigil and prayer) at the Guruvayoor Temple. His was suffering from a mysterious kind of paralysis. This was around KV 763 (AD 1587).

“Our family chief at that time was Vasudevan Varier He had examined the Bhattathiri before and after the cure. Details have been carefully recorded in a bunch of palm leaves. His uncle, the converted Narayanan Varier, too had witnessed the miracle as per our records.

“Another was the case of a couple, childless for four years. Our ancestor had treated the couple, and soon they had as many as twenty children, born one by one, not in twins or triplets. Then there is the recorded case of a Nazrani couple at Mattancherry who had twenty-five children, all naturally born. There are several other special cases too, all neatly recorded.”

Lonan could not help wondering at the wealth of information the Variers had in their archives. As Neelakantan Varier had forwarned, a close study would take not days but months.

Siddharthan continued, “Let us now concentrate on this young man’s object of curiosity. Raman Kaimal and I had spent weeks poring over the leaves. Then he stumbled upon this Narayanan Varier’s conversion. What fascinated him was that subsequent leaves mention about his Nazrani progeny’s continued connection with the parent Hindu family! That did not conform to custom. Anyway, come with me, I’ll show you the leaf.”

Uncle and nephew followed him. Siddharthan reached out to the section marked Kolla Varsham 700-730. He reverentially opened the shelf and began looking for the leaves pertaining to KV 715-25.  Finally he retrieved it. The leaf was in good condition, dust-free. Yes; fascinated by the Portuguese Padre Pranchisco Savariar, one Narayanan Varier became Christian in KV 720. Subsequent leaves mentioned about the assistance rendered by him to this Padre in his mission activities near Thoothukkudi. It was also mentioned that this 35-year-old Varier was a brilliant physician, popular in the family and among the patients. His conversion had caused much sorrow in the joint family, yet they did not reject him, because everyone in the family personally liked him so much.

That evening they had dinner at the main house with Neelakantan Varier and a few other male members of the joint family. Varier launched into a lecture on the greatness of Hindu religion and Hindu epics. Mathootty fully endorsed what he said and made his own contributions that surprised the old man. When Varier forcefully supported the character of Krishna in preference to that of Rama, Mathooty went one step further and asked him, “Which Krishna?”

Varier was perplexed, “Which Krishna?! There is only one Krishna in the Mahabharata”.

Mathootty explained, “We see two distinct characters in Krishna. One, a young playboy Krishna who was the darling of girls and mature women alike; the other a politician who practiced down-to-earth politics, a realpolitiker, a negotiator and diplomat, a military strategist, one good at arms who could win a war by his wits alone, a great philosopher. Which of these two Krishnas do you admire more?”

Now the old man was really in a fix. Lonan came to his rescue. He said, “The two Krishnas could be two different persons whose stories were seamlessly integrated into a single maha-kavyam (epic poem); or they were two different facets of the same person – the youthful phase and the adult phase. My nephew’s question is: Which of these two phases would you like more?”

Neelakantan Varier found his words, but was shrewd enough to parry the question and said Mathootty had introduced a new dimension to the character and concept of Krishna. And his perspective about Mathootty changed profoundly.

Next day Uncle Lonan left. That was a hectic day for Mathootty and Siddharthan. They made some good progress in their search. The old guide would take brief rests in between. And then Mathootty would eagerly visit the Padhasala to greet the students there and briefly take over from the Vadhyar. He would then narrate to them stories from Ramayana, Mahabharata and other ancient books in his endearing voice and in his unique style. When he took up the Panchathanthra story of the monkey on the rose apple tree and his crocodile friend who offered to take him home for lunch specially prepared for him by his admiring wife, the children were enthralled. They couldn’t believe it was the same old story they had heard several times in the past. When it flowed from the mouth of this Nazrani, it suddenly acquired a new colour and a new vibrancy unimagined before. And the children began to look forward to his frequent visits to the Padhasala.

By the third day they had discovered the names of seven ancestors upstream from the Nazrani Narayanan Varier and two generations downstream. When they reached the seventh ancestor above Narayanan Varier, the young researcher seemed to have reached the top end of the records. And further search would be required to get at the generations after the converted Varier. That day in between the search he spent some time with the students at the Padhasala and narrated Aesop’s story of Androcles and the Lion. The children were simply wonderstruck. They clamored for more such stories. He promised one more story the next day that would be his last day with them.

That night Mathootty told the story of King Oedipus before a larger audience with Neelakantan Varier presiding. It was odd to see the old man’s eyes getting moist at the end of the narration! Varier was convinced by now that the world’s great epics were not the exclusive property of the countries or the cultures of their origin. They had universal appeal and hence belonged to the humanity. He felt sorry that Mathootty would be with them only for one more day. He expressed the wish that at the end of his research, Mathootty would discover that he truly belonged to the Varier family through the Nazrani Narayanan! “We’ll all be proud of you as a scion of our family”, said he.

By the end of the fourth day, Mathootty had discovered as many as six generations downstream from Narayanan Varier. No mention could be found in the records below the sixth generation. It was likely that the subsequent generations had lost touch with their parent family. That was a long day for him and his guide. Yet he didn’t forget his promise to the students at the Padhasala to narrate one last story. To his surprise, the hall was filled with adults – both men and women – besides the regular students. And on this occasion he chose the Shakespearean comedy ‘As You Like It’.

Noticing the overwhelming presence of adults in the hall, he shifted to the adult mode in narrating the story. He began with the famous line in the piece:

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players.

As he progressed through the story, they were all ears for him, and their eyes sparkled. At the end they were convinced, even without any other evidence, that this heaven-sent young man was a true member of the family, a sage in the Indian sense.

And then a weird sexual encounter

That night Neelakantan Varier affectionately invited him to sleep in their guest room in the main house. That indeed was an honour done to him on the last day. The previous days he was sleeping in the official guest house outside.

Before going to bed, he briefly evaluated the results of his previous days’ research. He had successfully documented the seven generations of Variers above Nararayanan. That information didn’t need any further verification. However, Narayanan’s successors did not technically belong to the family, and clearly it was those successors who maintained connections with the main family that got their names mentioned. Narayanan must have had several children and they in turn had begotten good many children; but only one at a time got mentioned in the family records. Obviously those whose names got recorded were those pursuing the ayurvedic professions and would not necessarily belong to the “mainline”. Hence it would be fatuous to presume that he himself had descended from the last of the Nazrani Variers found in the records.

At the same time, it was tempting to hypothesize that the last of the Nazrani Variers named Porinchu (Francisco) Variam might have been the father or uncle of the earliest of his ancestors as per the baptism records, named Varied Variam. Porinchu was born in KV 841 (AD 1665) and Varied in 1689. Was there any missing link? Chronologically none. If so, could he hypothesize that he had identified ancestors of 21 generations above him? Seven generations as per the baptism register, seven generations up to and including the Converted Narayanan Varier and seven generations above him! Truly tempting.  Yet, a lot more investigations were required to be done in the matter.

On the whole, Mathootty was satisfied. He got greatly more that what he had expected. Back home, Uncle Lonan would be happy to hear about his achievements and the experiences he had at the Varier house.

He had a sound sleep. In the middle of his sleep Mathootty had a dreamy sensation that someone was sharing his bed. Then the stranger’s perfumed hair tickled his nostrils. Startled out of his sleep, he sat up and peered through the darkness. He saw the hazy form of a middle-aged woman calmly reclining on his bed! The stranger on the bed had long hair, loosened and spread all over him. Silently he felt for her hand for a reality check. It was real. It was also soft, the softness of nobility. Then the bold woman suddenly turned to make advances….

On return, Mathootty would write about it to his friend Shyamal Prabhu. Here are excerpts from the letter.

“…. I was puzzled; yet I had the presence of mind and a cool head. Here I was face to face with a determined woman. If I didn’t oblige, I would be leaving behind a woman burning with indignity and rage. And that could prove disastrous in my future relationship with the Varier family.  So I took a practical approach….

That night I lost my virginity, but not my chastity. After all, virginity is of the body; but chastity resides in the soul. So, what value is virginity for a man, so long as his chastity is untouched!

 …. Anyway, I won’t allow this silly incident to rankle in my mind and distract me from my mission or my future contacts with the Varier family….

The next morning I had breakfast with Neelakantan Varier and a few senior members of the family. Interestingly a good number of previous day’s boys and girls too came in, some of them accompanied by their mothers, to witness our breakfast with joyful curiosity. They stood in a corner of the hall. Some of the bold ones sought to draw my attention by cracking jokes on the stories I had told them. If the woman of the night was present among them, I had no means of knowing….

When I was about to leave, the old man affectionately hugged me and led me to the courtyard where the family’s horse carriage was ready for me. He ceremonially blessed me and gave me a standing invitation to visit the family at any time. I was taken to the family’s boat jetty, where the family’s houseboat was ready for me. I got into the boat and proceeded homeward….”

This letter was found among the personal effects of Prof: Shyamal Prabhu after his death at the age of 83 in the year 1962. Uncle Mathootty had died the previous year.