“Some had name and fame and honour,
Learned they were and wise and strong;
Some were nameless, poor
unlettered
Weak in all but grief and
wrong.”
-William Morris
In my previous episode I had made
a reference to Chowda, the cowherd. He was such a character and was a part of
our daily life that it would be unkind of me to dismiss him with only a casual
reference. It is time for me to bring him back alive!
As stated earlier Chowda was the
cowherd for our entire village. It was a hereditary occupation for him. He had
a permanent house near the house of the biggest landlord of our village. We
used to refer to his house as Gudi.His
wife was called Kundi. His eldest son
was called Thippa. This Thippa was in
our age group and was a good company for us. Both Chowda and Thippa would
address the elderly males as Aiah and youngsters like us as Sannaiah.
Chowda had several roles to play
in our daily life; So much so that his official occupation of cow grazing was
relegated to the background on many occasions. He would be visiting each house
in the morning at about 8 AM .
By that time the daily feeding and milking of the cows were expected to be
completed. He was to be given yele-adke
(a system of giving pieces of arecanut, pan leaves and tobacco to all
labourers/servants daily- practiced only in Malnad) by each household. He
would gather all the cows and buffaloes from each house, herd them together and
proceed to the hills, fields or nearby forest for grazing depending on the
season. All the cows were given names by the households and he could recognize
them by their names. Generally he would carry a flute with him. He would keep
playing the same. The sound of flute in the morning would herald his arrival! This
would also help us to know his location at any given time.
By evening 5 PM Chowda would
ensure that all the animals reached their sheds. He used to have some tough
time during the visit of tigers to our village. This was almost an annual
affair in those days. The tiger would arrive at a cave called Oranakkal on the top of a small hill.
Its roaring could be heard up to far off places during the nights. It would
manage to catch some cow or calf during their grazing. It would drag it all the
way to its cave and enjoy its meal. We could know the fate of our animals only
in the evening. If any animal was found missing its fate could be presumed to
have been sealed. I remember such occasions when we had to simply mourn the
loss of our beloved animals. We used to weep loudly on such occasions as we
could not accept the loss of animals which were so dear to us.
Chowda was mostly helpless on
such occasions. Still there were occasions when he could save the animals by
his intelligent moves when the tiger was about to strike. He had also the misfortune
to announce the death of certain animals which were dragged away by the tiger
in his very presence! He had to accept it as a professional hazard! The
villagers did appreciate his predicament and never made him responsible for
such loss.
Chowda had the responsibility to
remove and bury the dead bodies of the animals. His cash earnings used to be
very limited. People used to offer him meals, breakfast, coffee etc. He was
always a very satisfied man and his necessities were very much limited. He used
to wear only the second hand dresses (used and worn out) offered by the
villagers. He hated the very concept of washing the clothes! My brother used to
threaten him saying that he would give him a cake of washing soap and make him
wash his clothes! Chowda used to simply run away on hearing this! He would rather
wait to get another set of used dress to get rid of the existing dirty dress!
Chowda was liked by village women
as he would bring them forest produce like soapnut , bellatte leaves (leaves of
a particular shrub which would be boiled in water and used to wash the women’s
hair in place of soap), etc. For boys like us he would make flutes and pettlu out of tender bamboo wood. While
the whole world knows the flute, the item Pettlu
is known only in Malnad. It is made by cutting out a small length of tender bamboo.
The pettlu bush is peculiar to Malnad and it bears Pettlu kai (small fruit like produce). These are used like bullets
in the Pettlu. They are inserted in
the hallow portion of the Pettlu and
shot out by pushing them with force by an instrument called Gaja made out of wood.
Every year the Pettlu Habba (festival) is celebrated by
the children of Malnad. The festival date is fixed as per the Vontikoppal and
Sringeri Panchangams. The supply of Pettlu used to be taken care of by Chowda
and later by his son Thippa. We used to celebrate this festival with full
gusto. We enjoyed the shooting of Pettlu
as if we were firing a gun itself. There used to be full support and
co-operation from the elders.
Chowda was a master in story
telling and gossip spreading. As he used to visit all the houses he was privy
to certain inside information. He would either overhear or gather directly from
the family members such private information. His whole disposition and manners
used to be so endearing that the people would pleasingly convey such matter to
him. He had a knack of soliciting and collecting such news. He would add his
own masala and disclose the same to another household in a very presentable
format. This would cost them only a cup of coffee and yele-adke. In those days there used to be no newspapers or radio
and the news was always at a premium. People were hungry to hear any form of gossip
and story. Our Chowda was the only village media available and the cheapest at
that! He knew it well and enjoyed his monopoly!
At his old age Chowda found it
difficult to manage. His son Thippa was a vagabond. Even though he was a good
boy, he neither attended the school nor was interested in his hereditary
occupation. There came a stage where Chowda would simply come in the morning
rounds to collect the yele-adke and
coffee. He would gather the animals and let them off without any further
supervision from him. In the evening most of the animals would return to the
sheds on their own by force of habit. He would just check in at each house
enquiring their return. If any of the animals was missing he would leave
stating that he would go in search of them which he never did.
I distinctly remember one
particular day when I was returning from my school. I saw Thippa on the way and
in the usual manner spoke to him jokingly. Thippa was upset. Addressing me as
Sannaiah, he told me to spare him on
that day at least! He left the place in a huff.
On returning home I was told by
my mother that Chowda was no more. All of a sudden the truth dawned on me that
I could never see Chowda in my life again. The one common thread that ran
between the entire village was broken and was no more. Chowda’s flute went
silent and was to be heard never again. The only vocal media of the village was
closed down permanently. Chowda went away unwept,
unhonoured and unsung.
Today when I am writing down this
memoir of Chowda, tears come to my eyes. Chowda’s distinctive personality
appears in front of me and expresses the gratitude for recording his story and
immortalizing him for the future generations. I feel a sense of satisfaction
amidst the sorrowful memory. I pray for the soul of Chowda that is playing the
flute in the great heavens!
....... (To be continued)……
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