A Child of the Wind

My Youngest Sister Siva Sobha Bowe

nee Siva Sobha Krishnan

She walks in beauty, like the night

of cloudless climes and starry skies;

and all that's best of dark and bright

 

 

meet in her aspects and her eyes

thus mellowed to that tender light

which heaven to gaudy day denies - Lord Byron

"Like branches on a tree

 

we grow in different directions

yet our roots remain as one.

Each of our lives

will always be

a special part of the other."

-Author Unknown

Today is the 25th of November 2012. I am thinking of my youngest sister Sobha. When I think of Sobha, I think of Byron, Shelley and Keats, her favourite poets.

"When twilight drops her curtain down

And pins it with a star

Remember that you have a friend

Though she may wander far..."

As I put together pictures and memories of a shared childhood and home in Johore Bahru, I am selecting for her some of my favourite poems. I can picture her sitting in her living room, one winter's evening, with her cup of steaming tea, reading what I am creating exclusively for a very dear sister, who is much loved by her family.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

- Robert Frost, New Hampshire, 1923

My name is Siva Prasanna Krishnan.

I am a Child of the Wind, like all other children - a recorder of memories of a bygone era - of growing up in the Malaya of the fifties and sixties, as a child of immigrant parents from Mayyanad in Kerala, India.

I am a Child of the Wind that comes blowing from across many unknown lands and seas to caress every being before breezing off to the unknown, never to come back again, leaving in its wake, memories of the soul - that linger on...

I am a reader and writer of poetry and prose, and when dusk replaces day, i gaze upon long-gone people, places and eras...

I am a capturer of moments of life giving to each one an eternity through pictures of the heart and everlasting words... to be passed from one generation to the next, what the wind and heart had once upon a time touched and felt..............

I am Child of the Wind without form, race, country or creed,

I see, I feel, I imprint memories and I move on...

 

 

My imagination is a monastery

And I am its monk - Keats

 

A family portrait taken in October 1963 before we sailed on the SS Rajula to India to meet our Dad's family. Seated Dad and Mum. Standing from extreme right, clockwise: Sobha, Suresh, Harish, Sheela, Prabha and Prasanna. Mum loved to dress us in identical clothes and we did not appreciate the uniform!

 

As I look at the faces of the children in the picture, I remember what the years have done to each one of us. My Mother who would have been 31 when the photograph was taken, is no more. My father is living with me now, trapped alone in a body that refuses to follow the dictates of his mind, living in a silent world, not of his choice. My older brother is in Johore Bahru with his wife Joyce, daughter Suria, son-in-law Max and two grandchildren Micah and Jasmine.
 

I live in Ipoh, semi-retired and thinking of going back to work again. My son Roy works and lives in Ipoh. My husband Chandra is based in Phnom Penh. My son's three dogs Jingo, Gina and Puppydoos, live with me.
 

My sister Siva Sree Lowings lives in Adelaide and her children are around her currently. Her son Adam and wife Tracy and grandsonson Blayke live nearby. Heather lives in Melbourne with her husband Shane. Laura and Andrew with their son Cailin live nearby. Sharona has gone for an interview. Siva and husband Chris travel and work together.
 

Shoba lives in Kent with her husband Geoffrey and a pet dog. Her daughter Shelley and son-in-law Dean live in London.
 

Harish lives in Adelaide with his wife Andrea and his two daughters Jessica and Kayla, live nearby.
 

Suresh lives in JB with his wife Salina and his son Daniel.
 

And in our home, lives my Mum's pet dog Min Chu, all alone, cared for by my two brothers. My father's hands around the two boys (in the photograph above) is symbolic of my father wanting to keep us all together and today we are united by our memories of an unforgettable childhood with relatives and friends and an interesting neighbourhood.

“What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life - to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories.”
-George Eliot

Paternal grandmother Meenakshi and Prasanna, taken outside grandma's house Nyarakkel, in Mayyanad, Kollam District, Kerala, December 1977 when Prasanna visited her grandmother.

 

I first met my grandmother in October 1963 when my father took all of us to India to meet his family and it was the first visit back to India for my Mum since she came in 1947. We travelled by the SS Rajula. Uncle Sugunan met us at the harbour in Madras. We stayed at the Kashmir Hotel for a night and the next morning left for Quilon by train. Uncle Bhasy and Uncle Soman's wife Patmavathy travelled with us.

 

The train pulled in at Quilon station in the evening at dusk. Running along the slowing train with a crowd of people, was our cousin Vijayan from Chempottu, Perappan's son. Mum recognized him. We alighted, moved the bags out of the carriage onto the platform and managed to get two taxis and went to Chempottu, which was our Perappan's house. He was Dad's older brother. Grandmother thought that we would be staying with her and therefore she waited for us at her house. I am not sure why we never stayed in Father's house Nyarakkel.

 

From Chempottu, we walked at night to Nyarakkel. It was dark and it was a very very long walk. Our grandfather was staying at Chempottu, so we met him first. After what seemed to be an endless walk we reached our father's house. Grandma came out to meet all of us. She hugged us and held us to her bony body and exclaimed, "My children have to come to see me after so many years," and many tears were shed. Dad had moist eyes and a silent smile. Mum kept the conversation going.

 

Mum's uncle Karunakaran was there and he wanted us to read so that he could really believe that we could read in English. By the time we went to India we had switched from a Malayalam speaking family to an English speaking one.

 

I cannot remember what we had for dinner but it was something that grandma had prepared together with Uncle Sugunan's wife Aunty Arundhathi. Later that night we had to make the return journey to Chempottu. All of us were placed in one room in front of the house. Some of us slept on mats on the floor and parents and the boys slept on the large bed. That was how our two month holiday in India began.

 

Throughout our stay in India, our grandmother stayed with us in Chempottu. She supervised the cooking of all four meals - breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner. Dinner was a light meal.

My older brother joined us much later after his form three examination. He took a flight from Singapore to Trivandrum but we all sailed back together. My parents and grandma went to the airport to meet my brother. It was a happy holiday because our parents did not place too many restrictions on us.

 

The last time I saw my grandmother was a few days after the above photograph was taken. I gave her two bars of soap and a hundred rupees. I cried with heartfelt sadness and she kept asking me why i was crying. I could not tell her that i knew that i would never see her again.

 

The following year i helped to send my Dad to India to meet her for the last time, when we received a letter from India informing us that she was not well. A couple of weeks after Dad returned to Malaysia our grandmother passed away. I wish i had had more time with her.

 

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek
And cold colder thy kiss
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this - Lord Byron

 

 

Seated - L-R: Romeo's maternal grandmother holding Dileep, eldest son of Aunt Radhabhai who lives in Kundara, Beena Romeo's sister, my paternal grandmother, Meenakshi

The boys behind are Sajan and Romeo (right) The girl on the left is a neighbour, not identified.

Uncle Soman, his mother who is Romeo's grandmother's sister and a first cousin of my paternal grandmother and Uncle Soman's wife Aunty Shantha

 

I remember the Grand Aunt in the picture. When i went to India, my Dad got me a Titoni watch of which i was very proud. Then the aunt and her grand-daughter visited. The girl was about fourteen then and a very bright student. She was studying in a certain class and she needed a watch. So my dear mother called me to her and told me to give my watch to that girl. I was truly hurt and sad to part with my watch. I do not remember the girl's name and I wonder what has happened to my watch over the years because it was a really good watch.

Maternal grandparents, C.A. Raghavan Vaidyar and Lakshmi Narayani with their youngest son Raghavan Siva Prakash, September 1964, before our youngest uncle left for the UK


My grandfather I remember as a gentle person who never ever raised his voice against any one of us. His house was a very peaceful place for us and we spent many happy days there. I remember living in that house until we moved out soon after Sheela was born.


My maternal grandmother was totally different from my paternal grandmother but loved us just as much I am sure. In the morning my paternal grandmother would cook all sorts of traditional breakfasts for us. My maternal grandmother would ask us each morning what we wished to eat and would get one of the boys to buy our breakfast for us. It was the same with all our meals, for the grandma in Malaysia did not know how to cook at all.




 

Mum and Dad in UK in 1981

Dad was the quiet one and Mum was the talkative one. Dad was the disciplinarian and Mum was the peacemaker and loving one. Dad would listen to all the conversations and not say much. I think he kept up with what was happening in all our lives by listening to my Mum talking to us so often on the phone.

 

Mum was about eleven years younger than Dad and I remember I was the girl in class, with the youngest mother. I remember her sense of humour which kept everyone laughing and her amazing ability as a story teller. She was a joy to be with though she had her moments and those were the times when she decided to be very Indian and could not accept that her children were not quite Indian in the way that she wanted. But she accepted all her sons and daughters in law.

Only a dad but he gives his all,
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing with courage stern and grim
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that for him I pen:
Only a dad, but the best of men.

Edgar A. Guest (1916)

Mum age 15 plus before her wedding.

She always grumbled that she had never wanted to get married at such a young age but young as she was, she filled our home with her laughter and her sense of humour. She always wanted her daughters to have a career and not be a slave to their husbands and this reminds me of something I once read somewhere, "You start when you sink in his arms, you end with your arms in his sink!"

Mum had amazing dreams for all of us and she filled our lives with a sense of wonder. My earliest memories of my mother are of her telling us to look at the planes flying in the sky, fascinating birds that came to rest on the trees near our house, flowers that bloomed in colourful glory, insects that came hopping along our way, Chinese travelling hawkers, men who came at night selling sliced fruits, the satay seller as he barbecued tiny bits of aromatic meat while we waited with bated breath, or the kachang puteh man who literally carried his entire livelihood on his head ...

I remember the evenings in our Lumba Kuda house when my brother was about six and I was four and Sheela was one. Our house was the first house in a row of houses. There was a five-foot path in front of the house and then a drain, a sandy patch and beyond it a road. Across the road there was a huge house with a large compound owned by a wealthy Chinese family.

Between the drain and the road there was a sandy patch that must have been about eight feet broad. My father had planted a blushing hibiscus and it grew to be a big tree with lots of flowers. The big rose-like flowers bloom in the morning and are pure white. As the sun rises, the shade of the flowers change from white to a light pink. As the day gets hotter the colour darkens and by afternoon it is a dark pink and by evening they wither and die. One lifetime in one day and the aging process is seen in the changing colour of the flower.

We had two rooms. In our living room we did not have a sitting room set with sofas and armchairs. There were a couple of rattan chairs. Most of the time we sat on the floor on straw mats. Sometimes in the evening Dad would go out and return with Chinese noodles for dinner.

While he was away, Mum would place a mat on the floor and sit us around her. the front door would remain open. She would tell us stories from the Ramayana and the Maha Bharatha. She also told us stories of her childhood in India, her maternal grandmother Narayani, whom she adored, her school, her friends,her numerous relatives, the Onam clothes and festival, the days of hunger and deprivation during the War years and when there were no letters from Malaya and her father. Mum was a natural story teller and it is she who gave me the memories that I am able to record today.

L-RL Mum, Uncle Prasad, Uncle Siva Das, Mum's maternal grandmother Narayani holding Uncle Prakash - Mum always told us that Uncle Das was the only one who owned a pair of slippers in the family

 

No story about my mother is complete without mentioning "Letters from India and Letters to India". Mother was a voracious reader and writer of letters. Almost everyday there would be a letter for her from soneome in India. The ritual would begin with the dog barking and Mum telling us that the postman had come and to go and get the letter. She would come out of the kitchen wiping her wet hands on her mundu. By the time she reached the front door, one of us would have brought the letter to her.

 

Mum would scrutinize the envelope before exclaiming excitedly, "Mother in India" meaning our grandmother or Rukmini, her best friend from India or some other person. All letters from India filled her with an infectious excitement. I believe she was often lonely for India. But it was an India that she left in the forties.

 

She would then sit on the chair and not proceed until all of us were near her and quiet and in complete listening mode. Then she would start reading. At the end of a few lines she would pause and make some comments and then continue reading. I remember a letter from my grandmother in India. She wrote to inform us that Uncle Sugunan had been blessed with yet another baby girl. She also added that while he was having daughters, the family cow was giving birth to male calves!

 

Mum would read the letter twice to us and then tell one of us to put the letter away carefully in the drawer in her room to be read a third time when my Dad came back from work. Sometimes he would read it and at other times, she would read it aloud again. On the days when there were no letters, Mum would take out some old letters and read aloud.

 

It was Letters from India and Mum making a ritual of reading those letters that kept us in touch with our Indian relatives. We knew each one of them by name, what they looked liked, how they behaved, their character, likes and dislikes. Before Mum passed away, she went through all her drawers and letters and destroyed them saying, "Nobody is going to read these letters because no one knows Malayalam." How I wish I had stopped her. Mum's letters would be invaluable today.

 



From Harper Lee to a young fan requesting that she send him a signed photo:

Dear Jeremy
I don’t have a picture of myself, so please accept these few lines:
As you grow up, always tell the truth, do no harm to others, and don’t think you are the most important being on earth. Rich or poor, you then can look anyone in the eye and say, “I’m probably no better than you, but I’m certainly your equal.”

(Signed, ‘Harper Lee’)


Writer Harper Lee was born on April 28, 1926, in Monroeville, Alabama. In 1959 she finished the manuscript her Pulitzer Prize-winning best-seller To Kill a Mockingbird. Soon after, she helped fellow-writer and friend Truman Capote write an article for The New Yorker which would later evolve into his nonfiction masterpiece,  In Cold Blood.

http://www.biography.com/people/harper-lee-9377021


My Mum was no Harper Lee but she applied the same wisdom as did millions of mothers the world over, when bringing up their young ones to face an adult world that can be hostile, evil, dangerous and yet so loving and beautiful.

Mum and Dad in the late 1990s

The Mother

by

Kahlil Gibran

The most beautiful word on the lips of mankind is the word “Mother,” and the most beautiful call is the call of “My mother.”

It is a word full of hope and love, a sweet and kind word coming from the depths of the heart.

The mother is everything – she is our consolation in sorrow, our hope in misery, and our strength in weakness. She is the source of love, mercy, sympathy, and forgiveness….

Everything in nature bespeaks the mother.

The sun is the mother of earth and gives it its nourishment of heart; it never leaves the universe at night until it has put the earth to sleep to the song of the sea and the hymn of birds and brooks.

And this earth is the mother of trees and flowers. It produces them, nurses them, and weans them.

The trees and flowers become kind mothers of their great fruits and seeds.

And the mother, the prototype of all existence, is the eternal spirit, full of beauty and love." - Kahlil Gibran

The Arrival of Sobha

Sobha was born on the 6th of June 1956 in Johore Bahru and she is the fourth child in our family of six children. When she was born, we had already moved out of the rooms that we had rented from a Chinese landlord and were staying at 100 Jalan Lumba Kuda Lama in Johore Bahru and Uncle Anandan and Aunty Indira were staying with us. Aunty Indira was expecting her first child then.

“A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life.” -Isadora James

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

- William Butler Yeats

1956 - Uncle Anandan and Aunty Indira

I remember Mum placing Sobha next to Aunty Indira on her bed, so that Mum could get on with her household chores. Uncle Anandan is an old family friend from the days of Mayyanad and Paravur, before the Second World War and the coming of Mum to Malaya in 1947. Until the end of her days, Aunty Indira loved Sobha like her own daughter.

The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever,
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle;--
Why not I with thine?

- SHELLEY

The move to Bukit Chagar in 1958

In 1958, we moved out of our house in 100 Jalan Lumba Kuda Lama where Sobha was born. Together with us moved the other couple who shared our house, Mr Krishna Pillay, his wife Retnammah and their two children Prabha and Devadas. We moved from an entirely Chinese neighbourhood that was made of bricks and cement, to a Malay neighbourhood and rented a run-down Malay Kampung house that we called home for the next couple of years.

 

 

 

Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov’d recollection

Embitters the present, compar’d with the past;

Where science first dawn’d on the powers of reflection,
And friendships were form’d, too romantic to last; - Lord Byron

1958 - L-R: Aunty Retnammah, Mum (age 26), Devadas, Prabha, Sobha, Sheela. In the background is Safiah's house which was a much bigger house than ours. Note the zinc roof, which was similar to ours.

 

The dresses that Sheela and Sobha are wearing in the picture above, were pink in colour. At that time it was the fashion to have net dresses with a lining for the skirt. Mum always bought for us clothes that were in fashion. Mum had loads of friends. She made friends with anyone anywhere and was not in the least bit shy. She would laugh when joyous and just as easily shed a tear when she shared someone's sorrow.


The following poem is for both my sisters.

My Sister! my sweet Sister! if a name
Dearer and purer were, it should be thine.
Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim

No tears, but tenderness to answer mine:
Go where I will, to me thou art the same—
A lov’d regret which I would not resign.
There yet are two things in my destiny—
A world to roam through, and a home with thee. - Lord Byron


 The house in Bukit Chagar

The house in Bukit Chagar came as a great shock to me. I was born in Jalan Dhoby, in the middle of the town and the only grassy patches that I had seen or stepped on was at the seaside. Then we had moved to rented rooms in the middle of immigrant Chinese and to Jalan Lumba Kuda Lama, also a Chinese majority area. Bukit Chagar was a complete change of enivronment, that took some getting used to at the beginning.

It was a wooden Malay kampung style house on stilts. When you stood in front of the house and looked at it, you would see three tall windows in the middle. On either side of the windows you would see a short staircase leading up to a door. So there were two entrances to the house. We used the right entrance. The left entrance was never used by us. The door had been locked and a single bed was placed against the door, inside the house.


You entered from the front door into a fairly big living room. There was a door that led to another open area with two bedrooms on the left. On the right there were windows that looked out to our neighbours' house. After the second bedroom, there was a staircase that led down to the kitchen with a bathroom on the left at the end of the staircase. The only cemented areas in the house were the kitchen and bathroom floors.



1958 in our Bukit Chagar house L-R: Sobha, Mum, Prabha and the legs of Uncle Prasad

It was an old wooden house, with peeling paint, tall windows that let in lots of sunlight and air and had a zinc roof. It was like no other house we had lived in. There was no road anywhere near our house and therefore for the first time in our lives we did not see any motorised vehicles moving continuously in front of our home , like in Jalan Dhoby or Jalan Lumba Kuda.

Home, My Little Children, Here Are Songs For You

by Robert Louis Stevenson

COME, my little children, here are songs for you;
Some are short and some are long, and all, all are new.
You must learn to sing them very small and clear,
Very true to time and tune and pleasing to the ear.

Mark the note that rises, mark the notes that fall,
Mark the time when broken, and the swing of it all.
So when night is come, and you have gone to bed,
All the songs you love to sing shall echo in your head.

The rustic surroundings, the gentle Malay neighbours and the lack of proper roads leading to the house brought us and nature together. There were no metal fences to separate people, doors were opened in the morning only to be shut at night, there were no grills on windows, we ran, we played and the whole village was our playground and everyone was an uncle or an aunt and it did not matter whether they wore a baju kurung, a sarong or a sari!

 

In front of our house was a fairly big sandy patch. I do not remember any plants growing there. Beyond the patch, were three stone steps and when you went up the steps you came to a tall durian tree and a coconut palm.

 

Next to our house on the right, was a large piece of land which was overgrown with all kinds of growth making it almost like a secondary forest. There was a sandy well-trodden path leading from the front of our house to Jalan Storey, which was a main road. To our little legs, it was a long, long way to Jalan Storey. Before we moved out of that place, the land was cleared for houses to be built.

 

If we followed the path from the front of the house to the left, it went past Safiah's house and on to a Kaka's shop. We used to go there often to buy papadams. Kaka used to make the papadams and dry them in the sun.

 

The back of the house was overgrown with cow-grass that came above our ankles and tickled us when we walked and often left us scratching our feet. There was a permanent smell that I cannot describe except as the smell of fresh grass and mud. When it rained we avoided walking there because the place would be muddy and the mud clinging to our feet was not a very pleasant feeling at all.

 

It was also in that house that we heard many new sounds for the first time in our lives. Just before the rain, there was a loud eery and irritating sound. Mum told us that the frogs were croaking for the rain to come. We never saw the frogs but they never failed to celebrate the rain.

 

At night we heard weird sounds and Mum told us that they were the night birds and insects. The sounds were not frightening but each creature had its own melody and music and with the rain it was nature's orchestra at its best. During the day, all kinds of beetles and insects visited our home. Mum told us that we were not to kill anyone of them except for cockroaches.

 

Two sheds with attap roofs were built by Uncle Krishnan and my Dad. Then one evening two small boxes arrived and in those boxes were the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen. Some were white, some black, some yellow, some brown and some a mixture of colours. After much coaxing Mum allowed us to hold one in our hands and that was the first time I had ever held a baby chick in my hand. You can see the beauty of God in the softness of a baby chick held against your cheek.

 

Years later when Sobha was studying for her Form 6, she decided to keep some chickens. They became her pets and followed her everywhere. She taught them simple commands like:

 

Chick, Chick fly - and they would.

Chick, Chick come - and they would go to her.

Chicks and Sobha became very close and in the evening when it was time for bed and if Sobha had not come home, the chicks would all line up on the stone seats and wait for her to come, often nodding off.

 

Neighbours who visited would stop at the gate and ask if the chickens had been put in their coop for they did not take kindly to strangers and would go and peck them to keep them away from the home! I do believe that Sobha kept them after having read Jonathan Livingston Seagull and the parody, Jonathan Segal Chicken.

 

When Sobha left for the UK in 1981, she bid them a sad farewell. All six or eight of them by the way turned out to be cockerels so my mother did not get the eggs that she thought she would. And in the tradition of Jonathan Segal Chicken, the chickens were given to Chellapan and I do believe that some people enjoyed a hearty meal.

 

We took our dog Johnny with us to Bukit Chagar. I do not remember the dog being an issue with our Malay neighbours. We never had any problems with our neighbours at all.

Slowly or quickly, I am not sure now, we made friends with our new neighbours. I remember Safiah's mother, a fair skinned matronly lady with a number of children. The eldest was Mat who was about 12 or 13 at that time. He was a quiet, polite boy who kept to himself. After him came Safiah a very beautiful young girl who was about ten. She was very friendly and all of us truly liked her very much. Then there was Awang who was about nine. He was naughty but fun. Then I remember a fair skinned young girl Faridah.

 

I remember their father very vaguely. He was brown-skinned, not very tall and portly. There was another lady, a relative who lived with them. She used to sew clothes and helped to do the cooking. I remember my Mum's and Aunt Retnammah's observations about the Malays.

 

"They are just like us, they get up early and take a bath in the morning. The Chinese did not bathe everyday."

"They are not shy at all, they remain with the sarong draped around them the whole day while doing the housework."

"Their food smells a bit like ours."

 

"They are very friendly and they are very kind. There is never a sound of anyone scolding anyone or shouting or fighting."

 

"The men don't do any housework."

 

"They do not get excited. They speak softly and in a sing-song manner. We can only understand them when they speak to us. But when they speak to each other they have a different slang and you don't know what they are saying."

 

We children bridged the gap for the adults. If the aroma of their food wafted into our house, I am sure that ours visited their home too. Then one day, Mum and Aunt discovered that they could bake cakes. So the two ladies in our house observed the happenings in the neighbours' house very closely from our kitchen window.

 

At the end of the day, the ladies in our house decided to bake a cake. The next day, they put together all the ingredients that they had seen and added enough liquid to make the consistency right and then to my horror I was asked to take the batter to the neighbours' house to find out if our ladies had got it right. Safiah's mum looked at the bowl in my hand, listened to me and followed me back to my house.

 

Mum and Aunt smilingly welcomed her and told her that they were baking a cake but wanted to confirm that they were doing it correctly. I remember Safiah's mother explaining with a smile that it was not quite right. She told Mum that she would get all the ingredients and come over the next day with her coal oven and help to bake a cake.

 

I am not sure what happened to the experimental batter. The next day I was not allowed to skip school and watch the baking session. Instead I had to go to school. When I returned at half past six, there were two types of delicious cakes on the table. Mum was full of praises for the neighbour and told us over and over again that she would not take any money for the ingredients. During Onam, Mum sent over the Indian delicacies that we had made and they were much appreciated by our neighbours.

 

A Home Song

by Henry Van Dyke

I read within a poet's book
A word that starred the page:
"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage!"

Yes, that is true; and something more
You'll find, where'er you roam,
That marble floors and gilded walls
Can never make a home.

But every house where Love abides,
And Friendship is a guest,
Is surely home, and home-sweet-home:

For there the heart can rest.

Years later when my uncle Prasad got married, it was Safiah's mother who was the caterer and her food was simply delicious. We also heard that she had been become the royal cook at the palace, and was honoured with a title later.

 

These were my earliest impressions of the Malays as a family unit, after my first close encounter with them when I was eight. My strongest impression of them was that they were not in the least bit racist. It was almost as though they did not know we were Indians!

 

Old classmates

Mum and Aunt Retnammah had been classmates in Mayyanad before the war and they met up again in Malaya in the fifties and decided to share a home. When I was ill and hospitalised for a long time in 1958, Mum was pregnant with Harish. She would make two trips to the hospital everyday, rain or shine, all alone, with a tiffin filled with food for me. I did not realise then how rich my life really was.

Today I recall those trips. She would have had to walk almost a mile to reach the nearest bus stop to catch a bus to the hospital and make the return journey by two in the afternoon when visiting hours ended. She would be there at five in the evening with her tiffin and return at half past six with my Dad. Nothing stopped her from coming to see me.

It was Aunt Retnammah who took care of my brother and sisters when Mum made the trips. Aunt Retnammah who helped with the cooking and feeding of the young children. I am glad that I grew up witnessing such friendship and kindness.

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend

By H. W. Longfellow

When I watch my Dad as he is today, I remember the Man that he used to be - he was like clockwork - precise. I do not remember my Dad ever lying, wasting money or not putting his wife and children first. I am blessed to be given a chance to do for my father what he has done for all of us.

 

My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border,
And carefully he bred me in decency and order,
He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne’er a farthing,
For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding,

Robert Burns

Uncle Soman (left) and Uncle Prathabhasimhan his brother-in-law

I remember Mum's first cousin Prathabasimhan who was also related to Dad, coming from India. He came around the time Sobha was born and stayed with us for a while. Uncle Karunakaran wanted to fix him up with a job in Singapore. We were then staying at 100 Jalan Lumba Kuda Lama.

 

When we moved to Bukit Chagar, he moved with us. Then he went to Kuala Lumpur to stay with Uncle Karunakaran and from there he left for India somewhere in late 1959 or early 1960.

1958 and we were living in Jalan Lumba Kuda when we were informed that Mum's first cousin Aunt Remabhai, was getting married and moving to Singapore. Pictured above Uncle Soman and Aunty whom my mother referred to as Thangachi. Mum was very happy and told everyone that at last she had a sister in Malaya.

 

When Friendship or Love
Our sympathies move;
When Truth, in a glance, should appear,
The lips may beguile,
With a dimple or smile,
But the test of affection's a Tear;

Ye friends of my heart,
Ere from you I depart,
This hope to my breast is most near:
If again we shall meet again
In this rural retreat,
May we meet, as we part,
with a tear.- The Tear by Lord Byron

 

 

1959 - My beautiful sisters, Sheela (left) and Sobha taken in Bukit Chagar by Uncle Prasad.

 

The greatest gift our parents gave us was the habit of giving. Mum was always giving to others and she never expected others to give to her. That is a trait that I see in our Aunty Rema in East Ham - always a meal for every guest, did not matter that those who came and dined with her, never thought to take her out for a meal. And I saw it in our cousin Romeo and his wife. He told me that his wife would cook for us and before I left for Malaysia, he gave us a lovely meal at his house. That evening was all the more special for I met his wife Prabha and his son Benoy and daughter Suria for the first time. What lingers in my heart is their warmth and caring - everyone of them.

 

I was truly glad that years ago when they visited Kuala Lumpur and I was unable to meet them I got my son to meet them, take them out for a meal and make their visit a comfortable one. I was touched when they remembered that visit with Roy with so much of affection.

Sobha (left) and Sheela 1959

Photographs for posterity. Once in a while, Mum and Dad would dress us all up in our Sunday best and take us to the photo studio to take photographs. The only studio that I can remember is Chow Wah Studio near my grandmother's house. I remember that my grandfather's brother was a photographer in Johore Bahru. He sold his shop to a Chinese and went back to India before the start of the war. I often wonder if it was Chow Wah Studio.

 

I am glad that taking photographs in a studio was a must for my parents, if not we will not have these pieces of paper that have captured forever, certain moments in time for the Krishnan family. We have photographs that help us remember.

Remember

by Christina Rossetti

Remember me when I'm gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.



L-R: Sheela sitting on the chair, Sobha, Prasanna and Harish, 1959

Sobha 1959

Early 1960 Harish and Sobha

"Women opened the windows of my eyes
and the doors of my spirit.

Had it not been for the woman-mother,

the woman-sister,

and the woman-friend,

I would have been sleeping among those

who seek the tranquility of the world

with their snoring."
- Kahlil Gibran

1959 - L-R Sobha, Prasanna, Prabha, Sheela and Harish on the chair, a Chow Wah Studio photograph

 

Because there were six of us, we did not really need many other friends to have fun while growing up. We played, we quarrelled and we made up. We studied together, we helped our Mum in the kitchen and our Dad took us for long drives. We had one thing in common: we loved to read and we loved our dogs.

Puppy And I

by A.A. Milne

I met a Man as I went walking:
We got talking,
Man and I.
"Where are you going to, Man?" I said
(I said to the Man as he went by).
"Down to the village, to get some bread.
Will you come with me?" "No, not I."

I met a horse as I went walking;
We got talking,
Horse and I.
"Where are you going to, Horse, today?"
(I said to the Horse as he went by).
"Down to the village to get some hay.
Will you come with me?" "No, not I."

I met a Woman as I went walking;
We got talking,
Woman and I.
"Where are you going to, Woman, so early?"
(I said to the Woman as she went by).
"Down to the village to get some barley.
Will you come with me?" "No, not I."

I met some Rabbits as I went walking;
We got talking,
Rabbits and I.
"Where are you going in your brown fur coats?"
(I said to the Rabbits as they went by).
"Down to the village to get some oats.
Will you come with us?" "No, not I."

I met a Puppy as I went walking;
We got talking,
Puppy and I.
"Where are you going this nice fine day?"
(I said to the Puppy as he went by).
"Up to the hills to roll and play."
"I'll come with you, Puppy," said I.

Our Move to Lorong 2B Jalan Abdul Samad

When we were living in Bukit Chagar Dad booked a house in Jalan Abdul Samad. I remember going with my Dad to see the ground that had been levelled, the big plot being divided into twenty-four smaller plots, the foundations being laid, the brick walls coming up, the clay and our feet getting all muddied, the windows, the tiles on the floor and Dad asking me what colour the tiles should be and I said pink and our floor is made of pink mosaic tiles.


Finally one day in early November 1963, on an auspicious day, we moved to that house. Mum boiled a pot of milk and made us all drink. She was the happiest person for at long last she had a house of her own and there would be no more rented houses and sharing or houses with other families. We children, we were proud of our new house which was near Kampung Baru.


Dad proceeded to plant the grass. My Uncle Nganeswaran said that we should plant some coconut trees and I remember that one of the uncles who planted the trees in our garden was the late husband of our Aunt Savithri in Paravur.

 

November 1960 Sarojini who stayed with us for two years from 1958 to end of 1960, and Sobha

1961 Harish and Sobha

Harish, Ramdas and Surajah, November 1960

Uncle Prakash's best friend Gabriel Lee carrying Suresh, early 1961





 

25 years later - Tunku Abdul Rahman taking a closer look at The Star after the launch of the new printing press in 1985 in Penang. On his right is Star Publications managing director, the late Gabriel Lee. - NG AH BAK/1985
 

February 1961, Our Malay maid Zainun who came to help Mum after Suresh was born in December 1960. At first we had an Indian lady who was a terror. She worked for about two months and bullied all of us. Her services were terminated when she burned Harish with her cigarette butt.
 

1961 L-R: Sheela, Suresh and Sobha

Suresh was the only one who was born in Jalan Abdul Samad and with his arrival our family of six children was complete. He is truly a child of the neighbourhood. Mum was twenty eight when Suresh was born and she decided that she would not have any more children. In those days it was very difficult for a lady of her age to have tubal ligation done but Mum was one very determined person.




Early 1961 soon after we moved into our new house, L-R: Prabha, Harish, Sobha and Mum in the background

There is a history in all men's lives. - William Shakespeare
 

1961- on the balcony of 15 Jalan Dhoby, Uncle Gopal carrying Suresh, Sobha on the right

Uncle Gopal was Uncle Prasad's friend, he was not our real uncle but we called all adults Uncle or Aunt as a mark of respect. What I remember as a distinguishing feature of our grandparents' house was the endless stream of friends who came visiting. Everyone in that house had friends who came to visit, and we children grew up with people calling at all hours of the day and being made to feel most welcome at all times.

 

Another feature of my grandparents' house was the number of books to be found everywhere. There were books in every room and magazines too. Our uncles were avid readers and they passed on the love of books to all of us. Most of the time that we stayed there, was spent reading quietly from the vast selection of books. And much we learned in that house of books. We also learned to appreciate quotations because our uncles were so adept at coming out with suitable quotations.
 

Oscar Wilde my favourite playwright

"I have nothing to declare except my genius."

- Oscar Wilde (1854-1900) upon arriving at U.S. customs 1882

"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go."

"To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance"

"A man can't be too careful in the choice of his enemies."

"It is better to have a permanent income than to be fascinating."

"Bigamy is having one wife too many. Monogamy is the same."

" Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them, rarely, if ever do they forgive them."


"Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught."


"There is only one thing in life worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about."

“Nobody's family can hang out the sign, "Nothing the matter here."
-Chinese proverb

When I hear children complaining about their parents and making out that they were hard done by, that other families were happier families, I am reminded of a certain Chinese proverb. Many a time, when the girl tells her boyfriend or the boy tells his girlfriend how terrible their parents had been to them, they forget that they will one day be parents themselves and find that parenting is not easy. It is harder when you are alone and far away from your childhood home.
 

The Soldier

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

- Rupert Brooke

 

Mum was a great Indian Nationalist and regaled us with stories of the glory of Indian leaders, writers and poets. She never failed to tell us again and again, that Tagore was the first Asian to win the Nobel Prize.
 



The Gift

by Rabindranath Tagore

I want to give you something, my child, for we are drifting in the
stream of the world.
Our lives will be carried apart, and our love forgotten.
But I am not so foolish as to hope that I could buy your heart
with my gifts.
Young is your life, your path long, and you drink the love we
bring you at one draught and turn and run away from us.
You have your play and your playmates. What harm is there if
you have no time or thought for us!
We, indeed, have leisure enough in old age to count the days
that are past, to cherish in our hearts what our hands have lost
for ever.
The river runs swift with a song, breaking through all
barriers. But the mountain stays and remembers, and follows her
with his love.

Early 1961 - L-R Maternal grandfather Raghavan Vaidyar, Prasanna, Paternal granduncle from India, Sheela, Maternal Grandmother, Sobha, Prabha carrying Harish (Grand Uncle had come to attend the wedding of his eldest son, our Uncle Karunakaran)
 

My paternal grandfather went to Ceylon when times were hard, in the 1930s.

My paternal grandparents with two unidentified children
 

My grandmother and her three sons moved in with her brother, my paternal grand-uncle pictured above. My grand-uncle's wife was a teacher and so grandma took care of all the children. My Dad and his cousins were more like brothers than cousins. In the fifties when Uncle Karunakaran was working in Singapore, he spent most weekends with us. We remember him for his gentleness, his kindness and the love he gave to us.

When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry. - William Shakespeare
 

Uncle Karunakaran was a regular visitor to our home almost every weekend when he was working in Singapore. He would arrive on Friday or Saturday and return on Sunday evening. Our parents would station us in front of the house to catch the arrival of the train from Singapore. Once the train pulled in, all of us would walk down to the station to meet him and walk back to the house holding his hands. He was always full of smiles for us as he chatted with Mum and Dad. Then, one day he told us that he would be moving to Kuala Lumpur. It was unthinkable for us to think of the miles that would separate us from our uncle and of the weekends when he would not be with us.

He moved to Kuala Lumpur in the late fifties. He came to our house with his things, the weekend he was moving to Kuala Lumpur. All of us walked to the station but with sadness. At the station to send him was another family from Singapore. My brother remembers the adults and one or two young girls. After the trained pulled out, the other family left for Singapore and we walked back to our home.

Catches of conversation are remembered about that family.
The man had a problem with alcohol and the family faced an acute shortage of money.
Uncle Karunakaran supported them financially and was particularly interested in the girls' education.
From what we remember the girls were good children and good students as well.
We never met them again but whenever uncle visited us, which was quite often, he would refer to their progress.
Today, I do not remember any of their names or where they are.


I remember his first car, him coming to our house and taking us all to Singapore. We used to wait for his visits. One day in 1958 my brother and I wrote him a letter. We asked him to bring a badminton racket for my brother and a hula hoop for me. He brought the racket but not the hoop. He told me that he did not know what it was.
 

We did not tell our parents about the letter. We found an envelope, copied his address and stuck a used stamp and put it in the pillar box near our grandparents' house in Jalan Dhoby. He told us that he had to pay a fine before he could collect that letter because we had not used a valid stamp. Mum was most upset for days after that. She kept on nagging us that he would think she set us up, though he reassured her that he believed in her innocence.
 

Front row, L-R: Sheela, Aunt Rema's mother, Aunt Sathi from Singapore, Aunt Rema, Granduncle holding Sobha, Aunt Rema's youngest sister, Mum holding Suresh, Prasanna

Back row: Prabha, Uncle Karunakaran, Uncle Nganeswaran my Dad's older brother, Dad crrying Harish, taken in 1961 after uncle Karunakaran's wedding
 

Paternal granduncle is the older brother of my paternal grandmother Meenakshi and I am unable to recall his name now. He had three sons, Uncle Karunakaran, Uncle Sidhan who was with the Indian Navy and Uncle Logan about whom I know very little currently. Granduncle came to Malaya to attend the wedding of his son, our Uncle Karunakaran in Kuala Lumpur. He visited us and stayed with us for a couple of weeks in Johore Bahru.

L-R: Kolatha Maamen Karunakaran who is my Dad's uncle, Uncle Siddhan who is Uncle Karunakaran's younger brother and Uncle Nganeswaran who is my Dad's older brother, taken in the fifties when Uncle Siddhan who was with the Indian Navy came to Singapore

 

After his marriage, Uncle Karunakaran came to our house with our aunt once. We made a visit to Kuala Lumpur to his house the following year and then, we did not see much of him any more.

L-R: Prasanna, Sheela Mum, Sobha, Harish, Dad carrying Suresh, Prabha, taken in 1962 by Uncle Karunakaran when we visited Kuala Lumpur for the first and last time as a family.

I remember one last visit he made to our house alone somewhere in 1968. He came alone at night. My parents spoke and my Mum cried and he kept asking her, "Aniyathi enthini karayinu?" (Younger sister, why are you crying?) We children were quite upset with Mum for crying in front of him. Much as we loved him, we felt that he had ignored us after having given us so much love from the time my older brother was born.

Next I met my Uncle when I was at the University in Kuala Lumpur. I had met with an accident and he had come to visit me. Then a few months later my Dad's older brother passed away in Singapore. Uncle Karan came to inform me and he took me to Singapore to attend the funeral. We took the night train and returned the following night also by train. I took a taxi home from the station and I am not sure how he went home. I lived in Petaling Gardens which was very near his house.

The next I saw him was at my wedding. Then after my wedding I spent a couple of days at his house in Jalan Gasing and then I never saw him again. His passing in 1975 is still painful for all of us. It was a heartbroken Dad who attended the funeral of a man whom he had grown up with, more as a brother than a first cousin. In those days, there was a striking resemblance between my Dad and my Uncle.

Front Row L-R: Prasanna, Paternal Grand-Uncle from India, Sobha, Maternal grandmother Lakshmi Narayani, Mum holding Suresh, Sheela. Back row: Dad carrying Harish, Prabha, 1961

 

Please take a good look at my dress. That was the dress Dad bought for me to wear at my Uncle Karunakaran's wedding. Uncle Karan took us to the shop in his car and I was allowed to choose the dress. In 1961 it cost a whopping $28. It was blue with beautiful lace and it had blue lining and puffed sleeves. I was so proud of the dress and regretted growing out of it. Being the oldest girl in the family I never had to wear hand-me-down clothes. That dress would have gone to Sheela. I was not allowed to wear it at home and spoil it.
 

There was another relative of my father's who attended the wedding with her children. I can remember two of her daughters' names - Lilly and Annie. She combed my long hair for me on the day of the wedding. One of her daughters married and vet and settled in Butterworth or Bukit Mertajam in Penang. When I met her about four years ago (2008) she told me that whenever Uncle Karan visited their family in the sixties, he would often speak of my brother and me with fond affection.



You speak of Lord Byron and me;

There is this great difference between us.

He describes what he sees

I describe what I imagine.

Mine is the hardest task.

- John Keats

On our way to India the ship berthed at Penang Port and we took this picture then, November 1963. Dad appears to be telling us to stay together but it was not to be.



How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child.
King Lear (1.4.280)

1963 after our return from India, L-R: Dad, Sobha, Uncle Raghavan (Aunty Subadhra's husband, Appapan my maternal grandfather's paternal uncle, Uncle Kamalan

We moved into No 3 Lorong 2B Jalan Abdul Samad in November 1960. Mum was the happiest person for at long last she had a house of her own for her family of soon to be six children. In those days we had a constant stream of visitors to our house. Uncle Kamalan and Uncle Yashodharan, Mum's first cousin, helped to build the stone seats near our gate. They also helped to construct the kitchen at the back of the house.
 

They were bachelors and used to come during the weekends and stay with us as the building works progressed. We enjoyed their visits because Uncle Kamalan in particular had a very infectious sense of humour and our house was filled with laughter. It also meant that we had special meals because of the visitors.

Seated L-R: Sheela, Chitra, her brother Suni, Prasanna, second row: Vavachi, Sobha and Prabha standing, 1963

 

 

We are seated on one of the stone seats that Uncle Kamalan and Uncle Yashodharan built in 1961. All of us have spent hours there trading stories or just day dreaming and they are still there and in good condition too. If the seats could talk, they would have lots of stories to tell.

L-R: Vavachi, Chitra, our neighbour Swarna Lakshmi Viswanathan Iyer,, Sobha, 1963

L-R: Chitra, Sobha, Uncle Kamalan, our pet Robbie and Sheela in our front garden in Jalan Abdul Samad, 1963

Sobha went to the Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus in 1963

At the end of every year, the class teachers would take the studdents for a picnic and the most favoured venue was the Istana Gardens. All of us from the Convent during the sixties have great memories of gathering in school early in the morning without our books and with bags of food and drinks.

 

We would line up and walk to the gardens. It was not a very long walk. We would walk down Jalan Yahya Awal and turn right to the road that took us to the entrance to the zoo which was not too far from Bukit Zahrah School.

 

Old Bukit Zahrah school

Not my picture, taken from the Internet

And from there we would enter the gardens and walk to the main area where the picturesque pond with a fountain just drew our breath away. A short distance away were the swings, the slides, the see-saws and undulating grounds for us to play 'catching'.

 

not my picture, taken from the Internet

On reaching a suitable shady area, we would place our food on mats, we would remove our pinafore and be in our school blouse and bloomers. After playing for a while, our teacher would tell us it was time to eat. We would share our food and drinks. The most popular were the swings and some of the girls would swing really high. Everyone had a chance to play at the swings.

 

Not my picture, taken from the Internet

By noon, we would pack up, clear our rubbish and walk back to school with our teacher. There was only one teacher to care for the forty odd students. Those were safe days and we were pretty obedient children.

 

 

Another fascination for all of us was the Johore Royal Family. From the time I can remember Sultan Ibrahim would come to school with the Sultanah and Princess Mariam. After the demise of the Sultan in 1959, the next sultan was Sultan Ismail, and he was a regular at our school. So there was a close relationship between the Royal family and the Convent. As such we had great affection for the royal family and a great interest too.

 

Can you spot Sobha?

As the years went by...

In 1966 Uncle Kamalan went to India and informed us that he was getting married. His wife was 22 at that time and uncle was 44. The following year he brought her to Singapore where she has stayed ever since.

A family portrait of Uncle Kamalan's family. The boy on the left is Sanjiv and the one on the right is Rajiv. I cannot remember the little girl's name.

All my life I had known Uncle Kamalan and from my very young days until I got married and moved out of Johore, he was very much a part of our family. Once he got married, aunty and the children became his top priority and we no longer saw him as often as we would have liked. We visited them when they lived in the annexe of a large Chinese mansion in Scott Road Singapore. Uncle never lost his sense of humour but somehow he had changed. Today, I would say that the mischievous boy that was in him grew up and he became serious and was no longer the 'fun uncle' that he used to be.

 

Uncle passed away in the late 80s and I visited aunty and children with my parents soon after. I stood in front of his photograph in the hall and cried not just for an uncle who had passed away but an era that will never return - when people placed so much of importance on family ties. Today we are not sure where his family is. They have moved from their old home and there is no forwarding address.

Uncle Bhasy and Aunty Radha, Sudesh Bhasy and Sudha Bhasy

Another totally unforgettable icon is Uncle Bhasy or Botak Bhasy as he was popularly known. As alike as chalk and cheese, Uncle Bhasy was the older brother of Uncle Kamalan. They lived in the heart of Chinatown in Singapore and he was known as the only non-Chinese leader of a gang! and had a passion for big bikes together with another Uncle Rajan also from Singapore. An accident in Johore Bahru apparently ended that passion for big bikes.

 

 

Uncle Bhasy and Uncle Kamalan had a famous falling-out and everybody knew about it and yet did not know the reason for it. They did not speak to each other from the early 50s until the early 70s.

 

I have known uncle and aunty all my life and we regularly visited them and they visited us. I have always looked forward to their visits because of my cousin Sudha who was some months younger than me. She was fun, witty, sported a short fashionable hair style and wore beautiful dresses. She spoke so well and we got along famously.

 

There were times when she used to stay at our home during the holidays. Aunty was the only one of her generation to use sleeveless sari blouses and absolutely no jewellery. She was a mathematics teacher and she shared a very close and loving relationship with her daughter. I used to envy Sudha her short hair and her can-cans.

 

In 1970 I entered the University of Malaya in Kuala Lumpur to study for a degree in English Literature and Sudha enrolled at the University of Singapore to read law. Tragedy struck the family and Sudha succumbed to cancer of the liver in May 1975 before completing her law degree, leaving behind a shattered family. It was her illness that brought Uncle Kamalan and Uncle Bhasy together again.

 

In 1975 I enrolled at the University of Singapore and met up with the Nathan family who lived in Sembawang. Irene Nathan was a university mate and I met her sister Emily and her brother Peter who were lawyers in Singapore. Emily and Sudha had been university mates and friends and they spoke very highly of Sudha and her ability as an outstanding public speaker. When Sudha dropped out of Universtity due to ill-health the university promised to keep her place for her whenever she was well enough to resume her studies.

 

I visited Sudha a number of times after she fell ill. Once I stayed over at her place and we spoke late into the night. We spoke of our dreams, the past, when she had short hair and I had long hair, the future and what we would do, but never the present for that would involve her illness which she never spoke about. Her humour, stayed with her and before the end, Aunt bid her farewell and went home and waited. She never saw Sudha again.

 

I last met my uncle in late 1975 when I attended Soya's wedding. He went to India shortly after that and passed away in India. I last met my aunt at my grandfather's funeral in 1987. Sudesh Bhasy, her son brought her to my house at three in the morning and about fifteen minutes later he decided to leave. She too went to India and passed away there. Sudesh Bhasy was married to his cousin Lilly and has two sons, Don Reagan and Don Clyde. The last I heard, he was a preacher in Israel.

 

I have no information about Aunty - her house name or where in Kerala she came from. I know that she was fond of me and that could be because of her daughter.

Front row, L-R: Chitra, Suni, Vavachi, Sobha, Harish

Back row, L-R: Prasanna, Aunt Subadhra, Mum carrying Suresh, 1963

When Mum visited India in 1985 she met Chitra who is a teacher, Vavachi who is a lecturer in the Medical Faculty of Trivandrum University. I believe Vavachi's name is Legha.

1985 in India, L-R: Suni, Chitra, Vavachi, Aunty Subadhra and two unidentified people

Aunty Subadhra and her husband Uncle Raghavan lived in Serangoon Road Singapore. She lived in front of the sari shops, in a shop house upstairs. They had rented two rooms from a Chinese landlord and lived there until Uncle Raghavan passed away. The family then moved back to India. However, their son Suni returned to Singapore.

 

Whenever Mum wanted to buy saris we would all go to Aunty Subadhra's house and we children would play with our cousins while our mums went shopping. I remember the common bathrooms and toileta that all tenants had to share. A very common feature of such houses were the large ceramic jars with sculptures usually of dragons, brown in colour, which were used to collect water.

Large Chinese Antique Ceramic Pot late 19th century, China, Ceramic (Cizhuan) Price: $1,450.00

The tap would always be on and the jars somehow never over-flowed. There was a strong smell of chlorine and the floor would be wet. There was no smell of urine, and we had to use the red wooden clogs, so popular amongst the Chinese of those days.

 

They visited us regularly too and I believe they enjoyed our garden and our pet dogs.

L-R: Aunty Subadhra, my maternal grandmother and Mum with Suni, camera captured one happy moment in time, 1963

Mum's cousins Aunt Sumathi and Aunt Subadhra and their families were regular visitors. They did not have to tell us that they were coming. They just arrived at the gate and we all got caught up in the excitement of Dad going marketing and Mum preparing lunch and us children generally being able to get away with murder.

The ever smiling Aunt Sumathi, my Mum's cousin - I have vague memories of attending her wedding in Singapore in 1953 and somewhere there is a family photograph taken at her wedding. She has three children: Dr Ranjit an orthopaedic surgeon in Singapore, Rani and a younger daughter whose name eludes me now.

 

Mum and Aunty Sumathi both have a 'mani mala' beaded chain made of gold that they got when Aunty Sumathi got married. Just before Mum passed away she gave the chain to me.

L-R: Dad's uncle Kolatha Maamen, Dad and Uncle Ayakutty, early seventies before Kolatha Maamen left Singapore

Kolatha Maamen came to Singapore in the late forties. From the time I can remember he has been a regular at our house for Onam lunch. He would also visit us about once a month on a Sunday. He would come in the morning, have lunch with us, take a short nap and then leave for Singapore in the evening.

 

 

He was a very pleasant person who had a loud voice and spoke in a hurried manner. As soon as he arrived he would take off his long-sleeve shirt and hang it somewhere and be dressed in his white sleeveless singlet and brown pants. He would speak to my parents and then spend time speaking to us, especially my older brother. He would talk to him about his school, his friends and what he had done. He knew my brother's friends by name and never failed to ask him about them.
 

He had a daughter who was deaf. He would tell us stories about his family who lived near the Kollam station. He loved rambutans and he took home the seeds and planted it in his garden. He told us that one seedling grew to be a big tree but I do not remember him telling us about the fruits. I doubted that that lonely tree ever bore any rambutans.
 

I last saw Uncle when he visited us in Paravur in 1987 when I accompanied my parents to Kerala. He was dressed in a cream coloured silk veshti and a jubba. He only looked a bit older than he did in Singapore.

THE AYAKUTTY FAMILY FROM SINGAPORE

L-R front row: Valsan, Raju (Uncle Ayakutty's sons) Suresh, Harish

Back row: Uncle Prasad, maternal grandfather Raghavan Vaidyar, Uncle Ayakutty, Aunty Saradha, Sobha, Uncle Prakash, Sheela and Dad, taken before Sheela left for the UK in 1974
 

Another family that visited us regularly were Uncle Ayakutty, a relative of Dad's, and his family. I remember Uncle Ayakutty bringing Aunty Saradha to our house soon after their wedding. We were staying in Bukit Chagar and it was sometime in 1958. My Dad and brother took them to the zoo - have no idea why he wanted to show aunty the zoo. They brought a box of Cadbury's assorted chocolates for us. One reason why we loved to have guests was because of the gifts they brought. Nobody would ever visit anyone empty handed. When we went visiting, buying gifts was a big part of the visit.

Years later when we children visited our parents we always brought gifts. I have many wonderful gifts in my house given to me by my brothers and sisters and my parents. I do not believe that this is a totally Asian trait because I have many European friends who have brought lovely gifts each time they visited.

Uncle Soman's family

Uncle Soman and family lived in Queenstown and visited us quite regularly with the family until he too moved to the UK. Mum lost the sister that she had always wanted. But I do believe that she caught up with them in UK when she visited in 1981 and 1985.

Romeo, his sister and his brother

I met Uncle Soman and Aunty about three years ago when Romeo brought his parents to visit me. To say that I was touched by that gesture is an understatement. They took the morning train from Kuala Lumpur to Ipoh and took the three O'clock train back. I gave a sari to aunty because I had nothing else to give to her. She was so very gentle and kind. I told her that being with her was like being with my mother again.


What also impressed me that day was the relationship that Romeo shared with his parents. They are blessed to have a son like him. In 2012 November 11, I visited Romeo in East Ham and had dinner with his family. I enjoyed every moment of my visit and enjoyed meeting his wife Prabha and his son Benoy and daughter Suria.


The years moved on and before I knew it I was almost twenty and about to leave home and enter university. I enrolled at the University of Malaya in Kuala Lumpur in June 1970 and became the first member of my family to leave home. Little did I realise that I would never be coming back to live in Johore Bahru with my parents permanently again. Once I graduated, I got a post as a temporary teacher in Batu Pahat and soon after that I got married.

Mum (age 48), Dad and Sobha in our garden in Jalan Abdul Samad in 1979 - Sheela sent the skirt that Sobha is wearing. She sent me a similar skirt but with maroon as the background colour.

L-R: Sobha carrying Fluffy who was born deaf but a very smart dog, Mum and three other people only Sobha can identify for me. I believe they were Mum's neighbours

Front Row, L-R: Sheela, Prasanna, Indra carrying Roy, Suresh, Sobha

Back Row, L-R: David, Sunny Surit

Taken on 8 Jan 1980 - Roy's first birthday

In 1981 Sobha left for the UK and I do believe that it was a very sad day for my parents. She came to my house in mid-1981, when I was living in Pahang and told me that she needed to go to the British High Commission regarding her visa. I broke the news to my parents. I remember the moment when my mum heard that Sobha was leaving home.

 

 

We were seated in the living room and Mum was sitting in an armchair in front of me. I told Mum that Sobha was leaving for the UK to commence her training as a nurse. She could not believe it. Her words were, "She is leaving me and going! Her departure is something I cannot bear." And then she cried as though her heart was breaking.

 

When she had calmed down, the story unfolded. Sobha had applied for nursing, and my older brother had helped her with all the letters and the paperwork. Only when her place was confirmed did she come to me on her way to Kuala Lumpur. Things then passed in a haze. Preparations had to be made and things had to be bought.

 

We visited Uncle Karunakaran's family in Petaling Jaya. His daughters were not at home. Aunty Rema was at home and we stayed there for a while before we left. That was the last time we met Aunty Rema.

 

I took my parents and Sobha to the airport. It was a very sad scene that I can still see unfolding in slow motion. Her flight was called. She walked to the gate and then rushed back in tears and hugged my father. She did not want to go but Dad told her to go and study and pass. I wonder if those words of his registered in her mind but they are unforgetable for me because my father at the best of times is a man of too few words. Mum was sobbing silently.

 

Sobha's departure left a void in my Mum's life and it can be seen in the numerous letters that she wrote to Sobha. On Mum's fiftieth birthday, she sat alone in the porch and composed a letter in which she wrote, "Today is my birthday. I am fifty years old and I feel very lonely because all my children are so far away from me."

 

Not long after Sobha left, my parents made their first visit to the UK in November 1981. They stayed there for almost a year. They made their second and last visit in 1985 and again they stayed for almost a year. The second visit saw the wedding of Sobha and the birth of Shelley.

 

Since Sobha left, we were able to keep up with her life via the photographs she sent home. Initially there were postcards and letters. After that phone calls and the letters stopped.

 

Today, I look at some of the pictures that tell their own tales of where her life has taken her...

My grandfather's first cousin Aunty Rema and her husband Uncle Gengatharan and family were regular visitors and we visited them often when they were living in Bukit Timah, Singapore before moving to the UK in 1974. L-R: Mum, Ligy, Anitha, Aunty Rema. Taken in 1981

L-R: Dad, Not sure, Ligy, Mum, taken in UK in 1981

 

L-R: Sheela, Dad carrying Sheela's son Adam, Sobha and Mum (age 50) in UK, 1981

Sobha and her friend Sheralyn and her baby

“A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life.” -Isadora James

 

Sobha has always loved postcards. I strarted to receive postcards from her when she went on holiday to Scotland and one name kept cropping up - Geoffrey Bowe. Then one day she told us that she was going to marry Geoffrey. My parents were not only very supportive but also very happy.

 

Mum told me that at last she is at peace. Sobha would not be alone in a foreign country. Sheela was in London and Sobha was training in Cumbria, up north not too far from the Scottish border.

 

Then Sobha got married to Geoffrey Bowe.



Sobha and Geoffrey

Sobha, Geoffrey and a person Sobha has to identify for me

Need Sobha's help to caption this photograph

Sobha, Geoffrey and Kathleen Bowe

Then a baby was on its way

Clockwise from Sobha: Sobha, Kathleen Bowe (Geoff's mum) Geoffrey, Krishnan (Sobha's dad) Prasadini (Sobha's mum) Stan (Geoff's dad)

Sobha, Geoff's grandmother Lilly Scottneed Sobha to name them

L-R: Shelley, Sobha, Harish, David Bowe - Geoff's brother

Geoff, Shelley, Harish with Gwen Ryan in the background

Arthur Ryan, Sobha and Harish in 1987

Arthur Ryan, Shelley in red, Prasanna and Sobha in Canterbury in 1987

WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND?

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor You:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.

Christina Rosetti - 1830-1894

When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace And loved your beauty with love false or true But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. - Willaim Butler Yeats