I find it very hard to understand the average Malayalee, though I am allegedly one. ‘Allegedly’ since I have never lived in Kerala, but visit a couple of times a year. Where your parents come from or what language they speak has nothing to do with your ‘native’, as we Indians refer to our homeland within the country; it is, instead, where you grow up and what you speak that determines who you are.
The Malayalee I refer to here is the one who has had his upbringing in Malu-land (hence, his ‘native’ is Kerala) and, while you could accuse me of a male bias when writing, particularly since Kerala has more women than men, it is the men who are the subject of my note. The reason I find the average Malayalee a tricky fellow to cipher is because he a bundle of contradictions. But let me start at the beginning…..
The average Malayalee is, well, average. You will find the odd flash of brilliance here and there, yet, unlike his counterparts in the other southern states, you do not find masses of people who invent wheels, silicon chips and stuff, the way, for instance, TamBrahms do. His (the Malayalee’s) primary skill is in being street smart, which is quite different from being brilliant. Put a Malu into a difficult situation and he will emerge, generally, unscathed, his white Mundu spotless and quartered at half mast, while others around him are on all fours, picking up the pieces. Take him out of Kerala into a hostile desert, charmingly and inappropriately called the ‘Gulf’, and he will work his teeth out to survive first and then prosper, showering that prosperity on his relations back home and building a mansion dressed in the colours of the rainbow. Transplant him now on the moon and, since he has once read of Richard Branson’s space flight plans in the Mathrubhumi, he will set up a tea stall that can brew a local arrack as well. Bangalore’s kirana stores business is dominated by friendly Malu souls who will not hesitate to smile and have a brief social word, while they do their jobs with astonishing zest. Yet, in Kerala, the Malu will do nothing.
This is contradiction number one.
On second thoughts, I am wrong. The Malu does one thing, when in Kerala – he talks. And talks. In the power of speech, he is second to none. He will hold forth, with considerable expertise, his tone expressing disdain, always animated, rarely laudatory, on a vast range of topics, and offer opinions and advice on subjects on which he hasn’t the faintest idea. I have sat silent (no mean achievement, for there is a small part of the Malu in me), while worthies around me have exchanged cogent, contrasting views on genetic mutations in agriculture. Yet, this never translates into action as long as he stays in Kerala. Contradiction number two.
Malu-land is itself a contradiction – the countryside is breathtaking, yet the towns are an urban planner’s concrete nightmare. Everyone recognises this, yet there is an overwhelming rush to convert the country into the town, so much so that the length of Kerala is today one large town, and, as you drive, a breather of the countryside is visible, before the next nightmare appears on the horizon. On the same plane of contradictions, the birth of India’s environment movement was in Kerala (Silent Valley, remember?), yet the State houses some of the most polluting factories in India (including the public sector, Hindustan Insectidies Limited, that makes the dangerous pesticide endosulfan), and is itching to convert most of its forests into hydro dams for the energy needed to light up its gold malls.
The State has an excellent palliative care program that is second to none and a developed network of healthcare. A significant part of this program caters to (and here comes the contradiction) alcoholics. Why I see this as another contradiction is because no one has the will to reduce consumption of liquor (as it adds loads of cash to the State’s coffers), but the State offers the best treatment in this country to one who has drunk enough and more to help the State balance its budget. One Malu army man once proudly told me that you could take a Malu out of Kerala, but cannot take Kerala out of the Malu. I am convinced that the itinerant Malu-on-song uses this argument while nursing his whisky. Contradiction four.
The Kathakali is the epitome of Kerala’s fine culture, an intricate and evolved dance form aesthetic and subtle requiring the viewer’s undivided attention. This is in sharp contrast, of course, to the Kodangallur temple’s annual festival, where large groups of men and women sing the most obscene songs and recite salacious poetry, composed in moments of heightened creative endeavour, with devotional fervour. Contradiction five. I am told that the common link is that practitioners of both forms of art imbibe the local brew for inspiration.
The women of Kerala are apparently amongst the most emancipated (if you go by statistics) and, yet, on the footpaths of its towns and on village trails, there cannot be more hazards for them, as men, drunken or otherwise, showcase their humour in peer company. This definition of emancipation is an oxymoron.
Malu TV is equally fascinating and contradictory; the most involved discussions are on human rights – reviling the US’s presence in Iraq or the role of the French in the Ivory Coast – yet, in Kerala, the human has few rights: on the narrow roads that weave in and out of the towns of Kerala, private buses drive with maniacal disregard for safety, their speed only matched by the tongue lashing served by unsmiling conductors on their customers, a conversation that adds richly to your vocabulary.
And, the last contradiction comes to mind. The Communist Party first came to power as a protector of agriculture labour, its main constituency. Well, today, there is no agriculture labour. Indeed, there is hardly any agriculture, when compared to other states. Kerala imports a huge part of its food, even rice (Palakkad was once the rice bowl for the state). Seasonal labour is imported from Tamil Nadu, since much of the local labour does not exist anymore. If the average Malu is not in the Gulf or outside Kerala, he is, of course, in Kerala. Where he does nothing (refer paragragh three).
Perhaps there are some that I have missed, but you get the gist: this then is the contradiction that is Kerala. I sometimes wonder if the Malu figures these contradictions out in his quick thinking mind. A travelogue I once read on Kerala describes the Malus as a ‘simple people’. If that is true, then I clearly am Pink Floyd.
