Surya Vamsam

By Sivasankari

Through this book, my memoirs, I would like to share with you certain incidents and events that had made me emotional, shocked, angered, elated, depressed and also motivated me to think with the right perception.

I especially would like to narrate to you, the incidents that enhanced my awareness levels, about people and events that brought about a change in my personality and attitude.

I am sure that my memoirs will make interesting reading for you, and I hope you will go through and enjoy all the experiences, and feel all the emotions the way I felt them. Now, if you are wondering why I titled my memoirs as Suryavamsam, please go ahead and read on, you will know the reason.

• Language: Kannada
• Publisher: Pustaka Digital Media
• Release date: Nov 27, 2021
• ISBN: 6580501807731

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Surya Vamsam

Author:

Memoirs of

Sivasankari

Translator Chitradeepa Anantharam

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Digital/Electronic Copyright © by Pustaka Digital Media Pvt. Ltd.

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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

My sincere thanks to…

*. Ms. Chitradeepa Anantharam, my translator, who got involved and completed the project with commitment and interest.

*. Mrs. Malini Seshadri, for enhancing this book with her wonderful editing.

*. Mr. Maalan, my friend of 40 years for his unrelenting support and for the endearing foreword.

*. Dr. N. Sridharan, for his excellent proof reading.

*. M.C.S.Communications for the beautiful cover design

*. Last but not the least Mr. T. Ramanathan, of Vanathi Pathippakam for bringing out my memoirs as an elegant book form.

Foreword

It is an arduous task to define or depict Sivasankari. Like the proverbial elephant among blind men, hardly anyone has described her personality fully. To millions of her readers, she is their favourite writer who touched their life, heart and soul. Those who dwell on the literary sphere remember her for her magnum opus Knit India Through Literature, a compendium of Indian literature. It presents the outlook of literary legends in 18 languages, through her fascinating interviews with award winning writers and insights through their stories and Sivasankari chronicles the evolution of literature of every language.

When she writes lyrics and set them to classical Ragas she sounds gentle and mellifluous and, she also surprises everyone around when she embarks on adventures in paragliding and scuba diving. An avid traveler and a culinary expert, Sivasankari is a silent philanthropist donating rupees one crore every alternate year to the deserving. She has been a vociferous activist against drug abuse and alcoholism since the early 80s. She has played the role of benevolent mentor to many and is a genial colleague of mine. Yes, it is difficult to depict the personality of Sivasankari. She is a phenomenon. To me, she is a genuine person brimming with the confidence of the self, concern and empathy for fellow human beings and cares for the world around her.

In this context, her latest work, Surya Vamsam, the first-person account of her journey, gains greater significance. This is not her autobiography, but a memoir. Though a memoir, like an autobiography, is a format to tell one's life story, there is a subtle difference between the two. A memoir focuses on reflection and establishing an emotional connection, rather than simply narrating the facts around their life. Memoirs unfold to us the writer's experiences and the story about the private or public happenings in one's life. Through Surya Vamsam, Sivasankari excels in establishing an intimate and emotional bonding with her readers. This book is an honest account of Sivasankari's various emotions: her hopes on humans, optimism amidst cynicism, pains over betrayals, disappointments of misplaced trusts, amusements that our society perpetually offers, the joy of familial love, disgust when cheated, the excitement of adventures, ecstasies born out of pleasant surprises, and of course agonies of personal loss.

Sivasankari's memoir unfolds in two parts: First one on her metamorphosis and the other on spreading her wings. Both parts together present not just the evolution of an innocent child into an acclaimed author, but also the transformation society has gone through in the seven decades. The anecdotes, narrated vividly by Sivasankari, provide a glimpse of life in Chennai city, the customs, rituals and culture seven decades ago. And also how the society has changed over a period of time wrote The Hindu, on the launch of Tamil version of Surya Vamsam in 2019.

For those who have read her outstanding novel Paalangal (Bridges) her masterly craft in depicting in detail the customs and rituals of three different generations would not be new. But what surprised me was the trigger to write this work. I am well aware that her intention was not to blow her own trumpet as she is already decorated with coveted awards (To mention a few: Bharatiya Basha Parishad award, Tami Annai Award (from Tamil University) Premchand Rashtriya Sahitya Samman,(Rashtriya Hindi Academy) Bharathi Award (Tamilnadu Government) Gopichand Literary award). She is one of the writers, who primarily write in a language that is not English, revered outside the boundaries of India. She was invited under International Writers Program and International Visitors Program in 1986 by Iowa University. She is one of the four writers whose works were recorded in their voices for the Archives of U.S. Library Congress to mark its Bicentennial Celebrations. Her popularity and her stature in the literary sphere is unmatched and doesn't need any promotion.

Then what is the prompt for this book? It all began from a conversation Sivasankari had with celebrated American writer Alex Haley. Sivasankari narrates Haley encounter: ‘In the year 1986, I was invited by the United States of America to participate in the International Writing Programme at Iowa city. For three months, I spent valuable time with 21 writers from 21 different nationalities. This camp was a great learning experience for all of us and we also got the opportunity to meet and interact with well-known writers, who came to give a talk at the camp. It was at this programme I got to know the famous black American writer Alex Haley. His book, Roots: The saga of an American family, was a best-seller worldwide.’

‘The book is the story of an adolescent black boy, who goes in search of his ancestors, his roots. As I had already read the book, I was in awe of him and heaped praises on his colossal work. The words he uttered in response still reverberate in my mind.’ Americans who came to the continent of Africa captured my ancestors either by drugging them or by striking them unconscious, dragged them to the ship with their hands and legs tied up. They were all stacked up like sardines in the ship and transported to America. To sever their ties with families and bonding with their children, they ruthlessly separated families. Husband, wife and their offspring were sent off to different locations and auctioned separately, Alex told me.

‘Many have also grown up without knowing our roots. We knew nothing about our parents or their respective parents. This affected me during my growing up years. The urge to go after my ancestry resulted in my book said, Haley. But what he told me after that changed my outlook.’ Sivasankari. We writers have a responsibility. It is indeed sad that the next generation is not greatly bothered about ancestors and the awareness is still less. How can we accept this? We are responsible to bring in the right understanding among our children. And we should t tell them to hug their grandparents and thank them for the genes transferred to them. We must share our experience, pain and agony with the younger generation, and sensitize them. Every individual must know about their lineage, understand what tribulations and misfortune their forefathers experienced during their times.

A youngster may be an excellent singer, talented in playing a musical instrument or be a successful sportsperson. Someone in his or her family be it his mom or his dad, or their parents must have been gifted in music or sports. Somewhere in the line of ancestry, there could have been a musician and those genes could be transferred to him or her. Our looks and talents are not only inherited from our parents but derived from many generations before them. This knowledge has to be imparted to the younger generations. When you return to India, please take up the task of educating the youth on this issue. Create this Awareness and sensitize them. ‘His sincere plea turned out to be an overwhelming experience for me. I was thoroughly motivated to go in search of my roots and find out who my ancestors were. I regretted not paying enough attention to this all these years of my life.’

‘The pain, agony, trauma and disgrace experienced by Alex Haley, haunted me. I have never had any such experiences in my life. I was living a well-protected and secured life, and basking in the love showered by my family. It is when you are exposed to extreme hot weather, that you will understand the value of shade. I was never directly under harsh Sun. Because of the comfortable and safe life that I had been leading, I never bothered to trace my roots or understand the value of ancestry. When the awareness imparted by Haley dawned on me, I felt ashamed and regretted my ignorance all these years, and it was with this mindset, with the urge to unravel about my forefathers, that I returned to India.’

Sivasankari has roots to cherish about. Her ancestors are erudite scholars. One of them was a Supreme Court judge. Her uncle was an illustrious doctor. Her father was a successful and renowned chartered accountant. And apart from her pedigree, she had more blessings to count on. The best among them was her childhood. She grew up in joint family surroundings with abundant love coming from everyone. Particularly, she was the darling of her father, who would take her for a drive keeping her on his lap when she was a toddler. He gifted her when she was hardly four, her first pet. It was not a puppy or a kitten, but a deer calf!

Once when he was leaving to audit his client's tea estates, he asked his loving daughter, as would any father going outstation would ask, Jibu, what do you want me to bring when I come back home? She answered innocently, Appa get me a deer On the following night while she was asleep, she realised somebody was pulling her hair. When she opened her eyes, she found a deer calf, nibbling the jasmine flowers tucked in her plait!

Unlike many who take to writing in their teens, Sivasankari arrived at the literary arena when she was around 25 years old. But since then, she has had a prolific output. In her literary career that spans over five decades, she has authored 36 novels, 150 short stories, 48 novellas, 15 travelogues, and two biographies. She has scaled greater heights in her career by not only producing excellent literary works but also has been fortunate to get to know and interact with many luminous personalities.

But Surya Vamsam, which means daughter of a blazing sun, is unique among all her works. In a cursory glance it would read like an account of a journey of a celebrated writer. On a deep analysis, one would find it as a record of the societal values that prevailed 70 years ago.

Prompted by Hailey Sivasankari found not only her roots but the flowers and fruits of a time to which a generation belongs.

Happy reading!

Maalan

Author & senior journalist

August, 2021

PART 1

THE METAMORPHOSIS

Chapters

1. My roots

2. Subbuswamy Thatha, Sankari Patti

3. Appa, Amma and Us

4. Nostalgia

5. Moments of embarrassment

6. Memorable celebrations

7. My role models

8. Travels with family

9. Teenage years

10. Appa my role model, Ammu my friend

11. Brutus and Sabena

12. Ode to my pets

13. My Teenage Years

14. My College days

15. Chandra and his family

16. Our life at Bhopal

17. Beginning of the long journey

18. First National City Bank Days

19. My first novel My first US trip

20. The Metamorphosis

21. Our Villupuram days

22. In Chandra’s footsteps

Preface

Vanakkam Suryavamsam.

Looking at the title of this book, many of you may assume that this is a historic novel. No, it is not. Is this a novel with a social perspective? Again, no. A travelogue maybe? Definitely not. Then what is this book about? Well, before I go further, I wish to talk about two persons who were responsible for my venturing to write Suryavamsam. Let me begin by introducing them.

Lalitha was known to everyone who knew me. She was with me, part of my life, for almost 41 years. I got to know her when I was living in Villupuram. She was a college student and an ardent reader of my writings. Your writing has impacted me so much that I have started imagining you as my Amma. Please allow me to call you Amma, Lalitha said. I retorted, I am not your mother Lalitha. You have a biological mother. I can accept you only as a very good reader of my works and let us stop there. The reason I refused to have her address me as Amma was that I did not want to hurt the feelings of her mother.

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WITH LALITHA

But Lalitha’s love and affection were boundless. Hers was unconditional love. She would never expect anything in return and was adamant in calling me Amma. You are my Amma, she would say, and she continued to call me that way. But, for my part, in those first years of our acquaintance, I looked upon her only as an ardent admirer of my writings.

The passing away of my husband Chandrasekhar resulted in a huge transformation within me concerning my relationship with Lalitha. In our community, there is a ritual where the daughter has to bathe the dead body of the father; but because we had no children, the over 100 people who had assembled at the funeral that day were wondering who was going to do this for Chandra. That was when Lalitha made the decision. She quickly went and poured water on herself as was required by custom, took a pot of water and gently bathed Chandra. Lalitha’s parents witnessed this, and everyone there was stunned by her gesture. How beautiful! How heartfelt! From that moment, I wholeheartedly accepted Lalitha as my daughter.

She was also my very efficient secretary. She would take notes of whatever I communicated to her and type them out neatly. As she had a keen interest in literature, she was able to transcribe my ideas accurately. Above all, she was my constant companion. Wherever I went, be it shopping, cinema, temple, weddings, events or visits to friends, Lalitha would accompany me. She would enjoy and appreciate everything around her. Over the course of time, we became so close that we could discuss/argue personal matters with no hesitation. Lalitha played many roles in my life, daughter, friend, companion, secretary, and close confidant, all rolled into one.

There were times when Lalitha told me Amma, I have the privilege of always being the first to read what you write. I feel so honoured and proud. During the past couple of years, Lalitha repeatedly expressed a deep desire of hers. She told me, Amma you must write your autobiography. You know why? Because your thoughts and your life have inspired me, your thinking and words have transformed me and made me what I am today. I believe they can do the same for many others and they can benefit, just as I have benefitted.

I was not convinced. Writing an autobiography is no joke. It has to be a genuine narration. And if I attempt it, I may have to come out with certain ugly truths, even tear the masks off some of the people I have encountered in my life, and end up hurting them. It is not my intention to hurt anyone’s feelings with my autobiography, so I won't do it. Therefore, my dear Lalitha, an autobiography is out of the question.Every time I said this Lalitha would be crestfallen. But she was relentless in pushing the idea. Amma I understand you have your reservations about writing your autobiography. How about memoirs? You can narrate only the best of your memories and skip the ones that you don't wish to write about. Your vast experience and learnings can inspire those who read it, she insisted. But I was still not convinced, and remained adamant in my refusal.

In 2017, my dear Lalitha was diagnosed with stage four cancer. The disease had already advanced and spread from her stomach to her liver. I was completely shattered. This was something I had never expected, and I could not accept it. Lalitha had always been hale and healthy, energetically doing so many tasks for me around the clock. There have been days when she used to stay on till late at night, ride back home on her scooter and return the next day recharged with boundless energy and enthusiasm. How could cancer get its claws into her? I was in a state of disbelief. We writers use phrases such as, On hearing the news, I broke into pieces. That day, I experienced that feeling of falling apart. Yes, Lalitha’s diagnosis of cancer broke me into pieces. I was shattered.

Surgery, chemotherapy, radiation ...Lalitha had to undergo every kind of treatment, and no words can describe the physical, mental and emotional agony that my dear Lalitha went through. Even at such agonizing times, Lalitha would put on a smiling face all the time. I will be perfectly all right, Amma. I will bounce back. And you know what, Amma, as long as you are alive, I shall stay on too. In fact, my prayer is that I must linger till I bid farewell to you and then follow you.

But the team of oncologists who were treating her never gave me such hopes. The cancer had advanced, and on 9th February 2018, she breathed her last. Her death carved a void in my soul, and for months her voice and her wish that I must write at least a memoir kept haunting me. At around the same time, God sent Meenakshi, the editor of Mangayar Malar, to offer a solution to assuage my agony. Madam, why don’t you write something for our magazine? She asked. She had known Lalitha well. Would you consider writing your memoirs, as Lalitha was pleading with you to do?

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WITH MEENAKSHI

I have never learnt to use a Tamil keyboard, and all these years I have done all my writing only by hand. Lalitha was the one who used to type out all my writings. Apart from that, my handwriting was so illegible that only Lalitha could understand it. Without Lalitha, how was I going to manage? Even as I was lost in thought about this, Meenakshi interrupted and came up with a suggestion. We can do it with audio recordings. You keep talking. I will record it, transcribe it and bring it to you for corrections and editing.

I thought that was a great idea. So, as the story goes, inspired by Lalitha and motivated by Meenakshi, and to honour the wishes of thousands of my readers, who were requesting me to resume writing again, I made up my mind to write my memoirs.

There have been many events and incidents in my life that have been overwhelming, exciting, thrilling, hurtful, shameful, moving, shocking and motivating. Above all, certain incidents have been very enlightening and I believe these have helped me to become a better person with the right perspective and awareness. I am confident that the wonderful people you will meet in this book, and the interesting and unusual events I describe in it will hold your interest. If it evokes positive energy in you, as it did for me in living these experiences and writing about them, no one will be more pleased than my dear Lalitha.

So now, coming back to the title of the book, Suryavamsam… The significance of it will dawn upon you as you traverse through the pages. Let us begin.

Sivasankari

Chennai

October 2019

1. My roots

The year 1986 holds great significance for me. That year I was invited for an international visitors programme by the United States government and also by the University of Iowa to participate in an International Writing Programme at Iowa City. The three months I spent with 21 writers from 21 different nations were immensely valuable. The camp was a great learning experience for all of us, especially since we got the opportunity to interact with well-known writers who were invited as guest speakers. It was at this programme that I made the acquaintance of the celebrated black American writer, Alex Haley. His book, Roots: The saga of an American family, had become a best-seller worldwide. It is the story of an adolescent black boy born in America who goes in search of his African roots. As I had already read the book, I was in awe of him. But when I tried to express my admiration of his colossal work, he responded with words that still reverberate in my mind.

Alex said, "Americans came to the continent of Africa by sea, captured my ancestors after either drugging them or striking them unconscious, and dragged them onto their ships with their hands and legs tied up. They were all stacked up like sardines in the ship and transported to America. In order to sever family ties and bonding with children, they ruthlessly split up families. Husband, wife and children were sent off to different locations and auctioned separately.

Like me, many have grown up with no knowledge of their roots. We did not make any attempts to really know and understand our parents and their parents. This affected me during my growing years. The urge to trace my ancestry was what led me to write this book.

What he went on to say made a deep impression on me and led me to introspect. Sivasankari, we writers have a responsibility. It is very sad that the next generation is not greatly bothered about their ancestors and are hardly aware of their past. How can we accept this? We elders should take the responsibility of creating this awareness in our children. Children should feel the urge to hug their grandparents in gratitude for the lineage they have passed on. We must share our experiences, our pain and agony with the younger generation, and sensitise them. Everyone should know about their roots, what their forefathers did, and what tribulations and misfortunes they experienced in their lives.

He went on to expand on his argument: A youngster may be an excellent singer, or show talent in playing a musical instrument or be a successful sportsperson. Someone in his or her family, maybe his mother or father, or maybe someone in an earlier generation, must have been similarly gifted. The genes that carry that particular talent may have been transferred from an unknown ancestor. Our appearance and talents are inherited not only from our parents but from many generations before them. This knowledge has to be imparted to the younger generations. When you return to India, please take up this task of educating the youth on this issue. Create this awareness and sensitise them.

His sincere plea turned out to be a deeply moving experience for me. I was thoroughly motivated to go in search of my roots and find out who my ancestors were. I regretted not having paid enough attention to this matter all these years of my life.

I felt haunted by the thought of all that pain, agony, trauma and disgrace that Alex Haley describes in his book. I have never had any such experiences. I was living a protected and secure life, and basking in the love showered on me by my family. It is when you are exposed to extremely hot weather, that you will understand the value of shade. I was never directly under a harsh sun. Because of the comfort and safety of the life I had been leading, I had never bothered to trace my roots or understand the value of my ancestry. When the awareness imparted by Haley dawned on me, I felt ashamed and regretted my ignorance of my heritage. It was with this mindset, with the urge to seek and discover my own roots that I returned to India.

Ironically, I had earlier written a novel titled Paalangal,_meaning ‘Bridges’, which was the result of the extensive research I undertook from the late 70s till the early 80s. It spans more than a century and three generations, tracing the changes that occurred during those years. It is possible that some of you have read that book. I went to Sathanur village, near Thanjavur, where my eldest Athai_father's sister_ and many elders from her family lived. My mission was to understand the changes that had occurred in our particular community with regard to lifestyle, rituals and values, across generations. Listening to descriptions of joint family dynamics in a time and place with no electricity was an eye-opener to me. My research went on for months and years, and in the process, I gathered information on various aspects of life in different periods in time. My novel incorporated all the insights I had gathered.

Today, in retrospect, I am wondering why I did not unravel the roots of my own family when I was painstakingly collecting material for my novel. I could have very well have asked those same elders, with whom I spent so much time on my research, to tell me about my own ancestors. But this idea never struck me. What a costly omission!

By the time this awareness dawned, after my interaction with Alex Haley, most of the elders of the family had departed this world. How was I going to find out about my ancestors? Who would know? I knew a little about my paternal and maternal grandparents, but almost nothing about the generations before theirs.

Once, during a casual conversation, I came to know about a significant incident that took place in our family almost four generations ago. When I was a young girl, my mother and all the daughters-in-law of the household used to gather and conduct a prayer event annually. It was a solemn and elaborate ritual called Pachhai Padaikarathu _an offering made to the Goddesses Uggira Kali and Maariamman, warrior goddess and guardian deity, respectively, widely worshipped by the villagers. There is a story behind our family ritual of Pachhai Padaikarathu and it is directly related to an incident that happened four generations ago. I dug deeper and started extracting information from my mother and my aunts. I managed to gather some interesting facts.

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STORY OF KALAHASTI THATHA

Four generations ago, our great grandfather Kalahasthi was an Ashtavadhani, that is, someone who is well versed in eight different fields of knowledge such as music, astrology, astronomy, mathematics, science and so on. Because of these skills that he possessed, he rose to the level of Diwan _advisor, at the court of a princely state, Kalpathi, in the present-day Kerala. Kalahasti Thatha and his wife lived a comfortable and prosperous life; yet they had a problem to face.

As the Diwan, he had gradually become a close confidant of the feudal lord, and that did not go down well with the others in his court. They had ganged up and were plotting against him. Can you guess how they tried to ruin him?

Every time my great grandmother became pregnant, they aborted the foetus.

How? In those days, menstruating women were not allowed to stay within the house but would go into a small hut within the compound. They were isolated and were given separate mats, plates and glasses, and they were not even supposed to be heard from during those days. They had to literally hide and not even be spotted by anyone. Other women in the household would just provide them with food and water. Every time Patti got her periods, she would go into this hut and seclude herself, making it obvious to everyone around that she was menstruating. When my Patti did not go into seclusion, it was a signal that she probably was pregnant. The evil-minded people who were jealous of my grandfather used to resort to witchcraft and abort her foetus. It seems this happened to Patti a couple of times.

Initially, Kalahasti Thatha did not pay much attention to this. But the gossips reached his ears eventually and he decided to deal with it. He came up with an idea, and the next time Patti conceived, he made sure she went to the seclusion hut, just to mislead the people around into thinking she had got her period. Patti stayed in the hut for three days, and this pattern continued for the next three months. Once her pregnancy was confirmed, his desire to save his unborn child made Thatha flee the place. He abandoned his house and property and all his belongings and left in the middle of the night with his pregnant wife. All he took with him were some gold coins hidden at the bottom of a pot filled with bran.

After walking the whole night, they would reach either a Maariamman or a Kaaliamman temple by dawn, and would hide there and rest. They sought refuge in such temples dedicated to a guardian deity or a village goddess, because people of their community did not visit such temples in those days, and therefore the chance of being spotted by potential ill-wishers was very slight. In this manner, they would walk during the night and rest in temples during the day. Finally they reached Madurai. It was here that my great grandmother delivered her first child.

As they had received divine protection during their most difficult days,

Kalahasti Thatha decided to thank the goddess Maariamman by beginning the tradition of Pachhai padaikkarathu, which had not been practiced earlier in our families. This continued in my father’s generation also. I remember this ritual being conducted with immense devotion and piety in our household during my childhood.

I tried to recollect this Pachhai padaikkarathu ritual and vaguely remembered some details. A wide variety of special food items, prepared by the women of the house, were offered to the Goddess. What was most astonishing was that Suruttu (cigar) and Sarayam (alcohol) were offered as well. I have never seen the men in my family smoke or drink, and I used to find this very odd, and at the same time intriguing.

Once I asked Amma You seem to know some things about Kalahasti Thatha, then why don't you tell me about the generations after him too, My mother replied that she had no information about them. Probably if I had asked my father before he passed away, he would have shared some information. Of course, my father had told me a little about Subbuswamy Thatha (my paternal grandfather) and Sankari Patti (my paternal grandmother). It is a kind of tradition in South India to give a grandmother’s name to granddaughters in the family. As it happened, the same tradition existed in my family as well, and therefore Sankari was a common suffix_Bala Sankari, Sethu Sankari, Santha Sankari. and me, Sivasankari.

Subbuswamy Thatha was a man of learning. He had a BA degree and worked in a British India company. He had a good education and business knowledge and therefore he was much in demand by employers. In those days it was the practice to marry very young, and Thatha was no exception. When he took up employment after his degree, he already had four children. He named his eldest son, my Periyappa, Kalahasti, after his great-grandfather. Next were my aunts Meenakshi and Subbulakshmi, and then my second Periyappa _Kalyanasundaram. Patti was hardly 18 or 19 years old, and Thatha was 27 or 28, when she conceived her fifth child.

During that time, something significant happened. Those were the days when there was no electricity in households. Sankari Patti was fast asleep in the middle of the night, when she thought she heard her mother-in-law calling out her name. She got up and opened the back door, went out into the backyard, and walked towards the well. It was pitch dark and no one was in sight. Patti was naturally shaken by this experience. It is believed that it was during this occurrence that Patti was possessed by a spirit.

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STORY OF SANKARI PATTI

No one suspected anything initially, but over a period of time, there was a remarkable change in Patti’s behaviour. Patti had never been to school, but after she became possessed, she started uttering slokas, poems and verses, and even singing in Sanskrit. She would eat huge quantities of food and often be seen sitting up in the loft, talking in a man’s voice and laughing loudly. The family members, realising something was wrong, decided to take her to Gunaseelam temple to exorcise the spirit that had possessed her. When SubbuswamyThatha took her to Gunaseelam, the priest who conducted the exorcism ritual tried to converse with the spirit who inhabited her.

‘Why are you troubling this young woman? She is pregnant with her fifth child. Do you understand the trauma the family has been going through? She already has the responsibility of raising four small children so why don't you just leave her?’ asked the priest.

I am Muneeswaran and I wanted to teach this family a lesson because they failed to worship me, said the spirit, speaking through Sankari Patti.

The priest said, Please do not harm her, she is an expectant mother. We will appease you by doing what you wish.

Then name the child after me, came the voice.

Subbuswamy Thatha was very worried. He hesitantly said in a soft voice, In our community, we do not use names like that.

The spirit inside Patti laughed thunderously and declared, Are you not aware that I am also an aspect of the Sun God? Don't you know that I have another name, Suryanarayana? Give your child that name, the voice commanded.

Thatha agreed, and the spirit left Sankari Patti’s body.

After this Sankari Patti recovered, and a few months later delivered her fifth child, a boy, who was named Suryanarayanan, as promised. This fifth child of SubbuswamyThatha and Sankari Patti was my father. I am Suryanarayanan’s daughter, therefore Surya Puthri. So, do you now understand why the title of my memoirs is Suryavamsam?

2. Subbuswamy Thatha, Sankari Patti

Subbuswamy Thatha was an excellent student. Even in those days he had gone to college and obtained a BA degree. In the British company in which he worked he was known for his diligence, sincerity and dedication to work. This was why, as a gesture of appreciation, he was invited to the Princely State of Mysore, where he worked as superintendent in the commerce department. Highly impressed with his skills and talents, the Princely State wished to send him to England for further training. Subbuswamy Thatha did not want to leave his motherland and his family; he politely turned it down.

When Thatha was in Mysore, his neighbour was none other than Sir Visvesvaraya, the noted civil engineer and statesman who went on to receive the Bharat Ratna from the Government of India. He oversaw the construction of many landmark buildings and large dams in the state. Thatha and Visvesvaraya were best friends.

Family members remembered that my eldest aunt’s second son’s birth and Thatha’s death happened around the same period; going by this, Subbuswamy Thatha passed away some time in 1918 or 1919. Subbuswamy Thatha had nine children, five sons and four daughters. Everyone known to the family used to comment to my Patti, You have begotten five sons like Pancha Pandavas, the great kings of the Mahabharatha. You are blessed.

At this point, let me introduce you to some of the members of my family. Please bear with me, as it will help you understand the relationships and their relevance to my narration. Also when I refer to them, you will easily understand the context.

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SUBBUSWAMI THATHA WITH FAMILY

The first child of Subbuswamy Thatha and Sankari Patti was a son, Kalahasti, my eldest uncle. Their next child was my Meenakshi Athai, whom we all adored. When Meenakshi Athai was born, Thatha was working in Madurai. His British employers gifted a wooden cradle for the new born baby as she was the first girl child for Thatha. Since she was born in Madurai, she was named Meenakshi, after the presiding deity of Madurai. Meenamba, as everyone affectionately called her, was the pillar of the family. Whatever events happened in the family, there would be a sigh of relief when Meenaba Athai arrived, as she would take charge of the situation. When there was to be a celebration, she would be the first person to wake up as early as 3 a.m. and wake all the others, make preparations for rituals to be conducted, and oversee each and every aspect under her watchful eyes. She was a loving and highly talented person. After her was born Subbalakshmi Athai. The popular Tamil writer Vaasanthi, also known as Pankajam, is this Athai’s granddaughter. Vaasanthi is older than I am, but in the family tree I belong to her mother’s generation. How? Because in those days it was common for the mother and daughter to get pregnant and deliver around the same time. It was nothing unusual for the mother’s child and the daughter’s child to grow up together.

After Subba Athai came another son, Kalyana Sundaram, my second Periyappa.. He became a well known doctor, and mentored young doctors who went on to become leaders of their profession, such as Dr. K.V. Thiruvengadam, Dr Arjun Das and many others. Among his circle he was known and celebrated as ‘Professor’. His was an untimely death, when he was still quite young. We referred to him by a special name. When the telephone service was launched, he was one of the earliest to get a connection and used to keep saying hello, hello often. And so…he became ‘Hello Appa’! Our Hello Appa’s wife was Jayalakshmi Manni (Manni..Elder brother’s wife) and they had three children. Very soon after the wedding of their eldest daughter Raji, Manni passed away. Out of the blue, Hello Appa also died of a heart attack not long afterwards. After the untimely deaths of his brother and brother’s wife, my father took their children, his niece and nephew, under his wings. These cousins, Hello Appa’s son Mani Anna and his daughter Meena lived with us till they got married. I cannot imagine such an arrangement in the current generation in families. But when I think of it, I feel proud, elated and amazed by the supportive joint family system which existed then.

When we went anywhere with our cousins everyone who did not know us assumed that we were siblings. Such was our love and bonding. Meena called my Amma ‘Manni’. Once our cook wanted to know why, while all the other children called my mother ‘Amma’, only the middle daughter called her ‘Manni’. Just see how tactful my mother was. Without winking an eyelid she said, When Meena was growing up she was very close to her cousin, who was calling me ‘Manni’. So Meena also started calling me that way.

After Hello Appa, the next child in Thatha’s family was my Appa, Suryanarayanan a.k.a Suri. Then came Venkatraman, whom we fondly called Venganna Chithappa, and then Cauvery Athai, followed by Gopalakrishnan, Gopanna to us children. The last child was Visalam Athai. I am still wondering why we all suffixed Anna to the younger uncles’ names instead of just Chithappa (father’s younger brother). Gopanna worked as a mining officer at the coal mines at Dhanbhad, in Bihar, and he would make an annual visit to Chennai to spend time with all of us. We children eagerly looked forward to his visits, and there was a good reason for that. Gopanna would meticulously plan the vacation, and take us on visits to different places every day. We have pleasant memories of visiting the Light House, the Zoo, the Museum, Elliots Beach and various other spots in the city with him. I have climbed to the top of the light house numerous times. Those memories are etched in my mind.

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SANKARI PATTI

Let me now tell you a little about Sankari Patti. Patti was very, very smart. She had an amazing memory and was quick to learn everything. Those were the days when only wood or coal was used for cooking, and so it was a time-consuming process. Thatha was in the habit of bringing home a bunch of friends for lunch all of a sudden. Patti being the smart woman she was would whip up a feast in just about an hour. Not just that, she would quickly wipe the cooking vessels clean of carbon smears, making them sparkle. Guests would wonder where the cooking was done. Was it in her kitchen or elsewhere? Or did she have it delivered from the neighbour’s house. That tells you a lot about what a perfectionist she was.

Venganna’s daughter Shanthi once told me something about Patti which no one else in the family knew. She said she got it from her father, and so I think it must be true. When Subbuswamy Thatha passed away, his family was in dire straits for money. Only my eldest Athai was married at that time, and the family had to survive with no regular income. But Patti was steadfast in her policy of not seeking any assistance from her father or her brothers. She somehow managed to feed all her children; she started using earthenware vessels for cooking and coconut shells to store food. She was a very brave and remarkable woman who steadfastly held on to her self-respect and pride. Her children, who had witnessed her resourcefulness and courage, held her in great respect. Even when they became adults, they never defied her. I have heard other family member’s remark that Patti was a very shrewd woman who ruled the roost in her household with great authority.

Even though my Patti had many admirable qualities, she also behaved like a typical mother-in-law, with all the behavior traits that are commonly attributed to that status. The daughters-in-law had to abide by her rules. They were not supposed to stand and talk in front of her, leave alone express any opinions. This was the oppressive and autocratic attitude she had towards the women who had married her sons. While her other sons took up jobs outside Madras after they completed their education, and even settled there, my father and Hello Appa alone stayed with Patti. So quite naturally, it was my Amma and my Jayalakshmi Manni, who bore the brunt ofPatti’s tyrannical rule, and suffered much. She established herself as the supreme matriarch of the household and ensured that her daughters-in-law did just what she told them to do.

Jayalakshmi Manni was particularly fond of vegetable dishes. Her favourite dishes were brinjals sauteed in sesame oil with spices, and roasted vegetables in general. It was the rule in Patti’s household that the younger women folk could eat only after the men and the elder women had eaten. But the problem was that Patti was least concerned about whether there was sufficient food and vegetables left for the daughters-in-law. Once Jayalakshmi Manni wrapped a vegetable preparation in a banana leaf and hid it in the charcoal drum in the backyard. When everyone had eaten, she quietly went and brought it in to share with my mother. My youngest Athai spotted this. She went straight to Patti and declared dramatically, Amma, you know what? Your daughter-in-law Jayalakshmi has been hiding dishes in the backyard and eating them happily when you are not noticing. You can imagine Patti’s reaction! Shameless woman, can you not control your desires?, Patti vented her spleen at her daughters-in-law throughout that day. Even after decades, the memory of it made my mother very sad. Do you know how insulted we both felt when your grandmother screamed at us? she said to me in sorrow.

Sankari Patti’s harassment took other forms as well. She ordered that only one matchstick was to be used for the entire day’s cooking. If any of the daughters-in-law used an extra matchstick, Patti would scold her harshly, calling her irresponsible and unsuitable for running a family. It so happened that once when Amma was cooking, she was badly in need of one more match stick. But she was terrified to ask Sankari Patti, so she just stood there in the kitchen and started crying. Amma’s father Rajaraman Iyer, on a visit to meet his daughter, had just arrived at the entrance to the house. He hesitated on the threshold, because he was also wary of Patti, his sammandhi Amma. Just then, he heard Patti shouting insults at his daughter from the living room. How dare you ask for a second matchstick? How can you be so careless? How can a woman be so irresponsible? You think I pluck money from trees? Rajaraman Thatha who was listening to all this, felt very sorry for his daughter, but also totally helpless. He just wished he could go to a shop, get some match boxes and give them to his daughter so that she would not have to face such a tirade. But no, the situation was too tense. He turned and left without meeting his daughter, feeling utterly miserable. This is just one example out of numerous instances when Patti mistreated her daughters-in-law.

As my mother was living under a kind of military regime of my Patti, her talents had to be secretly nurtured. I still find it totally astonishing to think about how she did this. Amma was a natural story teller. She was also blessed with a mellifluous voice and sang beautifully. At one point she started writing short stories secretly. The women were isolated in a separate room during their menstrual cycle, or sent to their parents’ home for those three days. Amma made the best use of those three days. When she went to her parents’ home she brought back paper and pencil and also needle and colour threads for embroidery. When she had to spend the days in the menstrual room, Amma would take these items with her into the room and start writing her stories. But she dared not bring her work out of that room, so she started sliding these papers into the spaces in between the wooden rafters of the ceiling. Other women of the family who went into that room when they got their periods read her stories and used to praise Amma, Manni we read your stories. You write so well. But alas Even this did not continue for long.

When my youngest aunt went into the room, she read the stories written by my mother. She told Patti, Look what your daughter-in-law has been doing...she has been writing stories while sitting in the menstrual room, she complained to her mother. Patti was furious. She marched into the room, removed all the papers left there by Amma and tore them into pieces. She turned upon Amma in a rage. How dare you write stories? You are a married woman in a decent family. How did you pick up such a habit? Patti spat venomous words at Amma. Amma herself told me about this incident. My Patti, a talented and a bold lady who raised her nine children without anyone's support, never treated her daughters-in-law well. This is something none of us understood, and remains an unsolved riddle to this day.

After I reached adolescence and started going to college, I once asked my father, Appa, Patti has treated Jayalakshmi Manni and Amma so badly and disrespectfully. You were educated and were employed in a good position. Why didn’t you ever confront your mother and tell her that what she was doing was wrong? Why did it never occur to you that you could have requested your mother to treat your wife better? Appa did not reply immediately. After a brief silence he said. I really don’t know. During those days everyone was behaving like that. We also assumed that it was something normal. Whatever elders did or said, we accepted it as the right thing. I never realised that what my mother did was wrong. Just like Lord Rama obeyed his father Dasaratha with no questions asked and accepted banishment from the kingdom for 14 years, I suppose we also obeyed our mother blindly.

The two completely contrasting traits of my Patti’s personality intrigued me. On the one hand she was a courageous and shrewd woman with immense self-respect, but she was also a cruel and ruthless mother-in-law. I still find it difficult to reconcile these characteristics of hers. Those of you who have watched the Tamil film, Nayagan, directed by Mani Ratnam, may very well remember