Time changes, Time
progresses
Enslaves with pleasures of body and mind
Discards in a trice our old and the infirm
Time, the great healer, is not at all kind.
- Anon
The biggest change which overtook Indian society in the mid-twentieth society was the collapse of the joint family system. The change was so abrupt that many who lived under its umbrella were overnight left, unprepared and defenceless, to fend for themselves. My uncle was one such victim.
Uncle was totally dependent on Father, having opted in his youth to leave school and stay with us, unmarried, as a member of our family. When Father died and we moved to Calcutta where my eldest brother was working, we left him behind at Quilon, our native town in Kerala. Many years later, twenty five to be exact, it was during a visit to my wife's parents at Ernakulam that I decided to go to Quilon to see Uncle.
If you have been to different parts of India and then return to Kerala, the first thing you will notice is the lush greenery and the virility and enterprise of its people. The long coastline and the backwater lakes jutting in from the sea are also unique features of this state, not to speak of the incessant monsoon rains.
So when I started for Quilon by bus, I was in for a visual treat - the sea or the lakes were on one side and greenery on the other. Most of the long-distance buses follow this coastal route. I had only a vague idea of Quilon, but when I reached there, had no difficulty in locating the school near which Uncle stayed.
Going by the side of this school I entered well-known territory. The sight and smell of water hyacinth in the Ashtamudi Lake was very familiar to us when we were small. The road by its side would lead to the Anandavalleeswasri Temple, also called Anandavalleeswaram. As a child, I had trodden this path many a time with my parents who were ardent devotees, so much so that my younger sister was named after the deity of that temple.
A turn on the road took me to the street in front of the rented house where we had lived. This street had not changed a bit! There were rows of tiny shops, tile-roofed, on either side. These, as in the olden days, were shuttered at night by vertical wooden planks marked 1, 2, 3, etc.
Opposite our house, in a big mansion, there used to live a zamindar's family. Gangadharan, a young scion of this family, did not have much education. He spent all his time sitting on a bench in the tailor's shop adjacent to our house, reading Malayala Rajyam, the daily newspaper. He would go in-between only for food or to attend calls of nature! He was also known as swarna pallan, for he had a golden tooth right in front.
I peeped into the tailor's shop and lo! Time seemed to have stood still for twenty-five years! The same Gangadharan was sitting there on the same bench and reading the same Malayala Rajyam! It was as if I was dreaming. His hair was gray and his face slightly wrinkled. He, in turn, mistook me for my elder brother first, and then, after some enquiries about everyone, was kind enough to guide me to Uncle's house.
Uncle had become a shadow of his former self. He could not see properly, was almost stone-deaf and had an elongated face now. When we were children he used to show us his strong biceps and was proud of his physique. We talked for half an hour. I had to shout into his ear to make him hear.
Uncle was still affectionate towards us; there was no bitterness in him. Here was a good man fallen into bad times for no fault of his, but due to social change.
After giving him some money, I took leave of him and rushed to the bus stand just in time to catch the evening bus and reached home at midnight.
I was glad that I could meet my uncle and also give him some money. I was surprised to note that Quilon had not changed much and our locality had not changed at all.
Exactly one year after my visit, we got a post card that told us that Uncle had passed away.
