Memories Never Die…
In 1986 or so, we went on a tour to Munnar with Appachen,
Ammachy and my siblings. Our children were small then. But unfortunately, we could not go to Silent Valley as it was a one-day tour, and it was found unsafe to travel in the mist. It was after long thirty-four years that I was visiting Silent Valley with my husband Prof.Joseph Koshy, my daughter Jeana Merin Joseph and my brother Thambichayan’s son Manith Mathews in our Maruti Omni. As the car approached Pallivasal, my heart was beating faster and faster. I can’t explain how eager I was in seeing Silent Valley at a distance. I had been to Munnar and a few other places on many other occasions, but never to Silent Valley. I was reminded of Wordsworth’s “Tintern Abbey Lines” all through the journey. I could hardly contain my emotions within.
“FINALLY, I DID REACH MY VALLEY OF CONTENTMENT!”
I am not reproducing the feelings I had on the journey and on actually seeing the place. On coming back, I could not but write and I thought of no other medium than poetry to present my feelings. Here’s the poem. I hope you can read it and understand the pulse behind it.
In 2004 we went with our son Jubel and my brother Thambichyan. Then also we visited Silent Valley as we had stayed in the Marthoma Residential cottage in Munnar, and it was virtually a two-day trip. The whole family went on another memorable tour in 2015.
The charm and glory of the place remains still in our hearts, though not in the landscape. The young in the family could comprehend the overwhelming passion in us for the land.
This poem was written after the first trip in 2000.
The Story of a Little Girl Who Gathered Hailstones in Her Palms.
(A Tribute to my Father and Mother…)
1. The suns and shades of four and thirty years
Kept me away from my beloved Valley of Silence;
The dreams and aches of thirty-four years
Kept me close to my dreamy Valley of Silence.
2. Plans fruitless, and calculations human
Prolonged the road to my cool and lovely Valley
But nothing could chill my longing,
The hot, intense passion for my gentle Silent Valley.
3. My heart bounced with rapid steps
It took leaps over the fencing of wild plants
My mind foresaw the tall trees
Standing as watchmen among the green plants.
4. When, at last, I reached the ‘Kashmir of the East’,
Munnar, where three rivers met
My heart rose beyond its space
Not having enough room for my emotions to hold.
5. The green-carpeted plantations, the meandering ways,
The misty mountains, the cool silent trees
Filled my heart with the Lake Poet’s
‘Aching joys and dizzy raptures.’
6. Amidst the dense foliage, encircled by the mountains
Wild “shola” trees whistled afar
Making wavy murmurs in the mountain springs,
Piping symphonies in the sweet air.
7. Still farther, I set foot on the land of my dreams
My heart had galloped faster than me
It had flown higher than me
Much before the journey started.
8. A girl of sixteen raced before me
I couldn’t keep pace with her
She raced past where the factory was once
To the curve, where the meadows and mud-paths crossed.
9. She ran before me and stopped panting
Beside the old, old, fence of wild plants
She gasped, turned to me, and I knew not
Whether she was laughing or crying.
10. The old, familiar house, my ‘dream home’
It had stood the travails of Time,
I looked for old traces; happy when I found some
Sad when there were none to be seen.
11. No more were the green rows of bushes dividing the courtyard
The arches of wild jasmines my father dearly loved have vanished
Where my swing and jasmines were,
Cabbages and caulis have taken the place.
12. The clustering plants were still there
Sparrows sat there when I was small
The air resounded with “Salaam Ayyah”
The simple workers greeted my father with.
13. The old fireplace was there in my parents’ room
I remembered the late evenings the family sat around it
With the faces glowing with the red flames
The warmth and bliss was still there, but not my father.
14. The old stretch of land had narrowed to a mere strip
Fenced apart; the variety was lost
Where are my mother’s carrots, chicory and tomatoes?
Where are my mulberry bushes, the boughs I sat on and read?
15. The black soil where I built a nest of mud
For the sparrows to come and settle
Where is the child-made hut
Where my brother and I kept mud-cakes and leaf-curries?
16. I saw the same old glass windows
Where the hail-stones struck
I remembered the little girl’s sadness
To see them melted in the vessel.
17. My home, my father’s home stood where four roads met
One wound to the ‘old Sahib’s bungalow, one to the hospital,
One down to the ‘layams’ where my “Sreerengu” lived,
And one for my heart to reach.
18. I remembered the little mountaineering expeditions
The mountain streams and rivulets
The women plucking the tender tea leaves
The mud-paths where I had my solitary walk.
19. Where is my swing where I used to sit on
And talk to my sisters and brothers in my dramatic monologues
The swing which took me up to my parentage?
The swing which took me down to my heritage?
20. Well, this is my Valley, the silent, but eloquent Valley
I could see the old mountains where we curiously watched
The family of elephants with the baby behind
Everything seemed much far; but much closer to me still.
21. As I stood enthralled in the cool retreat
I longed to merge with the landscape, to be one with it,
To feel the bliss of harmony, and to become
Just another cool and pleasant landscape.
22. The mist was lifted, the rains showered
The little girl stood there
With the hail-stones in her closed palms
On opening, to find them collected in her heart, unmelted.
Cf: Silent Valley—A tea estate, originally belonged to the Kannan Devan Company, 20 KM away from Munnar town in Idukki District in Kerala, South India.
Munnar is situated on the confluence of the three mountain streams, Kannimalayar, Nallathanni, and Kundala.
Layams—Quarters for the labourers in the tea plantation
Sreerengu—A Tamilian woman worker who was very fond of me.
(Cont’d)
