The Native Trail
Mumbai, 2020
-by Suresh Iyer
–Reading Time – 9 min Approx
Surya was sitting scrolling his mobile at the corner of the Sofa. He had taken his young daughter Swara to her close friend Kavya’s birthday party as his wife was busy in one online office conference meeting. Filmy music was blaring from the TV Screen as Swara and Kavya were awaiting other friends to join the party and playing around. Kavya’s mother was busy in the preparations for the party while Kavya’s father was checking the balloons and decorations.
Swara came running over to him and exclaimed, “Look what Kavya has got. Isn’t it so lovely Pa?” She brought the attention of Surya towards a beautiful age-old sculpture kept at a showcase. Surya had not noticed it as he entered the house. As he went near it, he felt nostalgic as it was similar to the one, he had seen often around the temple in his native place Tiruvidaimarudur at Tamil Nadu. His face filled with an intent curiosity. Kavya’s father told him that it was gifted to him by one of his South Indian colleagues. Surya looked at the sculpture with pride and remarked, “O Great! It belongs to my native place.” Soon Kavya’s other friends came one by one and there was lot of commotion and shrieks by the children.
Surya sat back in the sofa and was lost in thoughts. He would remember his father Mahalingam taking him once in two years to his native place when he was young. Travel from Mumbai to his native place was hectic those days with train journey taking close to 30 hours. He remembered peering through the window of the Sleeper Class disinterestedly as he missed playing around with his friends back in Mumbai.
But once he went there, he just loved running around the huge ancient Mahalingeswarar Temple built in 9th century dedicated to the deity Shiva containing inscriptions of various kings right from the Pandyas, Cholas to the Thanjavur Marathas. His father would often take a walk with him down the Agraharam in this temple town on the banks of River Cauvery narrating tales of his childhood days and the history of the place. An agraharam is a cluster of houses that abuts the temple wall, and serves as a colony for the temple priests, brahmins and their families. A typical Agraharam house comprises a stone bench in the verandah and an open courtyard in the middle of the house. Any passerby or tourist can climb up the verandah of any house, and stay for the night or take rest in daytime. By the side of the courtyard, there will be a hall, a pooja room, a storeroom, and kitchen etc. In these Agraharams, there are vegetable gardens, coconut trees in the back yard of every house. In between the land and the kitchen every house will have well, to meet their water requirement. Water is drawn using a pot tied to a thick rope, through a pulley. Devotional music used to be played at each home. He remembered his father narrating to him stories and he used to play freely around his ancestral house.
A further mile away from the Agraharam, his father would take him to the Mariamman temple, the village deity which is believed to cure the villagers from calamities, diseases and so on. The village people were quite self-sufficient with their simple needs as always and their daily lives were linked to the activities of the main Shiva temple. They woke up and slept early.
Wherever he went around, he could see the temple gopuram standing majestically and it would appear as if it was watching him everywhere. The sound of the bells adorning the temple elephant was music to ears as it walked around the temple. Right between the road leading to the small Railway Station from the temple was the high school in which his father studied. His grandfather used to be the headmaster of the school. 
He recalled his younger days when they got down from the town in the scenic Railway Station and proceeded right towards the bullock cart. Traveling in the bullock cart was great fun. They would put all the luggage in the bullock cart and make him sit beside the luggage and walk down the road. The bullock cart would take him along as he would majestically wave hands at his parents and relatives.
“Papa!” – Swara waved at him as he got back to senses and found everyone readily standing for the cake cutting. He found Swara jumping up and down as if it was her own birthday. He joined the children in the celebrations.
As they returned back home, Swara was sounding excited looking at the return gifts. Surya and telling her mother about the fun she had at the birthday party. Surya kept scrolling the photos in his mobile shared by Swara’s friend’s father. As he came to the pic featuring the nostalgic sculpture, he asked Swara, “Isn’t it nice?”
Swara nodded enthusiastically.
“Do you know this belongs to our native place where our grandfather used to go to school?”
“Shall we go there, Papa?”, Swara exclaimed.
“Yes darling”, Surya replied stroking Swara’s hair.
Deep down he felt sad that there was no one back at their native place now. Their ancestral place got sold off. The temple still remains an attraction but the place might have lost its old-world charm.
It was time for Swara to sleep. Surya narrated the story surrounding the temple with Swara happily listening and dozing off to sleep.
-by Suresh Iyer
