I have titled my article based on R.K.Narayan’s famous work ‘Malgudi Days’. The comparison ends with the title, as I am not a novelist like R.K.Narayan, nor is my Agraharam an imaginary place, or its characters and incidents are imaginary unlike Malgudi and its inhabitants.
I plead with R.K.Narayan-buffs like my dear niece Aarthi not to pounce on me for daring to compare my Agraharam with Malgudi, even if only in the title. I was inspired to write this article, after my brother and editor Parthasarathy’s article on not being bored, which was a masterly piece, bringing before our mind the ever busy life of a small boy in Pasupathy Agraharam or Vedhachala Gardens. As I already mentioned, the place where I spent my boyhood days, like Lord Krishna said in Bhaghavath Geetha, existed before I was born, exists now and will exist after my passing from this earthly abode.
Kannan, my aunt’s son, ( and now brother-in-law of myself and Parthasarathy ) will figure prominently in most of my episodes, as we were bosom friends from our childhood. Kannan is a born leader, while I am a born follower, which probably explains our mutual liking. I do not know whether our friendship would have been so strong, if I had not blindly accepted whatever he said and obeyed him implicitly.
My earliest memory dates back to about sixty years back, when Kannan and I were students in 1st Class and 4th Class respectively. We were studying in a primary school called S.K.B.B. Patashala. No one will know this school by this name. Every one will immediately recognize if you say that you studied in ‘Dhadi School’. 'Dhadi' in Tamil means beard, and since the Head Master was a venerable old man with a flowing white beard, the school was universally known as ‘Dhadi School’. As I had been newly admitted in 1st Standard, my father used to ask me daily, in front of his friends and relatives, ‘What did you learn in school today?’ He took immense pride in his baby child prattling, '
', ‘I learnt A, B, C, D, or some moral story' etc. I told Kannan about this daily ritual. Kannan had at that time learnt a few obscene words which he wanted to impart to me as his ardent follower. So, one day, he taught me a sentence, which he had just then learnt. This was ‘Chettiare, Chettiyare, Fiddle Vasiyungo, fiddle kambi arundu pona, ………………………………. Choriyungo.’ (I have deliberately omitted this word, as this is a family journal read by ladies and children. Interested adult males can satisfy their curiosity from Kannan or myself personally, not on telephone.) That day, when my father asked me what I learnt in school, being an innocent child of about four years, without even knowing the meaning of this sentence, I proudly prattled, ‘Chettiyare, Chettiyare, fiddle vasiyungo, fiddle kambi arundu pona, ………………………………… Choriyungo’. I did not know why my father became angry, which was very rare, and why all the relatives laughed loudly. Next day, Kannan explained the sentence to me in detail.
The second incident I remember was during the ‘Aruvatthu Moovar Festival (the festival in which the statues of 63 Nayanmars or Siva's disciples are taken out)’ at Kapali temple, Mylapore. During this festival, huge crowds used to throng the streets. Kannan one day asked me whether I would like to eat ‘Perichampazham (Dates)’. I said ‘Very much, Kannan, but we do not have any money to purchase’. Kannan told me not to worry about money, but to strictly follow his plan, which he revealed to me. Accordingly, we went to a push-cart vendor selling the dates. Kannan engaged him in conversation, like ‘What is the price? The dates are not so good, etc.’ As Kannan thus diverted the attention of the vendor with some infuriating idle conversation, I went to the back of the push cart, and snatched a few dates. As I was a tiny toddler, and the vendor was getting more and more infuriated with Kannan’s teasing, he did not notice the chicanery going on before (or perhaps at the back of ) his very eyes. I can vouch that I have never tasted such tasty dates, even though in later years, my son used to bring the best of dates from Dubai. 
I could understand when Mark Twain said in his Tom Sawyer episode that you crave for things which are difficult to get. As my brother Parthasarathy said about his feeling of compunction for getting his weight by chicanery without paying for same, I felt this remorse in later adulthood. But I never made any attempt to find the dates-vendor as Parthasarathy did, as I could remember nothing about that fellow or anything else, except the sweetness of those stolen dates. Kannan, as leader, and I, as follower felt immense pride in our achievement, which we used to proudly boast before our young friends. Kannan’s stock went up among the boys’ circle and he was accepted as unquestioned leader by every one except Gopu of House No.23 (who alas died in an accident a few years ago) , who was rather jealous of Kannan’s growing popularity. He told every one, ‘What is great about stealing?’ When Kannan came to know about through his ardent disciple (Yours faithfully), he called him one day for a duel on some imaginary pretext, and thrashed him thoroughly. After that, Gopu never came in Kannan’s way nor talked about him.
Another incident, which I remember vividly was the following :-
Pichai, the girl of House No.16, gave me one rupee for purchasing some tamarind and chillies which cost about eight annas. I was told by her to remember to bring the balance amount. As I was by this time well-trained by Kannan in the art of chicanery, I purchased some sweets for the balance money. When I went and gave the items purchased, Pichai asked me, ‘Where is the balance?’ I said that the Chettiar (shop owner, the shop was known as Chettiar shop) did not give any balance. I was immediately taken to the Chettiar shop by Pitchai and her mother, who confronted the Chettiar about his not giving balance to a sweet innocent boy. Chettiar said that he gave balance of eight annas, in five one anna coins, I feigned complete innocence and started weeping copiousy. The Chettiar himself was confused by my inconsolable sobs, and gave me a kamarkat, alongwith the balance eight annas to Pichai’s mother. Kannan was immensely pleased with my strides in the art of chicanery under his able guidance and we both had a grand party with the eight anna worth of sweets.
The next incident took place in P.S.High School, Mylapore where Kannan and I were both studying, in first form and fourth form respectively. In those days, anti-Hindi agitation was going on in full swing and Hindi was a hated subject for the boys. The Hindi teacher, Sri Devaraja Ayyar was a subject of ridicule among the boys. Since he was always shabby in appearance, he had been given the nick name of ‘Kandri Paappaan’ (Dirty Brahmin). One day, Kannan was very busy, talking with his benchmate in the Hindi class, The Hindi teacher became furious and ordered him to stand outside the class room during the remaining period. In those days, teachers, even one like ‘Kandri Paappaan’ were instantly obeyed, unlike the present days where parents drag teachers to court even for some slight punishment. Accordingly, as soon as his punishment was pronounced, Kannan went and stood outside the class. But, how can Kannan be Kannan if he meekly obeyed the teacher’s command and stood outside the class throughout the period? What Kannan did was to go to 25, Vedhachala Gardens (My house), which was very near the school. My mother, who was hospitality personified, and who liked Kannan more than her own children, prepared some hot bajjis and coffee which Kannan as a small and hungry boy as he was, heartily devoured. After a satiated stomach, he came back to the school when period was about to end. Unfortunately for the Hindi teacher, Shri V.A.Ramachandra Ayyar, more famously known as ‘Vilakku Ennai’ due to his indecisive nature, was going that way. He saw Kannan, standing very innocently at the class door, and enquired what was the matter and why he was standing outside the class. Kannan told him that the Hindi teacher had asked him to stand outside. He then asked whether he was standing outside for about one hour, the duration of the period. When Kannan replied in the affirmative, the headmaster became furious with the Hindi teacher. By the way, I forgot to mention that V.A.Ramachandra Ayyar resided in No.9 of our Agraharam, just opposite our house and my father and he were great friends. As the Hindi teacher was unpopular with every one, including the Head Master, he entered the class with Kannan and severely upbraided the Hindi teacher. ‘Don’t you know that this innocent boy, who is standing outside the class for about an hour with aching legs, is Srinivasa Ayyangar’s nephew and what Srinivasa Ayyangar will think when this boy tells the incident to him?’ Sri Devaraja Ayyar apologized profusely and came to our house that evening to personally apologise to my father. This incident, especially the humiliation meted out by Kannan to the hated Hindi teacher immediately made Kannan the unquestioned hero of the school. Recently, when I discussed this incident with Kannan, he told me of a sequel to this incident. It seems that when Kannan became a teacher by profession in later years, he met Sri Devaraja Ayyar somewhere and he told Kannan ‘See the justice of God; How much you troubled me as a student, now you will be troubled similarly by your students.'
When I think back of those happy days as a school boy, with such a wonderful companion as Kannan, I find it very hard to digest the fact that both Kannan and myself have become old, and old age diseases are overtaking both of us. I had a heart attack some years back, while Kannan had a by-pass surgery some days back. I am happy to inform our readers, that both of us have got over the initial mental depression that such illnesses bring with them, and both of us are as young in mind as we were in those days.
The last incident, which I remember very vividly took place in 25, Vedhachala Gardens (our house in those days). Sri Seshadri Ayyangar (my athimber and grand father of Chooda (wife of my leader Kannan)) was on a visit to our house alongwith Chooda and Hema, who was a baby. He was sitting in an old cot, in the verandah with Baby Hema in his lap. The cot was in its last days, and suddenly collapsed and Sri Seshadri Ayyangar descended down alongwith baby Hema, just like coming down a lift. I being a young boy without any inhibitions, laughed loudly as the spectacle was really comic. Immediately, Sri Seshadri Ayyangar pounced on me for my rude behaviour, and severely upbraided me. Seeing my plight, Chooda, who also was about to laugh, went away some distance, and laughed, with a kerchief in her mouth. After this incident, Sri Seshadri Ayyangar forgot about his falling and told everyone what a rude boy Gopalan was and what a sweet child Chooda was as he did not know that she also laughed without his knowledge.
I would like to conclude my article with some loud thinking on a matter not related to my childhood. It is the question being asked by many people, as to why my mother, who was so good and hospitable to everyone is suffering so much now, being completely bed ridden. After thinking deeply about this matter, I have come to the conclusion that being encased by the human body, no one including Alwars and Acharyas can escape the decay and illnesses of the human body. However, the goodness of my mother throughout her life has only given her good sons, daughter, daughters-in-law and grand-children who are making her life as comfortable as possible in her last days.
So long....
S.Rajagopalan
March 2003