The Mundu story

One fine day I was intimated that I need to turn up in traditional/Ethnic  wear for the Diwali Celebrations scheduled in office.  This made me wonder if I could wear the ever Effervescent Mundu (the official attire of the state of Kerala) to office on that day. Owing to the fact that it was a Multinational Company and since it was in Mumbai which was pretty far from Kerala there had been absolutely no opportunity for me to don this attire. I had always longed to come to office in Mundu one day just for namesake at least and this was a golden opportunity that I did not want to miss. I was a bit sceptical about the whole thing since a lion’s shares of my colleagues in office are North Indians.

All my thoughts went out of the backdoor once I wore the Mundu and stood in front of the mirror. I really said to myself come what may I am going to office dressed like this.  For a brief moment of time I was taken back in time to my college days where I used to turn up in college in the same way for Onam celebrations ,those wonderful memories flashed through my mind in a second and suddenly I was a transformed to a totally different individual.

A lot of eyebrows were raised when I entered office as expected most of them had turned up in Sheruvanis, Kurthas, Lehengas, Saris and the like I was the odd one out in Mundu but I really didn’t care much  it was my day today . As I walked in I was welcomed by the prying eyes of my Boss. I smiled at him and managed to convince him by telling him that we were told to come in ethnic wear today and since I am from the southern part of the country this is the ethnic wear over there. Thanks to SRK and Chennai Express everyone in my office thought that I was wearing a lungi. I had to had to go to great lengths to explain to every Tom, Dick and Harry that I was not wearing a lungi but rather a Kasavu Mundu (a cream colour Mundu with a golden border) which is the official attire in my state of Kerala .  As a matter of fact (not sure if it is followed nowadays ) it is mandatory in all Government  Offices that once in a week that all the employees  have to turn up in the traditional attire ie in a Mundu or Sari.  

On a lighter note all sorts of questions were thrown at me like“how I would climb the stairs wearing  a mundu ?”  to “How do I ride my bike in a mundu ? “ “How would I manage the cold in my office since it is cooled by a centralised A/C ? ”. All I had to say to them was that I have been wearing the Mundu since I have been 15 and all these are just natural for me. But got to say this I had a tough time to keep myself warm in office the simple reason being I have never worn the Mundu to someplace where there is an a/c.   And boy the rush that I got when I folded the mundu above my knees cannot be put into mere words. To understand the significance of that simple action you need to be a malayalee. For starters it is similar to the alpha male in Malayalam movies who folds his Mundu above his knees before he bashes up the villains he also gets to do that before he walks in slow motion after saying a punch dialogue in the movie. In reality it is done for the freedom of movement so that your natural movements are not restricted but we glamorise these things to a different level altogether. This so called Mundu is no laughing matter, in a Malayalee guy’s life it has a huge importance. In my case I wore the Mundu for the first time in my 10 th standard during my farewell at school and my Mom gifted me a Kasavu Mundu for the occasion, I still have that with me. It is difficult for me to believe now that I have not worn the Mundu in Public in the past six years (wearing a lungi at home is totally different) primarily because I have been out of Kerala since my college. By now I guess you might have understood why wearing the Mundu to office today was such a big deal for me.

Moving on to the Diwali celebrations I could see people in different attires representing  different cultures it  gave me a glimpse of the Unity in diversity of our country.  I felt special owing to the fact that I was the only one who represented my state of Kerala. And it felt to be great to be donned in your traditional attire in a place which is no way near your home state.

Memories #1

Epilogue:

The following is my article that appeared in my School magazine Loyolite 95 of Loyola School Trivandrum I am reproducing the same here. It was written by me when I was in my fifth standard . Today when I read it I don’t find anything special in it but considering the fact that it was written by a 10 year old I feel that it was a pretty good effort. In a way it marked the beginning of me as a writer. The thing that amazes me the most to this day is how my mother managed to convince me to invest so much time on something, after all you can guess how much attention span a kid of that age does have.  Even today a huge turn off for me to sit and write is the amount of time that I need to spend on to get my thoughts onto paper, I dread the editing part even more. Editing these days is far more easier since I use a laptop . It is easy to cut and delete stuff when you use a laptop. I shudder when I think as to how I got it done as a kid.

DADDY

Mr and Mrs Bruno had two little children Angelo and Ambrose. They loved their parents very much. Early morning Daddy would go horse riding and Mummy would cook breakfast. Daddy would go to office and Mummy would go to the welfare center after sending the children to school. Daddy returned late late in the evening and the children would wait at the door .Angelo would take the official IPS cap and the baton while Ambrose would take the gun and shout “Hands up”. Dad would tell “My son that is loaded”. “Were Angelo and Ambrose good boys ?” asked Mr Bruno “Yes Daddy” they replied . Then Daddy would place Ambrose on his shoulder and Ambrose would tell his father “I am taller than you” (it turned out to be prophetic he is 6 feet 3 inches now). Angelo is also not happy. He too wishes to be on his father’s shoulder. Mr  Bruno takes him in his arms and the two children are happy and laugh for a long time...

...In this way eight years passed happily . Daddy has got transferred to another place . It has three and a half years since he has got leave. The government is very strict. No person is allowed to cross the border . Poor mummy and children and are waiting for the visa. How long will it take ? No idea.

Prologue:

Today as I read this I can very much see the heart of a 10 year old who was yet to come in terms with the sudden demise of his father. I pen these lines on the 21^st death anniversary of my Dad and the pain is more or less the same. The other day I was telling my brother that contrary to belief that something fades with the passage of time in my case the pain is still there if not more. I would like to add that different people react to death differently. I still remember vividly my brother’s response to a question during his UKG interview he was hardly 5 years old then. The interviewer a priest and the Principal of the school asked him where his father was and he innocently replied “In heaven” I . At that time I was 11 years old and I was too stunned to even think when I heard the question in the first place. Moving on many years later Mrs Deepa Pillai (DP) the editor of the magazine at that time had written in my scrap book during the time of me leaving school “I still remember the contribution that you made in the school magazine as a little boy, I wish and pray that you end up a good writer one day” . Till date I consider it to be the biggest compliment that I have received on my writing because she is the finest English teacher to have ever taught me .

More similar posts Memories #2 A tribute to my Father