Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Odiyan

Odiyan....

One who can change forms.
One who has magical powers.
One who is feared by all.
One who fears none.
The strongest.

Kerala is indeed God's own country. Yet it is strife with tales of yakshi, chathan, redlaans and of course the odiyans.

My summer vaccations as a kid were mostly spent at my ancestral home in kerala. Despite being a city kid, everything about my kerala village seemed to blend into me seamlessly.

And so did the tales of odiyans.


I recollect.
As we walked thru the damp pathway surrounded with trees, towards the family temple, my father points out to tattered remains of a house and mentions in a tone that is devoid of any emotion....
"There used to be an Odiyan there, long time ago".

What I could gather from all the questions I later posed to my father was that:

Odiyan was the practioner of the odi vidya. A form of black magic which could turn a person into any other form; it could be an animal, a tree, a creeper or even another person.
Usually an odiyan is called into service by the affluent families to carry out a revenge attack on their arch enemies. The level of revenge could be varying from just scaring the person or even up to killing them.


One tale my dad recounted was that involving my grand dad.
My grandpa was a soldier in burma during the world war two and had just returned back to Kerala. In his absence, the land belonging to him was encroached by another person in the village. There was a bitter battle between the two for some years before my grandad emerged as the rightful owner of the land.
It was just months later, my grandad observed that there is this big black dog following him everywhere. My grandad who was usually at ease with animals, did not find something quite right about this dog . The dog had a vissible limp and always had its teeth unsheathed at him.

This continued for some weeks and one night when he was returning from the temple, out of the bushes the black dog jumped at him, attacking. My grandad kicked the beast away and picked up a stick and hit the dog hard on its head. The dog howled in pain and a small packet fell off from its ears. Villagers rushed to the spot hearing the commotion. Granpa asked them to tie up the dazed animal to the tree for the night.


In the morning what everyone saw was instead of the black dog, there was a naked man tied to the tree. The guy was known to all, he stayed near the temple in the secluded house and did odd jobs. He was called channakaalan vasu ( Vasu, who limped).

It was then revealed that Vasu was an odiyan and was instructed by my grandpa's rival to grievously injure him.

Both the rival and the odiyan were banished from the village.

The story here definitely sounds exaggerated and in tune to village tales.
But the fact of the matter is the reference and mention of the odiyans.
They were akin to hired rowdies or quotation groups of modern age. Just that they were more creative in their ways.

The odiyans not only used the cloak of night to execute their plans, they also indulged in a well thought out psychological scare tactics. Which also made the victim believe he had an encounter with the super natural ( if he survived it). Scare tactics, hypnotism and illusions played a major part.

And the myth always grew generation by generation. With many add-ons.
Some of which were viz,

To transform into another form, they had to place a packet behind their ears. The packet would have undergone various black magic spells and contained ashes of an unborn baby.

The most usual form assumed is that of a dog or the wolf.

The assumed form would also carry the exact bodily deformity as that of the Odiyan.

The effect of the packet wears off over the night.

Experienced Odiyans could turn invisible.

Only male can practice odi vidya.

And sooo on.



Odiyan's biggest weapons were stealth and secrecy. Even today grandmas around Kerala would refer to the Odiyan once in a while in their bed time stories to the kids.

And the young kids in their impressionable age would give wings to their imagination to figure out whether the dog that passed by was just an ordinary dog or...an Odiyan !!

Friday, April 10, 2015

Two Cups of Tea



Today was just like yesterday. Wretched!

Was it morning, evening or was it midnight...? I didn't care. I wouldn't be even sure about when did I have my last meal.



At 28 years, working in an asset management firm, I had everything in my life that money could buy. Yet had nothing that a life needed. All alone at 2AM at my workspace, I kept clicking the mouse. Mind wandered far away....but eyes transfixed to the screen of my laptop.


I force myself to shut down my laptop. I never carry work home. That was a promise I had to keep. I slid the laptop into the pedestal and locked it.

I stride out of my floor, brooding, as always. The security personnel on duty tonight was an old guard, I smile at him and wave him a good night. Perhaps, that was the only time I smiled in last week or so.


Lifts at work places are generally like taxi cabs in Mumbai or New York city. You never find one when you need one. But at this ghostly hour, they are not much in demand.

I quickly get to the basement and revved up my black outlander. Coming out of the parking lot, at the exit, taking a left would set my path towards home. But, I choose to take a right. I speed up, windows brought down. Wind gushing in and with my hair flying, I feel no different about the day or my life. Wretched! That's what both are.


These are familiar paths.....ones that I have rode on so many times before. At this hour of the day, you have places where you get piping hot tea. These are the road side vendors on bicycles or mopeds or small shacks. You wouldn't find them plenty in number. They always operate in a constant fear of police on night patrol harassing them.


Common thing about these places are, they would always have customers. Soon, I find one of the places I frequent, open. I park my car.

There were 4 guys, 3 bikes, seemingly IT nerds, smoking and having tea.

There was a red indica cab parked, odd color for an indica. And there was a sumo and a tavera. Both white in color, cabs. One of the cabs was playing the song "Aap ki kashish...."


The 3 cab drivers were having their tea near their vehicles.


I ask for 2 cups of tea.


As I sip the tea, I overhear the nerds discussing about one of the latest movie; to be precise, the actress in the movie.

It was a balmy night. Wasn't exactly a cold night.

I sip my cup of tea and watch vehicles zoom by on the road. The streetlight above me flickered and I looked up. The night sky looked darker.


The moon was bright yellow, with grey velvety clouds all around it. It was as beautiful as an oil painting, at the same time had a sense of melancholy about it.

Having finished the 1st cup, I quietly and slowly reach out for the 2nd cup of tea. Did my hand tremble? I didn't care.


She came from a place where people loved coffee more than tea. Perhaps because they grew a lot of coffee there. She loved coffee. Yet, she would always insist to have a cup of tea with me. I am a tea person.


She wasn't here tonight with me to have her share of tea.


It's been a month now. I still order two cups of tea.






Sunday, March 29, 2015

The Airport

Life is in total dumps...... As always nothing new about it. Anyways, that's a tale for some other time. It's 2AM, and I am at the airport on an unusually pleasant weathered March night. Pleasant, yes! Just the weather.

The airport was alive with people. Most of them have come to see off some one or the other. Next arrival was at 3AM, flight from Singapore; so there were a few at the arrival area, waiting for some one or the other. Thing about airports is that it makes you feel rich and affluent.... You end up paying 200 bucks for a tea or a coffee and you savor it as if it is usual thing you do everyday. So, while I was ordering for my portion of "nectar", my attention was drawn to an odd couple. 

The guy in his late twenties, balding, dark and lean. The girl too in her late twenties, long smooth black hair, fair and lean. The guy was holding a helmet in his hand, the one that is of the shape of a cooking pot (meen chatti (fish pot) in malayalam) and a shabby bag on his back. The gal had a black over coat and a hand bag, on the ground was the big jumbo VIP check-in bag.

The guy, obviously had rode a bike to the airport and the girl definitely did not come pillion with him. It intrigued me, everything about them. The girl looked way out of league for him. There was an untold sadness in their face. The guy had put a hand around her, as if consoling her or to an effect consoling himself. 

By the time I got my pipping hot tea, the couple had hugged each other in a sad intense manner, mumbling precious nothing and proceeded towards the departure gate. Both looked tensed and sad. The guy looked more emotional than the girl.....!
I stood there sipping my tea watching them indulge in their slow tragic good bye. There were people jostling all around and I wasn't at a vantage point anymore; So I now  moved closer to them and in the way ended up photobombing couple of group pictures.

Finally, the time had come for the girl to enter the security cordon, she holds the guy's hand and nods her head as if telling him not to worry and we will meet soon.
He says nothing, just looks on. She strides into the departure lounge, the bag on wheels in one hand. After a couple of steps...she gives a tentative glance back. The guy hadn't moved from his place, the last permissible area for the visitors. He looked on from there, with his helmet in one hand and the other hand on the barricade. She goes thru the initial security and enters THE airport, from there she waves at him, he
waves back. He stands there motionless, eyes fixed on the girl. Once she got in I couldn't find the girl, she was lost in the crowd inside, but I saw her thru his eyes. His eyes following her, unwilling to say the final good bye. She carried on with her check-in processes, he stood there waiting. I waited with him.

 

The hot tea was now cold; cold, like the breeze that caressed my face. Momentarily, he looked back, his eyes met mine. I could see the tears he had stopped from rolling out in his eyes. He glanced back once more, looking at me for a brief moment longer than what is normal. I looked away.

I stood there, watched him wait till she got into an escalator. As the escalator went up, I knew those were the final seconds of his vigil. He sighed, his shoulder drooped. His gaze was fixed on the escalator, the last place he had seen her. Slowly, he turned back and ambled to the exit. He took his mobile out and tapped on it couple of times before taking it to his ears....looked like he dialed a number; but suddenly, withdrew from completing the call. He puts the phone back into his pocket and walks off.


I stood there wondering about the odd couple. What could be and what not. There was an overwhelming sense of pain in him and somehow unknowingly, I carried back with me a portion of his pain.