The Oracle: a flash back

Nirmalyam, an epoch making film of the seventies won’t be made again, much less shown in the theatres of Kerala. The reasons are two fold: one, the story is no longer contemporary –that’s the subject of my post- and two, I doubt, the present religious (Hindu) awakening will permit such a film being shown without a cut. Kerala society has moved on so much since the seventies, thanks to the dilution of Marxist dogma with liberal ideological moorings, that even the hard core Marxist is temple going and sports the sacred sandal paste on his forehead. In such a revivalist point of time, it is doubtful whether the ordinary Hindu will   tolerate the perceived blasphemy of the Velichapadu (Oracle). Such is the intolerance that has crept into the society that MT, the author, director and producer of the movie would consider it a misadventure not worth taking.

Nirmalayam is the story of an impoverished Velichapadu, set in the backdrop of a village temple in ruins and the people around it, who depend on the meager income of the temple to eke out a living. The temple has fallen on lean days with fewer devotees thronging in. With poverty stalking at their doors, the son of the Oracle turns into a rebel, a deviant; the daughter falls an easy prey to the charms of the young temple priest. Amidst the despondency, all that the Oracle is looking forward to is a resurgence of faith among the villagers which could brighten his fortunes. As if in answer to his prayers or as a result of the wrath of the deity, the village is afflicted by small pox. The villagers turn to their Oracle to appease the deity. This was the moment the oracle was waiting for, his moment of glory!  Fully charged, he rushes home to get his temple sword, only to find the money lender walking out of the house, satiated by his (oracle’s) wife who had sold her body to discharge the family debt. Utterly defeated and shattered, he pours his pent up fury into the ritualistic frenzied dance, slashing his forehead repeatedly with the sword and splashing and spitting the blood on to the deity till he falls dead. A very powerful end which stunned the audience! And for his powerful acting as Velichapadu, P J Antony walked away with the National Best Actor award.

Well, as I said in the beginning this story no longer holds good. The story of Nirmalyam came to me as a flash back, during the local temple festival. The oracle of the temple is a stocky young man who is in business almost all the days of the week.  On Chuttuvilakku (adorning the whole temple walls with oil lamps) days, for which there is a waiting list of devotees,   he performs the ritualistic dance. It is then that the deity speaks through him to the devotee. The devotees, blessed by the deity, make liberal offerings. During the festival season the Oracle goes around the village showering blessings and collecting offerings to the temple and to him. Devotees vie with each other in their offerings and devotion.  No wonder the modern day oracle is a far cry from the Nirmalyam days. He moves around in his private conveyance, has all the modern amenities at home and a happy contended family. 

If MT decides to remake Pallivalum Kalchilambukalum, he might have to change the script a bit, though, to make it contemporary. And sure it will not have a torrid ending!   

ദി പറമ്പന്‍ അടി ( Helicopter Shot)

I have been no fan of the slam bang cricket. I grew up with the test match cricket, the only form of cricket those days. Those were the days of Bapu Nadkarni, Mansur Alikhan Pataudi, Nari Contractor, Faroukh Engineer et al. They played for days together against mighty opponents, very often with no results. Either the rains came to their rescue or Nadkarni produced a mighty spell of maiden overs.

The game was enjoyed on the running commentary of a Sardendu Sanyal, Balu Alagannan or a Suresh Saraiya with statistics provided by the AIR statistician who was known by the name Mama. In the news papers the commentary was very often by Rajan Bala, Raju Bharathan or KN Prabhu. The 5 day match had a day off and the last match in a series had six days to produce a result. You could very often skip a large portion of the game and still not miss the vital action. With figures which read 29 overs, 26 maidens, and no wickets for three runs from Bapu Nadkarni, you could carry on with your daily chores and still be with the game.

Then came the 50 over limited over cricket and the television. And the game changed beyond recognition.  The gentlemen in white transformed into men in blue or orange or whatever colour you chose. The umpires also transformed, some wearing Emirates Air logo. The players have all sorts of corporate emblems on all visible parts of their body. And they come armoured like the ancient Greek soldier. Some with weird hairdos and some with appalling tattoos.  Some sported talismans a la Bhappi Lahiri.

  

The instant variety T20 was soon to follow. Except that they play with a bat and a ball, this fun game, more of an entertainment, has very less to do with cricket. The game is over in minutes and if you perchance dozed off a while, or blinked, you would have missed the turning point in the game.And then the replay of replays, frame by frame, millimeter by millimeter! And the game is analysed ball by ball by experts, some  fully attired and by some who would have their dress precariously held together.

This game throws out unlikely, unheard of heroes and is no respecter of form , style or reputation! Paul (not the Octopus of the FIFA 2010 World cup) the hero, so far, of the IPL 2011 brings me memories of Kunju, my friend and couple of years senior to me in school. I had just joined my village school after a stint in the Town. I had brought a cricket bat, a cork ball and a little knowledge of the game when I landed at my ancestral home to pursue schooling. After a briefing on the nuances of the game, Kunju was invited to play the game in the yard. I bowled the first ball at Kunju expecting a wicket, but to the dismay of the small group of aspiring cricketers, the ball was never to be seen again. And Kunju was not welcome anymore! Kunju would have surely made it to one of the IPL teams if he were to be spotted today. 

POST SCRIPT (2021)

10 years hence ,my grandson Nikhil  (12), a cartoon enthusiast (Mario Miranda fan) was inspired to draw Kunju hitting the helicopter shot and the fielding side looking stunned. Mario's trademark dog looking bored and unmoved.  The 1950s in Nikhil's imagination. Here is his sketch: