The first memory I have of a Muslim are Moymu and Salma from my dad’s ancestral home where they used to be domestic helpers for generations. I remember Moymu as thin and dark wearing a lungie and shirt and Salma with a lungie, blouse and scarf(thattom) on her head( typical Moplah dress in North Malabar). Did I say they ‘used ‘ to be the domestic helpers for generations….yes and they might be the last generation to work for us too as their sons and sons- in law were already in gulf…But besides that they used to still come to our house and be assistance to our grand parents who used to stay alone..And indeed they used to visit when we were there for our annual visits and Salma used to visit us with Pathiris and Egg curry( a typical North Malabar delicacy)..In between the delicious food and Moymu’s numerous beedis I remember Moymu talking about his numerous children and grand children and how his sons and sons-in-law are faring in Gulf….Indeed remember Moymu’s daughter too….a big chechi(elder sister) for me then in her teens wearing a long skirt, blouse and a head scarf(called ‘Thattom’). And some where along those years, I remember Moymu moving from ‘Choottu’( A traditional Mallu torch-A bunch of Coconut palm leaves tied and lighted at the end) to a huge foreign torch (brought for him by one of the many sons)..That is my early memory of ‘Muslim’..sweet Moymu who used to smell of beedi and Salma who smells of Pathiri and Egg curry…
Along with that, I also remember Islam as the green Mosque in my mother’s native place..which is incidentally my dad’s native place too.. which used to be the Van/bus stop where we used to get ready to get down while travelling from my dad’s home to my mom’s home..advising my brother that ‘It’s the next stop and be ready’ just before the Nellaya City stop..my Mother still prays with her eyes closed for a moment in front of all temples, churches and mosques…probably she picked up her practice from this Mosque which used to be on her way to school…As I started growing up..even before I realized the concept of religion, I was exposed to my Grandma’s stories of how she was born in 1921( the year of Moplah rebellion in Great Malabar) and how even though being the main feudal lord in Malabar, her father was respected and loved through out his domain and how her mother used to give paddy , jaggery and vegetables to those poor ‘Umma’s’( the way Muslim women are addressed in Malabar) whose husbands were in hiding from the British police and how her father( at that time the Manjeri kovilakom thampuran) refused to let the police search their property where they had Muslims in hiding. Indeed this exposure was at a tender age of six or seven when I did not even even know what a ‘Muslim’ meant..But I used to empathise with them and with my Grandmother’s description of how loyal and courteous they were I imagined them always close to my heart….
So there I was growing up….from the age of seven towards by adolescent age when we shifted to this new house in Trivandrum, where we had a sweet muslim family in neighbourhood. Beeby Aunty was a government school teacher ( yes, I can sense your surprise, but Muslim ladies in Kerala work as well) , uncle was in Gulf, so we never used to get to see him, but all the kids in neighbourhood used to wait for him to come once in two years when aunty used to come to each house with a bunch of pencils, pens, erasers and lots of chocolates- our only entry into the Gulf world at that time. And apart from this sweet teacher aunty, there used to be a chettan( elder brother) and two chechis( elder sisters) in the house. We could never make out any difference in the way they talk or behave or dress..they used to joke, they used to play and we all used to gossip. They were all exemplary students and proceeded to become doctors. Beeby aunty used to be such a popular teacher in the neighbourhood that if you go out for a walk with her …you can see the entire locality coming to say hi to her..they were all either her students or her student’s parents..The only time we saw the difference was the time when Mutton Biriyani used to come to our house in parcels twice a year ( for Bakrid and Ramzan) and we used to take Payasam and other snacks to their house twice( Onam and Vishu) … I have always wished to be in their shoes then- Imagine having good Biriyani at home…yummmm…for me it was a distant dream as my mom is a strict vegetarian. So that was ‘Musim’ for me when I was growing up- lip smacking biriyani and lots of chocolates and fancy pencils…
I was growing up…yeah I am almost grown up now ( atleast that is what my mom expects me to be) and over a decade ,concept of ‘Muslim’ has changed – Babri masjid was demolished, Saudi Arabia and human rights became a topic of contempt( hello you forget where your money comes from), Bin-Laden became a popular villain, Afzal Muhammed has been sentenced to death -a Muslim is being looked at with contempt and suspicion …..What happened to the sweet Salma thatha and my beloved Beeby Aunty…? Have they really changed or is it ME??
