Inji Marappaa

Of all the things in the world, never in my wildest imaginations did I ever fathom that nostalgia would be induced by the thought of this tiny sweet and sour candy.. Well I guess it all started when I spotted this "crystalised ginger" while I was grocery shopping at 'Stop&Shop' yesterday.. It reminded me of the wonderful Inji marappa,while sitting in the 'mofussil' bus in Aarapaalayam, waiting for it to start, the old man who would be selling them for 25 paisa each - Roobaikku naalu ( My God! 25 paisa?!?!? We dont even respect 25cents here). As a kid I was never allowed to buy these things. 'Udambukku Keduthal' appa used to say, 'Vayithula poochi mulaichudum' ammaa used to say... So I never tasted the Inji marappa (BTW, it is a sweet and sour candy made of ginger (Tamil:Inji) that tastes not too bad) till I was old enough to go to college.

While in College, once in a month when I used to travel back home I used to have Inji marappa.. Not because I liked its taste. It tasted ok... Infact the first time, I bought it because I took pity on the very old man (He could have been a septuagenarian) and bought 4 injimappaas for Rs1... His hands used to tremble even as he picked them up one by one and placed it in my late-teen palms... All I saw was his old beaten down trembling weak body, but still strong spirit for survival... I am sure with his frail body, he could have made more money as a beggar. But still he didn’t choose that life. I remember sometimes I gave him a Rs2 coin.. He would not even have Rs1 change... ( Naan thaan muthal poni pola)... I would say, 'Parava illa thatha... vaechukonga.' He would not reply... Instead he would put his hand into his bag and pull out 4 more inji marappaas to compensate for the extra money.. In that single moment, I learnt what dignity and self-esteem was all about.

Many people like this... Another Very very old man ( and this was even earlier - when I was in 5th grade or something) used to walk the streets of our area yelling at the top of whatever remained of his voice , " Boli-ye, thengaa maangaa Pattaani Sundallu"... I used to look at him and wonder why he had to work at this age and at times worry how he would make ends meet.. I used ask amma, "Namma thaatha mattum aathula rest eduthundu irukkaala.. antha thaathaa mattum Veiyilla yenma ipdi nadanthu nadanthu work panraar..." Amma used to say something about poverty and punarjanmam I dont recollect properly... Somehow I got a little too much attached to him.. The sight of him in that dhoti and Kathar shirt with a dark green towel that served both to wipe his sweat and also as a buttress against the koodai(basket) on his head. During the Summer of '91 my thatha passed away after being bed-ridden for a long time.. I felt sad... very sad... but didn’t cry... Very surprising for a less than 10-year old.. But a couple of weeks after that something happened... The Boli selling thatha didn’t come.. I stopped hearing the familiar cry... I was worried. I thought he too had passed away.. Then I wondered if he would have had the same sending off like my thatha, or did he faint and was lying in some deserted street corner without care, just like when he was alive.. As these thoughts rushed to my head, and then to my heart, tears filled my eyes...

Even now as I write this I feel desolate... That was the time when I told myself, "when I grow up and become an adult, I would strive to atleast put one elderly person out of such misery.." That was when I was 10 years old. And till today apart from the occasional donation here and there I haven’t done much. 18 years have passed by since then.. The last time I went home, I went to what used to be my room, stood in front of the familiar west-facing window and despite the setting sun threatening to burn my retinas, I waited for the familiar voice of the Boli thaatha.. It was not to be heard. It will never be heard again.. May his soul rest in peace...

After being separated from my thatha for this long, paatti finally left to join him last week. I felt sad, my heart cringed. But suddenly I am left pondering how many more geriatrics like the inji thaathaa and boli thathas are still out there burning in the unrelenting south indian sun, just to make both ends meet... But unfortunately thoughts like these are only fleeting and not frequent. May be because we are all more concerned about the EMIs to pay, the cars to buy, the watches to collect and the matches to watch.For some not very irrelevant reason, I am reminded of Oskar Schindler and the final scene from Schindler's list, where he cries, "Had I sold this car, I could have saved 4 more. Had I sold this watch I could have saved 1 more..."


Thani manithanukku unavillai endraal intha ulagathaiye azhikka vaendum endraan androru maamanithan.
Aanaal indro naam anaivarum thani thani manithargalaaga, namakku naame ulagangalaaga vaazhnthu kondu irukkindrom...