R ight after the first yawn of the dawn, most of us grope in the semi-darkness for the cell phone. A recent data analysis from Western Digital Corporation indicates that every day in India, one out of three cell phones freeze and crash because of data overload; mainly resulting from ‘good morning’ messages flooding the internet. With 400 million WhatsApp users, it is a true traffic jam. The software experts are now devising a ‘hierarchy algorithm’ which would auto-delete unread ‘good morning’ messages to solve a storage space constraint.
Right from childhood, I tended to enjoy the company of senior citizens, the ‘grandpa’ type; perhaps as an inherited family trait. Their snow-white hair, the crow-feet around their eyes, toothless smile, and the slightly bent torso attracted me. Be it a case of a school teacher or a gardener, I loved and respected the elder ones more, and I should not deny that I got compensated well. My grandfather showered me with gifts; the trick was to speak a little louder, close to their ear; show your helpless expression, followed by the cutest smile, and all the chocolate was mine.
Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala, 05/08/2019: An outer view of the Government Sanskrit College in Thiruvananthapuram on August 05, 2019.Photo: S. Mahinhsa
When photos move
Traditionally, our home had the framed pictures of my grandparents put up in the place of pride, our sitting room. Over time, the ‘senior’ photographs moved; albeit slowly; not just as we changed homes, but from the sitting room to hallway; initially, to make room for my college graduation photo. In the next two decades, the photos moved again, from the hallway to the bedroom to accommodate our marriage photo and finally to the corridor, to allow display of colourful scribblings by the grandchildren, deeply meaningful and priceless only to the elders. Finally, the grandparent pictures had no place to go and was retired and relocated to the attic, not a sign of loss of respect, but ‘hierarchy algorithm’ and ‘storage space constraint’, as the computer geeks would put it. Slow translocation and migration to the attic, to give space to the younger new-gen is the way of life; it allows natural flow of the river of life.
A searching question
We were meeting for our college reunion, some of our group had become the ‘topmost’ doctors in the world. The discussions revolved around green card, H1B visa and Mercedes Benz; when a friend looked at me and asked ‘Tell me one thing, what made you decide to settle down in a small town like Thiruvananthapuram?’
THIRUVANANTHAPURAM, 10/11/2009: A view of Thiruvananthapuram Public Library building in Thiruvananthapuram. Photo: S. Mahinsha 10-11-2009
Suddenly, everyone fell silent and looked at me. “I always enjoy the company of the elders,” I said. “That’s fine, but with all your relatives gone, which elders’ company are you enjoying in Thiruvananthapuram,” joked my friend from New York.
‘Lord Padmanabhan,’ chipped in his American wife who had obviously checked out the history of Thiruvananthapuram. “I live in a neighbourhood where most are centenarians, and have left a mark in the pages of history,” I softly added. “I really enjoy their company.” “In a country where the life expectancy at birth is just 62 you have many centenarians?” the London-settled member of the Royal College commented. I kept quiet. Maybe, I should not tell them or maybe I should.
The science of stars
Right after Swathi Thirunal Rama Varma, the Maharaja of Travancore, took charge in 1813, he brought back the government headquarters from Kollam to Thiruvananthapuram, so that he can supervise it better. In 1829, a time when gaining knowledge was restricted only to the purview of the upper class, he created the first Public Library. In 1834, he started a free school, which later evolved to a high school and then to the now imposing University College. Apart form his passion for knowledge, music and fine art, the monarch’s keen interest in science made him look at the stars.
In 1837, he roped in John Caldecott, who was an industrial supervisor at Alleppey and brought him to Thiruvananthapuram, starting off the base work for the observatory, the first of its kind in India.
The Napier museum of Thiruvananthapuram was established in 1855 and opened to public in 1880. Conservation of wildlife was not even an agenda in 1857, when the Maharaja thought of a safe enclosure for animals — the zoo in Thiruvananthapuram was started in 1857 on a 55-acre land donated by the king. The Maharaja’s College, exclusively for women, took in students in 1864, when no one in the rest of the country thought about the need, reason, and logic to educate women.
The very next year, 1865, General Hospital started functioning, offering free treatment to the needy. Scientific treatment of mentally challenged people started in Thiruvananthapuram in the Mental Hospital in 1870. The Law College in 1875, the Sanskrit College and Ayurveda College in 1889 came last; just about 130 years ago. Centenarians for sure. And what a mark they left.
Cocooned in legacy
In a world dominated by cell phones, armed with social-media, high-speed instant global sharing and delete-proof storage, I feel comfortable in a neighbourhood of legacy and history built over centuries of trust. I would enjoy the fading and slow translocation as I progress to my sunset years, in the company of these illustrious centenarians. They are centenarians, who proudly defy the ‘hierarchy algorithm.’
Waking up to the aroma of the freshly brewed filter coffee and The Hindu is a bonus.
Dr. Tiny Nair
The writer is Head of the Dept. of Cardiology, PRS Hospital
tinynair@gmail.com
