ORATORY

IN THE 1950's a number of great speakers used to visit Madurai often. People gathered in large numbers in Thilagar Thidal or Tamukkam grounds or the Race Course to hear these orators who kept them spellbound.

Warm ups


But before the good speakers arrived, some half-baked speakers got hold of the mike and held forth in what they thought was great oratory. They imitated the mannerisms of the big ones, exaggerating them to the point of caricature. The audiences were hugely amused. These were considered light interludes before the serious business of the day began.

Once the big speakers arrived on the scene and took over, the crowd got totally involved, appreciating every nuance and gesture. Among the orators we flocked to listen to were Annadurai, Periyar, Rajaji, Nedunchezhiyan and others. We had once listened to Nehru too. But we were more captivated by his looks and style rather than by his speech. He threw several garlands at the crowd, and one of these happened to fall around the neck of a young woman. "I am married to Nehruji, I am married to Nehruji" she yelled, and the crowd burst into laughter and cheers.

Rajaji, merry and sad


I particularly liked the speeches of Rajaji. He had neither the linguistic flamboyance of the DMK speakers not the iconoclastic vehemence of Periyar. But he had a simple and effective way of communicating great truths without sounding pedantic.

He was once asked to inaugurate a club called Thozhamai Kazhagam in the Udipi Lodge in West Masi Street. Sensing that it was a light-hearted occasion, he scrupulously avoided politics and even literature, unlike the Dravidian leaders who would have made most of any occasion for their own ends. Rajaji made a fifteen minute speech in which he played on the word `thozhamai', and kept the audience in stitches. When we remembered that speech in the months that followed, it always brought a smile
to our lips. A few years later Rajaji made a speech in the Tamukkam grounds which was in stark contrast to the earlier one. This was after he and Nehru had fallen apart. Nehru had made a comment about Rajaji's "dotage", and that had hurt the veteran leader very deeply. The speech in Tamukkam was so sad that it brought tears to our eyes. And though we adored Nehru, we were angry with him for causing all this anguish. At the end of the speech there was not much applause. People walked away silently, feeling indignant.

Periyar's punch


Periyar used to visit American College quite often. His speech never had the niceties that Annadurai and others flourished on. It was blunt, and frequently featured the onion and the teardrop. Nevertheless it did pack a punch. He certainly made you think, even though for a short time. While the DMK leaders lulled you with rhetoric, Periyar rudely shook you awake to his kind of reality.

Though Annadurai was popular with many sections of the crowd, Nedunchezhiyan was our favourite DMK speaker. He had a thrilling way of modulating his voice, matched by appropriate body movement. Though we knew there was not much depth in his speeches, we enjoyed the light moments that they abounded in.

The scalp magic


Muthuramalinga Thevar was another big crowd puller. His anecdotes about Nethaji pleased the masses immensely. And the few sentences of English he spoke always evoked loud and long applause even though the major part of the audience didn't understand it. We once waited for him from 9 PM to 1AM. There was a slight but steady drizzle too. And yet we waited. When he arrived at 1AM he said, "Your devotion to me has made me feel that it would be inadequate even if I made footwear for you with my scalp." The crowd was so pleased that it didn't mind when he said that he had to leave immediately, and left.

In our heart of hearts we knew that most of these speakers were exploiting our gullibility. But still we enjoyed listening to them.

12.2.05

SOME YOUNG FRIENDS

I HAVE always liked playing with little children. After my retirement I had more time to devote to this pleasure, and I cultivated friendship with several neighbourhood kids.

We played some games like carom, Chinese checkers, draughts, monopoly and so on. But I insisted on their playing chess and scrabble at least now and then, since chess was good exercise for the brain and scrabble helped develop one's vocabulary. We also had some interesting conversations. They learnt something from me and I from them.

Sometimes I offered them a book of fairy tales, which they could keep if they managed to narrate one of the stories to the gathering. Some did this, and retained the book. Some others resorted to some subterfuge or the other to keep the book without telling any tales.

All for a pen


I noticed that though very young, some were quite calculative, and went all out to get something out of me. There were a couple of girls who said they wanted me to teach them how to draw. So I started a quick sketch, asking them to observe the procedure carefully. But their attention was not so much on the drawing as on the Rotring pen that I was using.

"How much does this pen cost?" one of them asked. I told her it was given to me by a friend from England. "Isn't it available here?" asked another one. I said I didn't know. Do you have another pen like this?" And by now the drawing was forgotten, and acquisitiveness was to the fore. But in the midst of this hectic grab-what-you-can activity pleasant surprises cropped up too.

A surprise gift


One evening a very small girl called Shanmughi (Shannu) called on me. She was too small to take part in the games with the other children. She sometimes sat and watched us play. Now she had come alone. She had a toy train in her hand, which she presented to me. "What's this for?" I asked her. "You can play with it," she said. And then she went on: "You are giving so many things. We also should give you something." I was too stunned for words. Shannu walked off shyly. Later I asked her father about this gift. He didn't know anything about it, but he was thrilled by his little daughter's gesture. That train is now one of my prized possessions, the only gift I ever received from a little child.

Sometimes I came across a child with some ambition. One boy, Venkatesh, had a single-minded desire to enter the Guinness Book of Records by learning the definitions of several thousand words. He has not got into the book yet, but I am sure he will achieve his ambition someday.

Naachu


The most remarkable of all these children was eleven-year-old Nachammai (Naachu for short). She had enormous eyes that bulged slightly, a thick mop of unruly hair and an animated look of enthusiasm on her face. So I called her cartoon girl. She told me some story or the other she had heard in her school. And when she narrated the story, her face came alive, and she was fascinating to watch. Even a dull story sounded good when she told it.

When she started playing scrabble with me, I told her that I would give her a prize if she scored 100 points. And though her vocabulary was not so good, she tried hard for several weeks, and finally scored a hundred. After giving her the gift I told her that she would have to score 200 for the next gift. After striving hard for about a month she scored the 200. We moved from that house, and our sessions came to an end. Wonder how many points Naachu would eventually have scored. She was a model of true grit and determination. I am sure she will go far in life.

These children have given me memorable moments of pleasure. Hope there will be more.

26.2.05