Thank you, Marthanda Tondaiman?

When guests who aren't your relatives offer you something, don't assume that its always going to be free. I learned that the hard way. This dude, my chaperon, kept begging me to death if I wanted any sweets. I tried to tell him no, no, and no. But he persisted so I went to this counter where they sold hulvas and other oiled, soiled sweets. When I bought the items, he told me the amount and that I had to pay for myself and for him. I could have killed him but he thought he was "sweet."

Another problem was the Tamil strangers who kept asking me to fill their immigration card when they were entering and leaving Chennai airport. When I entered India, I had this guy at the baggage claim asked me where he was going and what it said on the ticket. What? Another time, I had this lady give me her card when the plane was about to land and said nothing. So, I sat there and did nothing. Finally, she asked me in Tamil to fill out the card and told her story about why she was there and so on. I filled it out. Geez, Louise! It wasn't over, yet. When I landed in Trichy from Malaysia, another dude tried to put his immigration card in my hand. I motioned with my fingers in giving me some cash. He shut up right there and filled the card out.

Mr. or King Marthanda---I don't know who you are or what you are. But your insignificance made a lasting impression on the town of Pudukkottai. Funny thing, you didn't understand why family and leaders made an issue of your insignifcance, but they did. You certainly showed that you can be an Englishman without leaving your homeland. Did they allow you to hang out with "other Indians" when you were a child? If so, did they beat you in games like kabaddi and then noticed that they lost to English kids? There excuse, the English are better. So, you became one.

Word had it that you went to England to study literature, academics, and women. Did being a chosen king at eleven put pressure on you or was it the Dewan (city manager)Seshayya Sastri that tried to counsel you in not spending so much on travel and horse races? Instead, he wanted you to rule with authority and bring modernization to Pudukottai. Too much, pressure or you didn't want the pressure? Did you feel disconnected with the Indian people and heck, did you feel that everything went to the British and that wasn't going to change?

Finally, did you love Molly or just wanted to prove a point? The point that nobody cares about the people of Pudukkottai including the Dewan and King George. Whatever it is, you certainly left a lasting significance in secret and the town stills pays for it. But it wasn't your fault. You tried to be honest in your endeavors. Maybe if anything, you will be appreciated for that by important folks. Certainly, the people of Pudukkottai appreciate you. A street is named after you.

Its The Women, Stupid

My cousin-in-law mentioned this when he bought a new dog for his mother. The dog would have understand Tamil, Malay, and English. Man, talk about confusion or is that Confucius. Mine is just trying to understand Tamil and English. I can't even read and write in Tamil but my English is attrocious when it comes to communication. Then its trying to understand both cultures. Not that I really care but no way I would try to bring both. When it comes to women, I like American. Why? Because I'm here and not there.

My take is this, you are who the women you like. The problem is do the women like you? If the women don't like you, don't mess with them. I can tell you this, I was born in Chicago and it sure does matter to me. However, my autism screws up everything and everyone. But since I was in India, I was happy than "pig in bleep." Funny part of that, I wasn't even trying to screw up. I just did.

Good ole Malar akka, still kept trying to hook up me but she didn't bargain with me though. She has been suffering alot with family and all. The smartest person in our family by far and that includes Malaysia uncle and dad. Before that I went to the hardest working cousin in our family, Ihila akka. Both females and the subject of marriage dominated the conversation. It kind of reminded me of a quote by grandmother "who cares if they are PhD's or no degrees."

I'm reminded of this story about the Pudukkottai king from the early 20th century, Marthanda Thondaiman (1875-1928). Controversy surrounded by this man. He grew up wanting to English which he was good at: well-educated, well-versed, and well-mannered. However, he was a bit too westernized to his own family and the British empire when he married an Australian, high-society girl named Molly Fink (He was 40; she was 20).

The King George V wanted him to marry an Indian so they can collect Indian taxes and for him to maintain the respect of an Englishman. Marthanda's family wanted British support to maintain their status. Both camps didn't recognize the marriage of King and Rani but the people of Pudukkottai gave a big welcome to the Groom and Bride after their wedding in Australia. But due to the King's rejection, Marthanda and his wife left Pudukkottai after a few months, never to return. Both their ashes still remain in London. They gave birth to a son named Sydney who never inherited the riches from his family.

On my last day in India, I was at a national park on this beach some seventy miles from Chennai with my step-mom's relative. The attendant charged about two hundred rupees to foreigners and eight rupees to Indian citizens. To be cheap with my best Tamil (with a southern accent), I said I was an Indian citizen. Then, he asked me where I lived and I said Pudukkottai. Finally, he asked for an address and said One Marthanda Road. He let me in.

You Can't Force History

Before this trip, my sister, Rathi, discussed with me about getting a tape recorder or writing things that my 94 year old grandmother has to say. I thought for a millisecond and said "I'll think about the matter." Never did. I never thought of myself as a journalist but someone who can dig up dirt for good or bad. The death of Billy Ray Wright comes to mind for instance. Mr. Wright has public documentation in existing in Charlotte, NC from 1944 to 1962 from records, city directories, and microfilms at the city public library. With my own grandmother, these resources are unavailable then and now in Pudukkottai District where she was born and raised.

However, those are just documentaions. The real history is the oral ones and what the person is about. They are the tough ones because nobody wants to talk freely but with some editing. With Billy, I tried to ask his family and classmates through the internet but family said nothing and classmates who did know him said, "Nice guy this, nice guy that." With my grandmother before Malaysia, it was when I'm going to get married. When I asked about the past, it was yes/no, what date, and what period.

When I came back to Pudukkottai, I just laid in bed and watched cricket. Meanwhile, my uncle and cousin, Senthil (sorry about adding more grey to your hair) went back and forth to city offices to allow me to stay in Pudukkottai for a week. Apparently, I violated an Indian law when I left for Malaysia. You can only come back two months after you leave India. I came back within a week. Those agencies will play the red tape game of not letting you leave town till you pay the cash. They have these books to document those. Those books are so big and dusty, they put those old Greek tablets to shame. Those goverment buildings are not computer automated but high-rank folks in government have them.

During the whole time, I was laying in bed and mulling around. This house servant who gave me tea which seemed like every hour who was getting disgusted with my behavior of not wanting to do anything. Particularly with my grandmother sitting downstairs by herself with nobody to talk to and is in excruciating pain at 94. The house servant said in a nice coersive way that I should go down and talk to her. I did albeit, reluctantly. Here comes the marriage talk.

Yes, the talk ended up being about marriage but I learned some interesting aspects of her history. Some too detailed to write but some I could mention. When I was younger, I had skin issues and use to scream when they tried to scrub my skin with soap and lotion. She mentioned about my sister, Kamini, her surgery just after birth, and how she cared for her. When she was in Chicago around 1974, she saw this guy throw a snowball at another kid who fell to the ground (I heard a story about this on reelradio.com from 1974). Likewise, she was trying to cook rice on a kitchen stove in Baltimore and set it on fire. Finally, she talked about her life how she had to raise her sister's two kids at fourteen when she died of typhoid in her early twenties.

Her memories really made me undertand the person she is and the person she became (I now understand why my relatives scrubbed me so hard when giving me a bath as a youngster). Grandmother is still alive and Billy is gone. I remember these folks in Atlanta would want to know more about their history of their relatives in Tamilnadu. Grandma had some antedotes about these folks when I visited her. My thought said, go ask grandma. She knows more than you think but don't force it out of her.

Its Random

When Sheela dropped me off at the bus station and gave me a hug, I started to recollect about my trip. First, I want to give all thanks who saw me from February 19-24, 2010. You all were great. Oh yes, thanks for the food. My weight got to be at 200 lbs. The first time I ever reached that milestone. LOL. Most importantly, you have given memories that will last me a lifetime. I was told that I could bring a 100, 000 U.S. grand and retire but said no way and I didn't know why. It was a feel thing.

My first recollection is seeing my uncle's 1961 Mercedes Benz parked in the garage with the Lions club emblem on the grill. I kept staring at the car like I did when I first noticed our 1975 Oldsmobile parked in the garage. A hypnotic effect. Next, there is this park with a walk path and a football (soccer) field surrouned by these small restaurants and shops nearby. I think either the Iraqi embassy was nearby. Finally, Bala and Urmilla taking me to a Chinese restaurant. That tiger beer got me as well as the food amount. I loved how people inside seemed so friendly and carefree. Likewise, some time later, they took me outside to this vendor that served beef or chicken jerky on a stick. You saw the Malay youth having a good time, chilling with each other. Nice night to do so.

Sheela took me to see Percy Jackson. Decent movie but didn't meet the hype. I love the walkway behind that mall where a pond, children's playground, and a bridge meet. A couple of days before, we both were talking about the old Newhart show from the 70's. The opening intro of him walking to his office reminded me of that place with the surrounding buildings. Most of the buildings are new with those metal plexi-glass except this one which is a yellow wall plastered bank building. This building had a sealed ledge on each floor, about 6 stories high with a radio antenna on top. It reminded of building in Miami from the 50's.

When I came back from the Maleeka trip, I had to walk to the doctor's office about a mile or two away. Sheela gave me detailed instructions on how to get there. It was a bit of a drizzle but it held up long enough for me to get there. On the way, I asked somebody where this street that Sheela wrote (did I tell you that she even diagrammed the street?). Even though she spoke Malay, she nodded yes that I was on the right street. While I was walking, there was this bus stand where these uniformed school kids were waiting. Everyone seemed to be festive except this obese kid with a pen in his pocket. Though, everything was cheery, there was a secretness vibe about Kuala Lumpur.

I started feeling this when we visited this auntie, Lali akka, her husband, and her daughter, Ramya. They showed this movie with the daughter acting in this scene where does back flips to break the bank security at a bank (incredible). They invited us for dinner at this Malay restaurant, I think. I like that drink that I ordered. Non-alcoholic. But still this feeling stuck with me. When Bala took me back home, talking about Kuala Lumpur, and apartments, the vibe took a hold of me.

It wasn't till I got back home and came across May 13 on wikipedia that I realized what I was feeling. Whoah, Nellie. But it explained a lot of things me about the city's vibe. You sense the helpless of the conflict with the youth of Malaysia. They keep it to themselves and stay within their group unless its the classroom or seminars. But once graduation, time to seperate. I hope the ethnic groups can get together and not fight each other for Western money and trade. People working together in the open is much better than people working behind close doors.

The Man, The Myth and The Legend

I remember meeting my Malaysian uncle in 1978. It was India at his home village of Thanjur close to a town called Ariamalum. I recall the hype before he got there. Everyone in the village seemed excited that he was coming. He was celebrity of sorts being the first doctor from the village, I believe. Definitely, the first in our family. My dad came second. I remember when he came grandfather's house, he slept on his cot. To sleep in my grandfather's cot or even touch it was an absolute no, no. But it was the uncle and he slept on the cot.

I realized what kind of man he was and I wasn't sure but I understood something about status (didn't know that word but knew the feeling). Yet, I didn't seem awed by him at all like everyone else was. I couldn't figure out how he was my uncle since he wasn't dad's brother. I never met my aunt or if I did, it never occured to me that she was related to dad's. It never registered that she could marry him and that he is my uncle. He seemed to be another person to me.

Fast forward to 2010, still the same guy with the short, cropped brylcream-style hair at age 84, close to 85. I went to his office which lays in the middle of Chinatown and Indian town. Nearby is this rail for subways. Lot of old buildings with the plaster styles from early 1900's. His building is a three story building. He is an internist practicing since 1953 in Kuala Lumpur. Still works 7 days a week with two half days (Malaysian government! Fix his tiles due to the flood and his building. Its congested. He earned it!). Its a family affair with Bala, Shanti, and Krishnan working for him. His patients for most of his career were Malays and Chinese who suffered injuries during the Japanese occupation of Malaysia. He'll treat anybody with various ailments but he is old school. He believes in exercise therapy and pharmaceutical remedies.

My sister got tore her ACL and was planning to have surgery. Uncle was astonished by her decision to do that. He said that he would treat her knee with a program of "walk and steroids." He is a tough guy but not that rough doctor. He ran an organized practice but some ailments as my former boss would say "rub some dirt on it." I don't think he believed in surgery except when it was absolutely necessary when other methods have failed. With patients, he treated with respect and professionalism. And he saw about hundreds of them on a daily basis. Very meticulous with patient records and knew what drugs to treat each patient. Sometimes, he could do without looking at the chart when the patients came to his clinic

During this trip, I enjoyed talking to him during breakfast. I enjoyed listening to his stories in his days of running track for his medical school, talking about growing up in the village, and mentioning about relatives like dad. He also talked about politics current and matching them with historical perspective. Likewise, he enjoyed talking about religion and is a avid reader literature like Shakespeare. He told dad, he couldn't understand my southern accent but he enjoyed my company.

He would make a great bio of what it took for him to be a doctor. He was friends with the first President of Malaysia, member of the Lions Club, and involvement with Malaysian soccer clubs in the 50's. With every great man comes a great woman and he had that with my aunt. He is the inspiration of our family for success because he showed the way to achieve the goal. Dad and others who became doctors did different things and were different people but Shanmuga Sundaram was the first and always will be. Grandpa knew that to get out of his way.

Digging Up Facts

As I got back, I thought about the day and that church. I couldn't understand why the dude couldn't mention one paragraph about the church. That was true with my cousins. They talked about mosques and Hindu churches and some Christian churches. Shanti mentioned about going to Catholic school in high school but I think it was in India and Bala talked about going to a Christian school during his younger days in Kuala Lumpur called St. Mary's Cathedral, an Anglican church. I'm not sure if Raja and Sheela went there but the conversation never veered toward Christianity concerning Indians especially Tamils. I did mention one who converted from Hinduism to Catholicism but that got shot down really quick.

One fact that I did uncover about Tamil Methodist Church in Malacca. The entrance that I went was not an entrance to the church but an office or storage place. It looked nice with a small, triangular arch roof with tiles in the middle for support and a carport on the side. Only when we left, I realized where the main building was which was few yards adjacent from the building that I went which the gates were locked. The main building had that triangular roofing that hovered the building with glass doors. If I just taken a few more steps, I would have seen it and found out truth myself.

As it was, I'm looking up the Internet for the facts. The church did start in 1908 but it involved four groups with Chinese (Perkanan and Mandarin), Indian (Tamils), and Malays. It was called the Kubu Methodist Church. These groups became Methodists due to missionaries who came to Malacca around the late 19th century. From private homes of donors, these missionaries disciple leaders from each group to be lead pastors. An English pastor translated the Bible into the Malay language and formed a Tamil congregation. He tried to make the sermon an English one to maintain unity. However, this proved to be unsuccessful as eventually the Chinese and Malays each built their own churches with the Tamil group keeping the historic building in 1965 and changing the name. This isn't the only Tamil Methodist church in Malacca but there are others in Kuala Lumpur, Penang, and etc.

I'm not a Christian but I'm Tamil. I find it interesting that there would be a Christian Congregation of Tamil people. In Malaysia, the population is about 28.5 million and 2.5 million of those are Christians. The total population of Indians are 2.5 million. There are 192,000 Indian Christians from all denominations but 7,800 of them are Tamil Methodists. Seventy percent of Indians in Malaysia are Tamils. Also, 500,000 Tamils are Muslim in Malaysia. In historical perspective, Tamil Muslims are responsible for bringing Islam to Malaysia during the 6th century. These Tamils were converted to Islam by Arab traders who came to south India in the 5th century.

These numbers really don't mean much but it does show that Tamils don't follow one religious category. Tamils have a historical lineage to their respective religion. Its funny how that no mentions this fact because it is supposed to be assumed that Tamils are all Hindus who are influenced by Islam and Christianity through schools and culture. Yet, historically, they had their own deity and were converts to Hinduism. Likewise, they were converts to Buddhism and Jainism during the Pallavas,Chola, and Pandyan periods. In short, everyone is a convert no matter how long or short their history. Next time, the guide should talk about that church as well.

Whose Malacca?

The tour bus consisted of English styled tourists. They were from England (duh), Australian via Scotland, and others. There was this couple from France, I believe, a lady from Korea and another lady from Canada living in Bahrain, Saudi Arabia who sat beside me. I think she worked in publishing of some sorts. The standout were these two Anglo-Indian ladies from Burma, living in Australia. They complained about the tour guide being a little hurried and him carrying this MFIIC (Mother F***in Indian in Charge) attitude. I have to say that they were a bit slow as well as I on the tour. The rest of the gang followed along and sympathized with the man's vicissitudes with his boss who was constantly called to see if he was going to beat the KL's 6 o'clock traffic. He didn't.

After a long bus ride, we stopped at this area of a Chinese deity shrine. They sold crafts outside. Nearby, there was a grave for Chinese Muslims and some distance away, a Chinese burial shrine for worshippers of Chinese deities. Adjacent from the site was a memorial for Chinese soldiers during the Japanese occupation from 1942-1945. As the bus was moving, I noticed houses on these wooden stilts. Malays and Chinese intertwined with each culturally, religiously, and biologically is the impression I got from the guide.

The tour proceeded to this fort called St. John's. Along the way, there were churches built by Portuguese and the Dutch. It was interesting what the occupying groups did to the previous occupants shrines. The Dutch preserved a lot of the Chinese buildings except the mosques. That was true of the Portuguese. Both groups built churches. Portuguese, Catholic. Dutch, Protestant. Both "burned the evidence" of Muslim presence but for British intervention not all has been lost. They preserved the mosques before them and allowed new new ones to be built was during their occupation. Likewise, they preserved Portuguese and the Dutch ones. But they converted one for an Anglican church and another for a military fort.

I got lost on the tour when I had to go the bathroom really bad after St. John's. They were going to leave without me but I ended up coming across them. It was impossible to see everything, there was too much to cover even the guide said that this was a cliff note version of the tour but he was very knowledgeable but rushed. Luckily, we ate lunch at a Chinese restaurant but this one didn't serve egg rolls and they took a long time to bring the food. Those two ladies played a role in this one. I got to know them better. Both are teachers who left Burma after independence. They both mentioned that the country got worse after independence with corruption and discrimination. Both yearned for the return of British rule.

I loved looking at the ocean shore because it looked so clear on this hot day. The bus parked itself in the middle of Malacca town. This area is where you saw all three groups live and do business. You saw Malay, Chinese, and Indian stores in old plastered yellowish buildings. About a few steps away in front of me, I noticed this church which the sign read Tamil Methodist Church, 1908. Yet, the guide didn't take us there. Instead, we moved a few yards ahead to this district where there were Buddhist temples, a Hindu temple and a Indian mosque . I don't remember any other Christian temples because I explored that area pretty well. Heck, got me a lottery ticket for one ringet. But not a single word from the guide. I mentioned it to the Canadian lady, she was pleasantly surprised and wanted to take a picture of the place. Never brought mine.

After touring the streets with the weather about 90 degrees, we left about 4 p.m. to try to beat traffic but like I said before, he didn't beat the traffic. When we got back, it was about 7 p.m. They got to the K.L city limits around 5:30 but not enough lanes to handle that kind of traffic and it started to rain. When the bus got back to the station, I was one few guys on the bus because everyone else was dropped off at their respective hotels. His boss came and started to read the riot act but I agree with the guide through a nod that it wasn't his fault. I was happy with everything else but bothered by his censorship concerning Tamil Methodist Church. Time to do the research.