Diaries of my great grandfather

My great grandfather Mylar Rao was born in 1868.  In all probabilities his schooling would have been in Mysore itself going by one pencil rough draft he had made in the 1890s for an application for a govt. job where he introduces himself saying that his father was 'in Mysore Council Service'.

It was the British era when the standard of education was high class. The positive British influence reflected at jobs people held.  Thanks also to our Mysore Maharajas several dedicated teachers from Britain were employed.  Discipline, good habits, sincerity and hard work were inculcated in schools but they also came from within the families, almost naturally.  Among the many 'good habits' was 'diary writing'.  Mylar Rao had fairly regularly kept up this practice almost right through, but was inconsistent towards his end in 1936.

This post is about just some of the entries he had made in them.
Where did I find these 18-20 diaries?

My grandfather, renting the ancestral house, moved to another in 1950.  Among the several old pieces of furniture was one wooden almirah, said to be full of 'unwanted' stuff.  It had been kept in a passage that was the staircase room which led to the space [rented] upstairs. My curiosity in the late 70s led me to open and investigate the contents of this almirah.  The black-painted doors were stuck with dust.  I force-opened, alert to the chance of cockroaches flying out! Luckily none, but only dead specimens, as if trapped in.  Books, papers, diaries, account books and letter correspondence - this was my actual interest for the old postage stamps - lay there!  Most of them were from Mylar Rao's lifetime.

[I used it for many years and this is how it looked upon painting.]

After a thorough dusting and screening, I segregated the items that were interesting and worth further preservation.  It was only in more recent years that I found Mylar Rao's diaries had some beautiful [copied] quotes, some incidents, his activities at work, his brief daily routine and some amusing self-instructions and admonishments. The oldest diary is from 1898 when he was 30 years old.  The little diaries and his handwriting are beauties in their own right.
Let me pick up a few pages that I found interesting.

Mylar Rao was working in various positions like Munsiff, Asst. Commissioner and Deputy Commissioner in the towns in and around Mysore between 1898 and 1926 [retirement].

Click on the images for readable view.  

"My conduct on the bench was rather regretable, caused partly by the unpreparedness of the lawyers and partly by my anxiety to turn out more work than it seems possible for me.  Story of miracles we should not possess a gift of which we do not know the right use." 

Left page of next day: "Conduct satisfactory. Strength of will can work miracles.  Cultivate it. Many people discontinue reading after they enter in to life.  I am one of them.  I should hereafter make it a point to devote at least a few hours every day in reading something."

Left page: "Mr. Shama Rao's arrival.  So far as manners, I am becoming a little rude.  I should not be so.  I must mend them and be more hospitable.  Supper at Mr. Krishna Rao's.  Work hard. Do not waste time."
Right page: "My boy is very delicate.  A blow yesterday made him make water.  I feel troubled nowadays at slight circumstances.  Do not know the reason why.  Have not finished arrears of work.  Must be more sharp in writing out judgments."

"Sorry that my behaviour in court was not as it ought to have been.  I was rather narrow-minded. There is no use of losing one's temper for the wickedness of others.  An opportunity must be waited and the lesson taught. Why should there be any more pa.... "

"Beware of borrowing things from others.  Had a fall from Cheluva Iyengar's machine.  The brake was a little bent."  [Machine = Bicycle]

"5.30 am. Was very slow in my work.  After a record is read, it is always necessary to take some time to consider the points to be prominently set forth in the judgment and arrange them.  My hurry has to some extent been the cause of my slackness.  Obligations make one a slave."

"Be slow to place yourself under the obligations of another person.  If possible, never place yourself in that position."

Death of his servant Puttappa is felt.  ".... faithful and an obedient servant, never failing in his duty, character found wanting in many a so called educated man."

May 1899.

"Rode on the bicycle from here to Bankipur and back again.  Owing to my rashness, I let the machine run into a pit, fell off it, and damaged two of the spokes.  Beware of running headlong." 

[They were all mud 'tracks' back then!]

Right page: "Entertained a new servant Nagappa by name.  Sudden illness and harshness of the throat, commencing at about 10 a.m." 

September, Nagappa dies.  He writes: "I am rather unfortunate in my cooks. Both of them were good people and both died.  God bless their souls."

This was printed at Krishna Vilas Press here.

May 1900... he writes "Must have a time-table and must work according to it.  Every night half an hour for Kanarese reading and another half an hour general reading.  Morning one hour for professional studies and the remainder for writing judgment. This seems to be a fair regulation of work.  May I be helped to continue this kind of work." 

He probably could not, as there are many blank pages! 

On the left page he regrets having left the 'shed' [may be he was renting it during his job outside Mysore] and on the right, he realzes..."My conduct in leaving the sheds where I was so comfortable and had such excellent company seems inexplicable.  The whole of this day my mind was disturbed.  Many a time did it strike me why I should not go back to the sheds and be as happy as ever.  Blessed be the Dr."

Left page: "Morning spent in cycling.  Afternoon wasted in idle work. Wrote to brother regarding the Upanayana of the boy.  Mother's wish must be respected.  A man can have only one person who can be called by that name."

Left page: "Went out shooting in the morning. Crocodile in the river. Duck - Bagged nothing after all.  Felt exhausted in the afternoon. Had a good nap."
Right page:  It is the last page - December 31, 1900:  ".... The apparent natural inclination of all people seems to be to utter a falsehood in all cases in which they think that the speaking of truth is against their interest in some way or other. Good bye to the 19th century."

Shooting?  I did not know that! And what a fuss the world made with "Y2K" - Year 2000!  The end of the 19th century passed just like any other day!

1917 diary. 

In his official capacity Mylar Rao was accompanying the 'guests' to the "Kheddas" - a method they used to trap wild elephants in the forests for taming them - and shooting trips.

Left page: "The Gaekwar went bison shooting today and bagged a good one in no time.  Very lucky."
Right page: "In the evening, we walked up to the Chirakulli Hill from where we were able to have a good view of the surrounding country.  It was one of the signal stations and by means of the telescope kept there, the temple and the bungalow on the Chamundi [hill] were clearly visible.  Excitement on account of a wild baby elephant coming away to camp." 

[There are some pictures of the Kheddas of those times in our album.]

Left page: "Traveled from Budipadaga back to Mysore.  Excitement in camp owing to a wild tusker having come to the crawl.  Yesterday the Maharaja shot a tusker and today the Maharani who was unsuccessful in the jungle where she had gone shot in the crawl the tusker which was giving a lot of trouble.  Piety among the educated is at a low point."

Right page: "H.H.'s guest Mr. Oomabhai was shewn the Sandal Oil Factory, the Jagan Mohan Palace and the Garage in the morning. In the afternoon, he was taken to Seringapatam and Krishnaraja Sagara. H.H. returned from Budipadaga this day." 

[Garage = the Palace Garage where the fleet of Royal Cars were kept.]

His diary writing had become irregular at times and there were a few blank ones  pages of which he used for copying small portions of articles esp. from newspapers [The Hindu] that interested him. This he did after he retired in 1926, but never failed to write his family account, which will be in a separate post.

In fact, I did try to imitate this type of diary and account writing for a few years. 

Royal Durbar Dress of Mysore

"Durbars" were held by the Indian Kings/Rulers to special invitees among the citizenry.  Mysore was among the great princely states of the country, ruled by able Kings. Invited to attend the Royal Durbar is a high privilege to anyone.  My great grandfather K.Mylar Rao, [click link for my post exclusively on him] was one among them, for his high repute in his duties in civil service.  There used to be a strict dress code to attend the Durbar.

When I consulted my Oxford Dictionary for the meaning of Durbar, it mentions "The court of an Indian ruler." 

To show how a Durbar was, I found this picture from the Mysore Palace Website. Observe the elite men in 'Durbar attire' and the King seated in the centre at the far end.  

Dresses were made in two combinations and they were given by the Palace authority itself.  Black coat and white pant; brown coat and cream colour pant.  The decoration and ornate work on the dress as well as width of gold lining on the turban was proportionate to the status of the wearer.  The more ornate, higher the status.  

Here are some old pictures we had at home, all framed up in those days, but I 'deframed' them into an album!

T.Ananda Rao, the then Dewan of Mysore in Royal Durbar Dress posing in front of Sir James Gordon statue [only part of the pedestal is visible] opposite District Offices.  He was Dewan from 1909 - 1912.  Dewan means a 'regional prime minister'.  It was a respected post. 

Another picture presumably taken on the same day as the first.  Here he poses with others in front of Sir James Gordon statue opposite District Offices.

T.Ananda Rao, sitting centre with others in Durbar dress.   Lavish work on Ananda Rao's dress can be noticed.

Now let me show the dress Mylar Rao wore.  It was the brown-cream combo.  In all probabilities, these were from the mid 1920s period. 

The pant's side liner has been removed.  In lieu of the turban, I've kept my father's "makmal topi" from the 1920s (now withering away). My father used to wear that cap when he was a young boy.  From the shortness of the trousers, length of the sleeves and the 'long coat' themselves, I can judge that I am taller my forefather.

Intricate work on the collar.

Intricate craftsmanship at the cuffs. This is the close-up.

Decorated cuff.

A button on the lovely woolen coat whose texture is simply superb.  Best quality materials and specialized workmen were involved in the dress' immaculate making.  Just looking at the stitches itself will give pleasure. It used to be wrapped up in a cotton cloth and preserved. Napthalene balls were put in the trunk often. As such, there is absolutely no attack by silverfish etc.  I notice a couple of missing buttons. 

My friend Vinay "Royal Mysore Walks" is already popular now.  He brought the Durbar Dress out of 'nowhere' to display the traditional royal grandeur of Mysore for the 2012 Dasara Season.  He is seen with the customers at Devaraja Market.  Picture from his facebook page. 

The days when we used to get our paddy

At the end of each harvest season our share of paddy used to be delivered at home in bullock carts. The good fortune of witnessing the grand arrival of paddy grown in our own land is mine.  I vividly remember  the (good) times which date to about 12-13 years backward of 1976.  The day it arrived was like a great festival at home. To watch the spectacle we would get up early.  When 'action' started it also attracted spectators from the neighbourhood.   

Let me paint a wee bit of background to that.

Five acres of fertile land at a village called Marulagaala near Srirangapatna, about 8 miles from Mysore was jointly purchased in 1902 by my great grandfather K.Mylar Rao (who was at that time posted as Munsiff at Holenarsipur) and his elder brother K.Subba Rao (who was a Pleader in Mysore).  

Subba Rao wrote a letter (picture below) to his younger brother informing the completion of the purchase formalities. They updated each other regularly on all family issues through letters.  It was leased immediately to a certain family of "Patels".

(Click on pictures to enlarge and read)

Loans were raised by them in addition to their savings from years of hard work.  It appears that getting large amounts of money was not easy in those times.  There are references in their correspondence about some acquaintance agreeing to sell 'Govt. of India Bonds' to lend them money.

Rice, as we all know is our staple food and the quantity consumed in olden days was quite voluminous.  The brothers' incomes were by no means large but their families certainly were, living together under one roof.  The (Hindu) Joint Family system was the normal thing. The purchase of land and getting substantial yield of paddy must have been a great relief. 

An older letter Subba Rao has written in 1898 says that he had purchased paddy from a person and stocked it in his house which was in "Fort" area of Mysore. There could not have been any life without rice as it was also an item from which various other dishes were prepared besides cooked rice for meals. 

With the death of  Mylar Rao in 1936 and Subba Rao subseqently, the total yield of paddy had to be divided equally among the four successors.  One of Subba Rao's sons was always different and tried to find fault in the dealings or complain.  His post card in 1943 gives a clue:

Now let me project some indelible memories:

The date when the farmers would bring our share of paddy was intimated beforehand by the Patel to my grandfather. So, that morning we would get up early as they always reached here before dawn.  We were all ears anticipating to hear the 'sweet sound' of the rattling wooden cartwheels as it turned at a distance towards our street.   In those days, an occasional bullock cart used to pass by and when something was heard we would rush out to see if it was ours. Our paddy was usually brought in two or three carts. When we noticed 'our carts' arriving on the lamp-lit street, 'they are coming, they are coming' we used to loudly announce joyfully and excitedly. We had no camera to capture all those moments and so there are no pictures of the dramatic occasion. This (net) borrowed picture gives an idea of the scenario.  

The long 8-mile walk for the bullocks with the paddy load culminated in front of our gate.  They would rest after being relieved from their yokes. I am unable to recollect what the bullocks were fed but I only guess the farmers brought with them some hay.  I think water to the bullocks was served in this vintage stone trough that lay beside our gate.  I brought this trough with me to our ancestral house when that house had to be vacated.   It is now serving me as a nice container for water lilies.

When everything was ready, the farmers would pull the cart in front of our small gate (then of wood) and unloaded the paddy by tilting it so that all paddy would fall inside of the gate in a huge heap - a fantastic sight to behold.  It occupied the area between our front door and the gate (a recent picture).  

The paddy now had to be transferred to a storage bin built inside a room.  The bin had two compartments having outlets near the bottom closed by sliding lids.  It was fun to watch the grains slide out on their own while taking paddy out later for filling into sacks.

Measuring was done by the farmers who accompanied the carts.  Someone in the family kept count, lest they missed and jumped (deliberately), which they were capable of!  The total tally was to come close to or be exact to that of the estimated measure provided by the Patel before delivering.

The very manner in which they counted the measures at the time of transferring was a thing to listen. Loud and clear he repeated the number till the next measure of a 'kolaga' was filled.  A kolaga is about 5 seers - roughly 5 kilos.

(Another picture borrowed from the web shows the 'kolaga' - the biggest one seen here)

They were superstitious about numbers.  They counted four as 'mooru mattondu' and five as 'mooru magadondu' (means one after three and two after three!).  Again, they would say 'six' and the next number was 'aaru mattondu' (six and the one after), '8, 9, 10 etc. followed as usual.  Here I found someone's blog about the '7'.  As a young fellow I amused myself sitting on the stone bench and sometimes walking on the heap to please myself but that angered the farmers because my stepping on it spread out the paddy.  Also, it was not to be stepped on because it was 'Goddess Annapooneshwari'!  

One farmer would sit on the bin wall to receive the basket and pour into the bin and one carried it from the counting man who filled the 'kolaga' measure and gave it to the man on the bin. I also went in to watch it too. Once the two compartments got filled, the left over paddy was packed in gunny sacks and stored in the store-room. The stock usually lasted a year to our largish family.

It took them a few hours to measure and fill in the entire paddy.  After some rest, they were ready for lunch. It was served on 'organic' plates prepared from Butea tree leaves which was an item that was always in stock at home. My grandmother herself, along with my mother and aunt cooked food specially to suit the farmers' taste and eating capacity.  Huge bronze and copper vessels were always there on the attic to be used for such occasions.  These huge vessels were earlier used daily in the kitchen as the family itself was so large!  It was a treat to watch them eat and enjoy their food.  After some resting they would put the bullocks under the yoke and prepare for their return journey to their homes. 

The Patel would also come with the team of farmers and I think this Patel was a descendant of the one to whom the land was first leased.  In his unique crackling voice he would enter into arguments with my grandfather when he visited his office at other times, probably to settle some issue related to the yield and the such.  There was no opportunity for us to visit our land though it as close as eight miles to our city.

After a few weeks, the first spotting of this tiny little golden coloured rice moths (like the one pictured here - Corcyra cephalonica) signaled the beginning of a nuisance.  They would infest the paddy and fly all over the house for a period of time. Disinfestation methods had to be adapted on certain occasions when they were really too much of a bother than their doing damage to the grains.

When the paddy was naturally cured over time, it was time for taking a sufficient portion of the stock to the Rice Mill which was in adjacent Geeta Road. The mill has now given way to a huge apartment.  A bullock cart would be hired to take the paddy, now packed in gunny sacks.  I would sometimes sit on the sack and get a free ride to the mill on the open cart or run behind it.  The smell and noise of the mill was typical.  

The mill operator would weigh the sacks, record the figure and pour the contents into the large funnel at ground level. A conveyor would take the paddy grains upwards in small quantities for processing.  The passing of the grains through the vertical conveyor tube could be seen through the little peep window provided on the conveyor tube iteself.

My mother would inspect the milled rice and suggest the proper amount of adjustments for the level of polish that was required.  A small quantity would be collected with minimum polish exclusively for my father who liked this 'brown rice' as he knew the nutritional value of it.  The more the polish, the more the loss of nutrients and amino acids (I remember he used those words) but more the visual appeal (whiteness!).

(Rice we bought recently - to show 'brown rice')

The final product was collected in gunny sacks.  I need not elaborate the process here, but the huge heap of bran let out as 'waste' through a huge pipe was yet another sight to behold.  Milled rice sacks were weighed and taken back home in the cart.

The next stage was cleaning the rice to make it fit for cooking. The maid servant, her daughter or some other lady who was willing to do this were engaged and it would take many days of work.  It required patience and sharp eyes.  Little stones and weed seeds came from the rice field along with paddy.  Paddy grains also managed to pass through the mill.  They had to be culled out from the milled rice.  These inedibles  even escaped the sharp (and sometimes careless) eyes of the ladies who winnowed and went into the cooking pot and then finally got caught between our teeth...... 'krrrr'!  It was a nasty experience for those 'lucky' ones who found those tiny stones!  My grandfather used to say 'you must be strong enough to digest stones'!  Once I found about 28 (I counted and lined them at the edge of my plate) tiny stones when it made a sound on the steel meal plate.  One or two was normal, nothing was something!  Probably when that 'record' happened, I had got the bottom most part of cooked rice and even now I cannot imagine how so many!

It was such a great boon to mankind, I must say, when a "Destoner" machine was developed long later and became an integral part of the mill. I reckon this was not happy news for the dentists!

Mother Earth was not spoiled at that time like now, with pesticides and inorganic fertility boosters.  Most farmers knew only organic farming methods and it could be for this reason, rice was sweetish and all the preparations from it were tasty and my grandmother was an expert in culinary skills too.

House sparrows were aplenty in those times and were dependent on grains and seeds easily available to them by various means.  Hand cleaning of grains at home and throwing the bad ones out was enough for them and they knew that the ladies who were culling rice would sprinkle the broken grains  for them. They lived with us asking us to tolerate their nuisance when they made a nest in the crevices of the ceiling. Now not a single sparrow is seen in our locality due to various reasons.  How much fun it was to listen to stories of the crow and sparrow (kaagakka-gubbakka).

Beggars visiting houses were many in those days and they were offered a fistful of raw rice whenever they came asking for alms.  Broken rice (Akki nucchu) was given in small amounts to some poor people also.

About 3 quintals of cleaned rice would be made to stock and it was expected to last one year.  Protecting it from infestation was a problem.  Sometimes, mixing fresh neem leaves inside the sacks would help greatly.  I was curious to see the bottom of the paddy bin and to know how and why paddy slid out from the opening!  Simple. The bottom was sloped!

I draw a line here, you will understand why!
___________________________________________________

Like a bolt from the blue, in 1976, the Govt. enforced the Urban Land Ceiling Act and snatched away lands that were not tilled by the owners themselves.  In return they handed a very measly compensation after many years of making the land losers to run from pillar to post to get it. Many people in the country lost their lands and livelihoods because of this Act and its implications were myriad.  

Losing possession of land that provided food for the families of the farmers and ours was something too bitter to swallow.  The sadness in my grandparents was understandably deep as they could not think of life without their land that had supplied food for 72 years.  My grandfather died the same year (at 80) and no one knows if he had actually taken it to heart.  My grandmother also followed him only two years later.  Shock was one too many for her.

Thereafter, buying paddy was the only option.  The very next year, a known person cheated us with a very poor quality paddy.  Lesson learnt, the elders decided that they must buy rice instead of paddy even though it pinched the budget.

I am very sure that these are the very grains grown in our land and used by my grandmother in her unique artwork.   The rice picture was made by her in 1935, yes 1935 and the paddy basket is from the 1960s. These are just two of many she made out of 'our grains'.

(click on picture to enlarge)

With our lands gone, procuring paddy was out of the picture, there was no purpose of having the paddy storage bin.  A few years later it was broken down. It was sad but inevitable.  That house itself is a memory now (another story), but as a memento, I have salvaged one sliding lid of that bin, which I have fixed on a door as a latch!

Here:

Old testimonial returns to where it originated

Just out of curiosity, I happened to google-search if "The Hindu Theological High School, Madras" still existed. My great grandfather K.Mylar Rao was a teacher in that school when it was started in 1889 (to 1891). There were two papers (pictured above) that he had got from the Head Master in 1891 when he left that job on the lookout for a better one. On the left is a certificate (notice the 'Aum' on top of it) written in beautiful script and on the right is a letter (read the language!) accepting his resignation.

I do not know the circumstances when he changed the spelling in his name from Malhari Rao to Mylar Rao.

To my surprise and utter delight, the search took me to the school's website. Immediately, I thought why not I return those two papers to the school because it had such a long history.

I learnt that the school was founded by Sri P.Sivasankara Pandiyaji . I reckoned that his original signature in the two papers might be of some interest to the school authorities now. My e-mail through the 'contact us' button on the website to the school offering the two documents (pictures were attached) was promptly answered by the present head master in a most enthusiastic tone. The school was really interested. The beautiful signature of the founder Sri Pandiyaji himself reveals much of his character. It came as no surprise that my forefather who having worked with such a great man, had risen to such heights.

Here is a brief on the school - The Hindu, 2006.

After a couple of e-mail exchanges the two original papers in reasonably good condition, were packed and dispatched to the school. Mylar Rao had procured them for a purpose at that time and since that purpose had been well served, they went back to where it originated, 118 years later, after I developed serious curiosity and those two papers developed history over all those years. It gave me immense pleasure in sending them back. The head master expressed his happiness in his message but before that, he had already dispatched me a school dairy and brochure as compliments.

The reputation of the school is recorded here in these messages. (click).

These were among the bunch of testimonials Mylar Rao collected in 1891 to support his endeavours. Around the same time, he had collected one from Marimallappa's School, Mysore, where he was a teacher before he went to Madras and from Central College, Bangalore where he did his B.A in English and Mathematics in 1888. He had put up the thread-tag himself to this bunch, in all likelihood in 1891 itself. I could have thrown them off any day because they were all faded old papers, but no. The language in them appealed to me, reflecting on the quality of education that was imparted at that time.


Now I had to cut the thread-tag away for good reason.