I was born in Parassini and have been living in Dharmadatta for more than three decades. The city of Thalassery starts barely a kilometer away from my residence. Eternal fellowship with that city. So I can say that I am from Thalassery. But my country is fiery. It would be more or less correct to say that it is old or old. Aduthila, Vengara Chengal and Neruvambram can be expanded to include nearby areas.
As a writer, I am most indebted to the land and its people, all of these areas. This is the age of global man. A significant section of the latest generation of Keralite youth is desperate for jobs and accommodation abroad. For those who are not, their homeland is not a big deal. For those whose objects and cultural experiences from all over the world have become part of everyday life, land should have no meaning beyond the present living space. I'm a little old-fashioned in terms of my emotional connection to the country. The areas that have occupied the most space in my memories and thoughts are the Madayi Rock and the areas around it. The notion that history is primarily local history is being propagated around the world. That feeling is very strong in our country too. Today, even the school children of that time have a lot of historical information about any part of Kerala. It is too late for me to begin to understand the historical significance of Madayi. The area is a treasure trove of facts that are invaluable to historians, researchers and cultural scholars. Although not supported by any of them, for me the most important place in the world is Eripuram, Madayipara and the surrounding villages.
LET'S START WITH THE NAME
My first poems were published in Chakram, a magazine published from Kannur in the late 1960s, and in Desamitram Weekly, a literary magazine run by young people from Thalassery to Kasaragod. At that time I was writing under the name of Eripuram Prabhakaran. Later, when I started writing first for Deshabhimani Weekly and then for Deshabhimani Weekly, I found NP. The new name Eripuram was adopted.
The name Eripuram is derived from the local mythology which means the city where Cupid was burnt. After the monsoon season, the locals experience that Eripuram is a place where the entire heat of the vast Madayi rock is absorbed and burned. It was read somewhere during school life, and the Portuguese translated the name of the place into their language, which means "city on fire". (Perhaps this is information heard by someone.) This information was obtained at a time when the source of the information was not known to be important. However, in view of all this, I named the fictional village, which is partly Eripuram, in my novel.
The bed of Madayipara seems to be attached to all the lands of this region, including Eripuram. At one time, the rock covered more than 600 acres. Depending on the seasons, the visual and emotional experiences of the rock can vary greatly.
During the Onam season, Madayipara is a rock of cuckoos, black flowers and lush greenery. For those returning from the full market in late March or early April, it is a blazing rock in the sun. Madayipara will be the largest landmark in the human memory of Vengara, Pazhayangadi, Aduthila and Eripuram. Krishnanmash, Chandrangadan and other nature lovers who have been in the field for many years with the motto of conservation of Madayipara have a lot to say about the historical and ecological significance of this rock. They are right. But despite all that, I think the protection of Madayipara is a great social need. It is impossible to describe how this vast expanse of nature has affected countless human lives in Eripuram and the villages around the rock for countless generations. To this day, I have not had the experience of seeing the majestic presence of Ezhimala and the thrill of indescribable joy and excitement that can be compared to walking through Madayipara in the evening
FAIRIES AND WITCHES
Madayipara is a public place where all the people of the area have enjoyed a sense of complete freedom. No matter how much emphasis is placed on the importance of preserving the remaining rock, it will not be too much.
The Vannan prison on the north slope of the rock and the coolie beyond are places we spent all summer celebrating during our school days. The brotherhood felt for the various birds of the Vannan Basin and the small creatures from the Annan Basin was immense. It is a meaningful creative activity for me to reminisce about the joy of eating the mangoes, the gooseberries, the green water and lying in the shade of the trees, which gave me all kinds of flour in that basin that lay like no one else.
In the stories I heard as a child about Madayipara, there were fairies and ghosts circling the passers-by. It is quite natural to imagine fairies and witches misleading people in such vast desolation in the old days when people were less likely to behave. I remember when I was studying at nine or ten, a poor man who was measuring rice at the ration stall in Eripuram was misled by the Yakshi on his way from Pazhayangadi to the ration stall at noon and brought to the Jewish pool. Many people in Eripuram described the incident as if they were eyewitnesses.
The scout, who had not reached the ration hall after five o'clock, was found in a state of panic, as if the people who had finally climbed the cliff had been exposed on the shores of the synagogue.
I used to hear a lot of stories like this from time to time; ghosts with toes on front and back of foot and no pupil in eye.
There is no front yard and there is no blackness in the eyes.
When I was three or four, a friend of mine told me that he saw his uncle dancing on a rock. Even now I am shocked when I imagine those ghostly legs with twenty toes.
MY ROCK
When I was studying at Madayi High School, Mash, who taught Arabic there, used to say to those who looked at the answer sheet of the person sitting in the back bench, "Don't look back, don't look back, after the age of sixty." Now, approaching sixty, it seems to me that the most eventful and experiential stage in life begins between the ages of sixteen and seventeen. The area where I had daily contact throughout this period was Madayipara and its surroundings. As time goes by, I can remember with more emotion what kind of emotion I was walking in every nook and corner of this place.
KP Gopalan, Rajanmash, Ramachandran Mash, Sukumaran, AV Pavithran and Damodaran Kulappuram were my companions for my walks on the rock from time to time. Before them was Krishnan, a classmate at school and a co-host of the Vengara Kasturba Memorial Library. Before Kerala started hearing about women's emancipation, there was another Bharathi Devi who bravely walked alone through Madayipara anytime. Bharathi Devi, who worked for Oman Radio, had long written short stories for Deshabhimani Weekly and others. Madayipara also plays an important role in many of the stories of Bharathi Devi
Ittipull is one of the most attractive bird habitats in Madayipara. This is a bird that I have been attached to since childhood. Ittiti, ittiti is a bird that cries out and flies only a short distance. During the rainy season, when the sky is overcast, my heart burns when I hear the cry of this bird while walking alone on the rock. When I wanted to start a blog two years ago, I didn't have to think twice about what to name it. The only name that came to mind was Ittipull.
ITTIPULLU
It is a completely erroneous notion that knowledge is the antithesis of pleasure. Like everyone else in the area, I loved Madayi rock at a time when there were not even heard of more than 300 different species of plants, thirty species of grass, one hundred and seventeen species of butterflies and hundreds of species of birds. The information provided by later scientists, researchers and environmentalists about the rock only deepened and deepened our love for each other. It is a common feeling among the locals that this rock, which is of great ecological importance, has not been damaged even in the name of development, tourism or anything else.
The number of my trips to Eripuram has dropped dramatically over the past few years. It was then that Rajesh from Ramapuram, who met me as a reader a few months ago and soon became a close friend, took me on his bike all the way back. Every moment of those bike rides I was in the backseat, traveling four or five decades back. During that long journey through the path of memory, I came face to face with my personal experiences as well as many facts related to the history and culture of this region.
ERIPURAM TB
The Travelers' Bungalow is a popular destination for writers and travelers alike as you climb up the road from Eripuram to Vengara-Muttam to Madayipara. Gundert is said to have lived and worked here during the construction of his dictionary in a travelogue on the Iowa Internet. The traveler's bungalow has survived a long time and has undergone a lot of repairs. This building is, for me, an old place of memories associated with drama. It was here that Ibrahim Vengara directed and rehearsed the 1971 play My Camp. KP Gopalan, CV Kunhiraman Mash and M Damodaran acted in it. BP Keshavan Masha was the make-up man. 
Later, some of Ibrahim's plays were prepared here. The first time I went to TB was not for a drama rehearsal. I came here one morning to speak at the annual meeting of the Eripuram Public Library during 1970-71 and rested here. That day KP Gopalan and I went to see him and talked for a long time. I was with Punathil Kunjabdullah a few years ago when he came to TB with Taha Madayi for just a taste without any special event. I was reminded at the time that my visit to the old Musawari bungalow in Iowa was always associated with art and literature. But I do not know why my closeness with TB has not yet come to the nature of a great emotional connection
A BOOK THEFT AND INVESTIGATION
I am the number one member of the Eripuram Public Library. During 1966-67, books for the library were collected by Marxists and Congressmen. It was led by KV Balanmash. V.N. In the first annual meeting of the library, an unexpected election to the working committee was held, but all the Congressmen, including VN Eripuram, turned it down. The meeting ended with a loud bang. Then, a few days later, almost all of the twelve hundred books in the library disappeared. It was rumored that the stolen books were taken to Madayi rock and burnt and tied in sacks and taken to Vadukundapuzha and thrown away. There was a lot of speculation about who the thieves were. Anyway, there was a five-member committee to investigate the book theft. I still do not know under which department. We also submitted a separate investigation report to the Working Committee. Moithu and I spent many hours brainstorming on how to make the report great. The first words of the report, which had been cut and edited in Moidu's shoes for many days, were almost like this: "Midnight. It was pitch dark. Terrible silence.”
DESAMITRAM SAHITYA VEDI
Before the establishment of the Eripuram Public Library, Desamitram Sahitya Vedi was the center of cultural activities in the Iowa region. Although Desamitram Weekly and Sudarshanam were owned by the Congress, Sahitya Vedi was apparently not political. Fifty people who really cared about literature organized all the events of the committee. EPR Veshala, MP Raghavan Muttannoor, PA Sankaranarayanan and many other young poets who were well known among the young literary critics of Kannur and Kasaragod at that time came to Eripuram to participate in the Poetry Conference which was held every five months. Desamitram writers had meticulous poetry readings and discussions at Govindan Mash's Hindi school, where he had prepared his children for the examinations of the Dakshinbharat Hindi Prachar Sabha, who had come to Eripuram from Pariyaram. Sometimes it also took on the character of a high-quality poetry class. I still remember NVP Unithiri talking about Vayalar's poem Ravanaputri in such a poetry class.
The last discussion organized by Desamitram Sahitya Vedi at Eripuram was when G. Sankara Kurappin got the Jnanpith. Pootherath Raman Menon, who was the president of the Sahitya Akademi at that time, said that there were no writers in Malayalam who could qualify for the Jnanpith and that all the people here were just Mukkananchi writers. Most of the people who took part in the discussion that day were very angry and emotional and spoke out against the pooja.
There were five eager readers of literature in Eripuram at that time. It is impossible to say how excited they all were to visit the Kasturba Memorial Library in Vengara every day. The best reader in the country at that time was Kunjikannan, who was unemployed after TTC. Kunjikannan was also a good painter. The line and manuscript of the manuscript magazine published by Desamitram Sahitya Vedi belonged to him. Kunjikannan's sensibility was different and higher than all the others in the country. That friend left home when he was barely nineteen. And to this day there is no information.
Eripuram is now a special high school for boys and girls and has grown into a higher secondary school. Many of them used to walk eight to ten kilometers to reach the school. EV Ramakrishnan, now a famous commentator and poet in Indian English literature and Malayalam, was one of those who came to eat like that.
When I was in the fifth class at Madayi High School, Kadannapally Ramachandran was the school leader. At that time, the school youth festival and anniversary were celebrated with various art activities. I still remember some scenes from the dance and musical drama starring Parvati as a very beautiful music teacher and Shiva as a healthy teacher, and in Edassery's co-cultivation drama, which was performed by the students and enthusiastically discussed for weeks by the locals.
MADAYIPALLY AND PAZHAYANGADI
Madaipally is a church in Malanad, signed by the Makkam Church. My father used to sell clothes in a small stall just a hundred meters away from the Iowa Church. The Madaikunnu, also known as the Kottakunnu, is often returned to. It is believed to have been erected in the church. The expression 'Ente Madayi Nagare' in the words of Theyyam is a testament to the prominent position of the Pazhayangadi Muslims in the life of North Kerala since ancient times.
Before the bridge over the Pazhayangadi river, the pass in the market was always crowded. Large watercraft, known as snowmobiles, cargoes, bananas, and so on. All in all, the debt and the surroundings will be very active from morning till night.
Some of my closest friends at Madayi High School were old-fashioned.
WITHOUT COMPLETION
No matter how much this article about Eripuram is written, I am not satisfied. The reason is that I write with my own country attached to my childhood. Even the most trivial things that remain in my memory in relation to this area are absolutely important to me and extremely beautiful. It seems good that so many of these things are not in writing, at least for the time being. I now feel as insecure as the old-fashioned farmers who sowed and plowed when the famine intensified.
I have written a very short note in the memoir released when Madayi LP School celebrated its 61st anniversary (2010-11). It started with the idea of writing a great essay, but for some reason, no matter how well prepared, the writing did not go beyond a few sentences.
I have written a very short note in the memoir released when Madayi LP School celebrated its 61st anniversary (2010-11). It started with the idea of writing a great essay, but for some reason, no matter how well prepared, the writing did not go beyond a few sentences.
My early days at Madayi LP School are over half a century old. That chronology does not apply to classrooms and school environments where the mind frequently enters. Occasionally there is a rash on the water in front of the school for months. The rabbits that run away when we wonder, the urinals that every boy pierces with his own stones on the rocks of Madayi, the thorns that fly to the rock, the rock, the pool, the itty, the itty!
WATERING OF FOLK REMEDIES
My childhood was supported by two kavus. Before he was five years old, his eternal association with the tent and its surroundings came to an end. Then we reached near Madayikka. Madayikavu is one of the most famous temples in North Kerala. Fish, alcohol and meat are not forbidden to the Brahmins known as Pitarans, the priests of Kaval. Our house was at the beginning of the main road to Thiruvarkadu Bhagwati. Kavil, where devotees pray that Madaikkavilachchi is the family deity of the Kolathiri people who once ruled Kolathunadu. My sister Prakashini and her husband live in the newly demolished house. The old surname Prabhalayam still retains its name. I do not know why my parents wanted all their children's names to start with the letter PR. My sisters' names are Prakashini, Prasanna and Prasuna. His brother, who died eighteen years ago, was named Pradeepan.
I'll be back to Madayika. Apart from the famous Madayika, there is another Kavu in front of the house. Chalikkavu In the past, there was a fairly large forest behind and on the sides of Iowa. Now the forest has shrunk to the point where it can hardly be described as a forest.
There is no fixed date for the festival in Chalikavu. The festival usually ends before the middle of May. Chalil Bhagwati is one of the important temples built by the Pitarans, the priests of Madayikavu. Generally no one else can see the theyyam here as it is like the private kavu of the Pitarans. However, as a child, I was very excited to hear the sound of the festival in Chalikavu.
The forest adjacent to Chalikavu was known as Chalikad. Three-quarters of all other trees and shrubs have been destroyed.
Although Chalikad has become nominal, there is still a small forest adjacent to Madayikavu. I am pleased it was written, 'uttarakeralattile visud'dhavanannali'l i.unnikrsnan about the jungle in this way:
"Today, almost a thousand years ago ksayiccillatayittutanniyirikkunna am Kavu matayipparayil nilaninnirunnuvatre. Punyava and Maroti are the main trees in Kaval at present. Huge grasshoppers are a specialty of Iowa Cav. In the olden days, when hunters could not find water in the forest, they would dig a hole in the grass and drink the water.”
Until the tenth grade, I spent most of my free time in the woods near Madayikavu and much more in Chalikadu.
There are many customs, beliefs and rituals associated with Madayika. As a child I never thought these would fall within the scope of any subject of study. Later I read some books by CMS Chandera and one day in 1975 I visited Chirayakkal T. Balakrishnan Nair at his house and talked to him for a long time. Now the government itself is starting a temple art academy in Madayikavu. Chandera and Chiraykal T, who made invaluable contributions to the Iowa region before folklore became a subject of study, did not receive the recognition they deserved for a number of reasons.
AGAINST THE CHICKEN COOP
Kalathilari, Pooram and Kalasam are some of the important festivals of Madayikavu and Nira, Puthari and Vishu are also associated with Kavu. Although I later learned that singing and dancing took place three times a year in Madayikavu (Madayikavu A Study-MS Nair), I can only remember the Kalathilari taking place for thirty days in November-December. During this time, every evening, our children would go to the temple wearing only red silk scarves and knee - length tortoiseshells.
After more than a kilometer on the road from Pazhayangadi to Payyanur, you will reach Eripuram. The main entrance to Madayikawa is on the descent after this. In place of the present tarred road to Kaval, there was a small road leading to Chalikad. It must have been by the time I was four or five that five or six consecutive days in the summer a middle-aged man in clean clothes appeared at noon in the shade of a forest tree along the way. He was of good stature and height. He also told us to let him know if we saw anyone going to the cave with the chicken. We were really taken aback when he reiterated that chicken pox is illegal and that it is our duty to prevent it. At that time, many devotees used to come to Kaval with their chickens hanging in front of everyone. We were very excited to see some of them sent back with advice and threats.
In those days, most people ate chicken for two or three days in Kollam. Chickens were raised in many homes, but no one thought they could kill any of them whenever they felt like it. At present, in most countries, there are two or three hens within a kilometer. I also go to Kollam many times to buy chicken. In the meanwhile, I occasionally remember that pesticide. If the time comes when human beings have the same rights as sheep, chickens and oxen and everyone agrees, will not the vast majority of us be among the murderers?
There was a chicken shop in my country called 'Kukkudalayam'. It does not seem that anyone else has given such a name to a shop selling broilers anywhere else in Kerala.
That is the virtue of my countrymen. "There is no other place in Kerala with such a weird imagination and creativity as our Madayi region," Thaha Madayi had told me with great joy a few days ago. Taha's remarks came at a time when the inauguration of the bridge over the Sultan Thodenna Canal, three kilometers from Eripuram, had been delayed for a long time, with locals bringing in two buffaloes accompanied by bands and imagining one of them as the president, cutting the ribbon with the other
DUNG DREDGING
The act of ‘dung warel’ has a special place in my childhood memories. At that time, many cows roamed the countryside all night on the rocks, roads and alleys. It was customary to leave all but the milking ones to wander like that. Before dawn, at least ten children will run on the road from Eripuram to Pazhayangadi and on the Madayi rock to collect the dung of these cows. Not only boys but also teenage girls are included in this group. It takes about half an hour and a half to walk through the small baskets. By then, everyone's basket will be full of dung. When you return home, you take the whole dung one by one and spread it on the rocks by hand. When dry, it burns well. Half a century ago I ran to get the dung. However, in the dim light before the white rips on the east side of the road from Eripuram and Madayipara, I can still vividly remember the joy I felt when I slowly spread my dung with my friends on the small rocks in the backyard with unspeakable excitement. The joy of new knowledge and worldview that can be obtained instead can never be compared to it. What in the world can replace innocence? This dish, called varadi, was the main fuel for cooking at that time. As the body and mind grow, we lose the ability to possess such simple pleasures.