The Old Monk with twenty-five children won the Royal Award

I could not but marvel when I first heard about one of my remote ancestors who was ‘blessed’ with as many as 25 children, all from the same wife, and all living at the same time. And my curiosity got the better of my disbelief when the narrator added that the tale of this rare feat reached the ears of the then Raja of Cochin, who promptly awarded him a gold medal!

The first whiff of the legend

I was young when I heard this, and those were the nascent days of Indian democracy. The nation was busy debating over such exotic ideas as socialist pattern of development, centralised planning, commanding heights of public sector in the national economy, restriction of the family size through planned birth, and so on. Of these, family planning captured the immediate attention and imagination of the common man. For better or worse it could bring an irrevocable change in the family life and culture of the nation.

 “What kind of benefits could this so-called family-planning movement bring to the people?” wondered my grandmother’s kinsman Pappu Master, a bachelor of seventy then. “Don’t you sense some kind of evil in that? It certainly runs counter to nature. All these years we have held the large family as the ideal - larger the family, greater the social prestige and economic security for the family.”

He added as if to make it easier for me to appreciate the point, “And you must be familiar with the legend in your own grandmother’s family about a heroic ancestor who had won royal favours for begetting as many as twenty-five children!”

My immediate response was rather cynical. “He must have had more than one wife!”

Uncle Pappu said he thought so too. “But, to sire so many children from more than one wife would not have merited royal attention.”

He could not throw any more light on the story, and the conversation ended there. But the legend of the man with twenty-five children winning the royal award excited my curiosity. And I turned to granduncle Mathootty for his ‘professional’ help.

The legend being explored

Granduncle Mathootty was an unconventional character. The third amongst his five brothers, he was given to idle preoccupations such as amateur philosophy, speculative history, folk culture, research into family genealogies, and the like. While his industrious brothers made money through agriculture and trade, he lived off his heirloom.

The man was undoubtedly a genius of sorts, a charismatic figure. His philosophical discourses attracted to him many a teenager in the village. His booming voice had an affectionate timbre, and those who listened to him were dazzled by his vision and outlook. His narration had a certain dignity, and his poetry was heart-warming. Youngsters would spend hours in his company. Busier people would briefly listen and pass on with a knowing grin.

It was this old man who painstakingly went into the genealogy of his family and reputedly identified his ancestors twenty-one generations upstream! This epic journey into the past had taken him through many years of diligent research on an ongoing basis including examination of ancient palm leaf records and good many visits to distant families some of whom were not exactly friendly.

So, I had approached the right man with my new puzzle. He said he too had heard about the legend of a native of Mattancherry who had won the Veer Shrinkhala (meaning: Hero’s Necklace) from the Raja of Cochin towards the end of the Dutch Period in India. But he was not sure if my grandmother had any connection with his line. Uncle Mathootty promised he would investigate.

The legend unfolds

Meanwhile, I thought I should consult my mother. If grandmother was born in the line of the hero who won the award for begetting twenty-five children, my mother too might have had some tidings about it. But she gave me a huge snub – as if I were uttering blasphemy against an ancestor! I turned to my grandmother. Her response was an understanding smile. So, grandmother had heard about it after all!

Uncle Mathootty reappeared not long after that. Yes; what Pappu Master had suspected was still a familiar story among the older generation in Mattancherry. Sometime during the third quarter of the eighteenth century, there was a rich and powerful family there. One of its members had attained the celebrity status by winning an award from the then Raja of Cochin for his patriotism and loyalty to the crown. What pleased His Majesty was his prolific contribution of as many as twenty-five healthy progeny to his royal domain. Of those whom Mathootty came in touch with in the course of his investigation, including the hero’s direct descendants, good many had affirmed having heard the story. And their narrations broadly agreed on vital details.

“But, as a student of history, I would have had greater satisfaction if only I could trace the Necklace presented by the Raja and read the inscriptions thereon. None of those whom I had contacted could give any kind of clue to it. And one more source remains yet to be explored. And that is the Royal Archives at Ernakulam. But it is not easy to get access to it; and to search for any documentary evidence would be, as the saying goes, like searching for a pin in a haystack.”

As for my grandmother, Mathootty was happy to announce his discovery that she descended from the hero in the male line for four generations, followed by two generations in the female line.

Gossips chase celebrities

Gossips have relentlessly chased celebrities everywhere in every age. And our old man too was not immune to them. Come to think of it, a man who had the fecundity to annually sire children from the same woman during the entire span of her reproductive life and recently honoured by the Raja with a Hero’s Necklace was a most natural prey for such gossips. For, his accomplishments and the royal attention he received must have kindled both jealousy and amusement among friends and foes alike. And it must have ignited curiosity, and even longing, among women in his known circles.

Uncle Mathootty had heard several juicy stories about the man during his investigative tour. And he observed that the root of all gossips went into his instant fertility. Word spread in no time that a single look from him could ‘endanger’ a woman. So women, beware - especially the maidens! At first people took this as an innocent joke. But when a girl in the neighbourhood became pregnant and she swore that she had had no male contact, someone murmured his suspicion.

Our hero was regular in his evening walk for years, his beat taking him through the main thoroughfare in the elite residential area in town. Being a familiar figure in the neighbourhood and a socially amiable and handsome person, women in the area would often stop him on the way and engage him in small talk. And on attaining celebrity status, his daily rounds were attracting increasingly more of the female folk living along the street to hobnob with him. Good many of them would reverentially gaze at him while some crazy ones would even ogle at him.

Then he noticed the female folk disappearing from the street all of a sudden. It was then that he came to hear about the canards growing behind his back and of the ‘virgin birth’ in the neighbourhood. At first he had a hearty laugh at what he thought was a practical joke. His close friends too laughed with him.

But the ‘fun’ prolonged and it turned serious. He even fancied that the doors and windows of the houses along the street were shut as he passed. He also noticed that the female crowd regularly seen at the Church services that he attended was progressively thinning. When his friends confirmed his suspicion, it told upon his composure. And the last thing he would ever give up was the spiritual satisfaction from attending Church services. So he sought the intervention of the Parish Priest.

Uncle Mathootty added, “According to what I heard, the priestly intervention had its effect, and gradually the gossips lost their sting. He continued his evening walk, and noticed the doors and windows open as before. The female attendance at the Church services too was restored. But the man previously known for his sanguine disposition had now become rather withdrawn. And he preferred to be discreet with his former admirers. Thus he earned the nickname ‘The Old Monk’.”

Uncle Mathootty said he had enquired about his wife. No one knew. Sad the self-effacing mother sank into oblivion. “It was a patriarchal world. The dear delightful lady had to content herself with the thought that the award was meant for her too.”

K X M John

18/04/2010