Karkitakam - Rains, Ramayanam and Mulakooshyam

The pitter-patter of the raindrops on the tiled roof goes on and on, night and day.  The eerie hiss and howl of the gale force winds on the trees in the yard invokes an unsettling feeling in spite of being used to it.  The occasional clap of thunder preceded with the seen and unseen lightning adds to the drama. Trees or branches break and fall on power lines causing long unscheduled power outages.  The ranthals (storm lanterns) filled with kerosene oil are kept in the ready for the contingency.

Rivers and streams overflow with muddy brown water flowing torrentially.  Ponds and fields are filled up or overflowing.  Even the well at home gets so full that you could take water by just bending over the sidewalls.  The drain channels around the house and on the side of the mud roads have a continuous flow of water, with little fish playing around.  The compound surrounding the house is like a swamp with water flowing out from innumerable little springs (uravu).  The sky is ominously dark with heavily laden clouds.  Bare-footed villagers walking in the rain holding on to their umbrellas fighting the crazy wind.  The muddy roads are studded with stepping stones to escape sinking in if one steps on the soaked loose mud.  A few workers toiling in the overflowing fields, re-routing the water to save the paddy crop, wearing huge 'Olakkuda' or 'Pattakkuda' (umbrella made of dried arecanut palm leaves that could not be folded).  School children, books protected by a plastic bag and half or fully drenched and muddy, splash and play in the pools of muddy water on the roads.   We kids had a great time, playing in the water with paper boats, building mud dams in the ditches, catching little fish and swimming in the full ponds and streams (rivers were out of limits), with the rain drops hitting us.  It was unbridled ecstasy. 

Worker in paddy field wearing Olakkuda

Kids playing in monsoon waters

Olakkuda

Water well

For those unfortunates living in houses with mud walls and woven palm leaves (with a layer of paddy straw on top), each night is spent with palpable anxiety since the wet and water laden palm leaf roof could cave in or the gale force winds could rip them away.  With little to protect them from the fury of nature, they would huddle around together saying a prayer to their own Gods, hoping the night will finally end and the dawn would bring a bright and dry day.    The daily wage earners are forced to sit at home since no work can be done when the monsoons unleash on God's own country.  The kitchen gardens are mostly bare since no vegetables can grow.   It used to be a month of scarcity - scarcity of work, earnings, vegetables, grains and food in general.  Clothes would take forever to dry on the cloth lines inside the house, the dampness causing mildew to develop on them almost always. 

Palm Leaf huts

This was our experience of the month of Karkitakam (the Malayalam month starting around July 16th or so) in the old days.  There was no match for the torrential rains that came down during that month.  Many would not have money to even buy essentials.  (Interestingly, colleges did not collect fees for this month in sympathy to the difficulty faced by parents.  However, some of the students would not tell the poor parents about this and pocket the fees to spend on movies and restaurants with friends!) 

Paddy Straw - Vaikkol

That said, our families used to prepare for 'Panja (scarcity) Karkitakam'.  Dry paddy straw bundles for the cows were stocked up in the barn next to the cow pen.   Certain ripe vegetables that would store well like gourds ('Matthan' - pumpkin, 'Kumbalanga' - winter melon, 'Vellarikka' - yellow cucumber, etc.), either picked from one's garden or bought, were hung in the pantry or kitchen.  Essential grains and pulses were stocked up, depending on one's capability.  Umbrellas were repaired and kept ready for the rains.  Girls wore 'Mylanchi' (henna) on their feet to ward off foot and toe infections (Chettu-punnu) from walking barefoot in the muddy rainwater.

Reading Ramayanam

With all the suffering that the fiery monsoon spewed, Karkitakam was also a holy month for the Hindus.  Elders would read the epic story of Ramayanam praying to Lord Rama to alleviate the miseries that one has to face during the month.  Hence this month is also known as Ramayana Maasam.  With the incessant rains, there was nothing else to do either and reading Ramayana (specifically Sundarakandam) probably helped elevate everyone spiritually.  I still remember father doing Ramayana Paarayanam (reading/discourse) for over an hour each day and the rest of the family had to sit and listen to him reading in Sanskrit and translating it to Tamil for our benefit.  It was the same story every year, but there was a novelty to it each time you heard it again.  I distinctly remember a gold colored mutt who managed to get himself endeared to father (who did not like dogs) by plopping himself in front of him when he was reading Ramayana.  (Father felt the critter was blessed and was a noble soul in its earlier birth.)  I could go on and on about the amazing monsoons in Kerala, but there are already many enjoyable narratives of this phenomenon available on the Internet.  And, to be fair, Karkitakam of today is no more what it was in my younger days, thanks to global warming, if I may. 

The days were wet and the nights were dark, dreary and cold.  It was very easy to get sick and we only used boiled water during the rainy season, especially when the well was full with water flowing in from all sides.  It was also a month of extreme simplicity.  Karkitaka Kanji is very famous, but I have no experience of the same.  Mother used to make Mulakooshyam (Milakuchooshyam is the right word - means black pepper soup) and we used to have it steaming hot with rice and fire roasted pappadams.  The simple steaming hot vegetable dish cooked with black pepper powder warmed our bodies in the cold nights of Karkitakam.  It also kept infections and illness at bay.  We still prepare Mulakooshyam on some cold nights and have it with rice for dinner.  We never tire of it and it is like an elixir to taste and is awesome when you are fighting a cold.

There are multiple recipes of Mulakooshyam floating around in the Internet.  However, the one that I am sharing with you below is that of authentic traditional one that my mother used to make, the simplest version there is. 

Mulakooshyam:

Mulakooshyam

 Process:  Cut vegetables (cube) - take your pick - Winter Melon and Yam (Chena) or Bottle Gourd or Yam and Raw Banana or Taro Stem (Chembu Thandu) or Drumsticks (Muringa) etc.  Cook in water with a large spoon of fresh ground black pepper powder and salt.  You can add half a tablespoon of turmeric, if you prefer.  Once the vegetables are cooked (you would be able to feel the overpowering flavor of pepper), remove it from heat and add some coconut oil and a couple of sprigs of curry leaves.  (If you can stand the heat, add a few slit green chillies too.)  This is a watery dish.  Have it hot with well-cooked rice and chutta pappadam (fire roasted pappadam).   The aftertaste of pepper gets accented when you consume the dish piping hot.  Enjoy another simple traditional Kerala dish!