Chapter 11: Cinema Pera.
When Ava was small, she would walk with her cousins down the lane lined with moss-covered walls, towards the main road. If they looked back as they went, they would see the brown gate of Treselda Cottage get smaller as it receeded, and then as they reached the bend, it would be swallowed up by the leaves of the Jambakka tree and gradually dissappear from view. The long trek along the main road would take them past "Moonumukku", the junction of three roads, to reach "Naalumukku", the junction of four. The roads would be dotted with people, mostly dressed in white cotton dhothis and light shirts or saris. During the rains, everyone would duck into bus stands or sheltered spots at the sudden, sharp outbursts of showers, and continue on, umbrellas unfurled when the showers abated into drizzles. The umbrellas would be smartly lowered to their sides as required, serving the dual purpose of sheltering their heads from the drizzle and their white clothing from being splattered as the odd motorist passed by, dipping in and out of puddles, sending trajectiles of muddy water their way. Cyclists were the most agile, negotiating the puddles while holding up umbrellas in one hand, while keeping their cycles on track and dhothis bunched up away from the splattering wheels with the other. Sometimes the umbrella handle would be winched between shoulder and tilted head as complex negotiations got underway. Things got more complicated when intermittent drags on Beedis were added to the mix.
The children would reach "Pallimukku" in due course, the junction where the church was. They would pass the small turnstile which let people slip into the church compound one by one to access St. Antony's shrine. Then they'd cross the main gate of the church, peering in on the lookout for familiar faces. Ava would turn to look at Saint Antony in the eye, in silent acknowledgment, in case he felt bad that they were ignoring him as they hurried by. They would then arrive at the next junction, marked by a banyan tree. The road to the left led to the railway station. The familar sound of trains pulling in and out of the station would greet them long before they neared, the chug-chug of wheels on rails and the long whine of the horn.
They would at this point stop to buy Naranga Muttai from the Murrukkan Kada, hard boiled sweets shaped like lemon segments, coloured bright yellow and orange. Murrukkan (Paan) was made by wrapping betel nuts and sometimes, chewing tobacco, in Vettilla (betel leaves) pasted with Chunambu (slaked lime). It would be chewed for the heady hit, and spat out, ubiquitously marking the base of every roadside wall in the city with betel-red stains. Besides Murrukkan and an assortment of sweets in glass jars, the Kadas (shops) also sold lime juice, beedis, small, yellow bananas (the slimy, sweet Palayankodan and the firm, sweet Rasakathali) and an odd assortment of bits and pieces that could interest passers-by of all propensities and ages. The bananas had their respective firm and loyal fan following among the people. You were either a Palayankodan fan or a Rasakathali one, and never both. Ava watched the banana buyers with interest. The regulars would help themselves from the hanging bunches, the P's doing the peel, gobble, swallow act in one fell swoop and the R's taking bites and munching thoughtfully. Mama's Puttu mix with P and sugar was Ava's breakfast favourite, but if was just bananas off the bunch, she was most certainly an R.
The happy taste of Naranga Muttai adding pep to their steps, the children would then cross the bridge, over the old Vallakadavu or pier, to reach the next junction. Just across the road, at one of the corners, stood Karthika Theatre, the Cinema Pera. Mama would have given them a few Chakrams each, with which to buy movie tickets and treats. The Pera was a hall with a tatched roof. There were straw mats on the floor towards the front, and a few folding metal chairs in rows at the back. Ava had only faint memories of the flickering black and white images she saw on the screen.
When Uncle Eric, Mama's youngest brother returned from Africa, he decided to open up a movie hall in Anjengo, on the same lines as Karthika Theatre. He was an avid photographer, owning the lastest box camera of the time and diligently photographing events and places. Mama had a whole album of his photographs, and Ava had seen books on photography from his collection in Treselda Cottage. She had pored over them, finding the stark images of strange people and places fascinating. Uncle Eric's pictures had the same sense about them as those in the books. They were carefully composed and caused her to pause and stare.
Taking off on his knowledge of photographic equipment, Eric had gone on to procure a high quality projector at the best possible price and had set about putting up a Cinema Pera at the edge of the family property in Anjengo, sinking most of his hard-earned savings into the venture. Ava remembered the fanfare and build up to the first trial runs at "The Anjengo Movie Hall". Free screenings of the latest movies were held to get the crowds through the doors. The childen would gather in the space behind the screen and watch movies play out mirrored. They found this infinitely more entertaining as they could whisper and have their own games in their private space "back-screen", with flipped movie characters looming large above them. Sometimes they would fall asleep in exhaustion, under the shadows of the actors and actresses, to be woken up much later and put to bed in the house. Happenings after those initial days were vague in Ava's memory, but were an indelible part of family stories. The thatch of the Cinema Pera had caught fire one night, when everyone was deep in sleep in the house. In a matter of minutes, the Pera and its equipment was up in flames, and with it, Uncle Eric's dream to run "The Anjengo Movie Hall". Local rumour had it that the owners of the sole rival Cinema Pera were behind the fire, but Eric refused to entertain any of it. He would go on to try his hand at several other ventures after that, but never went back to film or photography, giving away his cameras to his nephews and leaving behind the couple of books and the album of photographs in Treselda Cottage as memory of a time when cinema had captured his imagination.
The children would reach "Pallimukku" in due course, the junction where the church was. They would pass the small turnstile which let people slip into the church compound one by one to access St. Antony's shrine. Then they'd cross the main gate of the church, peering in on the lookout for familiar faces. Ava would turn to look at Saint Antony in the eye, in silent acknowledgment, in case he felt bad that they were ignoring him as they hurried by. They would then arrive at the next junction, marked by a banyan tree. The road to the left led to the railway station. The familar sound of trains pulling in and out of the station would greet them long before they neared, the chug-chug of wheels on rails and the long whine of the horn.
They would at this point stop to buy Naranga Muttai from the Murrukkan Kada, hard boiled sweets shaped like lemon segments, coloured bright yellow and orange. Murrukkan (Paan) was made by wrapping betel nuts and sometimes, chewing tobacco, in Vettilla (betel leaves) pasted with Chunambu (slaked lime). It would be chewed for the heady hit, and spat out, ubiquitously marking the base of every roadside wall in the city with betel-red stains. Besides Murrukkan and an assortment of sweets in glass jars, the Kadas (shops) also sold lime juice, beedis, small, yellow bananas (the slimy, sweet Palayankodan and the firm, sweet Rasakathali) and an odd assortment of bits and pieces that could interest passers-by of all propensities and ages. The bananas had their respective firm and loyal fan following among the people. You were either a Palayankodan fan or a Rasakathali one, and never both. Ava watched the banana buyers with interest. The regulars would help themselves from the hanging bunches, the P's doing the peel, gobble, swallow act in one fell swoop and the R's taking bites and munching thoughtfully. Mama's Puttu mix with P and sugar was Ava's breakfast favourite, but if was just bananas off the bunch, she was most certainly an R.
The happy taste of Naranga Muttai adding pep to their steps, the children would then cross the bridge, over the old Vallakadavu or pier, to reach the next junction. Just across the road, at one of the corners, stood Karthika Theatre, the Cinema Pera. Mama would have given them a few Chakrams each, with which to buy movie tickets and treats. The Pera was a hall with a tatched roof. There were straw mats on the floor towards the front, and a few folding metal chairs in rows at the back. Ava had only faint memories of the flickering black and white images she saw on the screen.
When Uncle Eric, Mama's youngest brother returned from Africa, he decided to open up a movie hall in Anjengo, on the same lines as Karthika Theatre. He was an avid photographer, owning the lastest box camera of the time and diligently photographing events and places. Mama had a whole album of his photographs, and Ava had seen books on photography from his collection in Treselda Cottage. She had pored over them, finding the stark images of strange people and places fascinating. Uncle Eric's pictures had the same sense about them as those in the books. They were carefully composed and caused her to pause and stare.
Taking off on his knowledge of photographic equipment, Eric had gone on to procure a high quality projector at the best possible price and had set about putting up a Cinema Pera at the edge of the family property in Anjengo, sinking most of his hard-earned savings into the venture. Ava remembered the fanfare and build up to the first trial runs at "The Anjengo Movie Hall". Free screenings of the latest movies were held to get the crowds through the doors. The childen would gather in the space behind the screen and watch movies play out mirrored. They found this infinitely more entertaining as they could whisper and have their own games in their private space "back-screen", with flipped movie characters looming large above them. Sometimes they would fall asleep in exhaustion, under the shadows of the actors and actresses, to be woken up much later and put to bed in the house. Happenings after those initial days were vague in Ava's memory, but were an indelible part of family stories. The thatch of the Cinema Pera had caught fire one night, when everyone was deep in sleep in the house. In a matter of minutes, the Pera and its equipment was up in flames, and with it, Uncle Eric's dream to run "The Anjengo Movie Hall". Local rumour had it that the owners of the sole rival Cinema Pera were behind the fire, but Eric refused to entertain any of it. He would go on to try his hand at several other ventures after that, but never went back to film or photography, giving away his cameras to his nephews and leaving behind the couple of books and the album of photographs in Treselda Cottage as memory of a time when cinema had captured his imagination.
Image source: Shutter Stock.
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