A Continuing Farce

When my schooling started in 1953,we used to celebrate Vana Mahotsav for a whole week. It was started by Sri. K.M.Munshi in 1950. The Netas and all and sundry were then lamenting about the vanishing forests and how it is going to affect rainfall. Global warming, ozone layer, melting ice caps etc had not yet become cult phrases. The monsoon decided the agricultural production as it still does but in those days agriculture accounted for over 70% of the GDP.

So we planted an exotic plant called gliricidia or'sheemakonna' for a whole week. It was known as 'sheemakkonna vaaram'.Besides, on roadsides pits were dug and various plants protected by bamboo meshes were planted with lot of fanfare. The bamboo meshes did not last more than a week before finding its way to someones kitchen as fuel. The roaming goats took care of the plants. Gliricidia which is an invasive shrub survived in some places, shunned even by the goats. The charade lasted a whole week and was repeated year after year. I do not think any substantial tree ever survived.The bamboo mesh in time gave place to wire meshes and even concrete meshes. The contractors prospered but not the plants and the forest cover continued to shrink.

While this was going on, the PWD was busy cutting down all the Mango trees lining the Ottapalam- Cheplaccherry road in front of the NSS High School. The trees were originally planted at the behest of Tipu Sultan. They used to give us children an abundant supply of raw mangoes and many a running battle with "Kurukkan" Bava who used to bid for the crop. We did the running and he the chasing and shouting. The big banyan tree in front of the hospital in which many a 'yakshi' resided in our imagination was also not spared and with it went a large part of our fantasies and dreams. A lesson on hypocrisy from Class I onwards.

Then came social forestry. In one of their innumerable foreign jaunts, some minister came across 'acacia'and decided that it is the ideal plant for greening the state. So 'acacia' was planted everywhere at state cost and the demon plant survived. It provided sticks for the flags and banners for innumerable rallys, marches and jathas of all parties and still survived. All the while it sucked precious ground water and thrived. Reports are coming in from Africa about vast tracts of land where all water sources have dried up because of planting of acacia. Unfortunately,the wood is not good enough to burn the minister who introduced it here or sturdy enough to hang him! It still survives, because it is useless.

After many Sugathakumariees and their "poetry on tap", now it is the turn of "AN UMBRELLA FOR EARTH". Or is it 'Haritha Keralam". If it is an umbrella, then I hope it will be something like the one "Ibrahim and Carrim Son's ltd, Calicut" used to manufacture and not the "poppy" variety. Those sturdy things, with the curved handle used to double as a walking stick and a stick to scare away the stray dogs. It had a brand name 611 or 613 or 501 or something like that. I do hope the trees now being planted are sturdy enough and have a longer life.

The day my mother was cremated at Ivor Madhom, over 150 other cremations took place. A small forest must have been burned on that day. This is happening all over the state, everyday. The Christians and the Muslims are going on scarring the face of Mother Earth and taking up space in prime areas. There should be better ways of getting rid of the rotting corpse which even your loving wife would fear to see.(Shankaracharya).Parsis had a better way,until the vultures started dropping pieces all over Mumbai. And then DDT killed off all of them. Can't we have a few crematoriums?

Meanwhile the farce will go on and on. Sugathakumariees will lament about the loss of the current generation and future generation. There will be panel discussions in TV and in Vanitha etc in which actors in their teens will reminisce about their childhood.Meanwhile, smart guys like Al Gore will become billionaires by narrating inconvenient truths.

When it becomes too inconvenient, Earth will heave a sigh, or shrug her shoulder and with it will disappear a whole vile race, much like the dinosaurs. Let the farce progress to the tragedy in the meantime.

Oh mi Gosh I am an Intellectual (OMG)

In 1967, I graduated from Government Victoria College.

As Field Marshal Manekshaw said , at that time too a queer was a person who read Tennyson, when all your roommates were out playing football or basketball or roaming outside..

I was a semi-queer in those days.

I played soccer football reasonably well and also read, not necessarily Tennyson.

That is why I was surprised by Professor M.K. Sanu's article on this week's Mathrubhumi on Albert Camus. OMG , is it possible that a renowned literary person is discovering (or rediscovering?) an author whom atleast a few of my generation was familiar with almost forty years ago? Is it possible that the pain of existence, the nostalgia, the eagerness to return back to the womb, that were the dominant themes of those days is coming back again? Is the succeeding (or preceding?) article on M.P.Narayana Pillai an omen ? Are we to be tried again in the the Court of George the VI ? Are we Ramus getting back to the Big world of Small men? Who will be the Guruji who will help us maintain our sanity?

I must have read La Stranger, La Chute, Rebel, The Plague, The Myth of Sisyphus and other Stories, etc by 1972-73 and liked them so much. And I do not know French. I do not know Mr.Sanu either, personaly. But I used to know the late Professor Guptan Nair who was in the Malayalam Faculty at Victoria. Years later, I read a comment by him on Arundhathi Roy's book 'God of Small Things" It was about a reference to EMS. It was crystal clear that he had not read the book when he made the comment. Gods do have feet of clay some of the times at least.

To keep yourselves in the 'intellectual forefront 'must be quite taxing.

And that brings me to the 'Response" of Ms.Geetha to Ms.Devika of Trivandrum in Mathrubhumi weekly. I am not joining issue as I have not read Ms. Devika's article. But Geetha writes Malayalam as it should be written. Like Churchill said: 'short words are best; short words when old are the best of all'. Most of our Malayalam literature critics thinks in English and translate into Malayalam and makes a mess of both languages.

My mother was expressing a desire to re- read Mrs.Henri Wood's "East Lynne" for over three, four decades. It was out of print. My father used to say that it is a third rate sentimental novel. Finally. I got her a copy a few years ago. She must have re-read it. She did not mention about the novel again till her death. I have the book with me now. I have not attempted to read it. Nor will I.

Some places or times are not worth revisiting. An apprehension about likely disappointment can be quite daunting.

Check and Mate

Four times the FIDE world champion. Undisputed Prince of rapid chess. Every inch a gentle man in word, deed conduct, you name it. But not fit enough to be considered a Bharath Ratna. Perish the thought! That is reserved for the highest service in artistic, literary and scientific activities as well as recognition of public service of the highest order.

Presumably that is why Gopinath Bordoloi (how many of you have heard of him and his public service of the highest order?) Gulzarilal Nanada (the service of keeping the Prime Minister's seat safe and warm a couple of times for the Nehru dynasty ) M.G.Ramachandran (Great!), V.V.Giri (must be for his services to the cause of population control!) Morarji Desai (for his scientific experiments in urine therapy) are all there among the 41 odd awarded. And of course Rajiv Gandhi, for all round service of the highest order. Look at the 'yojanas' 'programmes' 'airports' etc. etc.

Perhaps, Anand will be better off in some other Company. Most jewels have a sordid history behind them. Kohinoor for example. Or the Hope diamond. Or think about the blood spilled in the diamond mines in South Africa. If Anand suddenly finds himself in the company of all forty-one of them (fortunately only a few of them are around in flesh and blood) he may have to hone his Sicilian defence still further to defend his position. And existing literature on Chess theory may not be adequate. Most of them are Shatranj ke Killadis


Sachin Tendulkar may not have any such problems. He only has to tweet a few more times in Twitter and his followers will jump a few more lacs. That is enough for the Netas doing the highest public service in New Delhi to take notice. And if he tweets something in support of UPA or the Gandhis, before he can take off his pad or unlace his shoes, he will be a Bharat Ratna and an M.P to boot. And why not. He can tweet, better, play cricket better, is younger than Shashi Tharoor and a charmer too. And he is not a Madrassi brahmin. We have to watch out for the sentiments of DMK, you know.

We live not only our lives... but the life of our times

“pretayutham abhyangam sat”

“pretayutham jhihwa shodhanam sat”

“pretayutham danta shodhanam sat”

The word ‘sat’ is used in the sense of reality and goodness; and so also, Partha, the word ‘sat’ is used for praiseworthy (auspicious) action .Steadfastness in sacrifice, penance, gift is also called ‘sat’ and so also action for such purpose Gita XVII-26, 27.

Her soul brought back from the world of ‘manes’ by the combined entreaties of her children lay defenceless on the sparse bed of a few reeds of ‘khusa’ grass. After the ritual washing and cleaning, she is clothed symbolically in a garment and shawl made out of a couple of strands from the loin cloth worn by her children performing the ‘bali’

Thirunavaya has changed a lot On both the sides of the Gandhi statue, on the narrow road leading to the temple, concrete monstrosities have sprung up. Name boards with the token numbers of the ‘ilayaths’ who will assist you in transporting the soul of the dead from the ‘preta loka’ to the feet of Vishnu, line both sides of the path. Modern houses stand behind these boards in mute testimony that death too can be lucrative. C.P.Unnikrishnan Ilayath, Token no 8 is expected to guide us in our effort to transport the soul of amma’ to the feet of Vishnu.

“pretayutham thilodakm sat”

“pretayutham gandhodakam sat”

“pretayutham pushpam sat”

The Devaswom board has succeeded in defiling what Tippu and his hordes spared during their triumphant march through the length of Malabar. The ancient wall built of sun burnt laterite stones surrounding the temple has been pulled down and in its place stand a cement wall painted in garish colours. A gopuram built more in tamil architectural pattern hides from view the ‘sreekovil’. In front of the gopuram stands a shed constructed (in what the devasom guys think is the kerala temple architectural style) for women to change their wet clothes. The small cottage of the Raja from the Zamorin lineage, who was a class mate of father in Zamorins college, is still safe behind the fencing of bamboo thorns. His direct entrance to the temple has however been barred by the devaswom rulers. The last time I met him was in 89 when we came for the ‘bali’ of father. I think he was then third or fourth in line to become Samoothiri. I don’t think he quite made it before death caught up

“And with the utterance of the word ‘tat’ the acts of sacrifice and penance and various acts of giving are performed by the seekers of salvation, without aiming at the reward” Gita XVII-25

Remembering the ancestors on the father’s lineage to the preceding three generation, invoke them to be present to receive the bali tharpan. Invoke the ancestors on the mothers lineage to the third generation and seek their presence

Chettur Krishnan kutty, pet student of Boyd, Cherangottil Krishnan who read Law on a scholarship and an unknown Keshavan from Cherplacherry... Chettur Lakshmi who died young, Meenakshi of the many chins who was always searching for gold nuggets , Ammu alias Lakshmi whose mother was Sir C’s sister…Kozhipurath Parvathi, who died young of larynx cancer, Unniparu who saw a thousand full moons, Cherukad Chelanat Kunju amma’s daughter Ammalu ammas daughter Parvathi amma’s son Chelanat Govindan and who else… oh yes, Krishnakumar, Rammohan…and those unknown and un remembered.

An Ayyappa temple has been constructed by the Zamorins family. Another concrete monstrosity ,the Satram buildings, has also come up for the visitors and to house the present patron of the temple, the Executive Officer, and his durbar officials. The income of the temple is increasing and so too the number of devaswom officials. “Something always dies when the lion feeds, yet there is always meat for those that follow him”. And people are dying and more and more of their children are reaching the temple to ensure that the souls of the dead gets a smooth passage from the preta loka to the pitr loka. The navayogis installed eight idols all of which sank to the earth without a trace. The ninth (nava) mukundan also sank upto its knees. No such ill luck for the Devaswom or its officials. All monstrosities stand intact.

..prathama pindodakam tat sat

dwithya…thritya…

pardon us for not doing the dina bali

pardon the kartru dosham, improper karma and insufficient karmas

pardon us for not doing the nakshatra bali, masa bali, samvatsara bali

pardon us for not doing the Gaya shrarddham

pardon us for….

Excuses for every act of omission, commission. Packaged solutions for everything. Anticipatory bail for everything. Convenience of outsourcing. I am sure some surrogate son will perform Gaya shraddham too for a fee. I become painfully conscious that I have not done bali, tharpan, for my ancestors with shraddha. If their souls have been able to migrate to the pitru loka and Vishnu loka it must have been due to the goodness of their deeds.

Tall elephant grass has started growing in the riverbed. Most of the sand has been mined away by the sand mafia. Bags of sand seized by the local authorities in one of their sporadic raids lay on the dry river bed. The last time I was here the ‘bali’ was performed in the middle of the river on the sand bed. Now from the concrete steps you can get into deep water. The sand mafia has mined the sand so deeply. They have very considerately left a few sand bags for the people to step on to the water for taking a dip. I have a dim recollection of coming here with father for a cultural ‘mamankam’. You had to cross the river to reach the venue. It was summer and but for a small strip of water the river was dry and the sand burning hot.. The organisers had dug a deep trench in the river bed for people to cross to the other side. The banks of the trench were almost four feet high of sand. In a few decades the sand cover has all but disappeared.

“Look at the temples of Shiva and Brahma on the other bank of the river and fix your mind on them.Look towards the Navamukunda temple and pray with all your heart that the soul of the departed may be transported from the preta loka to the pitru loka and the lotus feet of Vishnu. May she join the assembly of ancestors”

And so the journey which began on 22^ndApril 1925 came to an end on 7^th April and after a brief soujourn on the world of Manes ,exactly after 85 years, claimed her rightful place in the Pitru loka. The Navamukundan in person came out of the "sreekovil" ostentiably for the ‘aarattu’ but waited patiently outside to receive her. The Chamravattom Ayyappan, not to inconvenience her, had already taken an abode in the temple complex. The caparisoned elephant stood at the door. A ‘chakiar’ performed the ‘krishnarjuna vijayam’ thullal, a favorite of her husband who joined Krishna on a Guruvayur Ekadasi day, twenty-one years ago.

Krishna’s eyes rolled again and his body trembled , this time in anticipation

“thiru mizhionnu kalangi marinju

thiru udalonnu virachhu chirichu..

Grace under pressure

“With black wings spread wide, when my soul wanders as a crow released from the pits of the hell called ‘puth’, who is there to offer me gingelly seeds, tulsi stalks and drops of water “

“ the cancer cells clinging to and growing in my uterus like some fungus..an amorphous mass, like the milky way, spreadeagled across my stomach”

‘my children..my tenthousand and one children.. my tiny, tiny dear darlings…they will offer me gingelly seeds, tulsi stalks and water..sure.”

(Mathrubhumi Vishu Pathippu Vol XLVIII-No-4-April-12-1970. Page 11 “Shishu” N.S.Madhavan, University Department, Trivandrum.)

Yes. We will offer you water….and gingelly oil…. and tulsi stalks…and sandal paste.. yes we will offer you all these to wash your face, to clean your teeth, to cleanse your body..to adorn it. For we are your children…. the once amorphous masses which lay spreadeagled across your stomach…. like the cancer cells now. Yes we will try to release you from the hell called ‘puth’ much like the cancer cells are trying to do…

Synchronicity always had a very dominant influence in my life. The magazine containing this story which I first read when it was published in 1970, came to me again in September 2009. My mother in law in one of her cleaning sprees had shifted this from her collection to Krishna. I read the story again and a few days later mother called from Ottapalam to complain about her itching!

The black crow which banged against the glass pane of the bed room in the Guest House at Arakkonam where I was dozing off one afternoon last week….the crow which dived towards me with a raucous cry the next day morning… Oh, it was just some mother crow trying to defend her nest although I could not see any nest in the nearby trees. Possible… but I like to believe that it was some soul who lost his partner some twentyone years ago trying to persuade me to let go of her.

And the silent message conveyed through the tips of my finger resting on her left hand.. left shoulder.. Raju let me go… let me sleep..let me rest.

Yes mother…we will not detain you here any longer. Time for us to answer for our deeds without your protecting arms, time to account for everything, time to atone….Well, you have been a great help. And hark! Isn’t that the Indian tree pie calling again ‘saudaaamaniiii..

“Indestructible” that is how I always thought of you. Like some solid rock against which the waves spend their energy futilely. A survivor. Scarlett Ohara is the nearest character I can think of.

Death priced out the larynx of your first born and crushed the larynx of the last born son. He took away your companion. But it did not succeed in breaking your spirit. Because you decided your remaining children needed you for some more time. Until an unseen enemy started gnawing on your entrails. Much like Arjuna hidden behind Shikhandi.

Nobody can conquer Death. But you had subdued him and made him wait. He came with his buffalo and rope in December. You said, “Wait, I don’t want to spoil my granddaughter’s wedding. Moreover the brave, like Bhisma, dies only during the Northern equinox” He tried to take her forcibly a month later. She said ‘ you are not man enough. I am the daughter of the Sun and will consider going when he is only at his zenith’. Although severely wounded, she won again. She said, " Iwant to wait for my son to come home from Abu Dhabi"

Then the bird came again and started chirping. “ saudaamaniii….saudamaniiii..” Unniettan was calling again." Maani, twentyone years is a long time. Some more of our children will join us in half that time. Besides, if you wait for Medam, you risk leaving the world on “Pancham” bringing the possibility of another death in your family in short time. Better you come. Maani.

Yes, I think I will. Children, those of you who can hear me , do hear. I am leaving

“ Earth, my mother, Air my father, Light my companion

Water my kinsman, Sky my brother, my final salutations

Attaining pure knowledge and enlightenment thru’ contact with you

I relinquish all material desires and merge with the Absolute

She did one final thing She commanded the fierce Meenam Sun to hide under a canopy of nimbus clouds so that her sons may not have to suffer, even while flames licked at her battle scarred, emaciated body.

Goodbye Amma, see you soon.

" aaj(kal) mausam beiiman hai"

There used to be small box advertisements on Page 3 of "Mathrubhumi" weekly, where the contents of that issue are listed. The advertisements used to be the same, issue after issue. One advertisement which used to appear on the top left hand corner had an Indian ink sketch of the head of a woman with jet black hair, with the caption " Prakriti parajayappedumpol....Kumari gulikakal" (When Nature fails....Kumari tablets). Presumably, Kumari tablets would ensure regular periods for women. I was not even aware of such a phenomenon at that age. Kumari tablets does not seem to be around to give solace to women any longer.
One other advertisement was "Ajantha Nalpamara Soap". I did not have even a faint idea what Naalpamara was, until destiny took me to Ernakulam to head the Bank's M.G.Road branch almost two decades and half later. Mathrubhumi weekly in those days used to be printed on inferior quality paper. Or perhaps that was the best quality paper available then. The Nalpamara Soap advertisement was shabbier than most.
It must have been during the first one week of my charge of the branch, a small man in his early sixties called on me and introduced himself as the Proprietor of Ajantha Soaps. One of Alistair McLean's thrillers starts with a sentence "A small dusty man in a small dusty room; that is how I will always remember him" The novel ends also with the same sentence.
A shabby old man in a shabby old dress. That is how I will always remember this guy. The proprietary firm had remained a small proprietary firm, even after three decades. ( 'Chandrika' grew big enough to be swallowed up by Godrej) .This firm was a chronically sick unit of the Branch being kept alive through one rehabilitation assistance after another. The loan was not called up thereby ensuring instant demise of the unit only because of the transparent honesty of the man.
I visited his small unit, somewhere near the South over bridge I think, and at that time asked him what 'Nalpamara' meant. 'Athhi, Ithhi, Arayaal, Peraal' he rolled out. The soap was apparently prepared out of the oils of these four great trees of the Ficus family. The nominal activity going on at the unit was presumably towards achievement of this supreme end!
That brings me to the subject of this post which is 'Ripening of the fruits of Peraal and the steadily declining population of flying foxes.'. An imposing tittle, I am sure; like Charles Darwin's 'The voyage of HMS Beagle and an enquiry into the Origin of Species'. But first let me wind up Naalpamara soap.
I don't have the faintest idea whether the product is still in existence. Or the proprietor. I wish that particular story had a better ending. People are fond of saying "anaayasena maranam" but I always felt that the wish contained in the second line " vina dainaena jeevanam" (life without misery) is far more desirable. The old man was not fortunate to enjoy the latter; I wish he at least had the former.

Coming to the subject with the imposing tittle, Peral belongs to the Ficus family (Ficus Religiosa) also known as Ashwatham or Bodhi or Vada Vriksham. It flowers once a year and produces tiny fruits in abundance. It is difficult to see the fruits among the thick foliage but the flocking of "Vavvaals" (flying foxes) after dusk is a sure indication. In my younger days, one could see an army of 'choola pakshis' flocking the tree during daytime. I have not seen them for years. There is a saying in Tamil: "Eraa pakshi kaada, eranga pakshi choola" because these birds never come down to the ground. These birds must be extinct now in these parts.
The 'naickanaal' has bloomed and is full of fruits and flying foxes. The ground beneath is virtually a thick carpet of withered flowers, droppings and half eaten fruits. The vavvals perform their strange walks on the branches of the tree, hanging upside down, much like Dracula did on the steep walls of his castle in Transylvania. To add to the eeriness the 'Eazhilam pala' (Indian Devil tree) has also flowered and its overpowering smell is everywhere. In short ' aaj (kal) mausam beiiman hai'.
Tailpiece: Talking of old advertisements, this one used to intrigue me for quite sometime. " Kaalan Nellayi". I used to wonder how a curry like 'kaalan' can turn into paddy!

Crows for Remembrance

Rosemary for remembrance. Crows for remembrance?

Crows are the messengers between the nether world and our world according to Greek mythology. We too beleive that they are the souls of our departed ancestors. Crows are honored guests both in Pitr' Bali and Bhootha Bali among the five great yagnas.

During my stint in Audit & Inspection, I used to stay at Sea Palace hotel in Colaba, whenever my assignment was in Mumbai. They used to give me a room on the first floor, in the middle facing the Arabian Sea. The room was much larger than the other rooms which was some consolation when you have to stay in hotel rooms for long periods. Sometimes the stay used to be three to four months at a stretch. It was during one of those long stays, I started befriending crows.

I started leaving the crusts of the bread I used to get for breakfast, with a liberal spread of Amul butter on the window sill. I never liked the crusts of the bread anyway, and butter was out of bounds on consideration of lipid profile. The crows started coming, at first hesitantly, but with increasing confidence as days went by. They used to fly in the moment I approached the window in the morning. I do not know how many of the late Kozhipurath/Chettur/Chelanat/Cherangottil guys were there but certainly they did not appear to be getting bread and butter in the Pitr' loka.

People generally do not like crows. It must be something to do with the fact that they are too numerous proving the dictum 'familiarity breeds contempt'. Certainly, they are not the ugliest. Their raucous call could be improved upon but they are capable of making less repelling sounds. If the crows were rare visitors, I am sure people would go into raptures about their glossy black feathers, their intelligence bordering on extreme cunning. Especially, the jungle crow, which is bigger and has black feathers on the back of the neck compared to grey for house cows. They are also much more vary of humans. The jungle crow can be seen mingling with the house crows but even then there is a certain aloofness. The jungle crow is our Bali kaakka.

I have a regular crowd here at Thrissur. About fifteen of them; out of which two are jungle crows. Although it is not very apparent like in the case of Mynahs, crows also move around in pairs. They prefer Chappathi pieces to bread crumbs or Iddli pieces. Except one of the jungle crows which has a preference for Iddlis. The rest of them turn their attention to bread/iddli only if chappathi pieces are not available. The usual time of visit is 6.30a.m. And after 'breakfast' they just vanish. In the beginning they used to make a lot of noise, justifying the phrase 'murder of crows' for a group of them. They do not make much noise now. They have realized that usually there is enough to go around.

Saturn is the ruling planet for Capricornians which is my Zodiac sign. It is also the 'dasha nathan' for 'Anuradha' which is my constellation. Saturn is depicted as a stern authority figure who knows 'the limits of time and matter, and brings structure and meaning to the universe'. He is the Lord of the eighth house, the house of death and of 'pitr lokam'. His 'vahanam' is the crow, the messenger between this world and the world of the departed souls. Indian system of astrology specifies a bird, a tree and an animal for each of the 27 constellations. Crow is the bird for 'anuradha'. If only the people took care of just the bird/tree/animal pertaining to their 'star' I think that will ensure adequate environment protection.

Four or five squirrels and an Indian Tree Pie have also started participating in the morning banquet. The Crows have realized that the iddli pieces tossed under the coconut palm are meant only for the squirrels and do not try to steal them. Initially, I had to shoo them away when they tried to do it but they seem to have understood the rules of the game. The 'tree pie' is an irregular visitor and is not deterred by the crowd of crows. A flock of 'seven sisters' come later and noisily pecks at all the small crumbs.

These are the usual morning customers. A crow pheasant couple spurns all attempts at familiarity and occasionally saunters on the compound wall if no one is near. The nest for the owl made as per specifications down loaded from the internet and installed at the recommended height remains untenanted. Hope one of the barn owls or mottled back owls will take a fancy to it one of these days. The 'koel' sings every morning and thereafter is not seen. A few sparrows make an occasional visit. I saw a humming bird (soochi mukhi) once after a long time. I think they are almost extinct.
I had been to Gaya in 97 or 98 and did 'tharpan' there. The souls of all my departed ancestors till that time, both in my father's and mother's lineage were expected to be propitiated by the rituals I did then. By sheer coincidence, I was at Gaya in December on a day Pandavas did 'tarpan' after the Mahabharatha war for those killed at Kurukshetra. If any of my ancestors were around to get killed in that war, I hope their souls have also found their rightful places in the 'pitr' loka'. If not they are welcome to participate in the morning banquet!