Idli – A Delectable Dish

And its origins

Without a doubt, it is a favorite of mine, and I eat a couple of fluffy Idli’s manufactured to perfection by my wife, for breakfast, at least two or three days every week. Sometimes, it is eaten with chutney, or with onion chutney (Ulli Sammandhi) made the Palghat way, but most of the time with gunpowder or Chutney podi. We have quite an assortment of these podi’s - 777, Annapurna, Brahmins, etc., on standby in the cupboard, but again, the homemade version Shoba makes rules the roost. Surely, when those steamed Idlis are dipped in the podi mixed with some oil, and chomped down, the day usually goes well.

A few studies and research have been carried out on the origins of this simple soul food, and it can be seen in the poetic works of erstwhile writers and poets, who have not failed to praise versions of the dish, though it may not have been quite the Idli we eat today, but a primitive version cooked in some fashion, perhaps not steamed, and using only certain kinds of lentils. Using terms such as snow-white incarnations of the celestial moon on your plate, it was equated to solidified lunar rays, made from the foam of the celestial Ganga, settling down as an early morning frost, or even as globular deposits of boiled nectar!! And these mentions go as far back as 1,000 years!

Over the years it has found great popularity, and the most fervent Idli ambassador has been none other than our eminent politician and writer Shashi Tharoor. His stories and experiences with the dish are fascinating and his ferocious counterattack during the infamous Idli-gate on the Brit Ed Anderson, who had the temerity to call it the most boring food in the world, enlivened social media for some days! Then again, other luminaries have expressed a fondness for it, Indira Gandhi was one, and now there is US Vice President Kamala Harris who seems to enjoy the dish.

To those who have not had the good fortune of eating Idlis, I suggest that they head to the nearest South Indian restaurant, most big cities boast one or two and order a plate (yes, they are certified Kosher, halal in NYC). They are white steamed soft and porous items, circular of course, and made of a batter of fermented rice and lentils (urad dal) mixed in an exact proportion, with some fenugreek. The type of rice and the proportions are a closely held secret in many homes, and are said to be passed on from mother to daughter or daughters-in-law! The soaked pulses are ground in a mixer (stone grinders were in vogue during my childhood days) and allowed to ferment overnight before it is steamed in a special-purpose Idli steamer, which has several racks with depressions where the batter is poured. The chutneys that go along with them are a chapter by themselves, there are so many varieties and then there is the veritable sambar which it is usually paired with. Once a South Indian breakfast staple, it has become a healthy choice in most Indian restaurants, eaten at other times as well, or always part of the breakfast buffets. In some Indian cities, one can also come across Idli corners or roadside thattukada vendors serving it at nightfall.

There is no dearth of articles purporting to be the final word on the history of the dish, many have been printed, published, copied, and forwarded, but by and far are adapted using the conclusions arrived at by the esteemed KT Achaya, India’s well-known food historian. Some have thus concluded that it was imported from Indonesia while others have happily accepted the incredible conclusions attributed to Lissie Collingham and others, of its purported Arab origins. Anyway, I decided to don the thinking cap, peruse available sources, and draft here a concise study on its origins. So, here goes!

At the outset, one aspect is very clear, that a version or versions of the dish were popular in the Kannada-speaking, Marathi, and Gujarati areas of the Indian West Coast. Tamil, Telugu, and Malayali regions seem to have been happy with the Kanji (rice gruel) for breakfast, until the 19^th or 20^th century, though scant references to tiffin’s can be found here and there, including the Dosa, mainly as tiffins. The first mentions of the Idli as a food item are therefore found in Marathi and Kannada writings, as uncovered by PK Gode and HG Narahari. As a popular dish, it moved with the Kannadigas and Marathas to the Tamilakam, post the Vijayanagar epoch, as well as Andhra and much later, to Malabar and Travancore. However, as you will see later, there is a potential for a Tamil origin as well.

Let’s start by taking a look at the earliest study on the subject, conducted and documented by Prof PK Gode from Pune. Parashuram Krishna Gode, a Sanskrit and Prakrit scholar, and Indologist, was the first Curator of the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, and cultural history was his forte. His 1955 article attempts to tabulate the advent of the dishes Idli and Dose between 1100 and 1900, and provides many a reference to their early versions, reading through ancient works.

Gode’s conclusions mention that the Sanskrit Manasollasa of the Chalukya King Someswara composed in 1130 was the earliest work mentioning something similar to the Idli. He identifies the Idarika as its possible precursor prepared from the fine flour of masa (beans) made into small circular balls; which were cooked and then spiced by the use of the powder of marica (black pepper), ghee, hingu (Asafetida), and the powder of jiraka (cumin-seeds). A second reference in Prakrit, the Supasanahacaria composed by Lakshmanagani in 1143 AD, tells the story of a young wastrel Datta who is forever enjoying life and wanders around carrying with him his favorite foods, and among many others is listed the Iddariya or the Iddarika. All this shows us that iddariya enjoyed some popularity as a delicious dish in Gujarat and Saurashtra in the first half of the 12th Century. He adds that though Idli is a Canarese and a South Indian dish, it appears to have been popular in Gujarat in the 12th Century and Maharastra up to the 16th Century, as will be seen from Saint Ekanatha’s mention of it among other popular dishes like puriya, kshiraghariya, etc. As an additional South Indian link, he locates it the Ramanuja Champu 1600 AD, which identifies Idli to be round, and made fragrant with ginger, cumin seeds, and asafetida (ramatha) and concludes with a reference to the mention of Idli in the Bjojanakuthuhala from the 17th century written by Raghunatha Navahastha, showing that it was popular in Maharashtra in the 17th century.

Nevertheless, the 20^th century Marathi Sabdakosha mentions the word idari-li as Canarese and explains it as a dish made of the fermented flour of beans (udada) and rice with salt, etc - and that the idari is said to resemble the full moon in point of shape and color (namely circular shape and whiteness. In conclusion, he brings up the Canarese dish Kadabu but is not inclined to accept it as a relative of the Idli since the preparation is quite different. He then suggested that Canarese scholars should make further studies to determine the exact connections.

Quick to answer Gode’s request was HG Narahari also from Poona, who perused Canarese works and opined thus in his paper ‘Idli in Kannada literature’.

His investigation reveals that - Iddarige or Iddalige appears to be the name by which the dish, now popular as Idli, was known to the Kannadigas of old. He locates an early mention of the Iddarige in the Supasastra of Jayabandhunandana, dating to the early 10th century or thereabouts, a dish prepared from ground black gram (urdina bele), mixed with curd and water and spiced with Asafoetida (In-gu), Cumin seeds (jirage), Coriander leaves (Kottumbari) and black pepper (menasu). Following this, he sees it in the Parsvanathapurana of Parsvapandita (1205 AD) mentioned with other dishes, as Iddalige, full of flavor and served floating in melted butter! The Santisvarapurana of Kamalabhava (1235 AD), likens Iddaliges served for dinner, to balls of the foam of the celestial river Ganga. Mangarasa III (1508 AD) in his Samyaktvakaumudi mentions it as Iddalige, while the Saundaravilasa of Annaji (1600 AD) shows that it was served in a hotel and likens its brilliance to the cool-rayed moon! The Jain poet Terkanambi Bommarasa in his Uddina Kadabu (1485 AD) likens it to globular deposits of boiled nectar or to solidified lunar rays! But Narahari concludes his study with a cryptic remark - In Karnatak at least the modern Idli is nothing more than a diminutive form of the ancient giant dish Huygadabu. Large vessels specially designed for its preparation are to be found even now in all those Karnataka homes which still keep the old tradition.

But the question remained- while Iddarige was a lentil dish cooked in some way, there is no mention of fermentation or steaming as well as the addition of rice as associated with Idlis. To confuse the matter further there was this oft-followed dictum which went back to the Manu Smriti – verses 5.9,5.10 which in essence stated- All soured substances except Curd are forbidden – with soured defined vaguely as - soured substances that have become sour by fermentation; and those that turn sour by the contact of flowers and roots.  Now that presents a perplexing question – was it for that reason only eaten by lower classes, thereby rarely getting a mention in Brahmanical texts? I don’t know, let’s leave it there for now. I searched around for the Huyga dabbu and such large vessels, but could not find any, readers are welcome to add or comment on this, as well as the similarity to the kadabu.

Now let us get to the works of KT Achaya, oft mentioned, quoted, and attributed. Using words carefully, he introduces the steamed Idli as a rice cake, and that while Tamil Sangam literature from the sixth century mentioned the dosai, they did not mention the Idli, though they are mentioned in Kannada literature four centuries later. He adds that the Dukkais are mentioned in Gujaratiu literature from 1068, though Dhoklas are only mentioned in 1520, as a steamed dish. He then goes on to list the inferences of Gode and Narahari, and agrees that three elements of Idli making are missing – namely use of rice, fermentation and finally steaming. He also mentions that Urad dhal outcomes are off-white, and snowy white results poetically described are difficult to explain, moreover, the vasena-polu from Andra for example is a urad dal or millet steamed cake, like the iddarige, but different from the Idli (I will get to this later, it is similar to the Konkani Moode). He introduces the reference to the 920 AD work Vaddaradhan by Shivakotyacarya’s which mentions it among the 18 items to be served by a lady offering refreshments to a Brahmachari!

Indonesian connection

At this stage, Achaya introduces the foreign element, to close the loop concerning fermentation and the use of rice. Quoting him - The Indonesians ferment a variety of products (soybeans, groundnuts, fish) and have a product very similar to the Idli, called kedli. It has been suggested that the cooks who accompanied the Hindu kings of Indonesia during their visits home (often enough to look for brides) between the eight and twelfth centuries AD, brought innovative fermentation techniques to South India. Perhaps the use of rice along with the dhal was an essential part of the fermentation step which requires mixed microflora from both grains to be effective. Yeasts have enzymes which break down starch to simpler forms, and bacteria (which dominate the Idli fermentation) carry enzymes for souring and leavening through the formation of carbon dioxide gas.

I could not find any dish named Kedali in Indonesia (there is a kedali tree in Java – Radermachera in Malaya), so it became apparent that Achaya was perhaps phonetically connecting the Idli to the Tape Ketan or Tape Ketella, which however is nothing like Idli. The Ketan is a combo of ragi and rice packed in leaves, while the Ketella uses casava or tapioca instead of rice. It is fermented, sweet, and alcoholic. Kedli and KIdli also failed to connect, the steamed rice cakes of SE Asia are named lontong/ketupat/nasi impit – where cooked jasmine rice is packed with fragrant pandan leaves, aromatic lemongrass, and a dash of salt, into banana leaves boiled, and served sliced as disks. The Konkani moode looks somewhat similar but is made differently. BTW, Achaya also mentions a Czech dish named Knedlik (pronounced needleek), a similar steamed product.

But then again, I could be wrong, there may have been something called Kedli, readers please direct me to any Indonesian site which explains this and I will correct this paragraph. Until this is proven, I can only say that the Kedli theory is just a suggestion.

Arab connection

This was the one that rankled, and is quoted by all and sundry - Another theory argued by other food historians like Lizzie Collingham from Britain and Kristen J. Gremillion from America, claim that Idli was actually introduced by Arab traders, when they married and settled down in the southern parts of India during the 9th to the 12th century. It is said that these Arab settlers were particular about their diet, and often wanted halal food but couldn’t clarify that too well to the local populace, which led to a lot of confusion.

Arabs started to make rice balls, which would be “flattened and eaten with a coconut paste”, as noted in ‘Encyclopedia of Food History’, edited by Collingham and Gordon Ramsay of Britain, Oxford University Press, and ‘Seed to Civilisation, The Story of Food’, by Heiser Charles B, Harvard University Press, 1990. But this is being questioned by modern food historians like Lizzie Collingham, Kristen Gremillion, Raymond Grew, Makhdoom Al-Salaqi (Syria), Zahiruddin Afiyaab (Lebanon), among others and references available at Al-Azhar’s University Library (Cairo, Egypt) also suggest that Arab traders in the southern belt gave Idli when they settled there after marrying girls from that part.

This was quite strange as an inference and appeared concocted. I could not find this encyclopedia, but Collingham in her book Curry, makes only a brief mention of Idlis, nothing about its origin, Ramsey has made a visit or two to S India for his TV series, Gremillion deals with Anthropology and American Indians, and the listed Arab historian’s unknown figures. Heiser does not mention Idlis, Mary Ellen Snodgrass who compiled an encyclopedia, connects Idli to a 6^th-century Tamil festival booklet, sans details.

Coming to the point, there are many documents and details of what the Pardesi Arabs and local Moplahs, Marakkars, and Labbais who were their progeny, ate from their early contacts. Idli was not among them, though many other rice items such as the Pathiri (rice roti), Pongappam (fermented rice batter appam), Kinnathappam (steamed sweet rice cake), and many others, steamed, fried dried or in oil figure, but nothing close to Idli’s – a dish which is ground, fermented and steamed.  There was no difficulty with halal, they could procure live animals (except cows) when they wanted and halal meat was never an issue in Malabar, Konkan, or along the way. Fragrant meat curries, flavored rice dishes, and sweets have been a fine result of this intermingling of cultures, but surely not the Idli.

One could ruminate on whether the Ethiopian Injera made of flatbread fermented teff flour and then steamed had some connections, but it is tenuous. Throughout Morocco, Tunisia, Yemen, other Middle Eastern countries, Egypt, and erstwhile Persian regions, as well as Turkey, I have not come across anything like the Idli, though they have flour pancakes.

A natural development? Chinese influence?

Xuan Zang mentions in the seventh century AD that Indians did not have a steamer used for cooking rice, but the prevalence all over the country of numerous steamed dishes like the Idli, dhokla, modakam, and puttu indicates that steaming was quite common, and one can see that a special pot was not needed for this. Nevertheless, special-purpose Idli steamers did make their entry, like the Idli-Patram, over time. A 12^th-century account related to Prithviraj Chauhan’s court (1149-92) mentions a Khirora steamed rice ball, making it clear that steaming was prevalent.

Achaya wonders (1994) if the Thosai mentioned in 6^th-century literature was fried or if it was fermented batter spread on a tava, predating the Idli. He also records that the circular appam is mentioned together with the idi-appam in the 5^th century Perumpanuru and that it was fermented rice batter.

But there is a potential Chinese link, and a link to the old Tamilakam Ma'abar which included the parts of today’s Kerala – Tuticorin (Kayal) and Quilon were the ancient ports where Chinese traded in the past. Quilon and Kerala have so many Chinese links and you can see significant Chinese influence – the fishing nets - Cheena Vala, chillies - Cheena Mulaku, pots -Cheena Chatti, Cheena Bharani, Cheena padakkam, and so many more. There were many other ports in the Tamilakam where the Chinese traded.

The earliest Chinese links date back to the 7^th century and Chinese settlements existed at Quilon (see my article Quilon and its trade links with China) with traders and sailors spending many months living there. That said, it is only natural to assume that dumpling steamers were introduced in Quilon/Tuticorin by the Chinese and possibly adapted by the locals to make versions similar to the Idli. They must have used a version of the dosa batter (rice plus urad) and steamed it to make large Idlis.

I am inclined to believe that a rice version found popularity in the Tamilakam like the Thosai mentioned in the 6^th century. In the Portuguese annals, one can find references to the fried version in the 16th century (1534) – the Paniyaram, its seller and her husband’s torn ear lobe, which started a huge caste war between the Paravas and the Marakkars/Labbais of Tuticorin and ended up with the arrival of Joao Da Cruz, St Xavier and the conversion of the entire clan to Christianity! (for details refer to my earlier article on the subject). The Paniyaram, a fried version of the Idli batter with spices seems to be more Chettinad than Muslim.

My conclusion is that the old versions of Idli were perhaps closer to the flat, large steamed Ramasseri or Kancheepuram Idlis. Later versions became smaller with the development of fine Idli patrams in rich households, as we see them today. This requires further study, and I will get to it while studying appams and the puttu.

If indeed the Idli was a natural development from the iddarike and the dhokla, it traveled with the Kannadigas and Marathas to Madurai where they settled down. The Siva Pallakiseva Prabandham, a seventeenth-century work by King Sahahaji, mentions Idlis. Perhaps the Sambar, apparently of Maratha origin, came to be paired with Idli’s during the reign of the Maratha kings at Madurai, then again as it was earlier popular in Maharashtra, the use of dal curries with Idlis may have started even earlier.

The popularization in Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay was by Udupi and Palghat Iyer hotels that initially served Madrasi bachelor employees on the prowl, a quick and cheap breakfast. Thankappan Nair explains its introduction in Calcutta over many a page, well worth reading.

We have so many versions today, the Rava Idli (I recounted its story some years ago), the Kanchipuram Idli, The Mini and masala Idli, the Oats Idli, Quinoa Idli, Pesarattu Idli, Paneer Idli, Sweet Idli, the Khusboo Idli (named after the unconventional Tamil cinema star - spongy because of the use of castor seeds) and many more to come.  Idly upma from leftover Idlis proved to be a good idea! The Konkani Moode is cylindrical and steamed in screw pine leaves. The unconventional ones that most readers may not know are the two varieties from Palghat, namely the Ramasseri Idli (pictured above on banana leaves) and the Rangayyan or the spicy ‘Brahmin meat’ Idli.

Idli’s were served in certain legs of Indian Airlines in the past (an irate passenger complained of getting a toothpick in his Idli at 30,000’– now if you wonder how that came to happen, that is indeed how a housewife knows if the Idli is cooked – push in a toothpick, if the batter is seen sticking to the withdrawn pick, it is not yet ready), but I am not sure they do these days. Though not connected, I can tell you that Chinese domestic flights serve Kanji for breakfast and they are quite good!

According to Thankappan Nair’s research on Idli eating competitions, K Ramamurthy who gobbled 34 Idlis in 15 minutes for a Delhi competition in 1976 was the first national champion, followed by the 11-year-old Swetha. The 6-footer Easwara Iyer, a Lok Sabha member, and a stalwart of the Bhim club in Cochin unfortunately withdrew after eating just 5 (I can easily beat that) in 1980, but Gopakumar and James Koshy triumphed eating 27 each. Sadly, Prasad of Kollengode died after failing to swallow what he ate, choking on his Idlis, though winning the local 2-minute eating contest in 2001 at Vattekad. But Theeta Rappai, the monster eater from Trichur beats them all, he used to eat 75 in a sitting!

The story of the venerable Puttu, another favorite of mine, and further exploration of Chinese links will follow, but then, here at home, our stock of Idli in the fridge has been depleted, so let me digress and head to the kitchen to convince my better half in completing a new batch for next week.

References

Indian Linguistics Vol 15, 17 (papers by PK Gode and HG Narahari)

South Indians in Kolkata – P Thankappan Nair

A historical dictionary of Indian food (1998) – KT Achaya

Indian food: a historical companion (1994) – KT Achaya

Setting the Table - KT Achaya’s pioneering scholarship on Indian food, Mayukh Sen Caravan

Historic Alleys - Quilon and its trade links with China

Maddy’s Ramblings - Sir John of the Cross – The First Malabar Envoy to Portugal and The torn earlobe and the horse trader

Idli gate – some details

VKN Story - Varada narrates Prathal  

Read More

On and Under the High Seas – Part 1

As the oceans churned – WW II 1942 – the incredible story of Paul Luckenbach

Many of the WW II stories we have read thus far touch on glorious and inglorious land and air battles and missions, but there were an equal number of risky ventures and fights, daring exploits and missions performed in the sea, and not to forget, under it. So long as there is mankind, there will be war and when bigger wars take place, water, land, and air will all figure in them. Not too far is the future where space wars in a vacuum will also be featured, of that I have no doubt.

This is a story where so many events and places get interconnected. Of course, I chose the intersection at the locale in the Southwest of India, namely Malabar, where I hail from. Once a teeming entrepôt of trade, it was by the 20^th century a bunch of sleepy roadsteads, where an occasional cargo ship came to pick up spices, coir, or other goods, where Arab and Marakkar dhows continued small trade and where British administrators spent sleepy days, perfecting their bureaucratic charades, and hoping to get a transfer to the teeming metropolises of Bombay, Calcutta, Madras, Delhi or if exceedingly lucky, a plum assignment at Shimla.

I can assure you, none of you would have ever heard this story or read it anywhere.

World War II rages

By 1939, WW II had erupted and was soon raging in Europe, while far east, China had been under attack by Japan since 1937. Soon Western Europe had fallen to the Axis powers, the Mediterranean was getting overrun and by 1941 the Germans after the blitzkrieg of Europe, were knocking at the gates of Russia. Down south, the Japanese entered the scene after bombing Burma, walked over Malaya, as their navies subdued Singapore, and took control over the entire SE Asia. Their strategy was then to shore up, obtain raw materials, get them to Japan and it was felt, later to plan an attack on India. Just before this they had attacked and taken control of Indochina in the North and were in control over the SE region. Groups intent on liberating India from the British, such as the ISI and IIL were now trying to team up with the Japanese. In Dec 1941, Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, and this resulted in America entering the war. Commotion was evident everywhere though, by 1942, the Axis movements in Europe and Russia had stalled and moves were on within the Allied ranks to strategize and defeat Germany.

Liberty ships, Murmansk Run, and the Persian Corridor

Ramping up shipbuilding efforts, America was at the forefront in supplying what were known as liberty ships, to transport war material and other supplies to the beleaguered Russians, through the British. These very risky runs through the Arctic seas infested with German destroyers and subs, to Murmansk, resulted in the loss of many such cargo ships.

Liberty ships were a class of cargo ships built in the United States during World War II under the Emergency Shipbuilding Program. This low-cost British concept in design was adopted by the United States, for its simplicity and low manufacturing time and effort.

The Victory ship, on the other hand, was another class of cargo ship produced in large numbers by Americans to replace losses caused by German submarines. More modern in design compared to Liberty ships, they were slightly larger, faster, and equipped with powerful steam turbine engines, and formed high-speed convoys, but at the same time, more difficult targets for German U-boats.

 To circumvent the problems in the Arctic seas, a Persian corridor was opened, where the material would be shipped out from America via the Indian Ocean route, circumnavigate the Cape of Good Hope, and land up to disgorge their goods at Persian ports. From there they would be sent to Russia by trains and trucks. (Hopefully, you remember the names of the two Indians - Gajendra Singh and Subedar Narayan Rao Nikkam who were awarded ‘Orders of the Red Cross’ by the Russians for their efforts!). The entire Persian corridor and liberty ship effort was funded and set up by the Americans, and interestingly one of the specialists involved was Col Norman Schwarzkopf Sr, a police officer and father of Gen Norma Schwarzkopf of the Gulf War!

In addition to building specialty ships for transporting men and material, the American government under the War Act, took over some of the private merchant ships plying the seas – e.g., ships from the Luckenbach Steamship Co.

The Luckenbach Steamship Co

Edgar Frederick Luckenbach, Sr. was an American shipping magnate who inherited his father's steamship company, which he incorporated in 1913 under the name Luckenbach Steamship Company. During wartime, the Luckenbach Steamship Company operated Victory ships, Liberty ships, and a few Empire ships. Interestingly all except two of the 59 company’s ships were named after family members (some - more than one) of Edgar Luckenbach.

Paul Luckenbach

The ship was originally built in Germany, at the Bremer Vulkan Werft yards, in 1913 and was originally called the SS Mark and fled to the neutral US during WW 1. It was renamed the SS Suwanee in 1917, seized by the US Govt in 1917 and later incorporated in the US Navy in 1919. Decommissioned in 1920, it went back to the shipping board, where it became the SS Poznan, and finally was named the SS Paul Luckenbach, in 1922, after its acquisition by the Luckenbach Steamships. In March 1942, this and two other ships of Luckenbach were requisitioned by the WSA for war shipping efforts and chartered to the US government.

Convoy & Sinking of the ship

Paul Luckenbach departed New York on 10 July 1942 with a crew comprising 44 merchantmen and 17 Navy sailors to man the guns which had by then been fitted on all merchant ships. The ship was loaded with tanks and planes meant for the beleaguered Russian military. Stopping at Delaware, Virginia, and Key West, they fueled at Port of Spain and proceeded to Africa on Aug 12^th, 1942, when the ship struck an object, rendering its rudder useless. The crew determined that they had struck a submarine surfacing and with that the very large convoy comprising some 300 ships (as a survivor stated) separated, each on its own. As it occurred, two vessels Haresfield and Ocean Honour were torpedoed and sunk that morning.

SS Paul Luckenbach

Though the ship was taking in water and leaking, there was no chance of going back, so they continued to Cape Town, got repaired, and left on Sept 7^th, avoiding Madagascar.  Having heard tales of horrible slaughter by the Japanese, the Americans sailed with dread in their mind, of being machine-gunned to death after they were torpedoed. Though the Germans were honorable and took prisoners, some of the callous Japanese captains were ruthless.

Matsu a.k.a. the I-29 strikes

Lying in wait under the dark waters, were a few U boats from the recently deployed 3^rd group of the 6^th Japanese fleet, 8^th squadron (with 10 subs), based in Penang, and overseen by Admiral Sasaki. One among them was the relatively new B1 Submarine - nicknamed Matsu (pine tree) - I-29, a patrol class submarine, captained by Juichi Izu. Built in 1939, and launched as the I-33 in 1940, it was retitled the I-29 in Nov 1941 and attached to the 8^th fleet in March 1942.

The sub carried a small reconnaissance aircraft, 17 torpedoes, a 14cm gun, and a crew of 94. The crew had been having a torrid time, for the subs had no air conditioning, and with a range of some 16,000 miles, they had been at sea for a long time. It had at least three kills before Izu caught up with the Paul Luckenbach.

At 6:25 am on Sept 22, 1942, a torpedo fired by I-29 struck the Paul Luckenbach on the port side at the #1 hatch and the ship started to sink. Lifeboats were lowered and the crew were in the water, waiting and watching the ship, which had stabilized, after which the crew decided to reboard the vessel. But then the second torpedo struck at 8:05 and the crew abandoned ship boarding the four lifeboats.

Izu, unlike many other Japanese captains, was an honorable man, he did not come up and machine gun the survivors to death. He left them alone.

I -29 - another mission

Somehow avoiding getting sucked into the vortex created by the sinking ship, the four sailing lifeboats, now distributed with 14-17 people each, were soon left at the mercy of the elements, with the monsoon winds blowing West as the captain decided that they would head for Indian shores, some 800 miles away.

A short circuit in the sinking ship suddenly lit the ship up and with all lights glowing, the Paul Luckenbach consigned itself to the depths of the Indian Ocean at location 10°03'N, 63°42'E, taking with it the 18 tanks and the 10 B25 Mitchell medium bomber aircraft, shackled in its holds.

The survivors head to Malabar – Monsoon run.

We know what happened next from the short account of the next few days as recounted by 2^nd mate Arnold T Hasen. It does not make sense to retell the whole story, but the 17 passengers in the boat had a desperate time, with little food and hardly any water, survived the fast ride with the monsoon winds, with many falling sick and close to death with exhaustion and malnutrition. On the 9^th day, they managed to catch a small dolphin and eat it raw, smeared with a little dab from an onion! By the 13^th day, they had run out of water, but miraculously, on the 15^th day it rained, and they managed to slake their thirst. Day 16- most people had given up and many were prepared to jump overboard and die, but they sighted a fishing vessel that kept a safe distance from them thinking they were the enemy, and though conversation (that commenced after the fishermen spotted the colored American nicknamed “muscles”) across the wide waters was impossible with the Americans speaking English and the fishermen speaking Malayalam, nevertheless, the shipwrecked passengers knew they were closer to shore and spirits lifted. In another couple of days, they saw the water changing color and sighted gulls in the air.

On the 20^th day, they sighted land – perhaps like Vasco da Gama, but this time, the sailors saw the smoke from a passing train, in North Malabar. The boat was sailed into the beach and as natives gathered, they found three who spoke English. The location where they had landed on Oct 12, 1942, my friends, was Pallikare, North of Cannanore and Nileswaram, close to the Bekal fort.

It was about 7 am and soon the tired sailors savored their first hot drink of Malabar tea, and by 2 pm, they were served a succulent, hot & spicy Chicken biryani, The train stopped there as well, waiting to evacuate the shipwrecked passengers.

Arnold explains – The natives got together and pooled their food and at about 2:00 pm, they served us curried rice and chicken, Indian style. It was served to us on palm leaves, and we had to eat it with fingers. Food at last, and did we tear into it! It was filled with hot spices and peppers, and while I don’t believe I could eat it again, I certainly ate every bit of it that day!

This food, nevertheless, and as you can imagine played havoc in the intestines of these blokes who had hardly eaten for 20 days, thus far surviving on a biscuit or two every day! Violent bowel movements in the outback with crows yapping behind in anticipation, was not something the Americans had prepared for, but that was how it was. Meanwhile, the train waited for the 17 passengers. At 4 pm, they boarded the train, destined for Mangalore, bidding goodbye to Malabar. The train stopped often, and each station was filled with locals waiting to get a view of the 17 blackened and grimy Americans who had sailed 800 miles to safety!

At Mangalore, the survivors were treated by doctors, fed and bedded, clothed and cared for, and eventually, on Oct 16^th, they took a train to Madras, then the train to Colombo, traveling another 750 miles, arriving there on Oct 20^th. Heading back, some of them arrived in New York on Nov 23^rd.

The other ships also made land miraculously, two landed at the Laccadives, and the survivors arrived at Calicut and Cannanore, while the third lot was picked up in the sea!

Bombay Aug/Sept 1942 – Quit India, Congress Radio

At Bombay, things were in turmoil. After the Allied Powers had suffered severe reverses in the war, the Japanese capture of Penang and Singapore and advances into Malaya and Burma had shaken the British. The "Quit India" movement was initiated, and the Government was in disarray, with the public clear that it was unable to defend India against Japanese advances. Gandhiji’s campaign started late in April 1942, asking the British to leave. The British furious, contemplated deportation of Gandhiji to Aden or Nysasaland and the principal Congress leaders to Uganda or elsewhere in East Africa.

Congress leaders were arrested, and the masses were aroused, especially the youth in Bombay. One could witness the uprooting of railway tracks, tampering with postal and communication systems, attacks on police forces, damaging power, and so on. Demonstrations were common, and Elphinstone College was one of the premier institutions that had several students taking part in the activities. Textile mills and the Stock Exchange closed, while the economy was shattered, and chaos reigned in Bombay.

Students of the Elphinstone, Sydenham, and St. Xavier colleges were arrested, including girls. One among the protesting students was a fervent and fiery freedom fighter, a young girl from Malabar. She managed to establish a good rapport with a senior Army officer, a suave Indian working for the British. He states - She came to see me late one night and asked me to get a secret wireless transmitter repaired. She also told me that the police were after her and the wireless station from which beamed many unauthorized nationalist broadcasts against the British. An Indian army mechanic whom I knew locally came, on the quiet, 'to do his bit' for his country and put this transmitter in order.

That would surely be one of the Congress transmitters that Usha Mehta and the rest of the radio underground worked with and were waiting for to get back on air. This chit of a girl had managed to get it repaired somehow! A month later, the radio broadcasted events, though not always current, but chosen to strike a chord in the minds of similarly intentioned Indians, those upset with the British.

Two of the announcements are noteworthy.

This is congress radio calling from India at 42.34 meters, providing uncensored news in Hindustani… said the female announcer…

On 12th Oct the announcement said – Malabar – Some Japanese submarines are reported to be operating along the west coast and other areas.

On 2^nd Nov, it stated – The Japanese have torpedoed a ship near Kerala and Calicut. Several dead bodies of American soldiers were found near the Sea Shore….

As you can see, it was off by a month, and not quite the truth.

Well, I had studied the story of the Congress radio some months ago and was a bit surprised at this news, so went after it. Later I came across the story of the mystery girl, and I will recount that sad tale, another day.

But it was the search for the American sailors at Calicut that led me to this incident! All 61 Americans survived the 800-odd-mile voyage on the Arabian Sea, braving the elements over 20-27 days.

Why were the fishermen scared? It was due to the knowledge that Japanese subs were on the prowl, even close to the Malabar shoreline. Or because they came across a couple of submarines that delivered several Indian revolutionaries to the same coast, an event that resulted in much police activity, questioning, and arrests a month ago. I had recounted that story, the story of Kumaran Nair and Abdul Khadir, two of the revolutionaries, some years before.

The aftermath

Harry C. Argo was another survivor, a gunnery mate of the Paul Luckenbach, he survived the saga tailed by sharks and was one of those who ended up at or near Calicut. He mentions that they (the survivors were sent over several cargo ships headed to the US, presumably) were then headed back to NYC in another cargo ship, the SS Sawokia, which was sunk by the German raider HK Michel, on Nov 29^th, 400 miles NW of Madagascar. He was one among the 19 survivors, miraculously surviving 2 shipwrecks in 2 months! The Germans held him prisoner for three months on board their raider ship, as they continued their attacks and sank more vessels, but treating him well. Eventually, they turned him over to the Japs after reaching Singapore. It was hell for Argo after that, he was beaten and tortured as a Japanese POW at the Hokkaido camp holding 900 POWs, over two years. Released after the war, Argo lived a calmer life in the US and passed away in Baltimore on Jan 13, 2006.

I am not quite sure, but I think it was the same Arnold T. Hansen, the veteran from East Northport, who passed away on Feb. 12, 2019, the survivor who wrote the Luckenbach account. He must have been a centenarian, by then!

After the war, a claim for just compensation was filed by the Luckenbach steamships, as they lost three ships Paul, Mary & Edward Luckenbach. Various tax claims and denials were contested, and life continued as usual. However, over time, the Luckenbach Steamship Company failed to upgrade to container ships and modernize as other shipping lines did in the 1970s, and with the Vietnam War ending, the Luckenbach Steamship Company closed in 1974, all ships being sold or scrapped due to age.

The I-29 returned to Penang after a successful run, on 5^th Oct 1942 and went on to have a remarkable wartime record for a Japanese submarine, sinking many more merchant ships. It was one of the few Japanese submarines to make multiple successful Yanagi missions to Germany, during which the Germans and the Japanese traded raw materials, important persons, and technical data. The continued adventures of the I-29 and its connection to India will be explored in the next article. Juichi Izu was part of many more exploits before losing his life in another submarine that was sunk by the Allies.

America supplied quite a bit of armaments - over 41 billion rounds of ammunition, some 300,000 aircraft, and over 88,000 tanks during World War II. Originally slated to build 50 ships a year for 10 years, the Maritime Commission ended up building over 5,000 ships by the end of 1945, including 2,710 of the iconic Liberty ships. These ships got the armaments across to various parts of the world, though a lot was lost in submarine and raider attacks.

Pallikare is pretty much the same these days, a calm N Malabar beach. I doubt if the inhabitants witnessed any other surprises since then and I doubt if any of the descendants ever remembers the story of the American survivors at their beach or the story of the biriyani they served to the weary and grateful sailors.

I read the survivor story as WW2 Museum and the rest of New Orleans, were hunkered down with hurricane Francine bearing down on them a couple of weeks ago, while the curators of the museum transferred the file containing Hansen’s astounding story to me. Thank you, Kim and Toni!

References

Robert T Hansen – Survivors account, courtesy WWII Museum, New Orleans, and many thanks to the curators for kindly allowing me access, and James Linn whose article ‘A Lifeboat Survival Saga’ connected me to the account.

The fourth Service – John Slader

The Naval War in South African Waters, 1939-1945 - Evert Kleynhans

The Eastern Fleet and the Indian Ocean, 1942–1944: The Fleet that Had to Hide - Charles Stephenson

The Fujita Plan - Mark Felton

The Japanese Submarine force and WW II – Carl Boyd and Akihiko Yoshiada

A Lifeboat Survival Saga – James Linn

Related Maddy’s Ramblings articles - Congress radio

 

Notes

I was in Reykjavik last week and understood that during the war there were some 40-50,000 Allied military service people quartered there, many of course involved in the action at the Arctic seas. Those waters must be chockablock with ship and sub wrecks, deep down.

In Iceland, we were checking into a hotel in the middle of nowhere as they call it, near Hofn. Incredibly, after all this study, we saw a man wearing a T shirt with the word Luckenbach emblazoned across it, sipping a drink, by the window. Astonished, I asked if he had anything to do with the Luckenbach family, but he replied in the negative saying that Luckenbach on his T shirt symbolized the Texan town famed for its country music and added that there had been several German immigrants there, in the past! The town has an interesting history, check this link out, if interested.

My friend tells me that this is typical of the Baader Meinhof phenomenon!! The Baader–Meinhof phenomenon refers to the false impression that something happens more frequently than it does. This often occurs when we learn something new. Suddenly, this new thing seems to appear more frequently, when it is only that our awareness of it that has increased.

The interesting role of I-29 and other subs based in Penang, and their connections to the fortunes of India, will be covered in the next part of this story.

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Pioneers of The Cashew Industry

 The Comma Nut’s Tale - Quilon (Kollam)

It was the mention of the Vitapack technology that drew me to this research and went on to uncover the story of how the cashew industry was set up in India and detail the role America had to play in it. As I continue, you will find interesting intersections with many other stories that we have covered previously, the Americans in Travancore, Pierce Leslie, trade unionism, the TNB and Quilon bank, CP Matthen, Monazite, and so on. But to reach there, we must head to Quilon in Kerala, a port of fame since ancient times, be it the case of Romans, the Chinese, or the Persians, trading for spices.

I had in an earlier article traced the advent of the plant and the nut (Parangi Andi or Andi paruppu) to Malabar shores, and the role played by the Portuguese. A member of the poison ivy family, it was originally a native of Brazil where people threw away the nut after eating the sweet fruit, thence planted in Africa and finally In India, where it found much favor in Goa and Kerala, though remaining a poor man’s crop but as a rich man’s food.

The chronicler of Pierce Leslie’s fortunes in India, detailing the cashew, rises to poetry - Malabar has no monopoly of this tree, which is indigenous to Brazil and grows more extensively in East Africa; But what Malabar does possess above all others are the nimble fingers and unrivalled skill of its beautiful women who alone make its benefits available to the markets of the world.

The Portuguese planted many trees in Goa (to prevent soil erosion, or so it seems) and soon found use for the nuts in curries, to tone down the spice levels and thicken it (as done even today in richer Indian curries) and of course the fruit to make the potent local hooch – Fenny, a drink which though very popular tends to leave a noticeable stink in your sweat. But it was in Quilon, Mangalore, and Calicut, that methods were devised to get the nut out of the kernel safely and use it as a snack. The British pioneered an enterprise, after which the Americans took over when it became a huge hit in the United States, as a cocktail accompaniment. So wildly popular did it become that after an initial shipment of a few hundred cases, the USA became its sole user until the Second World War, accounting for 95% or more of the exports from India. The story of the nut is heady and not without its share of intrigue, exploitation, tragedy, and whatnot.

Within a decade starting around 1923, Quilon became the epicenter of the industry. Manufacturers increasing volume started using new technologies, boilers, roasters, and furnaces. A byproduct CNSL or Cashew Nut Shell Oil extracted from the shells, was discovered to have some industrial uses. In those days, roasting was usually done carefully in open iron pans over a small earthenware furnace, and a bit of water was thrown over the nuts to extinguish the flames. Once the roasted nuts had cooled, they were shelled skillfully (to avoid kernel breakage) with wooden mallets, mostly by women. It is then roasted again, skinned by hand, and finally, cleaned and graded to US standards. Initially, they were packed between paper sheets and crated in wooden boxes for shipment. This did not work for the two-month shipment and sea air spoiled the nuts. The Tin containers packed with processed nuts were vacuumed using hand-operated vacuum pumps, sealed, and shipped. Again, they went rancid, continued to be attacked by insects, and arrived unfit for human consumption. Habicht Braun & Co. and AC Herrmann & Co. were some of the initial buyers of some 200 cases in 1923

Americans knew a bit about Travancore by then and had ships plying to Alleppey, where, as you may recall, American Companies such as Darragh and Smail had set up coir industries. The volume of business was quite good, and it even resulted in the set-up of a US consulate at Alleppey, which I had detailed previously. How did the Americans get into this business and find a cost-effective way to ship this produce many thousand miles to ports in the USA, avoiding spoilage?

A solution to the shipping problem was found and patented by Thomas Rector, a Chemical Engineer whose account is interesting and connects to his earlier invention – packing moist coconuts in an inert Carbon Dioxide environment to keep them fresh. Working for the Central Research Laboratory in a General Foods Hoboken NJ plant, he amassed over 30 patents in food processing (interestingly, during WW II, he worked for the Chemical Warfare Service!)  The story goes thus -

One fine morning about ten years ago (1922) a Hindu cashew grower walked into Mr. Rector's office at the Franklin Baker plant, Hoboken, N. J., with a problem and a query. The problem: Indian meal moths, and also grain beetles, were laying eggs in cashew nuts ready for export, the eggs were hatching while the nuts were being shipped, and the shipments were turning up pretty badly spoiled! The query: Would Mr. Rector's newly developed and successful patented method of packing coconut moist, in carbon dioxide gas - kill the eggs and make exporting cashews more than a commercial headache? Mr. Rector went into the problem with enthusiasm and to make a long story found that his inert gas process -trademarked Vitapack -was exactly what the cashew nut business needed.

With the help of D. Tenny, Rector developed the process called ‘Vita Pack’ in which air was vacuumed out from filled containers and replaced with an inert gas such as carbon dioxide (He patented it formally in 1924).  With that, the company’s involvement in the cashew business was sealed, and it became the largest US importer of the comma nut. Rector visited Mangalore personally to get this all started and as a result, importing of cashew nuts into America increased from less than 100,000 pounds annually to more than 8,000,000 pounds by 1931.

In 1925, Pierce Leslie using the new packing, technology at their Calicut factory shipped some 25 cases to the USA (Note however that Mangalore continued to be the main center of the business, till it moved to its next and final home, Quilon). PL did their packaging or CO2 tinning in Calicut. Mr. Jefferies who developed this technology for PL using Rector’s technique, also designed the drum roaster, which became the mainstay for the roasting process. By 1923 a load of 45 tons was shipped and just to note, it took 45-50 days by ship then, to reach the USA. In a few years, the quality improved, and the number of condemned shipments reduced drastically. News of its fit as a cocktail accompaniment spread and it became a hit in America.

Who was the Hindu cashew grower? There were very few South Indian Hindus in those days in the USA, though one could find Sikhs here and there. Furthermore, the 1917 US Immigration Law instituted the Asiatic Barred Zone, to prevent “undesirables” from immigrating to the U.S., an act primarily targeted individuals migrating from Asia. So, who could that Hindu be? Hold on, I will get to it.

The Mangalore units already had some representation in the US, and Malabar was represented by Pierce Leslie, but the costs were relatively high.  Coupled with loose regulations, and a large lower-class working population of Quilon where cashew trees were growing in plenty, a new industry sprang up. Preservation had been solved with CO2 packing, and those using it paid a 5% royalty to Vitapack. Some exporters preferred low-cost vacuum packing, but it had a limited shelf life. The tins were incidentally provided by Tata’s of Cochin.

Quilon – The Cashew Citadel of the World

Quilon for some reason had many cashew trees and eventually became home to the industry, after Mangalore and Goa. Cashew trees, as you may know, can flourish in hot humid conditions and hence are distributed in locations near the equator. Moreover, Quilon has been a popular port since the 12^th century. Early cashew processing relocated to Travancore mainly to escape British Indian labor laws which had regulated working hours and child labor since 1881. The availability of nuts locally, new financiers, and the existence of a railway and a usable port made things easy.

The early pioneers in this cashew business are not so well known, though mentions are made here and there, with a few errors. Most of them were from Tuticorin and Tirunelveli. The earliest were the families of the well-known Parava Jathi Thalaivar Roche Victoria (also politicians and administrators) and his sons, their in-laws the Periera’s, well-established businessmen in Tuticorin and Ceylon. The families were well-known exporters (FX Periera and Sons) of many goods to the West and were well set up in Ceylon and Travancore. Many had previously assumed they were from Ceylon, but this error crept from the fact that RV was educated in Ceylon and had business interests there as well, and to clarify, he was the first administrator of Tuticorin. Same with Periera, who ran many businesses in Ceylon.

JEA Periera and JLP Roche started the first organized unit circa 1925, which collected cashew nuts in shells from many small growers, and hand-roasted them, employing hundreds of women to peel them by hand. Roche and Periera had many foreign connections and also dabbled in mineral exports to Europe and America. Apparently, their financier was one JS Naidu from Tirunelveli, their unit was supervised by one Antony Muthu Pillai and the accountant was PV Swaminathan, per information from KC Govindan, a prominent trade union leader of that period.

As it happened, one of Naidu’s brothers lived in the USA and helped the team secure orders from US buyers. Now I would assume that it was this Naidu, the Hindu, who approached Thomas Rector with the cashew problem around 1922-23.

W T Anderson, who was in Alleppey, dealing with the Coir Industry since the early 1900s, then dove in and started WT Anderson & Co in 1931, employing some 2,000 workers, to jumpstart a larger setup. As you can imagine, the business grew manyfold, and PV Swaminathan later teamed up with Anderson to form the India Nut Company.

By 1936, the 20 or so factories in Quilon collectively employed over 20,000, mostly women, working with their hands. Over 40% of the exports were from their efforts while Mangalore still accounted for 20% and other units in Bombay, Vengurla and Goa accounted for another 25%. The balance 15% came from several areas, including India’s East Coast (mostly used for local consumption as they were considered of inferior quality).

American inspectors and buyers lived in Quilon, and one among them was John Michael Casey a buyer, who later became a manager at Indian Nuts. Close to a hundred Americans lived in the Cochin – Alleppey- Quilon area, during this period, working in various trading enterprises.

CP Matthen and the Quilon Bank

The business flourished, with the entry of CP Matthen who had started the Quilon Bank in 1919. Matthen says - At the time (I guess around 1923) I embarked on business, the cashew nut was not considered a valuable commercial commodity. It was all but a mere wild growth, yielding a sporadic income to a few scattered petty merchants. As a banker, I chanced to come into contact with the representative of a big American Corporation, by name General Foods. He was interested in the export of Cashew nuts to his country. I knew of the abundance of cashew trees and of the fitful and inadequate utilization of its produce. I helped the American in getting supplies, not only of the raw cashew nut but also of such manufactured products as were in vogue. The first field we tapped was the area around Quilon. Who could that representative be - Anderson or Johnson? I presume it was Anderson, as he was around before Johnson.

The immediate result was most promising. As the better class of merchants declined to show any interest in it, I had recourse to a class of small merchants. Though they appreciated the possibilities, were unfortunately handicapped by want of sufficient resources. The Quilon Bank promptly came to their rescue and financed them liberally. From 1925 onwards, the main business of our bank was the financing of the business in these nuts.

After a successful beginning in Cashews, Anderson, Matthen, and Swaminathan became partners not only in banking but also in the mineral and other businesses, which had American buyers (The US was deeply interested in the Monazite sands of Travancore, see this article for details). The business soon yielded a revenue of some Rs 10 Lakhs and went on to become a cash crop and the creation of affluence in the quiet town of Quilon. The bank branched out into the more lucrative mineral business, merged with the National bank to create the TNQ bank (Anderson became its director, Swaminathan its GM), crossed swords with Sir CP and soon it was a downright mess, dragging Anderson, Swaminathan and others into it, yet another story we recounted some months ago.

Meanwhile, business continued, and many others formed companies, the owners and units in Mangalore and Malabar moved to Quilon due to cost reasons, and suppliers to Swaminathan and Anderson such as Tangal Kunju Musaliar formed their units. Pierce Leslie, Volkart, and Aspinwall used the infrastructure to expand into cashew businesses in Quilon.

Towards the end of 1937, things started to go south. Labor problems started first at the Coir Mills at Alleppey, then at the cashew units in Quilon. Both industries employing many tens of thousands of women, were centers of exploitation, and strikes became commonplace, disrupting work.

WT Anderson

It is not quite clear where W T Anderson came from, nor is his background known. Most indications are that he was an American, who as I said initially dabbled in the Coir business( he wrote the first report on the industry in Alleppey), was presumably an associate of Darragh and Smail. Numerous letters and mentions of his pleas with Sir CP surface in the TNQ case files, but he is still somewhat of an unknown. One can read of problems in his factories, also of a Malayalam song written around the baron and sung by the female workers in his plants.  He seems to have after the TNB furor, moved on and settled in Coonoor for retirement, but otherwise scant records exist about this entrepreneur, the original American pioneer in Quilon. Anderson the second Cashew King (After Rector who used to be called the Original King) once sailed to New York, just to popularize its eating as a ‘touching’s’ or snack accompaniment, with beer!!

PV Swaminathan

Accounts about Swaminathan in the Cashew, mineral, and banking sectors of that time are not flattering at all. Swaminathan was the son of the famous Tuticorin lawyer Vengu Iyer and hailed from Tirunelveli. He took to business in Madras as a youth aged 15 and arrived in Quilon around 1924. Teaming up with Anderson, they formed India Nuts and later branched out into banking (Director & GM Quilon, TNQ bank), Aleppey Co, Quilon Aloes, etc. After the TNQ bank mess, Swaminathan’s cashew plantations and other investments were liquidated and gifted to certain vested interests for a pittance (Seems Swaminathan's 250 acres of cashew plantation was taken by one Kukkhilaya for Rs.1000/-)

Lindsay Johnson Franklin

Lindsay Johnson Franklin was a key personality who was deputed by General Foods to Quilon. He arrived sometime in 1928 to represent GFC and streamline their business. He went back, got married to Elsa, and obtaining a 3-year extension from GFC, settled down in Quilon where the couple designed and built a fabulous mansion called Cashew House in 1935. The LF Johnson Co was involved in buying and forwarding cashews and other commodities such as minerals (Monazite, Titanium Oxide, etc.) to the USA. He loved Quilon dearly, and christened their daughter Kerala, at a time when the state had neither been named so, nor formed! Alas! Travancore turned out to be quite unkind to him!

As could be expected, he teamed up with the trio of Anderson, Swaminathan, and Matthen. Presumably, the business went on quite well until the TNQ mess started in 1938 or thereabouts. As the liquidity of the TNQ bank was threatened, it appears that he colluded with Swaminathan or helped his friend out by signing some promissory notes or cheques, to fudge the balance sheet of the bank, a huge undoing. This became a key aspect when whistle-blower Ramanujam teamed up with Sir CP to sink the bank and put CP Matthen and others behind bars. Anderson and Swaminathan somehow avoided censure and I guess that Anderson passed away soon after while Swaminathan continued as the Cashew baron, with Johnson.

An issue to contend with was the placement of CNSL in the strategic list during WW II (as it was used in the aircraft industry as an armature lubricant) and the ban of Cashew to the US without corresponding CSNL quantities.

Johnson had to leave as WW II started, but he never returned, and as rumor has it, Johnson’s “Cashew House’ house was appropriated by Swaminathan, and used to pay off debts. After the legal issues were settled and the liquidators had walked away with the fortunes of Matthen, Anderson, and many others involved in the TNQ saga, the home was acquired by our pioneer cashew man FX Periera (Nowadays it is the HQ of the KSCDC).

Cyclopedia records mention that LF Johnson returned to America after the death of his partner. Since Swaminathan was still around in Quilon, it must have been after the death of Anderson.

The new Cashew king – Tangal Kunju Musaliar

The old empire was in ruins, Matthen was in jail, Swaminathan was embroiled in court cases, Anderson either retired or dead, Johnson was back in the US, and the FX Pereira and Roche were not involved anymore. Nevertheless, the cashew business was not so to say, in shambles.

Ignatius in his article, heralds the arrival of a new King - The end of the world war brought new fortunes and stronger international market destinations to the Quilon cashew sector, and I was flushed with excitement. Soon Thangal Kunju Musaliar who is reported to have worked as Swaminathan’s bullock cart driver surpassed Swaminathan in the business by sheer acumen and hard work. I also faintly remember seeing Musaliar as the bullock cart driver during Lindsay’s time too.

However, I am not too sure about the foregoing, for Matthen makes it clear that TK Musaliar was a wealthy man and that he had teamed up with Musaliar and Swaminathan in acquiring the Kundara land, to corner the mineral deposits, in 1932. Thomas Austin the Dewan cleared it but later Sir CP as advisor to the Travancore government cancelled the license.

You may wonder why the term Cashew King is used– well, the price differential was much more than pepper and the profits huge, making these owners immensely rich and eventually powerful. But like always, kings were deposed, and new kings were crowned, and some kings like Musaliyar perhaps tired of the never-ending labor issues in his factories which employed over 30,000 workers, diversified into other areas. He set up many educational institutions such as the famous TKM Engineering College in 1956, among others, and became a famous name in Kerala.

Though very profitable for the owners, exporters, and buyers, the cashew units proved to be hell for the workers. The women and child workers did not have basic amenities, were overworked, were paid a pittance, were sexually harassed, and neither health nor safety at the workplace was taken care of. Even drinking water was a premium. The noxious fumes produced during roasting created many illnesses and the scarring and scalding of fingers of the women peeling cashews in primitive fashion were decried and all this proved to be the industry's undoing. Communism and red flags arrived, trade unions were formed, and agitations became the norm, pitting labor against the owner. The industry suffered, as workers fought for fundamental rights.

The business meanders on

This was the start of a rapidly growing $6.5 billion global business, as Cashews were touted as natural and healthy snacks and went on to become part of so many food products from nut bars to substitutes for butter, cream, and milk.

As India was becoming independent, things started to change in Travancore. Processing units became factories, regulations, legal minimum wages, and welfare schemes were imposed, and home processing was done away with. This resulted in cost increases, producers started to employ tactics like closing and converting units to seasonal temporary sheds, Others relocated just across the borderline, to Tamil Nadu. Eventually, many closed and the KSCDC was set up to bring some control and to procure raw nuts.

The decline

Nothing much happened in Quilon, between the 50’s and the turn of the 21^st century, as the business meandered on. To meet volumes, raw nuts were imported from Africa and reprocessed in Quilon. Open pan roasting processes gave way to drum roasting and some started to follow the oil bath process as CNSL or shell oil became popular. Steam boiling was also resorted to in some units. Molded Vacuum Packaging (MVP) took over from tinning, and many of the ladies gave way to a cheaper workforce from the NE. New Cashew Kings were proclaimed, and Quilon continued to somehow cling on to the roost.

Costs went up constantly, but the state government tried to stop or delay mechanization fearing job losses and trade union retaliation, as owners moved across the borders to establish mechanized units. Sad is the story of how Quilon which reigned supreme until the second decade of the 21^st century, dropped like a stone to number two with the sudden rise of Vietnam that took over half the global market share by setting up mechanized and automated plants, employing hardly any manpower (See the WSJ story and the video for further details).

Many more people in India eat Cashew than in the 30s when it was an ‘export only’ luxury, a time when pregnant women workers were punished for eating a cashew now and then! The soaring industry is now studied by experts for the lack of foresight and cohesive strategy, fervent trade unionism, uncontrolled costs, and perhaps, downright arrogance, while economists and human rights experts see it as the sorry tale of exploitation.

In America, cashews continue to reign supreme, roasted or unroasted, sometimes a mix from India, Africa, Vietnam, and Brazil. Though the quality of SE Asian, Brazilian, and African cashews is good, the Indian export is still rated quite high. Though the golden days are gone, the taste of the Quilon processed cashew remains supreme, …at least for now.

References
Travancore State Manual TK Velu Pillai

Experience and Identity: A Historical Account of Class, Caste, and Gender among the Cashew Workers of Kerala, 1930–2000 – Anna Lindberg

Modernization and Effeminization in India - Kerala Cashew Workers since 1930 - Anna Lindberg

The Cashew - PL Saroj, KRM Swamy

I Have Borne Much - CP Matthen

The history of trade union movement in Kerala – K Ramachandran Nair

Century in Malabar – Perce Leslie 1862-1962 – WKM Langley

Wall Street Journal ‘How Cashews Explain Globalization’ - Bill Spindle, Vibhuti Agarwal, WSJ Video  

In Quilon, Cashew Processing Pens its Plight - Ignatius Pereira

Trivia - You may not believe it, but during WWII, Cashew Shell Oil was used for subversive purposes by the British OSS Division 19, to sabotage German vehicles. This oil was one of the key ingredients in the so-called ‘Turtle egg’ a small rubber sack filled with CNSL or Cacolube and placed in the oil intake pipe of the vehicle. German technicians trying to fix the busted engine developed severe allergies!

Pics - Rector - Courtesy GF Maxwell House Special edition, others commerce weeklies

Related Maddys’ Ramblings articles (click to open)

Darragh, Smail – Coir

American Consulate - Alleppey

The story of a nut

TNQ Bank Saga

Travancore Monazite

CP, Monazite

 

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Mukesh – A Singer With a Timeless Voice

A Soulful Singer

Today is the great singer’s 101^st birth anniversary, he was born on 22^nd July 1923. He passed away in 1976, just 53 years old.

Without a doubt, he (or for that matter, his voice) has been a fellow traveler for the longest time in my life. In an era where Yesudas and Mohammed Rafi ruled the roost, i.e. in Kerala, I rooted for Mukesh. In the attic of our ancestral house at Pallavur, there used to be a few 78 rpm records, belonging to my uncle. Pehli Nazar, Anurag, and a few others, with Mukesh’s voice featured in them, lying around, collecting dust. It was only after I joined up for engineering that the music fever gripped me, and I started listening to Radio Ceylon and Vividbharati on my little Keltron transistor radio, during spare hours. I would painstakingly pen song lyrics in a notebook, after listening to the song (Hindi songbooks from up North had not yet reached Calicut), with many mistakes. The impetus boosting him to my favorite came after I read the book Mera Naam Joker and heard its songs. After that I listened to so many of Mukesh’s songs, committing them to memory, and belted them out in the bathroom, much to the annoyance of the others in the college hostel!

I have sung a couple of his songs just once, with my wife an accomplished singer, that was in Istanbul, at a program hosted by the Indian Consulate, where we sang a couple of Mukesh songs in tandem, the ones well-known to the people of Turkey – Awara Hoon and Mera Jootha hai Japani. Baris Manco, the late Turkish singer, and a friend of India was, if I recall right, present, and he used to sing Awara Hoon often during his shows.

It is not my intention to list here his great songs or go over their nuances. Nor will I attempt to detail his career chronologically, to figure out why he became one of the top three and remained there till his death.  Like many people before me have stated, he sang for the common man, he mirrored their sadness, ethos, pathos, heartbreaks, and depressive moods, during a period when India was in the dumps, especially in the 60’s and 70’s.

While many know the songs, the films, and the actors, very few know enough about the singer. Most will recall that Mukesh was Mukesh Chand Mathur, born in 1923, 6^th in the line of 10 children in a large Delhi household, a boy who was disinterested in studies – 10th class failed as his son Nitin puts it – and came to Bombay to make it big in films. It is said that he could only read and write in Urdu and penned his lyrics in Urdu all his life. As fate intervened, the great actor Motilal heard him sing Saigal songs at his sister’s wedding ceremony and gave him a stepping stone into the film industry. Eventually, the 17-year-old boy came to Bombay in 1940, tried to become a singer-actor in the film Nirdosh, failed miserably, and then settled down to establish himself as a singer. As he said in a BBC interview - it is better to become a first-class singer than a second-class actor. He struggled for quite a while in Bombay, working odd jobs - as a share broker, dry fruit seller, etc. before making it big. Though he continued to scout acting roles and acted sporadically until 1956, his first hit (mind you - not his first song, which was Dil hi Bhuja – Nirdosh 1941) as a singer was for Pehli Nazar in 1945, singing for Motilal.

Around 1945, he met, fell in love, and eloped with a wealthy Gujarati girl - Sarla Trivedi, when he was just 23, as her parents were against the union, Mukesh being quite penniless then. It was actor Motilal who helped him, and Neil, his son adds - Mukesh was a strict nonvegetarian who enjoyed his Johnnie walker, while Sarla would not touch nonveg, or for that matter anything grown underground!

Becoming popular, he was initially actor Dileep Kumar’s voice, delivering many hits in Andaz, Madhumati, etc., and as Dileep drifted towards Mohammed Rafi, Mukesh was discovered by Raj Kapoor. Even more great hits followed and then came the connections with Manoj Kumar continuing the hit parade.

Let us now check his collaboration with the many heroes, producers, and music directors and catch some trivia as we travel alongside Mukesh’s 53-year life. Unlike some of the other singers or actors of that time, he was meticulously dressed, and suave, almost always photographed wearing a well-tailored suit.

Mukesh imitated Saigal to start with, and he agreed it was his forte. Dil Jalta Hai was not going to be included in the film but was retained only after people flocked to the theatres because of the song. Saigal it is said (I don’t feel this is true) wondered when he had sung the song, after hearing it at first! Teri duniya mein dil lagta nahin (Bawre Nein) was another song sung in the Saigal style. Lata Mangeshkar mentions that Saigal gifted him his harmonium, a gift that Mukesh treasured all his life.  I am not sure if that was the instrument, which a fan stole and installed in his home, as an object of worship! Lore has it that Mukesh tracked him down and got it back!

Music directors

Anil Biswas was the music director who groomed the young singer who reached his brother-in-law’s doorsteps in Bombay. As the story goes, the producer Mazhar Khan would not allow a newcomer to sing. But after Anil pleaded, Mazhar acceded, only for Biswas to see that Mukesh developed cold feet at the last minute and slunk away to a bar, to drink and play cards. As the story goes, he was pulled into the studios and sobered up. Mukesh ended up singing the glorious DIl Jalta hain, to Jalne de (Pehli Nazar). Biswas later had to work hard to wean him away from the Saigal style and had him deliver many more hits, under his baton.

SD Burman – Strange is the fact that even though they collaborated sporadically, many of those songs became great hits. Songs like Chal ree sajni, O Janewale ho sake to (Bandini) are examples, but SD did not have much of an opinion about Mukesh and used him mainly for background songs. In an interview with Raju Bharatan, SDB said - ‘Talat’s no good as a singer, Mukesh is worse!’. When called to sing for Bombay Ka Babu, in 1960, SD seemingly said - “Look, Mukesh, I can’t promise that I would retain your voice in Chal ree sajnee. If after the rehearsal, in the final take, I find your rendition to be unsatisfactory, I retain the right to scrap the song!” Mukesh’s response: “But you always have that right, Dada. All I know is that you have called me to sing again for you after some 12 years, so trust me to put in my best. After that, as the song’s composer, it’s your privilege to retain or reject me.” It turned out to be a wonderful song. See a soulful live version.

Ravi Shankar characterized Mukesh’s singing style as - so straight and linear that the sporadic use of alankaars (subtle variations) magnified the beauty of his singing manifold. The song Hiya Jarat Rahet Din Rain (Godaan – Raaj Kumar 1963), which he sang for Ravi Shankar is quite interesting.

RD Burman also used him rarely, like his father, but came up with even more hits. Two songs spring to the fore, Ek din bik jayega (Dharam Karam) and Suhani Chandini raten (Mukti), not to forget Jis gali mein (Kati Patang). Nateeja Hamari (Puraskar) is unique, Asha’s voice sounds so different, while the dance looks kind of silly! Kahin Karti Hogi Woh Mera Intezaar (Phir Kabhi milogi) is soulful, and there is the ever-popular Lalla lalla lori (Mukti)…See Ek din bik jayega being rendered live.

Salil Chaudhri created fantastic songs for Mukesh, he was Salil’s favorite singer, boosting the latter’s career often, be it the glorious Kahi door jab (Anand), Suhana Safar (Madhumati), Zindagi Khwab he (Jagte Raho), Nain Hamare (Annadata), Ye din kya aya (Choti si Baat) or Kayi Baar yuhi (Rajni Gandha).  Salilda said once - Each word from his lips was a pearl. No one could sing the way Mukesh did, with the right diction, inflection, and intonation. His vocal timbre was out of this world. Almost every song I composed to capitalize on this timbre was an instant draw.

Initially, I thought of Hemant Kumar as Dilip Kumar’s playback for “Suhana Safar” in ‘Madhumati’. But Shailendra persuaded me that Mukesh suited Dilip Kumar no less than he did Raj Kapoor. The moment I recorded Suhana Safar, I knew Mukesh’s vocals had captured the spirit of that verdant setting in ‘Madhumati’. In later years, Mukesh brought a rare depth of expression to my “Kahin door jab din dhal jaaye” I still feel, ranks as my best for Mukesh.

He added - I like all the others. Manna Dey is a classical singer with a vast range. Listen to his song Aye Mere Pyare Watan from Kabuliwala (1960). Mukesh was my favorite and though his octave range was limited, he could sing with a mood and pathos that was unique. See a clip with Salilda directing Mukesh on stage.

Kai baar yuhi, was the song that got Mukesh a national award, interestingly it was offered to him since he wanted only a token amount of Rs 1,000/- for it while Lata would have cost Basu Chatterji 3,000/-! The gem Yeh din kya aya was done for Salilda, free of charge!

Roshan too had a great number of hits from Mukesh. Teri Duniya mein & Khayalon mein kisi (Bawre Nein) were notable numbers, Bahut diya Denewale (Soorat aur Seerat), Aya hai mujhe pyar (Devar), Apni Nazar se (Hum Log), Bade arman se (Malhar). The duo came up with so many great songs.

Shankar Jaikishan was the duo that teamed up on so many films with Mukesh and created many a wonderful hit. Virtually every film they did, had Mukesh singing and delivering hits. There are too many to name, but the songs from Mera Naam Joker, Sangam, Shree 420, Anari, Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti hai, Yehudi, etc. are examples. Shankar told Raju Bharatan that at times Mukesh could be so besura (out of tune) forcing him to leave the recording studio. He would ask his assistant Dattaram to coach Mukesh and would get back to the studio only after Mukesh got it right. He added that after a few rehearsals, the final recording would be fabulous!

Kalyanji Anandji was the other team that often used Mukesh in their films, and Kalyanji had no hesitation to admit that Mukesh had been their ladder to success and recognition in the '60s. The list of hits is long, and songs like Dewaano se yeh mat poocho (Upkar), Chandi ki Deewar (Viswas), Dum Dum diga (Chalia), Hum Chod Chale (jee chahta hai), Jo Tum ko (Safar), Koi jab tumhara (Purab aur Paschim), Chandan sa badan (Saraswati Chandra) stand out as great creations.

Khayyam remembers him as a perfectionist who would rehearse a song for long hours. "We will record only when you are satisfied, he told me during the recordings of Raj Kapoor’s Phir subah hogi”. Woh Subah Kabhi to Aayegi sung by Mukesh and Asha Bhosle, is an interesting number and of course, the songs from Kabi Kabhi, which most would easily recall, are marvelous. See it performed, live on stage

Lakshmikant Pyarelal also worked on many a film with Mukesh, delivering super hits such as Ram kare aisa (Milan), Ek pyar ka nagma hai (Shor), Maina bhooloonga, Jot se jot (Sant Gyaneshwar), Tum bin Jeevan (Anita), Sawan ka mahina (Milan), Chanchal sheetal (Satyam Sivam Sundaram), Tan man dhan (manchali). Interestingly you can even hear a Tamil bit in his Kuncham Kuncham song (Immaan Dharam) for Shashi Kapoor.

He did get miffed a few times, to lash out, a rarity in his career. He was upset with Naushad and S. D. Burman after they stopped giving him songs.  ‘I just don’t want to talk about the recording promises these and other music directors made and never kept, opting for a fellow performer when each and every song I had sung for them, till then, had been a top hit’. He then drifted away to make his film Anuraag, which did not work out too well, though it had a couple of great songs tuned by him, Kise yaad rakhun standing out!

Actors

Raj Kapoor started to work with Mukesh in 1948, in Aah, and you can see Mukesh even acting as the tonga driver singing the song  Choti si yeh zindagani. Barsat cemented their relationship and so many hit films and songs followed. Soon, they became soul mates, Mukesh being Raj Kapoor’s inseparable voice, even though a few others like Manna Dey intruded at times, to create lovely hits. Rak Kapoor would never call him Mukesh, but preferred to call him as he was named, Mukesh Chand, and mentioned that Mukesh was forever bright, chirpy, and jovial, coming up with spontaneous wisecracks, and always brightening up any room. There are odd bits of Raj Kapoor singing in his voice on YouTube (he plays the piano as well), and you will upon hearing them understand how uncannily it resembles Mukesh’s voice! In Moscow, he introduces Mukesh to those who always believed Raj Kapoor sang his songs.

Whenever he became moody or upset, Raj says he would call Mukesh and they talked for hours and sometimes, he would hop over to chat and help him sort things out. He according to Raj Kapoor, stayed out of politics or other people’s business and never wished ill of anyone, forever the good Samaritan of the industry. Mukesh, nevertheless, kept his worries to himself, simply saying everything was first class or top of the world! Just before he left for his final tour to Canada and the USA in 1976, he insisted on finishing the song Chanchal Sheetal, even though it had not been scheduled. Perhaps he knew what was fated, and Raj says he left behind the unopened bottle of King of Kings whiskey, for the team, to be finished later.

Raj Kapoor said - When Shailendra left us, I felt I’d lost one arm; when Jaikishen passed away I lost another. But when Mukesh passed away, meri jaan hi chali gayi (I lost my life). I am the body; my soul was Mukesh.” He added - There was Mukesh-my soul, my voice, I was a mere body. It was he who sang to the hearts of the people all over the world, not me. Raj Kapoor was an image, just a carcass of flesh and bones. When he died, it was destroyed. I felt, there goes my breath, there goes my soul. I know what went away from me. There was a void, a vacuum and then I had to get over it and go on. This is the price an artist pays. Were it not for the voices of Lata Mangeshkar and Mukesh, what would my cinema be?'

Manoj Kumar who had a long association with Mukesh, adds, “Most of my sad songs were sung by Mukesh. No one could match him in the tragic songs. My own favorite is ‘Koi Jab Tumhara Hriday Tod De’ from Purab Aur Paschim. ‘Ek Pyar Ka Nagma Hai’ from my film Shor is Mukesh’s signature tune. One thing about Mukesh: his songs were his only. The songs sung by Mukesh could not be sung by any other singer. The songs that were composed for Mukesh were meant only for him.”

Manoj Kumar agrees that Mukesh was unfairly ‘mike-cast’ to sing heartbreak songs. “He sang some mischievous songs for me in Sanyasi and Dus Numbri. Those were big hits too. But somehow, he is remembered more by the sad songs,”.

Feroze Khan used Mukesh often. The songs from Dharmatma and Upasana are all classics today.

Rajesh Khanna too had Mukesh hits - Kahin door jab and Mein ne tere liye (Anand) as well the songs in Maryada are examples.

Jitendra on the other hand, can boast of the popular Yeh kaun chitrkar, Chandi ki deevar, Do kadam tum na chale, Hum to tere, and many more.

Dilip Kumar of course had many songs sung by Mukesh – Suhana Safar, Tu Kahe Agar, Yeh mere diwanapan hai, Gaye ja geet milan, Dil tadap tadap, Jhoom Jhoom ke nacho….are just a few!

Stray gems include Ansoo Bharai hain (Dattaram), Chal Akela (OP Nayyar), Zinda hun is tarah, Aa laut ki aja, Bhuli hui, Saranga, Haa diwana hu main, which are all numbers which add up to the long list of hits which made him one of the three greats Kishore, Rafi and Mukesh! The list goes on, but I must stop somewhere…

Pakistan’s late former prime minister Benazir Bhutto found Mukesh's voice quite appealing.  It is said that for months on end, she listened to Mukesh in her car, presumably to ease her work pressures.

The Mystique of Awara Hoon - When China’s Zhou En Lai came to India, he wanted to hear Awara Hoon live, but Talat and Geeta Dutt who graced the occasion did not know the words, so sang the first two or three lines over and over for a while. It is even rumored that Mao Tse Tung used to love the film Awara and the song Awara Hoon. In Turkey, one can listen to the Turkish Awara Nuu, as well as remixed versions of the original song. I will write about this separately.

Mukesh passed away in Detroit while on tour with Lata Mangeshkar, on 22^nd Aug 1976. I was in college then and I recall being quite upset, and later picking up the double LP album at Balu’s. See a video from the concert.

Strangely, people talked about purity of voice then, as the Bollywood industry had already made a switch, from heavy and deep female voices like Noorjahan to sharp and shriller tones of Lata and team, which set the standard for decades. Only recently has the Punjabi voice started its trip back and during the interim, there was only Usha Uthup with a booming voice amidst the sharper voices.

Mukesh was considered to be technically inferior with many slips and besur’s in his songs, compared to the Mannadey, Kishore, and Rafi, but he held his fort, while his nasal tone, and the feeling he conveyed, simply found its way directly into your hearts. His song ended up as an Aam Admi’s song, something one could relate to, warts and all. Singers like Manhar, Salma Agha, and Kumar Sanu continued the nasal trend and comments about such inferior tones eventually disappeared.

Listening to him, you hear chaste Urdu diction, not the usual movie star Bombay Hindi. A lovely interview at BBC and another more detailed one.

Lata Mangeshkar was perhaps closest to him – She says that even though senior, Mukesh called her Didi. She first met him in 1947 and almost immediately struck a chord. Mukesh was much senior to her - both in age as well as profession, he insisted on calling her 'didi' (elder sister). Nitin Mukesh mentions that his father called her Didi so that the coming generations understand that you can't call a legend by her name! But Lata says - "There was no particular reason for this. Everyone one in my family used to call me didi. So, he also took it up. But it's amazing that he never addressed me as 'Lata' till the end," she said. They had this special bond and both revered Saigal, both wanted to be actors and went on to do several stage shows.  Lata felt that Mukesh was never given complex songs. In a Hindustan Times interview, she said - "The problem is that Mukesh bhaiyya was never tried for complex and classically oriented songs because of stereotyping. It is not that he did not have the capability," Lata observed. But very few recognized Mukesh bhaiyya for his classical background," she said. "I cannot say with full authority. But I feel he (Mukesh) could have sung complex songs too if given a chance because I know he used to do regular riyaz (practice) along with his son Nitin, under a teacher,"

References

A Journey Down Melody Lane Hay House -Bharatan, Raju. Kindle Edition.

(Awara Hoon – Turkish version) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwL29HYiCBk

Awara Hoon – Five versions

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