we are perplexed, but not in despair;
Persecuted, but not forsaken;
cast down, but not destroyed;..."
II Corinthinians 4:8-9
There is a particularly large Tamil population amongst its 40 million inhabitants. Monday, April 13 was, therefore, to be a holiday to celebrate Tamil New Year's Day. The following Friday was Good Friday, also a holiday. Good Friday is one of the few Christian holidays that have been accepted among the 13 Indian National Holidays rather than just a holiday for the 20 million Roman Catholics, Protestant and indigenous Syrian Orthodox Christian communities scattered around this large secular country. Hence many institutions, including the courts, universities and schools, were closed till after Easter on April 19. This gave our children the prospect of a fun-filled holiday week.
My husband, Jacob, had just returned from work and was enjoying a cup of coffee. He was his usual bright self asking about the goings-on of the day. We were temporarily staying with his parents in their lovely, spacious five-bedroomed modern home in an old green suburb of Bangalore, Basavangudi.
Karnataka is the resident State for the Matthan family. Jacob's grandfather, Mr. Kuriyan Matthan (I) although a Malayalee from the Travancore/Cochin region in south-west India, now part of the Kerala, had been the First Member of the Privy Council of the princely State of Mysore, now known as Karnataka. Before India's Independence in 1947 this was a post appointed by the Maharaja of the State. Mr. Matthan had also been conferred with the title of Dewan Bahadur. Dewan Bahadur Matthan had been especially liked by the Maharaja because of his quiet diplomacy and administrative skills.
One incident narrated to us by Jacob's grandmother a few years before her death, 20 years after the death of her husband, typifies his life of service and dedication. When the late Sir Viswesvaraya, the eminent scientist and engineer, was the Dewan of the State of Mysore, he drew up plans to build the now renowned Krishnasagar Dam. He had completed the design and had planned to commence building the dam immediately. Mr. Kuriyan Matthan, then an officer in the administration had objected vehemently to the undue haste to implement these plans. Great scientist as he was reputed to be, Sir Viswesvaraya was adamant and angry that anyone had dared to oppose his decisions. Without looking into the merits of the objections he ordered that this junior adversary be transferred away from the then capital, Mysore, with immediate effect. Mr. Matthan made no public objection. He quietly packed his belongings and made ready to move with his large family. Before leaving, however, it was customary to seek audience with the Maharaja to bid farewell.
The Maharaja was curious to know the reason why one of the officers that he liked was moving away from the capital. Although reluctant to speak out, Mr. Matthan was forced to disclose his reasons. He told the Maharaja that he had opposed the haste to construct the dam. The Maharaja, known for his wisdom, could not understand this. He knew, as everyone else did, that there would be untold benefits for the whole of his kingdom after the completion of this project. Mr. Matthan then clarified that his objection was not to the dam but the headlong rush to construct it. He told the Maharaja that several thousands of people would have to be resettled from the lands that would be inundated. New lands which were acceptable to them would have to be found first. This was something that needed time and thought and the cooperation of the people instead of a hurried eviction of those affected.
On hearing this the Maharaja cancelled the transfer orders and gave Mr. Matthan the responsibility for these tasks. To this day, as a result the Matthan family is well-known and respected. The picture of the late Dewan Bahadur Matthan adorns the walls of several institutions which he had skilfully administered.
Basavangudi had been the suburb adopted by the Matthan family after Dewan Bahadur Matthan's retirement. A large mansion, which had been the family home but was now a kindergarten school, stood on the opposite side of the park near to the home of Jacob's parents. The house next door to Jacob's parents belonged to Jacob's father's brother, immediately younger to him. That house still had its original appearance not having been modernised as this one was. Even so, it displayed character and the garden was as lovely as this one. Before his death in 1950 Jacob's grandfather had personally supervised the construction of modest houses, including these two, for some of his ten children.
This lazy Saturday afternoon in 1981 I was busy upstairs doing some household chores. Our four children were playing: the elder two, Susanna and Jaakko, in the living room listening to music and the other two, Joanna and Mika, out in the garden. Jacob, his parents, and Jacob's nephew, Ashok, were relaxing downstairs in the cosy alcove under the staircase. This small area, which was the centre for all movement through the house, was the setting for the telephone and three cane chairs as well as a couple of stools. It was the focal point of the house, the large sitting room and the dining room being only used at specific times and occasions, or when there were more than six adults in conference.
Jacob had an official engagement in the evening and was planning to get ready for the occasion. Suddenly there was a banging on the iron gates of the house at the top of the garden. The Alsation dog, Tippu, was growling as it knew that strangers had arrived. Friends would walk in through the gate without ringing the bell. Others who were scared of the dog would ring the bell. These were certainly strangers.
Within minutes someone called out to me to say that there were police officers outside the gate waiting to see me. I was startled and surprised. I tried to pluck up enough strength to face this strange situation. I was seized by sudden fear. Not recalling any cause for their presence, my body seemed as if it was paralysed. My legs felt like lead and did not want to obey my orders to go down to meet these visitors.
They were waiting on the other side of the gate in the long cemented private driveway leading from the road to the house. Tippu was growling and barking at them sensing that they had come for no good purpose. The atmosphere in the whole house had changed dramatically. The children were alarmed. Everyone was bewildered as to the reason for this intrusion. Jacob was the first to bring his actions and thoughts under control. Silently I walked alongside with him to the gate. He opened the black iron gate and let us out.
There were two police officers with their black plastic name tags pinned to their uniforms, a man, Sub-Inspector V. Natarajan, and a woman, Sub-Inspector Siddamaa. They did not waste much time and came straight to the point. They said that they had orders to arrest me under the Foreigners Act. They wanted me to go with them to the Basavangudi Police Station, which was just a block away from the house.
This was sensational news - a Matthan was about to be arrested in Bangalore - and it was me, Rauha Annikki Matthan, née Reinikka, from the small, almost Arctic town of Oulu in Finland!