Mairey (Pubic Hair)

“Mairey!...” ... “Mairey!!...” and a cacophonic ugly loud chorus of “Mairey!!!...” of the group reverberates as I write this memoir.

The eco of the word “Mairey” still sounds vividly.

Mairey in Malayalam means pubic hair. Probably, a singular pubic hair.

No, the animated group of students were not vociferously discussing Michelangelo's depiction of David, complete with meticulously sculpted pubic hairs frozen in stone. Nor were they directing acute attention to Gustav Courbet's portrayal of pubic hairs in his painting 'L'Origine du Monde.' Their colloquy omitted any nuanced exploration of the intricate interplay between pubic hair and human sensuality.

Betty Beauty’s products with the tagline “Color the Hair Down There” were not yet launched. Briefs tugging woman model was yet to expose pubic hair shaved in the shape of Gucci’s logo. Emma Watson, former Harry Potter star, had not yet mentioned she used fur oil to groom pubic hair. What was this commotion all around?

Instead, the group wielded pubic hair as a disparaging epithet, propelling it my way with manifest intent to depreciate and scorn. Hurled at me in the guise with an intention to demean and trivialize. Absolutely inconsequential. Worthless. Insignificant. I was not sure about the gender original owner of “Mairey” that was being attributed to me. Both men and women are blessed with pubic hair. Yet, pubic hair of both genders are treated differently in art and in popular culture. The women pubic hair is not only worthless but also dirty and impure in social scientists’ imagination. Writing on “taboo of female body hair” Anne Smelik mentions female body hair as “abject.” Unlike male pubic hair female pubic hair covers an orifice that ejects body fluid and therefore, by Mary Douglas’ framework of “purity and pollution,” female pubic hairs are polluted.

To further understand the gender of pubic hair I conducted a small experiment. I typed 'pubic hair' on Google and searched images. The Google returned plenty of images containing pubic hair either on body or as a independent sketches but interestingly a large, very large majority of pubic hair images were of woman. Does it proves pubic hair that is popularly used as a an abusive word is a female pubic hair?

I was aware and conscious of the insignificance of pubic hair in the Hindi heartland of India for prolific public usage of pubic hair with the word “jhant.” This incident of “Mairey” hurling abuses furthered how insignificance attached to pubic hair transcends geographical and cultural boundaries in India. The tone of their voices carried an undertone of threat, pregnant with the looming likelihood of impending bodily harm.

It was afternoon. I was in F' hostel. I had come for a stroll after consuming two 25 paisa peanut jaggery chikki and a cup of lemon tea in the Mini Canteen. I was residing in E Hostel. After entering inside F' hostel, I hardly took 50 steps anti-clockwise in the open verandah of single seated rooms around a central courtyard, I heard a group of students shouting from my left hand side. All of a sudden the group of Malayali students led by the local SFI leader surrounded me. Group of students, largely in mundu, some in trousers and one or two in orange colored mundu. SFI members wore white mundu. NSUI members preferred either trousers or lungi over mundu. RSS members wore orange colored cotton mundu. Students of all the intensely competing political formations were together. All of them were against me. I was alone, singular and isolated.

“Poda Mairey...” ... “Addi”... “Patti” ... “Mairey”... and , a barrage of “Mairey”...

The dictionary of abuses was varied and multiple but I remember only these four Malyalam words as I hear reverberations around me. Poda means to ‘get lost’. Addi is to ‘physically assault.’ Patti means ‘dog.’ I have already explained in detail about the most vocal fourth word.

$#!esh @ % was the leader of SFI. He was well built, slightly plumpy with a gentle protruding abdomen, and wore a beard. He was in M Tech but his political catchment was B Tech as almost 80% -90% of the M Tech students at REC Calicut consisted of Telugu speaking students, who were politically inactive. Their number was also less compared to B Tech. The cleavage between B Tech and M Tech students was clear and distinct. D hostel was for M Tech students , and all other hostels, A, B C, E and F were for the B Tech students. $#!esh @ % started shouting at me and students following him were also hurling abuses. Some were making gestures to hit me, clenched fists were being exhibited from a distance, directed at me. Some were pushing someone from the crowd towards me. Some were purposefully trying to fall at me feigning being pushed or got imbalanced. With raised hands and tight fists, a few came as close as one foot near me. There was a cacophony and cat calls. Provocations. Chaos. I did not budge. I stood still. Unnerved. I did not move even a fraction of an inch. I was standing still on the cement colored floor finish with red colored skirting of the verandah. The singular and lonely coconut tree inside the courtyard stood still. All the brown colored double leaf doors of the rooms remained closed. Nobody came out. It was between me and the combined group of SFI, NSUI and RSS members.

F hostel was the newest hostel and it was considered North Indian and NIMA - North Indian Malayali Association – Malayalis who came from the non-Kerala state quota- hostel. It was a hostel renowned for its jubilant spirit and revelry. Its design featured a vast courtyard encircled by single-row rooms, each welcoming and perpetually open. They were all just a shout away from one another, aptly referred to as 'gaonwalon'—villagers, by the hostel's residents.

All rooms remained open all the time. Day night cricket was very popular. Honestly, tennis ball cricket was a 24X7 phenomenon in F Hostel. Cricket was not a sport in F Hostel, it was a lifeline. Booze was only Mahe away. North Indians were yet to develop a taste for the omnipresent Kall – a smelly white translucent local brew of Kerala. Big music decks purchased from Kapad beach market played hard metal and rock. Some of the rooms doubled as local radio stations, boasting an extensive collection of magnetic tape cassettes. They were more than willing to oblige song requests; obviously at full volume. The walls of many rooms were rendered invisible beneath layers of black, thick paper, adorned with an array of posters. Some opted for portraits while others constructed intricate collages.

The walls and ceilings became canvases for striking, glossy posters, capturing the titillating allure of Samantha Fox and Bo Derek. For the more discerning connoisseurs of sensuality, Debonair posters lined the spaces—endless arrays of nudes, where 'nudity' was the ultimate aesthetic. F Hostel symbolized more than freedom and revelry; it was the epitome of bohemian living. The coolest souls found their abode within its spirited confines, while the more studious ones opted for quieter lodgings.

F-Hostel gracefully unfolded into two informal yet distinct domains—F-Main and F-Dash (F’). The former, a three-storied abode, served as an epitome of the quintessential F-Hostel ethos. On the campus, each hostel was endowed with its mess, but F-Hostel stood apart with its unique arrangement. Positioned at its heart was a canteen, cleverly cleaving F-Hostel into F-Main on its right flank and F-Dash on its left.

A splendid T-shaped elevated connector walkway linked the first floor of F-Main, the ground floor of F-Dash (or F’), and the beckoning single floor canteen. The upper arm of this 'T' , at an elevated level, forged the connection between the two wings of the F hostel, while the vertical axis of the “T” led to the cherished canteen. The canteen food was costly and available only by buying pre-paid coupons. Unlike other hostels’ mess there was no monthly mess bill for the F hostel inmates. There was also no system of monthly fixed charges for mess. There was a complete freedom. However, it followed a pre-paid system. Every meal was purchased a la carte. No beef was served in the canteen. The food was considered the best North Indian food available in the campus. It was an anticipated compulsory destination for the girl students during the pass out parade day; the one and only day girls were allowed inside the boy’s hostel.

Residing in F-Hostel carried with it a certain prestige. It was akin to a symbolic rite of passage, marking the transition from youth to adulthood. Meanwhile, F’, a two-story abode due to variances in contour elevation, bore the mantle of an understated counterpart to F-Main.

I was a resident of E-Hostel in the fifth semester. It was one of the oldest hostels of the REC, located by the side of the boundary wall adjoining enchanting Katangal. My room was on the third floor at the extreme end of the REC campus. Katangal was visible from my room. I regularly heard the sound of blasting coming from the local granite quarries. The dialogues from Dhanya theatre in Katangal was also audible during the night. As the sun's first rays kissed the day, the melodious strains of M. S. Subbulakshmi singing the 'Subh Prabhatam' from a nearby temple would permeate the surroundings, filling the air with a divine ambiance.

The E hostel walls bore green patches of algae. The gallery between the rows of rooms was dark. The haunting howls of village dogs from nearby settlements added an eerie quality to the nocturnal atmosphere. To keep myself alive and kicking I regularly played Begum Akhtar ji on my red colored triangular Sony Walkman in the late night. It was my only companion to ward off fear of the spirits. The washrooms were poorly lit and it was a scary project to visit those dark haunting washrooms at night. I preferred to use washrooms on the lower floors at night.

I was only non-Malayali on the top floor of the “I” shaped, in ground plan, E hostel. The top horizontal line of “I” was closest to Katangal, in the direction towards Mukkam. There were four single seated rooms each on both sides of vertical line that intersects the top horizontal line of “I”. On the left hand side of the horizontal line of “I” as you face Mukkam contained washrooms . My room was on the opposite side of the washrooms. It was the last room in the flank. Isolated. There were stories of spirit and ghosts of dead students. Nearby cremation ground furthered the spirit and ghost stories. Other rooms of my flank were locked.

My friends were residents of F '. It was around 4-5PM and I came to F ' meet them. There was a mini-canteen in front of E-hostel and adjoining F ' hostel. From the mini-canteen there was a direct access to F ' hostel through a pathway by side of the rooms with windows facing the main road connecting E hostel to the academic area. Otherwise the entrance to F' hostel was through a ramp made of rubble masonry. From outside, there was only one entrance into F’ hostel. The other entrance was the connecting corridor between F-Main and F’ hostel. The entrance of F’ hostel was at the corner of the building, diagonal corner of a square, in opposite side of the canteen side, along with staircase room with mumty. On the exact opposite end of this diagonal was a complex of washrooms, providing essential facilities for the residents. Meanwhile, another washroom complex existed in alignment with the entrance, positioned on the same line and in close proximity to the entrance of the canteen.

I entered inside F’ hostel, crossed the staircase room and I was walking in the verandah of the ground floor; anti-clockwise. F' residents were considered studious and most of the rooms were closed. All of a sudden I noticed $#!esh @ % along with a group of Malayali students entering inside F’ hostel through the same entrance. I do not know whether they were following my movement. I did see a group of students on the road between D hostel and F hostel while I was walking from the Mini Canteen towards the F' hostel entrance but I overlooked it. I was completely unaware of their move. Shouting and sloganeering, they entered inside F’ hostel after me and started walking briskly towards me cutting across the sunken courtyard diagonally.

The verandah walkway was around 2-3 feet above red colored laterite soil courtyard. After the annular sunken portion of the courtyard there was an elevated area within the courtyard surrounded by random rubble masonry retaining wall of two feet height filled with red soil. This area remained stark and barren, with only a solitary coconut tree gracing its presence on the corner closest to my location.

By the time I heard slogans and noticed the group approaching me I had already covered one segment of the square and was almost in the middle of the side perpendicular to the first segment of the square. Their mundu was hanging till their knees. Some of them were lifting mundu up, which indicates preparedness for aggressive behavior. Something similar to rolling up of sleeves by North Indians as a mark of aggression.

“I will not allow you to get a degree. You do not know me. The clerks of Calicut University are my party cadres,” shouted $#!esh @ % in English. He was barely 10 feet away from me. It was only sentences I understood and it still reverberates in my ears.

$#!esh @ % did his best to recruit me in SFI. “Your views are very close to ours,” he once spoke, exuding the utmost courtesy. He employed persuasion and cajolement, engaging in spirited debates on a myriad of topics during my second year. Our discussions were always friendly, and he'd invariably extend a handshake as he departed from my room. He ventured into my room unannounced on multiple occasions, dedicating numerous hours to convert me to his party ideology. Despite his efforts, I remained steadfast in my ideological agnosticism, unswayed by his overtures.

$#!esh @ % stopped all of a sudden. Around 40, maybe between 40-45, students following him also stopped. Some more Malayali students were still entering inside the F’ hostel. I do not know how many of them were standing outside the F’ as reinforcement. The group already inside the F’ hostel were shouting abuses in their native Malayalam language, and I can still vividly recall the fervor of those students, their spirited "mairey" calls echoing. Notably, some of these individuals have since migrated and established their lives abroad, outside of India, many in USA. Interestingly, a few of them are or were even included in my Facebook friend list.

“You may do whatever you can. I do not care,” I said and stood on the verandah. Unfazed. Unmoved. Without an iota of fear. Only and only time I spoke to $#!esh @ % during the entire episode.

I was in fifth semester. Ever since first year, I was actively involved in protests to get university examinations conducted on time. When I took admission the batches were late by two years. Five students were provided with three beds in one room. There was a dearth of rooms and beds as two additional batches were on campus. Later, double story bunk beds were arranged by the hostel authorities. Two bunk beds and one normal wooden cot was provided in every room.

Similar to previous semesters, I was actively involved in the fast unto death agitation for the fifth semester examination. The success of fast unto death for the first year examination made fast unto death agitation in the Calicut University verandah a regular feature. I recall meeting with the Vice-Chancellor to get the examination conducted on time. In the fifth semester, the University agreed to conduct a separate examination only for REC Calicut.

The other three engineering colleges, Thrissur, Palghat and Kannanore under Calicut University were not keen on timely examination. During every examination they collectively went to Calicut University in large numbers and got examinations postponed for some reason or other. In the history of Calicut University they met their nemesis in “For Examination” movement.

Fifth semester was also different in many ways. First year success had enthused our immediate seniors too. Previously, they were either piggy riding on our efforts. When we started the “For Examination” movement in the first year they warned and cautioned us. “Do not get into this. You do not know about the brutality of the local police. Kerala police is notorious for custodial deaths. You might have heard about Rajan’s case.” The immediate seniors were in the seventh semester. The first batch to complete the four years course on time.

As the examination date was coming closer the rumor mongering commenced. “How can there be two examinations in one University? It is not possible as University cannot offer two gold medals for the same course. Two examinations means two separate evaluations of the same course.” A group of students started disseminating the “one course one gold medal” theory. It was repeated day in and day out. I noticed students in small groups discussing same issue again and again. The roads around hostels were full of small groups of student. The members of the groups kept changing the groups. However, the topic of discussion was the only constant. The intensity and duration of discussion increased as examination date approached. The North Indians believed the rumor mongers. The immediate junior batch of the North Indians was against the “For Examination” group since very beginning for reasons best known to them.

The Malayalis of my batch were already in no mood to write examinations. They were more close to students of the other three engineering colleges for political and other reasons. A large majority of them perceived the “For Examination” agitation as a North Indian movement. Then, there was an informal group of “Back Paper Students Association” who were not encouraged by the idea of timely examination. The said group consisted of both Malyali and non-Malayali students. A majority of them were already carrying back papers in double figures. This informal “Back Paper Students Association” agitated against the agenda of the Senate, Calicut University to amend the back papers rules. According to the rules every student was eligible to complete the course without passing in a single paper.

I was alone. Those who sat with me on fast unto death started avoiding me. Some of them asked me to be practical. They mentioned University cannot overlook demand of so many students. They even mentioned that the second examination would be the main examination and this examination will be cancelled by the University. I was unmoved, “How can one even think of boycotting examinations? I participated in the fast unto death agitation for timely examination. No, I will appear for the examinations at any cost. I will walk the talk even if I have to do it singularly.” I remained unwavering and unflinchingly committed to my conviction.

Two days before the examination I started feeling scared. What if somebody locks my room from the outside? I was alone and my room was isolated. What if someone physically stops me from reaching the examination hall? I was solitary. Even my friends were upset with me on my decision to write the examination.

During the day I studied in the reading room of the library. Entire day. In between I went to the hostel mess only for food. In the night, after dinner, I studied entire night. I put a lock in the handle after pulling out the latch so that locking of the room from outside was impossible. My only fear was of being physically stopped. I feared the examination admit card being snatched and torn. I concealed it in my long kurta. A faded old light blue Pepe jeans trousers and motley green Khadi Kurta was my regular dress in those days.

While returning from the library for dinner I saw all the students outside on the road. I never joined any group. Not even once. There were two junior batches. The immediate juniors were upset with me. I was perceived as too ‘idealistic’ to be of any value. The seniors with a library of Mastram and Human Digest were valued. The seniors with a wardrobe overflowing with Mahe liquor bottles were valued. The immediate junior batch was on the forefront to boycott the examination.

The day following sloganeering, howling, caterwauling and abuse hurling day was an examination day. I left from my E hostel room early. Very early. It was a departure that defied the pattern of previous semesters. In the past, I had often found myself entering the examination room at the eleventh hour, just as the question papers were being distributed. Running. Casual. Nervous with every empirical Engineering equation leaving my mind with every step close to the examination hall. The first thing I did after receiving answer sheets was to quickly write the long empirical formulas on the last page and marked it as rough sheet.

Solitary and undeterred, I walked on the deserted road to the main building. The examination hall was on the top floor. Through the windows of nearby hostel, I could feel the watchful gaze of friends, foes, and opponents alike. Some stared brazenly, making no attempt to conceal their interest, while others observed furtively. The air was filled silence disturbed by intermittent cacophony of wailing noises and name-calling, yet I remained resolute, moving forward with unwavering determination.

Unyielding. Unhesitatingly. Unwavered. I walked with upright posture from the hostel to the main building of the REC Calicut holding yellow colored Camel instruments box in my right hand. I was only person walking on the road.

My batch mates boycotted the examination. The junior batch too boycotted the examination. Only five students from the Civil Engineering stream appeared for the examination. I remember names of all the four Civil Engineering girls who wrote the Fifth semester examination and appeared for all the papers. I do not know what encouraged them to write the examination. None of them were part of the “For Examination” movement. The immediate senior batch that was in the seventh semester wrote examination. The reasons behind their choice to support our “For Examination” agitation remained a mystery to me, considering that campus placements were less than stellar during those days. A very small minority among them either prepared for or had applied for admission to colleges in the USA. A lesser number harbored ambitions of pursuing MBA programs. It's worth noting that a group of seventh-semester students, perhaps inspired by the success of the "For Examination" movement or driven by their own convictions, decided to approach the High Court to ensure the timely conduct of their examinations.

I was the only boy in the huge examination hall. Engineering drawing hall was our examination hall; chest high drawing table and waist high wooden stools. For me it was the “buffet” mode of examination. Due to anxiety, I seldom sat on the waist high stools. During examination the drawing boards were removed from the table top. Instead of drawing sheet, T-square, set-square, eraser and pencils used during engineering drawing classes, the examinees used question paper, answer sheet, supplementary sheets and pen. The hall featured four long columns of engineering drawing tables, but in a space designed for a hundred such table, only five tables were in use. The eerie silence enveloped the room, not even a hint of sound from the usually creaking drawing tables.

At the end of the examination, I was happy I wrote the examination. I walked the talk. Singularly.

Results were declared. I topped.

It remains one and only occasion in my life I topped in any academic examination.