11. The sweetness of wild honey and the poison of the wild wasp

[VED]

The sweetness of wild honey and the poison of the wild wasp.

[VED]

In the Malabari language, the various indicant word codes for 'She' are as follows: 'Olu', 'Oru'.

Another term, 'Mooppathi', exists but is not being discussed here for now.

The indicant word codes for 'He', such as 'Onu' and 'Oru', are quite similar to those for 'She'.

It seems that the terms 'Oru' and 'Oru' are sometimes used interchangeably. In other words, 'Oru' may be associated with 'He', and 'Oru' with 'She', based on usage.

Additionally, it appears that the words 'Oru' and 'Oru' are also used for the English word 'They'.

Upon close examination, it seems that these words are not exactly equivalent in Malayalam. However, there is a sense of some similarity.

In Malayalam, the various indicant word codes for 'She' are as follows: 'Aval', 'Pulli', 'Pullikkari', 'Ayaal', 'Avaru', 'Sir' / 'Maadam', and so forth.

We can assume, if needed, that 'Aval' in Malayalam corresponds to 'Olu' in Malabari. Similarly, 'Avaru' in Malayalam can be considered equivalent to 'Oru' in Malabari. However, there is no direct equivalent for 'Ayaal' in Malabari.

It was mentioned earlier that the expression 'Aa Aal' exists in Malabari, but it is not the same as 'Ayaal' in Malayalam. Likewise, the term 'Maadam' might be a recent addition to Malayalam usage. Decades ago, women in high or low official positions were addressed and referred to as 'Sir' by common citizens to express subservience.

Moreover, terms like 'Pulli', 'Pullikkari', and 'Pullikkaran' seem to have entered Malayalam from the conversational style of some Christian community. The exact truth of this is unclear.

The Malabari and Malayalam forms of 'She' create vastly different attitudes in individuals within the social atmosphere. This was mentioned at the beginning of this writing (Vol 1 – Chapter 8 - Malabari and Malayalam).

In Malabari, a woman referred to as 'Olu' might express extreme subservience or, conversely, be seen as defiant and mischievous. At the same time, if this same woman shifts from 'Olu' to 'Oru', she may be perceived as overly bold, possessing a strong personality, expecting subservience from others, socially engaging, and having the mental fortitude for such interactions.

In contrast, in Malayalam, even if a woman evolves from 'Aval', a sudden transformation is not necessarily expected. This is because, rather than being placed directly at the highest level, there are various indicant word codes for 'She' that allow for gradual elevation in status.

Although differences between Malabari and Malayalam have been noted, there is also a close connection between the two.

Is not the Malayalam 'Nee' the same as the Malabari 'Inhi'? Could it be that the degradation and loss of quality in Malayalam words, when handled by people lacking education and cultural values over time, resulted in the state of Malabari words? One might think so.

The issue with the above points is that Malabari has been a language native to Malabar from ancient times. In contrast, Malayalam is a language that emerged and developed more recently in Travancore, with Tamil heritage. Furthermore, the lower-class Christians and Ezhavas, who brought Malayalam into Malabar, were traditionally from the lower strata of society. Yet, it is their language form that claims superior quality.

However, if one rejects the claim that Malabari is a degraded form of modern Malayalam, there is no issue.

One could argue that 'Inhi' is not a degraded form of 'Nee'.

Nevertheless, something common observed among the words 'Nee', 'Tu', and 'Inhi' is worth noting here.

Consider the Malabari 'Inhi', Hindi 'Tu', Tamil 'Nee', Malayalam 'Nee', German 'Du', and Irish 'Tú'. These words are understood to be the lowest-level indicant word codes for 'You' in these respective languages.

There is a sense that these word forms, used to address those placed at the lowest rung, all possess a sharp, piercing sound.

It seems that in feudal languages, the sounds of such words are coded with an invisible mechanism designed to wound, demean, or subtly hook and hold a person, as if caught on a fishing line.

At the same time, the indicant word codes used for relatively higher-status individuals in these languages seem to lack this sharp, piercing quality.

In Malabari: 'Ningal' / 'Ingal'

In Hindi: 'Tum', 'Aap'

In Malayalam: 'Ningal', 'Thangal'

In Tamil: 'Neengal', 'Ungal'

And so forth. (I believe the Tamil forms listed here are correct, though I am not certain).

The English word 'You' naturally lacks the sharpness to pierce or weaken a person’s identity or the varied intonations that comfort, strengthen, or affirm it.

However, if 'You' is mentally translated as 'Nee', it may feel as though it gains a certain sharpness. If not translated in this way, that sharpness is not perceived.

In reality, translating English words and sentences into feudal languages can feel like embedding a dagger or a whip within them. Sometimes, it might feel like they are laced with honey and sweetness instead.

Alternatively, it is also possible to experience them as wrapped in rays of pure golden honey. It all depends on which level of indicant word code in the feudal language the English words are translated into.

The issue raised here is the danger of teaching English in Indian formal education as a translated form of local feudal languages. This is a critical matter in the current discussion on the ornamental design of languages. I believe a few points on this can be addressed after one or two more writings.

Today’s writing concludes here.

[VED]

C.A. Innes, I.C.S., in his work Malabar and Anjengo, makes the following observation:

Malayalam is a Dravidian language closely akin to Tamil; but it is still a matter of dispute whether it should be regarded as an “old and much altered offshoot” of Tamil as Dr. Caldwell considered it, or as a sister language “both being dialects of the same member of the Dravidian family,” as Dr. Gundert suggests in his dictionary.

Dr. Caldwell, mentioned above, was a South Asian language scholar during the English administration.

I must first state the limitations of what I am about to write. I am not a language scholar. Everything written here is based on casual observations gathered from daily life over time. Many scholars who have studied these matters in depth may have already noted these points. There is no intention here to challenge their knowledge or findings. However, I am unaware of the specifics of their discoveries.

It is often said that Tamil and Malayalam are closely related languages. The extent of this truth is unclear to me.

Words like 'Nee', 'Eda', 'Edi', 'Avan', 'Aval', and 'Avaru' are widely used in both Tamil and Malayalam. Furthermore, I understand that the word 'pennu' is of Tamil origin. In Malayalam, 'pennu' is, to some extent, considered a pejorative term. There are points worth discussing regarding this word, but I will not delve into that now.

I understand that words like 'Ningal' and 'Thangal' in Malayalam have equivalent expressions in Tamil, with slight phonetic differences. Similarly, words like 'avide' (there) and 'ivide' (here) seem to have near-equivalent sounds in Tamil.

However, I believe a Malayalam speaker with no knowledge of Tamil would not easily understand Tamil. Likewise, a Tamil speaker familiar only with Tamil would likely struggle to comprehend the Sanskrit-derived words in Malayalam.

There are also words in Malayalam and Tamil that have different meanings despite being the same. For example, I understand that the word 'panni' exists in Tamil. In Malayalam, it is an offensive term, while in Tamil, it appears to be a common, non-offensive word used in daily conversation.

Similarly, words like 'samsaram', 'mudichu', and 'kettu' are said to have different meanings in Tamil and Malayalam.

Consider this Tamil phrase:

Vazhkayella eppadi irukku?
(வாழ்க்கையெல்லா எப்படி இருக்கு?)
(The Tamil words written above may not be entirely accurate.)

Without any knowledge of Tamil, one would not understand what this means.

Take the old Tamil film song from Annakili. Some words in this song seem to have a connection with Malayalam words. However, for someone with no knowledge of Tamil, it may take time to grasp the song’s precise meaning.

The above are merely some thoughts that came to mind and have been jotted down here.

Returning to the main discussion, I have noticed one or two words in Malayalam and Malabari that share the same sound but differ in meaning.

However, it does not seem that pure Malabari has been influenced by Tamil. If any influence is observed, it may have come from Malayalam or from interactions with the Tamil people in ancient times.

As noted earlier, it has been recorded that Malabari contains very few Sanskrit words.

In the software coding of languages, one might observe commonalities in their phonetic structures. As mentioned earlier, words meant to wound or suppress may have a sharp, piercing sound.

Consider these English words:

There: avide
Here: ivide

If one points to a distance and says “Here” or points nearby and says “There,” would it not take some time for someone unfamiliar with the language to understand the intended meaning? I am not certain, but it seems that the sounds of words indicating proximity or distance may contain some directional coding.

Doesn’t the word There have a sound that suggests something distant?

Doesn’t the word Here have a sound that implies something nearby?

This phenomenon is noticeable in South Asian languages:

Malayalam: ivide (here), avide (there)
Tamil: inge (இங்கே, here), angu (அங்கு, there)
Hindi: yahaan (यहाँ, here), wahaan (वहाँ, there)

Similarly:
Ivan (this man), Avan (that man)
Ival (this woman), Aval (that woman)

Proximity and distance.

In this regard, Malabari differs from modern Malayalam in one or two specific words.

Ivan - Avan: In Malabari, there is only one word, Onu. The word Inu does not exist.
Ival - Aval: In Malabari, there is only one word, Olu. The word Ilu does not exist.

The reason for this is unclear.

This may be a significant aspect of the software coding of languages. I have nothing further to say on this matter. However, it should be noted that this represents a difference in the ornamental design of languages.

Yet, the claim that Malayalis and Tamils are both Dravidians under a common ethnic identity raises questions about its accuracy.

During the English administration in South Asia, it was a common notion in the writings of English officials that northerners were Kshatriyas and southerners were Dravidians. Scholars, who gain knowledge by reading and studying others’ works, seem to have adopted this view as well.

The accuracy of this information is uncertain. However, many doubts and pieces of information arise in the mind.

I will address these in the next writing.

My writing concludes here for today.

[VED]

There is a prevailing notion, perception, or scholarly opinion that the southern parts of South Asia were traditionally inhabited by Dravidians, while the northern parts were home to Aryans. There is also a widespread belief in some quarters that Aryans possess a commanding personality, while Dravidians are akin to a primitive, tribal-like group.

I have no knowledge of anthropological studies or detailed readings related to this topic. Therefore, what I am about to write is based solely on trivial observations. These points should be given only as much weight as they deserve.

I understand that Tamil Nadu is home to numerous distinct castes and, consequently, diverse groups of people. Among them, a significant number are observed to have very dark skin. One reason for this might be the intense heat and harsh sunlight in Tamil Nadu during the day.

However, another possible reason could be the rigid hierarchical nature of the Tamil language. Tamil has indicant word codes capable of harshly suppressing those at the lower rungs. Moreover, the language’s structure compels those at the bottom to express subservience, loyalty, and affection in their speech, posture, and behavior.

It seems that this could cast a shadow of darkness on both the body and the mind. Whether this can be definitively proven is uncertain.

I have also seen very fair-skinned Brahmins in Tamil Nadu, some with a slight tinge of darker skin. I do not recall noticing the effects of harsh sunlight or the darkness spread by the language codes of lower-status individuals in them. I am unsure of the reality today.

If a few people show great subservience and respect in the presence of someone, feudal languages can bring immense clarity and energy to the mind and a glow to the body. This could be demonstrated by the converse: if lower-status individuals speak demeaningly in feudal language codes without showing subservience, it may lead to darkness in the mind, a drain of energy, physical fatigue, and intense resentment in demeanor.

I have not observed that Brahmins in Tamil Nadu resemble those from northern South Asia in appearance.

Telugus, Tamils, Sinhalese, Kannadigas, Malayalis, Tulus, some Marathis, Irulas, Kurumbas, Paniyas, and others are classified as Dravidians, according to various nonsensical entries on Indian Wikipedia pages.

It seems that images labeled as “Dravidians” in various sources often depict people traditionally oppressed by regional language codes. See the image provided below.

There may be some similarity between Telugus and Kannadigas. The Sinhalese could perhaps be included in this group. However, it does not seem that Tamils can be grouped with them. Among these four groups, one might find diverse individuals. If they speak the same language over generations and live at similar social levels, similarities in facial features, body structure, and, to some extent, skin tone may emerge. The reality is that feudal language codes have the qualities and abilities of a chisel, a whip, a hammer, and a paintbrush.

Take the people of Malabar, for instance. Consider the Cherumars. C.A. Innes, I.C.S., in Malabar and Anjengo, notes that they are Pulayas. This is a designation given by the upper classes. When the upper classes recorded that Thiyyas are Ezhavas, many Thiyya families argued, “We are not Ezhavas,” and they were able to assert this. However, the Cherumars, suppressed to the lowest rung by social and language codes, likely had no opportunity to express an opinion on how they were documented.

Kurumbas, Kurichiyas, Parayas, Pariyars, Malayas, Marumakkathayam Thiyyas, Makkathayam Thiyyas, Nairs, Ambalavasis, and Namboodiris do not seem to be the same people. Even within these groups, some share the same caste name but have no connection. Some had languages incomprehensible to others.

Additionally, Malabar has traditionally been home to Mappilas. Among them, certain families maintain exclusive marital ties with those of clear Arabian lineage. I understand that most of those commonly known as Malabari Mappilas today are a mix of Cherumar, Makkathayam Thiyya, Nair, Ambalavasi, and Brahmin blood with specific Arabian lineages.

Beyond these, Malabar today includes Ezhavas, lower-class Christians, and Syrian Christians from Travancore.

Among these three groups, it seems unlikely that Syrian Christians have any anthropological connection with Tamils. Ezhavas may have had some connections in ancient times.

When examining language scripts, Telugu, Kannada, and Sinhala appear to use rounded, potato-like scripts. Tamil scripts, however, are entirely distinct.

I am not addressing the Vattezhuthu script here. Malayalam scripts differ from both of the above-mentioned script groups.

There is a lingering doubt in my mind whether these scripts were brought from the Malabari language to Travancore. By the time they arrived, they may have undergone slight modifications to accommodate the large influx of Tamil and Sanskrit words used to create modern Malayalam.

Searching “Dravidian” on the internet gives the general impression that Dravidians are an unrefined group. There is also a sense that Aryans are considered highly civilized. There is no dispute that Brahmins in Malabar claim to be Aryans. Similarly, Nairs make the same claim. Even if they are traditionally Shudras, they consider themselves part of the Aryan lineage. However, it seems that many Nairs today have very little Shudra blood, likely carrying predominantly Namboodiri lineage.

If any of the people mentioned above were to live in England, I believe that within one or two generations, their descendants would undergo significant anthropological changes. The reality is that language codes can profoundly influence human physical structure.

The image provided in the previous page is of my first daughter in her early childhood, likely around two years old. I recall a comment made by an IAS officer I knew while I was in Delhi, when my first daughter was about four years old:

“You have Malayali looks. However, your daughter doesn’t have one bit of Malayali looks.”

I claim that this change in anthropological appearance was brought about solely through the linguistic environment. This was not merely due to teaching her English or avoiding other languages. Rather, it was made possible by carefully shielding her from the presence or influence of feudal languages. Admittedly, this was not fully achieved. I believe more on this can be discussed later (see Shrouded Satanism in Feudal Languages).

In individuals with this appearance genetically, it might be possible without any linguistic interventions. However, in my case, there is no such genetic heritage in my family.

A clear decline in this appearance occurred when my first daughter was forcibly enrolled in a local English-medium school. I cannot elaborate on this now. However, although my experiment faltered, it is worth noting that I was able to recognize the changes brought about by the local linguistic environment. Feudal languages create an environment that almost entirely subverts the mental, social, educational, and other aspects of the English-language environment.

I believe that the so-called “crude” Dravidian appearance can be altered through language codes alone. To be precise, any anthropological appearance can be transformed through the linguistic environment. I cannot agree with the foolish belief of Indian formal scholars that Aryans are superior.

At the same time, it seems that those living in the southern parts of South Asia may not all be collectively known as Dravidians. My experience suggests that the linguistic environment can even turn straight hair into curly hair.

Search for images of Dravidians on the internet. It may be noted that the descendants of those who traditionally lived in the southern parts of South Asia are today’s southern Indian population.

[VED]

I have attempted a simple inquiry into where the Malabari language originated, or which group of people—whether migrants to Malabar or those subjugated there—might have spoken it. However, it seems that no substantial information has been found in this regard.

Before concluding this topic, let me mention a few more points.

Although there appear to be significant differences between the scripts of Tamil, Sanskrit (which likely came from outside South Asia), Malayalam, Telugu, Kannada, and other languages, there are also notable similarities among them. The vowels a, ā, i, ī, and consonants ka, kha, ga, gha, ṅa, etc., in Devanagari (Sanskrit script) and Tamil are not exactly identical but share some resemblance. Here, I am specifically focusing on Tamil and Sanskrit.

Malayalam likely drew influences from both.

When discussing scripts, two distinct aspects come to mind.

The first is the process of transforming spoken language into scripts. Without scripts, human speech would merely be sounds. Creating scripts from spoken sounds in a systematic and organized manner must have been a monumental task initially. Once created, making significant changes or refinements to these scripts likely required comparatively less effort.

Today, because scripts exist and people learn them, this process is rarely considered. Understanding spoken sounds, categorizing them into distinct words, breaking those sounds into components, and then representing them as scripts is a significant intellectual endeavor. This might be a task that computers can perform with ease. Keep this in mind.

George W. Stow, F.G.S., F.R.G.S., in The Native Races of South Africa, mentions that Dutch traders in African regions encountered people whose language was so difficult to pronounce that it seemed almost impossible.

Quote: “…but a sobriquet given to them by the early Dutch traders from the almost unpronounceable character of their language…”

The same book notes that many African groups considered the Bushmen, a tribal group in African forests, as mere animals, akin to wild game.

Quote 2: “…evidently classing the Bushmen and the game in the same category as wild animals.”

An English observer named Mr. Chapman is also cited as saying that learning the Bushmen’s language could allow humans to understand many unknown sensations of animals and nature.

Even today, there is no clear information about the sounds of animal languages. There are several points worth discussing on this topic, but that can be addressed later.

The point here is that the sounds of scripts in Sanskrit and Tamil show several similarities in how they were created. Vowels like a, ā, i, ī and consonants like ka, kha, ga, gha, ṅa exist in both, though not in the exact same order or form. Still, there seems to be a similarity in the sounds of their scripts. However, Tamil appears to have a distinct variation in the sound of its script endings.

The second aspect is the visual form of scripts.

It is unclear whether there is any connection between the visual forms of Tamil and Sanskrit scripts.

Consider this: In Sanskrit, the letter a is written as अ, while in Tamil, it is அ. In Sanskrit, ka is written as क, and in Tamil, it is க.

Most Malayalam scripts seem quite different from both.

It is unclear what to make of this. However, categorizing spoken sounds into scripts is one thing, while giving those scripts a visual form in writing is an entirely different matter.

Of these two aspects, it seems that similar intellectual processes occurred in Tamil and Sanskrit for the first. However, it is unclear whether different intellects were at work when creating the visual structure of these scripts.

The sounds of Malayalam scripts were likely derived from Sanskrit and Tamil. However, their visual form does not seem to come from either. This is merely a hunch, as I have no in-depth study or knowledge on this matter.

Let me briefly touch on English scripts here, without delving into their connection with continental European languages.

Consider the word for “mother” in South Asian languages: amma. This is similarly structured in Sanskrit, Tamil, and other South Asian languages. In English, it is written as Amma. Structuring human speech sounds in this way involves a significantly different intellectual process. It must be clearly stated that the creation of these two types of scripts (South Asian and English) likely involved entirely different intellectual capacities. I won’t delve deeper into this now, but the point is that English may be fundamentally different from South Asian languages in almost every way.

When I was studying in Trivandrum, an acquaintance once explained the influence of English scripts on Malayalam words. For instance, the word Mappila was pronounced under this influence as M A ppa ppa ila. In Travancore, Mappila refers to Christians.

Similarly, the word Makri would be pronounced as M A kri kri y.

This is written humorously from memory and should not be taken seriously.

It is understood that linguistic scholars have noted that English scripts have uppercase and lowercase distinctions, which South Asian languages lack. Additionally, English scripts involve compound letters and, relatedly, cursive writing (handwriting improvement practice). Today, cursive writing may have spread to South Asian and other languages.

The form of Malabar’s scripts may belong to a group that migrated, was subjugated, or traditionally lived there. However, it seems that the modern Malayalam scripts were created with deliberate attention to Sanskrit and Tamil.

Travancoreans today have little knowledge of Malabar’s traditional language, Malayalam. The same applies to Malabar’s younger generation. Often, mimicking a regional dialect from Malabar’s interior and claiming it as Malabar’s language leads to misunderstandings. Malabar’s Malayalam is not merely an accent but a language with words not traditionally found in Malayalam.

Words like cherayikk, othiyarkam, meethal, olumba, pathakknu, aye, oriyane, keenchu, ethakked, alamp, vellam, kothamalli, nilakkadala, adikk (sweep), nenthrappazham, idangar, kaikkott, thoombapani, thirinju, mel, makkar, suyipp, aand, kund, madamp, nireechu, and many others in this language—if found in other languages—could make it interesting to explore whether any group in Malabar’s traditional population has connections with those language speakers. Some Malabari words may clearly have connections with Arabic, but that is a separate matter.

Similarly, checking whether any Malayalam scripts appear in those languages would be equally intriguing.

It would be worth exploring whether the origin of Marumakkathayam Thiyyas lies in the Tian Shan mountain regions near Kazakhstan’s border. If such a connection exists, one could further investigate whether any Shamanistic spiritual traditions persisted there.

This topic is being set aside for now. However, when examining similarities in language words, it becomes clear that the ornamental design of a language, its words, the structure of its scripts, the sound of its scripts, and their visual form are distinct aspects. It is worth noting that each of these aspects may be the contribution of different groups, individuals, or even advanced technological or intellectual processes.

Next, I will discuss the two distinctly different social structures created by different languages. After that, I understand that this writing will return to the soil of northern Malabar.

[VED]

Imagine a lorry with a National Permit (NP) from Himachal Pradesh, loaded with apples, traveling to Cape Comorin (Kanyakumari) in Tamil Nadu. The driver knows the route well, having traveled it multiple times. However, he doesn’t mentally map out the entire 3,000-kilometer journey. Instead, he might think about potential challenges at key points along the way.

As the lorry moves forward, the driver focuses on what lies immediately ahead, navigating based on road conditions and turns while letting what’s behind fade from his mind. He steers, brakes, and accelerates as needed, sometimes taking detours when required.

This imagery is used to illustrate the approach of this writing. The direction of the writing often takes shape based on where it stands at a given moment. Having written over 30 books in English on various topics, this path is familiar to me. Each new piece of writing brings greater precision to the ideas.

However, during the writing process, two distinct mental experiences often emerge:

A sudden insight or revelation about certain matters, arising spontaneously in the mind.

A compulsion to deeply analyze subtle aspects that were previously unconsidered.

These two experiences need to be addressed here. There’s no rush to speed through this writing. A private bus traveling the short distance from Kozhikode to Kundootti must adhere to precise timing, where every minute is valuable. In contrast, an NP lorry traveling from Himachal Pradesh to Cape Comorin has no such need for minute-by-minute precision.

This writing is similar—it covers a vast distance without the need for meticulous timing.

A few days ago, I stumbled upon something intriguing about the development of Hindi. It appears that Christian missionaries from foreign lands played a significant role in its growth. Upon closer examination, this seems to hold true.

I lack the authoritative knowledge to write about this in depth. However, a general understanding has emerged.

Christian missionaries from Britain, continental Europe, and America worked to develop the rudimentary languages spoken by people across this subcontinent. They did this by creating scripts for these languages and importing thousands of Sanskrit words into them, as if pouring water from a vessel.

The literary language known as Hindustani, it seems, originally used Persian or Arabic scripts, along with regional scripts like Kaithi.

When the English East India Company sought to elevate the intellectual level of the people in its territories, Lord Macaulay recommended spreading the English language widely. However, local social leaders opposed this, advocating instead for blending Sanskrit with regional dialects to develop those languages and denying people the opportunity to learn English. Some even argued for using Arabic instead.

Upon investigation, it appears true that Christian missionaries were instrumental in developing Hindi. This raises a question: Why didn’t these missionaries teach English to the lower-class people who converted to their faith? Instead, they developed rudimentary languages, infused them with Sanskrit, and created dictionaries for them—an effort that, in hindsight, seems astonishing.

Several thoughts come to mind in this context.

First, the English East India Company did not permit such missionary activities in its territories. However, a vast area of the South Asian subcontinent was outside Company rule. The actual extent of British India can be seen in the map provided on the next page. In regions outside this control, missionaries likely faced fewer restrictions in conducting their work.

Rev. Samuel Mateer, in the Travancore State Manual (page 705), wrote about the attitude of a British Resident in Travancore toward missionary efforts:

Quote: “We soon discovered that the agent of our Christian land, although a Scotchman attached as he said to the Church of England and her services, was much opposed to missionary effort, and more fearful than were the Brahmins respecting the effects of evangelical religion… his ideas concerning our character and intentions were more alarming, absurd and exaggerated, than were those of others who had come into contact with our institutions.”

Summary: The British Resident was more opposed to missionary activities than even the Brahmins… His views about the missionaries’ character and intentions were extremely alarming, absurd, and exaggerated.

Many of these Christian missionaries were Scottish, Irish, or continental Europeans, who may have harbored a subtle resentment or rivalry toward England. Rev. Samuel Mateer himself was Irish. These groups likely had little interest in seeing the influence of English or England grow. Yet, it must be said that they shone in the natural brilliance of England’s glory.

The second point is that if English were to spread among the lower classes, it could upend society entirely. The downtrodden would rise like a plateau. Society would grow in ways unimaginable to traditional European Christianity, potentially fostering a highly disciplined society even without religion. Christianity itself might become redundant. Local Christian evangelists would likely have no interest in such an outcome. In Christianity, the concept of the shepherd and the flock exists, and for newly emerging Christian priests (the shepherds), societal respect and the subservience of the flock would be essential.

The third point is that conducting gospel preaching, communal singing, and group prayers in the everyday language of the lower classes is the simplest, most efficient, and effective method for religious work.

The fourth point is that traditional landlord families would face a significant dilemma in dealing with a slave class that speaks English. An English-speaking slave class could interact with the English without showing subservience, which would be like scattering a cluster bomb in the social order. That these landlord families would oppose Christian missionary activities is also a reality.

However, the vocabulary in rudimentary languages would be extremely limited. For people in a small world, a few words suffice for communication. In English, it’s believed that a thousand words are enough for a group to discuss most matters.

The need for an extensive vocabulary arises when discussing technical matters, politics, law, scriptures, vehicles like airplanes, maritime navigation, medical knowledge, mathematics, thermodynamics, chemistry, botany, zoology, geology, meteorology, culinary arts, poetry, literature, cinema, large-scale commerce, and more.

Yet, for nearly 99% of the population in South Asia at that time, there was no need to think or speak about such matters. In the 1960s and 70s, in Devarkovil, the conversations of local people, as I observed, revolved around trivial matters. Many were illiterate, did not read newspapers, and some listened to the radio only to check the prices of coconut, pepper, or areca nut at Kozhikode’s Valiyangadi market.

The question of where to import scripts and vocabulary for such rudimentary languages must have been seriously considered by Christian missionaries and local reformist social activists. It seems they decided to draw from Sanskrit. When Sanskrit words were poured into the many rudimentary languages of the northern subcontinent, these languages likely developed a collective affinity. This, I believe, is what became modern Hindi. It seems to have been blended into around 19 languages, though I’m not certain.

Moreover, the historical association of Arabic or Persian scripts with Islam may have sparked mild or significant opposition among Brahmins. Importing Devanagari (Sanskrit script) might have been a way to erase this Arabic influence. Brahmins and their associates likely saw this as safer than allowing the lower classes to learn English.

When examining languages like Malayalam, Telugu, Kannada, Odia, Bengali, Hindi, and Punjabi across the subcontinent, it seems that Christian missionaries were largely responsible for infusing them with a Sanskrit overlay and vocabulary.

This, I believe, is the reality behind what is commonly perceived today as Indian nationalism and Hindu tradition.

The reason Malabari Malayalam was not heavily influenced by Sanskrit words could be that it lacked official support in British Malabar, and movements from Travancore defined it as a crude, tribal language. However, it seems they may have used elements of Malabari to develop Malayalam in Travancore.

[VED]

As I write, navigating through the wilderness where light and darkness flicker, like rowing a simple raft through a wild stream, rising and falling with the waves, soaked and dried by turns, I mentioned in the previous post two thoughts that surfaced in my mind.

[Note: A few words about the poetic phrasing used above. The expression “light and darkness” is likely a form of plagiarism from a well-known poem I came across some time ago, though I can’t recall its title. “Plagiarism” refers to literary theft or borrowing. The term kettumaram is the Malayalam equivalent of a raft. The rest of the words emerged naturally from the imagery in my mind. I hope to write later about the emotions words evoke, though I’m unsure if that will happen. End of Note]

The first point has already been elaborated.

The second point is this:

Quote: “A compulsion to deeply analyze subtle matters previously unconsidered arises in the mind.”

The thought that emerged is about how scripts are created.

Creating an alternative set of scripts for the Malayalam language, which is currently in use, is not difficult. One could assign new symbols to sounds like a, ā, i, ī, etc. A completely new set of scripts for the 52 letters and their conjuncts could be devised. Even for a language without its own scripts but sharing similarities with Sanskrit, Tamil, Kannada, or Malayalam, creating a unique script set would require some effort but is not particularly challenging.

However, this would merely be a form of plagiarism. Claiming that Malayalam has its own script set lacks substantial prestige. This is because using something crafted in another grand workshop without giving attribution and presenting it as an original creation feels slightly flawed.

This is where a subtle thought arose in my mind.

How might a new set of scripts (an alphabet) be created?

Consider this simple spoken phrase:

“Nee konduva.”

This could be more precisely “Nee kondu varu” (Come with it).

But as a raw sound, it might be heard as “Neekonduva.”

How would a people with no knowledge of scripts transcribe such a sound into a script?

In the process of creating a script from mere sound, it might be done like this:

Nee gets one symbol: Ò

Ko gets another: ê

Nduva gets a third: œ

Thus, the sound Neekonduva could be written as Òêœ.

However, if distinct symbols were assigned to every unique sound component, thousands of symbols might be needed. While I’m not saying it’s exactly like Chinese scripts, which reportedly number 5,000–7,000, the principle is similar.

In Sanskrit, scripts were created by combining the sound nee with na and an ī sound. From the tens of thousands of sounds in spoken language, certain fundamental sounds were identified and used to create alphabets.

To create a script set for complex human speech sounds, one must identify these fundamental sounds, understand related common sounds, define their specific forms (ā, i, ī, u, ū, au), and assign corresponding sounds.

This is a monumental task. Ordinarily, only a few individuals or groups with exceptional mental strength, vast imagination, persistent effort, and deep commitment could accomplish this. Alternatively, it feels possible that an advanced technological tool was involved.

This kind of creation is not something that a group of mediocre minds could achieve by running a language laboratory.

Many technical aspects of this creation process come to mind, but I cannot delve into them now.

I am unaware of what linguistic scholars know about script creation. As I lack this knowledge, I’m noting what came to my mind.

I cannot venture into what linguistics says about the history of English scripts. But consider this:

The phrase “Ivide kondu varoo” (Bring here) might be heard as “Ividekonduvaroo.”

In English, this becomes “Bring here,” though it’s typically said as “Bring it here,” “Bring him here,” or “Bring them here.”

Understand that without scripts, these are mere sounds. For example, Bring it here might sound like “Bringgithya” or similar.

Creating an alphabet by hearing and understanding this sound and countless others is a complex task.

However, it seems unlikely that an alphabet like a, b, c, d, e, f, g, h, i, j, k, l, m, n, o could be created by merely hearing sounds.

Instead, it requires broad, external, and structured thinking. Simply hearing, observing, touching, shouting, or singing the word bring wouldn’t naturally lead to imagining it as b r i n g.

In reality, creating such a fundamental script set likely requires planning and coding beyond the language process itself.

This leads to the concept of a fundamental script. It can be understood that the scripts of each language were created by assigning different symbols or forms to a fundamental script set, defining their interconnections, and crafting them through relatively simple effort.

What must be considered here is that the sounds of scripts in Sanskrit and Tamil are related. Moreover, the way scripts are combined to form words shows similarities. This suggests that both were derived from the same fundamental script set.

However, English is different. It seems to have been derived from a different fundamental script set.

Additionally, note that English has only 26 letters, while Malayalam has 52, plus numerous conjuncts. Chinese reportedly has 5,000–7,000 characters. This is often discussed as a limitation of English and a strength of Asian feudal languages. However, I believe the ability to simplify complex matters to the most basic level is a sign of a society’s great intellectual capacity.

Notice that in English, symbols like ā, i, ī, u, ū, au, which stretch, compress, twist, or modify letter forms and sounds, are absent in standard speech and writing. However, I understand that phonetics is used in linguistics when teaching English to non-native speakers.

(This has become a complex topic today. I understand that those fluent in English don’t need phonetics, but it’s worth examining whether it significantly benefits those who lack this fluency.)

What must be noted is that there need not be a connection between a script and the ornamental design of a language. Both feudal and egalitarian languages might derive their scripts from the same fundamental script set.

[VED]

Readers may have noticed that this writing has not yet begun to narrate history. Before delving into history, the effort here is to clearly define the various social contexts and communities of this subcontinent from its historical period onward. This is necessary to clarify whose history, which society, and which region’s history is being written. Without this clarity, merely listing historical events and the actions of those who lived through them would be like studying the ocean by only observing its surface, which feels inadequate.

The discussion of the various backgrounds of the Marumakkathayam Thiyyas of North Malabar has wandered deep into the wilderness. However, the point where this writing now stands, and the direction of the writer’s intent, has reached a place entirely unforeseen. The prevailing claims about the shared heritage of the newly formed nation called India are now sparking a desire to confront them. Yet, I, the writer, am not someone who relishes confrontations. Still, I cannot refrain from expressing what has arisen in my mind.

I lack the profound knowledge to elaborate on these matters deeply. Moreover, I have no capacity to dive into the depths of such topics, as only those proficient in languages like Sanskrit, Pali, Magadhi, Ardhamagadhi, Prakrit, Hindi, Urdu, Hindustani, Arabic, and Persian could truly understand the reality of what I am about to say. I am not versed in any of these languages.

What I am about to express is a thought that has taken root in my mind. Such thoughts must be voiced because the writings and claims of those who profess scholarly authority often reflect their personal interests, patriotism, communal biases, political leanings, or job security. If these influences are stripped away and the subcontinent’s matters are written with clarity, the picture that emerges might be very different.

It is often said:

“For thousands of years, Hindus have lived in this subcontinent. At their helm are Brahmins, with lower castes beneath them. Their ancient language, Sanskrit, is one of great sophistication. Using the four Vedas, mantras, tantras, Upanishads, Brahmanas, Smritis, and Shrutis in daily life, they led a highly refined existence. These are the ancestors of today’s people in this subcontinent.”

This is the narrative propagated by many with patriotic fervor, used to bolster their sense of pride and identity.

However, I cannot recall ever feeling that this narrative holds true.

Wherever British rule was established, they would investigate whether any ancient traditions lay buried in obscurity. When British India was established in parts of South Asia, they sensed that the region might have had significant ancient traditions. Yet, the vast majority of the subcontinent’s population consisted of various levels of subjugated people. Nowhere was it explicitly documented that they were slaves, and this remains the case in modern India.

It seems that British rule was responsible for recovering, preserving, studying, and introducing to the world many Sanskrit palm-leaf manuscripts that were nearly forgotten in Brahmin households and other places. In other words, the British administration revitalized and nurtured a fading Sanskrit tradition that had arrived in the subcontinent from somewhere else.

In the northern parts of South Asia, ordinary people likely spoke various rudimentary languages. These may have been influenced by ancient languages like Pali, Magadhi, Ardhamagadhi, or Prakrit. However, maharajas, petty kings, large landowners, and others might have spoken Hindustani or similar languages. Brahmins may have had a limited connection with Sanskrit, with some involved in maintaining temples as a hereditary practice.

Foreign-origin Muslim rulers and their families likely adopted much of the opulent demeanor of local elites. Many of them married into prominent non-Muslim local families.

To say that kings ruled does not mean they operated schools, hospitals, legal systems, courts, or welfare programs. Rather, their primary agenda was to keep the various societal strata suppressed and utilize them for the benefit of the elite.

It seems unlikely that there is any significant connection between the Sanskrit-speaking culture and people that emerged thousands of years ago in Central Asia and the people the British encountered in this subcontinent.

Firstly, most people had no knowledge of Sanskrit, and they were denied access to Brahmin temples.

Some Brahmins may have had considerable expertise in Sanskrit traditions, but this was likely limited to a small group, often those associated with temples. Their primary agenda was likely to maintain the societal hierarchy of subjugation.

Brahmins did not allow others into their religion. Sharing their spiritual status with the lower classes was considered highly dangerous, and they were well aware of this. Such folly was only undertaken by certain Christian movements and Islam.

Sanskrit, with its Devanagari script, vast vocabulary, Vedic literature, mantras, tantras, and astrological texts, is well-documented. Similar ancient traditions exist in various parts of the world, such as ancient Egypt, though the fate of those people is unknown.

There is no basis to claim a connection between the Vedic-era people and those the British encountered in this subcontinent. Such claims would be an insult to the Vedic culture’s people.

It is unclear which fundamental script served as the basis for creating Sanskrit or Devanagari scripts. However, those who created the fundamental script must have been intellectual giants. Whether they were the ones who sustained Vedic culture is uncertain, as Vedic culture itself likely has an even more ancient origin. It could be said that the Vedic people derived their scripts from an earlier fundamental script.

It is said that the four Vedas were not created simultaneously, though the basis for this claim is unclear. Creating the Vedas, mantras, and tantras required extraordinary capabilities, possibly even advanced technology.

Moreover, mantras, tantras, and astrology exist in the ancient traditions of many parts of the world. How these were interconnected in antiquity is unknown, but there are notable similarities. For instance, there are many parallels between European witchcraft and the sorcery practices of this subcontinent. However, those traditionally believed to practice sorcery in this subcontinent were often marginalized lower-class groups, so they may not resemble European witches in appearance or personality.

Christian missionaries from Britain, continental Europe, and America worked to uplift many of the subcontinent’s lower classes, both through conversion and otherwise.

Brahmins would not share their Sanskrit knowledge, language, or scripts with the lower classes. If these were taken from them, the lower classes could appropriate them, build temples, study the Vedas, use mantras, read Sanskrit literature, compose Sanskrit poetry, and study astrology. Some might even rise to become spiritual gurus.

The Vedas, Upanishads, mantras, Smritis, and astrology are not mere trivialities. However, it is unlikely that they were created by Brahmins or the ancestors of any specific group in modern India. Given that individuals today are connected to millions of ancestors from 300–400 years ago, and potentially billions from 4,000 years ago or more, such claims are untenable.

It seems unlikely that Brahmins had the capacity to create the Vedas or mantras, nor is it likely they knew how these were made. However, they somehow came into possession of these and preserved them with care, quality, and exclusivity for centuries. Their loyalty and commitment to these traditions are noteworthy. Whether those who later acquired these traditions from them maintained the same loyalty and commitment is uncertain.

The British administration likely found that 99% of the subcontinent’s people were illiterate lower classes, speaking various distinct languages among themselves. When missionaries from Britain and Europe planned to uplift these people, they likely realized the need for common languages. At the same time, they may have decided not to promote the language of the nearby British-Indian administration, for reasons mentioned earlier.

This likely led to thousands or tens of thousands of Sanskrit words being infused into the numerous rudimentary languages of the northern subcontinent, along with Sanskrit scripts. As a result, these languages began to show similarities. For example, if modern Malayalam were written in Hindi scripts, a degree of affinity between the two languages might emerge within a few decades. While modern Malayalam has tens of thousands of words, the rudimentary languages of that time likely had only a few hundred.

As Sanskrit entered these languages, knowledge of the Vedas, Upanishads, mantras, Smritis, and astrology gradually seeped into the minds of those who spoke, wrote, and read these languages.

Thus, everyone began to integrate into a grand Vedic Indian culture.

Please Note: The above topic has been approached very simply. A deeper exploration would require addressing many more details, including the case of Tamil, which cannot be covered here due to limitations.

[VED]

Before proceeding further, I wish to record a fact here. It appears that Jews and Syriac Christians who arrived in this subcontinent from outside did not attempt to bring others into their faith. The Parsis from Iran seem to have behaved similarly. The strongest reason behind this likely lies in their deep intertwining of their lineage and heritage with their spiritual systems.

Brahmins acted in much the same way. Therefore, it is not fair to single out their behavior for criticism. These groups likely understood that different human communities have distinct behaviors and characteristics, making it impossible to view or treat everyone the same.

They may have shared a common inclination to distance themselves from those with barbaric tendencies, repulsive behaviors, dangerous mindsets, or languages, as well as from communities with social structures entirely dissimilar to their own. They likely felt no guilt in thinking or acting this way, as they probably had detailed knowledge about these other groups.

It is uncertain whether continental Europeans held the view that all humans are alike. However, their proximity to England over time likely exposed them to some degree of influence and information about the behaviors of the English populace. I cannot elaborate further on this point here.

Imagine a small region in India directly governed by England. The people, their behavior, personality, bureaucratic conduct, police demeanor, social discipline, and work ethics would be markedly different. If such a region existed for centuries, it could creatively influence many formal thought patterns in India. However, fundamental changes in people’s behaviors, thoughts, or attitudes might not occur easily, as Indian languages are deeply feudal.

This is also the case for many continental European nations.

For the English, their language, with its egalitarian codes, fosters the belief that all humans are fundamentally the same, differing only in skin color or education level. However, they remain unaware that this naive perspective is rarely found outside the English language. Consequently, when individuals or groups who have risen to prominence through association with them or in English-speaking nations accuse them of racism or deceit, they lack the linguistic codes to respond intelligently.

In feudal languages, there is no mechanism to accommodate such accusations. A housemaid might be affectionately addressed as “nee,” “edi,” or “aval,” while being made to address her employers as “chechi,” “chettan,” “sir,” or “amma.” She would sit on the floor, show deference, wear worn clothes, and openly display subservience without hesitation. She might share this bond with her employers among her own people, earning their admiration. No one feels wronged, no accusations arise, and there is no talk of racial or other discrimination.

The Malabar district, once known as British Malabar, was formed by consolidating various small kingdoms in North and South Malabar. Some uninformed historians claim in simplistic encyclopedias that the English deceived Indians to seize these regions.

However, the flaw in such claims is that there was no unified, amicable “Indian” populace in Malabar or elsewhere. Instead, there were groups speaking feudal languages, eager to demean or suppress one another both individually and collectively whenever possible.

Each suppressed community held great affection for their overlords while harboring deep contempt for those beneath them. They likely derived immense pleasure from watching their overlords oppress their subordinates.

This mindset persists today in Malabar, Kerala, and India. Many react with glee when police officers assault someone of lower social standing, thinking, “He deserves that and more.” There is some truth to this perspective.

In this deeply hostile social environment, the British created British India across nearly half the subcontinent, leveraging the remarkable egalitarian qualities of the English language. A vast history related to this pulses in my mind and must be written. But first, the people of this subcontinent need to be defined. For formal historians, lumping everyone as “Indians” simplifies history writing. However, the complexities of this subcontinent’s populace cannot be captured in such a simplistic definition.

The writing has somehow caught a spark and flared up.

Returning to the intended path.

The point was the possible origin of Malabar’s language. I cannot provide a definitive answer, but some thoughts can be shared.

Malabar likely had a language with a limited vocabulary. In Travancore, Tamil was likely the traditional language. However, various rudimentary languages, including Malabari Malayalam, existed among people of different social strata in Travancore. From around 1600, words from Sanskrit, the spiritual and literary language of Brahmins, began flowing into local rudimentary languages across the subcontinent, likely altering their structural patterns significantly.

The communities traditionally speaking these rudimentary languages were likely diverse, possibly arriving in the subcontinent from various parts of the world through different means. In ancient times, capturing people and enslaving them was common. The Malabar Manual records a group in Malabar that plundered vulnerable foreign sailing ships approaching the coast. Additionally, if a ship wrecked on Malabar’s rocky shores during a storm, local people would promptly loot it.

Christian missionaries from Britain likely made significant efforts to infuse Sanskrit words into local rudimentary languages.

These missionaries, driven by a subtle rivalry with the English administration, deliberately avoided fostering a Christian populace that spoke English.

Another point must be noted. Though lower classes spoke rudimentary languages, these languages likely contained words capable of evoking devotion, worship, respect, subservience, fear, insecurity, awe, agitation, anxiety, guilt, remorse, conscience, compassion, love, affection, desire, and tenderness. When thousands of words and expressions from Sanskrit’s vast repository were added, these languages gained the richness and flavor of wild honey, enhancing the beauty of Christian devotion, worship, communal prayers, and church activities.

Sanskrit was likely not the hereditary language or tradition of the subcontinent’s lower classes. It seems that English rule saved it from complete oblivion. However, this language carries not only the sweetness of wild honey but also the venom of a forest wasp. There is no evidence that it ever fostered social equality or uplifted the common people’s dignity. It is incapable of doing so. Its golden epics are replete with caste and other forms of discrimination, and it contains “indicant word codes” that imbue words with hierarchical weight.

If this toxic language were to spread in English-speaking nations, it would erode their virtues, serving as an open door for other feudal languages like Hindi.

Languages like Malayalam, Kannada, Telugu, Hindi, and Punjabi may have evolved from rudimentary languages infused with Sanskrit words. Other rudimentary languages may have merged into these or vanished entirely.

These thoughts about regional languages emerged spontaneously in my mind. Their accuracy is uncertain.

Now, I return to the soil of North Malabar.

[VED]

In British Malabar, which placed emphasis on English, English education, English bureaucratic systems, English social etiquette, and more, the English administration, after a brief period—much like a dreamlike spring arriving and departing in a tropical land, scattering a few pearls—left the region in a near-orphaned state with a hardened heart and no compassion in 1947. There is much to say on this matter, but the time to delve into it has not yet come.

The disarmed Malabar and its rudimentary language directly confronted the fully armed movements of Travancore. A bureaucratic system, operating in the Malayalam language—which had been hastily cobbled together just a few centuries prior, giving legitimacy to the hierarchical landlord-tenant disparities and displaying a fierce, beastly demeanor—came to seize Malabar.

It seems that the Malayalam language, poised to grasp and swallow the rudimentary language of Malabar with its limited vocabulary, displayed a vast word repository, richness of expression, and a profound traditional grandeur. This is not a misconception. However, the reality behind this likely lies in the fact that Malayalam had been freely drawing and netting words of various forms and beauty from the deep ocean of the Sanskrit language without any restraint. If words are taken so freely from another language without hesitation, it feels as though that language itself might entirely dissolve and merge into Malayalam.

Two days ago, I checked online to see if there was a synonym for the word ‘kadannal’ (wasp).

What I found was truly astonishing. It was then that I first realised the extent of Malayalam vocabulary.

Here’s a sample I came across:

Kanchuki: Dwarapalakan, Pratiharan, Vetradharakan

Kanji: Ushnika, Tarala, Yavagu, Vilepi, Shrana

Kadakol: Dadhichiram, Mantham, Manthanam

Kadakannu: Apingam, Nayanantam, Netraparyantam

Kadannal: Gandoli, Gandoli, Varata, Varati

If things continue this way, within a few decades, claims might arise that all ancient Sanskrit literary works are actually old Malayalam compositions. Furthermore, they might even be written in Malayalam scripts.

It is understood that Sanskrit contains beautiful words. Many of these words might evoke intoxication, frenzy, or a magical allure in the human mind. However, within these words, which are potent like a narcotic wrapped in sweetness, there are also sharp thorns—like those of paper flowers—that can pierce and cause great pain. That is the reality.

In this writing, I have already elaborated on the enslaved people of Travancore, the Ezhavas, the lower-class Christians, and the Marumakkathayam Thiyyas of North Malabar. At the same time, I have only briefly mentioned the Syriac Christians of Travancore and the Makkathayam Thiyyas of South Malabar. What I’ve written is indeed information that causes at least a little pain to everyone. The reason for this pain might be that, as each community stands inflated like a balloon, claiming grand connections and traditions, this information might feel like the touch of a pin piercing those balloons.

When this writing reached this point, I had intended to follow CPS’s official career path and journey from Malabar to Travancore. However, something else has now come to mind. That is to examine the matters of Malabar’s Nairs, Ambalavasis, and Brahmins in a similarly detailed manner. If I do not do so, there might be a significant error in understanding the distinct characteristics of the local society of that time.

While one can casually define groups like Brahmin, Ambalavasi, and Nair, the reality might be that within these definitions, various distinct communities have been lumped together.

This information is not my own observation. Rather, it comes from works such as Malabar Manual by William Logan, Travancore State Manual by V. Nagam Aiya, Native Life in Travancore by The Rev. Samuel Mateer, and Castes & Tribes of Southern India and Omens and Superstitions of Southern India by Edgar Thurston. However, the work I currently rely on most in this writing is Malabar and Anjengo by C.A. Innes, I.C.S.

Not only must we examine the three groups that, for ages, have been hanging and clinging to the top of a society in constant insecurity, but we must also look at some of those at the very bottom. However, I wish to keep these descriptions as concise as possible.

There were also Muslims in North and South Malabar, commonly known as Mappilas. I cannot write about them now. The reason is that writing about them would inevitably require delving into the depths of history—a vast journey in itself. The time for that has yet to come.

All those mentioned above might be the communities that Mr. Govindan (CPS’s father) socially interacted with in Tellicherry during and after the English rule.

[VED]

In Malabar, Travancore, and indeed across South Asia, systematic historical studies and historiography truly began only with the arrival of English rule in this subcontinent. While there may have been some isolated writings prior to that, it would be necessary to examine how impartial and free from ulterior motives they were.

However, in the books written by English officers—either personally or as part of their official duties with the involvement of subordinate officers—there may often have been interference and influences from local officers, overlords, and others.

Moreover, Englishmen and Celtic-language speakers who arrived from Britain as officers under English rule likely understood the social realities they encountered in quite different ways. This is because they were people with differing linguistic codes.

But overall, it must be said that they failed to grasp many things in their true depth.

For instance, in Native Life in Travancore, The Rev. Samuel Mateer states:

QUOTE:
All dread the raising of the lower classes and their admission to the common rights of humanity. “The very essence of caste lies in the degradation of others.”
END OF QUOTE

While the above statement is true, this observation lacks significant depth. The core of the local feudal language itself is the degradation of others. Here, the term “others” doesn’t fully convey the meaning. The reality is clear: subservience to the higher-ups and the degradation of those below. It’s not about different ethnic groups being of varying quality.

While I currently rely on Malabar and Anjengo by C.A. Innes, I.C.S., for this writing, I must state its limitations. Firstly, I have only read a few pages of that book so far. Moreover, the book may also contain ideas influenced by the personal interests of local officers.

For example, it is repeatedly and strongly asserted in several places that the Thiyyas of Malabar are Ezhavas. Seeing such a claim immediately suggests that there must have been a prevailing societal argument at the time that this was not true.

Furthermore, from the time the English Company established its trading centre in Tellicherry in the late 1600s to the 1900s, significant changes in perspectives and outlooks regarding this region can be observed.

From the perspective of Malabar, Madras, Travancore, and South Asia—where countless small kingdoms and entities were scattered within a vast, unimaginable region akin to a continent—the natural sentiment that began to emerge among the new generations of people, as well as among officers arriving from England and Britain, was one of a vast nation called British India, alongside a few large regional kingdoms that owed it great loyalty and allegiance.

If one carefully compares Malabar Manual, published in 1887, with Malabar and Anjengo, published in 1908, it may be possible to observe the gradual changes in perspective.

While Malabar Manual contains faint hints that Malabar and Travancore are a single region, Malabar and Anjengo presents this as an almost complete truth.

Here are the observations that come to mind.

Firstly, many official books credited to the personal names of English officers may contain writings by numerous unnamed local officers.

Such books may contain some inaccurate information. However, these inaccuracies are today being used to settle various social disputes. A clear example of this is the claim that Thiyyas are Ezhavas.

Secondly, the notion that Malabar and Travancore are the same region and the same people.

What we need to see in such matters is not historical documentation but the significant mental shift occurring among the people of that society at the time. People from Travancore, driven by immense self-interest, had begun to seize control of Malabar.

A similar situation can be observed in England today. Large groups of outsiders have entered England, erasing or rewriting all its traditions. However, it appears that the new generation born and raised there fails to understand this. I can elaborate on this matter later.

Another point about Malabar is that what is referred to as the common people consists of various ethnic groups or occupational classes across different strata. At the same time, society has various types of overlords in different forms. Often, it is the aspirations, beliefs, opinions, and interests of these overlords that are considered the defining characteristics of that society.

Those at the bottom lack the mental strength, knowledge, and cultural elevation to form opinions or think beyond what the overlords dictate.

It seems that each new generation failed to fully understand the gradual social changes occurring across the subcontinent due to the presence of English rule. Things seen from birth are often perceived as eternal truths.

It must be understood that the kingdoms and rulers in Malabar at the time of the English Company’s arrival were likely living in a very small world. However, when viewed through English eyes, everyone could escape definitions like “small” or “insignificant.” Often, the English would grant a sense of dignity to others in ways the local people were unwilling to. Moreover, there was also the folly of comparing the kings, landlords, and folk heroes of this semi-primitive region to personalities from England.

The English side would draft clear written agreements with the defeated kings and other adversaries, uphold those agreements, make promises to them, and keep their word.

At the same time, in South Asian society, if word spread that “Adheham” (highest he) had become “avan” (lowest he), the locals would assign the value of mere straw to written agreements and promises.

An example of this can be seen in how King Marthanda Varma of Travancore dealt with the Dutch. He had promised to supply them with a fixed quantity of pepper at a pre-agreed price during negotiations. Based on this promise, the Dutch made several concessions and reduced their military strength. However, the king, who was aligned with the English Company, upon learning of the Dutch’s weakened position, adopted an attitude of, “Nee (lowest you) are all mere street vendors; if you want, go to the market and buy pepper at whatever price you can get, off with you, go!”

In this incident, one can also observe the attitude of officers in this subcontinent toward traders. A similar attitude existed in France. There is much to say on this matter.

When engaging in a gentlemanly negotiation and forcing an opponent to surrender, the moment the opponent lays down their arms, the language shifts to “nee,” “eda,” or “edi” (lowest forms of address). Then, the agreement and the given word become utterly worthless.

The deviation from promises made in the past by those whose dignity has eroded can be seen in the diminished value given today to the promises made to Kashmir in 1947. In 1947, it was not certain that Kashmiris were Indians. But today, they are Indian citizens, defined as insignificant in the linguistic codes of Indian officers, who see them merely as “nee,” “avan,” or “aval” (lowest he/she).

The negotiations and discussions with Kashmiris in 1947 likely took place almost entirely in English. However, things have changed, and today, they are likely conducted mostly in Hindi.

A scenario might arise where a revolutionary speaks in English with an old-school IPS officer proficient in English and surrenders. Once surrendered, local feudal-language-speaking police constables, who only know how to see the person as “thoo” (lowest you), take custody of them.

If a person becomes “thoo” or “nee,” what dignity can they have? What word given to a despicable person needs to be honoured?

The English are the ones whose spirit has remained entirely untainted by such degradation. To some extent, those who speak pure, unadulterated Arabic might also possess such dignity, though I am not certain of this. Moreover, it is unclear whether such an Arab community exists in the world today.

However, certain subversive elements from South Asia who have infiltrated England today are intent on reducing this unique and noble dignity of the English to dust. They are making arrangements to teach Sanskrit in schools there. I understand that the English are unaware that this is a far more dangerous scheme than what is mislabelled as Islamic terrorism. The notion that one can only be a threat with a gun or bomb in hand is sheer ignorance.

If readers wonder why I am veering off track in this writing, the answer is that this writing can only move forward by defining the people and societies of this subcontinent, their natural characteristics, and the involuntary reflexes hidden within them.

[VED]

As mentioned earlier, this writing will now proceed with reference to the book Malabar and Anjengo. Many details in this book are corroborated by other documents. The matters to be discussed are indeed factual.

I am unsure how the matters I am about to write are connected to the glorified cultural heritage proclaimed as Arsha Bharata Samskaram or similar notions. However, it is clear that many behavioural norms seen in society today also existed in the past. The real issue lies in feudal language itself.

It is commonly understood that the English, British, and other white people lacked any sense of sexual morality, while families in Malabar, Kerala, and India were rooted in high moral standards. Such perceptions among people may stem from watching pornographic videos a few decades ago, observing men and women walking nearly fully naked in tourist spots like Kovalam, or reading such insinuations in local language newspapers. There may be other reasons as well.

However, local individuals who perceive things this way often remain unaware of the reality of their own region. Most people grow up with a diminished sense of personality. In schools, homes, and society, individuals addressed as nee (lowest you), eda, edi, avan (lowest he), or aval (lowest she) are raised expressing subservience. Such people lack the personality to speak with dignity, even to a police constable, or to use the respectful ningal (you) when addressing others.

These are the individuals living in today’s local society. The only way they know to elevate their personality is by finding opportunities to demean others through language codes.

Being a teacher, a police constable, a higher-ranking official, an employer, a manager, or an elder sibling to younger individuals are some ways to reclaim this personality. Addressing another person as nee (lowest you) and establishing their subservience is considered a significant achievement.

However, the divine approach is to avoid learning feudal languages, study pristine English, and use only that. Yet, no one seems to have the courage for this.

I cannot elaborate further here, as the writing might veer off course.

What I am getting at is that the thoughts of a society with a diminished sense of personality are often mistaken for great wisdom in this land.

This is not an individual’s failing but the result of the oppressive dominance of a society’s nature that suppresses individuals.

Here, I can only address matters concerning Malabar and the Travancore region, which are already highly complex.

The English administration observed an extremely oppressive caste system in Malabar. While many believe this has been eradicated today, that is not the reality. It has transformed and persists strongly in the form of government officials, their aides, doctors, lawyers, landowners, large-scale traders, small-scale traders, workers of various levels, ordinary people, and those engaged in jobs defined as menial in feudal language.

The English administration noted a rigid hierarchy in society, like a rock formation.

QUOTE from Malabar and Anjengo: There is an entire hierarchy of castes peculiar to ‘Malabar’... END OF QUOTE.

However, they did not understand the powerful social mechanism behind it.

English officials documenting Malabar may have lacked precise knowledge of Japan, other Asian countries, African regions, other parts of South Asia, or even continental Europe. Thus, they may have thought the social reality they observed in Malabar was unique.

In Malabar and Anjengo, Sir H. Risley, a renowned English ethnographer, notes:

QUOTE: The evolution of the elaborate modern systems of caste has been due largely to the influence of the fiction that difference of religion, custom, locality, profession and the like, are analogous to race distinctions, and should be similarly stereotyped; END OF QUOTE.

This observation seems like a tangible reality but lacks depth. The reason is the significant reality of feudal language behind it all.

Feudal languages create a peculiar, invisible web, fence, boundary, atmosphere, horizon, sphere, or orbit in the human mind and society.

This mental disposition, shaped by feudal languages, naturally constructs the caste system in societies where people live and operate under its influence.

To understand this, one must know what feudal language is and that such a communication code exists beyond English. Without this knowledge, the words written above become mere verbal acrobatics.

Some English administrators came close to understanding this, but they could not delve deeper.

It may seem surprising that locals who are aware of this do not raise it for discussion. There is a clear reason for this, which I will address later.

Sir H. Risley’s remarks are as follows:

QUOTE: The basis of fact underlying the idea of caste is the physiological instinct of race distinction, which encourages hypergamy, or the rule which forbids a woman to marry a man of an inferior race or group, and tends to separate the progeny of mixed marriages into distinct endogamous groups.

In other words, Namboodiri blood remains pure Namboodiri blood through generations. Children born to Shudra women exist as a distinct group, the Nairs.

Though this pertains to old caste ideologies, it has been reinvented in today’s new caste system. This affects many contemporary marriage practices, which I will examine before proceeding further.

[VED]

In the previous writing, I provided two distinct quotes from Sir H. Risley, the renowned English ethnographer of that era. They are as follows:

Idea: The caste system persists due to the myth that differences in religion, customs, locality, and profession are equivalent to racial distinctions, and people with such differences should be treated as distinct races.

Idea: It is permissible for men to marry women from lower castes, but women cannot marry men from lower castes. Moreover, children born to lower-caste women must exist as a separate caste, thereby preserving the racial purity of higher-caste individuals.

These observations are indeed profound. Sir H. Risley describes what he saw and noted. Even today, these phenomena can be observed in many parts of South Asia. However, this is merely an observation of what is seen. Neither Sir H. Risley nor any other English administrative official or scholar of that time seems to have explained why things are this way.

For a long time, many prominent figures in this subcontinent have been vociferously preaching about human equality as a panacea, accompanied by much noise, vague ideologies, and more. In reality, human equality is not absent in this subcontinent. On the contrary, in feudal languages, there is not just one form of equality but at least two, and commonly three. This is the problem.

In truth, many find equality with the English desirable. Similarly, equality with those of higher social or official standing is very pleasing. Beyond that, however, human equality is, for most, a deeply distasteful concept—something unbearable.

For ease of understanding, let me explain it this way:

Thankal - Thankal (highest you - highest you)

Ningal - Ningal (middle you - middle you)

Nee - Nee (lowest you - lowest you)

These three levels of equality are possible between individuals. Everyone is aware of this. Among these, the most enduring, fundamental, and deeply connected to human personality is the nee - nee (lowest you - lowest you) form of address.

These three types of human equality, each with distinct levels and characteristics, cannot be conceptualised in English.

I won’t delve deeper into this matter now.

However, let us focus on one aspect of the complex entanglements that this peculiar coding of human equality creates in the ornamental pattern designs of this society.



Look at the image provided above. For ease of visualisation, it depicts ordinary individuals interacting with officials in an Indian government department. In feudal languages, while an ordinary citizen is generally subordinate to all officials, some individuals, through various personal abilities, can establish one of the three levels of equality mentioned above with government officials of different ranks.

An ordinary person establishes nee - nee (lowest you - lowest you) equality with a peon.

Another ordinary person establishes nee - nee equality with a clerk.

A third ordinary person establishes nee - nee equality with a district officer.

A fourth ordinary person establishes nee - nee equality with an IAS officer.

Readers must understand that, among the three types of equality, the strongest and most robust forms of equality created in all four cases above are nee - nee.

It should be briefly noted that, among IAS officers of the same seniority, differences in age might sometimes lead to a hierarchy reflected in a nee - ningal (lowest you - middle you) dynamic. I won’t delve into that now.

The critical point to stress is that these grand, anxiety-inducing forms of human equality, along with the subtle hierarchies and manipulations they entail, do not exist in English.

An ordinary person who shares nee - nee equality with a peon remains inferior to a clerk, district officer, or IAS officer if they attempt to establish equality with them.

The same applies to each ordinary person who establishes equality at higher levels.

For an IAS officer, it is problematic if the three ordinary individuals who established nee - nee equality at lower levels approach them and interact using any of the three forms of equality.

The reality is likely that the English of that time could not grasp this peculiar and highly complex concept of equality, along with the associated social structures, alienation, and repulsion between individuals. This is because English lacks such a rigid connection between communication and social hierarchy.

Now, let us connect this insight to the earlier-mentioned quotes.

Idea: The caste system persists due to the myth that differences in religion, customs, locality, and profession are equivalent to racial distinctions, and people with such differences should be treated as distinct races.

Here, “religion” can be interpreted as referring to different castes, as Islam and Christianity fall outside this caste framework.

We can compare high-caste Brahmins to IAS officers, ordinary Brahmins to district officers, temple-dwelling castes (Ambalavasis) to clerks, and Nairs to peons, each establishing equality with different ordinary people.

Ordinary individuals who cannot establish any form of equality with the government officials mentioned above can be likened to castes from Theeyas downward to Cherumars.

In those times, these different castes likely had distinct spiritual beliefs, customs, manners, and behaviours. Many of these may have caused repulsion or disgust among higher groups.

Though it is said today that the old caste system has vanished, society still consists of ordinary people at these varying levels.

One point must be clarified. It is true that English-speaking nations also have occupational hierarchies with higher and lower positions. However, in English, there is no system where language codes infiltrate deeply and cause mischief. When a lower-ranking government employee is addressed as you and responds with you, an ordinary person does not become an object of repulsion or disgust to higher officials.

This broader perspective relates to locality or environment, which I will address in the next writing.

[VED]

In feudal language societies, as mentioned in the previous writing, individuals who live in equality with others arranged from the bottom to the top of the social ladder become akin to a specific caste at that social level.

In other words, a person who becomes an equal to a peon will be associated with the verbal codes of a peon’s level in language codes. This is not something that can be conceptualised in English. I am referring to the English language, not England itself. England’s case would need to be addressed separately.

The word to note here is samatwam (equality). This word exists in English as equality. However, in English communication, this word rarely carries significant relevance. This is because, in English, communication that is not equal exists only to a very slight degree.

For instance, even when the word Sir is used, Mr. is typically placed before a name. Moreover, the moment words like You, Your, Yours, He, His, or Him are used, communication, human personality, social status, and occupational position all return to a level plane. English speakers have no knowledge of a state otherwise. Thus, the term equality lacks significant relevance in the English language.

The equality they focus on is something less rigid, which I won’t delve into now.

In feudal languages, however, the concept of samatwam (equality) is a profound one. We often hear claims from various quarters that “we are all one.” Yet, in places where samatwam is strongly proclaimed, individuals are, in reality, divided into different levels through verbal codes.

It seems that the concept of rural areas, as found in many other Indian states, no longer exists in Kerala today. Over the past twenty years, Kerala’s interiors have seen the rise of large buildings, tarred roads, supermarkets, and, more recently, shopping malls. Kerala is a narrow coastal strip along the Arabian Sea, facing Arabian countries.

Generally speaking, in feudal languages, the status of a locality is overlaid with the hierarchical coding of the language.

I won’t discuss English-speaking nations here.

In every major city of a feudal language country, there are high-value areas and, progressively, areas of lesser value. When addressing or referring to people living in these different areas, the verbal codes may not immediately reflect a lowering or elevation. Nevertheless, a rise or fall in value exists invisibly in the backstage of the mental sphere. This phenomenon is not possible in English, as its verbal codes lack such elevation or diminution.

When I was in Delhi, I realised that residing in Defence Colony adds significant value to one’s personality. This also facilitates various high-level conveniences in professional settings.

This is not the main point I intend to elaborate on now, though it may be related to what I’m about to discuss.

To illustrate, I’ll use the following example, though other illustrations could also be provided.

In the social atmosphere of Trivandrum, there is the presence of the royal palace (Kowdiar Palace), the Secretariat, ministers’ residences, MLA quarters, IAS and IPS officers, various government secretaries, department heads, and others, down to those engaged in small-scale jobs.

The presence of those in high authority establishes significant value and elevation in verbal codes and, consequently, in the design codes of the intrinsic software system.

This affects and influences every individual living in Trivandrum, to a greater or lesser extent.

When asked, “Where do you live?” responding with “Trivandrum” can evoke an image of great heights in both the questioner and the listener, especially if both are from some interior part of Kerala.

To sharpen this point, I’ll provide another illustration.

A middle-aged businessman with good knowledge, English proficiency, and financial capability moves to Trivandrum from a rural area. There, he reconnects with a prominent Trivandrum-based businessman who was a former classmate.

This classmate has acquaintances across Trivandrum’s social spectrum, from the lowest to the highest levels. He could introduce this person to a government peon, a police constable, a circle clerk, a district officer, a department head, or even higher-ranking IAS/IPS officers.

If this person is introduced at a particular social level, it becomes very difficult for them to break free or move away from that level later. This is because, in Trivandrum, most government officials are addressed as * Saar*.

If this person is introduced to a middle-aged head constable or ASI and forms a close bond, the officials will address him by name or nee (lowest you), maintaining a warm relationship. This is, to an extent, a source of support and strength. However, it also acts as a significant social restraint. This restraint prevents substantial upward or downward social mobility.

This is because the person then moves within the social circle of that level. Those above will perceive him as belonging to that “caste.”

The prominent businessman evaluates his old classmate. He has exceptional English proficiency, comes from a wealthy family in his hometown, has a wife from an affluent family, enjoys good financial standing, lives in an upscale area of Trivandrum (behind the Secretariat), owns an expensive car, and employs domestic help.

Moreover, this person’s business does not compete with his own.

After careful consideration, the classmate decides to place this person on a path to social prominence. He chooses to introduce him to a renowned Trivandrum doctor, which sets him on a specific social trajectory.

The introduction is made by a prominent businessman, not someone of lower status. This itself is a significant coding on the path.

In the evening, the person and his wife are introduced to the doctor’s family at their home. On another day, the classmate secures membership for him at an exclusive Trivandrum club, reserved for prominent individuals. The doctor is also a member. Gradually, the person forms a close bond with the doctor, and they mostly converse in English.

The doctor finds this friendship agreeable. The person’s presence is not unappealing. The doctor introduces him to an IAS officer from another state, with whom he is acquainted. They too converse in English, addressing each other by name alone. Thus, the IAS officer becomes an acquaintance. At the IAS officer’s home, the person meets other IAS and IPS officers, who also value a close connection with a prominent businessman.

Feudal language regions are like deep wells atop a dry mountain, representing their social structure.

The progression is akin to performing a death-defying motorcycle stunt inside a well, starting from halfway down its depth.

The motorcycle spirals upward towards the heights.

Similarly, this person who arrived in Trivandrum spirals rapidly towards social prominence.

While such a pathway exists in Trivandrum, it is not available in Kerala’s interiors. Nevertheless, the social structure there is also like a deep well atop a dry mountain.

However, the rural society might look like this:

Small-scale landowners and modest large-scale traders are few in number. Then there are doctors, small-scale traders, teachers, government clerks, police constables, and other government peons, also limited in number. The majority are small-scale workers. The rural society truly belongs to them. While those above maintain distance, they interact with them daily.

A new person arrives in this society and reconnects with a known landowner. The landowner could introduce him to other landowners, but this is not easy, as regular meetings with them are rare. Instead, the landowner introduces him to a financially capable building contractor with whom he is well-acquainted.

The contractor takes him to familiar venues, one being an evening card-playing spot. There, the person meets a middle-aged schoolteacher, a police constable, a KSRTC bus driver, and others. As the acquaintance extends towards private bus workers, auto drivers, and the like, those like the schoolteacher, constable, and bus driver discourage it. Casual acquaintance is fine, but they warn against forming bonds involving mutual use of nee (lowest you) or first names.

The point to note is that while all are human, in feudal languages, a hierarchical blanket of verbal codes envelops the designation of “human.” This cannot be ignored or denied. Though not a visible blanket, it is a very clear and noticeable physical reality.

As stated earlier, feudal language regions are like deep wells atop a dry mountain.

The experience of the person who arrived in the rural area is also like performing a death-defying motorcycle stunt from halfway down the well’s depth. The motorcycle spirals downward.

This is exactly what happens to this person.

The details of these matters will be covered in the next writing.

[VED]

Image details: Upward Spiral / Downward Spiral
Author: Davo Sime, AU
Licence: Creative Commons (CC)

The first image in the previous writing illustrates spiralling upward through social connections to reach the level of the socially elite. Similarly, the second image depicts spiralling downward into the realm of the socially inferior.

While English societies also have individuals in high positions, the phenomenon of indicant word codes—unique to feudal languages—does not exist in English. Therefore, the mental experience of being elevated or diminished by verbal codes, as depicted in these illustrations, is not possible in English.

In feudal languages, human relationships themselves carry immense power to pull, elevate, or diminish individuals. A simple statement like, “This is the doctor’s son,” “This is the SP’s friend,” or “This is the teacher,” can suffice. The verbal codes associated with the referenced person increase in value, and the individual’s personality spirals upward.

Conversely, in the midst of socially elite groups like doctors in a rural setting, introducing someone warmly with affection can have the opposite effect: “Don’t you know him? This is the relative of our coconut climber Kittan’s uncle. He’s a clever chap.” That’s enough. The person’s entire status collapses. The doctor and others may not immediately show disgust, but the verbal codes have been poisoned, and damage has been done in the intrinsic software platforms.

In feudal languages, it is easy to conceal venomous fangs within affectionate, friendly words. There’s no need for blame, criticism, slander, or accusations. Even positive remarks can deliver a sting.

The point is that English address and reference words are free of such venomous taint.

Returning to the earlier discussion about locality: for middle-class individuals in cities, retired minor government officials, and others, reluctance to relocate to rural areas stems partly from this. It’s not just the personal connections they form in villages, but the fact that having a rural address may feel like a significant diminishment, to an extent.

However, this is a complex matter. In feudal languages, verbal codes operate through intricate networks, affecting individuals in multifaceted ways. Generally, caste, customs, locality, and profession interact in highly complex ways, automatically defining and anchoring an individual to a specific caste-like status.

At this juncture, let’s revisit Sir H. Risley’s words:

Idea: It is permissible for men to marry women from lower castes, but women cannot marry men from lower castes. Moreover, children born to lower-caste women must exist as a separate caste, thereby preserving the racial purity of higher-caste individuals.

I had long wanted to write about the invisible yet powerful connection between feudal languages and marital relationships. I intended to address this when discussing marriage-related matters, but since this quote has surfaced, I’ll touch on a few points now. The complexities of marital life cannot be fully explored here, as they are tied to matters of the mind, which I hope to address in a future writing.

Today, many are aware of honour killing, defined as “murder to protect honour.” It has been discussed in the Western world and English-speaking countries, often in the context of Islamic nations like Pakistan. However, it is deeply embedded in the feudal languages of South Asia.

If Namboodiris, Makkathayam Theeyas, Wariers, Ezhavas, Nairs, Malayas, Pulayas, Pariahs, Marumakkathayam Theeyas, or Cherumars wish to preserve their lineage purity, there is no fault in that.

Such thinking exists among many communities worldwide. Alongside preserving lineage purity, maintaining distinct social behaviours, customs, manners, refined dining etiquette, spiritual beliefs, and more without blemish is a desire of some groups, and there’s no fault in that. This is not limited to Jews but extends to many continental Europeans, the English, and even high-status Arabs who uphold lineage purity.

Reading Sir H. Risley’s words might initially suggest that he observed a lineage purity issue in Malabar, Travancore, and South Asia. However, the matter is not so trivial.

In South Asia, what makes marital relationships acceptable or repulsive is not primarily tied to lineage purity. If it were, Namboodiris had a remedy for centuries: children born to Shudra women would live as Nairs, a separate caste. These children, born of Brahmin blood, gained significant social elevation. Verbal codes compelled and induced lower castes to perceive divinity in them, yet they could never become Brahmins.

This is an old practice. With the arrival of the English administration, Brahmins became akin to IPS officers in a disbanded Indian police force. Without the official structure granting authority, former police constables would not salute IPS officers. Instead, as a Nair leader reportedly said about Namboodiris, “There’s no need to cower before them anymore.”

The phenomenon of performing a death-defying motorcycle stunt in a deep well atop a dry mountain also applies to marital relationships in feudal language societies. One can spiral upward or plummet downward.

For this reason, arranged marriage is an essential and imperative practice in South Asian feudal language societies. A key component is marriage prospecting. Though termed vivahalochan in Malayalam, it is a meticulous process of determining whether someone is suitable to connect with one’s family.

I plan to discuss a few related points and continue this in the next writing.

[VED]

In a feudal language society, marriage (vivaham or kalyānam) is deeply intertwined with language codes. While there are numerous aspects to discuss, delving into all of them now would make it difficult to restrain the flow of words.

Still, I’ll briefly touch on some points. Feudal language marriages are fundamentally different from English language marriages. Firstly, in Malayalam, a husband is defined by terms like chettan (elder brother), annan (elder brother), ichāyan (elder brother), or ikka (elder brother) in relation to his wife. In Malabari dialects, terms like ettān, ingal, or ōr are used.

Conversely, for the husband, the wife is referred to by her first name, nee (lowest you), edee (lowest you, feminine), aval (lowest she), or pennu (girl) in Malayalam. In Malabari, terms include the first name, inji (lowest you), edee, alē (lowest she), ōl (lowest she), or pennu.

This is one aspect. More importantly, in feudal languages, these married individuals are affixed to a vast canvas of social hierarchy.

The husband’s father, mother, maternal uncle, aunt, elder siblings, and other older relatives all perceive themselves as entitled to address the wife by her first name, nee, edee, aval, or pennu. The wife, in turn, is expected to express varying degrees of subservience by using appropriate honorifics when addressing each of them.

Similarly, the wife’s father, mother, maternal uncle, aunt, elder siblings, and other older relatives consider themselves entitled to address the husband by his first name, nee, eda (lowest you, masculine), or avan (lowest he). The husband, likewise, is expected to show subservience by using suitable honorifics.

In Malabari dialects, the pattern is similar, with slight variations in terminology.

From the perspective of English marital relationships, this is a stark contrast. In local feudal language societies, this dynamic is as natural as atmospheric pressure—a constant, unremarkable reality. No one perceives it as strange because all human relationships in feudal languages, when viewed through an English lens, are inherently peculiar.

Many aspects related to marital life are clamouring to be expressed, but they cannot be unleashed here. Doing so would derail this writing, making it impossible to bring it back on track.

In the past, caste-based definitions likely provided clear pathways and boundaries for marital relationships. Today, these pathways have lost clarity, but I won’t delve into that now.

Returning to the concept of varying levels of human equality in contemporary society, as discussed in previous writings, I’ll use government officials for illustrative clarity:

IAS/IPS
DySP
CI/SI
ASI/Head Constable/Constable/Peon
Ordinary people with no social prominence

These represent different levels of equality in a local feudal language society.

Assume that every individual or family in society is aligned with one of these levels of equality. A person at level 1 marrying someone at the same level is, according to language codes, the most ideal and desirable scenario. Here, “ideal” does not refer solely to the relationship between husband and wife. In reality, their bond is a minor aspect. The term “ideal” pertains to the broader interests of both families’ extended networks.

Consider a scenario where a man from level 1 marries a woman from level 3—say, an individual equivalent to an IAS/IPS marrying someone equivalent to a peon. Assume there are no significant issues between them. Where, then, lies the problem?

The level 1 individual could be a landowner, a wealthy person, an industrialist, or similar. For clarity, let’s say he is the son of a senior IPS officer in the state, marrying the younger sister of a police constable who is seven years his senior.

This marriage can be likened to a Brahmin marrying a Shudra woman in the past. If so, there’s no major issue. The children born would have no connection to the father’s family, and the wife’s family would treat the groom with great respect, as they would a Namboodiri, showing requisite subservience.

If the IPS officer’s son possesses significant social status, wealth, and property, he can, to an extent, retain a position akin to a Namboodiri of old. However, if this lofty social pedestal crumbles for any reason, causing a slight social decline, problems arise. I won’t explore that now.

In a typical marital scenario, the wife’s elder brother, the police constable, would address the IPS officer’s son as nee or avan. With greater familiarity, he might affectionately use eda. This ability to use such terms allows the constable to project significant prestige and arrogance in social and official settings.

The wife’s father, mother, maternal uncle, aunt, elder siblings, and other older relatives all feel entitled to address the husband by his first name, nee, eda, or avan. If asked what the issue is, the response would be that in feudal language societies, everything hinges on this.

In such societies, words introduce, present, and, to an extent, sustain hierarchical positions.

Recall the earlier discussion of spiralling upward to social heights or downward to social lows, like a death-defying motorcycle stunt in a deep well atop a dry mountain. This is precisely what occurs in the marriage described above.

An individual equivalent to an IAS/IPS marries someone equivalent to a peon. For the groom, this results in a downward spiral. It’s akin to switching on a kitchen mixer—within moments of the marriage, a single twist sends him plummeting toward the dustbin.

Conversely, for the wife’s family, it’s an upward spiral, as if the mixer’s single twist propels them to a higher status.

Readers should not only note the presence of indicant word codes in this social scenario but also understand that these codes create distinct levels of equality in society. These parallel equality tiers have clear hierarchical positions. Ignoring their prohibitions or resisting their pressures can impact many others connected to the individuals, positively or negatively.

Another point is that the social positions in this illustration are relative. A police constable is a modern equivalent of a Nair in the past. For many ordinary people, a constable is akin to a thampurān (lord), and his wife a thampurātti (lady). This is how things work in feudal languages. Grand ideologies falter helplessly before these language codes.

Though much has been said here, I haven’t addressed the mechanisms driving honour killing. That will be deferred to the next writing, as excessive words may burden the reader.

[VED]

In feudal languages, the phenomenon of indicant word codes exists within words. Additionally, these languages create distinct tiers of social equality.

Feudal language word codes create an aura of radiance around high-status individuals—an invisible yet socially palpable effect. This positively influences how others behave toward them, fostering obedience, sincerity, punctuality, respect, and value for their words in society.

Conversely, the same languages negatively impact individuals defined by lower-tier indicant word codes, affecting these same aspects in a detrimental way.

However, the positioning within these language codes is entirely relative. A person deemed low-status in one context may be respected in another. For instance, a police constable, akin to a Nair in the past, is insignificant before a Brahmin but a thampurān (lord) to the lower classes. Similarly, a constable is a thampurān to ordinary people.

Now, to the main point. An illustrative example will clarify:

Using government officials as an example enhances clarity, as their occupational hierarchy has distinct layers. However, complexities beyond this structure exist. For instance, a commissioned military officer’s daughter marries the son of a prominent industrialist who was once a lowly soldier but now owns a leading commercial enterprise in India. To avoid such complexities, I’ll focus solely on government occupational tiers.

Consider a college professor, a government employee earning around one lakh rupees monthly, addressed as Saar by others. Years of social prestige, like wind, rain, and sun chiselling a rock, inscribe a distinct social elevation on his face, body, and demeanour.

His siblings include a corporate CEO in Bombay, a doctor, an IAS officer, a Gulf businessman, and others of high status. His daughter, a mechanical engineering student, falls in love with a classmate’s brother, a medical student from the same caste. Their relationship culminates in marriage. The bride secures a job as an engineer in a major private firm. There’s no significant status disparity between the couple, and the groom is highly capable, with strong general and technical knowledge.

The groom gained medical admission through caste-based reservation, which poses no issue. However, his father is an auto driver, and many of his relatives are defined by lower-tier word codes compared to the professor’s family.

When the bride, now a doctor’s wife, is in their presence, they address her with diminishing terms like nee, aval, edee, or her first name. They seize the opportunity to use these terms, as do the groom’s father, mother, uncles, aunts, elder siblings, and others of lower social standing. This isn’t a problem for the bride, as she entered the marriage knowingly. However, enduring this daily is a minor issue.

Avoiding or distancing oneself from such verbal assaults is preferable. Otherwise, like wind, rain, and sun eroding a rock, the social diminishment will gradually manifest in the professor’s daughter’s face, body, demeanour, confidence, and self-esteem. A once gentle, soft-spoken woman may begin speaking loudly, harshly, or startlingly.

This phenomenon doesn’t exist in English. Regardless of one’s profession, terms like You, Your, Yours, He, His, Him, She, Her, or Hers remain unchanged. This is significant. No feudal language word carries such steadfast power; English words are immovable, like resisting a bulldozer.

Yet, in feudal languages, a slight lowering in introductions can destabilize, sending one tumbling toward the social abyss with alarming speed. While we may boast about the beauty and variety of our language’s words, I won’t dwell on that now.

The auto driver’s family knows the doctor’s wife is foolish for marrying into their fold. A sensible person wouldn’t entangle themselves in such diminishing word-code chains. Her non-verbal signals of superiority may breed resentment, but her presence delights them, as she facilitates their connection to higher social strata.

However, they don’t feel inferior. They never needed to address the professor’s elite relatives with honorifics, as they were unaware of them or had no need to reference them.

For high-status individuals, being addressed as equals or demeaned by those they consider inferior is intolerable, especially if it becomes routine. Yet, the real disruption to mental equilibrium comes from the damage to their social address. Shifting from being defined as the relative of a professor, doctor, or senior official to the kin of an auto driver, shopkeeper, domestic worker, or coconut climber is unbearable. They lament, “Because of that fool, our honour is lost; we can’t even face society.”

If the auto driver and his kin visit the professor’s home regularly to strengthen ties, other relatives may stop visiting. An older auto driver, his wife, or their children—engaged in jobs defined as low-status in feudal languages—addressing the professor’s relatives with nee, than, avan, or aval in the guest room feels like a stone crushing their heads.

Lower-status individuals eagerly seek equality with those above them, as it enhances their intrinsic software platforms’ value. A marriage alone rarely allows the lower-tier to subjugate the higher-tier through word codes; instead, an uneasy communication atmosphere persists.

Yet, lower-status individuals await opportunities for equality. If the higher-status person weakens, the lower-tier’s presence doesn’t bolster them but exacerbates their social decline. Simultaneously, this feels like a great advantage to the lower-tier.

A clear example: a young relative of the professor is arrested. Being the professor’s nephew grants him leverage at the police station. But if an auto driver present there introduces himself and, with affection, tells the police the youth is his relative, it worsens the situation.

The writing’s opening stated:

QUOTE: Feudal language word codes create an invisible yet socially tangible aura of radiance around high-status individuals, positively influencing others’ behaviour, obedience, sincerity, punctuality, respect, and the value given to their words. END OF QUOTE

QUOTE: Conversely, these languages negatively affect individuals defined by lower-tier word codes. END OF QUOTE

Today’s writing clarified these social aspects, but the reality is more complex. In feudal languages, the presence, sight, touch, thought, or disrespectful reference to lower-status individuals causes significant value erosion in one’s intrinsic software codes.

This is a minor phenomenon in English.

I can’t delve deeper here, but consider this scenario: An IAS officer at a modest venue notices a childhood friend visiting. He feels joy, but then sees his peon warmly shaking hands and patting the friend’s shoulder, both addressing each other as nee, being from the same village. The IAS officer, witnessing this, is likely to feel distanced from his friend.

If the IAS officer hadn’t seen this, what then? In feudal languages, contact with a lower-status person diminishes intrinsic code values. This is the core reason for caste-based distancing, repulsion, and untouchability in this subcontinent.

In the past, if a Pulayan touched a Nair, Ambalavasi, or Namboodiri woman during pulappidi māsam, and her relatives learned of it, they might kill her, believing something negative would infiltrate them through her. If undetected, some women fled to live with Pulayans. Others were seized by the king and sold to Chetti traders. Later, many sought refuge in lower-caste Christian movements.

Can we say things are very different today? Some still plan to kill those who tarnish their social address. Imagine an IPS officer being demeaned as a DySP, SI, or constable—a nightmare akin to marrying a socially inferior person.

This is the clear reason behind what is now called honour killing. It affects Hindus (including Brahmins), other groups absorbed into Hinduism, Christians, and Muslims, with slight variations.

For example, many in the new generation of lower-caste Christians may be unaware of their distant ties to Travancore’s former slave communities. Some even believe they are Syriac Christians. Other Christian groups may know this history. I once witnessed a young woman from another Christian sect marry a lower-caste Christian out of love, leading to chaos. Her relatives refused to reconcile them. I don’t know what followed.

Such complex personal relationships exist in society.

One point omitted: in feudal languages, individuals from vastly different social strata can act like a computer virus in certain social settings. I’ll try to elaborate on this in the next writing, if possible.

The writing must now return to Malabar.

[VED]

In feudal language societies and institutions, including educational ones, every individual experiences a vertical mental state of hierarchical highs and lows. Those at the lower end perceive those at the top as standing on a towering pillar, far out of sight.

For example, to a person in a menial job, a police DGP is at such a height. The DGP is many steps above the nee–Saar divide. Conversely, to the DGP, this menial worker is akin to the lowest police constable, addressed as nee, eda, or avan—essentially someone at the bottom, like a dustbin dweller, etched in the DGP’s mind.

Such depth and height in society cannot be created by the English language. This refers specifically to the language itself.

These points have been discussed earlier. What follows is new.

In a feudal language society, people exist at various heights. The first image in the previous post illustrates this, with each dot representing an individual. The vertical blue line on the left depicts the depth and height of society.

Now, the key point: each individual oscillates personally within this hierarchy. This is a critical phenomenon.

In feudal languages, everyone experiences this. For instance, a revered spiritual guru, addressed with great respect by many, is still defined as nee, avan, or eda by their parents, maternal uncle, aunt, older relatives, or former schoolteachers.

This oscillation between high and low is universal in feudal language speakers but absent in native English speakers.

Let’s explore the extent of this oscillation.

Consider a son of an IAS officer father and a high-ranking professional mother, himself an IPS officer. He receives great respect in most settings. However, his family addresses him with diminishing terms. Since his family holds high social status, their lowering words only slightly diminish him socially, pulling him just below his father’s kin.

The image from the previous post illustrates this personal rise-and-fall dynamic, marked as “1” to denote this limited oscillation.

This rise-and-fall has a defined range. The highest point is just above the most respected person who honours you. If the most prominent local figure respects you daily, you stand at the pinnacle. Conversely, your lowest point is defined by the socially lowest person who addresses you with diminishing terms.

When ascending socially or professionally, many sever ties with lower-status connections from their past to reduce the downward pull of this oscillation.

A respected person (adheham, avar, chettan, Saar, Madam) and an unrespected one (nee, avan, aval, eda, edee) are distinct personalities in feudal languages. The respected person often exhibits capability, authority, efficiency, and value in their words, speaking softly and with composure. The diminished person may speak loudly, behave roughly, or lack refinement.

However, this isn’t absolute, as the reality is more complex, which I won’t delve into now.

When a high-status individual marries into a lower-status family, their personality may reflect this duality—elevated on one side, diminished on the other—in the design view of their intrinsic software systems.

Similarly, a low-status person marrying into a high-status family, or securing a high government post, or a high-status person engaging in low-status jobs or friendships defined by diminishing word codes, may experience a downward personality pull.

This pull can stretch from the heights to the social depths, as depicted in the second image, marked as “2.”

The third image, marked “3,” represents a socially low-status individual. They, too, receive respect at their level—addressed as chettan, ammavan, etc.—but are also defined as nee, avan, or eda by others at their level, like parents, siblings, or teachers.

This upward-downward personality pull is absent in English. If it exists, it doesn’t reflect in terms like You, Your, Yours, He, His, Him, She, Her, or Hers, which don’t create such dynamics.

Around 2000, a local official in northern Malabar told me about a young man working in a high corporate position in Bombay. Fluent in English with a prestigious MBA, he travelled by plane. Yet, the official was shocked that this man had no value in his hometown.

In some wealthy households, domestic workers raise children, addressing them as nee, eda, edee, mone, or mole, and introducing them similarly. These children, trapped by diminishing word codes, struggle to break free. Such words, when applied to high-status individuals, are seen as a means of personality elevation for the speaker, who rarely relinquishes this privilege. Some who rise from such backgrounds distance themselves from these past ties.

Conversely, some families consciously shield their children from such diminishing language.

This phenomenon doesn’t exist in English.

Experiencing this high-low pull daily can cause significant mental stress for some. Others navigate it, using cunning verbal tactics to cope.

During British rule in this subcontinent, Eurasians—often Anglo-Indians or those with European or Celtic ancestry—were a defined group. Many spoke English, exuding a personality elevated by the language’s mental prestige, but often lacked familial, economic, or social elevation. Their mother’s family, neighbours, or community, often low-status, addressed them with diminishing terms, causing a similar upward-downward personality pull.

In Edgar Thurston’s Castes and Tribes of Southern India (Volume 2), a related observation is noted:

QUOTE: Writing concerning the prevalence of insanity in different classes, the Census Commissioner, 1891, states that “it appears from the statistics that insanity is far more prevalent among the Eurasians than among any other class...” The subject seems to be one worthy of further study by those competent to deal with it.

This quote was referenced earlier (Vol 3 - 44: Mental disorders from the oscillation of word codes).

The “computer virus” effect mentioned in the previous post—where certain individuals seem to disrupt social settings—will be addressed in the next writing, if possible.

[VED]

I intend to discuss the point raised in the previous post about how “certain individuals may create the impression of a computer virus.” There’s a concern that this writing might veer off track, but since the topic of intrinsic software has emerged, ignoring it to move forward would be meaningless.

I admit my knowledge of computer languages used to create software is limited, yet I proceed with this writing.

The points I’m about to discuss have been mentioned in some of my books and elaborated clearly in others. The relevant books are listed below:

MARCH of the EVIL EMPIRES; ENGLISH versus the FEUDAL LANGUAGES (Part 5), published in 2002 (first draft in 1989)

Software codes of Reality, Life and Languages!, published in 2007

Codes of reality! What is language?, published in 2010

The machinery of Homoeopathy!, published in 2014

Software codes of mantra, tantra, witchcraft, black magic, evil eye, evil tongue &c., published in 2016

Around 1985, I first saw a computer and observed its operations. Back then, there was no mouse, and interaction with computers occurred through BASIC language. By typing precise English commands via the keyboard, the computer would execute them.

Some commands from the early BASIC language, developed in 1963, include:

HELLO — log in
BYE — log off
BASIC — start BASIC mode
NEW — name and begin writing a program
OLD — retrieve a previously named program from permanent storage
LIST — display the current program
SAVE — save the current program in permanent storage
UNSAVE — clear the current program from permanent storage
CATALOG — display the names of programs in permanent storage
SCRATCH — erase the current program without clearing its name
RENAME — change the name of the current program without erasing it
RUN — execute the current program
STOP — interrupt the currently running program
[Source: Bellis, Mary. "The History of the BASIC Programming Language." ThoughtCo, Jan. 27, 2019]

Before this, computers received input via thick cards with punched holes, called punch cards, which the computer read to process information, perhaps akin to how blind individuals read Braille. I’m not certain.

Over time, computer languages grew more complex, then highly sophisticated. The mouse was invented, with left and right clicks encoding different commands, equivalent to those written in computer languages.

Even so, explaining software to someone unfamiliar with the subject is challenging. Around 1998, a young acquaintance of CPS, working as a computer operator in the Gulf, was asked what software is. He described it as “packages,” mentioning computer typing, DTP, and related tasks. He was referring to applications like MS Word, not the fundamental concept of software.

While electricity powers a computer, it merely switches it on and sustains it. Beyond that, software drives the computer’s operations.

What is software? I’m not providing a formal definition but an explanation. A computer has two components: hardware and software. Hardware includes tangible components like the hard disk and processor. Software is an invisible force or entity that operates them. This isn’t a definition but a way to describe it.

Software is a collection of instructions. The computer’s processor reads these instructions and performs tasks accordingly. Often, it reads instructions, performs simple mathematical calculations, follows logical directives step-by-step, and outputs results individually or collectively, or feeds them into more complex software processes.

I won’t delve into how processors read and execute these instructions.

For simplicity, consider this:
If a + b > 5, turn left.
If a + b < 5, turn right.
If a + b = 5, do nothing.

This is written in English. Such logical statements or requirements might be the starting point for creating software, though I’m not certain. Still, it helps readers understand.

Now, consider that a computer processes billions of such statements, far more complex, at lightning speed. These instructions, executed step-by-step or by jumping between steps, produce the operations, colors, sounds, files, and more we see on computers and smartphones.

Below are a few statements from a Java program, though I don’t fully understand their purpose:

java
import java.io.File;
import java.io.IOException;
import java.util.Map;
import java.util.Scanner;
import java.util.TreeMap;

public class SimpleWordCounter {

public static void main(String[] args) {
try {
File f = new File("ciaFactBook2008.txt");
Scanner sc;
sc = new Scanner(f);
// sc.useDelimiter("[^a-zA-Z']+");
Map<String, Integer> wordCount = new TreeMap<String, Integer>();
while(sc.hasNext()) {
String word = sc.next();
if(!wordCount.containsKey(word))
wordCount.put(word, 1);
else
wordCount.put(word, wordCount.get(word) + 1);

Below are some C program code snippets:
c
#include <stdio.h>
int main() {
int n, i;
unsigned long long fact = 1;
printf("Enter an integer: ");
scanf("%d", &n);
// shows error if the user enters a negative integer
if (n < 0)
printf("Error! Factorial of a negative number doesn't exist.");
else {
for (i = 1; i <= n; ++i) {
fact *= i;

Note that these are written in English. How a computer processor interprets such instruction lists is the next topic, which I’ll defer to the next writing.

[VED]

I have very limited knowledge about the inner workings of computers. This writing is based on that limited understanding, which readers should keep in mind.

The true secrets of computer operations lie with the industries that manufacture them. These are closely guarded, highly confidential commercial secrets.

Computers commonly use something known as binary digits or binary code, which is easy to understand.

Humans have ten fingers, which likely led to our use of the decimal system (0 to 9, then 10 to 19, and so on, scaling to 10, 100, 1000). If we used letters (a, b, c, ..., z), the 27^th digit would restart, similar to how 10 follows 9 in decimal. This is slightly complex, so I won’t delve into it.

Computers primarily use the binary numeric system, with only two digits: 0 and 1. There’s also the hexadecimal system (16 digits), but I won’t cover that here.

The binary system resembles Braille, used by the visually impaired. Braille represents English letters using a pattern of six raised dots on paper. Some positions have dots, others don’t, and trained individuals can read these patterns by touch, quickly interpreting words and sentences. My understanding of Braille is limited, but having spent time with visually impaired individuals, I’ve seen their ability to rapidly read Braille by running their fingers over the text. I may share a related anecdote later.

In computers, the binary system (0 and 1) is typically interpreted through voltage levels. A low voltage might represent 0, and a standard voltage 1, though other methods may exist—I’m not certain.

By continuously reading a sequence of high and low voltages, a computer interprets letters, words, and sentences.

To simplify, consider an old gramophone (phonograph). A record spins at a specific speed, with sounds encoded as ridges and grooves. A needle tracing these produces audible music or recordings. Similarly, older computer hard disks spun at 4,500 to 7,200 RPM, with a needle-like mechanism reading high and low voltage patterns encoded on them to interpret data. I’m unsure if modern computers still operate this way, as technology advances rapidly.

Now, let’s focus on binary digits:
a: 01100001, A: 01000001
b: 01100010, B: 01000010
c: 01100011, C: 01000011
d: 01100100, D: 01000100

English letters are represented in binary as shown above, with numbers and other symbols similarly encoded.

Typing “Come” on a computer is read as: 01000011 01101111 01101101 01100101, interpreted through sequences of high and low voltages.

Next, I’ll discuss machine language, but that will be in the following post.

[VED]

This writing is based on fragmented knowledge gained from continuous computer use since around 1998. Thus, it may lack authenticity, technical precision, and depth. However, the purpose isn’t to teach computer technology but to highlight the connection between intrinsic software platforms and human languages.

The discussion here focuses on standard hard disk computers.

Typing the word “Come” translates to binary digits: 01000011 01101111 01101101 01100101. As the hard disk spins rapidly, this is encoded as low and high voltages. Alone, this doesn’t seem to convey much to the computer.

However, the hard disk spins at high speeds—over 100 rotations per second—allowing millions of simple, complex, and highly intricate messages to be processed. These include precise calculations, constraints, logical conditions, and step-by-step actions, forming a dynamic sequence.

Binary digits can be added, subtracted, multiplied, or divided within this binary world, which seems to be the realm of machine language.

Regarding hard disk speed, it’s not truly “high” in a broader context. For instance, one second is defined as the duration of 9,192,631,770 cycles of radiation. In the world of radiation waves, 9,192,631,770 events occur in a single second. I won’t delve deeper into that.

From my observations, a functioning computer comprises three distinct elements: (1) hardware (hard disk, processor, monitor, fan, etc.), (2) electric current powering it, and (3) software, which gives the computer life, mind, and intelligence. Though distinct, these three work together to create a functioning computer.

Now, to enhance machine language efficiency, hexadecimal digits are used instead of binary. Hexadecimal has 16 digits (0–9, then A–F), reducing code length. For example, “Come” in hexadecimal is 43 6f 6d 65, compared to binary’s 01000011 01101111 01101101 01100101.

This is easy to grasp. Using letters (a, b, c, ..., z) instead of numbers allows large values to be represented with fewer digits. For instance, 99 is the highest 2 digit number. But “zz,” is 26² (676). Similarly, 999 versus “zzz” (26³ = 17,576). Including uppercase letters allows even larger numbers to be encoded compactly. I’ll leave this point here.

Machine language assigns codes not only to words but to everything, including colors:

Red: Hex: #FF0000, Binary: 11111111
Blue: Hex: #0000FF
Yellow: Hex: #FFFF00
Crimson: Hex: #DC143C

When billions of machine language codes interact and produce specific codes as results, corresponding colors, sounds, words, or numbers appear. If you have a computer with Adobe Photoshop, opening the Color Picker shows how hex codes change with each selected color (see the provided image).

I won’t elaborate further on this process here.

One final point to conclude: directly writing machine language instructions for computers is challenging for humans. Programming languages like C++, Java, and Python—higher-level languages—enable humans to write logic, calculations, and programs. Some code snippets from these were shown earlier. These languages include libraries—pre-written code sets for specific functions—that can be reused or partially copied, facilitating the creation of increasingly complex programs.

Crucially, computer hardware operates strictly within physical world laws. However, the software realm is different. Anything conceivable through logic can be envisioned and created in this world. These programs are then converted into machine language for computers to process, a complex task. Only after this conversion can they be executed.

Additionally, binary digits (e.g., 01000011 01101111 01101101 01100101) can be converted to hexadecimal (e.g., 43 6f 6d 65) and vice versa, or potentially into other unknown code systems. Binary and hexadecimal digits can also be added, subtracted, multiplied, or divided, each with its own rules.

Behind today’s computers lies an invisible universe of billions of such digits. Yet, calling them merely “digits” may not be entirely accurate. They are creations within the limits of current human knowledge. As knowledge and capabilities expand, these systems and perspectives may evolve.

[VED]

Watching computer games, seeing individuals within them engage in various activities, fighting each other, and so forth, I have heard some people say, a few years ago, that the universe, humanity, and other things are something like this.

Around 2005, I wrote a few pieces pointing towards such ideas on a British forum page. Those writings were later published as a digital book titled Software Codes of Reality, Life and Languages on several international websites.

It seems that those writings did not mention computer games at all. Instead, they discussed many seemingly unrelated, fragmented observations. I cannot precisely recall what they were today, as there is usually no time to revisit completed books.

I am 100 percent certain that the universe, reality, the phenomenon of life, brain function, and so forth are the result and operation of a vast ultra-subtle software system. I may later explain how this certainty took root in my mind.

The subject here is that "some individuals may give the impression of being infected by a kind of computer virus." That is all I aim to address now, without delving into the background of the universe. However, it seems that both the small topic mentioned first and the larger one alluded to second reside in the same hidden secret chamber of physical reality.

There is no significant difficulty in understanding that a software system, or something akin to it, lies behind the functioning of the human body, life, and intelligence.



Image owner:

It is well-known that the human body contains countless trillions of cells. Moreover, each one is a complex machinery in itself. The image provided above illustrates the components and machinery within the plasma membrane surrounding a cell. Trillions of such cells exist!

Furthermore, there are various types of cells with different functions.

What kind of control system could enable all these to function in harmony, responding and operating differently according to varying circumstances?

Since around 2004, I have tried discussing this with various individuals, both online and offline, attempting to convince them of certain points. However, until about 2011 and beyond, most doctors had little familiarity with computers or the software that drives them. Some even openly said that my perspective was childish, exaggerated nonsense born from watching computer games.

Not only did most of those who reacted this way lack substantial knowledge about how computers work, but some had not even heard of software.

The fact that only doctors qualified in relevant fields had the authority to speak authoritatively about the human body, intelligence, mental stability, and mental health was itself a significant issue. Many of them, at the time, had little understanding of what a computer was. It seems that the advent of smartphones and the widespread use of the internet have brought significant changes in this regard.

In an online conversation, I recall a US citizen slightly mocking me, saying that, having watched video games, I thought the human mind was something like computer software. This is even referred to as "wetware."

When such thoughts entered my mind around 2004, there was no need to connect them to computer games. My mind was already swirling with highly complex, intermingled information.

For example, even before 2004, in the book March of the Evil Empires: English versus the Feudal Languages, which I wrote and published, I recall including some sentences like this:

QUOTE: For there is much that needs to be understood about the various aspects and the internal nature of the software program we generally call ‘language’. I do believe with the deepest of my conviction that there is a wealth of information to be dug out from the depths of this software. END OF QUOTE

One thought swirling in my mind was this:

Consider that the human body is created by one software system and operated by another. If so, the body created by the first software system can be seen as hardware. The software that operates it can be viewed as the software of life, health, and the mind. When seen this way, the question arose in my mind: how can one address the damages and health issues that occur in the human body?

When a computer is damaged, its monitor, keyboard, hard disk, processor, fan, motherboard, and so forth may need repair. Some parts may even need replacement. This is the job of a hardware technician.

Similarly, when various damages or diseases affect the human body, an allopathic doctor can alleviate the condition with medicines or physical intervention.

However, a computer’s malfunction can also stem from software errors. In such cases, the repair must be done through the software.

It is certain that malfunctions can also occur in the software of the human body, life, and brain. When this happens, wouldn’t the solution lie in repairing the software? This thought took root in my mind.

I had never even heard of such a treatment method. It was around this time that I got the opportunity to closely observe homoeopathy. Although there are many flaws in how homoeopathy is practised today, it seems that homoeopathy might be the software-based treatment system that arose in my mind. Since around 2005, my household has rarely used allopathic medicines.

It is true that allopathy has great capabilities. However, in reality, it is homoeopathy that is likely to evolve into true modern medicine. But significant improvements are needed in its practice and practitioners. I cannot delve into that now.

In the 1970s, I recall a street vendor’s pitch saying, “In an era where modern medicines can even make jet planes fly.” I believe such capable medicines may be found in homoeopathy in the future. This is because it involves touching and manipulating the invisible yetソー yet immensely powerful fragmented codes of the ultra-subtle software system.

[VED]

I must avoid delving too deeply into the technicalities of computer operations. Therefore, I will focus only on the essentials required for the subject and proceed with the writing.

It does not seem that the human body, within the framework of ultra-subtle software systems, would be as humans currently understand or conceptualise it. The trillions of cells alone might be designed by mere small-scale code libraries within software codes. If we conceptualise reality, the human body, the phenomenon of life, the mind, emotions, and brain software in this way, what is wrong with thinking that behind and beneath it all, there are numbers akin to binary or hexadecimal—or something equivalent or alternative—operating?

When thoughts reach this point, it becomes possible to connect ideas about the influence of feudal languages to this matter. The realisation that has dawned on me is that feudal languages have different word codes capable of suppressing or elevating a person, their mind, mental standards, dignity, and emotions, even for words with the same meaning but different forms.

Words themselves may be software creations. For example, recall that the English letter "A" is represented in binary as 01000001. Similarly, it can be understood that languages, words, and scripts are created and function within an ultra-subtle software system in the framework of reality.

Consider the human body as composed of cells. Then, each of these cells is likely designed by billions of ultra-subtle software codes.

If a person lives in a feudal language environment, their personality becomes subject to an atmosphere where language codes elevate or suppress. They would have grown up experiencing the effects of these codes.

Imagine that this person’s cells are encoded in ultra-subtle software as follows:

‰ IHDR ¥ j \ŠqÄ gAMA ¯È7Šé ‰ZIDATxÚì“Ñ€ C}38‰s¸ÿq‚Ö”óòG¡!¡û:@Xb0m
EäE‹°•­Èe1Æ‚wî!âoҐ J3ϤÿT ÕQªTjúÔý^J
UJ«Z×Î|P™^ZâQ¼1wãâ#Ê$œ.hø§Õ‘tkŠªÝ=Äée¢BæAG)úÇœ«óLª°Å¶2 ³Ö‰½(H,¨»ÐÊ=pÝÈKïQäº7ò•]íÛm@£íÝÑÆîHkìØ°îPjéR•™ËHídC…TÌH«$MŸ,Œ¡„Ô1AìÍ $}ÿçfRÚ¾Ä5|

Depending on the characteristics of the feudal language spoken and understood around them, specific numerical positions in these codes would correspond to their personality, emotional standards, and social dignity.

It can be understood that addressing a worker as "chettan" (big brother) or "cheechi" (big sister) versus "nee" (lowest you) assigns distinctly different values to these numerical positions. A person raised in a feudal language would have experienced these positions oscillating up and down from childhood.

At the same time, individuals raised in flat-natured languages like pristine-English would not have pre-constructed slots or compartments in these numerical positions for such oscillations. This characteristic—or perhaps deficiency—would be reflected in their nature, personality, dignity, and mental values.

In reality, the recognition that certain critical words in feudal languages contain what can be called indicant word codes sparked my thoughts about ultra-subtle software systems decades ago. These different indicant word codes distinctly affect and influence individuals’ physical nature, mental and physical growth, appearance, mental standards, and facial expressions. This was a crucial realisation.

This insight provided me with inspiration and motivation to approach, interpret, and explain numerous aspects related to humanity from a novel perspective and viewpoint, and there is no falsehood in saying so.

[VED]

When we say that the physical reality, life, living body, mind, thoughts, feelings, emotions, and so forth that we see and experience are the result and creation of an ultra-subtle (supernatural) software system, a couple of points need to be addressed.

In this writing, I have tried to explain software through a system akin to a spinning DVD inside a computer’s hard disk. However, today, Solid State Drives (SSDs), which do not spin, are replacing the old hard disk technology in computers.

Similarly, Universal Flash Storage (UFS) is used in smart devices. It is understood that neither SSDs nor UFS have any spinning components.

Nevertheless, software is what is used in all of these.

It is also understood that software, written in programming languages by humans, is converted into machine language that computers, smartphones, and other devices can understand, still using different voltages.

This point is mentioned to highlight another matter: the concept of software is tied to the discovery of electricity. Without the discovery of electricity, we would have needed to find other ways to theorise about this phenomenon.

A couple of related points need to be made. First, before electricity was discovered, no one had clear knowledge about it. It is unknown whether, in ancient times, anyone identified the phenomenon of lightning flashing and bursting in the sky as electricity.

The discovery of electricity might have been part of a chain of serendipitous events.

Many things that have not been stumbled upon through such serendipitous chains may still remain beyond human reach. That is the first point.

If such things enter human knowledge, it is impossible to say now what the concept of software would look like.

Sir Isaac Newton is regarded as the most profound scientist the modern world has seen, due to his numerous discoveries, the scientific disciplines he pioneered, and his contributions to mathematics. Compared to Newton, Albert Einstein is merely a child. This point may be elaborated later.

Despite being such an eminent scientist, it cannot be definitively said that Isaac Newton was truly a scientist. For nearly 30 years, he devoted his mind and time to subjects beyond physical science.

It seems he was deeply engaged in what is now generally called occultism. Although the common meaning of occultism is magic, it appears Newton was attempting to uncover the machinery operating behind physical realities. The scientific world today does not highlight this, however.

This subject was fundamentally contrary to the principles of physical science. Although Newton wrote much on this, it seems no one seriously studied or understood it. The reason might be the initial perception that it was sheer nonsense (perhaps prejudice).

Today, a similar divide exists between physical science and the world of software. Even though physical objects like electricity, hard disks, keyboards, monitors, and so forth are needed to utilise and operate software, the physical world and the software universe are distinct entities.

Even if Newton had conceptualised the phenomenon of software, he would not have had substantial knowledge about it. Binary language, machine language derived from it, programming languages to approach it, and so forth were far in the distant future then.

When Newton theorised about Earth’s gravity, it was initially perceived as a great joke in the physical science community. If an object is placed in the air, who or what pulls it downward? Why does it fall? If it falls downward, why doesn’t it fall upward?

If the Earth is pulling it down, where is the rope doing the pulling? Such questions were reportedly asked by many at the time.

In truth, that rope has not been found to this day.

The reason for discussing these points is to say that the only tools we have today to provide analogies for ultra-subtle software systems are the software concepts known to humans, which are still at a very primitive level.

These are insufficient to clearly describe supernatural software systems. However, life, mind, mental emotions, physical well-being, and so forth might be clearly encoded in the design view of this ultra-subtle software system, visible to those operating within that framework. Behind this design view lies a code view. Changes made in the code view would indeed affect both the design view and physical reality.

Mental turmoil, struggles, and the massive storms caused by human languages and words in the mind and body would be clearly visible in this design view.

The word codes in feudal languages, which pull upward and downward, cause fluctuations in numerical values within the code view of ultra-subtle software. Understanding that a mysterious realm exists behind reality, the human mind, and language codes, it may be possible to address the human mind, social issues, healthcare, and more by focusing on this framework.

This seems to touch the realms of sorcery, black magic, witchcraft, and the evil eye. I won’t venture there. What if one enters and cannot come back out?

[VED]

It can be understood that this physical reality, the phenomenon of life, the mind, intelligence, and brain functions are created and operated by a supremely brilliant software phenomenon or something akin to it. This is because such things exist, and various highly complex processes occur within them.

For example, while writing this, as thoughts, words, and letters emerge in my mind line by line, and my fingers rapidly apply pressure on the keys of a computer keyboard to record them, I distinctly feel that an ultra-subtle, powerful software system is operating at lightning speed within my mind.

There is clear control and oversight in the functioning of the various organs within the body. Otherwise, they would not operate precisely along predetermined paths without any basis. The body’s organs also respond with great precision to the subtle changes occurring within.

There is no point in saying that all this is the result of baseless magic.

My firm belief is that a highly complex software system controls and oversees life, mind, intelligence, emotions, thoughts, and so forth.

The image provided above shows the human brain viewed from its base. There is a significant difference between saying that this brain is a machine running magnificent software operations and saying it is merely a place where electro-chemical processes occur.

However, convincing most doctors, physicists, psychologists, sociologists, and historians of this today is quite difficult. For most people, matters like life and the creation of the universe fall under theology. They believe humans cannot analyse such things in this manner.

If the words in this writing are not carefully limited, they might veer into topics like telepathy and the paranormal. That is not desirable now, as the writing needs to be reined in and redirected towards North Malabar.

But I can say this:

Dreams seen while sleeping contain multicoloured visuals, cinematic scenes surpassing videos made with special effects, soundtracks, and precisely crafted dialogues. For such dreams to play in the mind, if we use today’s technological knowledge, a screen would be needed, along with a media player to run the video. It might be the brain-software that sets all this up in the mind.

I will leave this topic for now. I hope to discuss it further later.

The entire human body is designed by a highly complex software system. We can assume it contains ultra-subtle codes and numbers, which likely have no connection to the codes and numbers used by humans.

In a person living in a feudal language world, the influence of these language codes would be present in all their codes. When another person addresses them with the English word “you” as "nee" (lowest you), "ningal" (middle you), or "thaankal" (highest you), these three words are received by the body’s senses and processed by the brain-software. These words are themselves codes that convey different levels of elevation or suppression.

Moreover, the same words spoken by someone higher or lower in status might convey different intensities.

Everything in the mind and body reflects the nature of each language’s codes.

For example, the English sentence “This is my wife” translates to Malayalam as “This is my wife,” but it remains a mere sentence translation.

In Malayalam, the code “wife” is encoded in a specific way within the billions of software codes of the husband’s body and mind. In Malayalam, a wife is "aval" (lowest she), and in Malabar, "olu" (lowest she). She is not "avaru" (highest she), "oru" (highest he/she), "chechi" (big sister), "adheham" (highest he), or "maadam" (highest she). The English word “she,” with its neutral stance, does not define the same person as the Malayalam “wife.”

When the wife is encoded in the husband’s billions of codes, the husband himself becomes newly entangled, connected, and linked with the codes of many others’ social positions.

For example, in cases like an IPS officer’s son marrying a policeman’s sister, or a small-scale worker’s son marrying a policeman’s (lord’s) daughter, the ups and downs in language codes might cause significant upheavals and disruptions in the codes of many individuals’ bodies and minds.

In reality, the functioning of such codes in these matters can, to some extent, be examined very meticulously. However, today, psychology, sociology, and other fields produce grand scholarly opinions, advice, and treatments without any knowledge of such matters. I will leave this topic for now.

The point this writing has reached is the statement: “Some individuals may give the impression of being infected by a kind of computer virus.” I think I can discuss this more clearly in the next piece.

[VED]

During the colonial period in South Asia, many English people felt that there was something intangible, unclear, and elusive in the social conditions and nature of this region.

When comparing this society with England’s using mere technical terms, one could see that both regions had kings or queens, royal family members, nobility, and social ranks like lords, ladies, barons, and baronesses in England, with equivalent positions found in the hundreds of kingdoms in South Asia.

When academic scholars in England and Britain conceptualised these matters, they assessed English colonial rule as a system that suppressed kingdoms in South Asia similar to England, subjugated people like the English, and enslaved them. They defined Robert Clive, who triumphantly raised the English flag in this subcontinent, as a major aggressor, plunderer, corrupt individual, and someone who amassed wealth through wrongful means.

However, Robert Clive tried to explain that South Asia was a region incomparable to England, that none of what these academic fools claimed had happened, and that nothing of the sort was happening. Yet, the ignorant scholars in England did not relent. Frustrated by unbearable accusations, Robert Clive committed suicide.

But the truth was indeed what Robert Clive had stated.

To precisely highlight South Asia’s difference, this small point is enough:

In England, a landlord’s wife refers to a female worker as “she,” and the worker reciprocates with “she” as well.

In South Asia, a landlord’s wife refers to a female worker as "aval" (lowest she) or "uss," while the worker refers to her as "avaru" (highest she) or "unn."

When social standards shift, the English word “she” does not change in the opposite direction; it remains fixed. In South Asia, however, this word shifts entirely in the opposite direction. If a female worker refers to a landlord’s wife as "aval" (lowest she), it is a clear social attack. It is as if the face of the higher person is grabbed and pushed downward.

Yet, physically, there is no visible evidence of this touching, grabbing, or pushing down. Even a camera with mega-pixel resolution cannot detect or sense this act of suppression.

But the event is real. It is something provocative enough to lead to murder. However, to an English mind observing closely, something has happened, but what exactly remains intangible, unclear, and elusive.

This illustrates a small function within South Asia’s social machinery. There was no need to mention ultra-subtle software codes to explain this.

In South Asian societies, everyone was tightly bound by the rope of extreme hierarchy. This rope equally shackled both the upper and lower castes. No one in this subcontinent could escape this rigid bondage and live freely.

On one side, there were intense anxieties, disgust, and hatred. On the other, excessive reverence for those above, with the notion that they were divine beings. The presence, touch, gaze, sight, or even the thought of the lower group would cause severe distress and fear in individuals. Touching objects they had touched could cause physical exhaustion and trembling. Conversely, touching objects touched by the higher-ups would pour immense energy into the mind.

Even today, I have heard people say that shaking hands with certain individuals brings a surge of mental energy, while with others, it leaves the mind and body drained of energy and vitality.

Some might say that all these things mentioned above are mere feelings or sensations. However, it must be understood that these sensations themselves are a creation of the ultra-subtle software of the human mind.

Even if these ebbs and flows in energy levels are mere sensations, they are not illusions or nonexistent. The sensation is real. Just as intoxication is real after drinking alcohol, the energy depletion caused by a lower-caste person’s touch is real. In fact, physical touch isn’t even necessary.

For example, a police constable need not touch an IPS officer; merely referring to them publicly as "avan" (lowest he) or "aval" (lowest she) is enough to make many of the IPS officer’s core values evaporate. Alternatively, it might spark intense hatred and resentment in their mind.

Even calling someone by their name can cause a major issue. This is because a “mere name” is something capable of linking to referential words like "avan" (lowest he), "aval" (lowest she), or "nee" (lowest you).

The English lack such realities, and we must consider what lies behind them. Simply banning the caste system achieves nothing. The old caste system may disappear, but a new one will emerge, with no other change resulting from such a ban.

This writing now aims to explain the statement: “Some individuals may give the impression of being infected by a kind of computer virus.” I haven’t reached that point yet. I hope to achieve this small goal in the next piece.

[VED]

When a computer is switched on, the screen lights up. Various components within the computer begin to function. Clicking the mouse on a video icon starts the video. These are all external observations and experiences. However, there is nothing visible on the computer’s exterior to indicate that an invisible phenomenon called software is operating at an extraordinary speed within it.

The same applies to human interactions and societal communication. Life pulsates within individuals. People in society converse with one another. Personal relationships are formed and maintained in various ways, and individuals respond to each other.

The mere gaze of some people can evoke disgust. The presence of others can cause unease or anxiety. There are many such phenomena, and people know there are clear reasons for them. However, they would find it hard to believe that a software-like phenomenon is operating behind these interactions.

Beyond the capabilities of human eyes and touch, there exist many subtle entities within the physical world itself. For instance, consider the earlier-mentioned world of radio waves.

However, what is being discussed here is not physical but pertains to a transcendental software.

It has been claimed that behind language and words, there is a transcendental software at work, interacting with the transcendental software operating behind humans and physical reality.

This kind of software is not something that can be physically held or shown. However, it may be possible to identify, study, or say something about it through its operational characteristics.

Feudal languages are better suited for this study than flat-natured languages like English. This is because feudal language words possess a phenomenon called Indicant word codes, which may facilitate such studies. Some reasons for this are as follows:

In English, when individuals interact, converse, or form personal or familial relationships, there is no significant change or fluctuation in the words or personalities involved. English lacks the varied Indicant word codes that allow words to shift or adapt.

In contrast, feudal languages create immense possibilities for words to shift, twist, and turn through the phenomenon of Indicant word codes. This can not only alter the distances and hierarchies between individuals but also transform repulsion into attraction, attraction into repulsion, a respected person into a subordinate, or a subordinate into a respected figure through changes in these Indicant word codes.

It should be noted that in feudal languages, the term "respect" often implies subservience rather than the English concept of respect.

Now, let us attempt to theorise, based on available knowledge, what happens on the transcendental software stage when changes in Indicant word codes alter personal relationships and perspectives, shifting them in opposite directions or elsewhere.

In English, whether a person is a worker, an employer, an elderly individual, a younger person, a high-ranking official, or an ordinary individual, the word "she" remains unchanged.

However, in feudal languages, the "she" represented by "avar" (highest she) can become "aval" (lowest she). For example, in an English-medium school, both the teacher and the student are simply "she." In a feudal language environment, however, the teacher is "avar" (highest she), while the student is "aval" (lowest she).

Let us examine this through the lens of transcendental software.

Suppose the codes for "avar" (highest she) are as follows:
ISc‘i þÕIDATxÚìýk´m×U ˆ~½1ç\kí÷>/éèe˲dÆÆÆ6NBQIµ

And the codes for "aval" (lowest she) are:
šÄ€ˆÀÏhÿ$¡Ã(Òê´n›i2‡C¯E

The first code elevates the individual. It is depicted in the design view of the transcendental software stage as the first image provided above.

The second code either embraces the individual with affection, suppresses them with malice, or oppresses, stabs, or tears them apart in accordance with societal hierarchical needs. This is depicted in the design view of the transcendental software stage as the second image provided above. Both images were created within the limited capabilities of this writer.

What must be understood here is that replacing "avar" (highest she) with "aval" (lowest she) involves a change in the transcendental software codes. This shift replaces a platform that elevates with one that suppresses, oppresses, or tears apart through forceful code applications.

When a mother defines her daughter as "aval" (lowest she), it is likely an affectionate embrace.

However, when a teacher uses "aval" (lowest she), it may involve the use of a hammer or dagger.

When a government office worker defines an ordinary woman as "aval" (lowest she), it could resemble the tearing bite of a wild animal.

Conversely, when an ordinary woman defines a government office worker as "aval" (lowest she), it might feel like a boulder crashing onto their head.

While it can be said that in English, interpersonal relationships lack such fluctuations, there are still some points to discuss, which cannot be addressed here.

Imagining things in such an astonishing, incredible, and improbable manner may seem foolish. However, remember that many things operate and function behind physical reality.

Consider a person with no knowledge of computers sitting in front of one. They see various icons on the screen but have no idea what they are.

If a person with slight knowledge is present, they would understand what the icons represent, such as Foxit PDF Reader, MS Word, Adobe InDesign, Notepad, Brave Internet Browser, or a folder, along with their functions and characteristics.

Suppose the person is knowledgeable in Desktop Publishing (DTP). They open MS Word and understand the numerous menu buttons displayed.

If the person is well-versed in programming languages like C++, they might know how MS Word was created. When they type =rand(20, 12) and press Enter, an incredible result appears in MS Word, and they understand it at a programming level.

However, someone without this knowledge would need to ask what is happening.

If the person is proficient in machine language, they would understand the computer’s operations at a deep code level, even conceptualising MS Word in this way.

Such knowledge would not be available to an energy science scholar or someone knowledgeable in computer hardware.

These points are mentioned to reflect this writer’s mindset.

When observing peaceful atmospheres, provocations, outbursts, and upheavals in social interactions, communication, and personal relationships, this writer often contemplates and recognises the subtle codes operating behind these events, beyond what others might consider. However, such matters are rarely shared with others, as most are unaware of the presence of information and explanations at various levels, delving deeper in layers and stages behind these events.

Most people are unaware that a vast code operation exists behind the physical events they see, hear, or experience. Educated individuals firmly believe that the deepest knowledge is found in textbooks studied at school or college, written in exam papers, covering energy science, chemistry, biology, and other subjects.

[VED]

There is no need today to definitively consider the matters about to be discussed as unreal.

In earlier times, phenomena like magical powers, visual hallucinations, auditory hallucinations, or receiving clear verbal responses through communication with transcendental forces during a séance were labelled as symptoms of a profound mental disorder like schizophrenia. However, technological advancements have now progressed to a point where such phenomena can no longer be easily defined in those terms.

I will not delve into the intricacies of that subject here.

In feudal languages, using different Indicant word codes can be likened to shifting gears in a motor vehicle, though this analogy does not fully capture the unique characteristics of Indicant word codes.

The shift from "avar" (highest she) to "aval" (lowest she) has already been noted as a transition from subtle to profound levels of bestiality.

Let us move forward.

What follows pertains to feudal languages, not English.

Consider a person of high familial or societal standing who, through marriage or occupation, becomes connected to a significantly lower familial or societal level. Such relationships have already been mentioned earlier.

In the transcendental software codes associated with this person, they are positioned at two distinct levels of elevation. An image depicting this person in the design view of the transcendental software stage has been provided.

In feudal languages, this creates a highly intriguing situation. When viewed through their elevated relationships, the Indicant word codes associated with this person ascend to higher levels.

Conversely, when their lower-status relationships are referenced, these same codes plummet downward.

In other words, this person cannot maintain a consistent personality level. This continuous upward and downward fluctuation may visibly cause various psychological issues in them. It may also potentially affect those around them in similar ways.

At times, this person might become excessively provoked over trivial matters. There may be clear reasons for this in the software codes, but we cannot delve into that now.

Moreover, this person’s opinions, societal perspectives, conversational topics, word styles, and behaviours may often appear contradictory. The explanation for this is as follows:

When interacting at a higher level, this person may express opinions, ideas, perspectives, stories, jokes, or mockery typical of lower-status individuals. These may seem distasteful, repulsive, or unnecessary in the context of higher-status settings.

Similarly, when among lower-status individuals, this person may express opinions, use elevated language, exhibit behaviours suggestive of superiority, or display relational cues that those around them find intolerable or incompatible.

This pertains to the physical world. However, it must be understood that the design view of the transcendental software stage is used here to explain these fluctuating, contradictory personalities and behaviours. Behind this design view lies a code view, an underlying domain that must be acknowledged.

In the transcendental software codes, this person is defined on platforms at two different levels of elevation. These codes exhibit constant oscillation in various directions, numerical values, and other metrics, moving upward and downward.

When individuals with such fluctuating codes closely associate with movements or other people, this oscillation in their codes may cause unintended fluctuations and actions in the transcendental software codes of those movements or individuals.

In other words, if a person with such fluctuating codes secures a position within a well-functioning movement, that movement may inexplicably experience sudden fatigue, reduced efficiency, or other issues without any clear reason.

One way for such individuals to find relief from this issue, it seems, is to decisively move towards one of these dual standards encoded within their personality and establish themselves firmly at that level.

In the physical world, this would assign a clear position to the Indicant word codes associated with this person, establishing stability in their societal perception and interactions with others.

The oscillation in numerical values and other metrics within the transcendental software codes would also cease.

However, this perspective is overly simplistic. Social life is exponentially more complex. Only a specific, intricate coding has been discussed here.

What has been highlighted is the phenomenon resembling a software virus infiltrating due to social or personal fluctuations in status. Similar phenomena may be possible for various other reasons.

For example, an individual who internally perceives themselves as superior, but lives or interacts among people who do not acknowledge this superiority, may experience similar conditions.

Leaving this topic here, the narrative now shifts back to North Malabar. However, having discussed transcendental software, a brief indication of a closely related matter is warranted.

In feudal languages, when a person of high status remains elevated, others express subservience through word codes and use respectful terms. However, if this same person associates closely with lower-status individuals and adopts their word codes as an equal, an unusual state may emerge on the transcendental software stage.

A person encoded as "adheham" (highest he) clearly possesses this elevation. However, due to circumstances, if this person is placed among those encoded as "avan" (lowest he) without strong word code protection, they may fall prey to the downward gaze of those individuals. This can be an extremely dangerous situation, closely resembling what is referred to as "being struck by the evil eye." I do not wish to delve deeper into this topic now, as words, once spoken, cannot be easily restrained.

[VED]

It does not seem that this subcontinent ever had significant historical documentation, welfare state systems, mechanisms for the general progress of the populace, or movements aimed at public welfare, unlike other countries.

In a layered social structure, those at the top plan to keep those at the bottom trapped in their condition. This is because the language operates in such a way. If great privileges are granted to those at the bottom, they cease to display subservience. Though this may seem a minor issue, everyone in society tends to share this mindset. This is how feudal languages influence human thought.

A fact often overlooked by those writing formal histories today is that ninety-nine percent of the people in this subcontinent were slaves of varying degrees. The term "slave" may not always have been used, but the invisible force of word codes sustained an unwritten system of servitude.

In Malabar, during the period of English administration, many official history books reflect the strong influence of local officials' mindsets. By then, Ezhava movement leaders, Syrian Christians, and leaders of lower-caste Christians from Travancore might have begun exerting influence in Malabar’s administrative and social upper echelons.

There may have been a strong interest among these groups to impose the idea that Malabar is a historical part of Travancore, that the region is historically called Kerala, and that the people of both regions are of the same kind.

There may be some minor similarities between the Namboodiri families at the top social strata of Travancore and Malabar. However, it is unclear how much connection existed between the Namboodiri families of Travancore and those of Malabar, as travel by land would have been extremely arduous. It is also unknown whether these groups preferred sea travel.

Records indicate that the Nairs of North Malabar and South Malabar were not the same group. This raises the question of which group the Nairs of Travancore belonged to.

Below them, the Marumakkathayam Thiyyas and Makkathayam Thiyyas were two distinct groups. Meanwhile, Ezhavas from Travancore, claiming to be the same as these Thiyya groups, significantly disrupted Malabar’s social fabric.

Below these groups were numerous other communities.

The English administration might initially have perceived those at the bottom as genetically inferior, as the upper strata often portrayed them as deformed beings.

However, this is not the reality. The language system compelled those at the bottom to bow before authority and display subservience to survive. This system persists even today.

In this environment, if opportunities for growth are provided to those at the bottom, they will suppress those above them. This is the reality.

Most of these points have already been discussed earlier.

Now, the focus shifts to Brahmins, Ambalavasis, and Nairs. None of these three groups are truly a single community.

Merely calling someone a Brahmin does not suffice. Various groups attempted to claim social divinity by associating with the Brahmin label, and there may have been various alliances or conflicts among them.

This tendency to align with Brahmin identity might be a common trait among communities from North to South Asia. However, in most other aspects, South Asian communities were likely quite distinct from one another.

The discussion here pertains to the Brahmins, Ambalavasis, and Nairs of Malabar.

There was, and in some cases still is, a perception that these three groups possess some genetic superiority.

When the English administration first established itself in this subcontinent, they likely viewed these groups as semi-primitive. However, as the English administration established stable and peaceful societies in various regions, they may have noticed significant qualities in these groups.

This, however, may be a misconception. Comparing an Indian police constable to an English constable from old England is a foolish error. In English, both are simply "constables."

In reality, an auto-rickshaw driver and a police constable in Kerala likely come from similar social and familial backgrounds.

However, a police constable receives a substantial salary as reliably as the sunrise, along with other income sources. They wear a uniform that instils fear, awe, and subservience in people, adorned with brass insignia of authority. They have access to well-equipped police stations, advanced technology, expensive vehicles, guns, and batons. Moreover, they can define most people as "nee" (lowest you), "eda," "edi," "avan" (lowest he), or "aval" (lowest she) without anyone questioning their rudeness. Slapping most people in the face would likely result in no significant consequences. Above all, local language schools and government schools compel new generations to use word codes that position them as subordinates to these constables.

Most auto-rickshaw drivers would acknowledge that such a grand police constable is akin to a lord.

Conversely, an auto-rickshaw driver must toil daily on the streets to earn a living, wearing a uniform that projects low social status. To safely navigate the streets, they must display utmost subservience to the uniformed police constable. The more subservience they show, the better. When the constable uses derogatory terms, the driver must reciprocate with the subservient term "sir," cloaked as respect. Additionally, local language and government schools subtly instil the notion that the auto-rickshaw driver is "avan" (lowest he) while the constable is "adheham" (highest he) in everyone’s minds.

To an outsider entering this society, it may seem clear that the police constable and their family possess superior DNA—evident in their robust physique, broad chest, immense courage, expensive shoes, trousers, and other attire, along with the authority to wield a baton and say anything.

In contrast, the auto-rickshaw driver and their family may be perceived as having inferior DNA.

In reality, such observations lack a solid foundation. However, if these dynamics persist across generations, these two groups may appear distinctly different.

One becomes a lordly family, the other a slave family.

Yet, the slave family would not admit to being slaves. They would point out that many others below them—whom they define as "nee," "eda," or "edi"—show them respect and subservience. By shouting on the streets, chanting slogans, staging protests, or blaring loud horns on their auto-rickshaws, they demonstrate their elevated personality. In their own sphere, they too are lords.

The point is this: In Malabar, those who traditionally claimed superiority did so by ensnaring numerous people beneath them. If there were any standalone elevated personalities in this subcontinent, I have not heard of them.

The concept of an elevated personality needs clarification, which can be addressed later.

It is unclear what connection the Brahmins of Malabar and South Asia had with the Vedic people who flourished thousands of years ago in Central Asia or elsewhere. However, many of these Brahmins maintained Vedic rituals and practices. While some may have learned to chant Vedic mantras, it is unlikely they understood the transcendental mechanisms operating within these mantras.

They likely had little knowledge of the historical context of these practices. Yet, using terms like "tradition" and "legend," they imbued this ignorance with a mystical aura, presenting it as something grand.

As mentioned earlier, Christian missionaries from continental Europe and Britain’s Celtic language regions, operating in South Asia, likely perceived Sanskrit as a language filled with elements from the region’s numerous smaller languages. This suggests that Christian missionaries may have integrated Sanskrit into the subcontinent’s traditions.

Now, let us delve into the intricacies of Malabar’s Brahmins.

[VED]

In 1901, during the English administration’s census, an attempt was made to count the members of each caste. This required clearly defining each caste, which was done based on social elevation and inferiority. However, this process led to significant complexities.

The matter of new individuals born through marital relationships is itself highly complex. Women generally do not object to forming bonds with men of their own status or those above them. However, if they form relationships with men of lower status and children are born, this creates new societal complexities.

Men, to a certain extent, can have children with women of lower status, but those children must remain within the mother’s caste and not establish a connection with the father.

The English administration, observing these intricate social relationships, appears to have classified people into the following categories for the census:

Brahmin
Intermediate castes (Kshatriyas, Samanthans, Ambalavasis, etc.)
Shudras (Nairs, those claiming to be Nairs but not actually Nairs, and lower Shudras)
Outcastes like Thiyyas, artisans such as Kammalans, and similar occupational groups
Socially ostracised and degraded communities

Many in these groups likely had a strong desire to establish a connection, blood relation, or proximity with the highest-ranking Brahmins. This is akin to claiming a connection with IAS or IPS officers today, as it significantly elevates one’s status through word codes.

Moreover, within each category, those considered the most elite would have been keen to assert their superiority over others in their group.

In Malabar, the general term for Brahmins is Namboodiri. It is understood that similar communities existed in Travancore and Cochin.

The suffix “tiri” in their name is a significant indicator of affluence. It is also observed that various communities have adopted this “tiri” suffix.

In the Indian army, there are high-ranking officers as well as ordinary soldiers, referred to as “sepoy” in Hindi. Additionally, there are washermen, cooks, barbers, and others involved in tasks like cleaning living quarters and facilities. Some sepoys may also perform such menial tasks.

All of them may wear army uniforms, but clear markers of hierarchy are visible on their attire. Moreover, distinct hierarchical distinctions exist in their language codes.

Thus, within the army itself, there are both highly elevated and extremely subordinate individuals. However, when these individuals stand before the public in their uniforms, even the lowest-ranking among them believes themselves to be above the common people. If the public attempts to assert equality, even the lowest-ranking soldier may become agitated and strive to align with higher authority, displaying symbols of power and affluence while using word codes that degrade the public.

It seems unlikely that an army cook, washerman, or barber would perform such tasks for the public.

The various subgroups within each caste in Malabar were similar to this.

The focus here is on Brahmins.

Among them, various occupations exist, but their collective identity is that they are Brahmins. If their occupations are compared to those performed by some lower-status individuals, equating them with such groups would imbue the language codes with a demonic quality.

In daily life, no significant qualities are typically observed in soldiers. However, everyone knows that without the army, disaster would ensue—Pakistanis from the north might invade and capture everyone.

A similar reality existed for Brahmins. Without them at the top, the land would fall into ruin and anarchy would prevail. This was indeed true.

Living among the public is challenging for soldiers. To maintain their dignity, nobility, and affluence, they require clear boundaries, barriers, walls, ramparts, and protective shields like barracks and officers’ quarters. Officers’ wives and children interact with the public cautiously, often maintaining distance. It is unlikely they would appreciate attempts by lower-status men or women from the public to establish familiarity. Even a glance from a low-status young man would be distasteful and intolerable.

If they did not feel this way, the mental balance of army officers might be disrupted.

The Namboodiri Brahmins in Malabar lived in a similar manner. Many resided in agraharas (Brahmin settlements). Their women were referred to as antharjanam or akathamma, meaning they lived confined within the agraharas. Despite outwardly displaying great affluence and elite status, their confined life within the agraharas could, to a large extent, be quite unbearable.

The following describes how Namboodiri women in Travancore were socially protected, written by a Brahmin who was not a Namboodiri:

“The women are guarded with more than Moslem jealousy: even brothers and sisters are separated at an early age. When the Nambudri lady goes to worship the village god or visit a neighbour, a Nair maid, who accompanies her, commands the retirement of all the males on the road, while the lady moves all shrouded in cloth, with a mighty umbrella, which protects her from the gaze of profane eyes.”

The language used by lower-status people in Malabar likely contained very few words. They were also unlikely to know Sanskrit. In contrast, Namboodiris would have known Sanskrit, resulting in a vast vocabulary in their spoken language. Consequently, there was likely a significant difference between their language and that of the common people. However, Namboodiris probably knew the language of the lower strata and used it to communicate with them.

[VED]

I am unaware of how ancient Brahmins are portrayed in Indian cinema that glorifies the grandeur of old Hindu traditions, as I do not watch films. However, the images provided below are photographs of some Brahmins who lived in the southern part of South Asia during the 1800s.

Consider the plight of those living under them, struck by the soul-melting word codes of feudal languages. While their grandeur may be said to lie in their spiritual authority, it does not end there. Feudal languages contain codes that pit subordinate people against each other, competing for respect and higher positions. As a result, these groups cannot unite. Instead, they hold reverence for those above them and feel disgust, hatred, and fear towards those below.

In the presence of a Nambudiri, a person of lower caste, whether male or female, would lower their chest-covering cloth to their waist as a sign of subservience. They would use highly respectful words when addressing the Nambudiri, while employing self-degrading terms for themselves, their people, and their children.

QUOTE from Malabar and Anjengo:

A man of lower caste should uncover to the waist as a token of respect when approaching a Nambudiri, and must use special terms of respect when referring to anything belonging to him, while he debases everything of his own.

From the early days of English administration in Malabar until around the early 1900s, Nambudiris were the least influenced by English culture and knowledge. Many among the lower classes, however, sought not only the positive aspects of English culture but also the knowledge and information provided by the English.

By the 1900s, records show that some Nambudiris began using bicycles. While this may seem trivial today, a bicycle back then was likely a significant mode of transport. Even when I bought a bicycle in 1978, it was a vehicle owned by only a few.

The adoption of bicycles by Nambudiris is recorded in Malabar and Anjengo as a remarkable cultural advancement.

In the early days of English administration in Malabar, Nambudiris had no motivation to progress culturally or intellectually. Many owned vast acres of land and held monstrous powers to ostracise or excommunicate others from society.

QUOTE from Malabar and Anjengo:

The Nambudiri, affluent and influential, lord of numberless broad acres, exercising in some cases much dreaded powers of social interdict or excommunication.

While they could claim knowledge of Vedic mantras and the like, it is unclear how many truly mastered them. Things with little practical use in daily life are unlikely to be diligently studied. For instance, it is difficult to say how many young Nambudiris today know such mantras.

However, the English administration introduced written laws, courts, and police stations under inspectors who spoke English. Since the English language lacked the word codes distinguishing the noble from the inferior, the powers of the Nambudiris gradually waned.

This must have caused them great pain. They likely struggled to tolerate the despised lower classes crossing boundaries, walking their paths, and behaving without signs of subservience.

Among the lower classes, some unaffected by English culture might display crude behaviours, such as spitting on roads or making offensive sounds while doing so. While this may not have been repulsive among the lower classes, it was likely intolerable for Nambudiris. The act of spitting by a traditionally despised person could add to their distress and disgust.

Today, this situation can be likened to an ordinary person standing on the street without showing subservience to a police inspector. If they addressed the inspector as “you,” it would cause a social earthquake. Imagine the consequences of addressing them as “lowest you.”

Consider a scenario where English administration returns to British-Malabar, and IAS or IPS officers lose their authority. They might find it impossible to even step outside. Such is the cruelty of the linguistic atmosphere in this land. In the local language, one who loses power is akin to a corpse.

During the era of social authority, Nambudiris were coveted by the most beautiful Nair maidens, who competed to form connections with them. Nairs revered them as nothing less than divine.

QUOTE from Malabar and Anjengo:

Courted by the flower of Nair womanhood and reverenced as nothing less than divine.

Often, even the advanced age of a Nambudiri did not diminish their allure, as power and nobility are highly attractive. Such a connection granted significant status and authority over others through word codes.

About two decades ago, I had the opportunity to closely observe the interstate vegetable trade for a few weeks. During a friendly conversation, a trader shared insights about that world, saying:

“There’s no use in being called handsome. It has no value. What’s needed is power—power to make people obey. What’s the point of being good-looking?”

The administrative reforms introduced by the English administration can be said to have freed Nambudiris from the rigid walls of respect. Respect, in reality, is a form of great bondage. However, to live freely after being unbound, a safe social and linguistic environment is needed in the land.

With the spread of English administration, Nambudiri women, previously confined to agraharas, began to gain freedom. Some likely pursued the high-quality English education available at the time.

A divine figure touching or forming connections with women from their family was not considered repulsive in the language codes. However, if one day the divine figure is revealed to be a mere human with no abilities, no longer revered by people, it becomes a significant issue. When a figure once addressed as “highest he” or “sir” is reduced to “lowest you” or “lowest he,” the divine rituals performed by the romantic lake turn into great vulgarity.

Native Life in Travancore records such a matter.

QUOTE from Native Life in Travancore:

A society for the reform of the Malabar laws of marriage (and inheritance) has been formed at Calicut by the leaders of the Nair community, especially those educated in English.

Understand that the book was published in 1883, meaning changes had already begun in British-Malabar before then. It seems it took much longer for Brahmin dominance to wane in Travancore.

Society was bound by various restrictions. For example, family property was like an inseparable burden, passed down through generations. Individuals could not separate their rightful share and break free from family constraints. However, in British-India, the English administration introduced laws allowing such separation. It is unclear when this was implemented in Travancore. In Travancore and other local kingdoms, neither the king nor the officials could alter the social customs of Brahmins.

QUOTE from Native Life in Travancore:

But the Government has no authority whatever over the social usages of Brahmans.

[VED]

Before the arrival of English administration in Malabar and certain other parts of South Asia, the lifestyle of Nambudiris may have been, to some extent, profoundly monotonous. The situation might be likened to that of today’s government office workers. Government offices are often places with dull interpersonal environments, crude customs, and tasks that hold little personal interest. Yet, the sight of the common people—considered inferior—standing ready to offer obeisance may feel like a life’s fulfilment for these workers.

Nambudiris are recorded as Vedic Brahmans, implying the existence of non-Vedic Brahmans as well. It can be believed that Nambudiris were associated with the Vedas. If we consider the Vedic period religion as Hinduism, it follows that the Nambudiris’ religion is Hinduism. However, it seems that spiritual beliefs distinct from Vedic culture emerged thousands of years later, which are also considered Hinduism today. This includes the Mahabharata, Ramayana, Krishna, Rama, Parashurama, and others. I am not certain of this.

Nambudiris were present in Travancore, Cochin, and Malabar. Their presence at the top of the social hierarchy in these three regions may have led to the perception that these areas were part of the same region. Anyone under their influence would likely be assigned to one of the predetermined social ranks, becoming part of that hierarchy, much like joining the police force, where one could be anything from an IPS officer under a DGP to a constable.

Under the Nambudiris were various ranks: temple workers (ambalavasis) of different levels, Nairs overseeing their landholdings, and below them, various grades of artisans and agricultural labourers. At the very bottom were the enslaved people, treated as cattle.

In any region where Nambudiris held high status, they could place outsiders who arrived weakened from distant lands into any social rank they deemed fit.

It seems this did not apply to Syrian Christians or Jews.

The Nambudiris’ ability to assign people to various social ranks was somewhat limited only in the case of royal families and kings. However, this may have been a calculated compromise between Nambudiris and royals, as conflict would cause both to fall into the depths. Those depths are inhabited by human beasts capable of tearing others apart with word codes.

In the minds of the lower classes, Nambudiris were likely akin to the sun shining brightly in the distant sky. Kings and royals sought their blessings and favours publicly. For example, the Azhvanchery Thambrakal, a renowned Nambudiri illam in Athavanad, Ponnani, was considered a sacred lineage from the perspective of Travancore. The king of Travancore would invite this Nambudiri every six years, performing a full prostration before him. Receiving his blessings, witnessed by the lower classes, likely granted the king immense social and spiritual strength.

Similarly, today, local leaders and social workers often invite police inspectors or DYSPs to their events to honour them, boosting their esteem in the eyes of local onlookers.

During Tipu Sultan’s campaign in South Malabar, members of the Azhvanchery Thambrakal family fled to Travancore for safety, as noted here.

Tipu Sultan’s campaign was given a face of extreme cruelty, likely because local groups like the Cherumar—treated as cattle—broke their chains and attacked Hindus (including Nambudiris), their associated temple workers, and their Nair overseers. This is indicated in the Malabar Manual.

This is mentioned to highlight the depth of affection the lower classes had for Nambudiris, who lived in grand illams, owned vast wealth, were immersed in Vedic mantras and rituals, and led highly spiritual lives with virtuous minds.

The mindset and behaviour of those treated as cattle were likely rough and unpleasant, as discussed earlier. For someone immersed in Vedic mantras, Sanskrit, and its refined vocabulary, it seems unlikely they could bring about meaningful improvement in the lower classes. This is because Sanskrit and the customs it represents are steeped in hierarchies.

Despite Islam’s claim of equality, sweeping in like a storm, it seems it could not fully reform matters either. The feudal languages of this subcontinent, with their rigid hierarchies, create fear even within Islam. The Arabian Islamic perspective might have feared that uplifting the lower classes could harm Islam itself. This will be discussed later.

Being born a Nambudiri brought its own destined burdens. One had to live, sit, stand, speak, and interact within the confines of strict feudal language codes.

They had to wear the sacred thread. The period of ritual impurity (pula) for a relative’s death was ten days for Nambudiris.

They believed all land in Malabar once belonged to them.

They lived in isolated illams on their estates, immersed in spiritual matters.

As recorded in Malabar and Anjengo, a Nambudiri would rise at 3 a.m., bathe in the illam’s pond, proceed to the temple for rituals, and until 11 a.m., read or chant Vedic verses. Then came the main meal, followed by rest and some silence. In the evening, they bathed in oil and remained in the temple until 9 p.m.

Maintaining such spiritual and physical purity, a Nambudiri would become impure if touched by anyone below them. Temple workers and Nairs could approach, but anyone below Nairs would render them impure.

Each caste had a prescribed distance to maintain, called ‘paadu’ in Malabar. ‘Thiyyappaadu’ was the distance for Thiyyas, and ‘Cherumappaadu’ for Cherumars.

This was a deeply troubled state. It must be said that Nambudiris endured this burden for centuries. It was the English administration that rescued them from these shackles in Malabar. In Cochin and Travancore, they had to wait longer for liberation.

In Malabar, the English administration provided some Thiyyas in places like Tellicherry with access to high-quality English education and prominent positions in the administrative system. It is unclear how Nambudiris perceived this. Nevertheless, it is understood that some among them were at the forefront of organising against English rule in Malabar.

[VED]

Reader discretion requested - Vulgar words are present in this chapter.


The video provided above seems to depict the highly alluring life of a Nambudiri maiden. However, reality may not align with this portrayal.

The situation of Nambudiri women was likely quite difficult in many ways. In a feudal linguistic atmosphere, being at the top of the social hierarchy meant they could not freely move about as they pleased—a stark reality. The elite often seek various solutions to this, which I won’t delve into here. However, it’s worth noting that feudal languages confine both the high and the low to distinct social positions. The methods each group uses to break free from these constraints differ, yet both can find great satisfaction in their confinement.

It is recorded that Nambudiris were exogamous, marrying outside their community. Only the eldest Nambudiri son was permitted to marry a Nambudiri woman. Younger sons were expected to form sambandham relationships with Nair households. While this may sound appealing today, the physical reality was likely distressing.

They could not acknowledge their own children as their own. Moreover, in most cases, it was often impossible to clearly identify which children born to Nair women were theirs.

This issue caused significant disruptions in the family systems of Nairs and royal families. Consequently, the practice of passing family property through male heirs was absent, as men could not reliably identify their children. In contrast, children born to women in the family were undeniably theirs, making this the certain path through which property rights and familial social authority were passed to the next generation.

The painful aspect of this system was that, at times, a man and woman might live as husband and wife, much like today. In such cases, the father’s identity would be clear, and he might show affection towards his children. These children might also share in their father’s social prestige and view him as a father figure, especially since other communities in the region followed the makkathayam (patrilineal) system, potentially influencing these children’s mindset.

In Travancore, in 1729, Marthanda Varma became king after the death of his uncle, the previous king. Until then, he was the heir apparent, the son of the king’s sister eligible to become the next king. The inability of the reigning king’s son to ascend the throne was problematic, especially if the king was close to his wife and children.

It seems the children of the deceased king found it hard to accept Marthanda Varma’s ascension, likely because they knew that in the Pandya regions, the king’s eldest son typically inherited the throne.

I’ll try to discuss related historical events in Travancore later. Back then, Travancore was a small kingdom, and Attingal may have been a separate entity.

The Nambudiri lineage remained untainted by foreign blood through the eldest son’s marriage to a Nambudiri woman.

One can imagine how Nambudiri women perceived and experienced this system. The number of eligible men available for marriage was very limited, and they could not marry outside their community. If there had been a rule allowing the eldest Nambudiri to marry four or five women, it might have alleviated the issue, but no such rule existed, as I understand. [This statement is incorrect. See Vol 11, Chapter 40 for more details.]

Consequently, many Nambudiri maidens, women, antharjanams, and akathammas likely lived as lifelong or elderly virgins, unmarried—a certainty, it seems.

The competition, backstabbing, and envy among these Nambudiri maidens for a suitable husband is unclear, as South Asia generally lacks detailed historical records. What remains are legends and tales of great heroes and women upholding radiant chastity. Readers must decide their credibility.

Before the English administration raised the Union Jack on Tellicherry’s shores, the plight of Nambudiri women was likely severe. The social atmosphere prevented them from moving freely. The problem was not just the lower castes’ lack of subservience but their readiness to openly express vulgar thoughts in their minds, eyes, and words. Even an IPS officer walking the streets without authority symbols or escorts would not face such experiences.

The themes of the Bharani songs in Kodungallur may serve as evidence of this. This likely reflects the mindset of the lower classes, including lower-class women who supported such behaviour. The vulgar songs they sang were probably in the Malabar language. Whether these songs are preserved today is unknown, but I may touch on this later.

In Travancore’s language, one might say, “Look at her arse. What a piece!” In Malabar, it might be, “Look at her arse. What a beauty!” Though I’m not familiar with such phrases in Malabar, this is a plausible example.

Nambudiri women are understood to have worn clothing covering their chest. Since there were no higher castes, they likely did not need to bare their chest as a sign of subservience before other men. Consequently, the lower classes might project vulgar thoughts onto their covered chests. Words like chest or breast belong to the refined side of the language, while tits likely lies on the opposite, vulgar side, though I cannot say definitively.

It’s worth noting that words like arse or butt have refined counterparts in the feudal language, such as hips. The refined side of the language contrasts with the vulgar terms like arse or butt. This topic deserves deeper discussion later.

For now, consider this: doesn’t using such words in writing feel like it introduces some dirt or impropriety? This text has so far travelled through the Brahman (refined) level of the language. However, feudal languages are not limited to this level alone.

Even in unadulterated old English, vulgar words existed. For example, Francis Grose published A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue in England in 1788. Though I haven’t studied it deeply, it seems the vulgarity in English then referred to the relatively less refined speech of the elite. However, since English lacks the indicant word codes of feudal languages, its vulgarity differs entirely from that of feudal languages.

Today, the vulgarity introduced by foreigners into English carries the stench of foul matter. I’m interested in exploring this further later, but there’s no scope for it now.

The key point is that Nambudiri women did not confine themselves to agraharas solely because others harboured vulgar thoughts. Rather, feudal languages manifest such thoughts by assigning people to different social levels.

Erotic or lustful thoughts about these women may also have existed among Nambudiri men, yet this caused neither disgust nor alarm for them or their families. However, when such looks or words came from the lower classes, they became vulgar, offensive, and intolerable, possibly degrading people through subtle linguistic cues.

Yet, it’s not just the vulgar imaginations of the lower classes that alarmed them. A mere remark from a lower-class woman without subservience could disrupt their mental balance. Though they might have Nair companions at times, venturing out without such escorts was problematic. Reality may not align with the video’s portrayal.

The Nambudiri community closely guarded and protected their women’s chastity.

If any lifelong virgin among them ever engaged in physical relations with a man, it would be a significant issue.

I plan to discuss this in the next chapter.

[VED]

The situation of Namboodiri women was as follows:

Many of them lived with their families in agraharas, settlements exclusively for Namboodiris. These can be compared, if one wishes, to modern-day barracks for sepoys, quarters for government clerks, or police constables. However, it must be noted that Namboodiris were not akin to the sepoys of their society. Rather, they held a status comparable to today’s IAS officers.

Thus, it should be understood that they resided in what could be termed Officers’ Quarters.

Access to these agraharas might have been granted to temple attendants and Nairs to a limited extent. Those below them in status were likely permitted entry only to perform menial tasks related to their servitude.

Wealthy Namboodiris, owning vast landed estates, might have lived in an illam (traditional house) built in an isolated part of their property.

Entry for outsiders into such places would likely follow the same restrictions as mentioned above.

There is no claim that living in such isolated places, without contact with others, posed any inherent problem. After all, staying aloof from individuals deemed bothersome to the eye or mind was a common practice in most feudal linguistic and social environments.

However, this was not like the English establishing their private beaches or residences in feudal linguistic spaces. They faced no issues venturing out or travelling. If they did not understand feudal languages at all, it granted them a degree of mental freedom.

Namboodiri women, however, understood the feudal language around them. It was the very language they spoke. They could only move within the confines of a fence built by honorific words denoting servitude. This is not just their story but a reality applicable even to today’s highest-ranking officials.

No matter how isolated Namboodiri illams or agraharas were, they could not sever ties with lower castes. It is a fact that temple attendants and Nairs would enter to perform various tasks. These groups were not considered inauspicious by Namboodiris. However, it was the enslaved lower castes who were tasked with removing night-soil at night, with specific individuals designated for this purpose.

While such practices existed in England, the absence of indicant-code-words meant that the nature, colour, quality, appeal, or repulsiveness of a task did not define or follow the individual through linguistic codes.

In feudal languages, however, things were entirely different. The tasks one performed and the status of those associated with them haunted individuals like a ghostly possession. Escaping this affliction was extremely difficult. For many, even after centuries of struggle, liberation from this curse was unattainable. Ultimately, it was the arrival and operations of the English Company that rescued many from this affliction. This can be elaborated on later if needed.

It would be known to other men entering Namboodiri residences from outside about the plight of antharjanams (Namboodiri women) and akathammamar (inner household women). Many of them remained lifelong virgins. Moreover, their lives could be extremely monotonous. The feigned respect from lower castes, received daily, could not alleviate the boredom of life beyond a certain point.

Their minds might have reached a state of numbness from constantly hearing Sanskrit shlokas, stotras, sahasranama recitations, and laksharchana rituals. It should be noted that occasionally hearing Sanskrit mantras or shlokas might evoke the sensation of gazing up from the base of a great mountain. However, whether this contributes to physical or mental personal growth remains a matter to be examined.

Even the physical and mental personality gained from singing about a hundred English nursery rhymes proficiently seems unlikely to be matched by such Sanskrit shlokas. That said, it is not claimed here that mantras lack magical, tantric, or occult powers. In feudal languages, words indeed carry immense power.

Other men likely assumed that Namboodiri women were filled with amorous desire. This may not always be entirely true, as the label of “lower caste” caused individuals to be viewed with disgust.

In feudal languages, the most alluring factor is a person’s elevated status. Even if a Namboodiri casually visited a Nair household, there would be no issue for young Nair girls if he requested to share their bed. This was because the requester was a revered figure. Linguistic codes wrapped such a socially, spiritually, and officially powerful individual in gold. If he, with his hands, caressed a Nair maiden’s bosom, it would feel as if golden dust had been sprinkled on her chest.

For someone from the lower castes, no matter how muscular or physically impressive, it made no difference. The linguistic codes enveloping them would evoke disgust.

In feudal languages, the most potent aphrodisiac is physical and mental cleanliness. When viewed through linguistic codes, this cleanliness translates to a state of sanctity. This has no connection to physical cleanliness.

Lower castes might be physically clean, but they lack the sanctity of physical purity. Instead, their linguistic codes evoke a state of disgust.

The sanctity of Namboodiris began to erode when the English administration created individuals proficient in English, granting them official positions and introducing clear, written laws and regulations to govern them.

This brought about a change in British-Malabar. It must be specifically understood that this was not the case in Kerala as a whole. This distinction is highlighted because today’s formal historians, writing on platforms like Wikipedia, seem unaware of the difference between Malabar and Travancore.

In the novel Indulekha by O. Chandumenon, written in Naduvannur near Calicut in British-Malabar, one can glimpse the shadow of the changes occurring in Malabar.

Though I have not read the novel, I have heard this is the story:

A much-venerated Namboodiri arrives at Indulekha’s house to stay the night. He requests to share her bed.

But times have changed. Namboodiris no longer hold real official power in British-Malabar. Indulekha responds to the Namboodiri in a manner akin to, “Get lost.” It seems the Namboodiri, upon hearing this, says something like:

“If she won’t come, no matter. Her mother will do.” (This quote is my own creation. I do not know how the Namboodiri speaks in the novel.)

Here, a significant mental shift among Nair women was brought about by the English administration in British-Malabar, not by the various regional social reformers often celebrated today.

Some Nairs even now blame O. Chandumenon for writing such a novel.

I have heard that recently, parts of this novel were rewritten or omitted in a republication. I have no further details on this matter.

There is another aspect to this. Some so-called scholars write the absurdity that Nair women back then had the personal freedom to sleep with anyone.

The focus here is on Namboodiri women. Nair women’s matters can be discussed later. Lower castes were often unaware of anything repulsive about themselves. It is also true that they set their sights on Namboodiri women. For lower-caste men to set their sights on women from a landlord’s household was considered a grave offence. It is said that even around 1960, murders related to such incidents occurred in the inland rural areas of Malabar.

I recall someone telling me a story:

The young wife of a landlord was bathing in a pond in an isolated part of their estate. A young agricultural labourer secretly watched her. Somehow, the landlord learned of this. The labourer might have shared the mesmerising experience with his friends. The landlord took the man to the hilly areas under the pretext of some task, had his limbs hacked off by workers, and buried him.

The visual pleasure of an elite woman’s nudity was reserved for the elite, not for those bound by lower linguistic codes, deemed impure by those codes.

Such was the state of power in Malabar and across South Asia. This was what the English administration had to gradually transform.

There have been various methods since ancient times to achieve sexual gratification without male involvement. One such method is the use of a dildo. In the past, this was accessible only to the elite. Today, it is a widely marketed product.

Records indicate such practices existed in South Asia as well. Moreover, sexual activity was an essential component of tantric practices. Additionally, some ancient South Asian temples feature erotic sculptures. The image provided on the previous page is one such sculpture from the Khajuraho temple.

However, Namboodiris in Malabar likely had little connection to these. Travelling to Khajuraho or other northern regions would have taken months.

It seems Namboodiris also maintained Shiva temples. Linga worship was part of this, which, in esoteric Vedic contexts, might involve codes granting supernatural abilities. In other words, codes for achieving sexual arousal in a mystical manner might be involved. More on this may be discussed later.

In the modern Bharanippattu, one can see the obsession of lower castes with elite women. Though Pattars are not Namboodiris, they are still Brahmins. One can imagine how lower-caste men viewed Namboodiri women in the past. As mentioned earlier, in Travancore, there was even a month called Pulappedi or Pulappidi, during which Pulayas would attempt to claim women from Nair and higher castes by throwing stones or touching them.

However, it seems unlikely that Ezhava women in Travancore could be claimed in this manner. If a Pulaya touched them, Ezhavas might not have given up their women but instead beaten the Pulaya.

It’s akin to a sepoy calling a clerk by name—enough to startle and resolve the issue. If not startled, it’s no big deal. But if a sepoy starts calling an IAS or IPS woman by name, it would be inappropriate to keep her in that position. It would be better for her to quit and go with the sepoy. That’s roughly how things were.

Given this, it would be extremely difficult for lower-caste men to engage sexually with Namboodiri women in the usual course. However, Nairs, temple attendants, and Brahmins could attempt it, as their gaze, words, or touch would not evoke significant disgust.

Within the agrahara or the confined world of the illam, Namboodiri women lived in a state of ennui, exhausted by hearing Sanskrit mantras, smritis, shrutis, morning hymns, Upanishadic knowledge, and lines from Jayadeva’s Ashtapadi. There was no atmosphere for discourse or thought about other knowledge or English classics that enrich human personality. At the same time, they were chained by the glory of tradition and social opulence.

Namboodiris, temple attendants, and Nairs were neither disinterested nor unskilled in erotic matters. It seems likely they would attempt to engage Namboodiri women for such purposes.

Meanwhile, lower castes might have harboured similar desires. When Tipu Sultan invaded Malabar, even Cherumars stormed into Namboodiri illams, Varyar households, Nair homes, and more. Namboodiris skilled in mystical arts and Nairs trained in Kalaripayattu, swift as peacocks, fled for their lives. One can imagine the fate of those who could not escape.

[VED]

It seems that Namboodiris also maintained Shiva temples. It should be noted that linga worship was part of this. The Shivalinga, in esoteric Vedic contexts, might involve codes granting supernatural abilities. In other words, there could be codes behind sexual arousal that enable mystical achievements. More on this may be discussed later.

In the modern Bharanippattu, one can see the obsession of lower castes with elite women. Though Pattars are not Namboodiris, they are still Brahmins. One can imagine how lower-caste men viewed Namboodiri women in the past. As mentioned earlier, in Travancore, there was even a month called Pulappedi or Pulappidi, during which Pariahs would attempt to claim women from Nair and higher castes by throwing stones or touching them.

However, it seems unlikely that Ezhava women in Travancore could be claimed in this manner. If a Pariah touched them, Ezhavas might not have given up their women but instead beaten the Pariah.

Similar practices might be observed in the Pandya regions.

It’s akin to a sepoy calling a clerk by name—enough to startle and resolve the issue. If not startled, it’s no big deal. But if a sepoy starts calling an IAS or IPS woman by name, it would be inappropriate to keep her in that position. It would be better for her to quit and go with the sepoy. That’s roughly how things were.

Given this, it would be extremely difficult for lower-caste men under Nairs to engage sexually with Namboodiri women in the usual course. However, Nairs, temple attendants, and Brahmins could attempt it, as their gaze, words, or touch would not evoke significant disgust.

There is a contrasting story in a novel by a woman from Kottayam, which won the Booker Prize. I recall that a Syrian Christian woman, living in foreign circumstances and possibly unaware of local feudal language dynamics, with the belief that all humans are equal, engaged in a sexual relationship with a lower-caste (possibly Pariah, though I don’t recall clearly) labourer, ruining her life and tarnishing her family’s name. Since I read the novel long ago, my memory is vague.

The pleasure from the Pariah labourer’s touch, his amorous play, his sexual organs, the curves of his body, and the intimacy of private spaces, along with complying with his erotic words and demands by offering her body, were indistinguishable to her from the pleasures a higher-caste or high-status person might provide. She lacked the social awareness to discern the difference.

The problem lies in the feudal language itself. Linguistic codes can impart a stench or a radiant aura to a person. One should not touch without clearly understanding what is on a person’s body. One should not allow their body parts to be touched or caressed or grant opportunity or permission for it. Feudal languages are brutally cruel.

Moreover, when a socially or occupationally inferior person addresses someone as “nee” (lowest you) during amorous play, or describes the encounter to friends with phrases like “aval” (lowest she), “I seduced and played with her,” “her buttocks,” “her breasts,” or “she grabbed my manhood,” the impact on the woman’s personality is profound. Neither the woman nor the novelist seemed to fully grasp this.

Though the woman had not committed any grave offence, I recall she was summoned to a police station, where a police inspector, as if prodding oranges for sale on the street, poked her breasts one by one with a lathi, addressing her roughly as “edi veshyaye” (lowest you, prostitute).

Since the novel was written in English, the thunderous impact and hammer blows of the local feudal language might not be fully felt or experienced by an English reader. It seems the novelist, too, did not fully understand the scandal caused by a well-known Syrian Christian woman from a reputed family. The novelist appeared to justify the woman’s actions with various foolish arguments, though I don’t recall clearly.

Now, returning to Namboodiri women.

Within the agrahara or the confined world of the illam, they lived in a state of ennui, exhausted by hearing Sanskrit mantras, smritis, shrutis, morning hymns, Upanishadic knowledge, and lines from Jayadeva’s Ashtapadi. There was no atmosphere for discourse or thought about other knowledge or English classics that enrich human personality. At the same time, their lives and personalities were chained by the glory of tradition and social opulence.

Namboodiris, temple attendants, and Nairs were neither disinterested nor unskilled in erotic matters. It seems likely they would attempt to engage Namboodiri women for such purposes.

Meanwhile, lower castes might have harboured similar desires. When Tipu Sultan invaded Malabar, even Cherumars stormed into Namboodiri illams, Varyar households, Nair homes, and more. Namboodiris skilled in mystical arts and Nairs trained in Kalaripayattu, swift as peacocks, fled for their lives. One can imagine the fate of those who could not escape.

It should be noted that before the English administration in Malabar, small kingdoms and prominent families were constantly engaged in wars, skirmishes, and invasions. However, no one would attack Brahmins, as Brahminicide was a grave social and spiritual crime, preventing the perpetrator from returning to their home or community.

Moreover, lower castes were not involved in such wars. They were not allowed to attack the homes of Hindus, temple attendants, or Nairs. Nor could they organise among themselves. Their lives were akin to cattle, kept separated and controlled.

Tipu Sultan’s invasion, however, was unrestrained by the taboos of Brahminicide or similar prohibitions.

[VED]

It is understood that the Kamasutra, written by Vatsyayana, is a Sanskrit text. This work is believed to have been composed centuries ago somewhere in northern South Asia. Although it is in Sanskrit, which might suggest that Namboodiris in Malabar could have read it, that may not necessarily be the case. The English East India Company’s officials had to make considerable efforts to rediscover this text.

Other ancient texts dealing with similar themes are also mentioned, such as Ratirahasya, Panchasakya, Smara Pradeepa, Ratimanjari, Rasamanjari, and Ananga Ranga. The last of these was reportedly written by a poet for the enjoyment of a noble from the Lodi dynasty in Delhi. When Sanskrit scholars translated this text into English, British officials noticed frequent references to a certain Vatsyayana. This led to a search for Vatsyayana’s work in Sanskrit libraries in Bombay, Benares (Varanasi), Calcutta (Kolkata), and Jaipur. Fragments of his text were found, compiled, and compared, resulting in the re-creation of what is now known as the Kamasutra.

It is also understood that the English Company made significant efforts to preserve the Vedas, Upanishads, Smritis, Shrutis, and other texts from being lost forever.

It is unclear how the people who composed the Vedas and other texts thousands of years ago published them. However, the English Company found these works in the form of palm-leaf manuscripts.

This suggests that some technology from the Vedic period disappeared along with its people. Certain Brahmin households preserved these writings in palm-leaf manuscripts for a long time.

However, it seems unlikely that all Brahmin households had such texts. Most likely had only copied excerpts of mantras or other portions of interest, also on palm-leaf manuscripts. While these manuscripts carry an aura of antiquity, they are far more difficult to read compared to modern printed books.

The likelihood of the aforementioned Sanskrit texts related to erotics being present in most Namboodiri illams in Malabar is probably very low.

Though I have not read the Kamasutra in full, a brief glance suggests it is not pornographic literature. Rather, it is a text detailing various aspects of sexuality, including strategies and their implementation. It appears to contain methods and explanations for seducing, charming, and captivating women to engage them sexually. This includes ways to win over other men’s wives, women from neighbouring households, female workers, and others. Viewed this way, it could be considered a social science text, as it likely delves into the intricacies of social behaviour.

It seems the text was written for a highly structured society, possibly with a feudal language in the background. It also feels like it was primarily intended for high-status men to read.

It is unclear how much of this relates to Namboodiris in Malabar. It seems unlikely that most of them had even seen the Kamasutra or the other texts mentioned.

Far below them, the enslaved people, treated like cattle, likely had no clear foundation for marital relationships. They may have engaged in sexual relations with whoever was available, much like animals. Moreover, like cattle being shuffled around, their personal relationships were disregarded, and their landlords would relocate them or rent them out to other landlords for labour as needed.

One would assume that Namboodiris typically did not use these enslaved women for sexual purposes. While these women were unlikely to resist submitting to high-born men, their impure bodies, foul mouths, body odour, and other traits would, to some extent, render them repulsive. However, it should be noted that, though rare, some people do engage in sexual relations with animals.

Given this context, Namboodiris likely faced the significant challenge of protecting their women from the words, erotic thoughts, and imaginations of lower-caste men. Moreover, they had to safeguard their women’s chastity.

The most problematic issue was that some Namboodiri women might have provided opportunities and access for sexual relations with other men, including those from lower castes. This could have affected the Namboodiri community in various ways.

If a lower-caste man sexually engaged with one of their women, it would cause a upheaval in the linguistic codes.

Take, for example, the incident in the novel by the woman from Kottayam, mentioned earlier. This involved a Syrian Christian woman from a prominent Kottayam family, living abroad. She allowed a very low-status man to engage with her naked body. Such a scene, in pristine English, would create an unimaginable situation.

The person above, allowing a lower-status individual to caress her naked body parts, could be addressed with terms like “nee” (lowest you), or even just her name, or “edi” (lowest you), and other such linguistic codes, transforming the relationship. After this engagement, this shift in linguistic codes becomes a rope, knot, and rein. Typically, the person holding this rein would not let go.

The Missionary Position, commonly used in sexual activity, was referenced here. However, in various other sexual postures, the woman must act with even greater submission, compliance, and subservience. Such acts can strongly influence and affect feudal linguistic codes.

To illustrate the gravity of this, consider this comparison: a Namboodiri woman submitting sexually to a Nair man is akin to an IAS officer submitting sexually to a police sepoy. The former shakes the foundation and structure of society, while the latter disrupts the hierarchy of official ranks.

Even in English, such acts would be highly negative, but in a feudal language, the negativity is a hundred or thousand times greater.

To prevent such a grave incident, the Namboodiri community maintained strict rules known as Smarthavicharam.

This was indeed a trial.

It was a significant event in those times.

[VED]

In a society where most women display their bosoms openly and many allow others to see and imagine their other physical charms, Namboodiri women face numerous difficulties by living entirely covered, only venturing outside under the strict supervision of a female companion, thus greatly compromising their privacy.

Moreover, even looking into the eyes of those from the lower classes who do not openly display subservience can feel like a wound to the soul. The clear reason for this lies in the feudal language codes themselves.

They must go out concealed behind a palm-leaf umbrella. Accompanied by a Nair woman as a companion, various issues of hierarchy, mental grievances, and conflicts may arise due to these language codes.

None of these circumstances can be considered pleasant.

Who they speak to, what they say, who they look at, who they think about, who looked at them, who smiled, and who smirked meaningfully—all these are observed, and sometimes participated in, by a constant overseer. This overseer may also pass judgments and make observations about such matters, which can lead to significant mental strain. Things are not always as they appear in films.

Furthermore, the woman defined as a servant or companion may often act as a spy. From the mental standpoint of a servant, she observes and controls the Namboodiri woman.

The constant worry and concern of the Namboodiri community revolve around the dignity, nobility, and chastity of their women.

At the same time, it does not seem likely that these Namboodiri women could maintain anything of great value in their minds, or uphold lofty mental attitudes or elevated intellectual thoughts. A small world. Small-minded people. Great dignity and nobility. A grand social position.

The English administration, introduced to a limited extent in Malabar, brought with it an English education that introduced concepts and communication codes of a standard unimaginable in this subcontinent. However, it seems most Namboodiri women could not access this.

It is noted that the Kama Sutra, by the more ancient writer Babhravya, states that the presence of a female intermediary can be highly useful in seducing and winning over another woman.

As suggested, it cannot be ruled out that some Nair individuals might approach the Nair servant, who is the constant companion of a Namboodiri woman, to seduce the young Namboodiri lady.

In the Kama Sutra, Babhravya is said to have stated that such an intermediary should say something like: “Do you know how much he (highest level he) likes you (lowest you)? If he (highest level he) cannot see you (lowest you), he (highest level he) might even fall ill.”

The intermediary then narrates tales of romance and amorous play that stir excitement and delight in the mind. Additionally, she describes his (highest level he) muscular strength, physical beauty, skills, expertise, knowledge, and more. Furthermore, she might mention how this man has satisfied the desires of other high-class young women to make her point effective.

Gradually, the intermediary also learns the young woman’s private secrets.

Slowly, she arranges for the young woman to casually meet and become acquainted with the other individual.

At the same time, she subtly informs the young woman about her own husband’s shortcomings, lack of ability, and inadequacy in matters of intimacy.

The most suitable person to act as such an intermediary might be one’s own wife. In such cases, the chances of success are significantly high.

In today’s social context, this could be likened to a high-ranking official keeping a female relative of a police constable as a constant companion for his wife, to keep a watchful eye on her like a shadow.

In this scenario, the overseer would interact most closely with the wife.

While it is not said that Namboodiri women could be influenced in this way, there is a slight possibility that the remedy itself becomes the disease. The servant is employed for the protection of Namboodiri virgins and wives. How can one be certain that this servant does not become a breach in the protective shield? The servant, being a Nair, might share information with the Nair men in her household, who could also inquire about various matters from her.

It cannot be said that Namboodiri women, who remain perpetual virgins, would never entertain amorous thoughts, especially in a life that feels akin to being confined in a prison.

During my college days, at Kovalam beach, I occasionally saw white men and women, almost entirely naked, playing volleyball and engaging in similar activities in the sand. The only clothing, so to speak, was a covering to keep the men’s dangling private parts and the women’s similarly dangling breasts from swaying, along with a small arrangement to prevent sand from entering the women’s private areas.

Once, at dusk on the beach, I stood about five feet away, watching a young woman, naked, praying while facing the setting sun. She was aware of my presence. At the time, I felt what I was doing was wrong. But later, upon reflection, it occurred to me that the woman might have enjoyed the touch of my gaze.

This is mentioned to suggest that some Namboodiri women might have mentally radiated their amorous thoughts. They would have been aware that they could neither experience nor enjoy such things in their lives.

In a society structured by feudal language codes, Nairs were far below Namboodiris. However, just as police constables today have their own unions, Nairs back then had organised and gained significant social power. Many Nair individuals acted as great lords in their small worlds. This will be elaborated on later.

If a Nair individual succeeded in gaining a Namboodiri woman for sexual purposes, it could cause a significant upheaval in the language codes. The English had no knowledge of such matters.

For a Namboodiri woman, who lives and moves covered in her clothing and behind a palm-leaf umbrella, to stand completely naked before a lower-class person would itself be a profound experience and event. Furthermore, in sexual acts, the missionary position often fails to provide the full thrill of adventure. A submissive woman might be bent, turned, pulled, stretched, twisted, squeezed, rubbed, licked, bitten, scratched, and subjected to oral acts, among other things, to be truly dominated by a lower-class man. This could provide immense mental stimulation, as the lower-class person would be dominating someone seen almost as a divine figure in the language codes.

Such events would undoubtedly create an experience for Namboodiris akin to an earthquake or falling into a pit within the framework of language codes. If such a disruption occurs in the language codes, the very foundation of their elite social status would crumble.

To prevent such occurrences, there was a robust defence mechanism called Smartha Vicharam. This will be discussed in detail in the next writing.

[VED]

When the English administration established control over nearly half of this subcontinent and introduced written laws, it had to confront diverse social customs in every region. Additionally, each caste had its own distinct social regulations. Above all, in every village, high-caste authorities wielded the power to enforce laws and punishments.

The written laws rooted in the egalitarian principles of the English language inevitably clashed with the traditional social customs of each region. That topic will not be delved into here.

Among Namboodiri communities, a stringent system of law enforcement known as Smartha Vicharam was in place. It seems fair to say that this system applied wherever Namboodiri communities existed. However, with the establishment of the Madras Presidency under the English administration, it can be said that a bridle was placed over such social laws in those regions.

It appears that Namboodiris primarily resided in three geographically proximate regions in South India: Malabar, Cochin, and Travancore.

In all three regions, Namboodiris were likely the elite. Below them, each region had various ethnic groups.

Returning to the matter of Namboodiri women, they were of the highest social order, and their characteristics reflected this status. Examining the transcendental software platforms of language and human body codes, one might find that terms like “she (highest level she)” or “they (highest level he/she)” from feudal language—representing the highest echelons of human existence—apply to them.

Consider the scenario today where the wives of IAS or IPS officers roam the streets, frequenting local markets daily. Beyond that, imagine IAS or IPS women officers themselves moving about in the same way. Such social behaviour is unthinkable in regions governed by feudal language codes.

For an ordinary person, mere words of condescension—or even a glance with such intent—can suffice to undermine the status of an IAS or IPS woman, both in her own mind and in society’s perception. In many feudal linguistic, social, and familial contexts, a woman’s status serves as an anchor and pivot. A wife must present her husband as “elder brother” or “he (highest level he)” to command respect from others. Unlike in English, a wife in a feudal language is defined differently.

If such a woman shows respect to a man or woman of lower status, it creates a sense of insecurity in her, her husband, and her family, as well as errors in the transcendental codes.

If Namboodiris sought to protect their women from those who circled around them, attempting to demean or subjugate them through words, gazes, or imaginations, and created a protective shield around them, it is hard to find fault in that. However, articulating and explaining such matters clearly is no easy task.

It seems to be in a book by Edgar Thurston—though the memory is unclear—where it is recorded that in the Madras Presidency, there was a superstition that pregnant women should not witness sights like human skeletons that could unsettle the mind.

In reality, these are not baseless superstitions. Human emotions are governed by clear transcendental software codes. Avoiding sights, sounds, or words that trigger adverse reactions is desirable, especially during pregnancy.

If the pregnant wife of an IPS officer were to find herself in an environment where women from police constables’ families address her as “you (lowest you),” “hey,” or “she (lowest she),” it could imprint suppressed traits in the personality codes of the child in her womb. This may be hard to believe, as the constable’s relatives likely address all women in their circle this way, yet they may not observe any signs of suppression in their own children.

It is akin to large fish living on the ocean’s surface. If dragged into the depths, they succumb to the immense pressure of the water.

Such observations are incomprehensible in the flat-coded linguistic environment of English. However, if feudal language speakers proliferate in England and the English begin to understand their coded word structures, they too would become alarmed. They might even lose the mental fortitude to step outside their homes.

Many today mock and criticise the Namboodiri community for keeping their women at a distance from other ethnic groups. Yet, those who say such things likely maintain similar human distancing in their private lives. They, too, impose strict controls on the women in their families. Then, they hypocritically condemn the Namboodiris for protecting their women from being drawn into undesirable paths.

Before the English administration arrived in Malabar, a Nair man or group of Nair men using a Namboodiri woman sexually would be akin to a group of police constables sexually exploiting an IPS woman today. This is difficult to grasp in English. To understand what “sexual use” entails, a simple online search for “sex positions” would suffice.

If a woman is used in this manner in a feudal linguistic environment, no trace of the elevated status upheld until then would remain. Today, such an event would cause the entire modern Brahmin class of IAS and IPS officers to collapse in disgrace.

It seems the IAS and IPS establishments take precautions to prevent such possibilities. About 35 years ago, it was heard that the establishment ensured IAS women were married off quickly, as they often had to travel, sometimes with only their driver for company.

Back then, most joining the IAS or IPS were well-versed in English, making them mentally distinct from their subordinates. Today, that may not be the case.

Now, IAS and IPS officers, as well as their subordinates, are likely educated in regional languages, sharing similar ideas, behaviours, thought patterns, knowledge, and relationships.

Moreover, feudal languages often require showing subservience in words to elders. Young women in such contexts must maintain a demeanor that shocks or belittles lower classes to uphold their status.

Given this, it is difficult to overly criticise the Namboodiris of old for keeping their women cloistered.

At this juncture, it may be worthwhile to consider the ethos of Islam, without delving into its religious aspects. Islam is often accused of cloistering its women behind purdah, much like the Namboodiris did.

Why Islam did this in Arabia is unclear. However, in a feudal linguistic society, the question is whether women should be allowed to walk public streets and perform ordinary tasks. Much could be said on this, but we won’t delve too deeply here.

Recently, I spoke to someone about needing a person to gather information from a nearby rural commercial area for a few days’ work, offering ₹1,000 per day. The candidate needed to speak English and be male. The response was: “People who know English come from high-status families. Their families wouldn’t allow them to mingle with others in this way on the streets.”

This was about men. One can imagine the situation for women from such families.

In a social environment where even men cannot freely interact, how are women expected to do so?

If a young woman from a high-status family enters a commercial establishment for such work and is asked, “What’s your name?” or told, “You (lowest you), give her a chair,” it would taint her as much as a lower-class person touching a Namboodiri woman. Such women would not venture out for such tasks unless they held prestigious positions.

Even IPS women, who hold immense authority and stand at the pinnacle of feudal language codes, still fear the words, gazes, touches, gestures, and expressions of Indians. In this region, they venture out only with heavy police escorts. Given this, how much can we criticise the Namboodiris of old for imposing strict escorts and social codes on their women?

When the English administration unified South and North Malabar under the Madras Presidency, establishing the district known as British Malabar, the Namboodiris in the region were gradually liberated from their prison-like existence. However, this liberation may not have been entirely pleasant for them. Only a few could travel to England, where they lived among the English. Most Namboodiris, freed from their confinement, were released into the midst of the lower classes in Malabar, whom they had long avoided with disdain.

[VED]

Contemporary historical writings often fail to clearly explain the reasons behind the various changes that occurred in local communities across South Asia from around the 1700s.

Some, claiming wealth and social superiority, lived almost as if imprisoned in their homes and agraharas. Below them were social strata that revered them, and further below were layers of enslaved communities. This is the true decorative pattern of the social history of this subcontinent.

Instead, English administrative officers relied on palm-leaf manuscripts, which were difficult to find and claimed to document certain practices, to write a unified formal history for hundreds of small regions.

If the European Union persists, in a few decades, Romanians, Germans, Italians, French, and others might start learning that their ancestors established British India. This reflects the current standard of India’s formal history.

Many events or practices said to have occurred in specific regions during brief periods are now firmly believed by people and communities across India to be part of their ancient heritage, despite these regions having no historical connection.

If some Namboodiri women engaged in sexually anarchic behaviour, the likelihood of them becoming pregnant was not negligible. However, there is no known evidence of contraceptive methods in local knowledge in Malabar, Pandi, Canara, Cochin, or Travancore at the time. Some ancient cultures elsewhere mention condoms made from animal parts for men. Works like Rati Rahasya and Ananga Ranga from northern South Asia reference medicinal plants for contraception, but there is no evidence that Namboodiri women used such methods.

If some engaged in sexual relations with other men, it is likely that these were non-procreative acts.

For married Namboodiri women, this was less of an issue. However, for Namboodiri women living as perpetual virgins, it would have been a significant concern.

The life of Namboodiri women was likely unbearable. Yet, because they knew no other life and many in their community and families lived similarly, they probably did not feel significant distress. The sense of being uniquely isolated was unlikely to arise.

Their lifestyle is also said to follow the ghosha system, akin to that of Islamic women. They were not to see unrelated men, travel in ways visible to others, or engage in anything beyond daily chores—kitchen work and spiritual activities. Their bodies had to be fully covered, and they ventured outside under a palm-leaf umbrella at least 4 to 5 feet in diameter, accompanied by female companions or servants.

Whether Islamic women faced or still face such restrictions is unclear, and that topic will not be explored here.

Even Namboodiri men reportedly had limited opportunities for daily tasks or recreation. For Namboodiri women, such opportunities were likely even scarcer. In Travancore, their primary recreation was likely Thiruvathira Kali. Women of all ages, except widows, participated, and this was probably a source of great joy and excitement.

In Malabar, it is unclear what replaced Thiruvathira Kali for Namboodiri women. For Nair women in Malabar, Thiruvathira was celebrated during the Dhanu month of the Kollam calendar, where women rose at 4 a.m., bathed in the family pond, and sang joyously while splashing water, dressed in wet clothes. By dawn, they returned home and changed into clean attire. (Source: Malabar and Its Folks (1900) by T.K. Gopala Panikkar). This may have provided a rare opportunity for personal freedom.

Finding precise details online today is challenging, as Malabar, Cochin, and Travancore are now collectively seen as Kerala, with formal narratives suggesting these regions were always a unified Kerala, even thousands of years ago.

In Travancore, Namboodiri women performed Thiruvathira Kali in the courtyard of their illam. A structure called chavadi and a high wall shielded the event from the eyes of lower castes. Ambalavasi and Shudra (Nair) women also joined the dance. (Source: Travancore State Manual Vol 2 (1906) by V. Nagam Aiya).

This arrangement likely allowed these women, confined in social cages, to display their physical grace, curves, and shadowed areas through dance steps in the glow of oil lamps and soft lantern light, for the appreciation and admiration of onlookers. This, too, may have been a rare opportunity to experience and explore personal freedom.

In the cool December night, under a star-filled sky, some Namboodiri men watching might have felt amorous stirrings. Beyond that, feelings of love might have arisen towards young women radiating charm and gazing with honeyed adoration.

Ambalavasi and Nair spectators were likely present as well.

Unlike Namboodiri women, Ambalavasi and Shudra (Nair) women participating in the dance were not bound by ghosha. In other words, Namboodiri women were akin to high-ranking officers restricted from going out without escorts, male or female.

I have not been inside old Namboodiri illams, but about 20 years ago, visiting the Hill Palace in Thrippunithura, I recall its rooms and corridors feeling very cramped.

Old tharavadu buildings also had small, cell-like rooms and narrow pathways.

In Travancore, Thiruvathira Kali was celebrated on the night of Thiruvathira in the Tamil month of Margazhi. The Malabar Thiruvathira day was likely close to this date.

Today, this dance is perceived as a tradition of all Kerala women, labelled as Hindus. In reality, in Travancore, it was primarily a recreational dance for Namboodiri women, with Ambalavasi and Nair women permitted to participate.

Just as Hinduism itself seems to have been appropriated from Namboodiris by other communities, this dance appears to have been claimed by these new Hindus.

On the night of the dance, participants reportedly stayed awake, immersed in revelry. Such rare moments of joy and festivity were likely cherished and fully enjoyed.

Vayalar Ramavarma wrote a song for the film Enippadikal with the lines, “Pankajakshan, Kadalvarnan, Panchashararupan Krishnan.” I recall this song being performed as part of Thiruvathira Kali. It seemed to carry a subtle erotic undertone, with lines like:


“Maidens stretch out their hands,
The mischievous one offers a cloth,
Their shyness brims in the moonlight.”

However, records suggest that in Travancore, Thiruvathira Kali featured songs like Pathuvratam and Pathinaluvratam, along with certain devotional hymns.

Other recreational activities for Namboodiri women in Travancore included Parakali, Vattukali (known as Gottikali in Malabar), Ammanam Kali, and swinging on a Oonjal.

While the above pertains to Travancore, the life of Namboodiri women in Malabar was likely equally unbearable.

I recall an incident from a few years ago in Kerala, where the Punjabi wife of a North Indian IPS officer left her husband, stating she could not live here. She found it difficult to stay confined at home, and going out meant she could not easily interact with others—an experience akin to that of Namboodiri women of old. She likely found no thrill in the subservient respect offered in Malayalam, possibly because she did not understand the language. Moreover, if someone spoke to or looked at the wife of a high-ranking officer without deference, it caused significant mental distress.

This is no one’s fault. Feudal languages encode mental disorientation.

[VED]

In Malabar society back then, Namboodiris were of the highest status, much like IAS and IPS officers today. They distanced themselves from public social life.

Consequently, Malabar society was often perceived as a land of Nairs. In every village and small town, and even around petty kings like the Samoothiri or local lords, Nairs were visible as guards, overseers, officials, and in various other roles.

They can be compared to today’s ranks from police constable to police head constable, it seems.

(I am unaware of the Malayalam terms for higher-ranking police positions, so they are presented in English in this writing.)

In Malabar, the most conspicuous group was the Nairs, as noted in Malabar and its Folk (1900) by T.K. Gopal Panikkar, BA.

QUOTE: The major portion of the book, it will be observed, deals with the life and institutions of the Nairs, by far the most conspicuous amongst the peoples of Malabar. END OF QUOTE

However, at the same time, it is written that the Nairs were entirely controlled by the Brahmins.

QUOTE: All the domestic concerns of the Nairs, all their social intercourse, all their liberty of thought and action are regulated by the arbitrary will of the Brahmin priests. END OF QUOTE

In the Malabar Manual, while various aspects of Malabar are discussed, including some about Namboodiris, it primarily focuses on the Nairs, it seems. The term “Malayali” in that book often refers to the Nairs themselves.

To truly understand the opposing social and mental attitudes created by feudal languages, one must view things from the perspective of today’s Indian bureaucratic system. I had such an experience in my youth. From that perspective, the true citizens of this country are those from IAS and IPS officers down to the constables.

Politicians, most of whom are here today and gone tomorrow, appear as a bunch of clowns who cut each other down, when viewed from this angle.

The general public, with a few exceptions, seem like a group of donkeys who suffer various speech impairments when speaking to officials, it becomes clear.

In many government matters, officials are given priority and access. I’ll try to discuss such matters in more detail later.

When approaching the bureaucratic system, the most conspicuous people are the clerks and constables. Most people cannot see or approach the higher officers.

The point is, when viewed from within the bureaucratic system, those from the IAS and IPS level down to clerks and constables are the ones who hold prominence in the nation.

The rest are like the Bushmen of old South Africa. The Bushmen lived hidden in the thickets wherever there were human settlements, but other human groups viewed them as animals or venomous snakes. They were given no consideration as humans. If they did not stay subdued, other African groups would have beaten them down.

Today’s Indian bureaucratic world can be compared to old Malabar. In this analogy, Namboodiris are today’s IAS and IPS elites.

From police head constables down to police constables are the Nairs. Sub-inspectors to non-IPS SPs are the Ambalavasis.

Namboodiri women can be compared to the wives of IAS and IPS officers or other women in their households. If desired, Namboodiri women can also be compared to today’s female IAS and IPS officers. Both groups share a sense of superiority in language codes and social authority.

High-ranking officials may face the issue of whom they can interact with. While this is not much of a problem in state capitals, it certainly is in many other places. It’s a matter of the coding in the language spoken, but I won’t delve into that here.

Once, on a Sunday, I visited the official residence of a district-level senior police officer to meet him (highest level he). He (highest level he) was playing shuttlecock. His (highest level he) partner was a young, youthful-looking police constable. It was clear that the IPS officer was playing for exercise. Although the police constable was his (highest level he) partner, the hierarchy in their language codes remained untouched.

Having said this much, let me now revisit the Thiruvathira Kali in Travancore.

In the past, Namboodiri women could not venture out or roam freely on their own. Today, those of high status experience this to some extent in most small regions. The problem arises if others fail to recognise them.

For Namboodiri women, the platform to feel energised was Thiruvathira Kali and similar events. Imagine if today, the wives of high-ranking officials and female high-ranking officials held such a Thiruvathira Kali.

In taluk and district headquarters, at government guest houses and rest houses, everyone from high-ranking officials to constables gathers once a year. There, under multicoloured lights, female high-ranking officials, the wives of high-ranking officials, and other women from their households, draped in sarees, perform a dance. (Today’s lower-class general public has no access to such visual spectacles.)

I won’t say what the outcome of such a saree-draped dance would be. However, the experience at Travancore’s Thiruvathira Kali must have been quite similar. While enjoying the dance steps of women draped in light sarees, singing and moving through various graceful poses, their beauty, elegance, and the subtle curves of their bodies, gradually becoming clearer, would undoubtedly leave an impression on the onlookers, it seems.

It’s uncertain whether the Namboodiri women themselves are the ones participating in the Thiruvathira Kali seen in social media videos today.

It’s unclear if there was obscene literature in Malabar back then. Bharani songs did exist, that’s true. However, even if they contained obscenity, they are not considered obscene literature, I understand.

In Malabar and other South Asian regions, female nudity might not have been a rare sight. Sarees produced by local handloom weaving units were likely very expensive back then. As a result, most of the lower classes probably couldn’t afford enough sarees or cloths to fully cover their nudity.

This changed when affordable yet high-quality fabrics from Manchester mills in England became widely available in British India. This brought a significant transformation in the identity of the lower classes. Even today, this seems to be something many staunch nationalists cannot bear to recall.

It’s certain that in the independent states around British India, the elites likely ensured that such high-quality fabrics were not accessible to the lower classes.

The point is, beyond female nudity, there was a long-standing practice in this subcontinent of using devadasis and other women trapped in such systems for obscene performances. The English administration put an end to that as well. I plan to discuss this further later. However, it’s said that in Malabar, there was a practice called Mohiniyattam. In this, young girls were dressed up and taken to elite households, where their manager, called a nettuvan, would have them perform various obscene acts during the Mohiniyattam dance, it seems.

This is not comparable to the refined dances of women from elite households who carry great social prestige. The dance of women, whose golden words enhance their physical splendour, might possess a profound ability to inspire and energise.The dance of women whose golden words enhance their physical splendour

[VED]

I am now going to write about Smartha Vicharam. Before that, a correction note needs to be added.

In Vol 11, Chapter 32, I had written the following:

QUOTE : It would have been better if there had been some tenet or principle allowing the eldest Namboodiri to marry four or five women. However, I understand that no such practice existed. END OF QUOTE

Upon searching Wikipedia, I came across this:

QUOTE: In each illam, only the eldest Namboodiri, known as Moossamboori, was permitted to marry. The younger brothers lived in sambandham relationships with women from Ambalavasi homes or Nair tharavads. Moossambooris, regardless of age or frailty, would take eight or ten wives. It was not uncommon then for a man over ninety to marry a bride under fifteen. END OF QUOTE

I am unsure how accurate this information is. Today, individuals have immense power to write and publicise anything. However, the idea that the eldest Namboodiri could marry girls of much younger age might have caused significant mental distress to others in the illam. Saying that the girl would face mental strain might not hold much depth, as the social environment then was very different. The notion that a husband should be handsome and youthful is not something greatly considered in India even today. The clear attraction lies in the husband being of high status.

The phrase “under fifteen” in the quote above is noteworthy. I am unsure if this is correct. Fifteen years might have been considered an advanced age for marriage back then. In British India (not India as a whole), the legal age for a girl to consent to marriage was as low as ten years. In 1891–92, the English administration made significant efforts in the Bombay Presidency to raise this to twelve years through the Age of Consent Bill, clashing with local nationalists, and eventually succeeded in passing it into law—a historical fact.

Now, let’s move to Smartha Vicharam. This is clearly described in texts like the Malabar Manual, Travancore State Manual Vol 2, and Malabar and Anjengo. However, one point to note is that Namboodiris, in the past, did not share their community’s customs with outsiders for discussion.

When I searched online for Smartha Vicharam, I found various writings. Some of these take a rather low-quality approach. Moreover, most of these writings treat the topic as pertaining to a single region called Kerala. Anyone with some discernment can quickly understand that Malabar and Travancore were two distinct regions with different populations. The Namboodiris in these two regions might have had some slight connections, but that’s all.

Additionally, the three incidents from the 20ᵗʰ century often highlighted today in relation to Smartha Vicharam are not from British Malabar. Instead, they likely occurred in Cochin or Travancore, it seems. However, I note here that I have not thoroughly studied these matters.

In the past, there was no way to challenge the verdict pronounced after a Smartha Vicharam. However, I understand that in British Malabar, the English administration questioned its legal validity.

In the Malabar Manual, published in 1887, the following words are found:

QUOTE: There seems to have been in former days no appeal from the decision of the Gramm assembly to any other authority, but within the last few years the decision of such an assembly was called in question, and the attempt that was subsequently made to overrule its decision greatly exercised the minds of the “twice born” in all the Malayali countries. END OF QUOTE

The English administration’s disruption of such Hindu cultural practices might still cause significant mental distress to Hindus today. However, this may not be the culture of Hindus, meaning Brahmins, at all. Rather, in many primitive places around the world, local customs and marital practices might have been equally peculiar.

I recall seeing on the internet a few years ago an Indian intellectual, now thriving in the USA, who criticised the banning of Sati—a widely infamous practice conducted with great zeal in parts of South Asia over time. This intellectual claimed that such legislation by the English administration obstructed Indian women’s natural rights, personal freedom, and human rights.

Typically, accusations against a Namboodiri woman might be raised by her (highest level she) own family members, neighbours, fellow Namboodiris, or even her (highest level she) own servant or companion. If this was indeed the reality, there is something not often highlighted.

In feudal language settings, it’s highly likely that someone who doesn’t conform to others’ dictates, or who doesn’t live according to family discipline, hierarchies, or the lifestyle of the family or village, will be suppressed by others.

Seeing the extreme cruelty in Smartha Vicharam, it seems that the woman might have committed some other grave error in the language codes. For example, I have personally witnessed in Travancore that if an ordinary citizen addresses an official or superior as “lowest you,” it provokes intense hostility in the other person—enough to lead to a deadly assault. Today, things are much the same in Malabar.

Smartha Vicharam imposes a significant financial burden on the Namboodiri family. However, removing an intolerable person often becomes a necessity. The blemished one must be expelled. If not, the discipline and regimentation of the family and community might become entirely disrupted.

The king must order this trial. Based on this order, a panchayat is formed for the trial, or vicharam. It is chaired by a Bhattathiri Namboodiri.

In terms of caste rank, Bhattathiris and Agnihotris are distinguished Namboodiris, just below the highest-ranking Namboodirippads. Bhattathiris are reportedly not allowed to perform yagnas. Instead, they are expected to engage their minds in fields like philosophy and logic.

In this Smartha Vicharam panchayat, the next members are one, two, or a few Mimamsakas. On Wikipedia, I found the following:

QUOTE: Mimamsa philosophy dictates that rituals and customs prescribed by the Vedas must be followed without any lapse to attain moksha. Brahmin priests have an undeniable role in this philosophy. Through such a stance, Mimamsakas helped maintain Brahmin dominance and the caste system. END OF QUOTE

It seems that the Mimamsakas mentioned here are the ones participating in Smartha Vicharam. I don’t have further details.

Next in the panchayat is a Namboodiri given the role of Akakkoyma. This person also has specific responsibilities and duties in the trial.

Following that is the Purakkoyma, an official appointed by the king. This person has no role in the trial itself. His (middle level he) duty is to stand with a sword in hand during the trial to maintain discipline. This can be likened to the duty of today’s police constable, it seems. I couldn’t determine the caste of this Purakkoyma.

I’ve heard of three roles—Akakkoyma, Purakkoyma, and Melkkoyma. I plan to discuss these in more detail later.

Whenever a Namboodiri woman faces allegations of immorality, sexual misconduct, vulgarity, or obscenity, the first step is the Dasivicharam. This is conducted by the Namboodiri illam itself. It involves questioning the servant, asking whether her (highest level she) mistress, or Antharjanam, has engaged in any immoral acts.

Every Namboodiri illam would have such servants—it’s a necessity. Just as an IPS officer has no value without a police constable.

Some Namboodiri women might even have personal servants dedicated to them (highest level she). (Much like IPS officers having their own orderlies.)

These servants are also called Vrishali.

If the servant, acting as a companion, confirms the allegations against the Antharjanam she (highest level she) oversees and secretly monitors, the Namboodiri woman’s fate is almost certainly sealed. Seeing such matters, one can truly understand the pitiful state of Namboodiri women back then.

One’s own servant truly stands as a threat in life. Yet, they (highest level he/she) must live with such a presence. If, for any reason, they (highest level he/she) fall out with this servant or clash for some other cause, it becomes a real problem.

One must remember that the language is feudal. However, the hierarchical codes don’t always have a fixed sense of direction. Age, family prestige, personal relationships, implied family ties, sudden shifts in mood—many such factors can abruptly alter the direction of these codes.

The servant is a worker but also a Nair individual. In that sense, she (lowest she) is someone who extracts subservience from the lower castes. When the Antharjanam goes out, this servant walks ahead or alongside, loudly shouting “Ay!” to warn men visible in the distance to step aside—a familiar figure. The men heed this warning, much like drivers today obey traffic police signals. Such acts are enough to stir grand emotions in the mind. Moreover, this servant might often be older, which is quite likely. All these factors in feudal language can drastically shift the directional components of words.

It’s akin to asking a young female IPS officer to be interrogated by an older female police constable—that’s what happens in Dasivicharam. While this pertains to Namboodiri women, I feel this point might need to be revisited when discussing the internal regimentation of today’s police department.

If the servant confirms the allegations, the Namboodiri illam informs the king for a Smartha Vicharam.

A fixed amount must be paid to the king as a service fee.

[VED]

Here, I quote what V. Nagam Aiya states about Smartha Vicharam in Travancore in Travancore State Manual Vol 2:

QUOTE: The Smarta Vicharam or the system of enquiry into sexual offences prevalent among the Nambudiris is one of the most important of their institutions and perhaps one of the most cruel. END OF QUOTE

It is described as an extremely cruel trial. However, in truth, if viewed from an English perspective, all forms of police conduct, interrogation methods, court trial procedures, and prison punishments in today’s India are equally cruel.

I might delve into that topic later.

The fact that a girl or woman accused of bringing disgrace is disowned by her (highest level she) own father, mother, siblings, uncles, aunts, and other family members without showing any mercy or affection might seem astonishing from an English perspective. However, such an attitude still exists in feudal language regions today, and that’s the reality.

In society, parents only favour children who bring them great prestige. A son who elevates them (highest level he/she) to the status of “highest level he” is considered good. A son who reduces them (highest level he/she) to the status of “lowest he” is deemed wicked.

In Travancore, the trial fee to be paid to the king was 64 fanams, or 9 rupees, back then. This money went to the Sree Padmanabha Temple, as the Travancore king was merely a vassal of Sree Padmanabhaswamy.

However, in Malabar regions, this fee might have been paid to the local ruler of that area.

Once the servant confirms the allegations against the Antharjanam during Dasivicharam, the entire identity of that Antharjanam changes. She (highest level she) is no longer referred to by her (highest level she) name but as “Sadhanam” (thing). This term is still used today to demean others.

The next issue for the Namboodiri illam is that this “Sadhanam” cannot be allowed back into the house. Anticipating such issues, a small house called the “Fifth House” (Anchampura) is built in the northeast corner (per Vastu) of the illam.

Back then, illams had four sections: Vadakkini (north), Thekkini (south), Kizhakkini (east), and Padinhattini (west). Together, these formed a house or illam. This might be why the separate small house is called the “Fifth House,” it seems.

This building appears to be meant for Namboodiris who became impure in some way. Namboodiris who lived in sambandham relationships in Shudra homes might also have to stay in this house upon returning, it seems.

Now, let’s turn to the Namboodiri woman demoted to the status of “Sadhanam.” She (highest level she) is moved to the Fifth House. Even then, the ghosha system persists for her (highest level she), meaning she (highest level she) cannot directly speak to anyone.

I’ll now move into the details of Smartha Vicharam. But first, let me address why the Namboodiri community exhibits such cruelty.

If a kingdom had only Namboodiris, they might not face various mental pressures and stresses. The presence of the lower classes speaking feudal languages around them is a significant problem. They (highest level he/she) must constantly maintain subservience in their (lowest level he/she) words, looks, stance, gait, and expressions.

Consider this scenario: a group of young teachers are sitting together in a place with no students or other people around. In such an environment, these young people would behave simply as a group of youngsters. However, if a student or parent suddenly arrives, their demeanour changes. Instantly, their behaviour and expressions shift to that of a “Sir.”

Back around 1985, in Bangalore, someone told me about seeing a group of IAS trainees who had just completed their training. He (middle level he) said that seeing them together felt like watching a group of college students hanging out. But if an office peon or clerk entered their midst, their demeanour would change.

The presence of the lower classes speaking feudal languages significantly influences and affects the demeanour of those above them, and that’s the reality. However, things are not like this in English. The clear reason is that English lacks the complexity of interpersonal relationships like “lowest you - lowest you,” “middle you - middle you,” “Sir - Sir,” and even more intricate dynamics. In English, there is only one interpersonal form: “You - You.”

In the “lowest you - lowest you” relationship, casual verbal jabs, playful teasing, shoulder taps, and playful banter can naturally occur. This is because such a relationship is deeply intimate and touches the heart. If their (highest level he/she) subordinates see such people in the same light, they (lowest level he/she) might fail to perceive the grandeur and superiority in them (highest level he/she).

This issue troubled the English to a small extent during colonial times as well. When the English lived in colonial regions, they (highest level he/she) were aware of the principle that the local people speaking feudal languages around them should never see or hear anything that would diminish their respect for them (highest level he/she).

In England back then, no matter what job one did, the verbal codes remained unshaken. Whether it was toilet cleaning, laundry, sweeping, taxi driving, fishing, clerical work, head-loading, being a doctor, or a doctor’s assistant—whatever the job, the words “He” and “She” never wavered.

However, if such information reached the local feudal language speakers interacting with them, it would be a problem. This likely caused unease for the English in colonial regions at times. But it seems that the English living in England never quite understood this issue.

[VED]

I base this writing on information from texts like the Travancore State Manual, Malabar and Anjengo, and Malabar Manual. The Malayalam writings found online today also somewhat confirm these details.

However, one thing I always pay close attention to is absent in English writings, and I don’t recall seeing it in Malayalam writings either. The issue lies in the phrase “questioned.”

In English, terms like “questioned” or “interrogated” are understood in a certain way by an Englishman, but in feudal languages, they are perceived differently.

In Malayalam, just hearing “the police questioned” conjures an image of the person being addressed as “lowest you,” “hey, boy,” or “hey, girl.” Moreover, this addressing might often be in a thunderous tone. The person would be referred to as “lowest he” or “lowest she.” Beyond that, often just their name is used for both addressing and referencing. In Travancore, terms like “son of a whore” or “daughter of a whore” would certainly be used. Today, with the advent of secret audio recording facilities, such abusive language might have reduced, but only slightly.

I plan to delve deeper into this topic later.

Since the accused Namboodiri woman has been defined as a mere “Sadhanam” (thing), we can believe she (highest level she) would be addressed as “lowest you,” “hey, girl,” or “hey, Sadhanam,” and referred to as “lowest she” or “Sadhanam.” However, the only solace here might be that the questioning would be done by a high-caste Namboodiri (comparable to a high-ranking IPS officer today).

If the Indian police decide to deal with someone today, the first thing they do is have constables address them as “lowest you,” “hey, boy,” or “hey, girl.” This wipes out any self-esteem the person might have had. This reflects the true state of Indians today.

In many government offices, I’ve seen constables and clerks similarly define those of lower social standing as “lowest you,” “lowest he,” or “lowest she.” I’ll set this topic aside for later, but let me add this: the police, officials, and others are drawn from the people themselves. The character of the people is shaped by their language.

The local Smartha receives the authority letter from the ruler. He (middle level he) summons the Mimamsakas, Akakkoyma, and Purakkoyma, and they gather in a building near the Fifth House where the Sadhanam resides. Typically, this gathering occurs in a large room attached to a nearby temple. Everyone interested in the trial can come and assemble here.

From there, the Smartha, Mimamsakas, Akakkoyma, and Purakkoyma move to the Fifth House. Upon arriving, they stage a small drama.

The Purakkoyma doesn’t enter the Fifth House. The others are stopped by the Sadhanam’s companion, or Vrishali (the servant). This servant might have been guarding the Sadhanam (Antharjanam) for days, much like a jailer today. It’s important to understand that jailers in prisons are also the lowest-ranking members of the prison department. They (middle level he/she) are the ones who address those in jail as “lowest you,” “hey, boy,” or “hey, girl.” Such practices cannot be compared in any way to systems in English-speaking nations.

How the servant now refers to her (highest level she) former Antharjanam is a critical matter. She (lowest she) might use terms like “lowest you,” “hey, girl,” just her name, “Sadhanam,” or “hey, Sadhanam,” especially if she (lowest she) holds any grudge in her (lowest she) heart.

A policeman might be very decent in personal life, but once he (middle level he) dons the uniform, he (middle level he) might become someone who only spews abuse—such might be the case here. The former Antharjanam is now a Sadhanam. The former servant is now a prison guard.

The Smartha asks the servant why they (highest level he/she) are being stopped. Here, too, it’s not recorded which terms the Smartha uses to address the servant—“lowest you,” “middle you,” “middle level you,” or “sister.”

The Smartha and his (middle level he) group pretend to be completely ignorant, playing the fool. The servant says, “The Sadhanam is inside. It is that person from this illam.” (QUOTE: In feigned ignorance of the cause for thus being stopped, the Smartha demands an explanation, and is told that a certain person is in the room.) Here, too, it’s unclear which term the servant uses—“lowest she,” “highest she,” or “sister.” If she (lowest she) uses “lowest she,” it means the servant has already mentally judged her (highest level she) Antharjanam as guilty and reduced her (highest level she) to a mere “lowest she.”

The servant clearly states that this person (lowest she/highest she), known by this name in this illam, the daughter, sister, mother, or other relative of so-and-so, is inside.

The Smartha expresses surprise, pretending not to understand how such a person ended up here, and seeks more details.

He (middle level he) hears the accusation. With that, the Smartha Vicharam begins.

It’s worth noting that if we compare this situation to modern India, it’s akin to an IPS woman being held in a cell with a female police constable acting as her (highest level she) guard. If the constable addresses the IPS officer as “hey, Sadhanam!” the mental torment the IPS officer would feel is the same as what the Antharjanam experiences.

Though the Antharjanam is now a “Sadhanam,” the ghosha system still applies to her (highest level she). She (highest level she) is not allowed to speak directly to unrelated men.

Thus, she (highest level she) does not come out. The Smartha asks questions through the servant. The servant repeats the question to her (highest level she). She (highest level she) answers, and the servant relays the answer to the Smartha.

The Sadhanam, or Antharjanam, must admit to the accusation against her (highest level she). Without her (highest level she) admission, the trial cannot proceed.

Most often, the Sadhanam or Antharjanam admits to it. However, sometimes she (highest level she) does not. If that happens, removing this obstacle becomes the Smartha’s next responsibility.

The Smartha addresses the Antharjanam’s various mental states of dignity. “Don’t lowest you know how the world works? Doesn’t lowest you, a woman born into such a high family, know that they (highest level he/she) wouldn’t expel lowest you from the house without any basis? (I doubt ‘middle level you’ would be used here. We can consider them the forefathers of today’s Indian police and local language teachers in their behaviour.) Think about lowest your family. If this trial drags on, won’t it financially ruin them (highest level he/she)? Don’t lowest you have any compassion for them (highest level he/she)? Are lowest you trying to destroy them (highest level he/she)?”

Most often, exhausted by such degrading words, combined with pleas and humiliation, and due to the provocative behaviour of her (highest level she) former servant-turned-guard, the Sadhanam (Antharjanam) admits to the accusation.

I prefer to use “Antharjanam” in this writing instead of “Sadhanam.” Words hold great power. “Sadhanam” and “Antharjanam” are entirely different. Moreover, I consciously use “highest she” here. Because this is a person standing without any support or weapon. If I used “middle she” or “lowest she,” that person would become a mere corpse. Then anything could be said about her (highest level she). Anything could be thought. Mockery and abuse would naturally roll off the tongue.

At the same time, using words like “highest she” or “highest he/she” brings forth the personality shimmering like silver light within the trembling individual, rising and beating its wings in that aura of dignity.

The words used by the Indian police and officialdom, as well as local language schools, pour filth into the souls of those they target. While some of those oppressed may rise to great heights and the golden standards of verbal codes, the vast majority in this country remain reduced to the level of “Sadhanam”—that’s the reality.

This matter deserves to be written about separately. Perhaps later.

It’s hard to say how old the Antharjanam might be—possibly from ten to fifty years old. While ten years old might seem unbelievable today, the reality was different. James Scurry, an English sailor who became a prisoner of the French and was handed over to Tipu Sultan’s soldiers, records that after being converted, he (highest level he) was given a wife who was not even eleven years old. He (highest level he) testifies that this woman was highly capable, efficient, and a very loving wife.

When escaping from Tipu’s territory, leaving behind his (highest level he) wife and child, he (highest level he) records the mental stress he (highest level he) endured:

I had then one child, sixteen months old, by one of the most affectionate of women; she was always suspicious I should leave her, if opportunity offered. She was certainly right in her conjectures; and my answers were uniformly evasive to her questions on that score. The battalion was under arms, while I was in my hut looking at her and the child alternately. Her soul was in her eyes; and surely never a woman looked at a man with more eagerness and anxiety. I fain would have taken her with me, and the child, who was then smiling in my face. I was eager to give them a final embrace; but fearful of the consequences, my God! what were my sensations then! and even now, after a lapse of more than thirty years!

Girls back then, often dismissed today as mere silly children, were likely not so foolish. The world was smaller then. By twelve years old, a person would be of marriageable age. Whether the marriage was pleasant depended on the dignity and treatment received in the husband’s home. Even today, the underlying intent of many marriages is to secure a kitchen worker, a washerwoman, and an unpaid caretaker for the parents.

CPS’s mother became a mother at the age of thirteen.

I write this not to encourage child marriage but to point out that it’s wrong to define people of the past as mere fools.

[VED]

Before detailing the Smartha Vicharam in the Malabar Manual, it states:

The episodes in the trial of a caste offence among Nambutiris are so curious, and throw such light on their ways of thinking and acting...

In reality, this claim is quite simplistic. Unless one understands that feudal language codes, which envelop and emotionally influence everyone, lie behind all such behaviours, reactions, and provoked actions in a feudal language world, hearing these stories would be like watching a dance without knowing the story—offering no insight into the reasons or explanations.

After discussing the proceedings of Smartha Vicharam, I’ll clarify the above point in detail.

I’ve already mentioned that the Smartha demands the Antharjanam (now referred to as Sadhanam) admit to the accusation. Most often, under the pressure of words and in complete isolation, the girl or woman admits to it. Standing right in front of her (highest level she) would be the servant, akin to a police constable, who either confirmed the accusation or made the accusation herself (lowest she).

There’s no guarantee that the servant wouldn’t use terms like “lowest you,” “hey, girl,” or “hey, Sadhanam.” Moreover, she (lowest she) might even use words like “hey, whore.” I don’t know how female police officers in India today behave toward women. Can we say Indian police don’t use such words and abuses?

Once the Antharjanam (the reader should note she (highest level she) is no longer an Antharjanam) admits to the accusation, the Smartha and his (middle level he) group return to the large room where they had gathered earlier. There, undoubtedly, a crowd of Namboodiris, Ambalavasis, and Nairs would be waiting with curiosity and a tinge of amused interest. It seems they (middle level he/she) would all be men.

Since the Antharjanam has been reduced to a mere Sadhanam, we can assume everyone can refer to her (highest level she) as “lowest she.” It’s crucial to recognize that such matters carry immense social power.

Imagine the situation if everyone started referring to an IPS officer as “lowest she.” Human personality is deeply embedded in language and words.

The Smartha narrates the entire incident to the gathered crowd, detailing every minute aspect. The Akakkoyma is not allowed to speak but listens to the Smartha’s account with great attention. If there’s any error in the Smartha’s narration, the Akakkoyma immediately takes the cloth specially placed on his (middle level he) shoulder and spreads it on the ground—a sign that there’s a mistake in the Smartha’s account. The Smartha then reviews his (middle level he) words and corrects the error.

This custom adds significant value to the trial system. In this region, mob trials were traditionally common in many places. Such customs might have existed, at least among the higher castes, to control their brutality.

If the Smartha’s correction still doesn’t resolve the error, the Akakkoyma does not remove the cloth from the ground.

In such cases, the Smartha must return to the Antharjanam (Sadhanam) and ask the questions again.

This is the first day of Smartha Vicharam. Additionally, the Antharjanam’s family would have arranged a grand feast for the Smartha, his (middle level he) group, and all the Namboodiris who attended. This hospitality continues until the trial concludes.

The trial can stretch on for a long time because no evidence, including circumstantial evidence, is accepted to confirm the accusation. The only acceptable proof is the accused Antharjanam admitting the guilt in her (highest level she) own words.

If such a trial were watched as a drama or a movie, one would only grasp a fraction of the harsh realities of the Antharjanam’s life. She (highest level she) needs food daily, must bathe, brush her (highest level she) teeth, and going to the toilet is a significant issue in itself.

While most lower classes back then used open spaces for toileting, illams and similar households likely had a “pit latrine”—a large pit with two wooden pieces to place the feet, covered with palm leaves. Specific lower castes were designated for this task, coming at night to remove the night soil. Feudal languages viewed those doing such work as a form of filth themselves.

Note: Refer to the earlier discussion on the “Conception of a transmissible personality” related to feudal languages in 9 - 19 (The Supernatural Software Platform of Good and Bad Omens).

While mentioning this, we must also address the situation in England at the time. I’m not sure what toilets were like there, but it seems everyone had access to toilets. However, even there, cleaning toilets and removing night soil were tasks performed by various workers. There’s no evidence that doing such work caused one to be perceived as “tainted” in England.

Beyond the distinction of liked and disliked jobs, distinguishing between “tainted” and “non-tainted” jobs in old English is difficult. Even if such a distinction existed, it likely had no connection to the “taintedness” seen in feudal languages.

The teenage or youthful Antharjanam, confined in the Fifth House, would need to step outside the house daily for the tasks mentioned above, coming into the sight and proximity of lower-class workers. The lower classes would undoubtedly view her (highest level she) as an IPS officer expelled from her (highest level she) job—a certainty.

These workers might approach the Antharjanam without the subservience in their (lowest level he/she) words or looks. Because today, she (highest level she) is no longer an Antharjanam but a Sadhanam. Her (highest level she) face and demeanour would show a significant decline—dried up, emaciated, blackened, with dirty clothes. The lower classes would aim to deepen this decline into a vast pit. Their (lowest level he/she) non-submissive demeanour carries immense power. In feudal languages, further lowering someone who is already down is something that brings great satisfaction.

At the end of Smartha Vicharam, if this woman is expelled beyond the gate of the house, she (highest level she) might end up in the hands of the lower classes in other regions. Even if that doesn’t happen, among the lower classes, she (highest level she) would be just a woman. This refers to the language aspect, not the physical. The realization among the lower classes that she (highest level she) is “just a woman” is a harsh one. Physically, no one would see anyone having thrown a grinding stone at this young woman. But the experience of a massive boulder of words crashing onto her (highest level she) body might well be hers (highest level she).

This teenage girl would need to bathe daily, wash her (highest level she) clothes, possibly cook food, and wash dishes. It’s unlikely the servant would do these tasks for her (highest level she).

Typically, individuals socially connect by aligning with a house of social power. Those from socially weak households might sometimes distance themselves from the house, seeking social connections elsewhere. This can occasionally help them climb out of the linguistic pit of their family’s status.

For the Namboodiri teenage girl (or woman) subjected to Smartha Vicharam, the only way to escape the prison of the Fifth House is to admit to the accusation. However, doing so means losing all the protection offered by the verbal codes of family prestige.

Things were not like this in old England. There, losing connection with the house meant needing to find a place to stay elsewhere—that was the primary issue. But there was no phenomenon of losing protection in language codes.

Here, however, not only is the protection of language codes lost, but the person falls into a social pit. Feudal languages create societies with deep pits and high mountains. While standing bewildered in such a pit, massive boulders of verbal codes might come crashing down on the body from above. The experience of being pulled down from below might also arise.

[VED]

The accused woman, charged with a lapse in chastity, would be in a truly pitiable state. There would be immense pressure from all sides to admit the guilt as quickly as possible and be expelled beyond the gate. Her (highest level she) own family would no longer be welcome in Brahmin gatherings or other Namboodiri households. This is to prevent the impurity associated with the accused from spreading to other Namboodiri families through her (highest level she) family. All of this is deeply tied to the supernatural frameworks of feudal language codes—not mere superstition.

The accused woman’s family would be isolated. Even if she (highest level she) admits the guilt and is expelled, the family must perform a purification ritual or homam to regain entry into Namboodiri society.

If the Smartha Vicharam drags on, the cost of hosting feasts for each gathering would become a heavy burden on the family.

Social respect in feudal languages is a harsh reality. It’s what many strive for daily, beseeching gods for it. If maintaining ties with their (highest level he/she) own children, parents, or relatives risks losing social prestige, respect, and the subservience they (highest level he/she) expect from others, people won’t hesitate to abandon those relatives. This, too, is among the silent capabilities of these demonic languages.

In South Asian (Pakistan, India, Bangladesh) military contexts, if a woman in a commissioned officer’s household is accused of an illicit relationship with a lower-ranking soldier, military discipline would deem it preferable to erase her (highest level she) from the officer’s address entirely.

Before British rule established its flag in Malabar and introduced written laws applicable to all citizens of British India equally, the situation for such accused Namboodiri women was indeed dire.

If the accused Antharjanam does not admit to the allegations made by her (highest level she) own servant, everyone would strive to make her (highest level she) confess. Though this servant is a worker, she (lowest she) isn’t from a lower-class Tiyyar or similar household. Instead, she (lowest she) is a worker in the elite Namboodiri illam—a Nair woman, comparable to a modern-day police constable. She (lowest she) is someone most lower classes in the region regard with great subservience and reverence.

This servant, wielding such subservience and social power, would likely have a strong sense of ego. The experience of suppressing this abandoned Namboodiri woman might bring her (lowest she) a rare sense of fulfillment.

If the Antharjanam shows no inclination to admit the guilt, it would cause significant strain on the illam. Thus, various efforts would be made to force her (highest level she) to confess.

At the Fifth House in the courtyard, the Smartha, his (middle level he) group, and others would gather. The accused Antharjanam would stand behind her (highest level she) servant. She (highest level she) would whisper answers to the questions in the servant’s ear, and the servant would repeat them aloud.

Overall, this would be a deeply distressing atmosphere and experience for the girl. She (highest level she) likely wouldn’t have received adequate food, would have to face harsh questions in front of others, and endure demeaning address and references. Her (highest level she) family would keep insisting, “Admit it, admit it.” To top it off, the Smartha might offer a blatant lie: “I’ll request the ruler to build you a thatched hut on the banks of a holy river for the rest of your life. Just admit to the accusation.”

Her (highest level she) family might also make promises: “We’ll give you a good share of the family property.”

What unfolds is a demonic nature undetectable in English in any way. A person once socially respected is now addressed as “lowest you” by everyone. This “lowest you” is a small sound, but it carries the immense power to topple a person, leaving them (highest level he/she) utterly blackened.

Consider the mental collapse an IPS officer, once wielding great authority, would experience if female police constables began addressing her (highest level she) in this manner. The capacity to imagine this collapse doesn’t exist in the English vocabulary.

If this still doesn’t break the girl’s resolve, the conspiracy moves to more effective methods.

If there’s circumstantial evidence supporting the accusation, the Antharjanam might be wrapped in a mat and rolled down from the roof of the illam into the courtyard below. What’s often not explicitly mentioned in such events is the impact of words. All the female workers of the household might collectively stab at this woman with words like “lowest you,” “hey, girl,” “hey, Sadhanam,” and “lowest she.”

A prolonged trial is a significant problem. The illam’s members would keep making decisions. They (middle level he/she) might let a venomous snake into the Fifth House, even into the room where this woman sleeps. This, too, is something many cannot mentally endure. Sometimes, instead of a snake, other creatures that evoke extreme fear or disgust might be used. Many would admit to the accusation at this point.

Another extreme method used to resolve the issue and determine the truth of the accusation is to release a viper into the girl’s room. The viper would be allowed to stay with her (highest level she) for a set period. If the viper bites her (highest level she) and she (highest level she) dies, it’s taken as proof the accusation was true. If the viper doesn’t bite her (highest level she), the accusations are deemed false, and the Sadhanam is reinstated as an Antharjanam.

It was only when British rule established written laws without bias and appointed officers closely tied to the English system that such practices were eradicated in British Malabar. However, in nearby Cochin and Travancore, it took decades for these practices to change.

Studies today report that the Indian police use snakes to control and mentally suppress individuals in their custody.

Understanding the depth and breadth of the changes British rule brought to social customs is difficult today. Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb, known as a staunch conservative, once planned to abolish the local custom of Sati. However, this ended in failure. The lesson Aurangzeb likely learned was that opposing his followers’ interests could lead to his own downfall.

The girl confined in the Fifth House would almost certainly admit to the accusation—she (highest level she) wouldn’t be able to hold out otherwise.

Once the Sadhanam, formerly an Antharjanam, admits to the accusation, the trial moves to the next stage.

The next phase involves questioning her (highest level she) about who participated in the immoral acts with her (highest level she). Having admitted the guilt, she (highest level she) would now be fully subjected to the demeaning terms of Malayalam and Malabari languages, such as “lowest you” and “lowest you (variant).”

The girl would name each person involved in the immoral acts with her (highest level she), one by one. After each name is recorded, the questioner would repeatedly ask, “Who else, who else?” The presence of phrases like “lowest you, speak” and “lowest you, say” must be specifically noted. It wouldn’t be “middle you, please say,” “sister, please say,” or “highest you, please say.”

Though historical accounts often don’t explicitly mention such minute details, these are, in fact, the most powerful historical insights.

Those named by the woman as having engaged in immoral acts with her (highest level she) are trapped. They (middle level he/she) cannot defend themselves against the accusation. However, the Smartha and his (middle level he) group meticulously examine the evidence provided by the girl.

[VED]

Namboodiris must unassailably maintain their social dignity and high status through feudal language words steeped in stark hierarchies. If lower classes begin referring to an Antharjanam as “lowest she is just a whore,” “a slut,” “a tramp,” or “a harlot,” the Namboodiris risk losing their social dignity, spiritual aura, and societal authority.

Imagine a scenario where government peons openly say such things about a senior government official and laugh mockingly in her (highest level she) presence.

The rituals associated with the trial atmosphere, the solemn environment maintained there, and the promises made by her (highest level she) own family would undoubtedly impact the mental strength of the isolated girl or woman. She (highest level she) will confess.

Sometimes, this confession might be entirely true. At other times, it might be partially true. In some cases, no wrongdoing may have occurred, with only hollow circumstantial evidence creating suspicion.

Once she (highest level she) confesses, this person is no longer a Namboodiri woman. She (highest level she) is freed from the constraints of the ghosha system. In reality, this could be a significant state of freedom.

However, this isn’t the freedom understood in English. This is merely the freedom attributed to the lower classes. It’s not the sweet, liberating freedom from servitude that high-status individuals willingly experience in a confined yet dignified setting.

The Smartha asks the girl or woman who confessed to come to the courtyard. She (highest level she) steps out of the room. If she (highest level she) was standing behind a palm-leaf umbrella, she (highest level she) puts it down and comes forward. She (highest level she) sits in front of the Smartha and other adjudicators. From now on, there’s no need to cover her (highest level she) face in front of anyone. She (highest level she) can even chew betel leaves and areca nut in front of everyone without hindrance. However, the reader should note that the person referred to here as “highest she” would now be merely “lowest she” (or “that woman”).

A night is fixed for pronouncing the verdict. The local ruler would also be present. The Smartha clearly states all findings. Then, he (middle level he) announces that the names of the men involved with this woman will be revealed by his (middle level he) “child” or “boy.” The terms “child” or “boy” (possibly meaning “son” or “lad”—I’m unsure if the translation is accurate; these are terms from the Malabar Manual) refer to a Pattar. Namboodiris sometimes referred to Pattars this way, or even as “little Pattars.”

Namboodiris and Embranthiris (Kannada Brahmins) wouldn’t take up this task, so Pattars were appointed for it. Though Pattars are Brahmins, they (middle level he/she) are of lower status. Often, only financially strained Pattars would agree to this role.

Following this, the ritual of expelling the woman who confessed is performed—a clapping ceremony.

In the presence of several women, the Smartha excommunicates her (highest level she) from the community. A woman from a specific Nair community, responsible for performing impurity removal in the region, formally removes the accused woman’s palm-leaf umbrella (her/that woman’s). Everyone claps. Amid this noise, the woman is driven away. From then on, neither her (highest level she) family nor others maintain any connection with her (highest level she).

Her (highest level she) future life will be more alienated than if she (highest level she) had died.

If she (highest level she) had a husband, he (middle level he) would perform atonement rituals. After obtaining permission from the ruler and hosting a purification feast for notable individuals, he (middle level he) would reintegrate into the community.

The fate of the men named by the confessed woman as her (highest level she) accomplices in immoral acts would also be dire.

As early as 1792, when English rule began in Malabar on a small scale, the English Company started considering the establishment of a justice system in the region. Initially, they (highest level he/she) delegated judicial authority to local rulers, but they (highest level he/she) soon realized this was a grave mistake. Over the subsequent decades, the powers of local ruling families were gradually reduced, and systems enforcing clear, written laws were established instead.

The reason for mentioning this is that, in earlier times, men named by a confessed woman could prove their innocence by dipping their hands in boiling oil at a specific temple without sustaining injury.

It’s unclear how effective this method was. However, once the English established a justice system in Malabar, accused men began filing civil cases for defamation. Previously, they (middle level he/she) too faced excommunication from society, and some even resorted to suicide.

The situation of a woman or girl who loses everything and is cast into a feudal language society is truly tragic. Emerging in complete distress, without any physical protection, many would attempt to exploit this woman. A person once defined by divine words like “middle you,” “highest you,” “Antharjanam,” “lady of the house,” “highest she,” or “noble lady” would now be subjected to the harsh blows and caresses of intimate, low-status terms like “lowest you,” “lowest she,” “hey, girl,” or just her name, used by those far below her (highest level she) socially. Moreover, the opportunity to touch and caress the physical remnants of her (highest level she) divine aura, not yet fully faded, might bring rare satisfaction to many lower-class men.

In North Malabar, in the Cannanore region, there was reportedly a movement to provide refuge to such women, called the Moothadathu Aramanakkal in Chirakkal Taluk. It was said to be run by men called Mannanar and women called Machiar, who were reportedly from elite Tiyyar (matrilineal Tiyyar) families in the area.

Women who ended up here were allegedly married into Tiyyar families in the region. However, only those accused of illicit relationships with men from the Tiyyar caste and above were admitted to this movement. If the illicit relationship was with someone from a caste below Tiyyar, such women were sent to a refuge in the eastern hilly forests of Kuthiramala.

Some women, left with no support, ended up on the streets. Many were ensnared in various forms of sexual exploitation. At the same time, some women were taken as wives by Chetti merchants in Calicut, where their social status wouldn’t be poor. In feudal languages, having a poor social status is a significant issue.

Smartha Vicharam causes immense financial loss to a Namboodiri family. They (highest level he/she) undertake it solely out of fear of being expelled from the Namboodiri community. This fear becomes terrifying due to the presence of lower classes in society. If such a lower-class group didn’t exist, no one would fear such an expulsion. When there are people at the depths of society ready to pull others down, those above become desperate to cling to their heights. The deep abyss is indeed a terrifying depth, whether on water or land.

[VED]

In Vol 11, Chapter 43 of this writing, the following was noted:

QUOTE: Before detailing the Smartha Vicharam in the Malabar Manual, it states:

Quote: The episodes in the trial of a caste offence among Nambutiris are so curious, and throw such light on their ways of thinking and acting... End

In reality, this claim is quite simplistic. Unless one understands that feudal language codes, which envelop and emotionally influence everyone, lie behind all such behaviours, reactions, and provoked actions in a feudal language world, hearing these stories would be like watching a dance without knowing the story—offering no insight into the reasons or explanations.

After discussing the proceedings of Smartha Vicharam, I’ll clarify the above point in detail. END OF QUOTE

During the period when English rule was established in various parts of the world, the English, along with other British individuals who entered English colonial territories, sought to observe and document the peculiar social behaviours of each region in various writings.

Some of these observers suspected that the strange social behaviours, reactions, provocations, aversions, and social phobias they witnessed were influenced by the nature of the local language.

For instance, George W. Stow, F.G.S., F.R.G.S., in his book The Native Races of South Africa, written well before 1904 based on his observations, quotes Max Müller:

These African investigations “have especially drawn our attention to the fact that the modes of thought, and among them the religious ideas, are dependent upon the forms of the language, and upon the stimulus which these forms give to the poetical faculty, etc.”

Interpretation: These African investigations have drawn our attention to the fact that modes of thought, including religious ideas, depend on the forms of the language and the stimulus these forms provide to poetic faculties.

It’s unclear how much Max Müller understood about the power of feudal languages. However, he was German, and German seems to be a feudal language as well. Yet, it appears Müller had significant ties to English movements during his lifetime.

During the English colonial period, numerous social studies were documented, containing deep insights. However, today, in many countries, such writings are not brought to public attention because those in power often disapprove. This is because current regimes teach their own versions of local history in schools and colleges—versions that are often nonsense. They wouldn’t welcome anything that clearly exposes this.

Namboodiris were the elite in society back then, akin to today’s IAS or IPS officers in the context of local feudal language codes. Everyone in society was expected to offer them the highest verbal codes. They (highest level he/she) held the unchecked authority to define many in society with terms like “lowest you,” “lowest he,” or “lowest she” (or their equivalents in local terms).

This is a simple fact. They (highest level he/she) likely wouldn’t demean ruling families or local chieftains to that extent. The kings, chieftains, and royal family members of that time can be compared to today’s ministers, MLAs, and other politicians.

Namboodiris seem to be the local Brahmins of Malabar, Cochin, and Travancore. The “thiri” in Namboodiri likely signifies divinity, a term some others have also adopted.

Pattars and Embranthiris are foreign Brahmins, meaning Brahmins who migrated from other regions. Namboodiris viewed them as inferior, likely addressing them as “lowest you” in verbal codes. As noted in the previous writing, Namboodiris even referred to Pattars as mere “children.”

Most Pattars earned a living through various occupations, with only a few being major landowners.

Embranthiris were generally a backward community, primarily engaged in spiritual activities. They sometimes tried to pass as Namboodiris, as records suggest. Note the use of “thiri” in both names, indicating a claim to divinity.

Pattars and Embranthiris often showed interest in forming Sambandham relationships with Nair women, but Nair women reportedly preferred Namboodiris for such alliances.

If this is accurate, Pattars and Embranthiris would have had to show subservience and respect toward Namboodiris in their interactions and speech.

This social interaction space inherently maintained a stark hierarchy. If this hierarchy remained undisturbed, the social space would exhibit silent discipline and peace. Readers should note this.

Among Namboodiris themselves, there were various ranks, with the highest being the Thampurakkals, also known as Adhyans. They were commonly referred to as Namboodiripad. The “pad” in their name is the divine term, which others have also appropriated.

These Adhyans were considered highly divine. According to Hindu (Brahmin) tradition, life is divided into four stages, as outlined in the Vedas, known as the Chaturashrama Dharma: Brahmacharya, Grihasthashrama, Vanaprastha, and Sannyasa. Being highly divine, Adhyans were not required to observe the third and fourth stages—Vanaprastha and Sannyasa—nor were they obligated to perform yagnas, as they (highest level he/she) were deemed that divine. Their status can be likened to the highest-ranking IAS officers today.

However, the highest among them was the head of the Azhvanchery Mana in Athavanad, Ponnani. This individual can be compared to India’s Cabinet Secretary, with the Mana likened to the Cabinet Secretariat. Before English rule arrived in Malabar, this family was arguably the most powerful in the region. They (highest level he/she) also held the spiritual authority to ritually confer Kshatriya status on royal families through the Upanayana ceremony, recognizing the Namboodiri lineage’s spiritual supremacy.

The physical reality of these claims must be sought in language codes. If this supremacy is true, it would be clearly inscribed in the verbal codes of the local feudal language. However, this inscription isn’t physical—it exists in the supernatural realm of language codes. By exploring that realm, one might clearly see the presence, power, and divinity of these verbal codes.

Below the Adhyans in divinity are the Asyans among Namboodiris. They are obligated to perform yagnas. Some of them address issues through tantric practices, meaning they are tantriks—a hereditary role. However, not all tantriks are Asyans.

Here, too, a careful examination might reveal a clear arrangement of feudal language verbal codes. Maintaining this arrangement without disruption manifests as the peace, order, and discipline observed in the region.

However, someone unaware of how these language codes function wouldn’t understand this. Many might search for the reasons behind this order in the Vedas, Upanishads, Smritis, Shrutis, or epics like the Ramayana and Mahabharata, delving deep into their intricacies and returning with vast knowledge. It’s uncertain whether such knowledge would include anything about language codes.