Ajagalakundalam - A Choice of Substance

 

Travelling is an exciting way to meet new people and learn new things. It was the second day of our tour in Vietnam.  Having travelled together before, a few in the group were already bonding better than we were. The others, like me, were still trying to overcome our initial reservations and connect. Nevertheless, the group had started mingling a little more than before. We were also smiling at each other. Someone passed a packet of nuts from the back of the bus, and we were okay with taking some out of it. The group was slowly gelling into a friendly band. Mr Jeeson Jose, the tour manager, was finding it easier to get people to come to the front and use the bus mic as we travelled from one destination to another. Chachan was at the mic.

“Can anyone tell us the meaning of Ajagalakundalam (അജഗള കുണ്ഡലം)?” he asked. This was at the end of the “Chachan, Thottu Makkale[i]” introduction.

I had never heard about Ajagalakundalam. I was still trying to figure out what the word was when someone from behind said, “Aja in Sanskrit means goat, and gala means neck. Kundalam in Sanskrit means an earring.” 

What could be an earring doing on a goat’s neck?  I thought.

While I was still guessing, Chachan chipped in, “It is the tuft of hair hanging from the goat's neck.” He had been an award-winning farmer, so I assumed he knew what he was talking about. Ajagalakundalam, after all, was a high-sounding name for a goat’s beard. In reality, not much is known about it beyond its hanging around to be seen. 

Chachan, a man with immense practical knowledge and life experience, had more to offer. 

“Many people we come across are like Ajagalakundalam. They only mark their presence and apparently do nothing beyond that. It is up to us to decide to be an Ajagalakundalam or go beyond that,” he said, concluding his first of the many talks. 

Everyone clapped as Chachan returned to his seat.

Later that night, reading up on the subject, I stumbled upon another equally interesting word, Ajagalastanam (അജഗളസ്തനം). Stana (स्तन, സ്തനം) in Sanskrit means breast, and in animals it refers to the udder or teat. Ajagalastanam is the fleshy appendage hanging under the goat's throat. Called a wattle, it too seems to serve little beyond just being there. 

Lying in bed, with sleep playing hide and seek with me, I realised there was more to the two strange-sounding words that essentially meant insignificant or useless existence.

We come across very visible people who make noise, look promising, yet deliver nothing when required. They are there just to be seen and demand attention. On the other hand, there are people who, despite their insignificant visibility, are significant by their contribution. One doesn't have to be in any powerful position to be more than useful. A doorman who smiles or a waiter serving and making you feel good makes life beautiful. There are people who, by their very presence, give you the confidence required. Some teachers, parents, friends, and even strangers can make a difference, while others in the same category can be present yet add no value. I have come across both varieties. Even on this very tour, there were people who came in with help on many occasions, when they could have easily looked the other way. I looked back in life and recognised many an Ajagalakundalam. 

It was easy to look at others and judge.  I began to wonder how many of us, in our own ways, are merely hanging around in the lives of others. We might have occupied seats of authority, chaired meetings, joined conversations, spent a lifetime working. We were physically there, but did our presence really make any difference?

Then out of nowhere, the spotlight turned on me. It always happens to me. Am I an Ajagalakundalam or Ajagalasthanam? Have I made a difference to others, or have I merely been a filler, a space stealer?

To claim that I made a difference to everyone I met or interacted with will be preposterous. To many, I would have been nothing beyond an Ajagalakundalam or Ajagalasthanam or both combined. That is for them to judge. 

Did I try to be of any use? That, I will have to answer my conscience.

But one thing became certain. I was looking at life differently. I suddenly started seeing and appreciating people a little more. The fried cricket and worm that were offered, a helping hand, a “How is she now?”, a pinch of dried fenugreek, a gesture of concern, a tap on the shoulder, a packet of biscuits passed on; everything was falling into place and meaning much beyond what was apparent. Each act had taken people beyond being Ajagalakundalams. Perhaps the real measure of a life is not which and how much space we occupied, but how much meaning we left behind. Chachan’s words now assume a different meaning. 

We could choose to matter or choose to be mere matter. The choice is ours. Two apparently meaningless appendages had suddenly acquired a meaning far beyond themselves. Perhaps that is what words and experiences do to us: they make us look at ordinary things differently. That was one great takeaway from Vietnam.

Some more from Vietnam and Cambodia in the pipeline...

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[i] Read my previous blog, Chachan, Thottu Makkale

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