A thing of beauty ...

I am glad that am alive to hear and enjoy that moment in time when I hear the sudden and beautiful burst of the koel that seems to sing its heart out.

Why does it coo so sweetly ?What makes its melodies burst forth and enchant my mundane life?

The cooing of the koel suddenly transforms a ugly world into a beautiful one with promise of better tidings and filling a despondent heart with the hope that all is not lost amidst the grim realities of life and harshness of death as the subtle beauties of nature also a hidden facet of the creator glimmers through to gladden a heart.

That upliftment is momentary but the unfettered connection with the beautiful aspects of creation is real and mutual.A spontaneous absorption with and enjoyment of all that is good ,beautiful and blissful.

A thing of beauty is a joy ,but not for ever ,only for those priceless seconds coming from somewhere unknown and unbidden!

Sham .

Few weeks back I read a touching article about how caged birds fall into depression ,refuse food and die by constantly pecking themselves and that the place for any bird was the wide sky and tree tops.The writer a woman based in Chennai had given her blog address ,inviting readers to view photos of tropical birds.

When I visited it ,was greeted by excellent photos of parrots,kingfishers etc found in and around Chennai.I was intrigued by a advertisement running at the corner. On clicking it ,to my shock I saw that the ads were regarding caged pet birds,the exact address where they can be purchased,not only in India but world over!

I tried to register my protests on her comments column but they didnt gain entry .They were blocked.

This unethical deception makes me wary of articles appearing in the popular daily,inviting its reader to visit their blog. That newspaper is currently spear heading a campaign against 'paid news' .Under what category would this crass commercial article they have published with or without verification come under?

Mobile in MTC.

If you are forced to travel by bus in Chennai ,take some cotton wool to close your ears if you are tense or sit back and enjoy if you are in a relaxed mood because ,invariably there will a person [man or woman] speaking so loudly on the mobile[like shouting in trunk calls of yore] that the entire bus from the driver to the passenger at the back seat will get to hear each and every bit of the conversation.

The entire bus will know what that person ate for lunch,what clothes are going to be purchased ,which relative is visiting ,details of fracas with in-laws or bosses and who said what !! Be prepared at times to hear blatant lies spoken by young men to their bosses like 'Sir I am at Ooty Sir ' unaware or not bothered about 50 pairs of ears hearing this atrocious excuse in the heart of Chennai!

All you lonely souls bereft of human company and juicy gossips your fix is just a bus stop away . Board a M.T.C. bus and bid goodbye to your blues at least for a while!

Churidhar aninnda sorgame'

When I first heard this song I wondered what made the lyricist to give so much importance to a dress once considered as the outfit of Punjabi's and Muslims inhabiting the North western parts of India.

Till recent times through out south India a girl on entering her teens switched over to half- sari ,from frocks and pavadai.When I look around me in Chennai not a single half sari clad girl is in sight.Every young girl looks like a Punjabi. When I travel deep south I see that even village girls have abandoned their half sari's and are clothed in churidhars!

Now I see only a sea of churidhar clad girls and women around me in the buses ,in shops , on the streets and in the beaches .

whilst the craze for cricket has unified young men all over India ,the churidhar mania of the current generation has unified all young women of India .It has become a national dress, the graceful but cumbersome sari to be worn only on occasions like festivals and marriages !

The churidhar has bridged class and religious divisions.First the urban middle class wore it .It was soon followed by the lower class and within a matter of few years villages considered citadels of conservatism witnessed a silent revolution with the' churidhar' replacing the half sari !

Girls studying in colleges have fought tooth and nail with their managements in courts of justice as far away as in W.Bengal and more recently from Porur in Chennai against the rules forbidding them to wear churidhar to college as against the sari and have been victorious in their battles as both the Calcutta High court and Madras High court passed orders declaring the churidhar as a decent dress of modern India more or less at par with the sari !

Emergency servise ?

When I visited Madras High Court recently I saw several white Maruti vans parked within its precinct[ I suppose in strategic places where clients converge in large numbers] with words Notary Public emblazoned all over them which no human eye could miss .
If not for these words these vans with their flurry of activity can be easily mistaken for ambulances and the employees of the lawyer standing at the rear entrance of the van holding the Notary stamp readily in their hands to jab it on any piece of paper extended to them [ for a fat fee though ] resembled the para medics holding drips and injections in readiness to be administered to critically injured patients being transferred into the ambulance .

Is rendering Notary services to public such an' emergency service ' ? I got to know the,' gravity' of such services rendered only on visiting the High Court campus.

Blame it on the bell boy.

Few days back the news was that a van carrying primary school going children of a private school over turned after skidding off the road near Kancheepuram.Miraculously no child was killed . All of them escaped with minor injuries and that the van driver was absconding . He fled the accident scene immediately to escape the ire of passers-by and the children's parents . This is second such incident in this month.
'
The next day the follow up news was that the sleuths[ 'Sherlock Holmes' ] of the police department unearthed not the where abouts of the van driver but the fact that the school to which all those tiny tots were proceeding to, was functioning without formal recognition and that the government swooped swiftly to shut down all such schools.

I am confounded by the brazen act of the government.Instead of enforcing the laws strictly whilst granting driving licences ,pulling up traffic police men who turn a blind eye to flagrant violation of traffic rules,for example allowing motorists of two wheelers to place their helmets like a trophy on the petrol tank and not on their heads which it is intended to protect, putting in place measures to control over speeding and ensuring sincere and effective policing and quick nabbing of offenders ,the govt has pounced on a totally unrelated issue i.e whether the school those innocent children were proceeding to has received govt recognition or not!

The screwy logic put forth is that the school van was racing towards a English medium Matriculation school [that wasn't recognized]that was faraway in preference to a nearby govt ,school. Hence the factual existence of that school was prime cause of the mishap!

The quality of education imparted does require scrutiny but does that take precedence over the life of tiny tots entrusted into the custody of errant drivers emboldened by lax enforcement of traffic rules?

Avataars of Autos.

Once you have struck a bargain regarding the fare and made the decision to board the auto and have taken your seat ,the driver becomes the 'king'.

If the driver is middle aged he will fill your unwilling ears with his woes-always financial .He will give you the minutest details of the loans he has taken,the meagre amount he makes from plying his auto in the perennially potholed roads with self congratulatory perseverance,the dishonesty of petrol pump guys who specifically targeted him and filled his tank with adulterated petrol there by profiting at his expense ,the exorbitant rent he has to pay the owner of the auto and the parsimony of the passengers he has to cart all day [meaning you].

If the driver is sozzled ,you had it .He will launch a diatribe on the perversity of politicians and policemen and then philosophize about life and god!You surly must pay heed to the philosophy being expounded as only that can comfort you and help you develop a detachment towards life as he skids and stumbles through the traffic dangerously .

If the driver is a young chap barely out of his teens he will whiz past cars ,dart in and around belligerent buses ,and drive at a break neck speed like as if he was negotiating the race tracks of Chozhavaram. Your screams and plea to drive at a lesser pace will fly past deaf ears and you will be dumped at your destination with an triumphant air of one who has just won the formula car races.

Travelling by auto in Chennai is a challenge that can be overcome only by' hardy' bargainers who possess ' sturdy' hearts.

'United we stand divided we fall' was the mantra of the congress party that spearheaded the freedom movement after arriving at the conclusion that India repeatedly succumbed to foreign invasions owing to the proliferation of tiny kingdoms squabbling amongst themselves.

Immediately after independence Sardar Patel succeeded tremendously in shearing off the sovereignty of a mind boggling 500 Princely states with a iron hand, and in their amalgamation within the Indian union.

In the current political scenario there seems to be a reversal of that sacrosanct principle.The clamour for breaking existing states into two or more is getting shriller day by day. A fall out of the population increasing in leaps and bounds that demands proximity of its rulers for effective governance and is also indicative of the soaring levels of the confidence of the politicians and people that splitting states into smaller states will in no way dilute the concept of Indian nationhood.
Bharat has come to stay.

The Apping syndrome continues......

Our huge neighbour which has made stupendos strides in its eoconomy and is feted world over as super power in waiting has also succumbed to the apping syndrome if reports in a daily is to be believed. In view of the upcoming business summit next May ,a section of the population that have stuck to their comfortable pyjamas ,traditional Chinese garb are being advised ,counselled and may in future be coerced to shed them in favour of Western suits so that they can impress the Western delegates and visitors when they land in Shangai.

We are also super power in waiting with a booming economy but will we or our neta's shed the dhothi,kurta pyjamas and sarees and switch over to Western suits in order to impress Western delegates?

Our culture is as ancient as China's but our sense o f individualism and natural fondness for democratic values are far far deeper than our neighbours and will shed our traditional attire only to please ourselves and not to please foreign visitors.No government in power will ever dare to impose a dress code on us as it is sure to be thrown out in the very next elections.

Men may come and men may go .......

I started writing my diary at 14 years of age . Since then a lot of changes have taken place in my life ,in my country and in the wide world.

I went through the rumble and tumble of a teenager's life,studied hard ,graduated in Law then on getting married settled down to domesticity and reared two children two adulthood.

India witnessed a succession of elections and a variety of Prime ministers . Two decades back the Congress party that was ruling India since independence did a U turn from its socialistic policies and liberalized the economy. There after a tremendous economic development was witnessed that catapulted a old,sick poor and tottering nation on to the exalted platform shared only by the rich nations of the world.

In the out side world tumultuous events took place. The citadel of communism USSR broke up and western democracy was supplanted in its place. the eye ball to eye ball confrontation between the soviets and the US at the height of the cold war was replaced by a warm handshake of friendship.The wall separating East and West Germany for decades was broken.Beijing suddenly transformed from a city of bicycles to a sea of cars.The highly westernized Iranian
population known for their stylish dressing suddenly switched over to burkhas and the men started sporting long beards. Apartheid that had a monstrous hold over S .Africa melted away under Mandela ,with the Whites and Blacks starting to live amicably side by side .North and South Vietnam rejoined after decades of being in war with one another.And a black man is for the first time in the history of the US is holding the reigns at the white house!

A sea of changes and catastrophic turmoils were witnessed all over the world,in India and in my life .

Despite all these changes one thing has remained comfortingly constant.When I was 14 years old our sworn enemy was Pakistan and now when I am past 50 the enemy is still the same old Pakistan.The conventional wars of the earlier years have been substituted by terror attacks by the enemy from across the borders , right into the heart of our country only to be countered by loud rhetoric's ,hectic diplomacy and threats of surgical air strikes by our politicians on and off.

Thus one thing that has stood the test of time and has stood strong and firm as the rock of 'Gibraltar' amidst all these churnings in individual life,society ,politics and economy is the stead fast enmity between India and Pakistan!

The lines of the poem 'Brook' that immediately comes to my mind is--''Men may come and men may go but I will go on forever''!

The romantic ragpicker.

The lean rag picker ,dirtily clad loads his cycle cart with the saleable trash he burrows out of garbage bins without flinching at the stench,his eyes restlessly scouring the heap of garbage whilst cycling down the streets of Chennai is an artist at heart .

He has decorated the handle bar of his tricycle with a bunch of plastic flowers long since discarded by its owner!

And the Golden Peacock goes to.......

If slum dog millionaire won Oscars due to its depiction of the deplorable conditions of slums that exists inIndian cities,I am of the opinion that the films made on the following subjects are eminently eligible to bag our National film awards viz -The Golden Peacock either in the general or in the foreign category.
'
1. A film on the' Stolen Generation ' portraying the harshness of Australians in tearing away the children of the aborigines--[the original settlers of the continent who are living there for the past 50,000 years ] and institutionalize them in the name of civilization.

2.A film on the pitiable extermination of Red Indians who once roamed the American continent freely and the poverty of those who survived to be confined to 'Reservations'.

3.A film on the subtle racism that exists in' Secular 'British society govt, and in the police force.

4.A film on Indian Shikar and African Safari showcasing the hunting spree of the colonial rulers that wiped out to extinction, its once burgeoning wild life population.

Lagaan versus Slumdog millionaire.

Two films that raced to the Oscar's final list from India with a gap of a couple of years or so between them were' Lagaan' and 'Slum dog millionaire.'

Lagaan inspires patriotic fervour whilst Slum dog showcases the triumph of the individual. Poverty forms the backdrop of both the films.

In Lagaan the characters are untidily clad and live in a bare ,arid and poor village. Their conditions evoke pity and sympathy but the graphic potrayal of gutters and a child dripping with sewage in Slum dog evokes only disgust and revulsion.

The former is in tune with our culture and can be appreciated by all Indians who possess the collective memory of the humiliations heaped on them by their colonial masters'.Cricket ' which has become one of the most important factor in unifying the current generation has been skilfully used as a tool of defiance and patriotism ,by the Indian director of the film.

The latter is in sync with Western notion of India and the way they want to see India.That despite a enviable growth rate of 7 to 8 % in times of global recession and its economic boom, India is only eligible for a Nobel in 'Filth' .The British director has risen to the occasion admirablly and has lavished his Western audiences with mouth watering scenes.

In Lagaan the portrayal of poverty is as aesthetic and idyllic as the writings of R.K.Narayanan whereas in Slumdog, it is crude and revolting, as is portrayed in Adiga'S and other Indian Booker prize winner's writings.

Lagaan lost the race .The Slum dog went on to win the Oscars .But I'll bat for Lagaan any day.











lavished his Western audiences with mouth watering scenes.

Life's yearning for itself !

I live in one of the most crowded ,noisiest and busiest part of Chennai.Hundreds of people walk , race in motor bikes with their horns in full blast , swoosh in cars up and down and thunder by in autos ,on the road adjoining my flat all day till late at night .

The harsh clanking of the metalic L.P.G cylinders being thrown down from the trucks conveying them from the outskirts of the city on to the waiting cycle carts is heard most of the day.

The grating sound made by the water pumps that are cranked through out the day accompanied by the high pitched voices of women hurling choiciest abuses at each other in their eternal fights over water pierces my ears every day.

Yet amidst all this cacaphony of sounds I also hear the shrill screeches of squirrels,the pleasant screeches of parrots,the mumblings and grumblings of pigeons, the musical cooing of koels,the warble of mynahs,the trilling and twittering notes of some invisible birds and ofcourse the cawing of the omni present crows and the piteous mewing of kittens.

Where do all these animals and birds live?There are very few trees around.Where is the hole of the squirrels that run screeching across my balcony chasing one another?How do they escape being the crafty crows supper and frolic around merrily?Where do they all disappear at night?What shelters do they seek to escape the downpour when the skies open up?

Along with 100's of people living and trampling around brashly and noisily ,these tiny creatures are also living ,gathering food ,eating,giving birth to young ones or laying eggs ,and nourishing their young ones to adult hood, unobtrusively!

A whole drama of life is unfolding right before our human eyes yet most of us are unaware of this and to those who are like me it seems so mysterious and yet comforting!

White man's burden.

After the success of 'slum dog millionaire' at the Oscars ,the slum that is opposite to our line of middle class flats has suddenly become a hot tourist spot ,to be gazed at rapturously by foreigners-mostly western and Japanese tourists.

They don't need to pay hefty sums to tourist guides as their favoured destination is just few yards away from the comforting presence of their 5 star hotel. All that need be done is to hop out of their luxurious suites , cross the busy throughfare and they fill find themselves bang in the middle of Eldorado!


The rising tide of slum tourism is in full spate.I see a lot of young, middle aged and old ,white and yellow couples staring at the tenements ,the water pumps, garbage bins,stray dogs,goats ,cows, and hens lumbering around.Most of them invariably, photograph only the most dirtily clad persons near the filthiest part turning a blind eye to 100's of well dressed slum dwellers and cleaner spaces.

Why are the Westerners so enamoured of what they think is the other side of India?In fact all these slum dwellers are 100 times better of than their village brethrens!All of them live in concrete houses ,own gas stoves and have gas and water connections,T.V sets ,motor bikes and some of themeven cooltheir homes with split A.C's!They send their children to study in English medium schools and to Engineering colleges.

If these Westerners are influenced by Slum dog millionaire to see Indian poverty in its resplendent form they should visit remote villages where people build houses with mud , eat and sleep on mud floors, collect twigs from far and wide to cook the only meal of the day - supper.The best part of the day is spent in trekking miles to fill a pot or two of potable water .It is the very few lucky one's who can afford to send their children to schools run by the govt freely.

Why is dirt to which one is naturally revolted and poverty from which every one shies away is so attractive to Westerners? Are their motives sadistic are altruistic?

What will they do with these photographs of filth?Show case it in their cozy drawing rooms as a mute testimony to the other side of the rising super power and be relieved that their leadership over the world is still intact or mobilize funds to save [we] the poor Indians?

The white man is yet to shed his burden!

Size zero .

Size zero is the epithet attached to the Bollywood actress Kareena Kapoor of late, either in magazines or in advertisements or in promotions of movies.

Does size zero imply looking as famished as a Somalian woman and getting rid off all those micro mgm's of extra flab and becoming skinny?

Kareena has lost her' bloom ' she was blessed with bountifully, prior to this tag attached to her .
Our country sides and villages are replete with women possessing 'size zero' figures or even 'minus zero ' figures if such a measurement exists in the fashion world.
Almost all of them walk more gracefully than their urbane' counterparts stomping down the modelling ramps or sway to music much more rhythmically than Bollywood heroines, whilst fetching water carried on pots piled one over the other, balanced on their heads ,from wells and rivers miles away from their villages homes .
The only difference is that the village belle's are swathed in yards of clothing after much scrimping and saving to cover all, whilst the Bollywood queens splurge away a sizeable portion of their fortune to fashion designers to acquire and wear skimpy dresses to reveal all!

The Lost symbol.

Dan Brown seems to have run out of imagination and has dipped generously into his earlier creations--Angels and Demons and The Da vinci code to present a hotch potch story.

The journey of Langdon in a subterranean maze is tiring and there is nothing new about it .Vatican has been replaced by Washington DC.

The character Mala'k reminds one of the albino villain of his earlier novels.And the suspense regarding his lineage has the echo's of Angels and Demons.


Barring a few chapters where the villain chases the heroine the novel is easily 'down puttable'.


I hope that the Lost symbol would be the last of his 'Symbol series'. The concept of Symbols that caught the imagination of the readers of his earlier books , has lost its authenticity and is as childish as a cave man's drawings.

I laugh so that I may not cry----anon

These are few of my favourite one liners which I enjoyed reading and some of which made me laugh.

After a good dinner , one can forgive anybody , even one's own relations. ----Oscar Wilde

Money is something that you have got to make in case you don't die.-----------Max Asnas

The world is filled with willing people; some willing to work ,the rest willing to let them.---Robert Frost.


Historians are like deaf people who go on answering questions no one has asked them---Leo Tolstoy.

I will not allow my daughters to learn foreign languages because one tongue is sufficient for a woman.-----------John Milton.


Give a man a free hand and he'll run it all over you.------Mae West.


Seize the moment .Think of all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart. ----Erma Bombeck.

Britain has invented a new missile .It's called the civil servant--it doesn't work and it can't be fired .--- Walter Walker.


An Iranian moderate is one who has run out of ammunition.-------Henry Kissinger.


Most politicians look like people who have become human by correspondence course.---A.A.Gill.


All political parties die at last from swallowing their own lies.------John Arbuthnot.


God created the poet ,then took a handful of the rubbish left over and made three critics. --T.J. Thomas.


Time is the only critic without ambition --John Steinbeck.


It is only a auctioneer who can equally and impartially admire all schools of art.----Oscar Wilde.


My movies are the kind they show in prisons and aeroplanes, because nobody can leave.--Burt Reynolds.


He was a self made man who owned his lack of success to nobody.--- JosephHeller.



Let's go some place where we can each be alone. --- Broun


Knowledge is power , power corrupts. So study hard and be evil. anon


The more you complain the longer God makes you live. anon


Well, this day was a total waste of makeup. anon


I know God will not give me anything I cannot handle. I just wish he didn't trust me so much.---

Mother Teresa.



I laid my wife Beneath this stone For her repose And for my own. ---------Chief Ottawa.
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Tawang was recently in news because the Tibetian spirutual leader Dalai Lama visited a 500 year old Buddhist monastery located in Tawang, a mountainous region of Arunachal Pradesh and the Chinese across our border objected to this visit on the grounds that parts of Arunachal Pradesh belongs to them and that the much respected leader [inIndia as well as inthe world] was visiting the place with the intention of fomenting trouble amongst the Tibetians living there!

The T.V. news channels showed previously recorded pictures of people standing in long queues to cast their vote during parliamentary and legislative assembly elections.It also showed Indian tri colour flags fluttering in every building as also on the entrance to the Buddhist monastery and Tibetian Lamas clad in majenta robes speaking in fluent hindi !

One look at the population smiling at the T.V. camera's makes me wonder.Most of them look like Chinese!In fact most people in the north eastern part of India have Mongolion features and one can seldom distinguish them from the neighbouring South east Asians .

Deep down south of our country there are people who are as black as the inhabitants of the dark continent.

Yet we have the Irula's the snake catching tribes of south India, one of the lowliest ,dark skinned and poorest castes, conducting week long festivals with the sole purpose of staging Ramayana the great epic of all Indians.

In Manipur a remote Indian state buried in the confusing conglomeration of the seven states of the north eastern part of India , a section of the population are strict vaishnavites who recite the 'Gita 'as devotedly as their counter parts in the cow belt.

In the far flung mountainous regions of Ladhak and Arunachal Pradesh there are numerous Buddhist monks chanting prayers and meditating on Lord Buddha who is revered throughout India India as the 10 th avatar of lord Vishnu.

Despite glaring differences in our physical appearances, colour,and language there is a invisible thread binding us all into the notion that we are all Bharatvasi's, namely the collective memories of our ancient epics and legends, the inborn feeling of pride at the sacredness of our land-i.e. 'Punnya bhoomi' as it was trodden by hero's like Rama the ideal for a perfect man [Purushothaman] and scores of Rishis and seers through the centuries and the unshakeable belief in the principles of Karma , gives us all a sense of belonging, in which ever corner of India we live or whatever colour or features we posses!

We try not to think about it .

After an hour of reading aloud and explaining certain passages I decided to call it a day when Pugazh a frail ,dark and totally blind young man in early twenties felt his braille watch and said meekly ''M'am the time you have allotted for us is 1 hour and it isn't over ,there is still 10 minutes left''.

At this I said ''it is not possible to start a new lesson and finish it within 10 minutes''.to this he replied ''I want to ask you a few questions '' and proceeded to do so without waiting for my reply.and asked ''what did you feel the first time you saw us?''

I was taken aback by the directness of the question but nevertheless decided to answere honestly. I replied that it was one of my childhood terrors to lose my eyesight and to blunder around helplessly.That whenever I saw a blind person on the street I would look at them curiously feel a pang of pity and then move away forgetting them in the daily business of life.And that2 years back when I came in close contact with people with visual impairment I was over whelmed by pity and felt sorrowful and wondered at the cruel sadism of the creator in creating people with such disabilities.And that this sadness slowly evaporated when I found that whilst I pitied their plight they didnot pity themselves ,they moved around confidently and were just like any other youth interested in cricket, movie stars and politics! They heard me out quietly,

Then I asked Pughaz a thought tormenting me for the past 2 years since I actually started reading to them but never had the heart to talk about it or clear my doubts openly ,whether he felt sad and enraged at what fate had handed out to him?

He and another youth replied ''very rarely,that to only when people are discourteous ,like those waiting at the bus stand who donot tell us the bus numbers or when a conductor is rude or when my scribe shortens my answeres in exams''.

Once again I was taken aback These insults and slights are also common among the sighted. This is not inherent to their disability.At times when I take a bus and when I take time to board the public transport vehicle with its steep steps the conductor's' have yelled at me for being slow and some of them have rudely adviced me to take an auto.

So I pressed on and asked ''don't you miss seeing the sun,sky,moon,stars,leaves,your face in the mirror or your mother's or some girl's or watching T.V or films''? At which surprisingly all of them answered in unison ''No''.I could'nt believe my ears, as I felt that they maybe putting on a brave face I said ''Are you sure''? They were except, Pughaz who said ''yes at times when I frequented the beach with my B'ed class mates[sighted] I did feel sad that I could'nt see when they were having a merry time but I push away such thoughts immediately and try not to think about it.''

Another blind youth said ''Amongst the disabled lot we are the luckiest and those with ortho problems [those who cant walk ] are the worst .We thank god that though we cant see we are mobile and there fore independant.'' I was reminded of the proverb 'I was sorry that I didn't have shoes till I saw a man without legs'.

To me eyesight was and is the most important sense . How can one live in total darkness ?Yet these V.I youth who are sightless since childhood and have accepted it as matter of course seem to be undaunted by their disability!

Here I am who has been pitying the V.I. all my life for being deprived of the visual treats the world has to offer and there they are giving it only a passing thought and getting on with life cheerfully!


























It seems that these blind youth who are sightless since childhood have accepted their disa

11 fools play and............

''Cricket is a game where 11 fools play and 11,000 fools watch'' is the observation made by George Bernard Shaw .I am in total agreement with that British seer.

I fail to understand as to why instead of just enjoying a game by hitting a ball around there is so much ado about lbw,no ball ,googly etc,etc even more tortuous than the civil procedure code.The umpires and refrees even quote precedents [duckworth rules etc] like it is done in a court of law whilst settling disputes!

What baffles me is that little boys barely out of their cradles know all these complicated rules[much better than their multiplication tables] and enforce them furiously whilst playing this game!
Cricket is like the bureaucracy left to us as the legacy of 300 years of rule of British in India.Full of procedures,and rules, that makes it slow ,lumbering and time consuming , merely to hit a ball with a bat!

Foot ball is not only simple to play and follow but also less time consuming and inexpensive.You kick a ball from one end to another. And it is all over in few hours.

Yet millions of of Indian boys [half of them uneducated and poor] play this complicated and costly game[ bats,ball,stumps, gloves ,guards etc,etc,are a must] with great gusto at every nook and corner of our country relishing every moment of the game with its maze of rules more complicated than a game of chess !

It is virtually defunct in the land of its origin but has taken deep roots in her colonies and the toast of its millions and has spread its tentacles through out south Asia.That cricket has a firm grip on the imagination on the populace[male] of S.Asia is testified by the fact that one cricketer[across the border] even suggested that the festering dispute of Kashmir be settled by playing a game of cricket! The winner take's it !This is an uncanny parrelell to the days of yore when a game of dice was played to decide the overlordship of Bharat by ancient dynasties the Pandavas and Kauravas !

What was truly amazing was that our Kargil hero's ,the young soldiers who deftly dodged enemy bullets and threw bombs and grenades at the enemy and fought tooth and nail so as not to cede an inch of Indian territory to the Pakistani's in the frozen heights of Kargil shedding their blood and life in the process had in the few moments of recess ,enquired eagerly of the news correspondents who were covering the war about the progress of one day cricket that was being played in some other continent in a safe and secure environment by their compatriots against the players of the adversary they were actually facing head on ! And the news of victory of Indian cricketers over their Pakistani counterparts was greeted with loud cheers!

Thus the 'Soma Russ' called cricket has intoxicated crores of Indians and S.Asians so much so that they all sway in unison like a snake before a charmer!

Sanskritaization.

One day I woke up to the sound of Vedas being chanted loud and clear! I pinched myself to see if I was truly awake and if so where was I?In Tirupati or in T.Nagar?I was in T.Nagar at the heart of the central constituency ,the bastion of Periyar parivar[ family,] where the local 'dada's' make sure that the D.M.K. candidates contesting Legislative or Parliamentary elections return to their seat of power without fail.

When I peeped out of my window that overlooks a play ground I saw scores of Brahmin priests sitting around 5 yaga salas ,pouring ghee into the holy fire and chanting all the 4 vedas -Rig,Yajur,Atharva and Soma veda ,occasionally pausing to explain the meanings of the 'mantras' in Tamil!

Lo' behold my eyes met with a fantastic sight!The local 'dada' and his henchmen who conduct 'Katta panchayat' at the road side corner every day dilligently,arrange for record dances in the annual Adi thiruvizha of the small 'Amman 'shrine constructed on the blatantly encroached land of our neighbouring flat ,and rollicking merrily on the road side with regular sun downers ,were all freshly bathed and neatly dressed ,had smeared themselves with sacred ash and took part in all the rituals spanning over a week,along with their wives in the consecration ceremony of their road side temple!.

Suddenly I was transported from the land of Periyar to the sacred shores of river Ganges flowing by the ancient and holy city of Kashi.

In all my life spanning several decades I have never witnessed 'Khumbhabhishekam' performed at such close quarters although I have spent a lot of time living in the 'agraharams of Tirupati and Chittoor and have visited several other holy cities.

What a treat ! Right in the heart of a slum!

Graft.

I inwardly cringe whenever I read a news item or see on T.V that a petty clerk or some low ranking official has been caught for taking bribes ranging from Rs 2000 to 5000 .The drive against corruption in India is invariably against the lowliest for accepting measly sums ,whilst those taking hefty bribes running into crores like Bofors,Fodder scam and the currently on going spectrum scams are let off after initial hue and cry and such people slither back into power within a matter of months whilst that lowly official would have had his entire life ruined by being dismissed from a bread winning job!
Every one agrees that the corrupt must be booked. But in actual practise the gravity of the offence is determined by the amount of money given and accepted! If the sum is in thousands and if one is caught in order to fill the the register of the anti corruption bureau [before their internal inspection] one is done for.

But if the stakes are high i.e. in crores ,one need never worry! That person is on the right track.All the obstacles will easily fall on the way side . His future is by all means getting brighter and richer with more power and wealth on the anvil!

Dilliku raja annalum.

Children grow up but mother's don't. Her son maybe a top software engineer,or an I.A.S. or an I.P.S. officer or an M.B.A, but to her he is always the baby she rocked in her hands, the child she carried around and the boy she spanked.To the out side world it is obvious that the person is a responsible,.mature and a strong man but to his mother he is still a immature kid prone to making mistakes there by needing needing her protection and care. Do father's have this block. I doubt it . I think this is a unique trait found only in mothers.

Booker prize.

WhenI heard that Arundhathi Roy [anIndian woman] had won the supposedly highly coveted Booker prize I invaded the neighbourhood Lending library relentlessly like Mahmud of Ghazni to get my hand on that precious copy which was being continuosly borrowed by one member or the other.Finally when I won my trophy and read it I felt that my efforts were in vain! Her language is good but the plot ,the atrocities committed by the people belonging to the higher caste on those belonging to the lower caste which I read daily on the news papers made me weary.

I did'nt learn my lesson and my colonial mindset again went into raptures when subsequently another Indian authoress I think it was a writer named Kiran Mehta won a Bookerand after her Aravind Adiga.It was just like those days when suddenly the world discovered that India was filled with beauties and there was a long line of beauty queens [barring a few no self respecting Indian will consider them as beauties]selected [or nominated] one after the other in the world beautycontests.

Returning to the topic 'Booker prize' both the books awarded with that prize have nothing to boast of except that like their predecessor ,they have taken a mighty swipe at Indian society and have exposed our meanest habits.
To give credit where it is due -Arundathi has given good descriptions of events and the landscape in pleasing language ,whilst Adiga 's white tiger is -'ugh'[the expression I am forced to use] and was glad that I bought only a pirated copy from a pavement seller and thus had the satisfaction of not spending too much money on reading harsh and bare facts which we are all well aware of .

Whereas Amitav Ghosh who keeps losing the Booker race [ how could he win ,he takes a dig at the British often] writes interesting stories that are well woven facts and fiction in enjoyable language.

It seems that any Indian writing in English is assured of a Booker if that writer exposes to the world the dirty and seedy side of Indian society.

I too write about the flaws in our society and customs in my blogs but that is all within the family and I would'nt relish getting a prize for exposing the skeleton in the cupboard , that to from our former colonial masters !It would make me hang my head in shame.

Once upon a time I used to greatly look forward to reading books that won the Booker prize thinking that the English would honour people with prizes who write like Shakespeare or Keats stating sublime truths like 'To be or not to be' or 'A thing of beauty is a joy for ever' or for using aesthetic language, but I have been sorely disappointed and have decided never to touch a book especially those written by Indian authors that has won a Booker even with a barge pole!

Prabhakaran.

The master mind behind the gruesome extermination of the former Indian prime minister, a young and handsome Rajiv Ghandhi, and the callous executioner of scores of others who happened to get into his way and earned his ire .

Yet I felt a tiny twinge of regret on hearing about the news of his death.For all his ruthless ways there was romance in his life!He motivated 1000's of Tamil's to defy a government that trampled on their rights and dignity and even ran a efficient parallel government for decades which gave a modicum of self respect to the Tamil minority whose spirit had been severely crushed by their obstinate rulers.

Six packs.

The current obsession of Bollywood and Kollywood actors is '6 packs'. They starve and sweat it out in exotic gym's and spend lakhs of rupees on special trainers and diet and then bare their chest and abdomen to millions of movie crazy poor Indian youth who also posses 6 pack body ,not by spending money but by earning it ,by doing hard physical labour day in and day out to fill their starving bellies! Both are earning a living .The former spending lakhs of rupees to earn crores of rupees whilst the latter spends his youthful energy and strength to earn a few thoudand rupees to keep himself and his family going !

Software slave.

Vidat has described himself as a software slave in his profile at the blog site he had created for himself whilst working in Wipro as a software engineer. He has concisely stated a whale of truth !It is a apt description of software engineers in India.
It wrings my heart to see scores of computer engineers in early 20's who are made to work day and night even at weekends on a domain -coding-which I am sure is a creative and like all fields of creativity requires immense mental energies that needs to be replenished by adequate rest and sleep.
But conversely the great I.T giants seem to be unaware of this or donot care and make young and talented people work for long hours from 8 in the morning to 2 A.M at night for a meagre sum in comparison to what they profit from the hard labour of these 'slaves'.
Poor kids are torn between the devil and the deep sea.Because of their technical qualifications they can't do some other job[they think] like teaching,banking,insurance or the I.A.S.and they can't leave their current jobs as there aeren't as much jobs lying vacant as to accommodate all those millions of educated youth.waiting hungrily on the wings. So they continue to plod hoping to reach a higher position with attractive salary but in the process invariably burn out.
I wholeheartedly endorse the socialists view that unions should be allowed to be formed in I.T enterprises.Then the least that will be ensured would be regulating working hours to 9 to 5 with week ends strictly off ,removal of insecurity in job ,[no hire and fire],receive commensurate salary for work done and assurance of permanency in job with regular promotions and the provision for pensions.
The fear that such measures will render I.T and corporate offices as inefficient as our government offices is unfounded. Banks have unions but that does'nt make the clerks ,officers or managers lax and corrupt. Every bank I have visited serve their customers promptly and sincerely.
It is time that our young people lured by money [pittance by western standards but princely by Indian] shake themselves of these invisible chains binding them to greedy corporate houses that have scant regard for basic human rights like rest and sleep and overburden young shoulders with too much work and responsibilities.
These I.T.giants and corporate houses are also insidiously breaking up family life ,which we Indians are reknowned .Due to long and unpredictable hours of the young I.Tproffessionels parents scarcely meet their children although living in the same house!Similarly working married couples meet only on festivals and push the custody of their house and children to total strangers [ayahs] and become strangers to them selves.The companionship and intimacy and energy required to make marriage a pleasant affair is gobbled up by the long hours spent at their offices or at some distant foreign country [in I.T.parlance 'on site' ]
How I long for those days of my youth when working people ,how so ever high ranking he may be [my dad was the chief of administration of c.s.i.r] left their homes at 9 and were back home by 6 to relax in the hall with snacks and share the days events and gossip.
Life was simple, predictable and less stress free then.The youth of this generation are very hard working .Though richer in money are poorer in spirit as they don't even have the time and energy to spend their hard earned money.

Some memories of Vidat and Govind.

Cousin's [paternal] with a year or so gap .Grew up together in a joint family marked by lot of playing and lot's of fights.Fights erupted regarding the possession of a particular , insignificant toy when the entire house was strewn with toys of all sizes and shapes!
They were enrolled together in L.K.G. in a nearby school. They were shifted of to different sections within a month as the teacher complained that Vidat and Govind were too engrossed in each other's company talking, playing, fighting excluding every one else.
When the joint family broke down it was the desire of all 4 cousins Vidat ,Govind, Vijay and Vineet to meet and spend a few days together during summer and winter holliday's in each others house. Once in their pre teens Govind and Vijay landed at our house at Porur .Vidat had a large circle of friends in that colony who all played cricket[bet] matches in the vast open fields and grounds that were within 1 km radius from our dwelling.Govind a city lad didnt have such luxuries and his playing was confined to cramped parks and terraces, probably that is why he got highly excited when Vidat informed him of a match to be played the next morning.
To Vidat's as well as my amazement Govind dragged his fat cousin Vijay to the terrace of our house and kept bowling and batting in turns. Poor Vijay was totally exhausted.The next day Govind was up at the crack of dawn, woke up his fat cousin and asked him to perform exercises along with him.Vidat was surprised and amused at all these drills.
After breakfast all 4 cousins went of to play the match. That evening Vidat came home bursting with the news of how well he scored whilst poor Govind and Vijay could barely manage a run each .The practise sessions and physical exercises in anticipation of the great match had exhausted them thoroughly.The two tired cricketers flopped on the sofa and promptly went of to sleep whilst Vidat and Vineet after refreshing themselves with juice and food ran out to play yet another game with their colony friends!

Vidat and Shashank.

Vidat had met Shashank's mother before he met Shashank,as she was the doctor having a clinic near Vidat's primary school at Porur,to whom Vidat was taken by his teachers when he suffered a gnash on his forehead when Vidat collided headlong against a girl in the narrow corridor of his school at Porur.The tear was expertly stitched .
Vidat and Shashank' s friendship or rather enimity [that was how it started] began when Vidat joined PSBB school at class 5 and boarded the same bus ,went to the same class and section for several years.
In those early days of their acquaintance Shashank ,who lived a Km or so away visited us enroute to visiting his relatives who lived in our colony.Vidat refused to talk to him calling him evil.Shashank pursued but Vidat rebuffed him and even joined his colony pals in throwing pebbles at him and chasing him away!
A love -hate relationship at the beginning that slowly blossomed into a firm friendship over the years
Shashank and Vidat were like chalk and cheese.Vidat loved the great out doors,was always on playgrounds or open spaces playing an assortment of games like cricket,Badminton or simply cycling or swimming.He was at home only to eat or snatch a nap or flop on on the bed at night to sleep. The time Vidat spent watching T.V. was minimal ,limited to viewing cricket,tennis and hockey matches or formula car racing or Gounda mani Senthil comedy ,when he could successfully snatch the remote away from his persistently T.V. watching younger brother whilst his friend loved watching T.V, like movies, serials etc and did so along with Vineet which prompted Vidat to comment''you need not come all the way from your house to mine only to watch t.v. you can do that at yours''.
Whilst Shashank visited I.I.T.culturals-sarang,rock shows and English Plays excitedly Vidat would be lustily cheering Indian batsmen at Chepauk or LeanderPaes in Nungambakkam stadiums or Dhanraj Pillai and hockey players at the astro turf play ground.
Vidat hated travelling and the maximum he deigned to was to school ,college or office as he had to and was happy hitting the ball in the open spaces around his house.Yes ofcourse he didnt mind travelling to beach or to any available open stretch of ground how so far it may be to play a cricket match whilst Shashank liked to traverse the length and breadth of Chennai,India and the world tirelessly.
Vidat was a early bird, early to bed and early to rise a' lark' whilst his pal was an' owl' staying awake most part of the night It seems that Vidat remarked once that his friend's ways were similar to his younger brother's and the two of them would hit it off together well !
Vidat had a lot of friends so what made Shashank so special? Most probable reason could be that Shashank spent nearly all his free time at our house playing, fighting, eating, watching T.V ,singing , and sleeping, Whenever Shashank turned up Vidat's father used to remark ''here comes your middle son''. They went to the same school ,attended the same college,lived nearby and when we shifted to the city his office was so near that he was for ever passing in and out of our flat.
Vidat had a younger brother to tease,play and talk to 24 hours a day .Yet Shashank was Vidat's close friend.I suppose it is only a friend who can fill in certain gaps which other relatio nships cannot.
The duo had a lot of adventures and misadventures together.Here is one for a sample.One day whilst Vidat was working at Wipro', both came home smirking at noon and Vidat hurriedly packed a bag and told me that he and his friend were off to Bangalore on the huge monstrous motor bike owned by his friend and would reach the place in2 hours time. And both were off in a jiffy!That night got a frantic call from Shashank's father to equally frantic father of Vidat enquiring about the whereabouts of the duo who promising to return after a long ride in a couple of hours hadnt returned even after several hours .When I let the cat out of the bag all hell broke loose .Both father's fretted and fumed and were besides themselves with worry for the safety of their son's on the accident prone highway whilst the duo were merrily speeding on the highway to attend a party hosted at IIM campus at Bangalore.[It is another story that they abandoned their motorbike at a friend's ,came home next day by bus with a sore back]
In the week preceeding his final departure Vidat never got to meet Shashank though both were in the same city but Vidat met his mother. A full circle.

Indelible memories.

When Vidat was studying in 5th class and was 9 years of age , went out to play in nearby vacant plots one day. .After few hours he came back home laughing and said ''Ma whilst playing an older boy got angry at me and came near me and said I am going to slap you ,and I replied' I am waiting for it' and that boy was so shocked at my reply he didnt know what to do or say and I continued playing whilst that boy watched me helplessly!''

One year or so later , one day Vineet let out a piercing shriek and wailed out loudly'' Amma stop Vidat ,stop him '.'I ran out of the kitchen where I was preparing meals and saw Vidat carrying a water filled plastic bag with two fish ,accompanied by his wild pal Saravana running towards our well at the backyard .Vineet tugged at my saree and yelled ''Stop him, stop Vidat'' as he was scared that the fish would dirty the well our only source of water.At this Vidat shouted back and said ''Ma Adayar thatha [my father] said if a well has fish in, it will be clean as the fish will eat moss, dirt etc and give us clean water,I will throw them in our well '',and he did triumphantly with his friend cheering him. Vineet retreated to a corner crying whilst Vidat and his pal clambered over the grill covering the well spread themselves on it peering into the dark well hoping to catch a glimpse of their precious fish and on sighting them swimming ,laughed and let out loud cries of victory!
Two days later I was confronted by a howling Vidat who dragged me to the well and pointed at the fish that were dead and were floating on the surface ,whilst Vineet looked relieved.The previous day I had unwittingly thrown bleaching powder into the well,my weekly routine as the well was our only source of water in the suburban Porur house,forgetting the existence of the fish.
A ''green effort''to purify our well water was inaugurated with a shriek and concluded with a howl!

These are few of Vidat's favourites

Favourite Food: As a child - Pongal,aloo tikki,masaladosa and Diary milk chocolate.
As a teenager -rice ,dal,fried potatoes and appalam.
As a youth -Pizza
sweet dishes:Badhusha,Japanese cake,pista cake and jambiscuits from Mckernet,milkmaid,chocalatejam, littlehearts ,and bourbon biscuits .
savouries:Thattai [from grandsweets shop] idli's [made by maternal grand mom],potato and banana chips .

Favourite past times:As a child [2 to 5 years]Sprinkling the floor liberally with Johnson baby powder and skating on it joyfully. Vidat was greatly amused by crawling creatures and had absolutely no fear of them. He used catch cockroaches,geckos and kittens and pet them and dangle them merrily and release them after a while .[I was glad that there were no snakes around]
Pinching everyone's ear lobes especially Vineet's all the while singing a song created by him ''kadha killi ....''.
Giving Vineet a different name each day-Vingeet, dhadia, sony ........I named my 2 nd son [Vineet] as Visisht on the 10th day after birth[ naming ceremony] but Vidat kept calling his younger brother with a new name each day [it may exceed 100]
Chewing fresh bus tickets [his entire classmates at school copied Vidat and started to chew paper]
As a teenager and as a youth:Playing and playing especially cricket,Badminton,chess, carroms and swimming.Another favourite past time -sleeping.

Favourite collections: As a child -Pens,various types .
As a employed youth-Cooling glasses of different shades and brands.

Favourite colour : As a teenager -orange.

Favourite fabric: Cotton.

Favourite clothes: As a teenager and youth -Bermudas and T shirts.

Favourite songs: As a child--[from 2 years onwards] Then pandi seemaile ther odum veedhiile yaar adicharo yar adicharo.
As a teenager --Ikku ladiki ko dekha tho aisa lagah ,yaar yaar sivam
ne dhan sivam, vandenda pallukaran adadaa a mattai
patri pada poren and sooravallipola vandan perandi

Favourite actors; Tamil ---KamalHassan and Goundamani. Hindi----Amitabh bachhan and Katrina kaif.

Favourite films : Troy,Kurdhipunal,Badsha and Munnabhai mbbs .

Favourite T.V.shows : As a teenager ---Sports especially cricket .'Kaun benega crorepati hosted by Amitabh Bachhan.
As a youth ---Sports channel watching cricket,tennis ,hockey and car races .Watching travel's in Discovery channel.

Favourite sports men; Sachin,Mark Waugh,V.V.S Lakshman, LeanderPaes, Fedrer and Schumaker .

Favourite spots and places: Perching on the armrest of the sofa with his arms around his mother's or father's shoulders whoever happened to be seated on the sofa.
Lying down on the floor with legs on the diwan or sofa whilst watching T.V [copied by Vineet, Govind and Shashank.]
As a college student on top of the water tank on the 4th floor of our flat at T.nagar whilst studying for his engineering exams.
As a youth -Broken bridge and beach .
Favourite Relatives; grand parent: Adayar thatha [maternal grandfather]
Mama; Harind [maternal]
Cousin: Govind [paternal]

Favourite kids ; Sakshi [daughter ofpaternal cousin] and shrishti[ daughter of maternal cousin ]
Favourite friend: As a child --Rajesh [Adayar]
As a teenager and youth ----Shashank.

Favourite flame: Rabia

Favourite school teacher: Shanthi chandrashekar.

Favourite lecturer: Susan.

Favourite boss : Khani

Favourite doctor; Lakshmi Vijaykumar .

Favourite diety ; Srinivasa perumal at Thirumalai.

Favourite pilgrimage:Climbing the 7 hills of Thirumalai on foot.

Favourite act of kindness; Tipping our flat watch man[an old man] liberally whilst employed.

Favourite goal : As a child and teenager ---To become the king of the world .

Favourite one liners: As a child --innikki kekadasi [ekadasi] when Vidat didnt like the food or wanted to skip a meal.
As a boy---Aruvadhu sinam [to me his mother when I scolded him]
As a teenager and youth----Netri khan thirandalum kuttram kuttrame
[to his dad during arguments]
Ennoku or charitram irukku [to Vineet alluding to his happy childhood day's at Ranchi]
''' " ------------Arasialil idhelam saghajam appa [Goudaman's ]

Favourite endearments;Ammana, Appu,Sony, shashi baba,and gondees

All time favourite - Vineet [Dont know whether he liked his younger brother more than me or equal to me]
Sujata.




.
,

Tips to mother's writing on their son's blog i.e-to myself.

1.Curb this yen to give tips.

2.Stop advising and preaching, especially to youngsters as they are sure to misunderstand or do exactly the opposite!

3.Stop poking one's nose in other's business and affairs [social and personal relationships] because if some youth actually follows one's advise and if things don't work out properly one is sure to be burdened with guilt.[i.e one will be in soup]

4.One must most determinedly give tips only on matters one is actually qualified to do so ,like 'how to cook a simple south Indian meal in 20 minutes' and not on subjects like sociology,psychology or economy for which one neither has insight or nor any academic or professional training.

5.One must constantly remind oneself 'that every body gets to know everything by themselves and not to be bound by tips. That includes these tips as well!

Tips to well educated and wellemployed men on choosing a life partner

Marry a girl who is pretty or at least pleasant to look at.Only then you will be motivated enough to work and care for your family and thus carry your name forward to the next generation.

Marry a girl who is less qualified than you,but not so less qualified that she opens her eyes wide in amazement when you tell her that the world is round.

Marry a girl who is neither too thin or too fat. If she is skinny you 'll have to do all the housework and keep paying doctor's fees. If she is too fat she'll be forever cooking and eating.So marry some one slim.

Marry a girl who is several years younger than you .Then you wont have to face embarrasing questions like--'your elder sister is here but where is your wife ' when you attend functions together.

If it is decided that the wife will work allow her to work as a teacher or as a clerk in a bank or govt with no ambitions of climbing up .Generally these jobs are less taxing on time and energy and she will be there for you when you come home late and tired from office. If you choose a soft ware engineer or a Mba or an I.a.s as your life partner you may meet,[ with luck] once a week though living in the same house.

Marry from your own class .If you marry from a very low class your house will be a resting place for hordes of relatives. If you choose a bride from a very high class a car will be permanently stationed at your gate to whisk you off at a moments notice to your in.laws house to attend on them .

So marry a slim, pleasant looking woman much younger and less qualified than you and one who hails from the class and culture to which you belong.

All the best.

Warnings to well employed men on choosing a bride

It is a general rule that man marries for beauty and women for security.
If you are the sort whose tongue is long that yearns for good food at all times ,marry a pretty and plump girl.Your table will be laden with tasty food at all times but be prepared to see your wife metamorphise into a rolly polly aunt within a few years.
If you are the sort who wants to take it easy .That is to be in a low pressure job but hanker after good things in life [vacations,owning a huge villa,partying ,etc] go ahead and marry a beauty with brains[highly qualified and drawing a huge salary] Two in one . Life will be one long picnic .But be prepared to lock your male ego in a bullet proof box and dump it into the sea.
If your hankering after zero size figure , be prepared to see your wife jump out of bed at an unearthly hour of 4 in the morning to work out in the Gym and your daily meal will be an assortments of salads, and .oil,sugar and salt free dishes.Your outings will be ,clambering up rocks,trudging through forests and swimming in hidden pools.
If you marry a girl because she is so sweet and serious -always with a book in her hand,be prepared to spend your evenings and holidays not in social outings but in front of the t.v watching snakes slithering around either in discovery channel or the N.Geographic and be embroiled in never ending discussions and lectures with your wife on un heard of topics !
If you are stunned by a girl's looks [makeup ,hairdo and chic outfits]and marry her she'll stun you when you check your bank balance.Most of it would be lining the pockets of boutique,beauty saloon and jewellery shop owners.
If you think you are doubly blessed for having hooked a bride who is pretty but dumb and has a wealthy father ,poor you ,your time is not yours any more.You will be forever at your father.in.law's beck and call and will be frequenting his house more than yours!
If you are the exceptional sort of youth having high ideals of marrying the first girl you see in a arranged marriage or marry some girl out of dutiful notions be be prepared to greet everyday as luck may have it a squint eyed,buck teethed,pot bellied ugly duckling and squirm in aversion once the youthful ideals wear out '
I can only warn .The choice is yours .All the best .

Lost and found.

Dear viewers
I discovered the blog spot created by Vidat for me few day's before his second anniversary.Vidat seems to have had more faith in my literary skills and intellectual acumen than
Idid. IT is a pity I did'nt botherto write a single word in my blog when he was around .Now it seems more or less like his last wish and I hope to fulfill his wishes by writing articles ,views and reproduce some pages from my diary in my blog .I'll continue to write in Vid's blog on and off.
sujata

L GBT

The Delhi Highcourt gave a judgement in which it declared that the section of IPC which penalised consenting same gender adults having intimate relatoinships ,as against the spirit of the Indian constitution.
From that very evening nearly all t.v news channels started bombarding the viewers with for and against arguments.The same set of lgbt spokepersons and muslim and christian clerics were pitted against each other and were seen in all channels at all times vociferously stating their views.
This gay argument flew back and forth a whole week,the spokepersons for gay community were very emphatic that their bias -affectoin is due to genetic factors whilst the clerics stuck to their view that it was due to environmental factors and ex horted them to join the main stream.Neither gave way and it finally culminated by a fitting observation by the christian father,'I don't know whether our [church's] objections have reached the people or not but definetly all these frank discussions on a hitherto ,a secret and out of bounds topic, in the full glare of the media has succeeded in putting in every viewers mind doubts regarding his or her gender preferences'.
He seems to have read minds.I suppose it is a person who is seeped in spirituality and religion who has the courage to reveal and lay bare our innermost doubts and fears.
Well said father !

what is in a name?

I was filling an Railway recruitment board/s application for a totally blind person .One column required the applicant to make a declaration in his own hand and then sign it .It was 6 in the evening and I was reading and writing for Nagraj since 3 o clock .Early in the morning I had gone for a long walk. At home I had done the usual chores with the added burden of washing clothes. The temperature had risen to a searing 37 c and my walking down to the association a good 2 kms away from my house had tired me, so I said' should I fill this too' , wearily.At this Nag whose hearing and understanding is acute said don/t worry m'am just write blind and leave it .And they will understand. Hearing this Narsimhan another blind youth said should'nt it be visually handicapped or visually impaired?To this Nag retorted 'do these fancy words matter,THE fact is we are blind we can't see so why not write blind straight away ,a rose is a rose by whatever name one calls it' and to my utter surprise they all laughed loudly as if enjoying a huge joke !
Three blind men .They have been in darkness since childhood. They don't know what they or I look like .They don't know how everything else in this world looks like,. earth,trees,sky,water,colours and innumerable visual treats we take for granted .They are aware that they have been meted with a raw deal by fate or otherwise yet they are able to laugh at their disability and to take it in their stride.Hats off !

Tips to young well educated women whilst choosing a life partner.

1.Remember the proverb marry a person who loves you whether you love him or not !Follow this ancient wisdom religiously as it is sure to give you rich dividends .You will be the undisputed queen of that man's heart and household .
2.Don't marry a man because he is jolly ,full of smiles , is fore ever laughing and is a happy person to be with .Serious young women are attracted to such men ,like a moth is to fire .If you fall prey to this chaps charms ,be warned that he'll keep on laughing come what may ,even at you and your troubles and miseries.Marry some one more serious than you .He'll surly understand your problems or at least not laugh at what ever that is troubling you !
3.Never marry a man for his looks. He'll give every other girl looks and keep you on tenterhooks .So marry some one presentable none too handsome or better looking than you .
4.Don't marry beneath you just because you have fallen madly in love .After few years or say even few months the lack of amenities all of which you had taken for granted at your fathers house ,will get on your nerves.Vice versa don't marry someone too above you .You'll be in for a cultural shock and be caught in a web of family politics revolving around money.Better to marry .a man from the class to which you belong.
5.Don't marry a guy who is less qualified than you .You won't get a complex -he will. If that isn't enough he won't be ambitious enough to give you and your children the most important reason for getting married -a good comfortable life or a secure future.,which with your ambitious character a natural corrolary for pursuing higher studies will not gell !
Marry a man who is presentable ,serious,ambitious,more qualified than you and most important is in a good job .
All the best .

Acts of kindness

Nothing touches me more than an act of kindness .The act of that middle aged man to distribute food packets to vagabonds,destitute as well as dirty people wandering around or sleeping on the pavements, willingly sacrificing his morning walks on and off, in the sheltered clean park trodden by people of his age and class who alight from their clinically clean car only to jump back into their islands of comfort once their exercising and socialising is over.
As also the kindness and patience of that well to do woman for finding the time and the willingness to part with money to dole out delicious pongal vadai to all those hungry, ill fed poor people forming a queue as long as the queue of the well endowed[with health, wealth etc] devotees who worship the deity in fond hope of being bestowed with more wealth,and ease their conscience [that pricks them for not doing any thing substantial for the deprived lot ],by tossing a few coins at the beggars and hurrying off to make and chase money .

Dissertations on death

Is death a total black out, a whirlpool of voidness sucking one to the vast darkness of endless space? Is it a passport to heaven or to hell?Or is it a long sleep from which one never wakes up?
Death is mysterious that is why it is scary since nobody has come back after dying to tell us what it is like.Death hangs as a sword on every living creature born on this earth.Every creature fears death ,.Even an insignificant ant when it falls into water will try to swim with its tiny legs to save its life.We poor human beings unfortunately endowed with a thinking and reasoning mind fear it all the more as how much ever we wrestle with our mind no answere regarding death and there after can be found .The terrible truth is that death is something beyond our knowledge and control and this fosters fear .
TO this general there rule there is an exception To some life is more fearfull than death.
It is a fact of life that we are all under the illussion that although we know that thousands have lived and died before us and will live and die after us ,and that the present circle of relatives ,friends or even a stranger on the street or park or on the beach will not be here physically in 50 to 100 years thence ,we continue to think that we are immortal ,death will pass us by ! Althoughpeople are passing away around us ,we are sure we will definetly live on at least to a very ripe old age which is simply aeons away.Death strikes lesser mortals not me !
Is it a final goodbye when air chooses not to pass through one any more and has taken the abstract essence of a person along with it to mingle in air and other primeval elements from which it was first fashioned ? '
Three years back my 8o year old mother said that 'death 'was nothing but an emotion .I did'nt subscribe to her view then but now Iam not so sure and have come around to the view that death is an experience like getting scalded by fire the firs t time as a child or the first plunge headlong into water .It is a experience and experiences are borne out of emotions evoked by the senses.
The terrible truth is that every experience one goes through in life i.e succes and failure ,ecstacy and anguish undergone and the deadly dilemma's that evoke raging conflicts and crystal clear certitudes which are the harbinger s of peace ,the thrill of clasping one's first newborn and theprimeval waves of sorrow engulfing one on seeing that infant now a man being carried down the steps by four other men,the confidence gained at the knowledge of being frimly anchored to ones belief's that aid one in withering various battles of life and the sudden loss of one's moorings due to a un imaginable twist in fate battered around mercilessly in a sea of sorrow and the slow healing of the wounds by the presense and kindness of the second son and time ,have a recall value where as the experience called death which I and every one else is going to experience one day can never be revived or recalled to my or any one'elses memory ...
The conclusion I have arrived at is that death is an experience, the memory of which has been obliterated before, now and here after . An experience without a recall value, the memory of which is lost eternally in this vast universe .

continuation

Finally the loss of loved ones to death .Here also there are degrees of grief .If it is a ancestor say father or mother so old


that it would'nt be cruel to describe them as having one foot in the grave,the grief is brief.Yes the physical presence is missed ,more so their timely wise suggestions and advise borne out of experience .Here also what is missed is their guidance.Nobody thinks such a person generally in 80's could have lived few more years enjoying life for itself.
Then comes the harshest grief of all-losing one's child.Yudhishtra when asked by a yaksha testing his credentials to the tittle of Dharma putra as to what was the worst sorrow of all , replied 'putrasoka' i.e losing one's children to death.This reply satisfied the yaksha.
Yes, to lose a young son at the threshold of a huge vista of life ,who has not tasted the pleasures of married life being denied the pleasure of hearing the sweet babble of his children or the thrill of feeling like a monarch whilst over coming minor day to day battles at work place ,in quest of money and fame and lending a strong shoulder to his aged parents when they lose their strengh making them feel wanted and secure, is a grief unimaginable by parents. The very thought is horrific and if one has to actually endure this in life ,it is the pinnacle of all grief.
Here too, is there an element of selfishness ? The sheer denial of the physical presense of the offspring is the most unbearable part of the grief.Is he missed because his presence which equated to unasked for but taken as granted, support both physically and morally is denied?Is it the feeling of loneliness created suddenly by this vaccum in one's life that enhances one's sorrow?

It is easy to intellectualise but the emotions one is assailled of at the thought of the irreversible finalityof the loss and the memory of the lost son which is so real like as if he is sitting in his favourite chair and is smiling at me and laughing with me and that I just have to stretch a bit to touch but when I do he is not there ,so near yet so far ,is decidedly difficult to surmount.

Each to one's own grief.

continuation

Then there is the grief of the child less couple .Their yearnings and plea's falling on deaf ears of the creator.Social pressures add to their sorrow and they seek solace in each other's company imagining the partner as child to be nourished and protected a substitute when confronted with the truth that for them are not the pleasures of bearing and rearing their own little one's.Here too self prevails,the man feels cheated for not having his name carried into distant future,the woman feels handicapped for being denied a natural and commonplace event in her biological cycle .
A child less woman once told me bitterly and sadly that she had been denied the pleasure of having a child whilst every one around seems to be liberally endowed and take it for granted their bevy of offsprings .If only she knew how I blessed with what she jealously regarded as the ultimate joy often envied her for being spared of the horribly empty feeling in my stomach that greeted me every morning for severalmonths with the realisationt that I was to endure yet another day with seesawing emotions that accompanied the memories rushing at me ,the thrill I felt at the first step of my first son,his precise parroting of our words,his uninhibited happiness at the first glimpse of pouring rain and to feel his physical and mental pains as my own,the huge emotional investment I had made for 24 years smashed to smithereens in a few seconds leaving me to pick up the broken pieces of life .
That childless woman was denied the pleasure but was definetly spared the pain.

contiuation

To some ,especially young men whose love for some damsel has been spurned fall into deep depression.Being a woman I am unable to comprehend this grief probably just as a man cannot comprehend the depth or the intensity of the grief of a mother losing her child. The world is full of girls .If not this there is always another .More over the girl one pines for would become matronly within a matter of 10 years.The youthful bloom lost fore ever in the birth of a child and each passing year will cruelly deposit layers of fat .The once tragic lover is sure to recoil at the very sight of his lover for whom he was once prepared to lay down even his life!
Yes at that moment of youth the first flush of love and it s loss may well be unbearable.I am not trivialising such emotions.It is very real and natural at that juncture,but 'youth the exciting and most wonderful period in nearly all human beings life with its accompanying idealism and volatile emotions' slowly and surely fades away and merges into the complancey of middle age sooner or later.It is but a matter of time.
to be contd

Guise's of grief

To some loss of money is a insurmountable grief.To others loss of name is an unspeakable grief.To some failure in love is a unquenched grief .To several losing a close family member to the cruelty and finality of death is a inconsolable grief.
IN each of the above mentioned grief commonly plaguing mankind is the element of selfishness.One loses money and then thinks what will to happen me ? I'll be on the streets!Well there are several living on the streets already and that to happily .Just a couple of yards away from my house a young couple have converted part of the pavement into a dwelling place .They cook,eat and let their tiny tots play on the road happily.They are a public entertainment yet they are living cheerfully!I have come across people who mourn loss of wealth and consider it to be the greatest grief - I fail to understand this degree ,because a turn in events and life can bring back all if not even more than the wealth so tearfully lost.But can life once lost be ever brought back? All the riches in the world cannot do so .
Then comes the matter relating to the loss of ones name and reputation. This is something both the rich and the poor abhor. What will people think of me ,how will Iface my friends and relatives is the question that reveberates in the person 's mind who is grieving the loss of name.Why? Because in their own circles they are moulding their life according to that group's notion of right and wrong,i.e instead of living for themselves as per their natural inclinations and tendencies ,submit to the demands of parents,friends,collegues etc and when one slips ,the imaginary and illusory world of name and fame comes crashing down ,its impact so terrible that some never get up. Just pause a bit and take a look at our political leaders..They project themselves as clean and full of integerity but figure on and off in one scam or the other and some have even cases pending against them!Do they care for loss of name?Hardly.Another shining example not to bother about loss of face unduly are our iconalistic cricketers ! They 'll hit a duck, miss catches nonchalantly and fail to win matches and give interviews without batting a eye lid quite cheerfully[ whilst their fans millions in number become gloomy ,and depressed] They [cricketers] are ready and raring to play the next match in high spirits!
to be contd...

Why?

My heart swelled with pride when Vidat aged about 22 years an adult to the world but a mere lad to me went to his office in a chaffeur driven white car ,even more when he refused to drop me on the way saying the conveyance was for official purpose.
The same heart broke into peices when 2 years later he was conveyed in a black van.The unthinkable has happened.My son ,my child who should have succeed me has preceeded me.He,my son [ putra ] should be the one performing my last rites but here I am performing his. Some Events which were within my grasp and several beyond my control or comprehension has pushed me into a life of deep sorrow.All my love,affection and knowledge couldnt save Vidat. Is it true ? Did it happen?Won' t he push open the front door at 7 in the evening ,kick his shoes off and say Ma do you know what happened today and relate to me the day's happenings ?
The same heart is still ticking.How and why ?Was it God's intention to shake me up from my comfortable cocoon of middle -class life that chiefly consisted of untiring rounds of shopping, attending social functions to show off my latest pure silk sarees and ornaments,watching films ,enjoying languid noonsiestas, genarally a lotus eaters life ,to look around and endeavour to wipe the tears of his imperfect creations and make attempts to serve those less privelleged, who were ofcourse always there ,whose conditions had evoked pity from the periphery that was far from, my comfort zone and make a hea dlong plunge into a life of service to the deprived lot ,though stressful is sort of spirutuallyuplifting ?

India shining

A funny sight outside my first floor bedroom window on a hot May morning.The pvt company..... sanitary workers started shovelling two days of un collected garbage that was and is being dumped every other second by the the multitude of slum dwellers who seem to average 10 per single room tenements right opposite to my apartment and generate tremendous amount of garbage [a pointer towards economic prosperity] which they unhesitatingly and as a matter of right dump on the taxpayers side of the road as we the middle class sincere tax payers are a dumb lot having no political clout whatso ever, because we never vote enmasse' ,in fact enjoy election days as hollidays relaxing at front of the t.v whilst they receive money,goodies etc and vote religio usly,Now to get back to my story ,the sanitary workers started cleaning the dump from which such a huge stink arose that I had to flee from my room to the next.After a few minutes the stench ceased and I returned to myr oom and looked out of the window to greeted byan unusual sight.The 4or 5 young cleaners were drinking tea near a waiting mini truck in which all the garbage was dumped chatting happily whilst a young lad was taking photos of his co workers with a cell phone camera!
Clearing the road of garbage is not such a memorable event so as to be recorded in a cell phone camera, as it is part and parcel of his job , so most probably he was in augurating his newly purchased mobile! A sure sign of India's growing prosperity!B arely a decade back possesing a mobile phone was a symbol of luxury and the perogative of the rich but now it is considered as a neccesity in a highly voluble society and is accquired easiley by a vast majority of Indians !Even my neighbour hood rag picker has one !