Homage

I had planned for this trip to Bangalore to be different from the usual trips that I make. For one thing I knew it would be different as I was travelling alone and hence there would be no compulsions both from Kumar and Sridevi to do the usual rounds. Also I had made sure that no one except the people in the two houses I proposed to spend time knew of the trip. Since I know a lot of people in Bangalore, the social pressures are too much and thus end up spending more time on the road enroute to visiting people. As most of you are aware the traffic in Bangalore is chaotic and not being up to date on the latest traffic regulations can make any journey a nightmare. The only planned engagement was the betrothal ceremony of my friend’s son – the reason for the trip. However the trip turned out to be one of those where one goes down a not so pleasant memory lane. It evoked a chapter lying superficially hidden in a corner of the grey matter.
I would like to go back to the year 1996, when my only sister in law was admitted to the Air Force Command Hospital in Bangalore. She was diagnosed with a lump in her breast and the biopsy had shown that it was malignant. Hence the only option was a mastectomy and thus the admission. Her husband was a retired Colonel and they lived in Hosur, Tamil Nadu. Since Bangalore was just an hour’s drive from Hosur, it seemed the most natural thing to admit her at the Command Hospital. I reached Bangalore a day after her surgery and got to spend the days with her. She being a very lively person with a very positive attitude, we would chat and while away the time. She had known of the malignancy and of the unexploded bomb that she was carrying. But somehow she never made a mention of it and she carried on with her sweet disposition. As for me, I put up a brave front but at the same time was appalled and upset at the conditions that prevailed in the Command Hospital, which was considered as the top medical facility in South India for the army personnel. Stray dogs would roam around the campus and the toilets were in shambles. The nursing staff were so discourteous and the doctors were just not reachable. My sister in law endured the treatment meted out to her with tenacity. I did not hear her complain even once. Well that was how she was. I have always appreciated her good heartedness, but this I thought was stretching it a bit too far. She came out of the hospital scathed but cheerful. Things continued to be fine for the next eight months after which she again fell ill. This time it was with severe head aches something she just could not take in her stride. I must credit her her sagacity because her threshold of pain was far higher than the normal Indian woman’s. Thus she was brought back to the Command hospital for further tests and treatment.
The diagnosis was not what one would want to hear and as for the prognosis we knew would be in the negative. She was asked to take the usual MRI scan to get the internal picture. The result of the scans was not at all good and all of us were stunned by what we heard. In 1997 when the CAT and MRI scans were normal investigative tools, it was shocking to know that the Command Hospital did not have the required machines. Each of these procedures had to be done at a scan centre outside the hospital premises. Thus after a couple of visits, she was asked to start on chemotherapy. She would get herself admitted for a day and get the medicine into her body. Her conditioned turned from bad to worse and finally she reached a stage when it was thought that she needed to have radiation as well. Radiation treatment was not available at Command Hospital and thus had to commute between Command Hospital and KIDWAI Memorial Institute of Oncology. I was really upset to see her being taken to the KIdwai centre in one of the huge Military trucks. It was the most insensitive happening. The family could not stand this demeaning act and thus from day 2 arrangements were made for a car to pick her up and bring her to the KIDWAI centre. This routine was short lived as her condition seemed to take such steep turns that every day brought her condition down by more than 10%. Thus she had to be shifted to KIDWAI Centre were luckily a room was available. In less than two weeks time she became a person who could not see or take any food orally and who had lost all movement. She had also lost her speech and thus there was nothing left of her. It was sad to see this fast downhill route that she was taking. There was only so much we could all do about it. After a two week struggle we lost her on June 12th 1997.
Death as we all know is inevitable. But to lose a loved one while still young is devastating. What to me coupled the tragedy was the insensitive medical treatment that she underwent. Had I then known of organizations that helped to cope with the dreaded cancer, I would have made sure that she received some kind of solace from them. This disease is one were the rate of mortality is high; however it could have been brought about in a dignified manner. It is twelve years since she has left us and the void created only seems to grow. What triggered this thought process was an unexpected visit to the Command Hospital during my just concluded trip. The reason for the visit was to look up on my friend’s brother who had met with a road accident and was thus admitted for medical investigations. He is a serving officer and thus belonged to the privileged group. His room was in a cottage like building and this made me think that the amenities too would match the ambience. I was in for a shock when I went in and saw that nothing much had changed. If this is what is provided for a serving officer, I dread to think as to what the conditions of the wards would be. The stray dogs still had a field day.
On looking back, I think the trip to the hospital and the revival of this chapter was definitely inevitable. The reason why I say this is because just before my departure to Bangalore, we had a small get together of my husband’s side of the family. It was not planned but it just happened that both his brother and nephew were with us and thus we reminisced on all the happenings. A lot was spoken about my sister in law who was a good human being, a wonderful wife, a loving and caring mother and a darling sister. I must have gone to Bangalore atleast 15 times during the intervening 12 years, but it had to be only this time when I got to go to the Command Hospital. Did it happen because she was more in my thoughts this time? I conclude by terming this revival as a humble homage to an endearing human being.

Elixir

I grew up drinking only milk or milk along with the regular additives like Horlicks, Bournvita or Ovaltine. My mother never thought it right to give her daughters anything else but the above. To her tea and coffee were just taboo. She had a preconceived notion that the world’s most loved beverages contained nothing good but on the other hand were totally bad for health. She may have had her reasons for this view. She lived up to this conviction and during her lifetime never ever sipped a cup of tea or coffee. This was not the case with her daughters; the three of us, once we left her nest started to consume tea and very little of coffee. The reason for this could be the fact that ours was a Malayali household and like in almost all Malayali households, it was tea more than coffee. Coffee powder was kept as a stand by just in case somebody asked for it. Thus I grew up without knowing anything about what I later came to know as the “ELIXIR” to a large percentage of the world’s population namely the coffee.
Coffee as most of us are aware was first discovered in Ethiopia and Yemen during the mid fifteenth century. Due to its caffeine content it really did serve the purpose of an Elixir. Its medicinal values were plenty and thus was a sought after drink. Coffee initially travelled through the Middle East and then moved to Turkey and from there to Italy and the rest of Europe. Called a Muslim drink because of its place of origin, it took the Pope to pronounce it as a drink for the Christians. Once this was done there has been no looking back. I think coffee came to India through the Arab traders who frequented the western shores of our country. However it was during the British Rule that coffee began to be grown as a cash crop. India is one of the leading exporters of coffee in the world and one of the most sought after variety in the world market is the Monsooned Malabar. Most of the coffee is grown in South India and thus it became a staple drink for the people of the South. Being more expensive than the varieties of tea available in the market, it was a drink of the middle classes and those upwards.
When I was nine years old we moved to a colony were most of our neighbours were Tamil Brahmins. Of the many things I learnt during those formative years, one was surely the importance of coffee with regards to those who patronized it. As I reached my teens, it amazed me that so much of logistics went into the preparation of coffee. I won’t be wrong if I say that among all the food prepared in a normal household, the utmost care is taken in the preparation of the coffee. The Brahmins are true connoisseurs of coffee and thus are very choosy when it comes to buying the right kind of coffee bean. Each family has a secret recipe for the perfect brew. Some of the families buy the bean and then roast and powder it in the house thus making sure that coffee is fresh and that the aroma is in tact. There are others who buy the powder on a daily basis so as to make sure that every iota of flavor is well preserved. The trouble taken to make the perfect brew is unbelievable. I have been to various parts of the world and no where have I seen coffee being made with such precision as is done in South India read Tamil Nadu. Here the process of procuring the decoction begins the previous night. The filter in which the decoction is made consists of a two compartment cylinder which has percolations at the base of the top half. The required coffee powder is put in the top portion and the right amount of hot water is added. There is a press which holds the coffee powder down. During the night the coffee percolates and flows down to the lower portion. By morning the required amount of decoction is available for the day’s use. This decoction is wonderfully thick and almost black and to this is added milk and sugar as required. A cup of this rich aromatic coffee is enough to satiate the stomach as well as to rejuvenate the mind in the early hours of the morning. The caffeine in the coffee serves as the perfect stimulant. The coffee is so thick, that it is said that one could slice through it. At any given time to consume more than 150ml of this coffee would be next to impossible. This coffee would normally be served in the quaint “tumbler and davara set”.
Even though I was privy to good filter coffee, I never ever had it in my childhood, adolescence or for that matter until a couple of years ago. I regret thoroughly the lost opportunity. I switched over to coffee just a couple of years ago, more for medical reasons. Now when I want to make the perfect brew I am at a loss for I have no clue as to how to go about it. I did buy a filter and couple of times even bought fresh ground coffee, but somehow things didn’t fall in place and my coffee did not come out the way it should. I thus reconciled to the fact, that I was not destined to have the Elixir the way it should be had even though I live in the home of the drink. My magic potion comes from the bottled variety broadly labeled the “Instant Coffee”. However I don’t let go of any opportunity to have the famous filter coffee.
With globalization has come branded coffee shops and Chennai too has her share of the same. When these shops first made their advent, I equated them as “carrying coals to Newcastle.” However I have to take back my words for these outlets are doing exceedingly well. I must give it to them that they make the perfect brew and stock coffees from various parts of the world. My choice at these outlets is always the Latte for this is what comes close to the home made filter variety. One reason I attribute to the success of these outlets could be the fact that with the fast pace that life has taken in the metros, the art and the time for making the perfect brew must be fast disappearing from the young households.
In the Middle East where it all started, coffee is still made the way it was back in the 15th century. In keeping with the old tradition, it is still served black and is called the qahweh. This is served in a small cup with no handle. The qahweh is flavoured with cardamom and the resulting aroma is so pungent that even the famed ‘Attars’ of the region have to give way. Drinking of the qahweh is a ritual and a novice would well be spotted by his ignorance. Thus diplomats and others visiting the Middle East read Saudi Arabia are briefed on how to perform this routine correctly.
I am glad that I finally found this wonderful Elixir. Although it is the watered down version that I indulge in, it nevertheless peps me up and helps me start my day on the right note. I don’t expect my coffee to make me an immortal like what the Elixir does, however I pray that it will help me lead a healthy and an active life!!

Salutations

Sunday the 16th of August turned out to be a very memorable day for me. When asked by Kumar to accompany him to a betrothal ceremony, I was hesitant. Since I had not seen any of the people involved in the said ceremony, I wondered if my presence was needed. There have been times when I go to places and see people for the first time and during most of these occasions, I just get to say a “hello” here and a “how are you” there and a “what is your name” kind of routine. The reason for this stilted situation could well be mine as much as the other party involved. It is just that after a certain age it becomes difficult to make overtures in the first meeting itself. The single reason that motivated me to go for the betrothal was the fact that the girl and the boy were both deprived of hearing and speech. My purpose was to congratulate them on having reached this stage in their lives and in my own way to show my support.
It was a very small gathering which included the families of the boy and the girl. The only outsiders were Kumar and me. The reason for this privilege was because the girl’s father has a Travel Agency in Delhi and he and Kumar are co presidents of the same organization. Yes the girl is a Punjabi. However as custom did not require her to be there, she was not present nor was her mother. The father and a handful of his family members had come from Delhi for what they call the “Rokka” ceremony. The boy was from Chennai but even then, the number of members on his side too was limited. I had no clue of what the boy did for a living or his family background. Since we reached the venue before the girl’s family, we were met by the boy’s people and thus began my tryst with some of the finest people I have met.
The first to introduce herself was a cousin of the boy. She seemed more like a grandmother to him. (She told me that she was referred thus by his friends). Here was this elderly person so full of life who had taken it upon herself to raise the boy. The boy’s mother had passed away while he was very young and his father was not educated. This cousin took the boy under her care and brought him from the village and gave him the special education that he needed. She saw him through his school education, then got him to do a diploma in engineering and even supported him till he was placed in a proper job. The boy is now employed as a programmer in a soft ware firm in Chennai. What impressed me more was the fact that the boy rides a bike and travels more than 30 kms daily on the death traps that our roads have become. I could not but gawk at this achievement. He is also the proud owner of an apartment which he has purchased on a bank loan. It is truly a worthy achievement considering that the boy is only 29 years of age. On hearing all this, I was at a loss for words; in fact I even considered prostrating at the feet of this marvelous woman who had given more than just a life to this boy. To him she must surely be a living God. I deemed myself lucky to have had this wonderful opportunity. The lady in question was so humble and unassuming that even congratulating her would have been a cause for embarrassment.
The next person to interact with me was an aunt of the boy. She was enthusiastic and seemed more in tune with the ways of the world. I learnt that she was a retired professor from one of the women’s colleges in the city. She too it seemed had played a pivotal role in the life of the young gentleman. As if that did not suffice, she had under her wings a charming young girl with speech disabilities. This young girl had come into her life when she was about eight and now she is 22 years of age. She is a Mathematics graduate and is proficient with computers. She is well employed and is also pursuing a correspondence MBA. I was introduced to this charming young lady but was tongue tied before her perseverance. I could only admire these two ladies but I am sure to them it must have been the most natural thing to do.
The boy in question was composed and dignified. I had thought that I could show my prowess in sign language (something I had learnt from an uncle who also had a speech and hearing disability) but that was not to be because he could lip read beautifully. I congratulated him and wished him the very best. There were a whole lot of things that I wanted to convey to him, but I knew I would be embarrassing him if I did so. Thus wishing everyone till we meet again at the wedding, I bid farewell.
The farewell was just a temporary action for I am certain that what I saw and learnt in those couple of hours can never be erased from my mind. That day I learnt the importance of commitment and selfless service. I also saw the glow on the faces of the two ladies whenever they mentioned their wards. As for the wards, the look on their faces was proof of the high esteem in which they held these wonderful women. I am glad I attended the betrothal, for it brought in me the reassurance that goodness still prevails in this world. Once again I got an opportunity to admire qualities like simplicity, selflessness and humility, which are rare occurrences of our times.

The Link

21st century India is in no way behind world happenings. With globalization being the norm, it is natural that everything which happens in the developed or Western world gets reflected in our country irrespective of its worthiness. Thus we see fashions which are least suitable to our culture and social acceptance taking centre stage and being looked up with awe. When thus is the vogue, one thing that should have long ceased to exist in the urban areas is the arranged marriage. Now as we are all aware, two kinds of marriages exist in India the first being the arranged marriage where the parents or other elders or friends try to find a suitable match for two youngsters who are ready to tie the eternal knot, the other of course is the so called love marriage (a term used particularly in India) where by the two partners find each other. The purpose of this article is not to elucidate the advantages or for that matter the disadvantages of one form of marriage from the other, but it is to highlight the role of the match maker when it comes to arranged marriages.
Arranged marriages have been the tradition in Indian society for centuries. Arranged matches are made after taking into account factors such as age, height, personal values and tastes, the backgrounds of the families (wealth, social standing) and their castes and the astrological compatibility of the couples' horoscopes. With this being the case, the scope of finding the right life partner in an arranged marriage narrows down tremendously. With all the communities being spread far and wide, it also becomes difficult for one to keep track or to get to know of the existence of suitable boys and girls in the community. Thus the role of friends and relatives come to the fore. This need has been capitalized by few who have made it a profession to help find the perfect match. These people are called marriage brokers and they exist in all communities in India. Depending on their social standing, they are able to tie together couples in similar hierarchy. Also in existence are marriage bureaus where the families of boys and girls could go and register, this too works on money as an amount has to be paid for registering and also for renewal of the registration. With the advent of the internet, these bureaus are freely available but for a price. However, even with the availability of these said avenues, the normal upper middle class families still prefer to find a match for their progeny with the help of friends and relatives. They somehow believe that an alliance recommended by a close friend or relative will stand the test of time. Mishaps have happened even in this mode, but the belief is that the bonds are stronger and thus the marriage will survive.
Recently my good friend Rathi was visiting and we spent the few days she was here, catching up on old times and things we had done together. I met Rathi first in 1987 when she became my neighbor in Al Khobar, Saudi Arabia. Being from the same community and to an extent from the same town, we had a lot in common apart from the fact that our wave lengths matched and thus a friendship was forged. It was during the nascent stages of our friendship that my parents were trying to find a match for my youngest sister and when I mentioned this to Rathi, she instantaneously came out with the names of not one but few of her cousins’ sons who were ready for marriage. I was surprised that she could rattle of so many names for in my family, the women far out beat the men when it comes to numbers and at any point of time, it is difficult to even mention one name leave alone 3-4. I asked her to keep in mind and to do the spade work during her next trip to India. It so happened that our holidays coincided and thus Rathi got to speak to one of her cousins and when they showed interest, the horoscopes were matched and with both our initiative the traditional ceremony of seeing the girl took place. However it took another 7 months for my future brother in law to come from the US to see my sister Geetha and once the name sake meeting took place, they were engaged and after another 7 months married. This is the 20th year of their marriage and the two architects are more than happy to see the end result.
This was my first experience in getting two people in holy matrimony. It built my confidence to the extent that I felt that I could play the role when it came to people I knew well. I have never bothered to look around or to gather the particulars of prospective brides and grooms, but if something came my way, I did not let it go either. I think of this as a social service which if it works could be a solution to the “Perfect Match”. Thus the next opportunity came my way when my Uncle was keen on his daughter’s marriage. She being a doctor, it was but natural that a doctor had to be found. The said doctor came to my notice and I became instrumental in yet another marriage. The third was the marriage of two of my friends’ children. The girl’s parents were known to me from my Saudi days and the boy’s parents after my return to India. I don’t want to elaborate, but however it needs to be said that in this case, my role was pivotal, because even without the parents meeting, the girl and the boy met in Canada and decided that they were meant for each other. Both sides had to go by my word and thus my responsibility increased. I was anxious, but it seemed totally out of place for when the said parents met, they hit it off so well. The couple came down on their first vacation last month, and my day was made when both of them told me that they were so compatible. I could not have asked for more. The next happening was again for a friend’s son and the girl happened to be my mother’s friend’s grand daughter, a family we knew well in Calicut. This too worked perfectly and the couple is in San Francisco.
I would be hurt and embarrassed if I were to be called a match maker for I don’t want to belong to the league of the brokers, dalals and the thousands of bureaus that have mushroomed. I see myself as a link for in that way; I would always be there for the couple and also be a part of their lives. I believe that every marriage is made in heaven and thus limit myself to the role of the above said link. Hence the happiness of Geetha and Unni, Rema and Anoop, Shalini and Arun and Arjun and Nandita would trigger in me that extra smile and elation, emotions which are rare to come by in our present world.
I wonder as to who will be the next in my list as I have been requested by some of my good friends to play the role yet again!!

The Walk

Today is the 174th anniversary of the Madras Christian College School. The school is situated in Harrington Road a good residential locality and has an ample campus with enough open area and very many trees. I am not an alumna of the school nor do I teach there. My connection to the school only goes as far back as the beginning of this decade. The reason for this association is because that is where I go for my morning walk. I started going there in the year 2001, only to stop within a short period. The lame excuse was that a small stretch of the road on which I walked to reach the school campus was dirty and could not be endured. Thus I shifted my walk to Loyola College another hallowed institution which was just at my door step and started going there from 2004 onwards. (The intervening couple of years, you have guessed right – yes, I did not go anywhere) This haven closed its door on all walkers in October of 2007 and this left me in search of another venue. So here I am back in MCC, for the second time and now I go there by car, leaving no room for any excuse about dirty roads and so forth. It also remains that the time for finding excuses is well past and I have absolutely no option but to walk.
With health awareness being on the rise, every doctor or for that matter any health column, advocates physical exercise. They may differ in their mode of activity however the base line is that 45 minutes of brisk walking is an excellent form of exercise. I consider myself an active person and enjoy doing all the activities any normal human being does. However going for a walk in the early hours of the morning is a different ball game. The need to do so in the early hours is because of the weather. Now early hours of the morning is the ideal time to sleep. I enjoy staying up late in the night when I catch up on all the world happenings and become a netizen. Thus getting up in the morning at five becomes an arduous task. When the alarm shrieks in the morning, the first reaction is to switch it off and doze back, however at that point the guilt pangs hit hard and thus I get myself to move out of the bed and after all the morning ablutions, and dressing up leave the house at about 5.35 am. My mood changes the moment I wear my shoes. These branded walking shoes, be it a Nike, a Reebok, or an Adidas have one thing in common, they can surely make you feel sprightly.
Once I reach the campus, I am in my elements and zealously guard the 45-50 minutes reserved for my walk. I don’t like to share that time with anyone and I enjoy walking on my own. It gives me time to think and to enjoy nature and the calling of the birds and other visual treats. It also gives me the time to interact with my God for it is then that I recite all my prayers. My only interruption during this period is the times I wave to known faces or sometimes pronounce a Hi. My speed is brisk or that is what some of the other walkers tell me. I do look out for the regulars as over a period of time I can recognize a person by their gait. I also get a glimpse of the youngsters at tennis and cricket. Now these are not the kids from the MCC School. The tennis coaching is given to outsiders and for those not in the know, this used to be the venue for Britannia Amrithraj Tennis Academy. As for cricket, the MRF Foundation is situated in this campus and this is the place where the likes of Chaminda Vaas, Sreesanth and many more of our pace bowlers have evolved. I see the youngsters coming in the morning and I try to remember their faces, for who knows a future Indian cricketer may be in the making. Being in the midst of these youngsters does make one feel a notch younger. On my fifth and last round, my mind meanders to home and the good hot coffee that is waiting for me. The few minutes after my walk when I wait for Kumar to finish are truly a treat. I make sure that I sit at a vantage point and watch all my co walkers. It is nice to see the various groups and the animated talking and discussion among the members. The feel at this point is also that of having accomplished a great mission and enjoying seeing others endure.
The mood during the drive back is one of elation. I say elation, because I get to spend the whole day not feeling guilty. I know that my morning walk will take care of the few extra calories I tuck in during that day. I also feel that the glucometer will be kind to me on that day. I make sure that I check my glucose level only on the days I go for my walk. Although I am fully aware of the world of good the walk does and even the fact that I enjoy my walk, the process of getting up in the morning is not at all pleasant. I just wait for the slightest excuse to avoid going. Sometimes I take consolation in the fact that I can instead use the Morning Walker. The Morning Walker is a machine, which promises a bag full of benefits. It just requires the user to live on the floor with the legs placed on the machine. When electricity is switched on the machine vibrates. This vibration is supposed to get all the organs to work over time and thus bring about the desired effect. I see no way as to how this can be a substitute for a brisk walk. There is no energy spent nor is there any effort put in. The machine is a sham and just a way for the lazy ones like me to get away.
I wish I could turn a robot in the morning hours as then there would be no question of laziness setting in. I really do want to go for the walk everyday. It is more than an exercise, it is that time of the day when peace and tranquility prevail, and it is that time of the day when one’s head is free from the tension and other goings on. It is indeed the best part of the day. I have to thank my walk for it is then that I get to see the dawn coming and thus enjoy the ways of the celestial world. The magical moment of the darkness turning to light is a wonderful transition and this is something I truly appreciate. Although dusk provides a similar moment, it is rarely relished as one is in the midst of the bustling world. I wonder if I would have ever gone for walks, if it were not a rider to good health. God’s ways are indeed wonderful. It is after all a small failure in my system that propels me to WALK. It is definitely his way of making a sluggish person like me to enjoy and appreciate his creations.

The Fabric of Life

Duck, drill, sateen, flannel, organdy, muslin, Swiss, poplin, oxford and lawn are just a few names of “The Fabric of Life”. Its spectrum ranges from the lowly cheese cloth to the most sophisticated linen (Madapolam) and from the sturdy denim to the gossamer voile. Yes it is about the cotton fabric that I wish to write. The prominence of this fabric has gone a full circle and is now back in the top position. Until half a century ago the only fabrics in use were the natural ones. Of this the three major ones are King Cotton, Silk and Wool. There were no in-betweens and this made the choice very simple. The use of these fabrics was well demarcated. Cotton being all pervasive could never be ignored. Even the mightiest of kings did have to use cotton to meet some of his demands. As for silk, it was precious and the common man’s use for it was minimal. A couple of silk saris were the most an average Indian woman had. Wool the third prominent natural fibre was never a contender when it came to displacing cotton. Wool precedes cotton in the Time Map as it was in use right from the days of the cave man. Its usage was limited and confined to the colder climates. Its niche in the fabric market has never been disputed and remains at the same level. The semblance in appearance between cotton and wool earned cotton the name Baumwolle meaning Tree Wool. (It was assumed in the medieval times in Northern Europe that cotton was derived from plant borne sheep.) This name continues to be used in most European languages.
The sixties saw the introduction of new yarns and fabrics and some of the first to arrive in the market were the terrylene, nylon, nylex and a whole range of other polyester or laboratory made fabrics. These fabrics did have their usefulness; being washable and easy to handle. What caught the eye of the people were the beautiful prints and colours used in its manufacture. These qualities were endorsed by the Bollywood stars and thus these manmade fabrics became a statement of style and it was deemed prestigious to own them. Then came the blended fabrics and a good example of this is the terry cotton. What made the terry cotton popular was the fact that it was crease proof and it retained some the qualities of cotton. It continues to be popular for its wash and wear property and is the preferred fabric for school and other uniforms. However people have begun to revert to good old 100% cotton with the latest technologies making the fibre crease free.
The cotton fabric has been in use for nearly 8000 years. Excavations at the Indus Valley and Inca sites have shown that the cotton fabric was in use. This makes cotton an integral part of history. India, China and Egypt have all cultivated and used cotton from time immemorial. North America a large producer of cotton must have centuries ago been influenced by the ancient Inca civilization. The cotton yarn is made from the bolls obtained from the cotton tree. This yarn can either be hand woven or machine woven and thus mass produced. Cotton is grown in most parts of India but the home of the cotton mills are Coimbatore in Tamil Nadu, Mumbai and Ahmedabad in Gujarat. The use of cotton in India is rather extensive. I cannot come across a single sphere where cotton is not in use. Right from clothing to bed linen, to table linen, to towels, to medical dressings, to bedding, to tents, to stove wicks etc are derived from cotton. In a hot Tropical country like India, there can absolutely be no replacement for cotton. The severe summers here become bearable only when one wears a pure cotton outfit. This fibre absorbs and releases perspiration quickly, thus allowing the fabric to "breathe".
Although cotton forms the core of my clothing, the recent purchase of some 2x2 blouse material (a form of cotton) is what got me to write this article. I got them tailored and the relief while wearing them was truly worth a mention. The trend being to use the fabric provided with the sari for making the blouse, I too land up doing thus. This entails using a lining material and thus makes the blouse thicker than what it should be. Rarely do saris come without the blouse material and I must say that I was lucky enough to get more than a couple in that category. Thus 2x2 was the definite answer for me and how happy I am with this decision. All of us grew up wearing these 2x2 blouses because those days the saris came without the blouse material. Thus even if the sari was not made of cotton, the blouse surely was.
India’s cotton industry has developed and evolved very well. We are the second leading producer and exporter of cotton in the world. Our very own Tirupur in Tamil Nadu produces hosiery which is marketed all over the world. Leading stores like Macy’s, J.C Penny, Harrods and Marks and Spencer’s get their requirements of cotton wear from India. The Levis jeans bought paying a handsome amount in New York could very well have had its origin in India. During my last trip to the US, I almost picked a bath towel only to realize that it was made in India. Thus cotton fabrics along with tea and spices form the bulk of Indian export to the world market. With this being the case, I am truly shocked at the number of suicidal deaths by the cotton farmers of Andhra Pradesh and Maharashtra. I presume a poor monsoon and the loan sharks may be the reason for this happening. Being a vicious circle, it is very difficult to escape. More needs to be done for the cotton farmers for it is they who provide us the raw material to make “The Fabric of Life”.
Now that I know the history of the multifaceted cotton, I am sure that it will be around as long as there is life on earth thus would live up to its name of “The Fabric of Life”.

Singara Chennai (Beautiful Chennai)

With Madras Day (August 22nd) fast approaching, I was looking up facts about the history of the city in order to prepare a quiz and once again came upon a fact well known to me. The fact is that the Chennai Corporation is the oldest civic body in the Commonwealth outside of the United Kingdon and dates back to 1688. That makes it 321 years old a fact to be really proud off. As all Chennaiites know, the Corporation of Chennai is situated in one of the most splendid buildings in the country called the Ripon Buildings built in honour of Lord Ripon, a Viceroy, who brought about sweeping reforms. On reading this fact, I gave a deep thought to the recent working of the Corporation and decided that it deserves a place in my blog. Suddenly, I remembered a couple of comments made by my close relatives who visited me in the month of July. The first was an aunt who had come from Kerala. She was in Chennai after a gap of 20 years and to her the city seemed to have changed drastically. After travelling on some of the arterial roads, she commented on how much cleaner the place seemed. She wondered as to where all the piles of garbage that used to earlier mount in the street corners had disappeared. She appreciated the improvement and lamented that the city she lived in was way behind when it came to civic amenities. I felt happy on hearing this. Just a week after this comment my brother in law who lives in the US came to stay with us. He too seemed very impressed about the progress made and commented on the prevailing cleanliness and overall look of the city. Coming from a person who has been living in the US for about 27 years, I really was proud. I knew that only an initiative by someone in power can bring about these visible changes and the first two names that came to my mind were that of the Corporation Commissioner Shri Rajesh Lakhoni IAS and the incumbent Mayor Shri M. Subramaniam. Both of them took up office in the second half of 2006 and this very well coincides with the time when the change for the better or the new look of Chennai also began. Now by the new look, don’t expect roads with 8 lanes or multi car parks or a zero garbage environment and so on and so forth. An eight lane road considering the lay of the land is an impossible proposition, as for the rest of it, I am sure it will happen.
The first visible change was the removal of all hoardings from the city skyline. This I must say was truly welcome. With the disappearance of the hoardings, the green lungs of the city are in the open for all to see and enjoy. The next was the greening of the city and providing more parks and recreational areas in the metropolis. Most of these parks were always there but were in decrepit condition. Now they are well maintained and are being used by the people in the respective locality. The garbage collection and the disposal of solid waste have become more pronounced. The difference is for all to see. With the introduction of the compressor vehicles, more garbage gets collected in a single trip. Privatisation of certain Corporation Zones with respect to garbage collection has also had a very positive impact. Innumerable public conveniences have been provided and it seems that in conjunction with various NGO’s more are in the offing. The bus stops have been totally renovated. Gone are the four poles with an asbestos sheet as the roofing. The new trendy bus stops are prefabricated stainless steel booths, well lit, with fans, phones, mobile rechargers, GPS systems and good seating arrangement. They seem to provide the ideal respite from the harsh Chennai sun.
The educational institutions run by the Corporation have all been rejuvenated and the aim is to get children back to these schools. With the poor infrastructure earlier provided by these schools, the lower income parents were forced to send their children to the fleecing private schools. The idea now is run these schools on lines of the government educational institutions in the developed world and make them on par with most of the private educational institutions in the State. Thus I hear there is a possibility that the international language English will be the medium of instruction. Another sphere of change has been provided in the various medical clinics and hospitals run by the Corporation. What used to be understaffed and under equipped health centres have got a total make over and it is said that some of them have become truly state of the art and a place where one can avail of treatment depending on one’s income. This is indeed a blessing what with the cost of medical treatment skyrocketing!!
As for the innumerable flyovers that have come on most of the arterial roads, they have indeed become a boon for the man on the road. The travelling time has been cut short and the traffic jams have reduced considerably. With scope for expansion of the roads being practically nil, nothing more than this can be expected. Just the other day I read in the papers that two of the abattoirs maintained by the Corporation have received ISO9001:2008. I consider this as a wonderful piece of news as these slaughter houses were in a state of total neglect.
All this makes an ordinary citizen like me who obeys the rules and pays the taxes feel that the money has been utilised for the welfare of the people. I am sure there would be a large number of people voicing the very same opinion. The sleeping lion has begun to roar and there is absolutely no way that it can be stopped or shall I call it the rolling of the juggernaut. The crowning glory would be the cleaning and beautification of the Cooum, a present day curse, which then can regain its past glory. A sister city agreement has been signed with San Antonio in Texas, USA, and their expertise is being sought for this purpose. It won’t be long before all of us can take a stroll on the river walk and relive the lost glory of this waterway which till the middle of the last century was a thoroughfare.
A fresh breath of life has been infused into this 370 year old city. The time has come for citizens like me to give back to the State more than just the taxes. I salute the men in the hot seat for making this happen. (May be they have been truly influenced by Lord Ripon!!)
Jai Ho to my Singara Chennai.
P.S. This is my tribute to the city I know and love best on her 370th birthday.

Assembly Line

Of all the hospitals in Chennai, the one I frequent is situated in Vadapalani. The main reason for this could be the fact that my good friend who is also my Gynaecologist practices there. I have the liberty to walk into her consultation at any point of time. This is something rarely enjoyed by a common man in India. Since she is there, it helps a lot when it comes to organizing anything at that hospital. Thus going to that particular hospital is not as psychologically stressful as going to any other hospital in Chennai or for that matter in India. Now this Hospital is not the state of the art Hospital, by this I am not referring to their operation theatres and other equipments. What I mean to say is the appearance of the building and the rooms. In fact I could even term it as being not a user friendly hospital as there are winding passages and innumerable staircases and thus a person on his first visit could literally get lost. It is to a large extent like a maze. Even with all these short comings, I swear by this hospital, because in almost all the cases the patient is treated well and the end result is always positive.
I would like to talk about the hospital’s Department of Cardio Vascular Surgery Department which is headed by an eminent doctor and a genuine human being. I have had the good fortune of meeting the said doctor who to his and his team’s credit has done around 10,000 operations in the last 12 years. This is definitely no mean achievement. What makes this feat remarkable is the fact that all this has been achieved without any publicity, propaganda or fanfare. When other hospitals in the city go all out to woo patients with sops and other gimmicks, the team at the said hospital has been going around doing their work in a quiet manner and achieving the best possible results. I write about this with some measure of authority, as I have had an opportunity to be a close spectator to all the proceedings.
The first time I ever got to go into an operation theatre was as a college student. We were interning in the Dietary Department of the Christian Medical College, Vellore and at that point donated blood for the open heart surgery of a 19 year old girl, whose name I vividly remember was Sudha. Those were the days (1976) when such operations were a rarity and as an incentive the senior house surgeon who got us to donate the blood, promised that we could watch the surgery. With lot of apprehension we youngsters watched the surgery. We felt a strong bonding with the patient as she was a girl of our age. The surgery was a success and we followed her progress through the post operative period and until her discharge from the hospital. I have had to go to theatres on very many occasions in the intervening years; however the next tryst with a Cardiac surgery was in 2007, when one of my uncles was unwell and after an Angiogram was asked to undergo a Bypass surgery.
This uncle being a bachelor has no close family who could take the lead and thus it was left to me to take the initiative and organize his hospitalization. Since the above mentioned hospital (not CMC Vellore) had one of the best Cardiology Departments, which also included a couple of renowned physicians we chose to go there. One of the doctors on the team was highly recommended. On meeting him I realized that he lived up to every word that was spoken about him. I was impressed by his attitude towards the patient and the patient’s family. He took that extra time to explain in detail all the complexities and also was more than willing to listen to what the patient or his family had to say – a quality rarely seen in doctors in India. Once it was decided that a Bypass was the only option, he assured us that he would make all the arrangements to get the same done at the earliest. He reconfirmed the credentials of the Surgeon and thus made us feel comfortable. With some juggling he managed to get us a date as it seemed that at any time there was a waiting list. I assumed that the reason for the waiting list could be because only one or two surgeries were performed on a single day. I was corrected on the numbers and was told that 5-7 Bypass surgeries were performed and still a waiting list existed.
Thus on August 6th 2007, I watched the Assembly Line in action at the Department of Cardio Vascular Surgery. On that day six surgeries were scheduled. The patients were prepared by the nursing staff and one by one with a gap of half an hour were taken into the theatre on the gurney. Just as they were ushered into the theatre with a half hour gap, they were also taken to the post operative room in succession with a half hour interval. Thus my Uncle being the third patient for the day, I was called in third to see him in the post op ward. The next day the same procedure followed. My Uncle and those who underwent surgery along with him were taken to the Post Op 2 and those who had their surgery on the 7th occupied Post Op 1. Thus in batches of six and seven, these patients completed their post op care and were sent to the rooms and wards. In the ten days I spent in the hospital the same procedure was repeated and I must gladly say that there were no mishaps what so ever. The assembly line was a well oiled mechanism with all the nuts and bolts in place. This mechanism is time and cost effective too. As a lay person, it is really hard to say as to how the assembly line works inside the theatre. I assume that like in the assembly line the patient is seen and acted on by juniors in the team until the critical part is done by the chief.
I am forced to think of the advances in medical science made in the last 31 years, from my first tryst at CMC Vellore to what I witnessed at the Vadapalani Hospital. During the one month that I spent in Vellore about 5 open heart surgeries were performed and that I believe was considered as being the most major of surgeries to be performed on the campus. The doctors there were said to be the pioneers in India and on any given day of surgery, the theatre was filled with doctors from the faculty as well as from other centres who had come to witness the operation from the gallery. Now, with the assembly line in place, the Bypass seems as simple as a tonsillectomy. Somehow the assembly line seems to have taken away to a large degree the risks otherwise involved. I wonder if this is how it works in other hospitals were more than one team of doctors operate. Since medical treatment is to a large extent the repetition of a successful methodology, I assume that the Assembly line would be in place at all the major health centres the world over especially when it comes to the Heart Bypass surgery.
This to me is bringing treatment to the common man in a manner very similar to how Henry Ford brought the automobile to the masses.