The Season

The only sad note I have while talking about my city is its weather. With a round the year minimum of 20 degrees Celsius and a maximum of 45 degrees Celsius the only seasons that we experience are hot, hotter and hottest. But then I am not an Englishman and hence the topic of the weather is not the uppermost in my mind. Invariably the Chennai weather and its lack of Geographical seasons (read winter) is what holds many outsiders including multi nationals from making Chennai their home. There has been a change to this in the last couple of decades as Chennai has begun experiencing a wonderful Season even without bringing about any change in its weather. This is a Season so unique to Chennai and of which no other city or country in the world can ever boast off. A Season which came into being as a result of the ingenuity of the Chennaiite, a Season so totally man made. Yes it is the Music and Dance Season that I am talking about. Being just around the corner, I thought it only right to pay my obsequious to this grand celebration.
This Music Season which was restricted to the month of Margazhi in the Tamil Almanac (December 15th to January 14th) has slowly but surely spread and now includes Karthikai (November 15th to December 14th) and Thai (January 15th to February 14th). As one is well aware, Chennai/Tamilnadu is the home to the much acclaimed Carnatic music which has its origin during the Vedic period and has evolved ever since and of the much acclaimed and revered and the oldest of Indian traditional dance forms namely the Bharatanatyam. With this high intensity of performing arts prevalent in one place and all of which proclaim obeisance to the Almighty, it was inevitable that it became an establishment or to put it otherwise Chennai had to become the Mecca for these two outstanding art forms and the pilgrimage by the followers was bound to happen. The time chosen for this pilgrimage is again perfect for it coincides with that period when the weather is pleasant and experiences some coolness in the air. The time is also perfect for the ladies to display their gorgeous Kanchivarams and showcase their finest Jewellery. It is indeed a joy to be at any of the kutcheries (musical recitals) for apart from enjoying the performance, the well turned out ladies are indeed a wonderful treat to the eyes.
I was trying to recollect the Margazhi of my childhood/youth and this is what I could remember. Having lived in a Brahmin neighbourhood, the arrival of Margazhi never went unnoticed. The kollams (rice flour designs) that decorated the threshold of homes were wonderfully elaborate and there would always be music in the air. The Thiruppavai (hymns written by Alwar (saint) Andal in praise of Lord Krishna) was rendered by groups of ladies/girls as was done during Andal’s time. The local Vaishnavite temples would be buzzing with activity all revolved around Andal. If there was no deity Andal, then a photo would take its place and this would be adorned with garlands and jewellery. It was even customary for young girls to have the Andal hairstyle and to dress in their Sunday’s best. There was festivity in the air; however the visibility was very low. Andal, Thiruppavai and the elaborate kollams did not make its mark on the masses as the awareness of marketing was virtually absent. The Sabhas were only a handful and during Margazhi held kutcheries where in all the stalwarts and the other upcoming artists participated.
That the festival has taken a humungous form is indeed a fact. Not able to contain it within the 30 days of Margazhi, it has spread in both directions. Every body who has it in them to host a festival, conducts one and the artists who take part come from all corners of the country and the world. The pre and post Margazhi festivals are not just restricted to Carnatic Music and Bharatanatyam for they include other forms belonging to these two genres. Thus the highly informed enthusiasts of Chennai are exposed to all of the best in music and dance that the world can offer. The performers consider it a privilege to be part of The Season and hence never miss an opportunity. Only a wizard/genius can make it to the top slot in the first season itself. The slot system thus becomes an unofficial marker as far as the popularity/recognition of an artist is concerned. It goes without saying that the top artists are in great demand and during a Season most of them perform every other day. It is also a God sent opportunity for the female artistes to showcase their saris and jewellery and indirectly or is it directly become the brand ambassadors for the leading retail sari showrooms.
The Season has also become a platform for corporates to proclaim their cultural awareness for attached to each of the Sabhas is a host of wealthy sponsors. With the visibility increasing, The Season has burgeoned and with it, its economics too. The Season has become the focal point for those in the Indian Diaspora with an interest in Carnatic Music and Bharatanatyam to plan their trip to Chennai. With most of the artists having performed abroad, they have among their followers loads of foreigners too. I was surprised when I heard a foreigner say that she was in India to trail artist “X” through her various performances during The Season. This heavy influx is an excellent source of income to the hospitality industry and to all the varied retail businesses in the city. Another business that runs well in the Sabhas is the canteen. It is considered a fashion to eat the mouth drooling snacks and Tiffin offered in the canteens and to top the fares with the much acclaimed filter coffee.
Here is a Novel Season of which we can truly be proud off. The Season is a perfect example of how the blend of private enterprise (The Sabhas) and the Government can bring about a success story. The Government conducts the Dance Festival at Mahabalipuram a venue so revered. The open air concerts with the 11th century rock carvings of “Arjuna’s Penance” as a backdrop is indeed very popular. In the last two years the city has been witness to yet another initiative of the Government and this is the Chennai Sangamam where the various folk dances and music are performed on the streets. This truly gives the feel of a mela, a mela (fair) in which the whole city is involved. An added incentive to the Sangamam is the availability of traditional Tamizh food prepared by Five Star Chefs and served at various localities. The Season is on its way and in the next three months one would be enveloped by Music and Dance. The goodness about The Season is that Chennaiites have the prerogative of ending the current year on a high note only to welcome the New Year on a higher one.
P.S. The Temple Tower on the Tamil Nadu Government Emblem is of the temple in Srivilliputtur, a temple devoted to Alwar Andal. Thus it was only a matter of time before The Season was established.

A Dream

I dreamt of “The Beast” parked in front of my house on Sivaganga Road. I guess that it is a far fetched dream but then dreams are just meant to be far fetched and with the current happenings, it is something that can definitely turn into reality. What prompted this dream could well be the just concluded trip of the Obamas to India and all the hype and fervor that went with it. Ever since the highest office in the world was open to an African American, I have been day dreaming of situations when the above could happen.
I have, by virtue of the curriculum in my school, been fed with American History from the young age of 13 and hence can proudly say that I know pretty well of the early happenings in that country. Right from the Pilgrim Fathers to the Thirteen Colonies to the War of Independence including the Boston Tea Party, to the Three Westward Expansions including the California Gold Rush to the Louisiana Purchase to the Civil War to the abolition of slavery to the modern day America, every wee bit is imprinted in my mind. George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton, Andrew Jackson, Abraham Lincoln and much later Woodrow Wilson, Theodore Roosevelt and of course John Fitzgerald Kennedy were the towering personalities of that history and their achievements were studied and recorded in my memory. The names of the latter year Presidents too have been etched in my mind, for how can any citizen of the world not know the name of the President of the USA? Whether these said humans had a direct impact on one’s life or not, they had to be known, for to put it simply, their position made them the most powerful human being in the world.
It goes without saying that the Presidency of the United States of America is the most coveted post and it really did not matter if the incumbent belonged either to the Republican or Democratic Party. Thus this is a position that any American with good leadership quality would like to hold and can aspire for. The official written eligibility to become the President of the United States is just three and these are: 1. Be a natural born citizen of the United States, 2. Be at least thirty five years old and 3. Should have been a permanent resident of the United States for at least fourteen years. As can be seen the clauses are simple and one by which any citizen can aspire for the post, provided he or she gets elected to the same. However the unwritten rules are far too many for in the 233 years that the USA has been an independent country, 43 of the 44 Presidents have all belonged to one particular race. The first and only exception is the present incumbent. With the US being called the land of the immigrants, what is it that makes the race of the 43 Presidents superior to the scores of other races which too have a significant presence in the country? It is said that there are more Jews in New York than the whole of the State of Israel and the same holds true for many other sects of the world. However none of the people from these innumerable races or religious groups have been able to break the barrier until the 4th of November 2008 when Barack Obama with his grit and determination and plenty of charisma and oratorical skills broke the shackles and moved ahead.
Does this mean that the era of the WASPS has ended? I am not sure as to how many of you know what the acronym WASP stands for. WASP means WHITE ANGLO SAXON PROTESTANT. In the history of the USA, 43 Presidents have ruled the country for 231 years and all of them were WASPS with the exception of Kennedy who was a White Anglo Saxon but instead of being a Protestant was a Catholic. So powerful has been the domination of WASPS that breaking their impregnable barrier was nothing less than a miracle. It is a fact that the WASPS were the first settlers in the New Land and that it was them who gave the Thirteen Colonies its due importance. This to an extent made them the natural rulers in the early days. The WASPS brought with them their knowledge and know how and thus gained supremacy over the Native Americans who were the original inhabitants. It was this supremacy that they held on to very tightly and never wanted to relinquish. It seemed as if there was an unwritten pact among them that whichever party they belonged, they will keep the power to themselves. What boggles me is the fact that the other races who are present in very large numbers and who could have tilted the electoral balance, just did not even consider putting up a fight. President Barack Obama by his winning has definitely opened new vistas to the multitudes of youngsters from the other races, who can now dream of becoming the most powerful man in the world provided they meet up with the three written criteria.
Here is where my personal interests come to the fore. I have two nieces and one nephew living in the US. Two of them are teenagers and the third is just nine years of age. The two teenagers are showing wonderful leadership qualities and it seems as if nothing can stop them from achieving their goals. The oldest is my niece Preetha and she has done us proud by gaining admission to Harvard where she will be taking up her under graduation in Anthropology. Although she is planning to become a doctor like her parents, I have told her that having got into the Hallowed Institution that is Harvard, she has to think beyond medicine and look at all the doors that would open for her in the corridors of power. The Oval Office will be beyond her reach for among the three clauses, she does not fulfill the first one for she was born in Manchester, United Kingdom. The next in line is my nephew Krishnan; he is extremely intelligent with the best academic records. His interests and involvement in all extra curricular activities is immense and his leanings to philanthropy are way beyond his age. Being his aunt, I may sound biased but believe me when I say that he has all the qualities of an intelligent and capable leader. By virtue of being born in the USA he would qualify in the next 20 years when he will turn 35, the prerequisite age to stand for the office of the President.
I see nothing wrong in dreaming of my Krishnan in the Oval Office. The next time when I meet him, I will have to find out if he too is dreaming the same dream. And if he is, translating the same to reality would definitely be a Herculean task, but knowing Krishnan, I am sure with his meticulous planning and execution, he can achieve the same. By becoming the President of USA, what President Barack Obama has done apart from laying bare the three clauses was to open the flood gates for the thousands of aspirants who are not WASPS.
Will November 4th 2032 turn out to be the GOLDEN LETTERED DAY for the family!!

The Nail

Yesterday there was a murder in my immediate neighbourhood. It was a daylight murder at its gruesome best and well witnessed by few hundreds. I don’t even want to mention that I could sense glee in some of those faces. Then there were others who either turned their heads away or tried to circumnavigate the concerned area. The victim must have been around 35 years age and well in her prime. The cruelty shown by the murderer was heart breaking, but then I guess the murderers were only doing their job. They were paid to do it and the term used for the same in the Mumbai underworld would be “a supari”. Sitting in the comfort of my car, I did give the victim’s life more than a thought. I visualized her standing tall and stoic and remembered the comfort people took under her out stretched arms. She will truly be missed for ever since I moved into the locality she has been there to greet me on my various trips to and fro. In fact every time I saw her it gave me a sense of relief (especially when I am behind the wheel) for it meant that I have reached my “pettai” and thus nothing could go wrong.
The lady in question was a wonderful Butea Monosperma also known as the Flame of the Forest. The reason for her murder was yet another conversion of an independent house into an apartment block. The glee on the face of the onlookers (builders) could well have been the few extra square feet available to make their concrete jungles. Every square feet of land in this area is worth its weight in gold for coming up just across this plot is Chennai’s most expensive apartment building priced at Rs. 8 crore per apartment which when roughly calculated works out to Rs. 30,000/- per square foot.
Being a witness to this murder was not easy; I knew there was hardly anything I could do as the concerned person would surely have got permission from the authorities before going ahead with the hacking. My knowledge is that permission is definitely needed before doing away with the flora of the city. With the green cover being so poor, every sapling deserves to be looked after like an offspring and here was this beauty well in her prime and towering so tall and having years of service left in her being just done with as if what mattered was the couple of lakhs she would bring from the real estate that her base provides. The thought of the green cover over my city and my country was a matter which cannot be contained in the few hundreds of words that constitute my article; however I was reminded of the nursery rhyme which went thus, “Little drops of water make the mighty ocean, Little grains of sand and the pleasant land.” Thus doesn’t my Flame of the Forest have a role in the mighty green cover that we so dearly need?
They say that the next war that would be fought among nations or in the case of our country among states would be for that precious commodity which covers 70% of the Earth’s surface and constitutes more than 50% of the human body and is also known as the “universal solvent” thanks to its properties. Well you guessed it right; the war would be over that never much given thought and as of now freely available substance WATER. We have already reached that phase as our state is at dogger heads with its neighbours be it on the Cauvery issue or the Mullaiperiyar Dam. Why are we fighting over water that is so freely available? The reason is simple; most water found in nature is not suitable for human consumption thanks to its solvent properties. The water required by mankind is the rainwater or that water which is formed when our glaciers (again formed when rain water condenses in the colder regions and at high altitudes) melts and comes down the rivers. When there is a lack of green cover, the carbon dioxide emitted by cars and factories reach the upper atmosphere and helps trap heat around the Earth’s surface. This in turn brings about global warming as well as a change in the weather resulting in the lack of rain. Trees are thus considered nature’s most efficient “carbon sinks.”
The greed and the crass attitude of man are the only reason for this beautiful green cover to be depleting. Little are we realizing as to what would be the result of this action on our planet in the years to come. Much is being spoken about global warming and the depletion of the ozone layer and the green house effect. It is as informed citizens of this world our duty to protect our environment and leave behind something to cherish and hold for the generations that follow. In India we have started experiencing the fall out of our callous attitude with people in cities have to pay a ransom for water that until thirty years ago was so freely available. When bottled water was first introduced in India, I thought it a joke. It amused me that people would pay whatever they did for a one litre bottle when the same money would fetch something more precious. Living in a coastal city, it seemed ridiculous in having to pay for water. Well that was almost 25 years ago and from then to now, I have come a long way. From the water tankers, to the bubble top to the packaged bottle water it seems that we spend a fortune on water alone. (During my recent travel I had to spend almost Rs. 200/- for a normal 500ml of water, and then I thought to myself what the cost of Perrier or any other branded fancy water would be. I have kept the empty bottle as a souvenir.) In Chennai, the water tanker is the king on the road, thanks to commodity that they carry. The other motorists and pedestrians dread the blue vehicles for apart from the license to drive; they also seem to be in league with the fictional James Bond for they carry with them the License to Kill.
I mourn the death of my Butea Monosperma for apart from her beauty and the shade that she provided, her red carpet was truly welcoming. Somehow when I think of her decimation, I am only able to equate her with the quintessential Nail, for the want of which the battle was lost.
I am aware that there are other Nails that are dearly required if this Battle is to be truly won and may be as a start, I would decide to walk more and use the car less. This would definitely result in a 0.0000000000001% better environment and a 100% healthier me.

The Crab

It was a restless night and the reason for it being so was more than one. The day was hectic and in the normal sense I should have just dozed off, but well that did not happen. I was at my cousin Veena’s place in Bangalore and being the first night there, the bed was new and hence it took me a while to adjust. The second reason could be that my left shoulder was giving me pain thanks to my spondylosis and thus I was tossing and turning in bed unable to catch a wink and it was precisely then that my phone rang. The time was only 1.30a.m., however the call did not surprise me. It seemed as if I was expecting the same and hence my restlessness. The name that flashed on the screen was the name I had expected. Thus even before attending the call, I knew what the news would be. For one thing no one wakes you up that early in the morning/night to have a chat with you or to convey news regarding sweet nothings unless you are in that stage of your life when “ROMANCE” is in full bloom. The news had to be serious and well it could not have got more serious. Unnikrishnan a long time associate/help/almost a peripheral family member had called it a day. It was his brother in law giving me the news. He had succumbed to the crab that was otherwise known as Cancer.
He was 51years old and until a year ago had lead a hectic life. A life which saw a meteoric rise in his social standing and also the urge to achieve and acquire all that was considered the norm in today’s world. He seemed to be in a hurry and we always wondered why he was rushing. Little did we realize that he had to finish his responsibilities within a specific period? Death is definitely the only certainty in all our lives, however being human we plan and execute as if our lives are everlasting. May be Unnikrishnan was more aware that he would have an early call and thus his hurry. Anyway he had touched our family’s life like he had so many lives in Chennai. We were totally in the know of his illness and had in our own way contributed to ease his difficulties. Unnikrishnan was the latest in the long list of so many friends and acquaintances who had been the victim of the crab. It has been bothering me for a long time the rise in the number of people who have been afflicted by this condition which not only eats your body but also without doubt eats at everything else you have. This disease and its treatment make one’s life so traumatic and unbearable that I have so often wondered as to which was worse, the condition or its treatment.
Being the month of September, a month related to Cancer, I had attended a meeting where a leading Oncologist gave a lecture. His opening remark was that Cancer was the only condition where the blame for acquiring can only be put on one’s own self. No outside element was involved and thus he said that it was within a person to lead the right kind of life and by doing so stay away from the radar of the Cancer. I like all the attendees at the meeting realized that it this was easier said than done. The awareness of the don’ts regarding this condition with the exception of using tobacco and alcohol is so poor that you wonder as to how a layman will ever get to know how he should lead his life. AIDS which came into existence only in the last three decades has surpassed Cancer when it comes to awareness. The reason could well be the “colourful” manner in which it is transmitted.
Frankly no person would do anything stupid to become a victim of Cancer. Having said that, I realize that you do not have to knowingly do anything stupid, because there are a hundred things around you including the air you breathe that could well be the cause for the condition. Doctors advocate you to refrain from alcohol and tobacco. I agree that these two are the major wreckers but at the same time I feel that they alone cannot cause all the trouble. May be they could if you drown yourself in any one of them. Lung cancer is attributed to smoking and liver cirrhosis to alcohol. However I can in my own sphere mention names of people who have succumbed to both these conditions without being a smoker and or an alcoholic. How do you explain these deaths?? So what precautions are the doctors talking about? They could as well say that passive smoking could be the cause of lung cancer; however can passive drinking be the cause of liver cancer?? The more one delves into the conditions that cause cancer, the more one is dumbfounded and totally at a loss for words. Doctors recommend inclusion of five servings of vegetables and fruits in one’s diet, but on the other hand they say that the pesticide and preservatives used to grow and store them could well bring about cancer. With this being the case how does a layman go about leading his life? Can each of us afford to have a vegetable garden and a farm where in we grow all our dietary requirements? Is it possible in this 21st Century to lead the lives our forefathers lived a Millennium ago? (It could be possible if we all turned Amish, I guess.)
In the last few months ever since I became an owner of an iphone with an internet connection, I have been appalled by the awareness of the WIFI waves in the surrounding air. If the WIFI in my phone is left on, every few feet that I travel, I am invited to join the various connections in the passing neighbourhoods. This made me realize that we are living in a world encompassed by magnetic waves which in no measure is good for our well being. Having said that one really does not have to go outside the house to be victimized by these waves, the electronic gadgets present in the modern homes including the microwave oven, the cell phone and computer can in their own ways cause enough damage to one’s health. I wish the doctor had advised me as to how I could do away with these necessities in my daily life.
What really took the cake was the shocking news I came across just recently. It was mentioned that in future 2% of Cancer could well be due to the CT and MRI scans taken routinely as diagnostic measure for various ailments including Cancer. I am sure that this percentage is only going to increase with the years. Thus we have reached a situation where from breathing to eating to even undergoing a treatment can in itself be the cause of Cancer. I wonder as to who coined the word Cancer for this condition. For this condition, like the crab burrowed deep in the wet sands, is able to cause enough damage in our bodies for a long period before it manifests in various forms.
As a lay person, my assessment is that there is no fool proof cure for this condition and the so called ‘remission” that the doctors proudly claim is only a waiting period before the next harsher blow comes by.
Unnikrishnan died of liver cirrhosis and he was a person who never ever had an alcoholic drink.

Be Prepared

At 102, blind UK woman is the oldest Girl Guide. A 102 year old visually impaired British woman is now the country’s oldest Girl Guide, a media report said. Betty Lowe joined Girl Guides volunteers aged 11 in 1919. And, in the finest Guides tradition she does a regular good turn by spending a few hours washing up at Salford Royal Hospital canteen and chatting to patients. – Times of India – 14th September 2010.
When I read the above report in the said paper, it got me thinking of this wonderful movement called Girl Guides and my participation in the same. Later when I Googled to refurbish my memory about the salient features of the movement, I realized that the movement began in 1910, thus making this the Centenary year. I consider this a humble tribute to this great movement which has taught me so many things and has also given me some great times in my youth.
At 102 if Betty Lowe who is visually impaired can continue to be a true Girl Guide, it just speaks volumes of the impact the Guiding movement must have had in her life. I cannot talk or write of myself in the same league as her or of other great leaders of the movement who devoted their time and energies doing the things the movement taught them and imparting the same to the younger generations. However in some way, I think I am still a Girl Guide as in every action I do I make sure that I never go against the Guide Promise which is – 1. To do one’s duty to God and to one’s country,
2. To help other people at all times, and
3. To obey the Guide Laws.
Over the years the Laws have rusted from my memory however the gist is well ingrained in me and even if I were to deviate, I think I end up having a restless feeling for days to come.
Girl Guides was part of my school life. I joined the movement in the year 1967 when I was in the sixth standard. I wouldn’t say that our school could boast of a big unit; however we did have enough students and Mrs. Chandran was our Guides Teacher. My patrol was named Aster and the other patrols had similar names of flowers rarely seen in India. I think this is something to do with our school in that era when everything was Anglicised. I guess that was fine for after all the Movement had its origin in the UK. On joining I became a Tenderfoot Guide and was in that category for almost year. This was a time when we learnt all the wonderful Guiding songs and on the whole had some fun time after school on all Wednesdays. Slowly skills were taught to us and in a prescribed time frame, I became a Second Class guide. Thus apart from my Guide Emblem and my Patrol Emblem, I had the Second Class Guide Emblem sewn on my sleeve. By now I knew all the knots like the reef knot, the sheep shank, the sheet bend, the bowline, clove hitch so on and so forth. The rope which was part of our gear became a play thing and we competed among ourselves in becoming a pro. The Morse code was taught and with the help of flags we could communicate. We also learnt to get a fire going and had some wonderful time learning cooking. Collecting twigs and making the fire was a group activity and so too was the cooking that ensued. There was no competition involved and this made the whole activity pure and simple fun.
I became serious about my Guiding and never missed a class or a camp. Camps were fun with so many meaningful day time activities and always ended on a high note with the campfire around which we showed cased all our music and dance talents. Any knowledge gained was tested and on completion ended in a badge. Thus the zest began to collect badges. In the meantime classes were also conducted in First Aid and Home Nursing by the St. John’s Ambulance and on qualifying we were presented with a certificate and the relevant badges. Slowly or was it in quick succession, I got qualified to be a First Class Guide. The next aim was to become a President’s Guide, the highest honour for any Guide and I worked for it. Thus at the age of 14 years, I achieved this feat and on the 11th of November 1971, received the certificate from Shri V. V. Giri the then President of India. I would definitely call this one of the highlights of my life. Being in the Mughal Gardens of the Rashtrapati Bhavan was a dream come true. The build up to the trip was in itself exhilarating. We had a pre camp at the Wesley High School, Royapettah, were the freshers in the movement came to us and asked for advice. We were treated and looked upon as high end achievers. Looking back I think the experience was scintillating.
It is indeed sad to note that the Movement is in wane in India. There are hardly any schools in Chennai which promote Guiding and Scouting. I wonder why the people in authority have shunned this wonderful activity from their curriculum. The focus just seems to be on individual activities and the sense of competition has become all pervasive. It is truly disheartening because the child of today is not really prepared to face the reality that the world has to offer. A small discomfort and they are ready to jump out of the system. I have seen this happen among young kids as well as graduates and post graduates. I wonder how the kids of today would react if they were to go to a Jamboree where thousands of children live in next to a primitive condition. Then I wonder if such Jamborees still exist. I consider myself lucky to have gone to Mumbai in 1970 to attend a Jamboree. At 13, it seemed then that we were out in the big world all on our own. We managed extremely well on the basic meals offered and on the most basic of accommodations that was available. No kid from our background would even want to venture into such a scenario now. How will they survive without their fancy gadgets and even fancier attitudes? I wonder as to who is to be blamed - Is it the school system for not instilling in them the values that really matter or the parents for over protecting the child and dancing to all their whims and fancies?
I wish some responsible authorities would get to read this blog, for apart from being a Tribute, it is also a request to schools to revive this Movement. The results would be wonderful for I can be sure that they will have as students not only geniuses (as is the trend these days) but also good children who have in them the urge to do good and to be worthy citizens in their later life. The end result would be generations of children and adults who would always follow the Motto – Be Prepared.

Septuplets

Mine is the last name in a list that contains only seven names. However this in no way makes me sad, for on the other hand I am extremely happy that I am one among the septuplets. To me it is a very privileged list; a list for which I am willing to jump the toughest of hurdles. The truth is that, the privilege came to me with ease and this I consider GOD sent. But then how can it be otherwise? Definitely God has everything to do with this list for after all if not for Him the list would not exist. I have become one among the seven trustees of a temple in my home town of Mankave, Calicut. The temple has been with the Variyath family for a very long time. Much as I tried to trace its beginning, I was left clueless and totally in the dark. Tracing the history of the temple would have in a way enabled me to trace the history of our Tharavad, (my maternal family) as this temple has been on our property for as long as anyone can remember.
The earliest memories I have in relation with this temple is from my early childhood. The memories are not of having seen the temple or worshipping there. It had to do with having the “theertham” from the temple and of applying the sandalwood paste that was brought daily by my Great Uncle. As a child the image I had formed of my Great Uncle was that of an ascetic. He would come to his sister’s (my maternal grandmother) house in the early hours of the morning his whole body smeared with the holy ash, and have in his hand a container with the theertham and a plantain leaf with the sandalwood paste and flowers. This would be a daily routine. He had his own Puja under the staircase and to us kids, he lived on another plane. It was after some years that I got to know the source of that theertham and his affinity to the said temple.
During my just concluded trip to Calicut, I got an opportunity to speak to my aunt and uncle and it was from them that I learnt that until about 60 years ago, the property on which the temple stands was out of reach for most people. It was densely wooded and an ideal place for miscreants and vagabonds to inhabit. The temple was there but no one dared to go and pray. It was at that juncture that my Grand Uncle decided that he had to do something about the temple and thus began his daily worship. Being a man of very limited means, there was only this much he could do. He made sure that the minimum routines of a temple were performed. This routine continued till his demise in the mid seventies. I could almost say that it was my Grand Uncle who single handedly made the temple a place of worship again. His relationship with the temple was a symbiotic one. Other than giving him mental peace, his routine served as the best antidote for his high blood sugar. The climb to the top of the hill for worship twice a day was definitely the best exercise any doctor could prescribe. He had, prior to his involvement with the temple been admitted with severe diabetes and had even gone into a state of coma. The reason he survived this coma, could well have been to give a rebirth to the Thennamkunnu Shiva Kshetram.
The Eighties saw the temple fall into the hands of an outside Trust for want of family members to take care of the same. Thus for almost two decades the temple was in the control of outsiders. Little was done and the only celebration was the annual Shiva Rathri. Much as we all made sure that we made offerings there, it was just a very paltry sum with regards to maintaining a temple. After some time, the managing Trust lost interest in the temple. The chief reason I guess could be the almost nil income from the premises and the lack of participation from the people of the area. Sometime in the late nineties, members of the family began to renew their interest in getting the temple back from the Trust. I think the interest peaked in keeping with the times, for that was the period when people of all faiths began going back to the CREATOR. Thus it became a matter of great importance to the members of the Variyath clan to have the temple back in their custody. Even at this point my role in the whole affair was absolutely zero. I was however aware of all the happenings, for how could it be otherwise!! During the annual school/college vacation, (which was only to Mankave) a day would not pass without a mention being made of the temple. Added to that, my mother had so much of faith in the presiding Deity and thus every event at home saw an offering being made to the Thennamkunnu Shivan.
In the meantime, the temple which stood on 70cents of land had been encroached by settlers on all sides and in the bargain had lost about 20 precious cents of land. Seeing the pathetic state of affairs, a few of the family members, garnered all the courage and strength and by the beginning of the new century began to correspond with The Trust and finally after five years of running up and down the length of God’s Own Country, got the temple back in the custody of the family.
The temple is once again ours and the onus is on us to see that things move well. Most members of the family have contributed in earnest and work on resurrecting the temple has begun. The sanctum sanctorum is nearing completion. Like other temples in Kerala, wood is extensively being used and this in turn definitely gives it a majestic look. The two disadvantages of using wood are that the work is slow and the cost is prohibitive. However the family has decided to go the full length and thus there will be no cutting corners. The people in the vicinity seeing the earnest work and the progress being made, have started showing interest in the happenings of the temple. The footfalls have increased, which in itself is a very good sign. Some of them have also made contributions in cash and kind. I was indeed lucky to witness the installation of the “Thaligakudam”/”Kumbam” atop the Sanctum Sanctorum during my recent visit.
All the progress mentioned above happened before the Trust was officially formed. With the “Valiaveettil Variyath Thennamkunnu Kshethram Trust” becoming a registered body, the septuplets have a lot of work to do. With only me living outside of Kerala, I will have to work that extra bit to show that I am worthy of my place. Since Mankave is just eleven hours away from Chennai, I have offered to be there whenever needed. My contention is that, if my Grand Uncle with nothing but sheer will power could give the family a place of worship, then why can’t we, as his descendants, with definitely more at our disposal, finish in a fitting manner what he humbly started. So it is definitely wake up time for the Septuplets - Krishnakumar, Susheela, Gangadharan, Lakshmi, Vasantha, Mohan and Usha for they have miles to go before they sleep and miles to go before they sleep!!!

The State of Red

Kolkata is where my husband spent his youth and hence his love for the city is paramount. Anything Bengali or having to do with Kolkata gets his antlers up and thus when he was informed that a friend’s daughter was getting married in Kolkata, he did not waste a moment and blocked his tickets for the trip. I was keen on going too, for it was over five years since I had met the said friends and of course the pull to buy good Bengal cotton saris was immense. However it set me thinking about my first trip to Kolkata which turned out to be a disaster in more ways than one and if I may say so, the only saving grace was K.C Das (a taboo for me) and RMCA Basak, the Sari place. I wondered if it was time for me to change my opinion.
After my marriage, I had heard so much about Kolkata from Kumar, that I was keen on seeing the place. So many of the street and area names were familiar to me from constant hearing that it was indeed with a lot of enthusiasm and gaiety that I started on my journey to Kolkata in 2001. As luck would have it, we had planned our onward journey by train and before we could even cross the Tamilnadu border, Sridevi who was only four years old then became sick. There was no way we could break the journey and thus proceeded. Howrah railway station was a nightmare and the taxi that we took to our hotel had apart from the windows on the sides a big hole on the chassis which allowed us to keep track of the metal road below. The hotel we checked into had seen its good days a couple of decades ago (the time when Kumar was there) but was in a state of complete deterioration and staying even one night with a sick kid was unthinkable. With help from some contacts we moved to a decent guest house the next day and spent the rest of our holiday there. In the meantime, Sridevi got well and we did the usual rounds of sight seeing, shopping, restaurants and literal walking down memory lanes. However I could not help but notice with dismay the state of the city and I couldn’t think how the state that had given us almost all our Nobel Laureates and a state so well known for it thinkers, artists and creative people could ever be like this. I wondered as to how the present generation of intelligentsia could sit back at the total disarray that Kolkata presented. I cannot tell you as to how grateful I was that my domicile was in Tamil Nadu. It was then that I truly began to appreciate the role of our civic bodies and government in improving and maintaining our environment. (Coming to think of it, this was in 2001 when the Corporation was not as active and omnipresent as it is today.) That trip ended on a miraculous note what with the ceiling fan missing Sridevi by a whisker. Yes, the fan at the Guest House just decided to give way and fell aplomb on the bed. At that point I had decided that Kolkata was not for me and another trip was unthinkable.
As they say, time is the best healer and it must be that the nine years had helped in diminishing my feelings and thus when the next opportunity came I packed my bags and set off. We are well into the second decade of the Century, a Century that has seen India burgeoning in all areas. A Century, in which India and Indians stand shoulder to shoulder with the best in the world. A Century, which has seen some of our countrymen doing immensely well in their specific fields and have in the process earned a niche among the richest in the world. In short the last ten years have been great for the country as it has made tremendous strides in all walks of life. This change has been noticeable all over the country right from the biggest of metropolises to the two and three tier cities and even to some extent to the small towns and villages. There seems to have been the much needed seeping of the wealth to the roots and thus the rise in the standard of living is obvious everywhere.
However the third populous city in India seems to be in a shell of its own. To an outsider, it looked as if the city and the state were in a deep slumber totally oblivious of all the happenings around. NOTHING had changed in the nine years. The roads and the pavements were bad and the road transport consisted of fleets of buses belonging to the early 20th century. As for the buildings, with the exception of the star hotels, malls and corporate offices were so badly in need of maintenance and a coat of paint. How I wished that the next time it rained there, it would be Paint and not water that fell from the skies. Some flyovers are in place however that and the new development of Salt Lake is nothing to write home about. The bunker shops on the sides of the road were a picture of poverty. I wondered as to how anyone could eke a living from such establishments. The parks on the road side were totally neglected and with the exception of few urchins playing ball and our four legged friends grazing, were ignored by majority of the population. With regard to the medical care, I did not have to do any probing for while in Chennai itself, I have seen a sizeable number of Bengalis taking treatment from the leading hospitals here. Thus the three days I spent there made me think and feel a sense of helplessness. I wished that I had the strength and the means to bring about an awakening. I returned with a heavy heart, which I must say was lightened with a compulsory visit to RMCA Basak.
I cannot pin point the blame for this apathy on anyone for who am I to do so. However I hope that the majority of the readers will agree when I attribute these reflections as being the State of Red.
PS. This indirectly becomes an ODE to my city of Chennai nee Madras as she celebrates her 371st Birthday.

The Makeover

It was time that Sowparnika got a makeover for she had begun to look shabby. In fact I had been toying with the idea for over a year and had even started feeling guilty of not having taken care of her appearance and of not having updated her with the changing times. Now I know that it is practically impossible to be the leader when it comes to keeping abreast with what is in vogue, however my idea was only to give her a different look a look which entitled her to a place in the 21st century. It dawned in me that for the last quarter of a century I have been looking at the same pieces of furniture kept in the same position and this truth brought in me a strange feeling of living in a home laid out for the visually impaired. The urge to renovate came to the fore; but the thought of executing seemed a very scary proposition. The main reason for my wariness was the thought of tilting the well poised apple cart and the inconvenience that would follow.
I did not have to wait long for my idea to take shape, for dot on her 13th birthday; Sridevi came up with her demand for a spacious room with an attached bathroom. Those who know Sowparnika know that Sridevi’s room was bereft of a bathroom and as a growing child who would before batting an eyelid become an adult, her demand was indeed justified. She was at present using the room earmarked for Guests. With live in guests being a norm, she would invariably be thrown out of that room on a regular basis. Thus as parents we took a decision to remodel an existing room and make it suitable for her needs. It seemed so simple a task. What was planned was the breaking down of a wall and including some open area to an existing room. The other half of the open area, we decided would be incorporated into an existing hall. It was a miniscule of a job in the scheme of things, and everybody from the contractor to the engineer to the architect were in agreement of that.
I am not a brick and mortar person and hence the initial stages of the work were not very exciting to me. Moreover when the work began, I was more focused on my US trip and hence did not get into the nitty gritty of things. This scene changed when I got back from the US and by mid June I was totally involved and busy picking up things for the finishing touch. I don’t consider myself an interior decorator, but somehow I think I may not be exaggerating when I say that I have a good aesthetic sense. I attribute this to my interest in Mathematics as this always helps me to see symmetry and balance whenever it comes to placing furniture and artifacts. I dare not try anything dramatic, for I would not know how to come clean at the end. Hence the last two months have seen me entering and exiting various shops ranging from furnishings, furniture, electrical fittings, sanitary ware, and hardware stores and so on and so forth. Without exaggerating I can say that I have visited the chosen shop in each specialty more than half a dozen times. For some unavoidable reason I could not make it to Chennai and hence had missed out on the final finishing in 1985. This I felt was a second chance provided to me. It also seemed a wonderful era to shop what with the latest in everything being freely available. Thus I made full use of the scenario and kept flitting in and out of the house at the drop of a hat. For someone fond of window shopping, this seemed a God sent opportunity. Thus I purchased with glee, whatever I felt most suited my dwelling. At this point I must say that it was not entirely a cake walk, for I had to also please a teenager who had a whole set of ideas brimming in her head. What was cheese for me turned out to be just chalk for her. Thus I quickly adapted to her way of thinking and in a very ingenious way and after some willful compromising we reached our goal.
However I was in for some disappointment when I realized that I could not get the workers to perform on time and in the manner in which I wanted. I quickly learnt to endure this disappointment, however being a normal mortal, my patience began to run thin. I was promised that the total work would finish in 2-3 months and the truth now was that the work had entered its sixth month. I don’t know even at this point if I could boldly and surely say that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel for in my scheme of things the end should have happened very long ago.
The final outcome definitely erases the frustration caused by the lackadaisical attitude of the people involved in the execution of the work. The bedroom looks beautiful with the fancy colours on the wall and the bright floral curtains. The walk in wardrobe is humungous and the dressing area is a dream of every girl/woman. As for the extension of the hall, it surely is picture perfect. With minimal furniture and an earthy atmosphere, it takes you back in years. The filtering of sunlight thanks to the pergola, gives it a well deserved aura. I had never dreamt of a niche like this when the work began, however I am more than pleased at the outcome.
No part of the house has been spared for if one area received a coat of paint, the other got a new set of curtains and the third some new piece of furniture. Thus I got to see that Sowparnika is refurbished and ready to welcome its long line of guests. I hope the workers will help me in meeting my deadline which is the 21st of August (as my Dad returns from the US on the 22nd). In the meantime I am left with just three days and there are a whole lot of loose ends to tie. I am expecting the liner today and am really hoping that he will keep his word. I need to go to Mat Bazaar and pick up some door mats and there are endless other chores to be fulfilled.
I was reminded of this saying in Tamizh, which when translated loosely means, “Try building a house, try getting your daughter married.” I had kind of rubbished this saying, with an attitude that both were simple tasks and the brouhaha was over nothing. After my experiences of the last six months, I realize that there can be no saying more accurate. If an inanimate object could bring about in me such a varied spectrum of emotions, I dare not think as to what my state would be when I have to execute the second half of the above saying. I fervently pray that I have the strength at that point of time.
In the meantime I invite all my friends to the revamped Sowparnika, which continues to exude the very same warmth.
P.S. Hope I have answered those friends who wondered loudly at my silence on the Blog front.

The Twins

They were brought home as triplets I guess. I use the word guess, because it could only have been that way. Looking back I have a faint memory of having seen them as triplets, but then I can never be too sure. However the fact is that today they are just two of them and have been so for at least three decades. Somewhere down the ages, I think one of them just called it a day. The twins are an enigma and I thought I should let the world know of their existence. The trouble is that I hardly have any details concerning them for the twins have been in my house for far too long. They precede me in the chronological order. The twins form and integral part of our daily lives. The sad thing however is that they don’t get to see each other unless when they are ceremoniously taken out for a mandatory cleaning. This cleanup happens once in a blue moon for there is absolutely no chance of them ever getting dirty. Thus they lead their individual lives conformed to their privacy and not knowing as to what the other twin is up to. This in a way upsets me, but at the same time I have no other choice for this is the only way in which I can ensure them their longevity.
I wonder as to how many of you would have guessed as to what my twins are. Well they are the two tea spoons, (if I may call them thus, for their scoops are deeper than the regular tea spoons) that are used to measure tea and sugar in the kitchen. The third I guess must have been in the coffee jar. I have no clue of how they made an entry into the house. If my memory is right, I remember my mother saying that they were already there in the kitchen when she came over as a bride. My Dad had an establishment with a cook while still a bachelor and I think the twins must have sneaked in at that point. I wonder if my Dad would be in a position to enlighten me of their origin since their entry must have happened over 55 years ago. Now when I try to recollect as to where my Dad would have been way back then, the instant answer that comes to my mind is Valparai, (a beautiful hill station in the Annamalai’s in Tamil Nadu). It was while he was there that he got married. The twins or rather the triplets may have been a part of his attempt at setting up a kitchen for his beautiful bride. While in Valparai his good friend was also the manager of The Spencer’s Departmental Store and thus my guess would be that he must have made his purchase from the said store. Now Spencer’s is by any standard an upmarket store and may have at that period of time stocked a whole lot of imported merchandise. Thus I deduce that my twins would have come of the supply line from some factory in Preston, Sheffield, Coventry or any of the metal manufacturing hubs of the Britain of the 40’s and 50’s. That makes them the longest serving foreigners in an otherwise traditional Indian kitchen.
I cannot describe these twins, but both of them would have been identical when they were manufactured. Now if you were to ask me as to what metal they are made off, I would definitely be at a loss. For one thing I am sure is that they are not made of the regular stainless steel nor are they made of pure silver. They are made of some alloy that has really stood the passage of time. Age has started showing on them for now they have a yellowish tinge as a result of their external coating having given way. I wonder as to whether electroplating will bring back their original appearance. However I dare not put them through any harsh treatment for fear of what it will do to their otherwise good health. People may say that it is not safe to use metal that is tarnished or without the protective coating, but to us at Sowparnika, we cannot think of a day when they are not around. For they hold the secret to our perfect brew.
Looking back I think it was indeed wonderful an idea to use them in the tea and sugar jars. This way they were not put to the daily grind of washing and scrubbing a process by which even the sturdiest of metals can give way. Had they been used in the day to day cooking process, the wear and tear and the reaction with food too would have bid them an early farewell. Whoever was responsible for their present position, I give them my thanks, for by their deed they have given me the opportunity to know the twins and the privilege of using them for almost all my life.
Today is one of those “Blue Moon Days” when the twins have had their ceremonial cleaning and it is truly a coincidence that I decided to write this piece. For the first time I gave them a thorough look and I was amazed to read with great difficulty as to what was written on them. Embossed on the back of the handle was the word “EVERLASTING”. I thought to myself as to how appropriate the word was. It almost seemed prophetic to me. Then I wondered if any of the present day manufacturers could dare to engrave a similar word. Finally I realised that the twins still have in them many more years of useful service and that they may be there to serve definitely the fourth and may be the fifth generation of the Variyath clan.
PS. Did my Dad make the purchase after reading what was written at the back? If that be the case, I take back my impression that men are hasty shoppers.

The Three Musketeers

South Africa, China, Angkor Wat, Prague and other East European countries, the list was endless and they were doing the rounds during our conversations as well as on cyberspace. It was hard to reach a consensus as each location had its own standing in our scheme of things, with some having been visited by one of us and few others being practically difficult. However, the only consensus was that a destination had to be chosen and that too at the earliest. Looking back I wonder if the destination was ever important, it was the idea that had gained fast momentum ever since it was pronounced by Latha a couple of years ago. What made it a mission possible was the support it received from the spouses and the kids. In our families it was the first time that such a holiday was being planned. That we lived in two different corners of the world just did not matter. Somehow everybody felt that it would take off and was just waiting for the right opportune.
In 2008 when Latha said that it was time we three sisters went on a holiday just by ourselves leaving behind the husbands and children, it was received with so much of thrill. It seemed as if she had thought of something very very novel. It seemed like a revelation, it opened the doors to so much of thinking, planning and discussion. Everyone who heard about it exclaimed as to what a wonderful idea it is. I don’t know of many people who have gone on such vacations but to me it felt that I belonged to a different league, planning something of which those around me were denied. Thus the destinations began doing the rounds, only to be heard and stored in the grey matter. The right opportune just did not seem to happen what with each family having other commitments with the children’s school and work schedules. The seed was however sown and the day dreaming did happen whenever it was given a thought. Two years almost went by when each of the families went on other vacations, biding time for the novel one.
That I would be in the US in the summer of 2010 was a commitment I had made to my niece Preetha way back in 2002. It was the year she would graduate from high school and she had wanted me to be there for her. I had given my word and with God’s grace, I could keep it. What made the graduation sweeter was the fact that she would be pursuing her under graduation at Harvard a revered institution for all and particularly for people from the sub continent. Thus my trip was planned and the dates were finalised. It was at this point that Latha announced that she had to attend a conference in San Antonio, Texas and that we could convert this to our special holiday. Before she could complete the sentence I grabbed at it. Logistically I knew that given our family make up this would be the best we could do. Geetha too gave her go ahead and thus Latha went about doing whatever had to be done to organise the trip. The dates were marked and the wait for a memorable holiday in the midst of a great vacation began.
12th May 2010 our trip began. Latha and I started off from Charleston and Geetha came from Orlando. From the moment we were dropped off at the airport by Preetha and Sridevi our holiday began. That we went back in years is undoubted, but that we could almost get back to our school days when it came to our behaviour was something I never imagined would happen. Right from the two hours wait at the airport before Geetha landed to every other small happening during the course of the four days spent there we were just the daughters of Bhaskara Menon and Leina Bhaskaran. That our combined ages reached a good 150 years (almost) just did not bother us. The only time we touched reality was the very brief phone calls we had with our families. I must at this point say that the families were so supportive that they never hassled us with the usual and mundane daily happenings.
Thus we enjoyed the quaint city of San Antonio, a city which is dominated by its one of a kind River Walk. That San Antonio is the sister city of our very own Chennai, made the city dearer to us. The Alamo a sacred memorial to the Independence War with Spain was treated with veneration. The establishments on the River Walk were visited and every meal was a Tex Mex treat. Thus quesadillas, nachos, burritos, fajitas satiated our epicurean taste buds and the wonderful Margaritas provided that fine tilt necessary to make a holiday from being great to becoming memorable. We went around sightseeing totally on foot. It seemed odd to hire a car as being in a youthful state of mind, the body seemed to act accordingly and thus all the nuts and bolts put up their best behaviour. That we screamed like kids while watching the 4 D movie at the Tower of Americas would be an understatement. The quaint shops of the Vilita Village were visited with so much of enthusiasm and the happening Market Square provided a wonderful treat. The Spanish Governor’s palace was a must see and at the old Cathedral we were the uninvited guest at a Spanish wedding. That one of us even walked around with an open bottle of beer made us feel like young swashbucklers.
We reminisced so much that names of friends and acquaintances of our childhood came flashing back and we even attempted to touch base with some of them. This was made possible thanks to Geetha’s iphone and the various social networking sites. Midnight calls were made to cousins far away only to take them back in time and to spread the happiness of our time together. A lot of time was spent in discussing and planning Dad’s 84th birthday in December. Although Preetha’s graduation was less than a week away, it did not get the pride of place, for we were daughters and siblings and not moms and aunts during those days. That Latha did attend some sessions of the conference was in itself an achievement.
The four days just rolled on and gave us so much of good times. I must say it rejuvenated our souls as well as our bodies. It made us determined that we need to do this more often. By God’s grace the three families get together at regular intervals, but having experienced this, we wanted many more in the same vein. We bid our good byes to Geetha at Atlanta airport (The flight from San Antonio to Atlanta was the first time that the three of us were together on an aircraft) on the 16th of May only to meet up with her on the 21st when she would come to Charleston with family for the graduation. Thus on that happy note we plunged back to “reality and our worlds”.
As a token of the trip I made my most expensive purchase, a pair of D&G sunglasses. It seemed so appropriate a purchase for here was something I would use daily in my sunny Chennai.

A Lesson

Today is the 16th of June and it is 7a.m. I am surprised to see Divya standing at the doorway that connects the kitchen with the work area and chatting up with Narayani waiting for her morning brew. There should be no reason for this element of surprise because this is a ritual that has been happening for the last three to four years. However today is different and if I should go by logic, this is not the place where Divya should be. She should be at home pampered and cajoled by her dear and near ones. Today is a special and a D day in her life. Tomorrow is her marriage and this evening the celebrations start with the mandatory reception.
Basically I am one who does not believe in a big fat marriage, but living in a society, I am pushed with the tide and hence have to give in to a lot of social pressures. However if I were given a choice, I would see to it that when my daughter Sridevi gets married, it will be a simple affair and that there is no element of pomp or show to it. The concession would be to make sure that the day remains special for her. Well those who know Sridevi will certainly vouch that she herself will make sure that she is treated like a princess when the time comes.
Divya is the eldest daughter of my help Kannagi. Kannagi has been with me for the last fifteen years and thus I know Divya for that long a time. I have seen her as a young child and have followed her progress through adolescence and youth. She is still young and going by present standards a bit too early for marriage. I wonder as to how much she is aware of the responsibilities of marriage and life in a joint family. For that matter I wonder what her exposure to the outside world is. Being a bit backward in studies, she was not at all enthusiastic to finish school and thus at the first opportunity decided to stay out and help her Mom perform the household chores. Kannagi, who is literally a single parent, tried her level best to get Divya to attend some kind of vocational training and thus improve herself. She worried that Divya would turn out like her. Although Kannagi is a school dropout, she never compromised when it came to her children’s education.
Divya is entering an important stage of her life, a stage for which most girls from the modern and upwardly mobile families would have planned for far too long. I have had the opportunity to watch at close quarters the preparations of marriage in my friends’ families. It always seemed so long and elaborate. As the years went by marriages became more complex with the introduction of many earlier unheard of functions and obligations. Clothes and jewellery became a style statement and many a time, it did not matter if the style suited the person in question. It seemed as if to maintain one’s status in society certain things had to be done. The brides themselves had their own agenda. Their demands seemed to increase with each passing year and appeasing them was in itself an ordeal. They made it look as if the lack of something small was a matter of life and death. They were treated like fragile Lladro dolls that would just disintegrate at a slightly forceful touch. In a nutshell I would say that being a bride meant that you belonged to an elite group of ethereal beings and every word you uttered was the gospel to be always obeyed.
Here was Divya coming on the eve of her marriage trying to help her Mom with the daily chores. Isn’t Divya entitled to her dreams? Where were her maids in waiting ready to obey her commands? How was Divya different from the other brides? The only difference that came to my mind and eye is the fact that she does not have the wealth to back her. However I don’t see as to how this wealth can help to make a marriage work. With the present trend for divorces being so high, can one’s wealth play the mediator when it comes to consolidating a marriage. My answer to this is that wealth can never play the cupid nor can it have an edge over the less fortunate. I have known of marriages withering in no time in affluent families. Considering all this I wonder as to why people go all out when it comes to spending on a marriage.
Does this make Divya a deprived or a less fortunate bride? My answer to that would be a definite no. Divya has had the final word when it came to her marriage. Mahesh is her childhood sweetheart, someone she has known for nearly a decade. It could be the confidence that she has in herself and in her feelings for him that made her look at her marriage as just any other day of her life. Or it could also be that she was plunging into matrimony with no expectations and illusions and hence may remain unscathed. Whatever the reason for her casual attitude, I hope she will be a winner all the way and wish her the very best. May be there is a lot to learn for most of us from the Divyas of the world. Having said that I feel that we Malayalis need to only look back a few decades when a wedding meant the gathering of both the families during the night and the acceptance of the “Podava” (clothing) by the bride from the groom. There was absolutely nothing ostentatious but the relationship that ensued was rock solid.
Thank you Divya for making me look back and see things in the right perspective.

Break

I will be away from Chennai for the next six weeks. Off to the US to be with my siblings and their families and too also attend my niece's graduation. Will try to keep in touch. Otherwise you can hear from me in June. Enjoy your vacation. Happy holidays!!!

A Sweet Mind Exposed

2 idlis with sambhar – 300, a ripe banana – 90, a glass of milk – 85, a serving of rice – 200, a cheese burger – 400, a gateaux - 250 and thus the list goes on. For every article of food that we consume can be tagged with a number. Now don’t mistake these numbers to be the cost of the said item. Although the price of commodities has rocketed, they are yet to reach this level. These values as some of you would have guessed are the calorific value of that particular food. For most people these numbers may not mean anything as they are simply not aware and can afford to stay ignorant. However for people like me these numbers form an integral part of my life. Without this awareness, I can simply say that my life would be catastrophic. I need to literally calculate and juggle with these numbers if I need to lead a healthy life. The reason for this being the fact that I can only take in a prescribed amount of calories - an amount that is deemed right for a healthy living. There is a definite no-no to the frills which others take for granted. I do not have the ability to produce as and when required the hormone which assists in the metabolism of the glucose present in these foods. This hormone is produced by a group of cells called the Islets of Langerhorn situated in the Pancreas. The hormone is none other than the one and only INSULIN. Yes I am a diabetic and thus the amount of insulin produced is less than what is required for the burning of all the calories I consume. I am forced to restrict myself to foods which are less in calories and at the same time have enough of fibres to give the satiated feel. Like most diabetics, the moment I see a heavy laden table, what comes first to my mind are a whole range of numbers. It is unlikely that I would notice things what others would like the presentation and quality of the preparation.
I think I can call myself a PRO at the juggling game for I have been doing it quite successfully for the last two decades. Yes it is unfortunate that I became a Diabetic early in life, however at that point, I wonder if I gave the condition, the importance it deserved. Even while being a Diabetic ‘green horn”, I had a great advantage on my side. I knew the calorific value of most foods. This was something I had learnt in college by virtue of having done my under graduation in Nutrition and Dietetics. When the course was thrust on me (I say thrust, because my ambitions were elsewhere), little did I realize as to how useful it would come in my later life. I knew exactly that sugars namely glucose was present in almost all foods that we consumed and not just in the additive that gave the sweet taste. Thus I knew that rice and all cereals were rich in sugars and that it had to be consumed in the right quantities. This did not mean that I never indulged for one of my weaknesses is the desserts namely pastries and puddings. However on consumption of the same, the guilt pangs were hard to ignore and this resulted in an extra round of walk or a slight reduction in the next intake of calories. As I mentioned earlier, meals became just calories and the names of foods just ceased to exist.
Many a time I cheated on myself by literally starving on the day before the blood test, for then the fasting sugar value would read the way I wanted it to. On days when the Post Prandial values were to be taken, I made sure that I cut down on my regular breakfast for I did not have the guts to see big numbers. However this technique was short lived, for soon came into my scheme of things the HbA1c test also called the Glycosated Haemoglobin Test. This test shows the average blood sugar value for the past three months and there was no way in which one could manipulate the same. The ideal value is 6 and anything up to 8 is considered decent for a Diabetic. To achieve this hard value, one had to really be good and follow things to the T. It also meant that the management of Diabetes was turning into a number game. The goal was always to achieve a value of 6, and for this goal, one had to just consume “X” calories. A little more was tolerated but a value of more than 8 called for stringent measures and an addition to the prescription cannot be avoided.
When you have Type 1 or Juvenile Diabetes, the only option you have is taking Insulin injections. Depending on the severity of the condition, the dosage and the strength of the Insulin varied. For a Type 2 Diabetic, the category into which I fall, Insulin is not required initially; however there are times in one’s life when Insulin has to be taken (pregnancy being one of it). I was advised a couple of years ago by my doctor to switch over to Insulin. The reason given was that Oral medication takes its toll on the kidney and other organs over a period of time, whereas the Insulin would just merge into the blood stream and do its work without leaving behind any residue. I mulled on this idea for over a year, for I did not want to be bracketed in the Insulin dependant group. However seeing that the magical 6 was way beyond my reach, I decided to succumb. It is well over three months since my initiation and time to take my next HbA1c. Anything up to 7 is welcome, but I have no clue as to what will be in store. Having made far too many trips in the last three months, I have been at the losing end of the number game on more than one occasion. With “X” plus calories in my system, I really wonder as to what the outcome would be.
I have come a long way in my understanding of Diabetes Mellitus. What started of as something that really did not bother me as long as I abstained from sweets and rich foods have progressed into a condition, where I have become my own nurse, technician and dietician all rolled into one. From the condition being a passive one, which can at times be forgotten, it has now become active for when the needle goes through my skin, there is no way I can ignore what I am endowed with. I wonder if the latest discovery namely the Insulin Inhaler will make me revert to the oral medication stage. If that be the case, it will only be the PEN for me.
In the mean time, I continue telling people that I am a sweet person when asked if I need sugar in my tea.

Cornerstone

On reading a news item in the papers, I went back in time to my days in Women’s Christian College, Chennai. It is not that I don’t think of my college otherwise for I am a member of the Alumnae committee and hence am in college ever y month for the meetings. What made me think of college now was the news that young Karun Chandok would be joining one of the F1 teams and would take part in the Formula One racing this year. The very fact that it is Karun Chandok, should have in itself brought about memories of college for his mother Chitra Chandok nee Thiagarajan is my class mate and some one I have known for the last so many years. But what really made me think of college was the way in which I connected the F1 racing to the bygone Sholavaram car races and the enthusiasm and impact the same aroused among the college students.
We grew up at a time when entertainment was bare minimum and opportunities to go out and have some wholesome fun were even more negligible. Apart from Mahabalipuram which was a day trip, there was nowhere nearby to go and thus the Sholavaram races presented the ideal situation for an outing. It goes without saying that many romances blossomed in this venue for the race drivers were a revered lot and the girls would be excited with just a sideways glance from them. I think to the college girls of that era, these drivers ranked high above any South Indian movie star what with the tinsel town being ruled by veterans like MGR and Shivaji.
Thus the two consecutive Mondays in February the buzz in college would be the races and as to whom among the glitterati were present. As such the talk of the races and attending the same were subjects that were taboo in college. It was an event which was off limit for the boarders but however most of them found ways to get out of the college premises. It is said that some of the college staff would attend the races just in order to make note of those boarders who had made their presence. Although nothing really serious came out of being seen, a showdown at the Principal’s office was certain. I have never had the opportunity to go for these races since I did not have any brothers nor was I acquainted with any boys. It required a lot of guts to be seen in the company of boys and at that point of time frankly I lacked that courage.
Sholavaram ruled the roost in the 60’s and 70’s. The participation both in the two and four wheeler categories were immense what with participants coming from all parts of the country and abroad including Sri Lanka and far off England. It was later on in the eighties that Sholavaram was deemed unfit and a new race track was made at Irungattukottai. The shift to the new venue coincided with my departure from India and thus I lost touch with the happenings there. However I am told that the charm which the condemned World War II air field of Sholavaram presented was not to be found in the more aristocratic new venue. You may wonder as to why I have brought in Sholavaram when the news item pertained to Karun Chandok. My reasoning goes on these lines - the three top motor car race drivers that India has so far produced are all off springs of the Sholavaram track.
Narain Karthikeyan is a name to reckon with when it comes to Formula Racing in India. He was the first person from the Indian sub continent to be selected by a Formula 1 team when in 2005 he was part of the Jordan team. Narain Karthikeyan had as his role model his father, a wonderful rally driver and winner of many awards in the seventies at Sholavaram. There is no enthusiast in this sporting field, who has not heard of his uncle Karivardhan whose passion it was to promote Car Racing in India. His premature death was a great loss to the sport. The next racing hero is Karun Chandok who it is said took to the sport like fish to water. How can it be otherwise for both his father and grandfather were veterans of the sport and have played an enormous role in the development of the same in India. It is said that his grandfather was one of the architects of the Sholavaram track. The third in the trinity is young Armaan Ebrahim who is yet to join the F1 league, but I am sure at the rate at which he is achieving, that day will not be far. It is a well known fact that his father was a very popular race driver at Sholavaram, having won many awards and that his father along with his grandfather has played a pivotal role in popularizing the sport in Tamilnadu/India.
Sholavaram is indeed the “Mullasthanam” (cornerstone) for Motor Sports in India and if and when India is ready to host the Formula 1 races, the only venue that can come to my mind is, well you have guessed it right!! This morning the papers say that the czar of F1 sporting namely Bernie Ecclestone has agreed to include India in the racing circuit as early as 2011. The venue is anybody’s guess, however I do sincerely hope that Ecclestone would have heard of Sholavaram and would deem it the right place. With big names like Vijay Mallya owning a F1 team and being in the fray, the stakes are high and thus I wonder what the chances for the World War II airfield would be. Mallya may be the proud owner of a team; however he too has had his initial glories in the rugged circuit of Sholavaram. Wonder if that would in any way tilt the balance. I know the final decision would depend on the economics, for Motor Sports is no different from other sports where the base line is business and the money it can bring in.
Where to hold the F1 may be something on which I cannot have a say, however there is this little something about the Racing Trio which cannot be prised from me. Karun’s mother is my classmate and as for Narain and Ermaan’s aunts, they are my good friends. This sets me wondering if the next prodigy in this sport will also be someone known to me and as to whether he/she will have a lineage to the good old cornerstone - Sholavaram.
P.S. Having called this article Cornerstone, I thought it a coincidence that the sport is controlled by EccleSTONE and that the Circuit in England is called SilverSTONE.

In Search of the Gangaa

“Hontton pe sachchaee rahatee hain, Jahan dil mein safaee rahatee hain,
Hum us desh ke waasee hain, jis desh mein GANGAA bahatee hain”
These lyrics by the Hindi poet Shailendra Chauhan, set to tune by none other than the musical genius duo of Shankar-Jaikishan was immortalized by the voice of Mukesh in the movie Jis Desh mein Gangaa Bahatee Hain. Roughly translated these lines would mean, “Where only truth prevails on the lips and where the heart is pure, we belong to that land and that is the land where the GANGA flows.” The song was a hit as it was meant to be what with Raj Kapoor and Padmini picturising the same. However for a young girl of four/five, this initial stanza of the song apart from the rhythmic tone did not have any impact but she did learn that there is a river Gangaa which flows through India. So even before the girl went to school and learnt her basic lessons, she had got to know an important aspect of the Geography of her land. As the years went by and when she knew a smattering of Hindi, she understood the meaning of the stanza and realized that GANGAA was synonymous with India. Later her knowledge increased and she began to understand what made the GANGA so important to India and its people. She came to know that the river is a boon to the country and that the alluvial soil deposited by the Gangaa and her tributaries contributed to making the Gangetic plain fertile and an agricultural belt. She also learnt that the Gangaa provides the main source of water to a sizable portion of the population and is also instrumental in providing electricity to vast areas. She is indeed a savior to the multitudes of humanity who lived along her banks. The girl learnt that as the Gangaa meandered and flowed into the Bay of Bengal, she along with her tributary the Brahmaputra formed one of the largest estuaries in the world and that she supported the mangroves of the Sunderbans which is the world’s biggest ecosystem and also the home to the Royal Bengal Tiger.
As the years went by and in keeping with her quest for knowledge and things spiritual, the girl who by then had become a woman, came to know of the important pilgrimage centres situated on the banks of the Gangaa, namely Haridwar, Allahabad, Varanasi and Gaya. She also learnt that Gangaa herself is considered a Goddess and that taking a dip in her waters is believed to cleanse the soul. Thus it was formed in her mind that to see and worship the Gangaa would indeed be equivalent to or more than a pilgrimage to the holiest of shrines in India. The first time she chanced on the Gangaa was in Kolkatta where she is in a meeker form and is known as the Hooghly. The trip was not conducive for a close interaction and thus it remained a sight like many others during that stay. The next interaction for the lady was when she went to Varanasi and Allahabad. Now a trip to Varanasi is a double whammy for a Hindu, for not only is the Gangaa omnipresent, but the city is also home to the holiest of Hindu shrines namely that of Kasi Viswanath. A trip to this oldest living city in the world is thus a dream come true for any Hindu. Anxious to see both the temple and the Gangaa at close quarters, the lady reached the banks of the Gangaa on the 31st of January 2010 at around 4 in the evening. The sight of the Gangaa that met her eye was not what she had imagined. She had hoped to see the majestic Gangaa in full flow but was truly disappointed to see a very run down version, what with half the river bed dry and home to cacti like bushes. The stories about the deterioration of the Gangaa that the lady had read and seen in various news media came flashing to her and like the thousands of her country men; she too felt a deep heaviness in her heart. The sad fate of the river was indeed hard to overlook.
In that somber mood, she climbed into the boat and began the much awaited ride. The guide like all guides the world over went on in full flow, at a speed much faster than that of the river. He was keen to exhibit his knowledge and the group on the boat was so naïve that they heard him out in awe. The boat passed by Ghats belonging to or built by rulers from various parts of the country and before long came to the famous Harischandra Ghat. The murmur in the boat came to a standstill for here was one of the two burning Ghats and sure enough there were a couple of bodies being cremated. It is rare for a Hindu woman to witness a pyre and here she was all of a sudden witnessing more than one. As it is considered sacred to have oneself cremated on the Ghats of the GANGAA and the ashes immersed in the river, many people go to Varanasi towards the end of their lives just so that they are cremated there. The stark reality that the scene brought about made the mood totally pensive, and reconfirmed the well known truth of how close life and death are. They are indeed two sides of the same coin. Gangaa was ready to accept the human ashes with dignified poignancy just as she was ready to accept the Arati.
Talking of the Arati to the Gangaa, well, it is one of the most beautiful sights in the world. This is done at dusk and lasts for about forty five minutes. The devotion with which it is performed is beyond comparison and the impression it leaves in one is mind boggling. The lady felt that she won’t be wrong if she stated that witnessing the Arati left a far more lasting impression than the Darshan of the Jyotirlingam of Kasi Viswanath. There is no doubt that a visit to the temple of Kasi Viswanath is in itself a wonderful experience and no words can describe the effect it has on one’s inner self. The fact that the Lingam can be touched and that the devotee could perform the Abhishekams made it extra special. With these once in a lifetime experiences and vivid images that she had gathered in Varanasi, the lady left for Allahabad.
Gangaa at Allahabad is joined by Yamuna and the mythical Saraswathi. The Triveni Sangam is another revered spot for any Hindu and the fact that one could be there is in itself considered sacred. The two visible “mahanadis” seemed to be a shadow of their earlier selves. The lady was truly crestfallen. How could the one billion people allow something that is symbolic of their country to reach such a dismal state? This question kept haunting her and she wondered as to how she could turn the table. Knowing that her generation would have to live with a Gangaa that is totally polluted (atleast in the plains), she decided that she would traverse upstream in the hope of seeing the river in its magnificence.
It won’t be long before she makes a trip to Haridwar and Gangotri in that order for her approach to the Gangaa so far has been in the reverse. Will it be wrong for her to wish that at Gangotri she will come across people with “Hontton pe sachchaee rahatee hain, Jahan dil mein safaee rahatee hain”.

Tryst with Nirvana

When did my day (16th February 2010) start or for that matter when did the previous day end? I don’t think I can differentiate between the two for I was living every moment of the happenings of the previous day over and over in my mind and was also excited about the happenings that would unfold during the day in question. Being a sound sleeper, the rocking movements of the train would normally have acted like the swinging of a cradle, however this time around it failed to induce in me the slumber I really enjoy. My brain like the rest of my body just refused to rest as it was tuned to experience and enjoy every moment of the 60 hours which began on February 15th and would end on February 17th 2010.
The morning of the 15th of February was indeed memorable, right from when I went to the temple before Rahu Kaalam and purchased my “MALA”, which I had sighted earlier to getting the same blessed at the feet of the Lord. Later, when I donned the MALA in my Pooja Room, it was indeed a feeling of being blessed. Although it was only a ‘thulasi mala” that went around my neck, the feel was one of having worn a sacred shield and the thought was that of being totally protected and in HIS care. The “KETTUNIRA” was indeed a wonderful experience and when I chanted the “SHARANAMS” I felt totally immersed in my piety. The trip to the station and the travel to our destination which was Kottayam was the routine part of the pilgrimage and there was no way in which it could have been shortened. However for me it was the last few hours in which I could mentally prepare myself for the imminent climb and Darshan.
We reached Kottayam on time and after the morning ablutions and bath at the station itself we embarked on our journey. The first stop was at Erumeli, where we worshipped at the shrine of Lord Ayyappa and being first time pilgrims should have performed the customary PETTAH THULLAL. (A kind of dance, the purpose of which I think is to lighten the otherwise solemn mood). The visit to the mosque of VAVAR was symbolic and then we proceeded to PAMPA, the base of the one and only Sabarimala. Although we passed through some very picturesque country, my mind did not take in the beauty for we were all immersed in singing the bhajans of the Lord. After wetting our feet and washing our face in the holy waters of the River Pampa, we proceeded to have a darshan of Lord Vinayaka the deity at Pampa. Seeking his blessings and breaking a coconut to ward of all impediments, the journey began.
It is hard for me to describe the ascent; however I will try my best to do so. I cannot call it easy for it is far from being easy for a fit youngster and thus for someone of my disposition and age it can be really grueling. However I will not be exaggerating when I say that I found the climb to be well within my ability. I did pant and sweat but was never in a state where I thought it impossible. The chanting of SHARANAMS enroute may have taken the intensity off to a small extent. When I reached “Sharamkuthi Allu” and was told that the climb was over and that we had reached the plateau, I could not believe my ears. Here I was prepared for much more to come and suddenly having achieved what I was so apprehensive about made me feel a tinge disappointed. The rest of the 3 kilometres was literally a cake walk and in no time we were in the precinct of the temple.
I may have seen various shots and clippings of the temple and its vicinity on television, for during the Mandalam – Makkaram season all the Malayalam channels beam these shots on a daily basis. However nothing prepared me for the actual sighting. The 18 sacred steps seemed to be almost like what I had imagined except that they were a bit narrower and steeper. The rest of the temple was at another level and to view the same I had to wait for the evening. Exactly at 5pm when the temple opened for the evening, I proceeded to the temple wearing my black sari and with the “Irumudi Kettu” on my head. For without the Kettu, one does not get to climb the 18 steps. Having climbed the steps, I entered the actual temple; however it took me another half an hour to get the Darshan of the Lord. The wait in the queue seemed never ending for having reached such close proximity; every minute seemed like an hour. After praying to the Lord for over 45 years the moment I had been waiting for was finally to arrive. I was well aware that my first Darshan would only be a fleeting one as the crowd had burgeoned and the push from the back would definitely make me move forward. With both hands trying to balance the Irumudi, it was a little difficult to maneouvre for some time and space. Finally when I got my turn to stand in front of the sanctum sanctorum, I was so focused that the only image that registered in my mind was the deity of the LORD. The deity was exactly as what I had imagined. HE was seated wearing his resplendent gold shield and the lamps were lit in such a manner as to bring out the golden glow. I don’t know if my eyes were playing some kind of trick for it did seem as if there was a pronounced halo. With that image set clearly in my mind’s eye, my first tryst ended.
My prayers were answered for immediately I got a chance to go to a closer spot at the Sanctum Sanctorum and could pray as well as notice all the nuances of the deity and the surroundings. The next couple of hours were spent in the temple and we made sure to go and pray to the other deities in the complex. We were lucky to witness a Padi Pooja (Pooja for the 18 steps) and remained in the temple complex till “Harivarasanam” was sung. This is the lullaby for the Lord and the version rendered at the temple is sung by Padma Bhushan K.J. Jesudas. Every moment of the 6 hours we spent in the temple complex was to me a new experience and I enjoyed it thoroughly. There seemed to be an air of equality and the atmosphere was far more liberal than what prevails in other temples of Kerala. When I turned in for the night, I was indeed sad that the day I had waited for all these years had come to an end.
The next morning we were back at the temple by 6am and after witnessing the “Nei Abhishekam” returned to the room and got ready for the trip down hill. The walk down hill was indeed hard what with my poor legs having to bear the weight of my body. By the time we reached PAMPA it seemed as if my legs had a mind of their own for they just refused to align with the rest of the body. The ride back to Kottayam was pensive for I was living through my just concluded experiences and was trying to assimilate the essence of the same.
The abode of the Lord is less than 3000 metres above sea level; however the sense of positivity and spiritual upliftment that envelops one during the pilgrimage is far beyond that. I would definitely term the impact as being magnetic for here I am like the crores of fellow devotees ready to go on my next trip. On summation, I would call this experience as a first time tryst with Nirvana.

A Reality Show

I love travelling and have had the privilege of seeing far too many destinations than what I can remember. Almost all of these trips have been enjoyable and have without doubt added to my personality in more ways than I can imagine. However when I have to talk of my just concluded trip I can only say that it was far beyond comparison with any of my earlier trips and that the experiences gathered covered a very wide spectrum. To start with, the planning for this trip began way back in July when it was announced that the 12th Triennial Conference of the Association of Inner Wheel Clubs in India would be held at VARANASI from the 29th to 31st of January 2010. This is the fourth triennial conference after I joined the Inner Wheel movement but some how I did not think it necessary to attend the earlier ones. This one was different by sheer virtue of its location. Varanasi drew me like a magnet in the same fashion as it has done the millions of believers and non believers earlier. Here before me lay the opportunity to visit the world’s oldest living city and in no way was I going to let this opportunity go by. My good friend Nandini was the person who mooted the idea and from then on the talk at any social or family gathering meandered to the impending Varanasi trip.
By virtue of owning a Travel Agency the onus was on me to make the arrangements for the trip. Thus right from the inception to the final itinerary was my baby and I went about doing it merrily. Everything fell into place by the end of October and there seemed to be no loopholes left to be plugged. I won’t be exaggerating when I say that I was so pleased with myself and at times felt smug like a cat that had just wiped off a bowl of cream. Although there were three months more for the trip, in my mind the count down had already begun.
Around the 15th of January, there was a shift in my mood thanks to the prevalent weather in New Delhi. Everyday saw me calling family or friends in Delhi and Varanasi to enquire about the weather and if I heard that it was sunny over there, I would have a golden glow in my demeanour too. The cat and mouse game with the fog began eating my nerves, and so finally around the 24th of January I decided that I am just going to let things take the natural course, for after all who am I to dictate to nature. Nevertheless I was the first to switch on the TV to watch the Republic Day Parade. I do enjoy watching the pomp and glory of all things Indian and this is one day when I am a little more proud of our uniformed forces. (My grandfather served in the Army and my Dad in the Police). This time around I had an ulterior motive and that was to gauge the intensity of the fog and sure enough, the fog did not disappoint me. 27th of January was no better and the news of the hay wire flight schedules was indeed a matter of concern. However I did manage a good night’s sleep.
28th of January was proclaimed as being a great day in Delhi with the fog having magically dispersed. On that happy note I set off from the house to be joined by 10 other ladies at the airport. Our flight was called and when we boarded it, we were truly relieved. However the relief was short lived, for as soon as we landed in Delhi, I had a call from the 12th member of the group informing me that the train would leave from Delhi only at 5am on the morning of the 29th. The fog had brought about a back log and there was nothing that could be done. Although we had an option to go to the comfort of a home and a good night’s sleep before taking the train, we decided against it and instead went straight to the railway station to see if there were any other options. Having mentally tuned ourselves to the worst scenario, we remained stoic and each one of us was prepared for the eventuality. The night of 28th January was not the best of days to visit the Delhi station. It was overcrowded with people sitting, standing, lying and in postures hard to describe. Being a ladies group, we were immediately surrounded by touts trying to play the role of good Samaritans. We stood out like sore thumbs in that situation and would have seemed to the touts as being easy targets. Little did they realize that we were women of substance whom it was difficult to hoodwink leave alone take for a ride.
We heard about another train which would touch Mughalsarai (18 kms from Varanasi) and decided to catch the same provided tickets were available in air conditioned coaches. The scheduled departure was at 12.50am. Since the current booking would only start less than 2 hrs before departure of the train, we had ample time to while away. We were lucky in that we were provided the office room of the RMS inspector where we could sit on chairs. The importance of the cell phone came to the fore that night, for calls were made left, right and centre and thus we came to know that AC three tier tickets were available for the said train. Finally Mala and I prompted by Nandini decided we would go to the booking counter and try our luck. The next half hour was indeed like a film set what with two South Indian ladies at almost midnight waiting to buy train tickets and with touts on all four sides passing comments in Hindi and dissuading us in every possible way. I was indeed so scared of opening my purse to take out the cash for fear of being robbed. However like the Hindi movie finale, good won over evil, for we not only got the said tickets but we also got them together in two adjacent bays. Triumphantly we walked to the rest of the group and for the next few minutes were treated like heroines or shall I say heroes, for I wonder if the men would have achieved what we did. The train left at 1.30am and our joy knew no bounds.
I will never call that night a night mare, for each time I think about it, what comes to the forefront is the good time we had cuddled together in the RMS room. Our sense of humour never failed us and indeed our feathers remained totally unruffled. Our perseverance saw us through for we were surely a determined lot. I think most of us grew up in more ways than one at the end of that experience. Being used to comfort and protection, this may have been the first time that we were exposed to such realities. It was almost as if we had come unscathed from a test by fire. With such a heady start to our trip, I was sure that the rest of the days would be as memorable.
P.S. My thanks to Jasodha, Ramalakshmi, Sucharita, Nandini, Meena, Haripriya, Mala, Rama, Vidya, Sunita and Kamala for simply being with me.