An Inspiring Story

I am at a loss for words when it comes to writing about our one and only Dominic. I can only say that he is so pivotal to our being and thus is an integral part of us. Although we had no role in his initial appearance, now we cannot imagine our lives without him. I always knew that when we plan something, it never works to plan, but on the other hand when things happen by accident, they become the perfect foil. A look at Dominic’s association with our family will make the latter seem so true.
When we began the construction of our house in 1983, Dominic was brought in by the contractor as a watch man. He was a young lad then and his job was to take care of all the building material stored in the venue. Since there was an existing building half demolished, he spent the nights there and managed his meals in the most rudimentary fashion. I would like to elaborate on his background. He has schooled only till the 5th standard and came from the village of Vedanthangal. This was his first exposure to the city and he had no clue of how to tackle life in Nungambakkam. While he was a watchman, I vividly remember him falling ill and his coming to see us with his head and body covered in fine red dust from the bricks stacked in the premises. He just seemed like the thousands of migrant workers who dot the various construction sites. At that point I never ever dreamt that he would have a future worthwhile. It seemed to me then that his life would also take the same uneventful course of the millions in India who come from similar background. How wrong I was to be proved and how glad I am about that.
Once the house was completed and his tenure with us over, he was asked to go to another site by the contractor. It was at that point that Dominic asserted himself and told the contractor that he would like to stay back. My parents were willing to have him, but they were not in need of a watchman. Thus my mother found him a job at a friend’s nursing home just a stone’s throw from the house and Dominic was retained. The association between the family and Dominic was symbiotic. He found a home in our house and we found a help, a watchman and a gardener in him. In short all I could say was that he became indispensable. Another relationship which nurtured at that point was between Dominic and my cousin Raju. Although Raju is a few years younger, they became good friends. This friendship almost took Dominic to another plane. He must have when he took the decision to stay behind with us decided to change his life style. Nungambakkam must have had its effect and he wanted to see himself in better light. Raju taught him all that he needed and thus Dominic learnt to speak and read basic English. He also began to follow sports including Cricket, Football and Tennis on television. During each of my trips to India, I could literally see the blossoming of Dominic.
In 1993 his marriage was fixed and after the same he moved to a place two streets from our house. However his association with us continued in the same manner and he made sure that he came over thrice a day, at morning, evening and night and anytime in between when he was needed. Just a phone call and Dominic was with us. His professional skill by then had gone up in leaps and bounds. He had started of as an errand boy at the Nursing Home, but his initiative and hard work saw him climb the ladder and in a few years time he had become an accomplished technician. Thus Dominic was the assistant at the Pathology Lab, as well as the X-Ray and ECG technician and a theatre assistant whenever required. He could perform these various roles with precision and panache. His knowledge too improved and he was up to date on all world happenings. He could decently carry out a conversation in English and it seemed as if nothing would miss his senses. When we heard good comments about him from our friends, we were indeed so proud. It was as if the accomplishments of one in the family were being praised. Coming to think of it, we cannot think of him as not being one of us.
Now Dominic is the father of two adorable daughters – Monica and Martina (I don’t have to tell you as to how those names came about) who are studying in the 11th and 7th grade respectively. In the mean time he continues in his role as a competent technician not in one but in two nursing homes. He has an additional responsibility in our house and that is taking care of our Prince. His day starts at 5 in the morning and ends at 10.30-11pm. He works hard and he strives to give his family a good living. Although he could have at any time asked us for help to make ends meet, he has never ever done so. He carries his responsibilities as if they were gifts from the Almighty and he carries them well. There is many a lesson for all of us to learn from him. I admire the way he runs his household. He meets the needs of his wife and children to the best of his abilities and he also makes the lives of those in his family comfortable. He is source of solace to many and is able to carry on in his grinding cycle with the most pleasant temperament. Our children are so fond of him and he plays with them as a youngster would do absolutely without any inhibition. Even in the most crucial moments of his life, he has been able to remain stoic. I wonder how he can do so, it could be his faith in his Gods, or it could be the respect for his elders or it could be the dedication to his work or it could be his gratefulness for what he has been blessed with.
Dominic continues his routine on his cycle and is a very popular figure in the Nungambakkam area. Much as we offered to get him a motor bike, he was against it for he feared he may not be able to afford the prohibitive fuel cost. There is many a thing that the youngsters of today have to learn from him. To me he is perfect role model to emulate and much more than that he is truly a blessing to Sowparnika (our home) - a place he has been associated with for the last 27 years.

Fly On The Wall

It goes without saying that I am a history buff. My trip to any place remains incomplete, if I have not seen sights that pertain to its history. This being the case, most of my holidays are planned to include places of historical importance. Of all the places I have visited, the one that has made me gawk and look up in awe is definitely Rome – The Eternal City. Almost every building had a story to tell and most of them have stood the test of time. The Roman Forum, Coliseum, Pantheon and of course the Vatican, were mind boggling. As for the catacombs which have been in existence for more than two thousand years, the feel was one of being spell bound. It was during that trip that I first felt as to how nice it would be if I could go back in time. Rome made me want to go back in time by two thousand years whereas each time I read the history of the city of my birth; it brings in me the urge to go back by a few hundred years. Chennai or Madras is a city founded by the British in the year 1639. Prior to the arrival of the British, Madras was a group of villages which were ruled by the kings of the Vijayanagar Kingdoms. I have never passed Fort St. George and the stretch of beach in front of it, without wondering as to how it must have been on August 22nd 1639 when Francis Day landed at that spot. The Luz Church which has been in existence from the year 1516 is another monument that always excites me. I have read and re read the tombstones which date back to that time frame. I have wondered as to how it must have been to those Portuguese sailors who landed at Mylapore on a stormy night and who were led by a divine light to the spot and where they deemed it fit to build a church. The latest in a long list of instances when I wanted to ride the time machine was on a holiday to the south of Tamilnadu namely Tranquebar or Tharangambadi in local lingo.
The name Tranquebar does have in it a sense of tranquility. Definitely the name must have been derived from the local name Tharangambadi which means the “singing waves”. It must be these singing waves that would have lured the Danes to lay anchor there. Tranquebar situated on the East Coast of India about 300kms south of Chennai was a Danish Settlement from the year 1620-1845. It was one among the half a dozen Danish settlements in India but it was also the most prominent. When India was the treasure trove and all the nations were plundering it, the Danes did not want to be left behind and thus Captain Ove Gjedde along with his men set foot on our soil at this very place. The King of Thanjavur was magnanimous and thus handed over the land for the settlement. The Captain set out on the first task which was to build a fort and thus Fort Dansborg was built as the Governor’s residence. The fort still stands good and can be seen from far. In fact the yellow colour of the fort shines like a golden structure on a bright sunny day and cannot be missed. Being away from the British and the French colonies on the East Coast, the Danes were not involved in the bickering that always took place between the English and the French. Tharangambadi has the distinction of being the centre for the Lutheran Movement in India. The first Protestant missionaries to set foot in India were two Lutherans from Germany, Bartholomäus Ziegenbalg and Heinrich Pluetschau, who began work in 1705 in this settlement. They translated the Bible into the local Tamil language, and afterwards into Hindustani. Tranquebar also has the distinction of having one of the earliest printing presses in India. It was from here that the Bibles were printed and sent to the rest of the country. Thus this miniscule place on the map of the country has played a very significant role in its history.
Most of this I had read prior to my visit to Tranquebar. I was keen to remember as to when I first heard about Tranquebar and realized that it was in the early 80’s when we had bought the plot of land to build our present house. Two houses down the road was a Boys’ Home and this was run by the Danish Lutheran Mission. I was curious to see the name Danish and on reading the board, I came to know that the mission was head quartered in Tranquebar. This came as a real revelation for me. The only colony to my knowledge which the Danes possessed was Greenland. I had not known of them as sea farers who came as far as the East Coast of India to colonize. The information was immediately stored in my grey matter. Recently, I met a gentleman who works for the Lutheran Church and is in India to oversee the fund distribution to their various projects. He told me in detail the importance of Tranquebar as far as the Lutheran church went. He also mentioned that most of the help provided by the mission was for work in and around Tranquebar. This information helped to resurface the little I knew about the place and thus when an opportunity came my way, I decided to include Tranquebar as part of the trip.
Tharangambadi cannot boast of a European design or architecture. It is a small town with a reasonably broad road which is flanked by buildings most of which are churches or other religious buildings. Some of the old buildings that have survived have an imprint of the colonial era. The main attraction is the fort. It is considerably smaller than the various other forts that I have come across. However it is very well preserved and is definitely a beauty. Sitting on its rampart and looking at the sea would turn anyone into a litterateur. I must say that I thoroughly enjoyed the walk of the fort and of the storehouses on the ground floor. The fort also houses a small museum which showcased coins and other articles of that period. We had our lunch at the restaurant called Bungalow on the Beach, which I learnt was the living quarters of the British Governor. In 1845 after the Napoleanic War in Europe, the Danes sold all their holdings in India to the British and thus from 1845 – 1947, the place was ruled by the British. The Bungalow has been tastefully restored to its old glory. The Danish governor’s Bungalow which is older is being renovated now.
I enjoyed the couple of hours I spent there and I relished the exotic sea food that I had for lunch. However I had a hundred questions which I wanted answered. First and foremost I was keen to know as to why the Danes did not expand their territorial hold. Since they had a lead over the British in terms of their arrival to India, why did they not utilize this advantage? Were they keen on respecting the agreement with the local rulers? Were their intentions only to get a foothold in the country for purposes of trade or was there a religious connotation to it? At that moment, I really wished I could go back in time and thus get the answers to all my queries. Oh how I wish I could have in these instances at least been the FLY ON THE WALL.

On Higher Strata

I fully agree that life is full of coincidences; however I was not prepared for the one that happened to me recently. I enjoy reading fiction and I have a set of authors, whose works I try never to miss. Jeffrey Archer belongs to that genre and I am on to his latest novel “The Paths of Glory”. The protagonist of the novel is a mountaineer and the story I believe is loosely based on the life of Sir Edmund Hillary, the first white man to conquer Chomolungma the Tibetan name for Mt. Everest. The novel was a sure page turner and I got immersed in the character of the hero George Mallory whose mission in life was to only conquer heights both natural and man made. This was the first time that I was reading about man’s passion for heights and his pursuit of the same. Since Jeffrey Archer is a writer who can span the divide between fiction and real life with accuracy and authenticity, the novel gave an insight into the travails, sacrifices and happiness that makes up the life of a mountaineer. I wanted to know more and hence was determined to move from fiction to real life and read the Biography of a mountaineer.
Little did I realize then that I would within a fortnight be meeting a mountaineer/summiteer in flesh and blood. This truly seemed a coincidence for a mountaineer does not belong to that category of people whom we meet on a daily basis. He or she belongs to an exclusive club by virtue of there being very few pursuers and achievers. The person I met belonged to the elite of the group for he had just climbed a peak which stood above the 8000 metres mark. The number of peaks belonging to this group is few and almost all of them are situated in the Himalayan Range. His latest in a string of achievements was reaching the summit of Cho Oyu 8201m-the sixth highest peak. This I learnt was a prelude to the Mt. Everest expedition which he proposes to undertake in March/April of 2010.
So here was Sandhosh all of 28 set to conquer the highest peak on Earth and I for one was baffled. I had known him as the son of a friend and had earlier met him while he was pursuing his engineering at NUS in Singapore. He seemed then like all lads of his age, with the usual interests. Here I was seeing him in a different light. He had achieved something which the majority of us could not even dream off. He had beyond doubt become a hero. I had a thousand questions to ask him and considered this a godsend opportunity. My age came as an advantage, for I cornered Sandhosh with a barrage of intelligent/stupid questions, and he answered all of them patiently.
I came to know that his introduction to heights was through trekking a pass time he undertook while holidaying in Indonesia. He told me as to how he had no clue about the physical fitness level required for climbing and as to how once he started enjoying his treks/climbs, he decided to tone his body and mind. He told me all about the faux pas of his initial climbs, as to how he was caught on the mountains poorly clad and of the various stumbling blocks he had to overcome before claiming any success. Once he had decided to pursue it as a hobby, he realized the cost involved as the gears used were world class and each expedition was undertaken under the expertise of an established company and a substantial amount had to be paid to them for their guidance and groundwork. He told me that his job in the United Kingdom helped him meet with most of these expenses. Being posted in the UK also made it convenient for him to access the Alps and thus he has to his credit Mont Blanc (4410mts) and other lesser peaks. He also told me that once the urge had set in, there was no looking back and that he did not miss out on any given opportunity or to put it better, he made sure that he was always presented with an opportunity. He enlightened me on his achievements and I came to learn that he had reached the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro (5895 m), Mount Kota Kinabalu (4095m) and of course his most recent summit Cho Oyu at 8201m. No mean achievement considering that all this has been done in a span of eighteen months.
I learnt from him as to how the group works. He told me that there was always a leader who would have done the peak earlier and that the group normally consisted of 6-7 climbers and an equal number of Sherpas. He told me of how a base camp is set up at a height of 5000m and as to how there are three other camps set of at different levels. It amazed me to learn that the requirements are first carried from the base to the various camps in the order of their heights. He said that the climb from the base to Camps 1, 2 and 3 in that order was more like a reconnaissance mission. He told me as to how there was one Sherpa who played the role of a cook and as to how he made something special at the end of each of their climbs. I was impressed to see the pictures of the food available at the base camp. The climb to the three camps before the final push was also a test in endurance and physical fitness. I learnt a lot that day which also included trivial things taken for granted in most instances like the shower arrangement at the base camp, the special stove that would burn at 5000m and above, the time taken for water to boil and of the first aid available.
The Cho Oyu summit was a must for Sandhosh for without it he would not have been included in the Everest expedition for it is mandatory by the professionals guiding the Everest expedition that the participant have to his credit a summit over 8000m. I was told that the final push is always done at night because the snow is hardest then. Thus he reached the peak of Cho Oyu at around 4 am in total darkness only surrounded by the white expanses of snow. That must have truly been an awesome sight. He told me as to how his camera froze at that height and that he was dependent on his coclimber who had a camera for the weather to take the pictures. I must have seen at least 200 pictures of the expedition. This definitely gave me an idea as to how a mission of this magnitude operated.
I wish Sandhosh the very best for his Mt. Everest expedition. What makes it special is the fact that he is doing the climb for Awareness of Child Abuse and plans to leave behind on the peak a special banner relating to the cause. I wish him all success in his future endeavours, which also includes the Seven Summits. I see in him that burning light which I hope will continue to burn and blaze. I wish to see his name splashed in the papers and I wish to see him recognized as the best in his field. When all these recognitions are his, may be I can sit back and say that the little I know about reaching a summit is whatever I learnt from the master.

The Spectacular Jewel

Who am I to write about this Edifice? But then if I don’t write, I will not be doing justice to my latest passion which is to put pen on paper or as per the modern parlance, to run my fingers over the key board. The urge to write is so intense that I have decided to shelve my ignorance and to go ahead. The Edifice I am talking about is the Brihadeeswarar Temple which is better known as the Big Temple of Thanjavur. I have had the opportunity to visit this marvel in 1977 when my father was transferred there for a brief period. That trip in 1977 was the first holiday that we had had as a family and it was also the first sight seeing trip for all of us. Thanjavur was the first halt in a long list of places which we visited during that trip and the Big Temple was the first site we saw. That being the sequence of events, The Temple held a special place in my heart.
The fact that it dominated the skyline and stood as a silent sentinel just made it awesome. Not having studied the history of the Cholas or for that matter of any of the Southern kings of the earlier centuries, I visited the temple in total ignorance. The little I learnt about the place was from my father who having been in Thanjavur for the preceding couple of months, had picked up from hear say. Thus I was told of the 80 ton single piece of granite that was placed on top of the Gopuram with the help of no machines and just by the perseverance of man. I had looked up to the heavens to see this monolith perched high above. Until then the only Gopurams I had seen were the much painted and ordained ones of the Kapaleeswarar and the Parthasarathy Temples, both contemporaries of the Big Temple. However it could be the colour of the stone or the natural finish that made the one at Thanjavur stand apart. This also gave it a rugged feel, a feel of raw and unbridled strength. I also got to see the magnificent Nandi that graced the courtyard of the temple. It was carved from a single piece of granite which had been brought from far. These points were noted and stored in one of the crevices of the grey matter, only to resurface in the most unimaginable surrounding. Why I call it unimaginable is because the next time that I heard the Big Temple being discussed in detail was in a programme on National Geographic Channel, and this I got to view while on a holiday in the picturesque Island of Bintan, Indonesia. I viewed the whole programme with utmost interest and learnt many of the salient features of the temple and also about the great King Raja Raja Chola who built this edifice. He did not stop at that, but also got together a Navy which went far and wide and conquered lands including some of the islands of Indonesia. This was an achievement without any parallel in the 10th Century AD. He was also instrumental in spreading Hinduism in the lands he conquered. If the world has an Angkor Wat, I believe that the seeds were sown by King Raja Raja Chola. It is indeed strange and coincidental that I had to learn about him while I was in Indonesia.
Last week saw me visit Thanjavur for the second time. The only reason for Thanjavur to be included in the trip which was otherwise a mini pilgrimage was to show my family The Big Temple. On arriving there, I realized that I had forgotten almost everything about the place. The only thing that was vivid in my mind’s eye was the temple. There was an urge to revisit the citadel,(it truly is one, what with a moat all around and enough place for the local population of the 10th Century to take refuge) however at the same time, I was afraid that I may be in for a shock. The reason for saying this is because, many a time it happens that what impresses one as a youngster, may not have the same effect later on in life. As I mentioned earlier, Brihadeeswarar temple was the first site I saw in my first site seeing trip and thus the impression I carried was exaggerated a thousand times. In the last 32 years I have travelled and have had the privilege to see some of the Wonders of the World and thus I wondered if the Temple still had the magic to bring in me the emotions which I experienced during my first visit. Also I had spoken so much about it to my family and friends that I did not want to disappoint them.
The moment we entered the UNESCO World Heritage Site, all my apprehensions just disappeared and once again I was a naïve person totally mesmerized by the glory of the past. I won’t be wrong if I say that I enjoyed the site far better the second time around having acquired some background knowledge of the place. Right from the imposing entrance to the cavernous and magnificent courtyards to the heavenly gopurams to the gigantic Nandi to the symmetric corridors and finally to the mammoth Lingam everything was perfect and just the way I remembered. This time around I had with me a camera with which I could capture some of the physical aspects of the place for posterity. I really wished there was a way by which I could carry with me the majestic essence of the place and also the sense of history that pervades the air.
How glad am I that I made the trip. It not only rejuvenated the first impressions but also proved that the second impression can be even better. Here was something that had weathered nature’s fury and man’s destructive nature and still managed to remain almost unscathed. Even after 1000 years, it exudes a magical power which forces even the mightiest among the mighty to cow down with respect. I came out feeling totally awestruck and apart from uttering the Lord's name, wondered for how many more centuries this Spectacular Jewel of the Chola Crown would continue to amaze and enthrall mankind.

Celebrating A Life

The moment we hear the word death, our minds are conjured up with thoughts of bereavement, sadness and grief. However when a person has led a full life and he or she dies of old age, then the grief becomes momentous and what replaces this grief is a cheerful journey down the well travelled road of the deceased. There is no doubt that the person will be missed, however to me it is a time to recollect and remember the milestones and immortal moments of the mortal being and thus indirectly celebrate that life. It is also the time to offer our thanksgiving both to the almighty for bringing into our lives the said person and also to the mortal soul for being a part of our lives and for all the positive energy he radiated during his tenure on Earth.
I just returned from Kerala after a condolence visit. The person who died was my good friend Sarah’s father – Rtd. Lt. Cdr. W. C. John. He was 86 years old and had led a full life on his very own terms. Much as I wanted to attend his funeral, I was unable to do so. However having seen him twice earlier this year, I had good memories of him and thus thought it not necessary to see the mortal remains before the burial. Another reason why I delayed my visit was because I wanted to spend the time with the family and wanted to reminisce on the wonderful life that Uncle John had led and this would not have been possible had I gone in the midst of the funeral.
I spent two whole days with Aunty, Sarah and her brother Roy. It seemed like the old days when we were children/young adults with no families of our own and no care in the world. I was taken back in time to the late 60’s when I first came to know the family. Sarah joined our school in the 4th standard and instantaneously we became friends. It did not take long before our friendship spread to the families and thus we became family friends. Living in the vicinity our families saw a lot of each other and this strengthened the bond. I vividly remember Uncle in his white naval uniform, so crisp and starched and as to how dashing he looked driving his white Herald car. Unlike the other cars of that period the Herald had a style of its own. I remember Uncle taking us to see the only aircraft carrier of the Indian Naval Fleet, the INS Vikrant. He also took us to see an American war ship and even now I remember the jelly I ate from there. These visits were lessons which no text book ever taught. It meant a lot to a young girl. Uncle almost seemed like a hero.
Indeed he was a true hero having joined the Imperial Navy at a tender age of 16 as a young sailor with absolutely no clue as to what the world offered. Having come from a village in Kerala, he had not seen the outside world. His grit and determination saw him rise quickly and it was not long before he was sent to England for training. He was a self made man who came up the hard and tough way. His penchant for punctuality and perfection was very well known and it really needed guts to face him for a delayed appointment. I have had the joy of staying with the family when Uncle was posted in Cochin and was witness to one of the official parties he hosted in his residence. I won’t be wrong if I say that I have never ever seen brass more polished nor have I seen cutlery more shining and glasses more sparkling. The house was immaculate and the whole event was planned and executed like the preparation for battle. What I mean to say is that every tiny detail was taken into account and no leaf was left unturned. I had never seen anything like this before and I was truly impressed. I won’t be wrong if I say that that party kind of set a standard in my mind. Although I have not been able to maintain the high levels I saw that day, I do try and see that I put up an overall good presentation when I invite guests to the house.
Uncle followed the benchmark he had set for himself all through his life. He tried his best to impart to those who came to his life the importance of godliness, kindness, love, affection and all the virtues with which he was bestowed. His last official posting was as a NCC commandant and this post saw him in his elements as he could mould the lives of the young boys and girls who joined the Corps. With his son employed and daughter married, it seemed to him that the right thing to do was to get back to his roots and this saw him settle down in Malappally in Pathannamthitta District of Kerala. He had his aged parents to look after and he did everything in his means to make their old age comfortable. To him being of help to others was topmost in his priorities and this was a quality he wanted to imbibe in those around him. Thus he was instrumental in starting the Rotary Club of Malappally.
He fought every illness that came his way and did not slow down until it was absolutely beyond his control. He had had three heart attacks and in the year 2000 was diagnosed with malignancy of the colon and had to undergo a colostomy. The doctors had given him only a few months or maximum a couple of years to live, but he lived and lived well for over nine years. Uncle believed that life was a gift from the Almighty and he did whatever it took to relish and enjoy it. The heart which became weak having suffered three attacks, had to pull itself together to keep pace with the dynamic body in which it was housed. In Uncle’s scheme of things, there was no question of it giving way. Thus all his illnesses had to give way to the mighty juggernaut that he was.
The two times I met him this year, was once in March when he came to Chennai for his younger brother’s funeral. Although his body was weak, and he was in not in the best of health, he had insisted being there for the funeral, for his brother being much younger than him was almost like his eldest son. I am happy that I could be of help to him as he stayed with me for three days. I knew then that the light within him was slowly fading and that he was moving to the twilight zone. I was blessed to see him once more in April when I went to Hyderabad to attend his grand daughter’s marriage. No other human being with the prevalent health condition would have dared that journey, but not Uncle John, who was so definite about being there. As a memento of that happy occasion, he gifted me with a silk sari, a gift that I will treasure for the rest of my life.
There is much more than that sari for me to treasure. His life was astounding and a role model for all to emulate. His life was one which truly calls for a celebration. Thus it was in that celebrating mood that I spent the two days with the family. We did everything that would have made Uncle happy. As much as we prayed for his soul, we also toasted his life. This is something not possible in most cases. But then this is Uncle John’s life and it had to definitely be different.
Long live Uncle John!!!

Tsunami in a Tea Cup

Ever since our Finance Minister came up with the idea of the austerity drive, there has been enough and more fodder for the print and electronic media. This has in turn produced free entertainment for the reader/viewer and has become the butt for so many jokes. I really wonder if the honourable minister had any clue as to what kind of hornets nest he was stirring. He had only hoped that the extravagant spending culture of our netas would be curtailed thus reducing the strain on the otherwise stretched exchequer. The tamasha began when the said minister travelled in the economy class of an airline from Delhi to Kolkatta. The minister must have done it in all sincerity being a man who believes in simple living and high thinking. However having stirred the otherwise placid waters, it was inevitable that a tsunami followed.
I am sure there were no compulsions from the high command, but then our shrewd ministers must have realised that when the number 2 in the cabinet can make do with economy class travel, they too had to do their bit to earn the said brownie points. Thus the next minister namely the Food and Agriculture Minister decided that he should lead by example and this saw him take another economy class flight from Mumbai to Delhi. He went a step further to issue a statement saying that he would have only travelled economy class but for his big frame. Now what I would like to know is as to how his frame shrunk in a couple of days so as to enable him to travel economy class. The third to do so was the big boss herself. This act of hers sealed the choices for the entire Indian National Congress ministers and Members of Parliament. How could anyone even think of travelling in Business class anymore? Overnight, this class became the pariah much to the chagrin of the airlines whose main source of income came from this category of travelers.
The prince in waiting went a step further and decided that the chair car of the Shatabdi Express was good enough for him to travel. Thus he covered Delhi –Ludhiana-Delhi by train much to the delight of the press and his followers. This provided the right moments for the perfect picture pose as well as a chance to deify the otherwise highly spoken of “youth leader” and strategist. I wonder as to how much of planning would have gone into that short train ride. The security and the railways would have been on tenterhooks till the said journey was over. When this topic came up for discussion in our midst on the very same day, I mentioned that henceforth ordinary citizens could be assured of better service in the trains and on economy class. A friend of mine had another take. She felt that by travelling with such VVIP’s, we were putting our lives in stake. She felt that if the terrorists had the VVIP’s in mind, we too would perish along. How right her words seemed when the same evening the said Shatabdi Express was stoned by miscreants. Would the cost of the repair to the bogies be part of the austerity?
Thus every leader who has a public standing is trying to do his bit to prove to the world that he is an austere person. The funny thing is that most of them may have not even heard about the word until the Finance Minister’s remark and thus are oblivious to its meaning which is rigorously self-disciplined and severely moral; ascetic; abstinent; grave; sober; solemn and serious. Would travelling in economy class change our leaders and make them austere? Is there one leader in this country who fits any aspect of this meaning for austere? Our Prime Minister may be the closest we have to fit the bill, but being the head of the country he has to maintain his status and dignity and thus his life is too precious to be wasted in a chair car ride. Apart from October 2nd and January 30th of every year, we hardly hear the name of the Father of the Nation being mentioned, however with this austerity drive, words like “Gandhian” seem to make it in print. The world respected Gandiji for his austerity and was willing to accept him as “the half naked fakir”. Since our present day leaders lack the austerity otherwise, I do hope that better sense will prevail and that they will not try and emulate him on the dressing front!!

To every flip there is a flop and in this case that has been brought about by the savviest of the ministers in the cabinet. When he was asked to move to humble dwellings from the five star hotel in which he had been staying, he was not a happy man at all. He felt he needed his privacy and his gym. He was vociferous in his protest and thus every follower of his tweets got to know of how exactly he felt. The powers to be let him off for the simple reason that he had paid the bills which mounted to Rs. 40,000/- daily from his own pocket. The said minister has been in the said hotel for three months and thus has spent approximately Rs. 36,00,000/- (take a few lakhs for the days when he is not in the capital) on his stay in the capital. There cannot be a bigger embarrassment than this for the government. Our country ranks 142th in the world when it comes to the per capita income which is less than Rs. 50,000/- annually. The straw that broke the camel’s neck was when the same minister again tweeted that he considers travelling in economy class as being part of a cattle herd. The cattle herd the minister is talking of is the privileged less than 10% of the population who can afford air travel. How did this man ever get to be the minister when he even considers travelling with a privileged group of citizens as being demeaning? Does the fact that he has the money make him in a class of his own? The moneyed class should remain the moneyed class and not enter into the job of serving the people and become politicians. I am at times made to feel that this minister has said in the open what others have had difficulty to pronounce for fears known/unknown. In that manner I appreciate the Minister for his truthfulness. Politics to this elitist may be just an additional feather to his otherwise plumed crown and austerity far from his last thought.

I really wonder what the final outcome of the Finance Minister’s drive is going to be. As I see it nothing will ever change. Austerity would be for that majority of our population who cannot afford the materialistic luxuries. Much as we live in a democracy and have a government which is “of the people, by the people and for the people” and which proclaims “Satyameva Jayathe”, our leaders will remain ignorant of these basics and the tsunami will be curtailed to just the tea cup.

Golden Girls

As with most people, I too have my friends in groups. These groups range from my school friends to college friends to Middle East friends to Inner Wheel friends to Family friends and finally the group about which I am going to write today. All the above mentioned groups have featured in my blogs in some way or the other. The group about which I am about to write has somehow slipped the net and the reason could well be because I get to meet them only once a month. For that matter, some of the other groups I rarely get to meet these days. But what puts them at top priority in my memory bank could well be the proximity I enjoyed while those friendships were forged. The monthly meeting with this group is a joyful one. We meet, we greet, we interact, we eat, we deliberate and finally we exit. It may sound clinical in print, but I can assure you that it is far from that. There is a large dose of bon homie and camaraderie. This meeting is a great stress buster apart from being a forum to share the latest in the world of music, movies, fashion, people and last but not the least the main element that binds women together – GOSSIP. I must elaborate on the kind of gossip as I don’t want the reader to think of us as run of the mill characters. Our kind of gossip is not one that would hurt a friend or family but mainly consists of the inside knowledge available with regard to some interesting headline news. We consider ourselves different and would love the world to accept us that way.
In few hours from now, I would be meeting this group. I have been associated with them for the last 12 years however I must say that there is a lot about their family and background of which I am not aware. Here we meet as individuals with no strings attached. The two characteristics of our group is that we are all from Kerala and the second and most important is that we belong to the Golden Age of 50years and there about. These two characteristics make it wonderfully easy for us to vibe. I wonder as to how many of you have guessed the identity of my group. For those who have not, well I am talking of my kitty group. The kitty culture is nothing new as it has been an important instrument in the socializing network in India. I guess in its early stages, it must have started among the upper class women as the time relegated for playing cards or for simply having a coffee morning. Somewhere down the line the element of a kitty was added and this I’m sure must have given the event the required commitment. As the years went by the kitty party culture began to percolate and became a part of the burgeoning urban middle class.
The first time that I was associated with a kitty group was in Jeddah where my good friend and neighbor Usha put me on to the kitty of which she was a part. That kitty was different from the ones in India for the simple reason that it involved the whole family. One reason for this could be due to the immobility of women in Saudi Arabia in the early 90’s. After my return to India, my friend Latha Mohan set about planning a group to which she graciously invited me. She must have chosen the members with care, for we hit it off pretty well from the word go. The original group has seen many mutations what with people having to leave Chennai or moving away for personal reasons/commitments. Our present group consists of eleven members. We do not want to increase the number for the simple reason that a cycle finishes in one year as May is taken as the annual holiday for the kitty. The only rule that we follow in our kitty is that we meet for lunch. All of us being food connoisseurs, food does play an important part and I must say that we enjoy feasting on a well laden table. The venue of the kitty is left to the discretion of the host and thus can be at their respective houses or at a restaurant of their choice. Most restaurants in Chennai owe it to the kitty groups for their lunch business during the week. 75% of the lunch crowd at most of the restaurants is made up of women belonging to the various kitties. Some of these restaurants even offer deals to the all women groups. Being good homemakers we scout for the best deals and thus get to visit many of the new eateries and at times even make it to pubs were they serve a good pub meal.
The real kitty of the kitty is not a big sum, however it does make us ladies happy as it is more than sufficient to see us through some good shopping sprees. Also it is that part of the kitty which makes the experience wholesome. With women’s groups making a foray into the world of travel, my kitty members too do not want to be left behind. Thus I have been entrusted the job of finding the ideal destination for a 2/3 day break. If it happens, I am sure it will be one of the most memorable holidays that I have ever had.
The kitty groups remind me of the Hen parties of the west, of which I have read and have also seen during my travels. The ladies in those groups were so enthusiastic and seemed to enjoy as if there was no tomorrow. Being part of the kitty makes the two to three hours spent together work as an antidote to the otherwise mundane goings on and the mood at the end of a session is truly one of elation. My only sense of regret is that with most young girls seriously pursuing a career, it won’t be long before the kitties become a thing of the past. I wonder how we can save it for posterity for like us I wish for the future generations to enjoy and be the GOLDEN GIRLS that we are.