Relatives, friends etc.

In 29th pAsuram of ThirumAlai, the Lord asks whether the AlzvAr had relatives or friends in divya desam, to which the AlzvAr replied, "uravu maTTroruvar illai" i.e. he had no relatives or friends living in any divya desam. "maTTroruvar" as per Periyavaccan Pillai means "exchange of eye glances with other bhaktaas in the Kovil". The modern interpretation would admit a wider interpretation whether - you are in contact with other bhaktAs over whatsapp or facebook? If yes, the Lord can think of doing something. So, even if we have no house, relatives, friends in divya desam and do not visit Kovil, we should be in some group of aastikaas which discusses glories of Lord. The question to the self should be - are we in such groups. We are only busy in forwarding crass jokes, baseless rumors and posting self-glories.

Ideal tenants

Read a funny ad in the newspaper…or, no! The source was the maid who brings across much more entertaining news…gossips of our neighbors with whom we are more connected, of course, through the maid only. This particular item was more of a news rather than gossip; a news which only amazed me to think, “to what extant folks go out to kill old age”. One Mrs. P, wishing to rent her 2 BKH plush flat laid out the following conditions: 1. Husband should be working; 2. wife also should be working; 3. preferably no kids; 4. or only one kid; and 5. no parents. After all, the flat, built from Dirham, was much dearer to Mrs. P which had made her to deposit consign her mother-in-law to a home; the expectations from the tenant was to maintain the flat and send the parents to a home for old people spoil the wall…floors…entire flat. It is because of such Mrs. P that the demand for play school, day school and homes for parents have gone up. We are only growing attached to things and using our parents. The icing on the cake – the maid announced one more condition: 6. tenant to appoint her as the maid – this gives comfort factor to Mrs. P that her maid continues to keeps her flat neat and tidy and fills her up with gossips about the tenant. Death is our final destination and yet we, humans, run far from it by abdicating our responsibility which we owe to our parents. Mrs. P and her club members may be reeling under the notion that they are immortal. But… “Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.” ― William Shakespeare, As You Like It I only wish the likes of Mrs. P that they reach the last stage to reap the fruits that they have sown.

Hit

It was the familiar hunting spot and I noticed the pair with tinge of blue slowly moving in circles as if dancing…celebrating their love; this was despite being doused with lethal dosage of Tetramethrin, Cypermethrin and Imiprothrin. No. This was not an execution by khap panchayat of same gothra lovers. The two cockroaches refused to die and I once more liberally sprayed and their movement picked up speed; with satisfaction, I was about to make a turn and at that precise moment I could suddenly hear voices…dying voices making fun of me…us. I heard the first one boasting about its adaptability skills and mutations; I heard, “we are more evolved than our predecessors and have altered our taste buds to avoid sweet poisons, we are growing resistant to water and our R&D department is focusing on better wing spans and our eventual goal is immortality. You foolish human, we two were working in project immortality and we were close to achieving the formula”. My eyes stared at them. What were these? Ageing superstars or some psychopaths like amudhan and ilamaaran. The other one jeered at me, “Two type cockroach in the world. Two type. One us, coming from gutter. One you, coming from the society. We biting, you going sick. You biting others, bloody whole society going sick. You spray us with Hit, we going upside down. But there is no Hit for you society cockroaches”. Saying so, it went upside down. I was amazed that this one knew some film dialogues, which were quite old. Wondering when and where it saw this movie. The first one movement’s quickened and it became a past tense after quickly muttering these cautionary words, “Civilization is a thin, dangerously fragile veneer, and when that veneer cracks, man shall became one of the beasts again, falling back into the slime of the primeval abyss he prides himself on having climbed up from.” I had seen this one grazing on Sidney Sheldon’s “The Naked face”.

kiss...of death

She was so enchanted from the very first day her friends introduced him in her life that she dictched her current boy-friend; after all her friends deemed fit to introduce him into her life on her birthday. He was the birthday present; he was a charmer, smooth-talker, much more refined than her ex, was very well connected, very good singer, all-round entertainer. He was so sweet that she called him 'lollipop'. He brought into life new friends...connected her world wide. The only problem was he was 'rich looking'; she had to finance all their endeavours but did she care. She was so smitten with him that she chose to overlook her parents warning, 'foolish girl...you are spending too much time on it'. Calling him 'it' was contemptuous enough; she was full of him. He loved her soft ears the most and caressed her; she loved him being there. Her parents warned her not to get reckless but she had other plans; that afternoon, on their way to cinema theatre, while crossing the road, she was all engrossed with him when she got ran over by a sand truck. Though she got badly crushed but he lay in her blood soaked palm...alomost intact. He was her android lollipop smartphone.

No-concert by T.M. Krishna

Finally the day arrived – 19.04.2014; the day on which I along with Ashok saar attended T.M. Krishna’s concert or concept of “no-concert”. Though I extensively listen to TMK’s cd’s, this concert was my first experience of live performance; had literally primed Ashok saar for this concert else he would happily spent the day with his kids. The venue was Boys Hostel, Indira Nagar, Adyar and was organized by Hamsadhwani. TMK was accompanied on violin by Dr. Hemalatha and not by Shriramkumar, on mridangam by Arun Prakash and on ghatam by Chandrsekara Sharma. I went expecting an auditorium but it was beneath a corrugated roof but the podium had fancy lights which certainly made TMK very uncomfortable so much so when electricity went for one phase, he gladly wished that ‘it need not come till the end’ and so it did not, while leaving the left side of the audience high and dry. I also expected a sales counter for cd’s and his book “A Southern Music – The Karnatik Story” and bingo, it was there. The book was priced at Rs. 799/-; I would have bought something but Ashok’s saar sagacious advice prevailed and I refrained from buying anything. To start with, the seating arrangement of the artists was contrary to what we see in our traditional concerts; it seemed that artists were on equal footing except for ghatam player. The organizer spoke few works about the release of the 2nd edition of the book and about ‘marveling on TMK’s music’. I was on tenterhooks as to how the concert would shape up, what krithis etc. TMK started with brief alaapanai of ragam Abhogi followed by “sabhapathikku vera” (with neraval) in an ultra slow tempo – never heard this piece at such a languid pace; could sense the difficulty for the mridangist. This was really a sedate start something akin to what Manoj Prabhakar used to give as an opener to Indian innings. And then came another alaapani which I thought was Janaranjani but Ashok saar corrected me and it was Purnachandrika; both the ragams are janya ragams of 29th melakartha (Dheerasankarabharanam). The alaapanai was a breezy affair and then came the tanam out of nowhere rendered superbly; TMK had to poke the mridangam vidhwan after finishing off the tanam fo action. Since this was the no-concert concept and hence, came thillana composed by Poochi Iyengar as a thunderbolt rendered without any flaw. Ashok saar sat dumb-founded – he is more of a tradionalist and could not digest the selection of ragam and then the thillana. Then came ragam aalapanai Useni followed by krithi “sri kalahasti” rendered with superb bhava again at chouka kalam. Another aalapanai followed in Suruti ragam; one maami seated behind me remarked “mudika porana (is he going to end?)”. Just when we were guessing which krithi would it be, then came another aalapanai in ragam Kalyani. At this point, TMK asked, “till what time can I sing?” I announced to Ashok saar that it would an unconnected krithi with the ragam and so came “Jagadhodharana” in ragam Kapi. And then came another aalapanai in ragam Khamas followed by krithi “sujana jeevana” followed by taniavarthanam in sankeerna jathi thriputa talam. After this krithi, followed the tukadas – virutham-hey govindan hey gopala, baro Krishna and mangalam. The accompanying artists fully utilized the opportunity given to them; I felt that the mirdangam and ghatam were under utilized. The concert, overall, was set up at slow pace and made the audience very restless; one maami dozed off very early and another senior person next to me was following the IPL score. One more thing which is patently noticeable is that - all the music concerts are attended by our senior citizens – maamis donning pattu sarees and jewels; this crowd at Adayar was more sober. The next gen is busy watching IPL or poking elsewhere. I personally liked the concept of ‘no-concert’; all these years our minds have been conditioned in terms of our expectation from a concert. TMK has changed the format or to put Ashok saar words ‘de-structured’ the elements; all the aspects are present but not presented in the manner we are used to. We, after all, are used to ‘the sheep behaviour’ – keep on following the earlier one. Kudos to TMK for trying to pave a path for another structure. This particular concert was dominated by ragam aalapanai and bhava laden krithis rendered impeccably and thus, was very sedate. TMK should have sensed the restlessness of the audience and ought to have shifted gears and sung krithis like ‘manavyalakin’, ‘nenarunchinanu’ to keep the audience interested.

the balacing act

Just had a glimpse of 'India's got talent' yesterday night; gabbar singh made his daughter, reshma, to do the rope balancing trick with few variations. It was no new trick and i have seen such performances many a times, right from my childhood (the photo was taken last year at marina beach, madras); this is not to take away any credit from the perormer, a kid of 5 years, but one fact which could not be digested was the reaction of the judges especially karan johar. KJ acted as if he was seeing such an act for the first time in his life and if he truly was, then one must reach a conclusion that he lives in a world devoid of reality. Kareena's plastic expression simply gave away that she was on a acting mode.Mrs. kehr was so afraid to see the act itself that she covered her eyes with saree pallu; malaika arora khan was the only judge who gave some sane reaction that of giving the kid a hug. Pity these celebrities...

Caught!

The day when I was caught in the act and that too by my dad; that day, that very moment remains fresh in my brain. It was something straight from some movie script. He had come to drop me at Mattuthavani (an integrated bus terminal just outside Madurai). It was around 6 pm; the sun was slowly retreating but heat was still on. The bus to Bangalore was delayed; we stood watching the usual melee associated with arrival of a bus; men and all scampering to get seats through the door and windows, some threw their luggages including chappals on the seats as a mark of advance reservation.

As I was scanning through various shops, I saw her. My heart raced on seeing...it was almost a week's separation; we had parted company around Othakadai. Soon I started pestering my dad to return, there was no point in wasting time. He, eventually, gave-in to my request and said bye.

I rushed and soon we kissed; Bangalore had taught me not to worry about others. There was no guilt in me; I had earned this. I was fully immersed in my little world and thus, failed to notice pat on my shoulder. Eventually I heard some voice saying, "dey! the bus is parked there". And I turned to see my dad standing as I let Wills cigarette smoke on his face. I saw him hit his forehead and expected a long sermon but he tersely said, "fire at one end and fool at the other". Pointing me the bus, I saw him walking out slowly... with the cigarette firmly in place between my fingers...soon I crushed the stub...forever.

some games

She stood on the ridge road stretch asking for a lift; it was quarter to 11…few hours remained of Friday the thirteenth. The scorpio just braked in front of her to offer the free rider what she sought…a free ride that was not to be.

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He had been warned by his group not to pick up girls/ladies as passengers at night especially from and around connaught place; it was not as if Baiju turned out to be a lusty monster at nights – he was a jolly good young fellow from varanasi, taxing to make bucks. He needed some bucks that night for fuel; all he had a crumpled note of Rs. 50 and he was far away from his final destination – the T3. As he veered to his left, on to the barakhamba road, he did not fail to note a female figure standing under a dimly lit street pole, the yellow street light was enough to reveal the skimpy dress which her hugged her figure.

She had been standing there, under the pole, since quarter past ten; eyes nervously trying to peer through the dimly lit road, beyond the circle. She knew somewhere in the darkness men waited for her; her lips silently prayed for lift.

Baiju braked a few meters ahead and she came running in and sought lift upto kale khan. Wondering as to what this maal was going to do at kale khan, he said “aao ji” and she hopped into the front seat. He eyed her skimpy dress while changing the gear and said, “madam, 100/- rs. Ok na?” and she nodded. As the white indica negotiated few circles and neared mandi house, she heard the sound of following bullet. Very soon, Baiju saw two famous duos which he was supposed to avoid especially during nights…pair of constable and head constable, the ‘thullas’. As the duo parked the bullet, Baiju’s lips uttered abuses…silently. More abusive words poured out as Baiju was yanked out of the car…Baiju at receiving end. Soon the charges flowed out; that of carrying prostitution racket to trying to rape. Baiju realized the whole game of the trinity. He announced, “saab! Only 50 rs… diiesel fill karna hai”. Tarkeeb Singh went furious and came out set of volleys for the girl, “saali, bola than a night time only private cars and no taxis”. The girl shouted while hopping out, “time 11 ho gaya tha....”. And then the negotiations started and eventually settled for atleast the tea cost. Tarkeeb and Jaal (the sidekick) knew they could not push for more for a crazy driver may end up reporting to some cop. With private cars, this would not be the case; rich haul of cash was guaranteed in private car case and then there was the case of blackmailing. It was a bad day for the trinity. Baiju accelerated with a poker face till he could not see the trinity in his rear mirror…

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Soon the girl chose to quit the holy alliance; Tarkeeb had other ideas to up his income from the side business which roads gave him. He cajoled his wife to become part of the alliance…there was no risk; all she had to do was to hop in a private car and then they would intercept the car and money would flow in. She took her baby steps and soon the nervousness gave way to bold confidence…all went as per plan until Friday the thirteenth. Tarkeeb was posted on a night “route duty” near dhaula kuan; she announced that it was off being Friday the thirteenth but Tarkeeb persuaded her and assured jaal, his able sidekick was there and money was not to be lost because of silly dates. Jaal, for comfort level, agreed to take risk at 9 pm and that too at ridge road which was closer to dhula kual. Everything was arranged for. She stood near opposite the park entrance and she managed to hop into a black scorpio…Jaal was impressed…it was a mighty catch. She hopped into the front seat and delivered her dialogue…the destination. The driver eyed her and nodded; she could sense the scorpio picking speed and close to 7-8 minutes had passed, there was no sign of Jaal. She looked back hoping to catch the bikes light but she caught three men staring at her. Soon the power windows rolled up and the scorpio came to a stand still somewhere around side ridge road; she was pulled out to the back seat and she knew there was no Jaal coming and there was no point in protesting…it was a consensual rape…a rape which never became a ‘news’ in the Saturday the fourteenth paper.

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Jaal seeing Tarkeeb’s idea of profiting more had waited for the right moment and it was a simple deal with the scorpio chap…a simple web on Friday the thirteenth. Tarkeeb and his wife were not be seen thereafter…

Gurgaon-Concrete Jungle

Gurgaon as a city, from National Highway No. 8, looks superb; major corporate buildings flanking both sides of the road, the NH 8 with series of flyovers, qualis, honda's, smaller cars compete with audi's, jaguar's, rolls-royce and high-end bikers accelerating and racing on the NH, malls and lots of malls, metro connecting the malls, high-rise apartments...

From these virtues emerge vices...speed deaths on the NH, firing including corporate firings and labor unrest, traffic jams,flooding, uncouth local population including those in power with tongues perennially lashing abuses in crude hariyanavi dialect, green fields being converted into high-rise apartments...the list goes on.

Gurgaon - essentially a village given guru drona has metamorphosed into concrete jungle with zero infrastructure in place-not even sewage system and public transport with metro being subverted to prime locations of prime estate developers. Come rainy season, the roads are only fit for navigation vide boats and traffic piles up for minimum 3 hours, NH-8 included.

dabba-the tiffin carrier

Carrying a tiffin box to office, that too a three tier tiffin carrier, after 12 years seemed very strange to me. Obviously I would have continued consuming yawn evoking food served at office but for the right wrist fracture. The very sight of a stainless-steel tiffin carrier conjures in mind a different time period and thus, the aversion of carrying it; the outer plastic dabba for insulation purpose is a saving feature. The habit of carrying tiffin ceased when i entered college; I vehemently and successfully resisted my mom's idea of continuing with my old oval stainless-steel school tiffin box. The oval tiffin box was my sole faithful companion to school right till my 12th; curd-rice with lemon pickle or roti with tomato onion sabji were my favorites.

Another dabba which I stumbled upon was that of Stanley's; an amazing film on child labor by amol gupte. The plot revolves around stanley who does not gets his dabba and khadus-the hindi teacher (played by amol gupte) who also does not carry his dabba but feasts on students dabbas. The dabba, metaphorically also appeared to me as referring to stanley's fertile tales about his mother (when he pens an essay on his mother, the way his mother prepares his dabba). A must-watch film - would compel the viwers to jog their memory to school days, having lunch in-beetween periods, teachers-good & bad etc.

Here comes Monday…followed by…

One sentiment which I share with Pakkada of pasanga fame is looking up the calender for holidays and now the list of holidays circulated by the HR. Life was not all about commuting to Gurgaon daily…school, college and advocacy was all punctuated with regular dosage of holidays. These holidays have dried up, no point in looking the holiday list; the last one was in April and the next one is in August. Life is fixated on reaching the Friday evening so as to enjoy Saturday and Sunday. But as Saturday dawns, the feeling of coming Monday sinks in and the weekend goes in brooding and mulling how to sail through mon-fri…I would not call it sailing through…it is akin to a test-match innings…play it innings by innings…pre-lunch and post lunch session. The sole aim, suddenly has become to arrive at Friday evening!

"The calender is an indispensable requisite of modern civilized life." - Meghnad Saha

krishna, narmada & tunnel

Train journey always excites me and brings out the kid in me; the green fields, rivers, hillocks, small stations to big junctions, red and black soils, the chambal ghatti, the music train produces....the route of tamilnadu express always fascinated me so much so i remained awake to see river krishna around 1am after vijayawada. The narmada river just before bhopal and the tunnel section between bhopal-itarsi happen to be my favorites. Over the years we adopted the bangalore route for to & fro and literally gave up the tamilnadu line. It was almost after a decade that i was back on the line but this time on different train and time setting; however the madurai sampark kranti just got delayed to enable me to cover the river krishna, river narmada and tunnel section; this time i felt that forest in the tunnel section had dwindled and was not spectacular as it used to be - the awe perhaps has diminished little bit (grown-up effect).

Dear Grandma

Na jaayate mriyate vaavipascit
Naayam kutascin-na babhuuva kascit
Ajo nityah saasvato yam puraano
Na hanyate hanyamaane sarire

The intelligent aatman is not born, nor does He die.
He did not spring from anything and nothing sprang from him.
This unborn, eternal, evelasting, ancient is
Not slain even when the body is destroyed.
- Kathopanisad

As I write this, far away in trichy, the mortal body of my beloved maternal grandma shall be consigned to agni, the agni devouring the flesh and the bones. She is very close to my heart; death may take away the frail body but not sweet memories etched in my heart. I’ve all through, spent my summer vacations with her, listening to her sweet voice narrating stories after stories about her tryst with peoples and lord murugan. Certainly, being the first grandson, I was her pet; with all fondness she would over-serve me (rather all, even strangers too). Her food serving style was testimony to her magnanimous heart; even in this June she distributed all the marriage sweets to all the visitors. I would keenly await the arrival of her magic vibhuti for my exams and credit for passing all the exams goes to her and my mom’s prayers. It was she who taught me sandhyvandaman mantras and it is because of her initiation, I still perform my morning duty.

Her life was marked by ‘sacrifices’ – for supporting and raising grandpa’s siblings, marrying them off, raising her own kids, borrowing and repaying the debts. It is indeed remarkable how she single-handedly managed her finances and savings and took care of her daughters after the death of my grandpa; perhaps a trait (the fighting spirit) common to that generation.

She also had some frailties; long hours of looking into horoscopes (all for free), food habits and lack of regular walking were prime ones which resulted in slow heart pumping. It was in the month of December 2005, she suffered her major attack but she hung on, hung on to see the death of her 3rd grandchild and my marriage. Just a month ago she emerged victoriously from the ventilator but complications compiled. Yesterday, she was at the nursing home narrating to the doctor her problems and suddenly, without any sign, life ebbed away in a span of five to ten minutes. Death was an unexpected visitor! Perhaps, persons of her rasi/lagnam bid farewell suddenly.

This june I prostrated before her with fond hopes of meeting again in November. But fate had other plans. This morning the vaadhiyar, as usual arrived late and over phone I heard the chants and final procedure being executed and finally the wails when the body was lifted. I cannot comment on the desirability of such procedures.

I only hope the aatma continues to shower blessings. I have some bookish knowledge which has taught me to distinguish the bodiless soul from the perishable body and thus, not to grieve. Tears do emerge on the thought of having separated permanently. But I have sweet memories to cherish which death cannot take away…of course…I wait on.

Daughter & father-Bond between

This has been the month of re-runs; had repeat watch of pasanga, tamil padam and abhium naanum. The last mentioned tamil film touches the bond shared between a father played by prakash raj and his daughter played by trisha. The film is simple in plot but portrays the emotions beautifully; an affectionate father (would seem over affectionate) a confident daughter who chooses her life partner on her own, marraige and eventually moving away from her father's place. This scenario is not out of place in normal indian households (of course there exists option between love and arranged marriage). This is prakash raj's second film as a possessive father (santosh subramanyam) and I have become his fan since gilli, mozhi, velli theeray etc.

The relationship between daugher and her father may be taken as granted but given the concept of settling at husband's place, the wedding day shatters the grantedness. More painful is the day when girl's parents bid her adieu at the railway platform/airport/bus-stand after leaving her at her hubby's place. And this I realised when I came to know about my fil crying after boarding the train and my wife crying for an hour later at zero hours. Again after three months, while watching this movie, tears trickled from my wife's eyes and by the time we finished teh film and went to our room, tears flowed like a river. And the unspoken and unsaid bond and affection between a father and his girl dawned on me. Given the fabric of indian household, the girls slowly move away from fathers (usually reciprocated) but affection remains and deepens.

“Certain is it that there is no kind of affection so purely angelic as of a father to a daughter. In love to our wives there is desire; to our sons, ambition; but to our daughters there is something which there are no words to express.” - Joseph Addison

Road to commonwealth-II

In order to project dilli as a world class city to the games tourist and ensure faster transportation,apart from the road beautification and landscaping scams, a thick yellow line is being drawn on the roads, earmarking that wide lane only for the commonwealth vehicles. Further, it is being mooted to impose Rs. 2000/- on the common man vehicle whcih infiltrates that games lane. As it is, under the garb of arranging the games, crores of public money has gone into drain and now a direct penalty is sought to be imposed on the common man.

Apparently, the central government has pitched in and a review committee has been formed to look into the scams and pace. However, it has been decided not to punish the scamsters and it has been promised that after the conclusion of the games, a full scale probe shall be undertaken and that punishment shall be severe and exemplary. Two months time affords enough time to arrive at peaceful division of the booty; few heads would roll as token measure and self-praise of the games will roll out. Public memory is too short and by the end of the games, everything shall be rolled under the carpet.

Road to Commonwealth-I

Just returned from troubled waters and dilli’s woeful roads; as a dilliwallah I often boast about wide and superb roads in dilli but deep down I know that these maze of roads linked politicians office and home and other power brokers. Roads elsewhere and everywhere are distant cousins of rich-roads and a repeat source of wealth and employment for these roads are repeatedly raped by different civic agencies and contractors; frequent digging and covering up never ceases to amaze me. Come rainy season, traffic comes to a standstill and in many pockets cars and buses float and then starts shifting of blame between civic agencies. The commonwealth project has added more spice to dilli roads; dilliwallas are enjoying deadly mocktail of rain water invading construction work and materials (malbaa). Come October, more traffic restrictions shall follow with blocking up of major roads in order to ensure smooth passage for dignitaries, sportsmen and politicians of course. All this to showcase beautiful dilli and improve tourism. Or all this to swallow the common wealth of we the people? Newspapers are having a gala time in reporting various scams and I am somehow aligned with mani shankar iyer’s wish of rains spoiling the great commonwealth circus. Certainly, dilli’s bid for 2019 asiad stands thwarted – silver lining behind dark clouds. However, order of apex court gagging newspapers from reporting on ensuing investigation in re: ‘scams’ is a retro step and has the effect of validating a legislation conferring immunity on these scams. The public has all the rights to be informed about the nitty-gritty’s of the scams since it is the public money, which is being frittered and pocketed.

Trip to Agra

This was my fourth trip to agra driven purely out of my selfish need to capture the taj mahal in my digi cam which exposed my mother-in-law to month long misery in the form of typhoid and knee trouble. The justification to the trip was folks at my in-laws place would enquire where they had been i.e. places seen and the taj is supposed to be the stock answer.





Certainly the month of June and rising temperature was the principal devil; clumsy innova with no back door provision and an amateur driver who refused to cross 80 kmph added to our misery. We overlooked mathura in order to reach agra early, which reason was ascribed to our sufferings later in the day. We choose to have an early breakfast at sagar ratna which proved to be a wise decision and reached akbar’s tomb around 10 am. Compared to the taj, akbar’s tomb is far more calm and serene with deers and peacocks hugging the green grass. The structure is simple and not massive compared to other moghul rulers to follow and indeed befits the greatest ruler of moghul era.





And we reached the taj just at the right time, 12 noon in sweltering heat. The camel ride was nice and so was the quick shopping to see banana silk sarees, came leather chappals and quilts. My mom and dad wisely choose to relax at the entrance of the taj. The rest of us (myself, my wife, bil, mil and fil) marched forward bravely while clicking photos. My mil decided to stay put near the shoe removal area. The moment we removed our shoes, we began hopping and dancing and raced furiously to complete the round. A quick round and we were glad to have our shoes back. More pics followed and my purpose was finished and I silently resolved never ever to visit the taj with any other relations. Wholly tired and drained, the agra fort was skipped. So agra needs to be visited again in order to capture agra fort and the view of the taj from the agra fort but next time, I can relax at the entrance of the taj. Till then, I wait like a praying mantis!




Another two-hour ride through pits and holes took us to buland darwaaza (fateh-pur-sikri) wherein for the first time we employed a guide who using my mom’s weak sentiments forced us to purchase a chadar, which was given to the local mosque. Hindi being an alien language to my in-laws, they only could stare emptily and jaws wide open; possibly when their misery would end. But abhi to picture baaki thi. My bil, however, summed up superbly on our way back. One aspect intrigued me re: use of khooni haathi by akbar in dispensation of justice. The elephant had the power (by smell) to find out bad men and used to trample them to death.

Our last stop was to be mathura but fate had other plans for us. We spent two hours at a local jyothi dhaba wherein we ended paying closed to Rs. 1000/- and another hour at railway crossing gates; the march of trains seemed endless. We further spent three hours waiting for the traffic to clear which had amassed in national highway 2. It was only around 10 pm that we hopped on to NH 2 and thus, mathura was skipped. It was close to 2 am when we reached home and thus, ended my fourth trip to agra.

Vidajaaladuraa

My thumb rule for tamil and hindi film songs is first impression rule. If the music or lyrics captivates me at the first instance, then I am hooked to that particular song to the extent that it becomes the suprabhaatam. Lately, mundhinam paarthen of vaaranam aayiram has joined this list.

However, the above rule certainly cannot be applied to carnatic music. There were certain raagas rather chauka kala krithis in particular raagam for which I never had the taste. However, I have realized that my taste has rather become inclusive and expanded owing to endless hours devoted to listening to great voices of the past. Listening naturally presents an easier and attractive option compared to practicing the fiddle for a lethargic person like me. Krithis in raagams like kanadaa, arabhi, sahaana, sri, naatai, ravichandrika, bahudari, natakurunji, madhyamavati, kadanakudukalam, reethigowla were instant hit with me. As I have grown up, I have come to appreciate and love raagams like devakanthari, begada, thodi, varaali, bhairavi, mukhaari to name a few.

I heard Tyagaraja’s krithi – vidajaaladuraa in janaranjani ragam rendered by T.M. Krishna (CD) around 28th January, 2010 and since then, this krithi has become the suprabhaatam. It proceeds at a softy level (owing krishna’s voice) but at the same time is lively, just like a flying butterfly or gliding butter. The accompanying violinist and mirdangist have added the right tadka given the correct mic setting.

Of the trinity, krithis composed by tyagaraja are akin to draksha fruit, gives instant taste and this particular krithi – vidajaaladuraa transports me to world of sheer bliss. I found tyagaraja’s krithis smarane sukha in the same raagam very much slow and dull; perhaps the saint was in too much contemplative mood.

In vidajaaladura, the saint conveys:

“Listen, Oh Raama! It is not possible for my mind to let go its hold on your holy feet, though it may be tossed about in a state of distress caused by entertaining unrealizable desires. Whatever tasks I might undertake, whatever unseeable sights I might see, I have regarded them all as yourself and felt delighted that I did so.”

Meaning courtesy - Spiritual Heritage of Tyagaraja – C. Ramanujachari

Death, relief and fight

What seemed to be a normal delivery, wasn’t and Aravind’s struggle with life started soon. Aravind, my cousin (chitti/mausi’s first son), as an infant seemed all normal for the whole family, but my maternal grandma (as well as Aravind’s) was quick to note the problems and forewarned. Lack of oxygen for certain seconds during the delivery was identified as the culprit. It started with delayed milestones but the seizure attack complicated the things. Seeing the CT scan report, an expert doctor gave only 12 years. With seizure attacks getting longer, his walk dwindled to limping and then to dragging on the floor. He would still rush in joy dragging his things and legs on the floor. Speech never developed but he had deep liking for music and he used to hum and sing the opening phrases of songs such as, “urvasi..urvasi”. He keenly followed cricket too; it was “balla takka” for him. If delhi was bad for him, bangalore’s climate did him. But he had the chance of attending spastic school upto certain age in bangalore, which proved better for him and his mother. The climate of madras and trichy suited him best from cold and cough point of view. The walk was totally gone and it was purely buggy ride for him.

While his maternal grandma doted on him, his paternal grandparents only displayed formal affection so much so that his paternal grandma mocked at his style of walking at one stage. She now, is at the same stage of limping with knees gone.

Soon the buggy ride too stopped and he was confined to bed only after thigh fracture. He was successful in defeating the ventilator too but succumbed to pneumonia; he had some difficulty in breathing and his mother assumed that it was due to cold which was a normal feature with him. She stepped out to buy some ayurvedic medicine and he faded away forever with mouth opened and eyes half-open. She was inconsolable that she was not besides him till the time it was told to her that the boy had seen vishwa rupam of the lord going by the status of eyes and mouth and further that it was raatha saptami day, the day for which bhisma (of mahabharata fame) waited to give his life. The boy’s younger brother, aged 7, observed – anna would be born in a much better family and shall be better than him.

The immediate reaction of near and dear ones was that it was an escape from suffering, endured for nineteen years, both for the kid and parents. I am sure that this birth was necessitated to off-set some karma of previous births. Very often my maternal grandpa, a tax-practitioner by profession, wished that he be born in a para-bhramam state, owing to accounts and figures.

Soon, the focus shifted to rites and rituals. The paternal side was keen on doing-away with formalities owing to non-belief and cost factor. Indeed, the boy’s paternal grandma sobbed on 14th day that Rs. 65,000/- had been wasted on silly procedures. The vaadhiyaar, who gave a moral lecture on the first day, skipped the 9th day rites and clubbed the same with 10th day. The boy’s father and paternal grandma even refused to keep the stone at the house and entrusted the same to the vaadhiyaar. Meanwhile, maternal grandma and my mom were very much upset with vaadhiyaar’s tactics; for them pithru saabam should not be earned.

Amidst all this, erupted fight too on the third day itself; my dad advised my chitti to go for some job and praised her before the maamiyaar (mother-in-law-boy’s paternal grandma). This was not taken in the right spirit by mil and hue and cry was raised over degrading her son, who has history of not sticking to even one job and remains a sales executive at the age of 45 years. My mom relayed this fight news over phone when I was watching vaaranam aayiram at my aunt’s place. Indeed, it was war-ranam-aayiram there (thousand words causing war and ranam). This closely resembled the fight over uruma in one of the raadhika’s serial, though not in scale.

Everybody is back at their place and I believe that the departed soul too is liberated from the cycle of punarapi jananam punarapi maranam.

3 idiots

Times of India very rarely gives a movie a rating of more than four stars and 3 idiots was rated at four and a half and the review concluded saying, “rush for it”. Indeed, we three idiots (myself, soli and fali) had tickets for first day first show (25th December) at liberty. It was after a decade that I was entering into delhi cinema theatre; the last one was taal at chanakya. soli was even careful in reserving the seats; first row of the balcony - ample of leg space and easy exit in case of any accident resembling uphaar theatre.

The film showcases the thought process previously explored in taarien zameen par and munnabhai. No similarity in the plots but both deal with frailties and strength of human. Issue of competition among kids is taken one step forward to that of getting a respectable engineering degree and shifting base to usa, possessing a big house and lamborghini. Truly, in today’s context, engineering degree is the passport to good job, wife and successful life. Commerce and arts graduates are labeled as outcaste. Engineering colleges mushrooming all over the country is a testimony of this attitude. The education system at aal levels leans towards the science stream i.e. if unable to get good % in 12th - opt for a commerce course, if unable to get engineering seat – go for commerce course and then opt for professional courses like C.A. etc. whereas commerce and arts students have no such option of choosing any science subjects.

The underlying point does not fail to strike a powerful chord at personal level. I am grateful that I was not forced into the science stream. Mom always wanted me to join the rat race of engineering. Surely, I would have secured my engineering degree from any college, secured a job and secured a wife by this time. I happily ended in joining a bigger competition group, that of lawyers, worked for free, got exploited and learnt a lot from my court sittings. An adage in this field is that a lawyer prospers when a prostitute considers her retirement. I did not miss the scene where maddy talks of life only being competition to gain credit cards and wife. Poignant dialogue! Both these necessary evils elude lawyers – bankers do not extend credit card to lawyers being litigious and father do not give away their girls for young lawyers lack money. A lawyer’s market is ever in recession. B.E. that as it may be!

But charity work for around 3 years and enjoying long court vacations did not went unnoticed. The family got into saamuhik mental balaatkaar. No occasion was lost in labeling me as non-enterprising and non-pushing. Thankfully, mom supported me through this bad patch. It was indeed a torturous quarter. Eventually I got through a consultant’s position in an american mnc with 25 K deal. Not a bad deal for me, from zilch to 25 K. The mental balatkaar was performed in order to attain some value in marriage market. How does a lawyer compete with computer software engineer who has done mba and is into investment banking and is earning hefty package? 25 K was raised to 40 K in next 10 months. Still no impact on my value in market. Girls were and are still after engineers, abroad or India. Again the family got ready to perform mental balaatkaar-“why don’t you ask for employee status?”. Down nine months, the approval came from usa and I am on rolls and I will be getting my credit card; so much fight. Some peace has dawned on family! What a rat-competition life! The song, “Give me another chance I wanna grow up once again, bachpan to gaya jawani bhi gaye, ek pal to hame jene do” captures the right emotion.


Back to the film! The jaddu ki jhappi is taken forward in the form of talismanic “aal izz well” to overcome human weakness and infuse optimism. 3 idiots, thus, is a nice blend of thoughts of two creative brains – aamir and hirani.

Excessive reliance on god and use of other charms as a solution provider has been denounced. The scene showing kids praying to god and bribing god on the result day like, “bus pass kara dey”, “bhagwan pass kara de, mein rani aur dmple ko apna behan manonga” and another promising to offer Rs. 100 daily was very enjoyable and forces one to go down the memory lane. I always looked to god for passing especially clearing my mathematics paper. Even first rankers like my cousins, who otherwise only paid lip service, used to visit temple and offer bribe. The song aal izz well captures this in lines, “agarbatti rakh ho gaye god to phir bhi dikha nahi”.

Though the spotlight is on aamir, the director has done full justice to the talents of maddy, sharman and the newcomer – omi vaidya. Right from style, xcuse me, rang de basanti, golmaal, life in a metro to 3 idiots, sharman has throughout put in credible performance. The pet of the director, boman, has put in fine performance as a crazy and genius professor-diction and einstein’s hairdo adding more to the performance. The newcomer, omi vaidya as the gas chamber was an instant hit with the audience. The deliberate south indian diction could not be missed and the speech with chamatkar replaced with balatkar and dhan with sthan was toooo good. It was good to see seasoned small screen artists like parikshit sahni and jayant kriplani chipping in. As usual, maddy has come up again with credible performance. The scene with javed jaffery involving his father’s urn was great.

And how can someone miss kareena; the audience went crazy on seeing her. The lip-lock scene of kareena and aamir elicited the biggest roar in the theatre. The lines, “jahanpana tussi great ho, tohfa to kabool karo” with pants down and a spank on ass was great. Cramming and book system has been ridiculed and the scene of farhanhite and prerajulative was thought provoking indeed. How many teachers dare to lean on creativity side in teaching the syllabus? My history teacher, praveen bhatnagar, belonged to this rare breed – came up with new methods to teach old history and presented us history in vivid colors. Amidst laugh riot scenes, came couple of melodramatic scenes – sharman crying in hospital and thanking aamir, sharman committing suicide, jayant kriplani hiring sharman and parikshit sahani giving go-ahead to maddy to pursue photography apprenticeship (this scene was very well appreciated by the audience).

The scene dealing with delivery of baby seemed to me too out of context. Also the electric current passing though chappal and shoe first appeared to me illogical, for rubber is an insulator. But obviously I missed the connecting point - salt water happens to be a conductor of electricity and in this case it was during the mutra visarjan process. And kareena marrying her fiancé after 10 years was too much. But no complaints, the story is dil-logical and seeks to send across couple of right social messages and above aal takes the audience into recap mode.