Thursday, August 11, 2011 at 12:09am
There is nothing like looking at the headlines of the local newspapers to provide a magnificent exercise in Zen early in the morning. Witness yourself as your blood pressure rises, breathing quickens and skin shrinks while reading the news items. Then calm yourself by realizing if such mind-numbing stupidities irritates and angers one, then the terrorists have won!
Today’s main news was about the ‘Devaprashnam’ (divination) being conducted at the Padmanabha temple. No pig entrails are involved. Only a few vegetarians, shirtless with their sacred threads, stare into some leaves, water and fire and come up with amazing stuff. It has been divinely revealed that taking away the temple and its properties from the Brahmins (like the ones conducting the divination) is the root cause of all misery. No explicit requests to return it all or provide some cows were made. But some glorious examples of cold reading followed. The divine interpreters divined that
Crime will rise.
Population and prices will increase.
Governments, state and central, will face problems
Federal Reserve will leave interest rates intact etc etc
It is absolutely true that anyone interested in the Indian market should know the ABCs: Astrology, Bollywood, Cricket. Astrology and her ever increasing litter literally litter the Indian society. Flipping through a Malayalam women’s magazine (‘Mahilaratnam’=Female gem; for those interested in specifics), I found an article on ice- cream astrology. Personality traits were predicted based on people’s preference for stick, cone or cup ice-cream!
This inspires me to create pillion rider astrology. Traveling through the city roads during peak hours with the car window rolled down, one is forced into intimate acquaintance with two-wheeler users who jostle for even the narrowest openings in the traffic.
For this new astrological scheme, we will focus only on the wifely pillion riders seated behind their husband or companion drivers. Even Government of India officially now uses the word companion (instead of spouse) for state-sponsored trips. We will not analyze the same sex riders and little kids clinging for their dear lives to their driver parents.
I have observed four types of female pillion-ers.
1. The ones who prefer the cold touch of the vehicle’s metal than any physical contact with their companion driver.
2. Those who find support on their companion’s shoulders.
3. The ones who wrap their arms around the driver’s tummy…which in most cases is a rice belly.
4. Those who tantalisingly have their palm on their companion’s thigh.
It is quite easy to work out the personality traits of each of these types based on these observations. Of course, it will make no sense. But that is the core competency and appeal of astrology.
While doing the morning round of wedding invitations in a taxi, we ran into a protest march near the secretariat (state government HQ). It’s been a long time since I saw a red flag march. This was the communist party raising their voice against inflation and price rise. Around 50 women followed the leaders in the front who were shouting slogans. Behind the women came around 50 men. Traffic was held up as they passed towards their destination, the secretariat gate.
“How much do these protesters get paid?” I wondered aloud.
“500 rupees and a chicken biriyani” replied our taxi driver matter-of-factedly.
“That’s not bad at all for an hour of walking and sloganeering”
“Yes, that is why you cannot find people for manual labor anymore these days. Protesting, marching, picketing, attending political rallies etc have become lucrative business. People who used to work in the fields are now walking around collecting daily ‘protesting’ wages and eating biriyani.”
“I don’t blame them, it is easy money”
“The logical end will come when these professional protesters themselves will form a union and start protesting for better wages!”
Early this morning, an old newspaper, magazines and waste-paper collector was walking around in the neighborhood rhythmically calling out “Pay-par, Pay-par-ay, Pay-par”. Reminded me of the tenure-track professors and overzealous PhD students who obsess over their journal submissions.
Coconut cutters had come to the neighbor’s this morning. This is a particular caste of men who come to homes to climb the coconut trees, pluck the ripe coconuts and cut down the dried fronts. Earlier they would climb up, cut down whatever needed cutting down, climb down and collect their wages. Now there is a new element of technology introduced. Whatever is cut is tied to a rope and lowered gently. Must be mostly owing to the increased presence of costlier cars and glass windows in most homes. The ropy innovation has also converted this into a two-man job. Employment gains.
At Ambalamukku, there is a signboard announcing the homeopathic practice of a rather dangerously named Dr. Letha.L! Dr. Kevorkian would be proud.
We lost our way this morning. Call was placed to the aunty who knew the directions to the house we were looking for. “Look for the ‘Elanji’ (Bullet-wood) tree where the road splits into two. Take the right street. You will soon see a board for Akshaya borewell systems. It is the third house to the left from there with a compound wall painted orange.” I would very much like to see how Google maps and GPS systems tackle such organically ever evolving Indian neighborhoods.
As a matter of specific principles and general intelligence, I am against all forms of organized religion. But in matters of food, I make exceptions. Tasted some of a local temple’s ‘Aravana payasam’ yesterday night. Made with rice, ghee and jaggery, it remains the closest thing to divinity to come out of any temple. Local restaurants have announced various Ifthar packages. Hoping to try one before the month ends.
Discussions about my prospective marriage in the houses we visit reached a whole different level today. In the morning, I was given a mini-lecture and for a change, in English, as if change of language automatically introduces more sense:
“You need a wife to manage your affairs.” Profound!
Things got a little out of hand in the afternoon mostly because I was lethargic after a full lunch that featured coconut chicken, chicken curry, fish curry, anchovies fry, aviyal (mixed vegetables), okra sautéed and beans ‘thoran’. No one should be blamed for the inability to pay attention to any conversation after that. Besides, majority of conversations that I have been enduring are mindless collision of clichés.
I realized a little too late that our host was asking Amma for my zodiac sign, birth star and other heavenly associations. Then he got up to fetch a book that would reveal which stars should not cross my path! Suddenly he asked “Would you be interested in a girl working for the State Bank of India? They have done lot of recent recruitments.” I suspected a parade of prospective brides to begin in the next few moments. I had to act quickly. Gathering all the politeness, humbleness, humbility etc that I could, for it was indeed a splendid lunch they had provided, I said, “Since I have been abroad for so long, my tastes have changed.” I realize that at this rate I will be forced to play the fake gay card sooner than I thought.
Much of the anguish was extinguished by the sight of a lady elephant, on our way back, on the roadside helping load up some wood. I guess I must clarify that this is not a euphemism, I am indeed talking about a pachyderm!
Neighbor’s grandson who is based in Vancouver and is here on vacation came for a chat in the evening. He talked about the tardy service at a local Italian restaurant. The waiter took more than two hours to get the dinner to him.
“This is unacceptable. Can I see your manager?”
“But I am single, Sir!”
“What has that got to do with the food being delayed?!! Please take me to your manager,”
“Sir please, no sir, I am single. The other waiter is down with flu.”
Later in the night, I was rather relieved to find another wedding invitee that we visited, greatly interested in my theatrical activities. Since he was a retired civil servant and a humorist of repute, I got a little carried away and talked about the different dramas I was part of in the US. When I paused a bit for thought (and dramatic effect), my gentle listener-host, whose attention I had much appreciated, turned to Amma and said, “He is giving us subtle hints that his bride should be interested in theater!”
O! The Betrayal!
There is nothing like looking at the headlines of the local newspapers to provide a magnificent exercise in Zen early in the morning. Witness yourself as your blood pressure rises, breathing quickens and skin shrinks while reading the news items. Then calm yourself by realizing if such mind-numbing stupidities irritates and angers one, then the terrorists have won!
Today’s main news was about the ‘Devaprashnam’ (divination) being conducted at the Padmanabha temple. No pig entrails are involved. Only a few vegetarians, shirtless with their sacred threads, stare into some leaves, water and fire and come up with amazing stuff. It has been divinely revealed that taking away the temple and its properties from the Brahmins (like the ones conducting the divination) is the root cause of all misery. No explicit requests to return it all or provide some cows were made. But some glorious examples of cold reading followed. The divine interpreters divined that
Crime will rise.
Population and prices will increase.
Governments, state and central, will face problems
Federal Reserve will leave interest rates intact etc etc
It is absolutely true that anyone interested in the Indian market should know the ABCs: Astrology, Bollywood, Cricket. Astrology and her ever increasing litter literally litter the Indian society. Flipping through a Malayalam women’s magazine (‘Mahilaratnam’=Female gem; for those interested in specifics), I found an article on ice- cream astrology. Personality traits were predicted based on people’s preference for stick, cone or cup ice-cream!
This inspires me to create pillion rider astrology. Traveling through the city roads during peak hours with the car window rolled down, one is forced into intimate acquaintance with two-wheeler users who jostle for even the narrowest openings in the traffic.
For this new astrological scheme, we will focus only on the wifely pillion riders seated behind their husband or companion drivers. Even Government of India officially now uses the word companion (instead of spouse) for state-sponsored trips. We will not analyze the same sex riders and little kids clinging for their dear lives to their driver parents.
I have observed four types of female pillion-ers.
1. The ones who prefer the cold touch of the vehicle’s metal than any physical contact with their companion driver.
2. Those who find support on their companion’s shoulders.
3. The ones who wrap their arms around the driver’s tummy…which in most cases is a rice belly.
4. Those who tantalisingly have their palm on their companion’s thigh.
It is quite easy to work out the personality traits of each of these types based on these observations. Of course, it will make no sense. But that is the core competency and appeal of astrology.
While doing the morning round of wedding invitations in a taxi, we ran into a protest march near the secretariat (state government HQ). It’s been a long time since I saw a red flag march. This was the communist party raising their voice against inflation and price rise. Around 50 women followed the leaders in the front who were shouting slogans. Behind the women came around 50 men. Traffic was held up as they passed towards their destination, the secretariat gate.
“How much do these protesters get paid?” I wondered aloud.
“500 rupees and a chicken biriyani” replied our taxi driver matter-of-factedly.
“That’s not bad at all for an hour of walking and sloganeering”
“Yes, that is why you cannot find people for manual labor anymore these days. Protesting, marching, picketing, attending political rallies etc have become lucrative business. People who used to work in the fields are now walking around collecting daily ‘protesting’ wages and eating biriyani.”
“I don’t blame them, it is easy money”
“The logical end will come when these professional protesters themselves will form a union and start protesting for better wages!”
Early this morning, an old newspaper, magazines and waste-paper collector was walking around in the neighborhood rhythmically calling out “Pay-par, Pay-par-ay, Pay-par”. Reminded me of the tenure-track professors and overzealous PhD students who obsess over their journal submissions.
Coconut cutters had come to the neighbor’s this morning. This is a particular caste of men who come to homes to climb the coconut trees, pluck the ripe coconuts and cut down the dried fronts. Earlier they would climb up, cut down whatever needed cutting down, climb down and collect their wages. Now there is a new element of technology introduced. Whatever is cut is tied to a rope and lowered gently. Must be mostly owing to the increased presence of costlier cars and glass windows in most homes. The ropy innovation has also converted this into a two-man job. Employment gains.
At Ambalamukku, there is a signboard announcing the homeopathic practice of a rather dangerously named Dr. Letha.L! Dr. Kevorkian would be proud.
We lost our way this morning. Call was placed to the aunty who knew the directions to the house we were looking for. “Look for the ‘Elanji’ (Bullet-wood) tree where the road splits into two. Take the right street. You will soon see a board for Akshaya borewell systems. It is the third house to the left from there with a compound wall painted orange.” I would very much like to see how Google maps and GPS systems tackle such organically ever evolving Indian neighborhoods.
As a matter of specific principles and general intelligence, I am against all forms of organized religion. But in matters of food, I make exceptions. Tasted some of a local temple’s ‘Aravana payasam’ yesterday night. Made with rice, ghee and jaggery, it remains the closest thing to divinity to come out of any temple. Local restaurants have announced various Ifthar packages. Hoping to try one before the month ends.
Discussions about my prospective marriage in the houses we visit reached a whole different level today. In the morning, I was given a mini-lecture and for a change, in English, as if change of language automatically introduces more sense:
“You need a wife to manage your affairs.” Profound!
Things got a little out of hand in the afternoon mostly because I was lethargic after a full lunch that featured coconut chicken, chicken curry, fish curry, anchovies fry, aviyal (mixed vegetables), okra sautéed and beans ‘thoran’. No one should be blamed for the inability to pay attention to any conversation after that. Besides, majority of conversations that I have been enduring are mindless collision of clichés.
I realized a little too late that our host was asking Amma for my zodiac sign, birth star and other heavenly associations. Then he got up to fetch a book that would reveal which stars should not cross my path! Suddenly he asked “Would you be interested in a girl working for the State Bank of India? They have done lot of recent recruitments.” I suspected a parade of prospective brides to begin in the next few moments. I had to act quickly. Gathering all the politeness, humbleness, humbility etc that I could, for it was indeed a splendid lunch they had provided, I said, “Since I have been abroad for so long, my tastes have changed.” I realize that at this rate I will be forced to play the fake gay card sooner than I thought.
Much of the anguish was extinguished by the sight of a lady elephant, on our way back, on the roadside helping load up some wood. I guess I must clarify that this is not a euphemism, I am indeed talking about a pachyderm!
Neighbor’s grandson who is based in Vancouver and is here on vacation came for a chat in the evening. He talked about the tardy service at a local Italian restaurant. The waiter took more than two hours to get the dinner to him.
“This is unacceptable. Can I see your manager?”
“But I am single, Sir!”
“What has that got to do with the food being delayed?!! Please take me to your manager,”
“Sir please, no sir, I am single. The other waiter is down with flu.”
Later in the night, I was rather relieved to find another wedding invitee that we visited, greatly interested in my theatrical activities. Since he was a retired civil servant and a humorist of repute, I got a little carried away and talked about the different dramas I was part of in the US. When I paused a bit for thought (and dramatic effect), my gentle listener-host, whose attention I had much appreciated, turned to Amma and said, “He is giving us subtle hints that his bride should be interested in theater!”
O! The Betrayal!
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