September 20, 2011
Today's Manorama newspaper carried a boxed item in the center page about a Shivanunni from Kozhikode who had accurately predicted (within an hour and 54 seconds) the earthquake strike in northern India. He was so confident of his prediction that he had given it in writing to the district collector of Kozhikode three days ago. Shivanunni bases his calculations on the increasing flux of cosmic rays into different regions of the earth. Earlier he had predicted the Japanese earthquake that triggered the devastating tsunami.
Unfortunately, Manorama is interested only in the sensationalist reporting. I hope to see some TV channels take up Shivanunni as their subject for different shows soon. It seems several engineers, meterologists and geologists had laughed him away and asked him to see a psychiatrist. He had been working on the link between earthquake and cosmic rays for the past five years and is looking for some computer software assistance so that he won't have to do long calculations by hand.
There is some ongoing discussion at home about buying a new car. Our old Maruti 800, now re-registered, has served the family quite well for the past 16 years. This car has travelled to Bangalore, Chennai and Kochi with my mother's bank transfers, not because she would drive in those cities, but because she didn't want to lose out on the fuel allowance and driver allowance that the bank provides monthly!
In the past few weeks, I have seen this car really struggle to climb up our home street, especially if I am sitting with Rema aunty in the back! Fuel efficiency is Amma's number one priority in the car shopping. And she would prefer something from the old Maruti, currently Suzuki, stable. So we're kind of zeroing in on Maruti Dzire. It could be a while before the actual purchase happens.
The 'Dzire' spelling brings me to the incredible news that came out this afternoon that the government will automatically promote all students through all the classes all the way till 10th. No failures. So there is zero incentive to remember anything from the classes all the way up to 9th. Omana's son Achu is in 9th now. I haven't seen that kid touch a book ever.
This new system puts the responsibility back squarely with parents when it comes to making their kids learn. Secondly, this is great news for all the entrance coaching centers. We are still a few years away from having enough engineering and medical colleges to allow any illiterate young person with rich parents to become an engineer or a doctor. But till then, this system of no-exams till very late in life will ensure a mad rush to tuition and coaching centers starting from class X. This is a business opportunity I shouldn't regret missing later in life.
I know people who cleared 9th grade in the 1950s who can give any M.Phil and D. Lit holder of today a run for their money. Within 60 years of "Independent" planning, India has managed to come up with a system that'll easily produce illiterate folks who can get a 9th grade pass certificate! Only those with an enormous desire to learn will acquire anything resembling an education, others will learn to spell from billboards: Dzire!
In the evening, Achan and I went to watch "Marupacha" (oasis), the staging of a 1966 play by Prof. N. Krishna Pillai. The official inauguaration of the three day celebrations marking 95th birthday of the Professor took place in the N. Krishna Pillai memorial complex at 5:30pm. The building houses a library with 25,000 books and a museum. They run one drama troupe for adults and one for kids.
The mini-auditorium named after M.K.Joseph (who also has a pavilion at Chandrshekharan Nair stadium) in the building could seat around 200. The chief guest Jnanpith winner popular poet, Prof. O.N.V Kurup, ex-MP Paniyan Ravindran (who released the funds for the library), Minister for Cultural Affairs, Chief Secretary for Cultural Affairs were all promptly present. The only one missing was Dr. Shashi Tharoor, the elusive MP of Thiruvanathapuram. In the audience was veteran actor, Madhu, who right before the ceremony moved few rows back and sat next to one of the very few young ladies in the audience, thereby establishing firmly his alpha-male status.
In all the TV interviews where I frequently see him, Prof O.N.V Kurup appeared rather healthy for his 80 years. But today, seeing in real, it was clear that he walked with great difficulty. The healthy illusion from TV was because he is always seated like FDR.
Yet, so eloquently the man speaks. It is like Malayalam enjoys being delivered through him. The ceremony was to begin, as almost all ceremonies here begin, with the lighting of the lamp. Prof. Krishna Pillai's daughter, who looked eerily like the portrait of her father hung in the auditorium, was summoned to the dais for this task. She was given a smaller, hand-held lamp to light the big standing one. Suddenly much panic by the organizers to figure out how to turn off the fan which was making her task difficult. She would light a wick and by the time she got to the next one (there were a total of five), the first one would be blown out. In their hurry, couple of organizers managed to turn off all the lights and fans. Finally, a comprise situation of lighting only one wick was arrived upon.
After ONV and the chief secretary spoke, the task of entertaining the audience till Mr. Tharoor got to the venue fell upon Paniyan Ravindran. Thankfully, he is a terrific speaker. He spoke about the disappearance of drama as an effective medium of social change and seguayed into the great Malayalee alcohol addiction. He talked about boys from well to do families resorting to gold chain snatching to pay for alcohol. Petty shops in the city are now selling pan mixed with ground glass so that it cuts the mouth leading to faster high. He mentioned some folks resorting to intoxication by snake bites. The audience enjoyed when he provided the full forms for MP (=MadyaPaani=drunkard) and MLA(Madyam Lesham Akathakiyan=those who have had a couple of drinks).
Shashi Tharoor showed up one hour late and the organizer thanked him for coming right on time. Laughter. Mr. Tharoor busied himself talking to ONV beforing speaking for a minute in Malayalam and then launching into a short biographical sketch of Prof. Krishna Pillai in English. Then he inaugurated the new website on Krishna Pillai. He repeatedly apologized for being late as he had three events scheduled for 5:30 and another three for 6:30 to which he was hurrying. "Wrestlers are waiting for me," he said about the prize distribution he was supposed to attend at Kerala Wrestling Championship. I think he should get new personal staff who can do a better job of scheduling. It's pretty clear that he won't stand for elections next time. Subzero chance of winning even if his wife campaigns.
The ceremony was quickly wrapped up and the drama scheduled for 7pm started by 7:05.
Outstanding! I had never read or seen a play by Prof. Krishna Pillai and today I saw how he is no less than Ibsen or Steinbeck. And since the whole thing was in my mother-tongue, it hit even harder. The packed auditorium remained in pin drop silence broken only by sighs, laughs and more sighs. On stage, was life as almost everyone knew it. If not our own, it was easily someone we know closely.
The troupe had done a splendid job of editing the play down to an hour and fifteen minutes. The story line was simple. A loner husband, only caring about the status of his job, trapped in a loveless marriage with a woman who he resents for having cheated him into the marriage (she had her reasons). A bed ridden boy of theirs born with a birth defect (out-of-this world live voice-over by a 6 year old kid) whom the father refuses to see. Couple of instances of this dad's corrupt, uncaring ways. He wants no contact with his family and didn't even go for his own dad's funeral. An old friend who visits him leaves disappointed saying "You are the only one I know who became a fool through higher education!"
His older brother and wife come over from Malaya. Transformation of life forms rest of the play.
In 1966, Krishna Pillai wrote in two love marriages including an inter-religious one into the play. This is equivalent of a play today treating gay marriages casually. The dialogs were power packed. The kind that makes you gulp because you have heard them in real life, they have been in your thoughts and they are words that you have swallowed.
The older sister-in-law tells the younger one that the secret of successful marriage lies in three simple things: "a little sacrifice, a bit of wisdom and unwavering faith". The younger ones asks the older one to take her and the sick son away to Malaya so that she can spare the husband, who wants to be left alone, all the torture of their presence. The older one replies, "If you go, I guarantee you that this man who looks like a loveless, uncaring, loner will break apart without your presence, your consolation, your relationship" The audience enjoyed the break down when it came by and the subsequent happy ending.
This is a play that can easily be adapted into life of Indians in the USA.
All the actors were a bit aged for the characters they played. But their experience made the characters totally safe in their hands and faces. I think all the younger acting talent in the city are busy with television shows.
After the play, veteran actor Madhu was called to the stage to make a few remarks.
"Well, this is anticlimax," he began, "because nobody wants to hear someone blabber about a play they had all just now seen. But I want to say this. I had come here prepared to be a little bored. A play from 1966, I assumed, is bound to be heavily dialogue-oriented and dated. But this is a brilliant adaptation that left me wishing for more" Wild cheers from a satisfied audience who couldn't agree more.
I must get hold of a copy of the script to see how much it was edited and also to memorize a few of the brilliant lines. Next year, the troupe will be producing another of Krishna Pillai's play called Darshanam. Tomorrow, there is a staging of another play at the same venue but I will skip it. I plan to go there day after tomorrow for a performance of Kathakali!
Achan and I discussed the play for the whole 20-minute walk back home. This discussion was just as emotionally evocative as the drama.
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