Connect and disconnect (BH: D 312)

June 12, 2012

I meet at least a dozen people everyday these days. Most of them come into my cabin to sell something. Others come in because they want something. It is scale of the needs that is mind boggling.And these people exist side by side in the same city. They speak the same language and might even look very similar to a foreigner.

First in walks someone with a few hundred thousand rupees worth of equipment to sell. He is not alone. He has his own assistant tagging along.

We discuss the future of classrooms, the impending inevitable 'smart' revolution with 'remote' teaching. Perhaps Upanishads were taught remotely too from the Rishis who preferred staying up in the Himalayas but beamed themselves metaphysically in front of eager students.

A lot of 'ya-yas', 'absolutelys' and prolonged 'rights' pepper the meeting. Visiting cards are handed over reverentially with both hands perfectly as it must have been taught in some personality enhancement course, evening or weekend, for otherwise busy professionals. Firm shake hands to end the meeting.

The next visitor couldn't be any more different. Clad in a graying saffron, if such a thing is possible (well it is, I saw it!), lungi and a yellow silk shirt, dirtied from years of abuse, torn at the armpits and with four of the front buttons missing, he walks in.

"Saare, saaranallo ippo....?" (Sir, you are the now) substantiating that deeply philosophical statement with a swirl of the palm indicating the space 'here' to go with the 'now' (ippo) in his question.

I nod. Indeed, I am the now!

"lavan sheriyalla saare" (That guy is not good) He is not referring to Lavan, the son of Rama,

"levan?" (he who?) I ask

"ivide vellam ozhikanum kalayum vallom parikkanum nirthuthiyavan" (the one who is here to water and weed the lawns)

Ah! a staff rivalry! Again!

I remain mesmerized for the next few minutes at his expressions as he narrates a tale of the gross violation of professional ethics by the gardener. I manage to maintain a very serious expression. I shouldn't divulge that just yesterday I had heard a similar complaint about him from the 'lavan'. That all he does is switch on the water pump early in the morning and then walk around doing nothing the whole day!

He finishes up with a recommendation to summarily fire the 'lavan' and extend those duties also to his wife who is currently caring only the south-side lawns.

Obviously, she should be paid more for the added responsibility.

An amount that is less than half a percent of the sum that I had discussed in the earlier meeting for enhanced learning environment.

Priceless education!

Newsreaders (BH: D311)

June 11, 2012

An intense nostalgia is invoked when one hears a familiar TV newsreader's voice spill into the street from some home during a night stroll. Innumerable nights over the years come flooding back.

None of the news is remembered. They've always been something about politics that didn't matter in the long run. Not worth remembering. Yet memory seems to have preserved the doppler effect on a newsreader's voice when one walks by a home with an open window or an exceptionally loud TV.

Why is there so much attachment to these voices? Is it because they have invariably broken trains of fretting and frivolous thoughts? Were they the favorite refuge for a brain returning home tired from a day of education but remembering only snatches of breezy conversations? 

The newsreader voice distracts from the umpteen romantic re-imagining of conversations that were much too dry in real. Perhaps the unnatural nature of electronic reproduced sound from a distance triggers some alert.

It was Hemalatha's voice that broke into my consciousness. She has been reading news, as the teenagers say, like forever! I remember her marriage to fellow newsreader Kannan was a favorite bit of Thiruvananthapuram trivia in the early 90s.

It is Rajeshwari Mohan's voice that I remember the most. I wondered what happened to her. Googling told me that she won an award in 2007. I haven't seen her reading the news lately. 

Then there was Maya who migrated to private channels from the Doordarshan. Balakrishnan still sports thick, black hair and beard. His voice deep and clear as ever. 

Before the Malayalam newsreaders became popular, the entire nation had only the National channel's Hindi and English readers to watch. There was a particularly gloomy Sultana that I remember from the Hindi side. English stars were Rini Simon, Neeti Ravindran, Udaybir Sarandas, Minu Talwar, Sunit Tandon and so on. So many names I don't remember. Faces and voices, I do.

Waiting to see who the newsreader would be was itself a ritual at home in those days. News hardly mattered. Kids were instructed to look up to these celebrities to learn pronunciation. 

Nowadays, the abundance of channels have made sure that news, once again, doesn't matter. Unfortunately in the bargain, newsreaders too have lost!

Membership (BH:D310)

June 10, 2012

For the Sunday, Malayala Manorama decided to pay tribute to Palakkad Mani Iyer, the Mridangam maestro whose birth centenary falls on June 10. Three of his illustrious disciples including his son have written short, sweet notes remembering the legend of percussion.

A particular incident that stuck to memory is a concert in Mumbai which was disturbed by a local train chugging along in the nearby track. As soon as the locomotive passed, Mani Iyer recreated the vehicle's rhythm on the mridangam. The man was meticulous about choosing the wood and trees for the instrument. His dream of a sandal wood mridangam remained unfulfilled.

Mathrubhumi newspaper paid tribute to veteran ayurveda gem, P.A. Warrier of the Kottackal VaidyaShaala. The man is past 90 but still performs his duties clockwork. He credits his adherence to routine as the secret of good health. Waking up sharp at 3:45, by 8:15 he is at work. "It is like I have three kids," the physician says, "one of them, the hospital, earns me money while the other two, the school and the theater company drain me!" More days of good health and service to him.

The Hindu Sunday magazine reports about the still not research abundance of Buddha statues in a remote village near Tirchi. Headed and headless, there are a few of them that have become local deities called 'Buddha Sami'. It is believed that the ascetic Theravada Buddhism was popular in south India  till 7th century, but these remnants indicate strong presence of Mahayana sect with its superhuman Buddha image.

My little nephew first Sunday at home meant a steady stream of visitors all day. Relatives, friends, well wishers all. The morning session was packed with yet another edition of the 'Decline and Fall of the Nair caste." Just when I thought things can't get any dumber, there was a heady dose of astrology in the afternoon.

Delectable bamboo rice 'payasam' in between the unavoidable listening was the saving grace. to  Luckily Shri M showed up with family in the evening. Escaped with them to DC books.

Parking near Statue Junction is tight even on a Sunday. With a new car that is get a hang of the driver's habit it becomes even more difficult. Two squatters on a shop front, ardent observers of the city life that flows by especially if it wearing a saree, got the scare of their life when some American style 'less than a foot from the curb' parking was attempted.

Signed up for the DC membership which qualifies me for Rs. 300 worth of books every year, 20% discount on Malayalam and 12% discount on English books. Celebrated the entry into the club by getting discount on Malayattoor Ramakrishnan's Verukal and S.K. Pottakkad's 'Oru Deshathinte Katha', both classics worth possessing. 

Tholpavakoothu (BH:D309)

June 9, 2012

Read in the Hindu Metroplus that Lakshmana Pulava's troupe would be performing Tholpavakoothu (leather puppet play) at Vyllopilli Samskriti Bhavan this evening. Showed up by 6pm.

Mr. Pulava was getting ready behind the stage. He had a couple of minutes to spare.

"Are these leather?" I opened with an ignorant question pointing to the numerous 2D puppets lying on the stage floor as if resting before their show.

"Yes. It used to be deer skin in the past. Now we use ox skin."

"I see that they are intricately colored. Will that been seen in the shadow?"

"Yes. Deep skin was very thick. Ox skin shows the color more prominently in the light of the oil lamps."

20 oil lamps were being prepared behind the white screen atop the black stage  separator.

"How many are in the troupe?"

"There are eight of us."

"What kind of music do you play?"

"Traditional music is used."

"Are there standard songs for the puppet play?"

"Yes, we have. Several of them based on the Kamba Ramayana."

"What is the story today?"

"We'll do a quick Ramayana in 1 hour 15 minutes featuring some interesting episodes."

"I am glad I came for the show. I read about it this afternoon in the Hindu."

"I am glad there is publicity. When we performed in 2008, there was virtually no audience."

"How regular are your shows?"

"We do shows frequently in temples of Palakkad Shornur area."

Later in the introduction, he mentions that 108 temples have regular shows. The legend goes that since Goddess Bhadra Kali was fighting Darikan at the same time as the battle of Ramayana, she missed it. So Shiva ordered the performance of the puppet show so that the Goddess can know the full story.

The performance was a heart warming spectacle. The language was a curious mix of Tamil stylized Malayalam, sort of the one Kamalhassan's cook character speaks in Michael Madanakamarajan. 80% of the singing and dialogues sounded improvised. The puppeteers were astounding in pulling off a perfectly timed show that included plenty of fireworks, literally.

We had a full house and plenty of kids. The fact that the show thoroughly amused the kids in the age of cartoon network speaks volumes of the quality of real life animation pulled off by these artists. 

Since I haven't read Kamba's Ramayana, some of the episodes intrigued me.   Ravana in this version carries of Sita along with the hut, there was no concept of Lakshamana's famous line. Maricha tells Ravana that they'll meet after death even before he sets off on his mission. Soorpanakha has an original grudge against Rama. Hanuman defiles Ravana's wife to initiate a curse that predicted Ravana's death soon after his wife is dishonored. 

The dialogues in the Bali-Sugrava fight was genuinely funny. A jester character called "Kudakkaran" (umbrella holder) was introduced in Ravana's court scene. Some hilarious lines for him. Apparently he has invented some new Raagas in Carnatic music named 'Kettalodi", "Kazhutha kamboji" and "Manampurattal" There was even a full fledged folk song thrown into the performance.  Wonderful experience.

Yesterday, I visited the famous Technopark campus for the first time. Dived into the basement of one of the enormous concrete cuboid that finds little redemption in being named Tejaswini. First hand experience of one of the young, techie India's original sanctuaries. None of the city's major garbage problem seems to have come inside these gates.

Section 144 has been declared in the city and garbage dumping is now a criminal offense. A move that comes mostly because the mayor herself has caught fever. If only the mosquitoes knew to spare the corrupt!

World Archives Day today. The 'Mathilakom' records of Padmanabhaswamy temple dating from 1305 AD are being digitized. 30,000 palm leaf "churanas" each with 1000 records. Stupendous task. Thiruvananthapuram will get two new museums soon. Signature museum featuring samples of famous signatures and Freedom Struggle museum. 

Hamlet Breakfast (BH:D 307)

June 7, 2012

Witnessed a sunrise over the distant misty faint Western Ghats this morning. Gorgeous. A view comparable to that I had from the Ayur resort at Munnar. Except this one is just 13 km away from home.

I have become a regular through 'remote' villages just out of the way from the city. Stopped by 'Devi Hotel' in one such hamlet for breakfast. 'Puttu' and 'Appam' were on offer. We decided to order both and split along with tea.

White tubes of 'puttu' look like hefty degrees handed out by KKK if they have a graduation ceremony. The watery brownness of the 'kadala' curry was enough for us to decide on ordering egg roast instead. Egg roast, the national dish of Kerala according to Vir Sanghvi. 

I paid no attention to the taste. Not simply because a police constable was eating next to me. Even the other customers were equally interesting. Couple of them left in a huff cursing the owner who doubled as the server for the delay. "Nammal ravile jyolikku ponoranu...kaathirakkan onnum pattula" (We are laborers who need to get to work in the morning...we can't wait!) they cursed while leaving. 

An old man on the bench across from us, chewing on his appam, was fascinated by the array of gadgets Saiju produced from his pocket. The "chechi", the lady of the hotel, which I presume doubles as their home as well, busied herself with spreading new appams and de-tunneling 'puttu' from the tube. 

It is only when tea was delivered that we realized that the wiry, 30 something gentleman with a prominent red streak on the forehead, attesting his early morning temple visit, was the designated server. Breakfast seems to be a perk. With his rejoining the duty, the owner went back to the billing front table. Breakfast for two for Rs. 65.

In the afternoon, showed up at the bank to withdraw a transfer done to my account. It was 3pm. The cashier lady showed signs of unease which looked ready to spawn panic. I was carrying no gun and double checked my reflection on the glass window to ensure that I wasn't looking sinister. She leaned over to the next counter and said, "madam, kashu theernu!" (Madam, there's no more cash)

The "madam" mentioned above took a look at the screen, the drawers of the worried cashier and my withdrawal slip. "Ravile oru withdrawal undayirunnu. athukondu ippo ithrayum kashundo ennariyila. akathu nokkanam!" (We had another withdrawal this morning. So I don't know if we have this much cash. Need to check inside) Madam was apologetic. Never before in my life had I made a bank run out of money! Win!

Lest it be adequately 'big to fail', I told them that I can come back tomorrow. At that exact moment, it dawned on the cashier that her table has one more drawer. Out it came revealing another bundle of 500s. Couple of whirrings of the counting machine and my eternal dream of collapsing a bank got postponed...yet again!

Got a few minutes to myself this afternoon. Read a couple of Art Buchwald pieces. One titled 'News on the beach' from 1974 is priceless. Having a spouse with a sense of humor seems like a pretty good reason for marriage....perhaps it will be the only reason in the end!

The March of the Monsoons (BH:D305)

June 5, 2012

Woke up to a loud crashing sound this morning. 4:25am. Assumed the tarpaulin temporary structure erected outside near the kitchen to boil water for the baby and new mom had collapsed. Like all assumptions, it was no way near the reality.

A Jackfruit branch heavy with 5 super-size fruits had torn off the main trunk. It  hung precariously from the electricity cables coming into the house. Watchman pressed into operation. Wearing rubber slippers he goes about hacking the branches till the main branch is light enough to be lifted off and grounded. The front of the house looks like a orgy of goats who have food fetish.

While riding to campus, small talk with the young driver. He works part time in the bread factory near by. If 7 hours from 5pm to 12 midnight can be called part time.

"How much do you pack in that time?"

"We are six guys. We go around 2500 packets. Usually the production that happens during the day is according to the orders received. So that number is no fixed."

"How much do you get paid?"

"300 as daily wages and extra for each pack."

"At what rate?"

"33 paise per packet"

Easy calculation to see that he makes more money from that job that his day job.

"How far have you studied?"

"B.A...in Malayalam"

"Where?"

"University College"

"Do you have the degree?"

"No, didn't clear one final year paper."

"Which one?"

"English."

"Are you planning to write it?"

"It's been three years. My father is not well enough to work. So I have to support the family."

Breadwinner, the word floated to mind. Not a good joke.

I have been noticing small trucks and carrier autorickshaws laden with jackfruits on this road mostly because we get stuck behind them in slow moving traffic. I try hard not to let this visual bring back the image of aunties pushing their way into marriage feast hall. I wondered aloud where all these jackfruits were taken.

"The bakeries in the city supply them to the homes in this area. Housewives get Rs. 10 for cleaning up one fruit and chopping it up ready to be made into jackfruit chips."

When Malayalees encounter the frequent classic example of the much studied unscientific phenomenon of 'Synchronicity', they usually remark, "Paranju naakku vayilottu itilla" which literally translates to "As soon as I had put my tongue back in the mouth after saying" meaning something happened unexpectedly right after it was mentioned.

I don't know  why we continue to insist that we speak with our tongues coming out of the mouth. And I wonder if there is an equivalent saying about thoughts and thinking. You know like 'as soon as I had put the thought back into my memory' or 'as soon as I had put the conscious mind back into the unconscious.' Anyways, as soon as I had finished reflecting how hot and stuffy the afternoon is, Sharath B shared a tweet with a link to Reuters saying that monsoon has arrived to southern Kerala.

Sure enough I was sitting in southern Kerala. I can see the green carpet stretching over the plains surrounding the southern tip of the Western Ghats through the window. Sure enough there was no rain.

But then...there...at the farthest edge of the horizon...at the optically technical infinity....it was all grey.

The sky painter's blue brush had run dry and dull at those limits. They were coming slow and steady. The winds of Hippalus that brought with them cultural multitudes to the shores of this land.

Glacial pace of the life affirming pregnant grey. It will be night before it gets here.

Chalamy's birthday today. Been part of that cake cutting for many years. But only while flipping through the Deccan Chroncile while waiting at the Cafe Coffee Day did I come to know that he shares his birthday with Rambha!

Back to School (BH: D304)

June 4, 2012

330,000 young ones made their way to first day of first standard today in Kerala. Yet another school year begins. I wish they would all become first class students. Luckily, the monsoons have been delayed for a couple of days from full fledged onslaught. But lack of rain wasn't much relief from the horrendous traffic situation. 

For some reason, all the major schools in the city are either located right on the main road or in rather narrow inroads where it is nearly impossible for two vehicles to pass each other. Nobody made it to time for any appointment this morning. First hand experience for me in front of a nursery at Jawahar Nagar. Particularly bad since parents will the largest vehicles in the city send their kids to school there.

At the lower primary school near Nemom, band music greets the young ones. Government school fees stand at free to Rs. 16 compared to Rs 16,000 and upwards in private schools. No questions asked about which products eventually form guiding policies for the whole nation.

I have also been in back to school mode in the past few days. But it is a school that is being created as we go along. It is a priceless experience getting into planning, laying down and implementing long term vision for a new engineering college that aspires to be a university eventually.

Since the freshmen (and women) of this college currently wear uniforms, the 'back to school' feeling is rather strong. It is an all-consuming, totally enjoyable gig! Oh and I get a spectacular view of the green carpet of tree tops that covers the plains around the southern tip of the Western Ghats.

My little nephew had his back to home experience from the hospital. For the whole weekend, I got to observe firsthand tonnes of stuff learnt from latest evolution and anthropology books. My brother-in-law loves it when folks tell him that the baby looks just like him. The baby for his part apparently behaves just as his dad did in his first few days on the planet, with two fingers of the left hand in the mouth and the index finger of the right in his ear. 

He assumes a deeply thoughtful expression when he craps. Do babies come ready for MBA these days?!