Old tales - The rishi and the cat

I am startng a new topic series, the name of which just came to my mind after a conversation with my mama (amma's brother) during the wait at the hospital. The topic  of discussion was "rituals in religion" and we both were arguing despite agreeing with each other(you think that is not possible, come see us arguing). so here goes the first tale in this series of old tales and stories. 

DISCLAIMER: I am not taking lessons in moral science or decrying any religion or faith or beliefs, so please just ensure that you drink a a good quantity of sense of humor before starting to read

Long long ago, very long ago, so long ago, nobody knows how long ago,  a very well versed rishi went from village to village along with his travelling students. The rishi  worshipped the fire god thrice a day and would spend time lovingly preparing the agnihotram(altar/fire pit), pouring ghee(clarified butter) and other offerings into the sacrificial fires. After his "personal" devotion he would impart wisdom to his students and also the villages who had gathered to have his darshan. Thus ran his routine, until they came to this village. Unfortunately the village's name is lost in history and poor translation. As was his wont, the rishi prepared the agni hotram, decorated it with rice flour and flowers which the villagers had brought and amidst vedic chants, lighted the fire when suddenly a cat bounded across the agni hotram disturbing the floral arrangements. He kept his patience and rearranged the agni hotram, when the cat bounded across again. This kept repeating a few times when the rishi paused his worship badly distracted and sought his disciples. The whole gathering was waiting some distance away not wanting to disturb his communion with the LORD of the GODS. The rishi called out to one of his disciples - Ananda! Ananda!  please tie up this cat some where far away from here, but release it after my puja. The villagers noticed Ananda tying  the cat behind the hut to a heavy stone mortar. Tis was the monsoons and the rishi would wait in the village for some time for the monsoon to end and everyday the villages would notice Ananda dutifully tie the cat to the stone mortar before the rishi began the puja. The villagers simple folks as they were did not understand the significance of the cat, the stone mortar and the ritual of tying the two together. Now stone mortars were a dozen for an anna (old Indian coin) where as cats were.... thats another story in economics. The demand for cats went up, people bought cats for the ritual of tying it up before the rishi started his puja. They would tie the cat at the mortars in their home and gather under the banyan tree near the rishi's ashram. Ananda dutifully ensured that his guru(preceptor's) communion with GOD was not disturbed. Through out the monsoon the villagers tied up cats and the rishi went about his business with GOD. The rains stopped, the rishi blessed the villagers and left on his further travels. Nobody knew what happend to him after that since he never passed by again. Nevertheless, the villagers learning by what they saw continued the ritual of "tie the cat before the puja". Soon enough, the actual purpose of the puja was lost, but "RELIGIOUSLY" cats were tied up to stone mortars. Then marketing and sales took over. Portable mortars and puja-only cats flooded the market.

I swung on a swing - after a long time

Twas a fine wintery sunny afternoon on the Sunday, the 18th of November 2012, My infants terrible made staying at home unbearable and we wanted to go out, the usual places were cut out since the city had decided to go to sleep( Dont know for how much longer). The city going to sleep was a blessing in disguise and the best half asked me to consider other options - long drive, go to a park/garden, Indian fast food stroll (still cannot bring myself to call it junk food), go for a walk in the pleasant afternoon sun. Long drive was thrown outside the window, fast food stroll also went flying out. Was left to make a choice from two options, we decided to go to Empress garden. My son, Prataparudhra loves the place since it is not very crowded, there are numerous slides to enjoy, a couple of rides he likes; all in all he goes bonkers. Tara, my daughter likes anything outside the house since it is all new experiences. Padma, My best half likes to step out and stroll without having to worry about the kids since I am now in-charge of their well being in the public place. 

       A fine park, lot of sun and shade and my son playing the slides again and again and again. I picked my li'l girl and looked around and at a distance I saw a vine hanging down forming a huge "U". In my mind a desire germinated. The grey cells started working overtime to bring back memories- memories of... Aage ki kahani break ke baad.

      A couple of hours passed and we were nearing the time when the park would close, I put my now sleeping Tara in the pram and went near the slide where Prataparudhra was playing and asked him - shall we go home? He as usual says Appa! One last time and he runs the slides a few times more- last time is usually relative. A few minutes later instead of the straight line towards the car park, I pushed the pram on a detour. Padma asks me "whats up!!!?" I dont answer and I move decidedly towards the vine hanging in the shape of a "U". The hanging vine brought back memories of childhood when I used to hang by low hanging branches of tamarind trees, of demolishing amma's sarees using which we used  to make swings. Of running our of reach when she came at me with the broom or ladle whatever was handy -but most of all it brought back memories of swinging into the blue sky and back, every time I swung down and back, it was always with the knowledge that I will be swing back and up into the blue sky and the sun rays kissing my face. Memories of then true freedom and bravado without a care in the world. 

     I came out of my reminiscence when I reached the vine, I stopped the pram, applied the brakes and went to the vine, sat on it and swung. I swung higher and faster feeling the pure bliss. The BLISS of a child all over again and again. Padma did not stop me or even asked "how much longer", she just waited for me to stop and get off the vine. After a few minutes passed,  I stopped and got off. As soon as I got off, Padma hopped on to it and she swung. She was radiating happiness when she got of the vine. I hopped on again and swung at a leisurely pace. By now a crowd had gathered to see the sight of a grown up swinging from a tree vine. I ignored the glances. some dis-approving, some nodding, some waiting wistfully. I could not bring myself to get of the vine and become a responsibility burdened individual again.  Swing and swing free was all that was going in my mind. By now dusk was advancing and Tara was fidgeting in the pram. The security fella came over gave me some verbal advice against behaving "childishly" and sent me off towards the car park. The swinging from the vine reminded me that R L Stevenson wrote a poem on that topic. We reached home and I first browsed my books collections to see if I have the poem. This poem was part of my English syllabi during school. I searched in vain for the text when Padma asked me "why don't you search the internet instead of mopping the floor?" OK sound advice and I found the poem which for you dear reader, I have pasted below.

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside--

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown--
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down! 

-Robert Louis Stevenson

 

Desire can lead to embarassment

Since a few days, I was drawn to images of a particular watch from the handicraft watch works of Ulysse Nardin. To be sure I did not hear of this watch maker before. The watch under the name El Toro was very exquisitely designed and the more I saw it the more I wanted it, but I was not sure of the brand. Little did I know that I was worried about the wrong thing.

The first thing that caught my eye was the blue leather strap. That itself should have indicated the beauty's worth. But no, the mind would not accept, I was still thinking I can buy this. The second feature that kindled my desire was the "automatic"or self-winding mechanism. I dont know why, but I am enamoured by such watches and I already posses two automatic watches. Any way back to El Toro, the exquisite desire of mine. My best half saw me a couple of times drooling over the images. She suggested "lets procure the desire". And then we started speculating how much would the desire set us back. I very very confidently(idiot) put a cap saying that it would not cost us more than thirty thousand Indian rupees. The Universe which usually conspires to make me happy must have been dancing in mirth thinking "this dhakkan deserves this." And then I checked which store in Pune stocks this - C T Pundole is an excellent watch store and the sales people know the stuff they peddle. Anyway I thought, if tis CT Pundole selling, I can walk with the magazine image and ask straight without any hassle. So I walked in and was accosted by a smiling cherubic sales person who cheerfully asked me what do I desire. I showed the print and he exclaimed aah! We dont stock this, we procure on demand only. My heart sank into the ground. This could only mean my pocket was not deep or colloquially speaking - mere paas chaddi nahin thi". But still, I would not give up, let me ask for the price, just might be possible that it would not be very expensive(Universe started dancing again). The cherub of a sales chap, took the magazine print from me, disappeared somewhere asking me to wait. I waited with abated breath(one of my friends would say balls in the mouth) hoping against the universe. A few minutes which seemed an eon passed and the cherub came near me with an embarrassed look and whispered in my ears in hindi - sir aaa. aa, aa,a 15 laakh hoga. I felt the world go still as my jaw dropped, and this time I could see the universe dancing. I was covered in red shame, embarrassed beyond redemption. I shuffled as fast I could out of CT Pundole. I felt as if everyone there were looking at me and laughing at me (as if they had nothing better to do). My best half followed me sedately tugging my son and carrying my daughter along. We got in the car. I drove home towards home in stony silence. My best half made some tea and then as I sipped the tea, I went over all that happened and just burst out laughing and then I could not stop laughing. I would have gone on a laughing spree if this were to happen to anybody else. But when it happened with me, I went through embarrassment, then indignation and then and only then could I get to the laugh at myself stage. Each time I went over it, I would end up laughing at me. Someday I would raise my chaddi high enough to get an El Toro, but would I want it then. I will let "SAMAY" answer that doubt.

Incident of the Pharmacist/Chemist

My son falls sick and so we go to the doc, doc prescribes syrups. So far so good. Son throws up everything he eats or drinks. I Call the doctor who prescribes ONDEM syrup to prevent throwing up. This is where the fun begins  

I rush to the pharmacist- the air is hot and fetid and a couple of fans are whirring. These fans played a very important role in my life today.

Me: Ek ONDEM. dena (Give me an ONDEM)

Pharmacisit : (whips up a box) "kitne Chahiye" (How many do you need) 

Me: (Confused) Bas Ek (only one).

Pharmacist: Passes me flat box

Me: (without paying attention) Syrup nahi hai kya (Dont you have the syrup)

Pharmacist: kaunsa flavour (which flavour?)

Flavour bloody hell - what flavor for a medicine which prevents throwing up your guts. 

Me: Now still confused (i am still not paying attention to the box in my hand) - kitne flavour mein aate hain (how many flavours does it come in)

Pharmacist: Shows me three different boxes 

Me: (Shocked)  I check the box in my hand. Oh! Lord of all Gods!!! 

This dhakkan of a (fool of a) pharmacist understood me totally wrong. I asked for ONDEM , he heard CONDEM and had passed me a pack of "Moods"

Bloody hell verbal communication sucks.

A dad is born... Again

Life has come a full circle in a short span of 5 years (boy it does seem a long time) when I got married to Paddu, whom I came to knowing only after the marriage was fixed (typical Indian style) and we had no definitive detailed plans of the future. The first transformation in our lives was when I was reborn as a dad (please read the first "a dad is born") and four years later I am born again as a dad. I thought that things would be different this time now that I have experience. But always the Universe conspired against me to make me happy in its own way. The waiting filled the time for the last few days. In anticipation of our second child, I finally stopped procrastinating and bought a car without knowing how to drive it. so off to car driving school to fill that competency gap. Then in the last month of pregnancy, I drop Paddu, my best half and

Prataparudhra, the apple of my eye at her mother's home in Mumbai while I stayed put in Pune. Please trust me this was her decision. I did not decide that. I fought that decision of hers, but like always she could win me over with impeccable logic-tis warmer in Mumbai during the winter months. My son is excited that he would get a baby brother(Could not understand why not sister?). Maire my colleague and friend wagers that because of all my sins in this birth, I will be blessed with another boy who will also make me dance to his tunes. The good doctor advices Caesarian again. But this time we have the luxury of deciding dates and this was a bad luxury as it turned out since the universe again conspired to rip apart our perfect plan for a birth on a perfect date (by the alignment of stars and planets). The doctor could not fit on said date and gave us 7th Jan 2012 as an option. By this time I had enough of star, planetary alignment from every other quack-anstronomers and their dog that I said YES. 7th is good. So  drive  down to Mumbai on my classic 500. You can start sniggering. The ass has a car and he went by motorcycle. You see sniggering people, this was a reconnaissance trip to learn the route from my home to my in-laws' home and Mumbai being what it is, a mayhem of people, I ventured to go by bike. I get my Paddu admitted in hospital and Through the evening and into the night I kept reassuring my son that Mamma is alright, she will be coming home soon, you will be taking care of the new baby and all the bullshit. I guess he realized that too because he said, take me with you to the hospital and promptly went to sleep. Then dawn came rosy cheeked and awoke me. I get ready and go to the hospital and wait for the doc.

1. The anesthesiologist comes 

2. The doctor comes.

3. my best half is rolled into the OT

4. The door is shut on my face. The good doctor refuses to let me stand

in the OT and after some time the pediatrician goes into the OT.

5. I grab 40 winks when I hear a new born baby's banshee scream

6. I run to the OT door waiting expectantly with my in-laws thinking the door would open now and I will get a bundle of joy in my hands.

7. Bloody universe still conspiring.

8. Not knowing what to do, I start to bang my head rhythmically on the door hoping then at least some on will take notice that people are awaiting, but none of this could melt their heart of stone.

9. All this time I could hear the baby screaming and screaming.

10. 50 Minutes later, the door opens and a nurse comes out to say - pay the anesthesiologist. I draw my last reserves of patience and ask in a rising crescendo how is the mother, how is the baby. Is it a boy or girl? Thank you very much. 

11. The good anesthesiologist comes out and tells us- baby girl, mom and baby are fine. We have a princess. We have a princess. Prataparudhra would be disappointed, but he would come over it.

After the euphoria settled, I went in search of the nurse who was the target of my anger and apologized, the arrival of my princess will not be marred by anger and hard feelings. The pediatrician comes to us gives us the baby stats. I thank her profusely and look at her expectantly like a little boy standing in the line for candy. She sees me and tells me to go in and pick my princess. I did not need to be told again. I ran in and took the little bundle which packs a whopping amount of joy and she yawned, she yawned in my hands. That did it and the dam broke and I let the tears of joy flow. Flow I said, na they were running like the godavari and krishna rivers and would not stop.My in laws were now used to seeing me with my eyes running rivers. I put her gently on the bed and kept staring at her. She opened her eyes, saw me(:P saw me) and went back to sleep again. I crooned some thing to her, tucked her wrap around her as she slept

This is not exactly the best of a post rather it is just rambling running thoughts that are still running through my mind.
So what will we name her -
This time my paddu did not let me choose names from History, so I turned to faith and belief in the hindu pantheon of goddesses and came up with two names; one starting with K and the other with T. We ran into a disagreement with regards to the name and so we are doing a blind voting  with the members of the family. Dear reader, I will come up with the name which won through the voting. 


8Th jan 2012:
the voting results are out. "T" won hands down. The universe conspired against us to make us happy yet again. So what is the name we chos? This is my blog and I will script it out my way. I looked at history again to give me a name for my princess and a princess needs a queenly name, but paddu stumps me and says "why not a godly name" so I fall back on my second object of intense reading, Ancient Indian thought and philosophy. This sphere of reading took me not just through Indian philosophy, but also Tibetan and Mahayana philosophy. I felt that since my super god is Lord Rudhra after whom I named my Son, I will name my daughter after my super godess, the MOTHER. By this time I had read Aghora by Dr. Svaboda quite a few times and two names stuck out as a strong affliation to the great MOTHER- Kundalini and Tara. The voting decided Tara as the name. The goddess Chinna Mastha Smashana Tara is the great mother who directs the soul towards moksha or oneness with GOD. So my princess will henceforth be called Tara after the great MOTHER.


Cheers

Much ado about Coffee

Yesterday's Sunday eye of the Indian Express carried an article about Tea where the author boasted that coffee is just to pass the time where as tea is a culture or something like that. My first reaction as a tambrahm was indignation and then a ruthless articulation "what would a person north of the Godavari know about Coffee". But then again I thought over my words and pitied me over my indignation. The author was right about how I make tea. Just pile on everything and bring to a boil, strain and pour out in cups. I thank you sir for helping me know my ignorance in making tea. But when coming to making coffee, that for me is religion. Lovingly wash the filter (not your electrical contraption), a simple stainless steel affair which resembles a mini grain silo. Heat the strainer gently to clear the holes, dole out coffee powder measured to the last grain and tamp it gently. pour boiling water into it and let it drain through the filter. That my dear friends is how my day starts. My God in his pooja room has to wait till I finish this ritual first (I found god even in coffee, so that he could not complain). The next step in making coffee is pouring milk and sugar. How much milk and how much sugar. well that depends on how much coffee you would want to drink My first tumbler of the day is 200ML (Yes I measured it). Pour a little decoction/dikashan) from the filter (it should be still warm), taste a little (should taste like dark choclate, not dairy maik). Pour milk and the liquid mixture should turn from sepia to a shade darker than beige. Add sugar (not to make it sticky sweet). The flavor of coffee is bitter-sweet not sweet-very sweet-sticky sweet. Then add a little more decoction to bring the color to a shade of brown which resembles dark and white chocolate mixed in equal ratio. Mind you please use fresh hot milk not reheated milk. The contraption in my office dispenses with this need, the milk is just plain dispensed. Pour it out in a broad tumbler, pick up a book and over to my study where I spend half hour with coffee and text. I would have enjoyed a smoke along with that but dear best-half had ensured that I never smoked at home (thankful for that injunction) and I also quit smoking. The thing about the first tumbler of coffee for me is the cool air around me, the very bitter-less sweet taste of coffee takes me to the seventh heaven riding on the ninth cloud, breathing in the quintessence of coffee. During the time I spend with my morning coffee, I am left undisturbed by my son and best half. After marriage my best half understood my love for coffee and undertook to make my morning coffee. She like the author in Sunday Eye was a tea aficionado and was not particularly interested in coffee. In the beginning I was ungratefully critical of the output, but she put in patient effort to make it right every day and every time. Looking back I regret all the criticism I heaped on her earlier efforts . She now makes excellent coffee which I cannot find fault with. I was gifted an electrical percolator for our wedding which I use for mixing with my favorite poison - dark rum. But my morning coffee will never be insulted by being made in this contraption. I have drunk coffee at establishments like cafe coffee day, Costa, Barista and such. They can brew different coffee from aroun the world but still they would be fish out of water if they attempt a tambrahm coffee. They cannot and will not be able to match the exacting standards of Saravana Bhavan in Chennai or the erstwhile Gayatri hotel (Sob sob sob) in Hyderabad or Bombay Anand Bhavan in Secunderabad when it comes to making a tambrahm coffee.

Recommendations

Movie with coffee: Jim jarmusch's coffee and cigarettes

Book with Coffee: R K Narayan's Dateless diary especially the section which covers black and white (humph!) coffee

Liquor with coffee: Dark Rum (Old monk and especially contessa)

Pondering with Coffee: Don't ponder. Enjoy the quintessences of coffee

Music with coffee: M S Subbalaxmi/D K Pattammal, Pt. Jasraj, Vivaldi's Four seasons, Carmina Burana O Furtuna, William Tell. 

Best Company to spend coffee time: Who else but the person with whom you want to spend the rest of your life.

What coffee not to have - Any instant coffee.

Coffee powder to water ration: 3 tbsps coffee tamped and pour 150-200 ml of boiling water in the filter. If the decoction has not strained in 15-20 minutes. you have tamped too hard. poke with a fork gently so as to not distrub the coffee and water standing in the filter.

NOTE: I am grateful to the Muslim saint Baba Buden ( I am not sure of the spelling, so please forgive my ignorance) for bringing coffee to India and my parents for starting me on coffee when I was quite young.

The day I almost met the Dalai Lama

A couple of days back I was watching two day old episodes of the food series - Master Chef Australia when lo and behold, I get to see the Dalai Lama which made me nostalgic and reminiscence about the past.  

Tis was 1997 and I was just out of college, job less, self-respect had reached the nadir, my worth in societal eyes was zero and I learnt from The Hindu that the Dalai Lama would be coming to Hyderabad for the installation of the massive Buddha statue.It later transpired that he did not consecrate the statue (that happened much later in this post). I read about the Dalai Lama a few day earlier in the Reader's Digest magazine and was much impressed by his fight against the Chinese. He is also one of the reasons why I have some respect for Nehru. When the Dalai Lama rode into India, Nehru gave him sanctuary much against the political wisdom of those times. Some say this act of Nehru ensured the Sino-India war actually took place. I have neither the information nor the bias to say anything about that war. Anyway back to the Dalai Lama. I wanted to see the Dalai Lama when he came to Hyderabad. Now to do that I needed some transport money and hence went to ask my amma and she ticked me off with a good word lashing. Any way, I managed to sneak out old newspapers, sold them for the fare and went to see the Dalai Lama. Murphy ensured that "everything goes wrong". I took the wrong bus, went to the wrong place and trudged 4 Kms to see the Dalai lama and by the time I reached the venue, the Dalai Lama had left. On the journey back home, disappointed and weary with thirst, I pondered on why I wanted to see him. What did I hope to achieve. I still am pondering. Fast forward to 2nd January 2006, the Dalai Lama was going to consecrate the Buddha statue. This time I was not in hell's hole. I was earning comfortably and was the master of my ship. I booked myself on a bus from Pune to Hyderabad on 30th December 2005, put an action plan to meet the seer and was quite happy with  the thought that I was going to meet the Dalai Lama. On D-Day I left home early (my mom didn't bother asking where was I off to) so that I could grab a good place. Reaching the venue, I noticed it was filled with people, careful probing and questioning revealed that most of them were "babus" who were to ensure that protocol was not breached. Whose protocol I still am not sure. Anyway I sat myself down and waited, waited, waited and then I got a glimpse of the seer. I tried to nudge closer but the security personnel ensured that I did not breach protocol. I moved slightly away, managed to get closer to the cordon, close enough to touch him and waited with abated breath. Then I managed to go into a time warp and ponder "why am I doing this?". I finally got out of the warp with the realization that it was just a whim. By the time the warp closed, the Dalai Lama was on the boat going towards the statue. 

Back to 2011 and Master chef Australia. The cooking was good, The seer did exactly as seers do-bless everyone and everything and I am still pondering why did I want to meet the Dalai Lama

Anthology of two wheels

I belong to an age where possessing a cycle was a sign of prosperity. Back then to be called really rich  - one had to posses a car; one of the two models, the aunty (Ambassador) or the kid (Premier padmini). Two wheelers were a rarity on the roads and then again most of them were either a 50cc affair or a bajaj scooter. Appa then bought a 50cc affair called the TVS50 XL model.                          

TVS is to South india what Bajaj was for the north of the Godavari river. Looking at the image today I wonder how the four of us fit on to it and zoomed around. Time flowed and appa bought me a bicycle - not your fancy multi-geared multi colored contraption. A simple device which took me from point A to point B. Through junior college and sometime after I was pedaling away or most times to save energy held onto locking chains hanging from the rear of any truck or turn goofy and hold a friend's hand who was riding pillion on a scooter. Race against smoke spewing buses (if you don't want the smoke in your face, you have to rush past) 

Children today would look at this and exclaim - "But this has nothing in it to provide an experience". I don't want to sound a reverse snob, but in our times we defined experience by our effort and not dictated by a contraption. Hummpppphhhh!!!. Signs of modernity I suppose. The mills of the gods grind at a very slow pace and appa procured through jugaad a Bajaj Scooter. Rahul Bajaj supposedly grinned at slow pace of production and arrogantly exclaimed that the people of India will wait for their scooter. I have been assured many times that this is an urban legend. You dear reader can decide what to believe. I care two toots of my bikes horn for the sordid details.

 

And don't even start asking about colors. Looked like Mr. Bajaj took his color lessons from Mr. Henry Ford. Back then nobody really cared about colors what with the dirty green buses operated by the state government or the black or white amby or padmini which  an occasional imaginative and resourceful person would get them painted in garish colors. Mind you we were still a two wheeler income family. A car was still out of our measly range. (Dear reader, don't start and tell me that most families are still so. Stop grudging my hard work and efforts to get out of that range).  But scooter compared better to a TVS 50 on the social scale. And a Bajaj chetak signaled that you have arrived. People would envy you as you zoomed;well actually trudged along the roads. Appa was never confident of driving fast and the roads ensured that you do not even think about speed. I coined my first gem at this time - the shortest distance between two pot holes is called a road. Around this time we did not even stop to think that there might be other two wheelers on the road, but mind you they were there. Not making a mark but still successfully transporting people - The Bajaj-M80 is the first zip drive(not your pants zip or storage devices) I can think of. Then there were others like  Enfield Mofa (I bet dear reader you are trying to figure the wheels) Hero majestic, Kinetic Luna, Silver plus and a lot more.

Some pictures

Bajaj M80	Hero Majestic
Kinetic Luna
Enfield Mofa- Touted 90KMpL	Enfield Silver plus. A teenager's desire

As you see not much of a choice among bikes even in dreams. The mills of the gods kept turning and in one stroke I saw something which altered my choices and hence even dreams. - MOTORCYCLES - another few years from now we will stop seeing the likes of such. Rajdoot, mini rajdoot, Jawa, yezdi (names which make me drool in anticipation) Just riding pillion on one of these was a cathartic effect. Once we went to Chennai to my uncle's place and I saw the real first love of my life - A jawa motorcycle - ooooooh! the  chrome, the thump of its engine and everything enthralled me. 

Its gear lever doubling up as the kick-start for the bike, the big mud-flaps et al made it an object of desire. My uncle took me on a ride on the bike and I was head over heels on the sounds she made. Rev high, go on a high gear and let go of the accelarator and the sound would be like buuuddd!!!zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!Buhd and then again the same sequence till you hit the accelarator again. 

The Rajdoot	The mini-rajdoot made popular by  the movie - Bobby

Now these beauties on the road were there long before I was as tall as them and so driving one was out of question. I moved into my teens and there were a couple of more brands on the roads and suddenly the roads were teeming with two wheelers. The age of transport-migration had begun. Leading the brand pack were there - Yamaha RX100, TVS Suzuki and Hero Honda CD100. We had television at home by now and a color tv at that-the brand is long lost and was called Binatone. On this invention we would see different ads and we were moved by the jingles and automatically we would choose our bikes by their jingle. I chose Yamaha! Well she had a nice tune to go with- "Listen to the heart beat of the YAMAHA". She was a beauty.

Time passed. I went into serious studies, preparing and flunking examinations while my sister found a job and with her new found income she bought a beauty (well she was red in color). The TVS Champ. One of my friends called it "basanti'. As luck would have it, sister quit her job soon after and went for further studies. I was still figuring out "what am I doing here in this world". And Basanti de-facto became mine.

Within two months of this coming into my hands, I got the hooter removed and the rear brake lethargic and many a pillion rider have lost their wits riding behind me as I zipped in and out of traffic. At this stage of my confused life, the mills of the gods seemingly stopped especially for our family as we plunged into a crisis. we sold our house and also the champ. For a few miserable years we pulled along and my means of transportation were relegated to the two beautiful legs god gave me and the dinosaurs which the state run transport gave us. Jostling and butting, getting on and of the bus while it was running, raising tempers all added to the misery. Then the gods had mercy on

us and we were spared further depredations (moralists stay of). my sister came back from her studies, took up a new job and bought yet another gem - the Kinetic K4. This remained loyal to me until a year ago when appa in my absence sold it of(Poor thing was rusting at home).

My sister's luck with regards to automobiles ran out and she got married leaving the poor thing (which by the way I called Dhanno in honor of the horse from Sholay) an orphan. For 5 long years she served me faithfully. Came out stronger after surgery(met with a couple of accidents due do other jealous stupid gits). I moved to Pune from Hyderabad and took up a job and I was thinking why not buy one of my dreams. During my indecisiveness during this period, I saw a couple of monster gems on the road. They came from the stable of Royal Enfield Motors. The Bullet series. (kisses flying all over). In addition to the bike, the other road users were careful around them. The respect factor is massive. I wanted one and after a couple of inquiries I figured that I was not yet ready. Colloquially speaking "mere paas chaddi nahi thi".

Ruefully I checked other options and found a bike more towards my liking and chaddi size. The Baja Pulsar DTSI. Now this mini-monster whom I christened Viru(make the link - Basanti-Dhanno) was my best bike till now.

By now I came to understand a little about bikes. All they ask for is a little care and they serve for ever or as long as you find a better love. 5 long years Viru was with me and we faced weather and man together. Never once did Viru ever strand me (taang diya)

I got married, am raising a son and in the midst of this I fulfilled my dream of buying one of the emperor's version. The Royal Enfield Classic 500. A dream come true. I raised my chaddi high enough to accumulate the necessary funds and procure my dream.

This is mine and I am saying it so. My son, Prataparudhra is now three years and he staked a claim the very next day I brought the emperor home.Why did he do so? well it was his birthday. Driving on the emperor is a veritable pleasure. The respect from the other road users is immense. Fewer honkings and no one trying to edge you off the road. I also get to see the envy of other road users and feel happy about it.

I can go on and on about the emperor whom I have named - Pinaka after the great bow of my god, the supergod Shiva. This might turn out to be the last two wheeler I ever buy. I am also running out of names for them. I bought a car after procrastinating for years. But there would not be a story for the car because a car is well a car. The bullet is a "statement".

The people@SAS R&D INDIA PVT LTD - secunda parte- DRINKING binges

Where were we. Oh! yes staying drunk. Folks do you remember the binge we had at Partha's place before he was to join the Cary office??? Wasn't that a blast. God I miss those kinds of binges. Then the different bachelor's party starting with No Beginning, no end fella- Anantha's. We went with something else in mind and reached a place in Pune camp(don't know why it is named so. Pune has many quirky names). This place; the ambience was bad, the liquor was good and the prices sky high and since Anantha was footing the bill, why would we care. By the time we split for the night, we were drunk for good and there was no need for "one for the road". Boy those were the days. After that binge, the team broke apart and we moved to Sakar place. Now here is where I went on many binges starting with my bachelor's party. Boy that party was a blast where we only drank, shouted hoarse and thankfully did not break anything. Venue was Sigri and as usual we always leave late. Chirag ali come along a lot later. I still don't know if he was already drunk by the time he came or he was play-acting. Sample this... Chirag comes and asks the steward to turn on the lights and poor chap he does that but the light points away from us.  Chirag immediately turns on him and asks him "Kya dikhara re". Light is taraf kar. Tu bhi piya hua hai kya?". Anyway John schemes with the others and presents me a gift. If you know John, you would know what was the gift he zeroed in on. On seeing the package I knew instantly what it was - yes, a pictographic Kamasutra edition. "Ass**** (&()&^%^*($#$&@". Mahesh and usman ali wouldn't drink as usual. John completes his two-pegs, Anup and me and Partha (after three he is at his hysterical best) go on and on and on, so much so I could not know if I was sitting on the table or the chair. The banter I don't remember much, but it revolved around and around only one topic - How did I meet my fiance, how did I woo her with a lot of details of minutae thrown in  . The bhadakaus around me would not relent in their persisting with questioning me. I am sure even my wife did not ask me so much. Sample this
John: Why do you like her?
Me: Because she chose me.
Partha: Kya! sharm kar (followed by a hysterical laugh)
Chirag: Typical laughter mixed with "Ladki tu hai ki who". Tujhe pasand karna hai, usko nahin. Tu aur ek peg peele. 
Mahesh: Twirling a straw in his mocktail (he has been licking the rim for an hour now)
Usman: Snapping photos from somewhere
John: Abhe saale, seeda seeda bol kyon pasand kiya. Aaltu phaltu jawab mat de(trying to imitate Sanjay Dutt in vastav) 
Me: Nahin bolta ja (at my worst petulant imitation)
Everybody together: ye kya baat hai, Tu aisa bolega to bhi ham nahin chodenge, tujhe batana padega, Hum log kay idar hilane ke liye aay kya and then started all the drunk gaalis. 
So I relented and told them a few incidents just to keep them happy. God I miss those days.
After that more binges followed, some at Khyber(speciality is you can drink as much as you want, but you will have no after effects. Saala chadta hi nahi), some at Kapila, chuck wagon (now closed) and lots of other places. The topics would range from cribbing about work-place, pulling legs; always Seetha would be the prime target for this. The drinking gang would roughly be the same. The rest were all visitors. Navin's Bachelor's party was a thing to remember - the bill shot through the roof and we had to chip in to alleviate the pain. Navin do you still carry your schooling certifcates in the car instead of the vehicle documents?? He he ehe ehe he eh ehe eh e

This picture is taken when we were drinking and shouting hoarse on the night when India one the first T20 cup - read more at T20 Champs


Wish there were more such pictures




KEEP DRINKING Fellas - 

Dadhood and how- handling child's ill health

I am going to start this post with a rant against GOD. Why did you create illness along with angels? Why for God's  sake why? When my son becomes ill, I am not sure who is affected more; him or us, his  parents. Why GOD why? Were it not suffice you that we appreciate the beauty of your creations as is? Why? why? why?

I am not sure if I am not able to handle my child's ill health or does his ill-health disable me. I become so disoriented and lost that nothing gets done by me and even if I try I make a mess. But I learnt something in this ordeal - "You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance and how much patience I can reap more". I proudly acknowledge that I have become more patient with him. When he was ill and blasted duty beckoned to me every morning, I was torn apart and wished I could be at both places at the same time. I am reminded of Golda meir - "At work, you think of the children you have left at home. At home, you think of the work you've left unfinished. Such a struggle is unleashed within yourself. Your heart is rent". A struggle which I much desire to leave, but alas cannot.  During his ill-health days. Anxiety is your friend and does not leave your side-couple my anxiety with my wife's and I have many ill-friends at that moment. The day is spent with ministering medicines and watch him scowl first and then bawl with dislike due to the taste. Further anxiety since his appetite is ruined with the medicine intake and feeding him is a session in pain and sound. Pain because I have to force feed him, sound because he bawls with every mouthful. After a couple of bites he does not want more and spits out stuff pushed in. You collect that, keep it aside and try with another morsel. Keep repeating it till the discarded pile is big enough to frustrate you. Why God why? I keep looking forward to his being better again driving me mad with his cyclonic destruction of peace and order. Blessed indeed am I that when I reach home, Prataprudhra beams me a smile, reaches for me desiring me to pick him up and gives me his cheek to kiss.

Give a little to love a child, and you get a great deal back

Dadhood and how - Managing my son

As a father I soon realized that taking care of my son is not so easy matter after all. Doing it helped me understand how Padma, my wife abstract it from me day in day out. My hats of to every mother out there who does the same and to every dad who manages to do it. My son is a cuddly tyke and cyclone mingled into one. A week ago my wife took to the sick bed and what with the swine flu scare in Pune and the rains playing havoc with my son. He took to common cold. The ten days she was recovering from illness I was pinned at home. No working from home either. It was taking care of wife and kid. Those ten days showed me what housekeeping is with a cyclone in your midst. I admit I failed miserably in the attempt. All ten days i was feeling something or the other beneath my feet - biscuits, water, dosa, bread, grains, vessels, toys, clothes and lot more knick knacks. Cleaning will ensure that you only get more. I thought selling cigarettes, bar tending was back breaking work but actually they are nothing compared to taking care of your son. Oof! my back still hurts with the cleaning, picking up things, stopping him from throwing things out of the balcony. A few days back he threw a new bottle of oil out and I could only helplessly watch it fall and break; thankfully not on anybody's head. I did not know his timetable and wifey dear was out of commission to help me out and so it was all trial and error. Early morning milk ,10 AM breakfast cereal or cerelac, 1 PM lunch (typical south Indian) 4 PM - fruit, 6 PM evening milk, 9:00 PM - dinner only chappati (unleavened bread) mind you and nothing else. 11 PM bed time milk. For all these things you have to sit with him. Especially feeding him solids - he will take a bite and start goofing about, try to catch him, he skips and gives you a sly smile. Get hold of him it is all shrill thunder tearing my ears asunder. At bath time, it is a pleasure to watch him play with water and a frustration to get him away from the secrets inside the commode. But all of these frustrations vanish when he sleeps in your arms and when there is a draught blowing in, he curls and snuggles in my arms, I can only let the dam break and tears fall on their own. Tears of happiness.
He is yet to start talking and my wife is worried that he might have a talking problem or a listening problem, but I know (and I also know that I can never convince my wife) that he is alright because he responds to me quite well. He throws liquid down, I ask him to mop it up and he goes to the laundry, gets the mop cloth and mops the floor (not properly though). Before marriage I thought I had a theory about bringing up our child, after marriage, I have a child and no theory at all. I realise that raising kids by theories and philosophies is a big mistake.
Once Padma complained that Arudhra ignores her and I remembered Ogden Nash's opinion "Children aren't happy with nothing to ignore, And that's what parents were created for" (Parents, 1933). When I dared mention it to her, all I got in return was being transparent to her for some time. In these ten days I was exasperated by him often but once I could take it no more and I gave him a rap on his bum with my palm. Boy did it hurt (me I mean to do it). The guilt haunts the living daylights out of me. Next time and everytime I am inclined to raise my hand again on him I will remember this quote "Never raise your hands to your kids. It will leave your groin unprotected". It pays for you to remember the same.

The people@SAS R&D INDIA PVT LTD - Part 1

I wanted to write this as a single post decided not to. This is one long post, so you will get this in multiple parts.

Cut back to March 2005, Convocation day @ XLRI. That perhaps is the only occassion in my life till date that I was in full formal regalia.

Just before my convocation I had resigned from my job at CSEL after 5 years of association. Took a month break and went on a holiday. After the holiday joined SAS@Pune. Entry to SAS was facilitated by my brother in law. The first person I meet is Shilpa, our administrative front desk. From there to Priya and then the first friend there - John George, my manager to be. First time I saw him, the thought that ran through my mind was "wow!! He has a lot of face to wash". It is difficult to describe John in a sentence or with few words. Perhaps four years of association has rendered me speechless. He did nothing to put me at ease in a new place. Showed me my desk and left. Couple of hours later he comes to me and drops a plate of problems on my lap which he wanted solved yesterday. This was to be my fate - solve today's problems yesterday. I am still doing the same. This ability of his enabled me to become a quicker learner, shed my inhibition in approaching learned collegues with questions, code better and a lot lot more. Along the way I realized why I found John to be a good manager is because, he puts in an equal effort as me to learn and understand what solution I provide. Secondly the one factor why I would put John on higher rating than others is his mantra of - "Let your work advertise" along with facilitating the environment and resource needed to produce beautiful and excellent codes and solutions. Mind you, he just does not give you a mantra, but also enable you to achieve. Another facet is his drive to push yourself beyond "what you know" and get into the unknown and he breathes dwon your neck till you have completed what you have been tasked with. I can go on and on about my admiration for John and his style of management. I would call him the benevolent dictator. Riding along we see many people, some I admire and some are well strangers. From the initial team along with me only Mahesh is left. When I joined the team I was a prima donna and had all the snobbery, aloofness and tantrums of the worst of the kind. This team (in alphabetical order); Anantha, & Aniruddh (Both along with John had a lot of face to wash), Anup, Deepak (Chirag ali), Partha (Reminded me of my Stats professor, will talk about him later on) and Rasmita and Mahesh from Anna Land(as John puts it) put in every effort to change me.

I am not sure if it was a deliberate attempt nontheless I am glad they did. Within six months I was a different person- I now love being part of the chorus. Looking back I am a better person and better at battling technology due to my interactions with them. But I am jumping the gun here. Lets go chrono as long as I remembers the dates and times. Couple of days later I meet the guy who had a rapid fire technical interview with me. Prabodh Navare was my first taste of what life would be @ SAS. My interview was hilarious. I was called over to Pune for a HR round. I reach the office straight from the airport and it became a marathon 3 hour technical round . At the end of it I was both hungry and thirsty. (Guys provide some snack and water if you do this to someone else). Anyway moving ahead Prabodh was to be my mentor and guide of SAS technologies. Prabodh comes across as a different person to many people, but to me he would provide an answer and a lot of links to research further. I am honored to be esteemed so high by him. Lets ride along and meet others - Anup Desmukh. Anup is no longer with SAS but we shared a desk and some camaraderie since we were the only two Java programmers, he before me was all alone literally and that too all new and fresh maal out of college. Suddenly one fine day the product we were working on was scrapped and the team distributed. We were pulled in different directions and Mahesh, Rasmita, Partha, Anup and me were left holding "no baby". This period was my honeymoon at SAS all of 2 months and then John goes across two ponds, gets back 2 kinds of work - one immediate - "code to show us how good you are" and the second kind was the actual work to be done based on judging our competence by the powers to be by our 1st kind of work. In the mean time Dinesh Sonsale joins us. After a couple of weeks I christened him Osman Ali (Last Nizam of Hyd notorious for his respect for time) and a couple of months later we moved to SAKAR office. The current setup was not enough to hold all our joie de vivre. It was during the two years at SAKAR that I made a lot of new friends and a lort more acquaintances. Friends who were there since the time I joined SAS but took me an year to find. Friends, My Friends, my good friends (Think you can identify them) Motor Mouth, Motor mouth's office wife (its a he by the way)Kunju, Warm beer, John's-Phone-A-Friend, Oh! Baba (this is easy), Silky, Thalaivars 1,2,3, Correct focus, bong brothers, and of course the hotsy maam from Fab India was a good motivation to get away from work and boy was there competetion to get to the basement to catch a glimpse. It was while at SAKAR that I got to go for binges with others, started of with Uncle and Motor mouth asking me first and then the gang just grew - Babu Bhai, Thalaivar 2, Bottle ki dukan, Bhattu, Ak56 (he had left SAS by then) and boy the Rum never tasted so nice before. Heres to all those binges and drinks we shared fellas.



Should God ask me what I desire most, I will ask him, One drink with my friends and every drink after that too. Fellas you guys rock. Leave you guys with Khalil Gibran's immortal words, "When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."
That which gives me sorrow is the separation from friends and the same thought gives me pleasure to be reminded of them and think about Those Times"

Stay Drunk Fellas

Dadhood and how - Part Tres: Happy birthday Prataparudhra

Its 13th December. The day our son was born. An year flew past me in a flurry of watching our son growing. I bet every parent feels an over-whelming happiness which consumes everything else. Work pressure, traffic, discord; everything is transformed into happiness. I am reminded of a quote by Salinger J D which goes thus.

"I am a kind of paranoiac in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy"

Marcus Aurelius put it in a very simple line "Very little is needed to make a happy life."

That "little" is my son, my prince, my Prataparudhra.

One year passed and he transformed from a sleeping bundle of joy to a hyper energy propelled naughty, inquisitive, attention seeking, full of mirth reason for happiness. The image created for his birthday show all of these attributes. He drives his mother crazy with his zeal for exploring below the kitchen sink, the bathroom drains etc. Anytime one of us go out the front door, he is to be taken else we are driven insane by his high voltage, high decibel rebellion.

All our frustration, anger, irritation is lost in a jiffy when he beams his angelic smile. What more shall I tell you. He has a lot of toys but they are no good if they are not in his parent's hands. He wants only those things which we use - cups, glasses, spoons etc. He has discovered sound. Sound made by banging pots and pans. All day he goes bang, bang, ting, ting, trang bang......

In the risk of quoting Marco Polo again and again - "What more shall I tell ?" I risk re-writing Schiller's 'Ode to joy'

The cup of joy brimmeth,
But never spills,
As kith and kin share,
And are joyful for us.

Prataparudhra, the apple of my eye,
Watches with wary eyes,
All those who greet him,
And bless him.

Smiles at everyone
Who comes to see him
Wanting them to come again
And cuddle him

Rudhra
after whom you are named
keeps goddesses Strife and Fury
at bay

You are our happiness
which we share and spread
like the sun god spreads
warmth and light.