...And Pran

This is my acclamation of an actor par excellence and there are others who will write better praise than me. My acclamation though focuses on my favorite Pran character - Ramesh Thakur in the Movie Dil Diya Dard Liya (took pain in exchange for heart)

I saw the said movie on Doordarshan a long time back and the character still sits in my mind, the vehemence, the hatred and the "look" he gives as he eyes Dilip Kumar's character as if he were the lowest of life forms. Dilip kumar was consumed by those eyes.  As I watched the film, the grey cells in the back of my mind were churning "Which book is this story similar to?" I scratched and pondered all the while watching the movie. A few days later I was reading Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights and then it stuck me that I saw a movie adapted from this story and I conveniently forgot the title of the film and there it was back in reverse, reading the book I kept trying to recollect the name of the film. All I knew was Pran playing Hindley Earnshaw with so great an elan that I waited to watch the film again just to watch Hindley Earnshaw brought to life by Pran. Tis was a period of technology ice age. There were no one in my very small circle of friends and acquaintances in Hyderabad who saw b&w hindi cinema and there was no internet to run a query on a search engine. And doordarshan was not very generous in replaying that film again. I waited for them to broadcast it again now that I knew the book and wanted to match frame and page. There is a scene towards the middle where Dilip Kumar's Shankar (Raja saheb) asks for his love (Played by Waheeda Rehman) and towards the end of his suit, he says मैं तुमसे अपनी प्यार का भीक  मांगता हूँ | (I beg you to give me my love)

The camera then pans to show Pran in close up and then draws away but still focussed on the eyes as they grow dark, pained and finally defiant. Ramesh Thakur (nee Pran) goes hysterical (and does nor recover after) and with a lot of glee and spiteful pleasure retorts

 तुम हमेशा से सिर्फ भीक मांग सकते हो। तुम भिकारी ही  रहोगे   | (you will always remain a beggar) or something to that effect. 

The above line is a long monologue and Pran's eyes are in sync with the dialogue as they do a deadly dance ranging from fear, defiance, contempt and finally doing the dance of victory and elation as Ramesh thakur realizes that even though he has lost everything, he still has power over Shankar (Raja Saheb) and he exercises the power to deny Shankar his love. 

After that scene bollywood takes over and spoils the film.

C'est la Pran that stays with me since in later years Pran the actor was replaced by Pran the actor in not so great movies. Movies like Zanzeer, Victoria 203 and many other such stupid roles dented my awe and respect for the actor. But then along came two other movies (but none in class of Dil Diya aur Dard liya) Parichay and Chori Chori. They restored my faith in the actor par excellence and tis no wonder that the film credits would always go "And Pran"

When I am publishing this post, Pran was awarded the Dada saheb phalke award and I am sure the mandarins in our bureaucracy and news media (print and visual) would talk about the inconsequential roles and leave out Pran's pie la mode roles in the age of Black and white cinema...

NOTE: The movies mentioned above are in the chronological order in which I watched them and not in the order of their release dates.

Old Tales- Ramayanam in 7 Lines

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

On the train from Pune to Hyderabad I noticed two children fighting for the window seat and that reminded me of a similar incident of mine. During that incident long back, my grandpa (mother's father) taught me a small shloka which remained etched in my mind. Don't know why it remained etched. Perhaps twas the melody with which he recited it, perhaps because he made me recite it time and again. The story around it was...

              We were coming back from Pandalam, Kerala after school's  summer vacation. Amma, my sister and me were being escorted by Thatha(grandpa). Back then train journeys were something we used to look forward to. Priya(Could not recollect calling her akka i.e. elder sister) and me would always fight for the windows seat. Like Aufbau's principle of electrons occupying energy levels in a first come first principle, whoever got into the train cubicle first would get the window seat. I was always second since amma would not let go of my hand and by corollary Priya would get the window seat. She would give me a smug smile which would make me go into tantrum mode. Thatha to console me would take hold of my hand and take me to the compartment door where we would stand a foot behind. It was not fun to watch "between two legs" the world go by. By legs I mean the chap who would be standing at the door smoking and spitting the cud from the betel leaf he would be chewing. So the pitch of my tantrum would raise a couple of notches and thatha would bring me back to the berth. To get a sleeping berth on the train back then was no mean achievement. Socialist regimes ensured that there were not enough rakes and trains to transport the 10 times greater number of people. But then again thatha was so respected that securing sleeping berths for all of us was child's play for him. The next fight was for the upper berth at sleeping time. Again Priya would win because I was toooooo small to sleep on a berth of my own. I would always be paired with somebody.  Back then Pandalam, Kerala to Hyderabad was a three day journey by train which included a 6 hour wait at a station called Guntakal (or was it Renigunta?). At this station another train would couple the Kerala compartments from our train. So the six hour wait for the second train would kill all enthusiasm in a small child. So my tantrums must have reached an octave by now. Thatha then took me on his lap and taught me the shloka. The shloka in essence summarizes the Ramayana. he wrote the shloka in Tamil which I still don't know to read. He then started reciting it to me asking me repeat every syllable. By the end of the six hour wait, I knew the shloka by heart.

 The shloka summarize or explains what you can find in The Ramayana

I have tried reproducing the shloka in Sanskrit (devanagiri script) in which I am pretty sure there are spelling mistakes. Tis has been a long time since I wrote Hindi.

पूर्वम रामा तापोवानाती गमनं 

हत्वा मृगं कांचनं 

वैदेही हरणं जटायू मरनम 

सुग्रीव संभाषणं वालिनिर्दालानम 

समुद्र तरनम लंकापुरी दहनं 

तत्पश्चात रावण खुम्बकरा हननं 

एदत्त रामायणं ||

For those of you who are devanagiri challenged, the shloka in English

Purvam Rama Thapovanati Gamanam

Hatwa Mrigam Kanchanam

Vaidehi Haranam, Jatayu Maranam

Sugriva Sambhashanam, Vali nirdalanam

Samudra Taranam, Lankapuri dahanama,

Tat pashchat Ravana Khumbhakaran Hananam

Eddath Ramayanam.

I will attempt a translation what with my poor Sanskrit skills.

Long ago, Rama went to the forest 

where he went hunting the goldent deer

in that time Seetha was kidnapped

Jatayu tried stopping and was killed

Rama in search of Sita, crowns Sugria king after slaying Vali,

The monkey army cross the ocean

Raze Lanka

And finally Rama slays Khumbakarana and Ravana. 

This is what is described in the Ramayana      

Old tales - Yudi feeding 8000 people everyday

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, after the war at Kurukshetra Yudi is crowned king of sampurna Bharatavarsha (sum total India then) and he would pursue a habit he picked up during the time he and his brothers (pandavs) spent in exile. The habit was to feed 8000 (why 8000 people I am not sure) everyday. Imagine 8K hungry people would turn up at lunch time( I am assuming Lunch only) and Yudi as host would first wait for them to finish before gobbling his lunch. This fact of Yudi spread far and wide and inflated his ego so much so that his ego grew bigger than Godzilla and king kong stacked. Krishna in far of Dwaraka comes to know of this and he ponders "me thinks I will pay a visit to Yudi, his 8000 fame and his inflated ego. Just as Krishna was thinking this, Garuda comes along and says "Let's get moving, why the wait". So Krishna smiling hops on Garuda and off they flew towards Hastinapura. As would always happen, whenever Krishna came visiting people would throng for his darshan.  After a couple of hours Bhimasena(Of the shaanth Gadadhari Bhim fame) would lose his patience and would take his mace and swing it a couple of times and create a path from Krishna to the guest palace. Krishna had a separate palace in Hastinapura (even though he dissuaded and disapproved of it) which was bigger and grander than Yudi the emperor's palace. 

          The next day as usual Yudi would place host to 8K folks waiting for lunch. As they stood watching Yudi asked Krishna, have you seen a grander sight than a king gain satisfaction watching his praja being fed. The pride was not to missed when he said it. Krishna smilingly asked permission of Yudi (since Yudi is emperor and Krishna was very particular about such protocols) to go visit his best friend who was waiting to have lunch with him. I will be staying here for sometime anyway. Yudi pestered him with "go tomorrow, but lunch with us today. Why do you insist on going today?" When suddenly he goes "whoa!!! Who is this best friend we have not heard of? I used to think that us Pandavas are your best friends". Krishna could have boasted, "I am Krishna, the Lord of the Cosmos", but no, he simply said "Oh! he is a simpleton whom I meet once every year down south. Would you like to come and meet him?" Now Yudi who was tickled by doubt, jealousy and even more by curiosity said yes. They hop on Garuda who by the way gave Yudi a cold steely look. They flew down south (now remember this is a lore) and in a few minutes landed in the place called Kerala today. When Mahabali saw Krishna, he came running overjoyed like a small child being offered candy. He prostrated before Krishna. Krishna picked him up and gave him a fraternal hug. Mahabali went into raptures and started singing paeans about Krishna, the lord of the Cosmos. By now Yudi got bored and was itching to know who this minstrel was and what made him Krishna's best friend.

        After about three or four songs (as per south Indian mythology movie standards) Mahabali again prostrates in front of Krishna. Krishna picks him up and bids him "Mahabali, my friend, my best friend a very Happy ONAM to you". On hearing this Mahabali became ecstatic and prostrated again. After some more prostrating, hugs and songs, Mahabali notices Yudi and became very apolegetic. "Ayya forgive me, this is a lapse on my part for not noticing you earlier. A guest is the Lord in disguise and I have not noticed you. Please forgive me." He was very earnest when he said this while Yudi was both curious and bored to notice the breach of protocol. All the time Yudi was thinking; "OK he is a big fanatic of Krishna and his bhakti is apaar, So how does that make him Krishna's best friend."

               All this time, Krishna was aware of the turmoil in Yudi's mind, but naughty as he was he let it play for some more time till Mahabali noticed Yudi. Yudi, you know about the grandson of Prahalada who donated me three steps of territory. Well this is Mahabali, who comes to visit Kerala every year on ONAM. Mahabali interrupted, and again started a song about Krishna. Yudi now got very irritated and turned towards Krishna and waited for him to complete the introductions. Krishna turned towards Mahabali and said "Yudi is the grand emperor of sampurna Bharatavarsha. His greatness has spread far and wide. So much so that many people are mirroring his habit of feeding people everyday. He alone feeds 8000 people every day. People sing songs of his greatness everywhere. Krishna went on and on about how this practice ensured that people would not stay hungry and that they would get at least one sumptuous meal everyday." By now, they were seated under a banyan tree surrounded by the bounty of nature partaking a ONAM sadhya together.

               Yudi bore a proud mien during this discourse which extolled his greatness in feeding 8000 people everyday while Mahabali lost all his child like happiness and became sombre and thoughtful. Mahabali very agitated and embarassed because of the thoughts running through him broke another protocol of not seeking permission before breaking from a group meal. He just got up and walked away to sooth this ruffled pili and emotions. He returned soon and prostrated in front of Krishna and Yudi and sought their forgiveness for his yet another breach of protocol. He folded his hands and sought their attention and said 

        "Ayya I seek your forgiveness for what I am going to ask and say now. Lord! Parandhama! Mokshkunda! How is feeding 8000 people greatness when it means that 8000 people have no other way of feeding themselves. Lord! You know how for my yagna's and homams I would find it difficult to find even one person in all the three worlds who would accept my grants and bhiksha. The lord also knows that in my final yagna, people were aghast when you came and asked for three steps of territory since it was considered a shame to ASK for anything. Ayya! forgive me but feeding 8000 people means that either there is not sufficient means of earning or people in Bharatavarsha no longer value the the greatness of working and of being empowered. Ayya! Forgive me, tis not greatness but a real shame when the king has to provide food instead of empowering the praja to get their own food. Ah! People of Bharatavarsha how low have you fallen?". BY now Mahabali was running tears so much that they rivalled the Gautami and Godavari rivers in their flow.

     The lord smiled, Yudi was speechless. He regained his composure and prostrated in front of Mahabali and said "Mahabali! Krishnamsara! You have opened my eyes. Devakisuta, my friend! I thank you for opening my eyes. I will rectify the situation immediately. As if on cue, Garuda presented himself for the journey back home.

EPILOGUE: Last time it was checked, Yudi failed in rectifying the situation. People still wait for the ruler to dole out stuff. 

  

               

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 -