A peep into SFV Upakarma-2019

In Kerala they often ask a devotee, just to confuse him: “Which one will you attend if both Guruvayoor Ekadasi and Vaikom Ashtami fall on the same day?” Both are important. To the alert, the clue is Ashtami (8^th day) and Ekadasi (11^th day) don’t happen on the same day. Simple.

But in SFV three activities are on, at the same time: the national Independene Day, the religious annual Yajur Upakarma (also known in many places as Avani Avittam), and the sports ‘BPL’ badminton tournament - a la IPL cricket. So you are as confused as ever which way to go.

To add to the confusion, the SFV cultural wing asked me if I could be the chief guest at the Independence Day celebrations. I had to decline it on two counts: First, I had this honour on an earlier occasion; it should ideally be someone else’s privilege this time. Second, the seniors’ Rudram Chamakam group was toying with the idea of performing the Upakarma at SFV community level and I was trying my hand at coordinating it. It is also on the same day and at the same time.

So here I am sharing the SFV Upakarma function held this morning at the feet of ‘our’ Lord Madheshwara. I am sure similarly some others will share the two other events, perhaps with more gripping accounts. After all, with too many pieces too often, Uncle is beginning to become a bit boring.

Regardless, let me begin from the beginning. “No harm in trying,” reassured the Rudram Chamakam members when the subject was first mooted after a chant-session. “Yes, we will take a chance,” sounded all unanimously. The idea was conceived.

We contacted Sastrigal. Each purohit has his established clientele, and few would chart into an unknown territory. But we were able to persuade one who was ready for the venture – a la Chandrayaan 2.

The next worry:  if we would be able to mobilize enough participants what with Independence Day and the increasingly popular BPL tournament intervening. “Again, we will give it a try,” reassured the members. Over 40 participants aligned their fate with the move. Good for a start.

Now the rain God. He arrives and departs at His whims and fancies. The AccuWeather forecast is okay to an extent, but whether we can plan everything by what they say. Even the World Cup cricket plan at global level goes for a six quite often, more so when India is playing.

But our primary concern was whether it would rain on the 15^th morning – no matter if it does at other times, maybe the farmers would welcome it; but not any more given the rains assuming inundating proportions.

The venue. We seemed to be jumping the queue. Even before ascertaining the venue, we tend to move forward. Putting the cart before the horse. We checked with the temple Managing Committee, and it was nice they welcomed us with open hands, with no strings attached.

Sastrigal identified, venue fixed, and good participation ensured. Now it is allocation of portfolios. Disregarding whether he will be celebrating his 80^th birthday later this year or next, every senior was willing to shoulder whatever was assigned to him. Soon we had ministers for Homam (not Home) Finance, Logistics, a spokesperson, and of course someone without specific portfolio (read: Sundaram). What we call in my office LBDN (Look Busy, Do Nothing).

The D’Day arrived, thankfully with Sun at the helm. Sastrigal and his sidekick arrived on time. Normally celebrated if it happens. We served them hot coffee brought from home. That brightened them up. With a mike in hand to accentuate his already loud decibel, he chanted and we repeated the mantras, with E&OE, for full two and half hours and the function came to a successful conclusion. Ravi Shankar delivered Vote of Thanks. He did that in both Kannada and English, liberally thanking one and all.

Sastrigal was happy – we gave him a little more than we had agreed, because from the estimated 25-30 we were over 40 participants; the Archakas of temple and others too were as we gave them a token Sambhavanai as a mark of respect; the SFVians were happy that they didn’t have to rush to their old habitat any more for this function;  we gave a substantial donation (from our standpoint) to the temple which might or might not make any difference to the already rich temple and, finally, the Rudram Chamakam group rejoiced that ‘oldies’ too can deliver. A win-win situation for all.

Moral: Yes, age is just a number.

SFV Traffic Regulations – challenges and responses

So, yet another landmark decision takes effect today. Or, a major one since the new MC took over recently.

This should keep us engaged for the next few days trying to learn entry and exit points, and unlearn the practice hitherto, more importantly overtaking within the premises, now that the complex is replete with speed-limit signs.

It might take us well a week before we get accustomed to the new regulations. Till then the cardinal principle is: follow the security chap’s directions. He has no agenda to put us into any inconvenience; just implementing orders.

Like when you see a group photo, the first instinct is to check how well you look in the snap. Similarly, when a new rule is enforced the first impulse is to see if it affects you adversely or favourably. Viewed from that standpoint I would say that with this arrangement, I am the monarch of all I survey… Yes, I have the best of both worlds. I can enter either from Alder or Cedar gate, if and when I take my car out, that is.

Speaking of the gamut of driving and traffic rules, I cannot help going down the memory lane. Decades ago I went to get my two-wheeler Learners Licence. I thought I had just to deposit the fee and collect the licence from the Officer inside. I had no clue that the wall of his room would be decorated with signboards and he would pick one and ask me for its significance. “What does this convey?” he asked me pointing to one of them. ‘I think you have to be careful, there is something up there.” He pointed at another, and asked: “And this?” I answered, “here too, sir.” When I answered the same for the third question he got irritated. “Bhai Sahib, there is something wrong ahead in all these cases, precisely why we install these signboards to warn. But I expect you to know what they specifically are. You understand? You seem a nice guy, so I am excusing you. Otherwise I would have instantly disqualified you.” He then asked me to wait outside, buy a traffic-sign leaflet, learn the significance of each sign for the next thirty minutes and re-appear. I got it in that attempt.

Months later the second confrontation was for my permanent licence. The driving test is done in India Gate grounds. I was told he would ask two-wheeler aspirants to drive as though they were writing the figure 8. Once bitten twice shy. So, the week preceding the test I attempted 8 at least 108 times  - narrowly missing skidding on a few occasions. On the D’day we were about twenty, some for car driving. The inspector got into a car, asked the aspirant to drive to Janpath and park near Air India office, and the rest of us to follow the car. We did. On arrival, he disqualified the entire squad. “How could you do that, sir? The driver of the car in which you sat might have made some mistake, but you can’t disqualify the entire lot for that, we argued. He patted on the back of the nearest – read, me. “Yes my friend, the car chap entered Air India parking area from the Exit gate and, accustomed to herd mentality, you all followed him. Now all of you go home, deposit afresh test fee a week later and try your luck. Got it,” and walked away. I got my licence in the next attempt.

This time I was riding my scooter. The DTC bus was charging me from behind like a CPWD bull. I had two choices: cross the road before the signal turned from amber to red or, stop suddenly at my peril. I crossed but was a little late, and the police constable stopped me. I explained to him in English, deliberately. “You see it was amber, and I should be given the benefit of doubt, more so because a DTC monster was chasing me from behind, as though he was hellbent to avenge for some misdeed of my previous birth.” He let me go. The senior inspector who always waits a little away by his bike, asked the constable, “Kya hogaya?” to which he replied, “Yeah kuch angrezi mein bol raha hai, Saheb.” By then I was a mile away.