Aah, To be Back in One’s Village (Part 1 of 2)

The trigger: Aunty hung up the phone after being at the receiving end for twenty-five minutes. She started looking for me, and hailed, “I say where are you?”

“You have my ears, dear,” I answered - deliberately with a dear, unsure of the raised voice. Sometimes anticipatory bail helps.

“You recollect, we decided we would visit Kerala at least once a year?” “Very much, and we will, dear,” I persisted with the suffix, still clueless.

“And when is that going to happen?” “In seven months from now. We visited in April this year, dear, ” I helped her refresh memory.

It was that phone call from a family friend sharing her recent Kerala trip that had triggered all this. Whether her statements tallied with facts or not, invariably you begin looking for your duffel bag to stuff your clothes and set out. Such captivating accounts she manages to give.

Since both of us are committed to swalpa adjust madi, any earlier decisions of ours can be overruled rather than sustained. Thus we decided to undertake it now, not seven months later.

The hiccup: In our April visit Ragu-Padma’s suitcase fell off the train near Wadakkanchery station as Ragu, always in a hurry, brought his luggage a little closer to the door to be in time to alight at the two-minute stop at Trissur. Luckily the police retrieved an hour later, thanks to a Samaritan rag picker delivering it.

This time, for two reasons we were skeptical whether we should invite Ragu and Padma or not. One, if their earlier experience was anything to go by, they would long back have sworn, never again to down South. Also, it is unfair to remind them of an incident that they are better off having forgotten.

Second, our trip would be more to our villages (my father’s and mother’s, and Aunty’s father’s), pay obeisance to the respective deities there, not to speak of the adima kavu (specific Devi temples, normally within a radius of 50 km, to which each family owes its allegiance). None of these places would be of any interest Ragu or Padma.

Nonetheless, we asked them. Their response?  Not only were they enthusiastic, they insisted that we undertake the trip in Ragu’s Cadillac (read Honda City) car. “Your Hyundai Grand i-10 will be too cramped,” I wished he had just offered his car, but not made this comment. Anyway.

Division of labour: “This time the trip should have all the ingredients of a leisurely picnic, not traces of a touch-and-go relay race,” the four of us decided as we charted the trip with halts at Coimbatore, Guruvayoor and Palakkad. I would draw a detailed itinerary, take care of hotel-bookings, and arrange for a driver from the agency. Ragu will handle finance; and the ladies the knick-knacks – and, no doubt, shopping all through the journey.

Optimism vs precaution: With Kerala having faced tsunami-magnitude floods consecutively the last two years, I checked the weather forecast for the week. It predicted heavy rains in all three places for the entire week. Added to that, as a precursor a la “Beware of the Ides of March,” in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar before Caesar was assassinated, it began to pour in Bangalore too the previous evening. I shared my weather findings with Aunty only to be rebuked by her, “Don’t you have anything better to do? Time you learnt to be a facilitator rather than a stumbling block,” and listed the occasions when weather predictions went for a toss.

“Was it yet another instance of my misfiring knack, or Aunty’s misplaced optimism?” Did we do the right thing in undertaking the trip despite the weather warnings, more so with an unknown entity at the wheel finding his way through heavy rains with unattended or resurfaced potholes of last year’s flood that lay bare to take its toll? Or, should we better have cancelled the trip?

To be continued… Part 2.

Re-visiting SFV Ganesh Chaturti celebration

In the good old days, Rexona soap carried an ad something like this: “Lovelier day by day”. No expression could convey better our SFV celebrations, year after year. Be it Ekatva, Rajyotsava, Onam or Ganesh Chaturti, each event has a knack to set a new standard to excel the next year. And so far it has been achieved.

This year’s Ganesh Chaturti celebrations were innovative: increased participation from residents; more volunteers, enthusiastic response to door-to-door collection (nearly Rs 60,000/-?), spontaneous sponsors for prasadam… Even the programme-presentation acquired a new dimension. SFV Theatre Group took charge of event-presentation that enabled audience watch a different game play.

A makeshift mini Ganesha temple facing East had been created on the steps of amphitheatre. It looked no less than the small deities that we see residing on both sides of a regular temple as you circumambulate it. A real Panditji (?) attired in panchagaccham was busy performing the traditional puja swinging the puja bell rhythmically, shifting gear as the occasion demanded - fast, medium or slow.

Now Narada Muni appears on stage. Yes he transcends on earth to have a dekho of the goings-on in earth. He chances upon to land in Turahalli forest. To forestall audience disappointment to see him holding a guitar instead of the inseparable Veena hanging around his neck, he hastens to clarify that his iconic Veena and cymbal were among the first things that he was robbed on landing. Luckily he managed to get hold of a guitar.

He found many rats roaming around the forest, as also a few peacocks. They were fighting it out as to who should become the vehicle for Lord Ganesha. “We eat a lot pizza, leftovers, and are strong. We can carry Lord Ganesha on our back,” the mice clan shouted staking claim, ably enacted by some of our SFVian friends. The three ladies – all of whom we see in morning walks, marathon running, or at the Gym, played peacocks. They put forward their own arguments to claim the honour.

Seeing Narada Muni pass by, they ask him to intervene. Very democratic in his approach, he asks each side to present their cases for the audience to evaluate, in a scale of 1 to 100. Then followed scintillating Bharata Natyam, enchanting Kathak, pleasing sloka recitals by children, songs by the younger generation followed by the not so young ones, and Veena-Violin jugal bandhi. All the events were ek se badkar ek, and the audience too lost no time in according each of them 100 marks, no less.

Finally Narada Muni granted the privilege to the Mice group to be Ganesha’s vehicle. To be equal to the occasion he blessed the peacocks to be the vehicle of the slim Subramania. Both the parties accepted the verdict with folded hands.

Then came the surprise item. Lord Ganesha personally condescends to appear in the stage to give darshan to devotees; yes fully masked. He went about enthralling and greeting the audience. Could one say he walked away with the cake?

It was time for Aarti and prasad distribution. Many residents had brought prasad to cater to 50 persons. Thus there were quite a few items lined up, and it was a matter of luck which item would land on your lap. Luckily, Tirupathi-like ladoo was being distributed when I was close to the distribution table. Just when my turn came, the senior lady in the distribution centre handed another utensil and asked the volunteer to distribute that. I was the first recipient of that. Yes, it was an item that Aunty prepared at least twice a week at home. So near ladoo yet so far, I cursed my fate. Anyway it was not the first time this had happened to me. In the milk-booth in Delhi when my turn came, quite often the milk stock exhausted or, at the railway booking counter the last ticket for my date got booked just before my turn.

A lively bhajan by an outside party followed. Too bad it was planned after prasad. The attendance suddenly thinned. Anyway those missed were the losers. It was enchanting. The organizers should have planned it for earlier in the evening.

Many felt the going around the complex with the idol before Visarjan may not attract many participants, more so after prasadam. But they were mistaken. Residents participated in large numbers. Finally the Visarjan was performed with thunderous roar from one and all, Ganapathi Bappa Moria, giving fitting farewell to Lord Ganesha – till next year, that is.

Rudram-Chamakam Session Suffers a Setback

Everything has a price. And it is more if the characteristic of the project is: of the elderly, by the elderly and for the elderly.

The session started off with a bang. Within moments of announcement about 14 members enrolled – as would any of Salman Khan’s Eid movies close booking within seconds of opening.

One guiding principle was that the session would be held at each member’s house in alphabetic order.  A few were keen that they would attend but not host. We reckoned that 14 was a good figure considering that on an average each member will have a five-seater sofa and six dining chairs in his house, to seat 11. And at any given time some members will be absent attending marriage, 60^th birthday, housewarming, and the like. So we settled down to small is beautiful rather than more the merrier.

Now comes the problems attendant with the elderly. The first person who had to skip even the very first class was my friend. He and his wife had to rush to Dubai as their daughter in law delivered the baby ahead of ETA.

Yet another moved in recently and promptly enrolled his name. He however alerted us that he would join only when he returns from Chennai after a while. We look forward to seeing his face.

Then came the turn of the person whom we looked upon for mid-course corrections in our rendition. He joined and withdrew soon saying he would be off to the States in ten days. But we persuaded him, and he did oversee our performance for three classes. We now look forward to his return to assess our progress in the interim.

“Sorry friends, I am going to London and will be away for six months,” came a jolt from another member. He was a better-rated chanter, and one could count on him for small corrections, though we could do so similarly with him.

Not to be outdone, yet another member continued in the same breath. “Yes gentlemen, I too will be away later, not for six months, but just for two-three months, to be with my daughters in USA and Canada.” In the chorus rendering his voice was always stood out - with the tinge of Sastrigal.

“We will manage with the rest. Anyway two will return in October, one in November, and so on,” we consoled ourselves with the dwindling number.

Amidst this exodus, I another SFVian asked me the other day. “How come you people take one hour to chant? I do in just twenty minutes; of course in fast-forward mode,” he said. “I don’t care much about intonation and diction.” That is the essence of Rudram-Chamakam, I felt. It reminded me of the surgeon announcing to the near and dear ones, “Operation successful, patient collapsed.”

Now comes the bombshell from Kalanidhi who started Rudram-Chamakam literally from scratch, but has made the fastest stride in the group. Yes, the family is relocating to Electronic city.

He has made two specific requests: one, not to delete his name from the group, He would recite in his home at the same time as we would here. Two, when he is fully settled, we visit his new home one day to chant Rudram-Chamakam. “We shall,” responded one member promptly, “but instead of the usual coffee, it should be High Tea as we shall be coming from a long distance.” “No, no,” quipped another. “Since the chanting is from 11 to 12 noon, it should be lunch thereafter.” “Why go in for all these?” asked the third. “We shall chant Rudram-Chamakam at his residence, avail of the usual coffee after the event. On our way back, we will all, including him, have buffet lunch at a good restaurant.’

Luckily, regardless of this temporary setback, we are a never-say-die group, never willing to take things lying down – improvement or no improvement in rendition.