Donning Shiva and Shakti

Everyone cherishes to enact a role or two of somebody one adores, all the more with the visual entertainment media taking the world by storm.

I was no exception, having been a member of the then South India Theatres in Delhi. Alas, it was short-lived. My presence warranted the storywriter to conceive a special character that fitted my heavily loaded Palghat-Tamil accent.

Regardless, everyone bides for his time, which seldom goes unrewarded. For me, it came in the form of Aunty and I being asked to don Shiva and Shakti for a Dampati Puja recently. One website chose to call her Shakti, the other Annapurni, and yet another Parvathy. The essence is the same. Again, to draw liberally from websites, Dampati Puja is a process of offering prayers to an elderly married couple, invoking them as Shiva and Parvathy, either within their own family or outside their relatives, or someone who is great at heart.

The last qualifier is far fetched for us. But we definitely were relatives. It was Aunty’s sister and her husband who performed the ceremony. Earlier, a strong contingent of my s-i-l, her husband his two brothers with spouses, and another cousin with his wife (all senior citizens I guess), had set out on an extensive near-non-stop tour of Rameswaram, Kashi, Allahabad, Gaya, Kashi, and Rameswaram. Back in Bangalore, they were supposed to perform Ganga Puja followed by a Dampati Puja to complete the ritual circle, their total exhaustion notwithstanding. One thing emerged. If you wish to shed a chunk of kilos, undertake a long ritual-filled religious tour rather than rely on the evasive diet-exercise duo.

Undoubtedly, the most suited couple in the family for Dampati Puja would have been the eldest sister and brother in law (86). But then they are in Dubai, and already enjoying this very privilege every Friday in a function there. The choice thus fell on the next senior sister and her husband (read Aunty and me).  A stand-by is a stand-by, like the occasion when as young boys we rushed to Kalpathy village one evening to enjoy the melodious Murugadas Bhajan, only to return home content with the stand-by local bhajan group performing instead. Murugadas’ car broke down on his way from Coimbatore to Palakkad. The silver lining however was the four of five varieties of Prasadam on an empty stomach at 9.30 in the evening which somewhat compensated for the loss - a la Dollar nahi to kameez ka collar chalega, a line in an old Hindi song.

Back to donning Shiva and Shakti, Shakti also happens to be the screen name for the heroine of Queen, Gautam Vasudev Menon’s foray (?) into the television world, sharing with us the story of purportedly Jayalalitha. Names have been changed to safeguard against libel. An average movie-goer of yesteryears can however make out, as intended, who the near-original names GMR, Anjula, or Soumya Devi, in real life refer to.

In the few episodes we watched, the narration moves fairly smoothly; tends to be slow or overstretched at times though, and deftly handled at other places. Welcomingly the background score is soothing and prefers to stay in its designated place, the background, not affecting the audibility of the dialogue –a sharp contrast to the current trend where background should more appropriately be hailed forefront. Overall Queen helps viewers to have a peep into the lives of film celebrities with their own quota of trials and tribulations - and far from being a bed or roses. What we see externally is their trying to keep up appearances.

Against the backdrop of such an extensive coverage in the serial, one wonders what will the producer of the full-fledged biopic, “Thalaivi’(Leader), with Kangana Ranaut in the lead, be left with to convey to the audience. But then, these movie moghuls know a little too well which side of their bread is buttered, and to explore uncharted territories. After all, they just will not let their investment go down the drain. Meanwhile we shall keep our fingers crossed.

Donning Shiva and Shakti

Everyone cherishes to enact a role or two of somebody one adores, all the more with the visual entertainment media taking the world by storm.

I was no exception, having been a member of the then South India Theatres in Delhi. Alas, it was short-lived. My presence warranted the storywriter to conceive a special character that fitted my heavily loaded Palghat-Tamil accent.

Regardless, everyone bides for his time, which seldom goes unrewarded. For me, it came in the form of Aunty and I being asked to don Shiva and Shakti for a Dampati Puja recently. One website chose to call her Shakti, the other Annapurni, and yet another Parvathy. The essence is the same. Again, to draw liberally from websites, Dampati Puja is a process of offering prayers to an elderly married couple, invoking them as Shiva and Parvathy, either within their own family or outside their relatives, or someone who is great at heart.

The last qualifier is far fetched for us. But we definitely were relatives. It was Aunty’s sister and her husband who performed the ceremony. Earlier, a strong contingent of my s-i-l, her husband his two brothers with spouses, and another cousin with his wife (all senior citizens I guess), had set out on an extensive near-non-stop tour of Rameswaram, Kashi, Allahabad, Gaya, Kashi, and Rameswaram. Back in Bangalore, they were supposed to perform Ganga Puja followed by a Dampati Puja to complete the ritual circle, their total exhaustion notwithstanding. One thing emerged. If you wish to shed a chunk of kilos, undertake a long ritual-filled religious tour rather than rely on the evasive diet-exercise duo.

Undoubtedly, the most suited couple in the family for Dampati Puja would have been the eldest sister and brother in law (86). But then they are in Dubai, and already enjoying this very privilege every Friday in a function there. The choice thus fell on the next senior sister and her husband (read Aunty and me).  A stand-by is a stand-by, like the occasion when as young boys we rushed to Kalpathy village one evening to enjoy the melodious Murugadas Bhajan, only to return home content with the stand-by local bhajan group performing instead. Murugadas’ car broke down on his way from Coimbatore to Palakkad. The silver lining however was the four of five varieties of Prasadam on an empty stomach at 9.30 in the evening which somewhat compensated for the loss - a la Dollar nahi to kameez ka collar chalega, a line in an old Hindi song.

Back to donning Shiva and Shakti, Shakti also happens to be the screen name for the heroine of Queen, Gautam Vasudev Menon’s foray (?) into the television world, sharing with us the story of purportedly Jayalalitha. Names have been changed to safeguard against libel. An average movie-goer of yesteryears can however make out, as intended, who the near-original names GMR, Anjula, or Soumya Devi, in real life refer to.

In the few episodes we watched, the narration moves fairly smoothly; tends to be slow or overstretched at times though, and deftly handled at other places. Welcomingly the background score is soothing and prefers to stay in its designated place, the background, not affecting the audibility of the dialogue –a sharp contrast to the current trend where background should more appropriately be hailed forefront. Overall Queen helps viewers to have a peep into the lives of film celebrities with their own quota of trials and tribulations - and far from being a bed or roses. What we see externally is their trying to keep up appearances.

Against the backdrop of such an extensive coverage in the serial, one wonders what will the producer of the full-fledged biopic, “Thalaivi’(Leader), with Kangana Ranaut in the lead, be left with to convey to the audience. But then, these movie moghuls know a little too well which side of their bread is buttered, and to explore uncharted territories. After all, they just will not let their investment go down the drain. Meanwhile we shall keep our fingers crossed.

Donning Shiva and Shakti

Everyone cherishes to enact a role or two of somebody one adores, all the more with the visual entertainment media taking the world by storm.

I was no exception, having been a member of the then South India Theatres in Delhi. Alas, it was short-lived. My presence warranted the storywriter to conceive a special character that fitted my heavily loaded Palghat-Tamil accent.

Regardless, everyone bides for his time, which seldom goes unrewarded. For me, it came in the form of Aunty and I being asked to don Shiva and Shakti for a Dampati Puja recently. One website chose to call her Shakti, the other Annapurni, and yet another Parvathy. The essence is the same. Again, to draw liberally from websites, Dampati Puja is a process of offering prayers to an elderly married couple, invoking them as Shiva and Parvathy, either within their own family or outside their relatives, or someone who is great at heart.

The last qualifier is far fetched for us. But we definitely were relatives. It was Aunty’s sister and her husband who performed the ceremony. Earlier, a strong contingent of my s-i-l, her husband his two brothers with spouses, and another cousin with his wife (all senior citizens I guess), had set out on an extensive near-non-stop tour of Rameswaram, Kashi, Allahabad, Gaya, Kashi, and Rameswaram. Back in Bangalore, they were supposed to perform Ganga Puja followed by a Dampati Puja to complete the ritual circle, their total exhaustion notwithstanding. One thing emerged. If you wish to shed a chunk of kilos, undertake a long ritual-filled religious tour rather than rely on the evasive diet-exercise duo.

Undoubtedly, the most suited couple in the family for Dampati Puja would have been the eldest sister and brother in law (86). But then they are in Dubai, and already enjoying this very privilege every Friday in a function there. The choice thus fell on the next senior sister and her husband (read Aunty and me).  A stand-by is a stand-by, like the occasion when as young boys we rushed to Kalpathy village one evening to enjoy the melodious Murugadas Bhajan, only to return home content with the stand-by local bhajan group performing instead. Murugadas’ car broke down on his way from Coimbatore to Palakkad. The silver lining however was the four of five varieties of Prasadam on an empty stomach at 9.30 in the evening which somewhat compensated for the loss - a la Dollar nahi to kameez ka collar chalega, a line in an old Hindi song.

Back to donning Shiva and Shakti, Shakti also happens to be the screen name for the heroine of Queen, Gautam Vasudev Menon’s foray (?) into the television world, sharing with us the story of purportedly Jayalalitha. Names have been changed to safeguard against libel. An average movie-goer of yesteryears can however make out, as intended, who the near-original names GMR, Anjula, or Soumya Devi, in real life refer to.

In the few episodes we watched, the narration moves fairly smoothly; tends to be slow or overstretched at times though, and deftly handled at other places. Welcomingly the background score is soothing and prefers to stay in its designated place, the background, not affecting the audibility of the dialogue –a sharp contrast to the current trend where background should more appropriately be hailed forefront. Overall Queen helps viewers to have a peep into the lives of film celebrities with their own quota of trials and tribulations - and far from being a bed or roses. What we see externally is their trying to keep up appearances.

Against the backdrop of such an extensive coverage in the serial, one wonders what will the producer of the full-fledged biopic, “Thalaivi’(Leader), with Kangana Ranaut in the lead, be left with to convey to the audience. But then, these movie moghuls know a little too well which side of their bread is buttered, and to explore uncharted territories. After all, they just will not let their investment go down the drain. Meanwhile we shall keep our fingers crossed.

Northern India Calling

Weeks before what is closest to our heart, in-house functions, were announced (Rajyotsava, Bhajan by renowned artists, and the Shata Rudrabhishaka ), we had booked our tickets to Amritsar, Mathura and Delhi. The dates clashed leaving us with the option of this or that. Our trip was basically to attend a marriage reception in Mathura.

Skipping home breakfast – nay - postponing it for a tempting one at the airport lounge that the otherwise always-on-a-loss platinum Debit Card entitles, we boarded Akram’s Innova, and picked up en route our friends, the Hebbal couple, Narayan and Sarasa. On the way I got a WhatsApp message from my Rudram-Chamakam friend: “Sir, don’t miss Kesar Da Dhaba for Amritsari kulche-chole, Lachhi Parotta, and a refreshing Lassi, or, to taste the pure-ghee Jalebi from Gurdas Man… Short of naming the nearest medical shop for a possible stomach disorder he had listed every eatery. Must be a connoisseur of food, his deceptive frail body notwithstanding, I guessed. Another friend recommended Brother’s Dhaba, and yet another…. We obliged all of them, and thankfully were able to move on to our next destination in one piece.

Might is right rules the roost in Amritsar too like in some other Indian cities when it comes to traffic. But in the Golden Temple area, a lady with an iron hand, a la Kiran Bedi, handles violators ruthlessly. She moved around with a plier in hand, and cutting off the clutch-wires mercilessly in erring three-wheelers.

The Golden temple visit was very rewarding. What impressed us most was the neatness of the premises, dedication, discipline of the crowd, and the impeccable langar service (free food). As is wont, temple foods, wherever they are, enjoy special taste. Out of the four of us, Sarasa and I were ill at ease sitting on the floor for langar, so we chose the steps of the nearby staircase. The Sevaks reassured we would be served. But everything has a price. While Aunty and Narayan got all items - and steaming hot - Sarasa and I missed some really delicious items, reminding me of Sri Guru Nanak Dev ji’s own words, Waqt se pehle, aur muquaddar se zyada kuch nahi milega. You will not get anything before the stipulated time, or more than destined.

We were glad we didn’t miss the Wagah border show. The forty-five minute ceremony arouses patriotic fervor. You raise your voice unwittingly each time, as never before, with Vande Mataram, Jai Hind, or Bharat Mata ki Jai, just to make sure that it is heard by your counterparts on the other side of the border watching their show. We reached the venue just ten minutes before the show, but were offered the front row thanks to our senior status. Fed up of doctors brushing off any aliment as ‘age-related; anything else?’ it was nice to see that, for a change, age-card stood you in good stead.

We bade farewell to Amritsar adding jointly to our material possessions with a cosy quilt, dry fruits directly from Kabul, Amritsari papad, ladies garments, and a steel kada that Narayan bought for himself. He fancied it. He said Vishnuvardhan had it in a movie. His all-time hero however is Rajkumar. As a youth, he saw one of his films 13 times. Can’t vouch if that accounted for the closure of his father’s small-time hotel business in Mysore.

Hospitality would steal the show if what we experienced in Mathura were universal.  Long ago Narayan was Bank Manager in Mathura for just three years. But the way he was taken care (and us, in the process) is a living example for Athiti Devo Bhava. “You may visit Vrindavan, Barsana or Govardhan, but you will have breakfast, lunch and dinner here,” were the non-negotiable commands of the hosts. I whispered to Narayan, “For the hospitality you got for three years of stay (that too as a stickler for rules in sanctioning loans, etc.), for my 40-odd years of stay I should be carried on the shoulders on arrival in Delhi, but I assure you no one would turn up.”

Aunty and I stayed back in Delhi to visit friends and relatives, not to miss my uncle’s house. He passed away two years ago. He was the one who brought me to Delhi to eke out a living.