Concluding Narayaneeyam Class, 3rd Batch

After teaching Narayaneeyam to two groups earlier, my wife proposed starting a fresh class. I was a bit skeptical that it would be a strain on her, but dared not share it with her for fear of being frowned upon. 

Fourteeen members, two from outstation, registered their names. The strength could have been more by six to eight if only the days and time suited them. Classes began on 2 March 2023. And today, 26 Dec 2024, she completed the session.

To the two earlier groups she just helped them to chant the slokas correctly with proper intonation and diction. The present group was lucky in that she explained to them the meaning of each slokam. Precisely why it took her 22 months to complete. (The composer himself took just 100 days to write Narayaneeyam at the rate of one chapter a day.) The silver lining is the enthusiasm of the students with no dropouts - a great moral booster to the teacher. 

The corridor news is that some participants could not help wiping their tears when she explained the last slokam of the book, after which it is said the composer, Shri Bhattarathiripad, was cured of his serious ailment.

For the uninitiated, Narayaneeyam is the condensed form of Srimad Bhavatam which has 18000 slokas. Bhattathiri summarized it in 1034 slokas in 100 chapters. Over the years Narayaneeyam has become increasingly popular.

At the end of this morning’s class, the members asked Aunty if they all could meet her in our house at 6.30 in the evening. She okayed it assuming they had consolidated their doubts and wanted clarifications. No, they had come to gift her a heavy metal vigraham of Udupi Sri Krishna, among a host of other things. As each one began pouring out her/his (yes, a sole male member, Sashidhar) profuse gratitude to Aunty, I ‘interviewed’ them at random on the strengths and weaknesses of Aunty’s teachings. While Padma Mami, Dr Gayatri, Sushma, Sunita, Krishna, Lalitha Ravichandran, Vani, Rekha, Jayashree, or … were very lavish in their praise, nobody pointed out any weakness.

 “After all, it is the teacher’s husband asking, and you are in their own house now - how could there be any statement against?” I told them. Upon this, like a flash-flood they responded: “Yes, she should be more rigid, she should not be so lenient, or patient, she should not wait till the last minute to announce she has a doctor appointment,” and the like. Moral: Never under-estimate people’s talent to present strengths in the garb of weaknesses. 

To be fair to both the taught and the teacher, I asked Lalitha the same question – the strengths and weakness of her students. “No weakness, whatsoever. Only strengths. They were very regular in attendance and with total devotion; not missing Ekadasi-chanting assignments; they put up with my liberal use of Tamil words whenever I am stuck for words while explaining the meanings in English…"

The group got down to discuss a joint visit to Guruvayoor and other places of interest nearby. Some suggested hiring a Tempo Traveller; others felt it would be tedious. One said the inter-city train would be the best. They tentatively agreed to organize it in February or March 2025. One member said she knew someone who would arrange everything in Guruvayoor, and she would take charge.

Aunty entertained them with coffee and wheat-halwa prepared at short notice – luckily it came out well. Everyone paid obeisance to the teacher, and in the process to her hubby as well. Aunty paid her respects to Padma Mami who was elder in age. All of them stepped out causing a commotion in the corridor till they managed to get into the lift in instalments.

Seeing them off at the lift, a beaming aunty returned to door 3195, telling herself: All is well that ends well.  

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Part 2, final – Re-living Sneha’s marriage

Uma-Ramani seldom fail to fulfil their familial or social obligations. They were there right from the word go. Ramani even offered his services to be part of the team to receive various Ahmedabad groups at the airport and drop them at the hotel. But the Event Management firm took care of that. It was very nice of Poornima, Sanjeev, his mother, and Keshav to have made it for the function. 

Chandra and Chandru are back to their happy selves. At each get-together we are delighted to see a more and more cheerful Chandra. It was nice that Rati and Veda made it. Although mother of 6-year old Veda, we are unable to visualize Rati beyond her child-like face. Too bad, Vineet, Pallavi and children could not make it, much against their wishes. 

Kannan and Chitra’s entry seemed more like the good old days’ Dev Anand and Waheeda Rahman. Sporting an off-white jacket with buttons open, Kannan refuses to grow old, as I overheard someone telling him. Chitra made her moves to attract the minimum of attention, donning out of the ordinary, simple but elegant sarees. One of the chief attractions of the wedding was Vinayak making it. So nice of him. Each time I see him, I involuntarily ask him, “Now what is your height.” This time he was blunt: “Athimbar, I am way past my age to gain more height. It is 6.1 now, and for all times to come.” The darling of the crowd.

That round up takes me back to Shanthy and family, once again. I admired Pooja dancing in merriment despite physical restrictions. Shekar too made some movements synching with the beats, though he chose to be behind. Sandeep gave a good account of himself. It was nice of his doctor parents to have set aside some time to attend this marriage amidst their commitments both at the clinic and hospital in Coimbatore.

Equally so, we were delighted to see Shekar’s sisters and their families, as also Rajan and family to be fully involved in the proceedings. The only grouse, if any, would be that Shri Ganesh, a professional singer who specializes in the 1950s to the 1970s songs of Kishore, Rafi, Manna Dey, Hemant Kumar and Mahendra Kapoor, could not entertain  - nay, enthral - us with his renderings. He did it for Pooja’s marriage. Therefore, Sneha can justifiably feel a little unhappy on that score. But then, circumstances conspire to provide or deny such opportunities – it is not his making, perhaps. 

This piece would be incomplete without a word or two about Priyal family. Priyal, the bridegroom is such a lovable boy. His father, the 6’2 or 3’ tall in one solid piece, probably believes in Speak Not unless absolutely necessary. But when he speaks he does so with care and respect. Priyal’s mother, Pooja (for clarity I shall call her Pooja Senior, just to distinguish her from our Pooja) is humility incarnate. The way she was in tears during the Maangalya Dharanam ceremony was reflective of her innocent heart. The rest of the members too were of an amiable disposition, having made it to Bangalore with a one-point programme – to entertain and be entertained. 

Starting from the Mehndi ceremony-lunch, to evening snacks to a lavish dinner spread across the entire lawn what with Starters row, an assortment of juice row, half a mile row of main food items, and enticing line up of mouth-watering sweets. VB Caterers deserve full credit for living up to their promise. Not just that. They provided some complimentary breakfast and other items too – unannounced. “How come,” we asked. “Sir, you must have woken up as early as 5 or 5.30 to reach the venue for preparations, and we can’t serve you just a cup of coffee. Just a goodwill gesture, sir,” he reassured me. 

Equally so, our tried and trusted Chandrashekar of Malleswaram, did an outstanding job on the Muhurta chaappaad. Kudos to Shanthy, Pooja, Sandeep… for selecting the menu, and no less to Chandrashekar & Co for leaving nothing to be desired in terms of taste, neatness, liberal serving, and politeness.

What next, one might wonder. To get ready to celebrate Christmas and New Year? No. To head for Ahmedabad where Priyal’s parents are organizing an equally gala function. Meanwhile we extend the newlyweds a very, very happy and joyous life.

Re-living Sneha's Wedding - Part 1 of 2

Shanthy and Shekar were having a cup of coffee in Cedar balcony enjoying the pleasant weather outside.  Shanthy heard the ring tone of her mobile kept on the dining table. She rushed in. “Yes Sneha. How come you ring up half an hour earlier?” “No, Amma, I couldn’t wait till then. I just wanted to share with you that I have found my life partner.” “Fantastic,’ replied Shanthy, excited. And who is the guy?” He is Priyal Chatrapathi, a Gujarati boy. We studied together in GeorgiaTech.” “I know whatever decisions you arrive at, you will do so after due deliberations. We are fully with you Konthey,” reassured Shanthy. Yes, Shanthy is correct. Sneha and Priyal indeed are charming and made for each other. The sole answer that is difficult to find is: who is lucky – he or she? Undoubtedly, both.

This was last year, but enough for Shanthy to get going with preparations. Both parents got an opportunity to meet the would-be addition to their respective families when Priyal and Sneha visited India later.

The marriage was fixed for 14 and 15 December. Come Sunday 8 December – last week, that is. The Weather Office predicted heavy rains, inclement weather, overcast sky, and declared Yellow alert till Friday. “Thank God, it does not extend to our week-end marriage,” relaxed Shanthy and Pooja. “Regardless, we should be ready with Plan B,” insisted Shanthy, Pooja, and now Sneha who has arrived a month earlier for the event. Fear engulfed their minds till they went to bed on Friday night. They were the happiest to wake up to a bright sunshine on Saturday morning. 

Many had contributed their bit for the preparatory work. Precisely why it was a great success.  However, if I were asked to deliver the Vote of Thanks, I would begin with Shanthy - yes, Shanthy the perfectionist. She had begun preparations as early as in January this year. Believe me, the marriage venue was booked then, to be precise. And everything downwards began taking their turns.

If Shanthy is a perfectionist, then Pooja executed everything to a near T – be it negotiating with the Event Management company or arranging a convoy of cars to transport the core-groups to and fro. Sneha jumped into the fray as soon as she landed for the marriage, to give final touches to the plan, and to do jointly those shopping items that waited for her arrival.

Sandeep, the laadla of the family, was the Man for All Seasons. He had his finger in every pie; one of the quietest leg workers, in fact.

Shekar held on to his forte - to make mid-course corrections by way of suggestions. His oft-repeated defence for leaving things at the suggestion level is: “I would have done this myself, but you see, as head of the family I am here in an advisory capacity, and not to do things myself.”  Others get the message and get going. That said, he did an outstanding job on both Reception and Muhurtam days in synching well with guests, the Royalton venue staff, the various food counters, transport vendors… Kudos Shekar.

Outside the Shanthy-Shekar group, Hari stands out for his active participation in the bhangra dance on both days. No wonder it drew great admiration from the bridegroom’s party, many of whom congratulated him individually. Kamala would have taken the centre-stage for the nitty gritty on Muhurtam day but for her recent fall. Her siblings filled the vacuum ably.

I did not see much of Srinath in action during the dance sessions unless I was busy doing justice to the Starter or Main menu counters. But he compensated it with taking good care of Kamala. Shobha did an outstanding job at the mic conducting the musical-bhangra extravaganza. It was very nice of Beena and Yuki to have flown all the way from Sacramento for the wedding. Kudos to Kamala family for near 100% representation.

And, lest I am accused of not mentioning about Lalitha Akka and I, we just hung around looking busy and doing nothing. 

Credit for 100% attendance goes to Saraswathy-Swamy family. Despite Mohan, Ramesh, Dhivya and Aarati having their official commitments, they didn’t allow any travel plans to interfere with their presence here. So nice of them. All the grandchildren, joined by Keshav, had a gala time running around the vast expanse and be in their own world.

(To be continued in Part 2 tomorrow

Samaveda Parayanam – An Enchanting evening

In Hindi there is a saying: Upar Wala Jab Bhi Deta Hai, Chapar Phaad Ke Deta Hai - Divine Grace is unlimited and bountiful. Exactly that was the privilege some members of the SFV Vedic Chanting group who were free at short notice, had this evening. 

Hardly had we had the pleasure of participating in the Shata Rudrabhisheka last week, when this evening Mr Gopalakrishnan, of Oak 2124, organized a private Samaveda Parayanam at his house. He invited the SFV Vedic Chanting group to partake the pleasure. Yes, I am talking of the same unassuming Mr Gopalakrishnan with an amiable disposition who, when speaks, releases the exact unit of decibel as is required for the listener to hear him – nothing more, nothing less.

Five learned pandits bestowed with the same pitch, as though Mr Gopalakrishnan had hand-picked them as would a music director for a chorus, rendered nonstop for an hour and a half Samaveda Parayanam, keeping the audience captivating. Starting off a little slow, they warmed up soon, and the hall reverberated with their scintillating rendering – uniform pitch, speed, intonation, superb synchronization, and what have you – as though it was a recording session. It was a listening pleasure. And as my Group friend pointed out, we could decipher not a single word of their rendering. Probably that is the speciality of Samavedam chant which has a musical tone in it.

On rare occasions when a train moving fast would suddenly slow down on spotting a buffalo or cow at a distance, the purohits slowed down at places only to pick up the original speed. After the session I thought of clarifying with them, but they seemed so tired after a long chant.

Altogether it was a real change from the ’leopard coming, leopard spotted…’ mindset we are in. Yes, last evening it was the turn of Alder and Maple 3 residents to watch from their balconies the leopard enjoying a post-late-lunch siesta on a boulder.

Also, the chant-session looked as though it was to celebrate the opening up of the sky from the cloudy and sickly weather that we in Bangalore were subjected to for the past few days consequent upon the cyclone in Tamil Nadu.

An evening well spent. It was like enjoying  a serene chamber music as opposed to a concert in an auditorium with all pomp and show. The positive energy and vibration that pervaded the 2124 hall knew no limits. An enchanting evening no doubt, Gopalakrishnan ji.

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Shata Rudrabhisheka event – SFV Second to None

Yes, SFV does it once again this evening. This time the team repeated what it started last year, the Shata Rudrabhisheka, with great fanfare. 

I don’t know how it is with you. But with me quite often the thought of a rail travel is often more thrilling than the actual journey. Much before the event, the SFV Vedic Chanting group was fully geared for this.  In almost every slokam-class there would be discussions on how the group should perform. The Group even did a full-dress rehearsal in the last class to chant Rudram in 19 minutes that Naveen had suggested in a communication.

If one has to draw lessons in combining the qualities of sincerity, simplicity, not miss any ritualistic aspects and do a complete job, one has to take a cue from the team that organized this event. I could of course list their names, but that would be satisfying, say, five, and dissatisfying double the number who were equally inseparable cogs in the wheel.

Disregarding this, in a moment of weakness that I am now,  I shall mention a few names – Naveen Kashyap, SFV’s de facto priest who does anything with aplomb;  Sudharsan Acharya, whose movements are calculated to attract the minimum of attention. How many of us know that the setting of any stage is his handiwork. I do not know what Panidra does in particular, but I have a strong suspicion that he is the brain behind the whole thing – year after year. Vinay Simha, Gururaj, Panindra’s b-i-l, and a host of others ably gave a helping hand.  The female force which performed with equal, if not better, competence included Savitha, Bhuvana, to mention a few. These said, the person who stole the show was undoubtedly Avyukth, the young boy of 3205 – a very smart boy. He will go a long way. I wish him all the best in life.

The function lasted about five hours – 3.30 to 8.30 pm when after invoking the blessings of Lord Shiva, around 50-odd devotees (from in-house, and outside talents) chanted Rudram, chamakam, and suktams – thrice so that the total number chanted far exceeded the figure 100. 

Naveen announced that they planned to do a particular theme every year. As part of explaining this year’s theme, he elaborated what the words Shi-Va stood for. He then gave the floor to Arun Kumar, not from the SFV clan, to take charge of invoking into oneself the strength and blessings of Lord Shiva before chanting a 100 count of  Rudram-Chamakam. He did a job that was nothing short of a professional. Retired as the Chief Manager of State Bank of India, Mr Arun Kumar stays in Jaya Nagar, 6th block. Yes, he proudly announces, “I was born and have been staying all my life in this very house, except when on transfers.” 

“I was being selfish, sir. I thought you stayed in Sobha Edge and you conduct classes for the SFV Vedic Chanting group, which is still in its infancy,”  I confessed.  

Another person enlisted for the chant was Mr Seetharaman, from RR Nagar, who retired as Sales Manager in a firm or repute. He said he studied vedas for fifteen years. Not just that, he recites Rudram-Chamakam 33 times a day – 11 in the morning; 11 in the afternoon, and 11 in the evening. “What if you have to attend a marriage on a day,” I asked him. “I will finish the morning and noon quota in one go in the morning,” he quipped. “I thought you would skip, like me,” I told, not him, but to myself. To be in the midst of such learned people had a humbling effect in me. It helped me feel grounded.

The MPH-1 hall was jam packed. Regardless, the volunteers kept on bringing more and more chairs so that everyone could sit and enjoy the proceedings. When I was about to depart after the prasadam, the same gentleman who asked me last time, repeated: “Sir, can we hope to see your blog this time too before midnight?” “You could, but left to myself I wouldn’t like this event to be reported content-less, my forte. With so much explanations given by Naveen and Shri Arun Kumar ji, I would like the piece to be content-packed - preferably penned by Naveen or someone else.” So, let me hope this is precursor to a real piece that will roll out from one of them. 

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Savithri Shankar no more in our midst

Smt Savithri Shankar, wife of birdwatcher or Ornithologist, Shankar, of Ebony (7135), breathed her last on 11 November. She was confined to wheelchair after a fall some time ago. She was never the same since then. 

Shankar could get a slot for cremation only for the next morning. They were just the two of them staying at home. So, in order that Shankar did not have to spend the night all alone by the side of his loved one’s body, someone from SFV (who chooses to be anonymous) volunteered to give him company for the night. I repeat, there is no dearth of Samaritans.

I can’t claim close knowledge of the Shankars except that Savithri ji and Lalitha were both members of various ladies’ groups in SFV including Satsang.  Savithri-ji had a soft corner for Lalitha, and she was one of the selected few to receive a portion of Rajamudi rice that Savithri ji got directly from a cultivator. For the uninitiated, “Rajamudi rice was originally grown for the Wodeyars, the dynasty that ruled the former kingdom of Mysore. One story says that subjects who couldn't pay taxes to the King of Mysore were asked to pay Rajamudi rice instead.”

Savithri ji also was a member, though not for long, of Lalitha’s Narayaneeyam Group 3 which is all set to complete the course soon. Unfortunately ill health prevented Savithri ji from continuing.

A chance meeting with Shankar at the Joggers Park soon after they had moved in, brought us together. He was looking through his pair of professional binoculars something atop a tree at the Turahalli forest, with a professional camera hanging on his shoulder ready shoot it in his camera. He asked me to view the bird through the binoculars and began explaining its features. And I wrote a blog on that. 

A devoted husband, Shankar would bring the ailing Savithri ji to the children’s park unfailingly every morning to get her Vitamin D and fresh air, as well as to permit her meet friends who pass by. We too used to take our turn to have a chat with them. 

When we called on Shankar’s house to offer our condolences, we met his tall, handsome, articulate son, Siddarth, who had come from Canada for the obsequies. A very impressive guy. During the chat it transpired that his wife is from Palakkad. 

At the Vaikunta Samarathane ceremony Shankar introduced me to Siddarth’s father-in-law’s younger brother, Narayan, from Mumbai, in the hope that we might be able to establish some Palakkad-connection.  Narayan stated he originally belonged to Lakshminarayana Puram. I unleashed a few of my classmates from that village – L.V. Raman, L.S. Venugupalan, L.R. Laxminarayanan… Apparently none of them helped him to connect. Understandable, because it was his grandfather who had migrated first to Bombay. So, even his father was born and brought up in Mumbai. 

The function was marked by the chanting of Vishnu Sahasranamam and veda  mantras by a team of learned purohits. The hallmark was the team’s intonation, pronunciation and the vibration that spread across the hall. I complimented Shankar on engaging a good team of purhoits. “You know who they are?” He asked. I didn’t. “They are Challakere brothers – Savithri’s favourites. So I made sure I engaged them.”  Yes, Challakere brothers are the ones whom we too follow in our SFV Vedic Chanting group. I wish I had walked up to them and paid my respects to the Group’s gurus in absentia. 

To sum up, Savitri ji was given a befitting send off under able hands. But in the end, as they say in English, “Everything that has a beginning has an ending.” In Malayalam, Innu Naan, Naale Nee (Today Me, Tomorrow You). In Hindi, Aaye akele, jayenge akela (came alone, have to depart alone). In Tamil, Veedu varai uravu, Veethi varai Manaivi (read spouse); kaadu varai pillai, kadaisi varai yaro (Relatives, till home; spouse, till the road; son, till ghat - who will, till the end? Yes, there will be similar sayings in all languages. 

Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti.

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Part II and Final: Horanadu and Kudremukh

Saturday morning. Bright sun greeted us for our drive from Sringeri to Annapoorneswari temple. There was just five to seven minutes of wait in the queue, no tickets. We were allowed darshan for a longer period.  Good darshans everywhere, we said to ourselves, bringing to close the pilgrimage part of our trip.

We drove to Nature Valley…., the resort where we had booked. Both the cottages were adjacent to one another and right in front of our balconies ran a small stream with crystal water flowing with a gentle sound  to remind us that we are in the inner circle of Nature. 

We had breakfast, lunch, evening snacks, and dinner. By and large they were good. The ambience was such that we felt like spending more time with lush green mountains surrounding and fresh air in free supply. The two ladies chose to walk up to the other side to soak their legs in the stream. As they did that, we took snaps of them. In the evening we took a long walk.

Sunday morning. We had our last breakfast at the resort and bade farewell to Nature Valley hosts and their staff for having taken good care of us. ‘‘The End’ of our pilgrimage part,” announced Kannan, “and Now begins the ‘pleasure’ part.”

With just less than two hours to Kudremukh, now began the drive to the full-fledged forest area. We spotted a snake, either in the family way or having just finished a sumptuous lunch at a friend’s place on the opposite side of the road, returning home swinging along in slow motion on the road, absolutely oblivious to the traffic. Anand stopped the van, and also signalled the vehicle in the opposite direction to do so till the reptile disappeared into the woods. Other species that chose to give us darshan included a well-fed mongoose and lots of peacocks.  As we drove deeper and deeper into the forest, we saw on our left an arch-type of metallic display – Bhagawathy Nature Camp. Yes, our destination. We drove for a kilometer inside to reach the office and ‘our’ wooden cottages. 

Mr Shanmugam originally from Shivamoga, welcomed us with a genuine smile. He apprised us of the various options we could have during the stay. “But first you have coffee at the Dining Area and then we will talk in detail.”

Rivers Tunga, Bhadra, and Netravati originate from a village not very far from our resort. The Bhadra rivulet passes by our cottage. We could take a walk, he suggested, but cautioned us not to make noise. That aroused our curiosity - whether there were leopards, tigers, elephants and other wild animals in and around. He said leopards and tigers were in single digits (if I heard him right), and a solitary tusker is known to be roaming around and had gone as far as Kolar. “How about cobras, we learn this area is the habitat of king-size cobras.” Agumbe is the capital of king cobras, he corrected. We heaved a sigh of relief. “Strange,  keen to visit forest, but want to stay away from some of its natural inhabitants,” you must be wondering. Yes, we are humans after all.

“So near, yet so far. Can we go to that village, the originating point of these three rivers,” we asked Shanmugam, all eager.  “Some time ago one person attempted and succeeded. One had to crawl or creep through a small hole to witness three small streams not very far from one another, but the hole is infested with different species of snakes. Also, one had to crawl back in reverse mode. So, no one is being allowed. Six security personnel are on duty 24x7. 

We had booked for the Jeep Safari - from 4.30 pm to 6.30 – a 14-mile to and fro trip to the top of Kudremukh – around 1200 ft above sea level. It would be a bountiful Nature, landscape, and lush green safari, and not an animal safari, Shanmugam had clarified earlier. And it was - and to our total satisfaction.

Ajit, the 30-odd-year old driver asked me to sit in front; the impact of bumps would be less. At the top, it was no less than being on top of the world. Kannan got into his elemental best. “Athimbar, this is how Sunil Dutt would have rendered his lines had there been film-shooting here,” and began an old Hindi song. Chitra picked it up and completed, thus making it a sort of Rafi-Lata duet minus background music, make-up and  cinematographer. Taken in by this, I attempted one myself which is more like a verse than a song: Sochha tha pyar hum na karenge…” only to be snubbed by my better half: “Then who asked you to?”, just to re-establish it was I who sought her hand. 

Before getting back into the jeep for the downward drive, Kannan went into a final spiritual mode. No wonder. After all, standing on top one does feel closer to God Almighty.  He chanted excerpts of what Arjuna had recited when Lord Krishna gave him Viswaroopa darshanam - “…forgive me just as a parent would forgive his child, a friend his friend, and a lover his beloved…” 

Monday, final day. As planned the guide took us for what they call Nature Walk from 6.30 am to 8.30 after which we would have breakfast and vacate. The guide stopped by a tree and asked us if we could see the ants go up and down the tree. They work 24 x 7, take food to the honey-comb-like nest on top - and let us identify the location - where the mother ant feeds the tiny ones as she simultaneously guards them. 

There are 135 varieties of grass that grow there; how they absorb the rainwater slowly to ensure survival till next supply.  Scientists have studied how one particular species of female insect is blind and how it bites humans. 

Then he explained the types of snakes. One type of Russell’s viper changes its colour to that of grass as soon as it swallowed a prey. The snake would lie down there for hours till it digested it fully. It is at this time you could rush and bring your friend to show him the species, sure to be there still. 

Then with a pair of binoculars he showed us one type of bird sitting on top of a branch. As we spotted it, another joined and we announced that there are two. He said the one that just landed was another variant, one with a long tail and another short – like Suzuki sedan and hatchback…

As Anand started the van for homeward journey, we felt all the staff there enjoyed their tenure despite absence of internet connectivity within a radius of 14 kilometers, restricted emergency medical facilities… Yes, the secret of success lies not in doing what one likes, but in liking what one has to do.  Bravo! Three cheers.

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Travelogue: Kuke Subramanya, Dharmasthala, Sringeri, Horanadu and Kudremukh (1-4 Nov 2024)

Part I – Kuke Subramanya, Dharmasthala and Sringeri

Diwali. Thursday, 31 October. We got up early morning, had Ganga snaan, received and reciprocated greetings from well-wishers. 

We packed our suitcases, ran through the check list and, in the evening left for Kannan/Chitra’s home in Rajaji Nagar. Kannan is Mami’s one and only brother among seven sisters – ladla to everyone. He has bought a new Toyota Hycross Hybrid van and was keen we join them on a pilgrimage-cum-pleasure trip. It coincided with my 85th birthday. So nice of him.

Friday morning, 1 November: We all got into the van at 5.10 am, only ten minutes later than planned.  For the next fifteen minutes both Kannan and Chitra got busy familiarizing with the latest computer features that the vehicle had incorporated to help negotiate one’s way.  The journey started at 5.30, with everything in place.

The next task for Kannan was to identify a good restaurant for breakfast. After ten minutes of search, he came out with two options: “Athimbar, do you want to have breakfast at a very good restaurant between 7 and 7.30, or at an average restaurant between 8 and 8.30?” “8 and 8.30 would be a better time,” I suggested. Everyone agreed.

During the preparatory stage, Kannan had suggested that we carry our Airpods just in case one wanted to hear one’s favourite songs, listen to discourses, or be absorbed in Ted talks. Everyone carried, but I can’t recall anyone having plugged the Airpod in his/her ears during the entire trip. 

Anand, the driver, is very quiet; will never speak unless spoken to. At one point during discussions on movies, we asked him if he had watched Rajani’s Vettaiyaan. “Yes sir, I happened to be one in the Censor Board to approve it. He took out his card that he was a member of the Film Censor Board for regional films. Very quiet gentleman. 

“The restaurant sir,” Anand announced as he stopped the van. Initially we had told ourselves. ‘no oily stuff; will go light on travel.’ But when others around us were gobbling from left and right, we modified our pledge, ’next time onwards surely.’

We reached Kuke Subramanya around 11.30. As we were changing our dress, we heard an announcement in the public address system that sanctum sanctorum would close at 11.30 for some time. We hurriedly bought Rs 100 tickets, got into the special queue that permitted us to walk without stepping on the guy in front. We had a very good darshan. Back to the car park, we said, “a good beginning.”

Before the trip, both Kannan and Chitra had decided that they would be behind the wheel at least for an hour to get a feel of the new vehicle, apart from Kia. Chitra took charge first. It was okay for a while, but thereafter signboards started surfacing too often: “Landslide, Slow Down’. “I think we need to reach Dharmashala before the temple closes for the afternoon; my trial drive can wait,’ so she said and took back seat.

“Athimbar, do you know we narrowly escaped a landslide once?” asked Kannan. “Initially we blamed Chitra for starting late. As we drove, at one point there was a huge landslide six or seven vehicles ahead of us which took a toll of two bus load of passengers. All of us then hugged and thanked Chitra for starting late.” 

In Dharmastala we bought Rs 200 tickets. It took us 1 hour and 30 minutes for darshan. But it was worth waiting for. We took the temple meals. Really massive and well organized.

There was slight drizzle on our way to Sringeri. Checked in, changed to dhoti, rushed to temple as it would close at 8.30 night. We had very good darshan. The Goddess Sharadambal’s procession idol was mounted on a golden chariot and taken around three times in the inner temple premises to the accompaniment of Nadaswaram, and japa ganam chanting and the small trainee boys joining them. On our part we chanted Lalitha Sahasranamam. It was a delight to watch the junior seer Shri Vidhushekhara Bharati Mahaswami doing pooja in the sanctum sanctorum.

Returned to hotel only to hit the bed fully tired.

To be continued in Part II and final: Horanadu and Kudremukh 

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Remembering College Days as it Celebrates 133 Years

My village friend sent me a clipping that Government Victoria College in Palakkad where I studied is now133 years old.  Long live the college with its vast expanse, scenic surroundings, let alone my youthful student days and memories that I cherish. 

The College could legitimately boast of being a springboard for many who made it big in life - V R Krishna Iyer (Chief Justice of India), EMR Namboodiripad (Chief Minister of Kerala), E. Sreedharan (the Metro Man of India), T.N. Seshan (Chief Election Commissioner), to name a few. Simultaneously, the college also admitted lesser mortals like me.

The faculty was a mixture of good, bad and indifferent individuals. The English professor was jovial and enlivened the class. The Sanskrit lecturer, with his namam on forehead always staying in an upright position. Students listened to him with rapt attention while he taught Shankuntalam and other lessons. With starched kurta and panchagacham he was so immaculate that one wondered if ever Modi-ji visited the campus incognito and took cues to imitate him later in life.

The Physics professor was handsome, and he was conscious of it too. He was also in-charge of NCC.  So, often he would take class in NCC uniform. 

The Biology professor believed in talking to himself rather than to the class. Despite stretching one’s ears to listen to him one keeps guessing the last three words in every sentence. In sharp contrast, the History professor could be heard in the seventeenth row although the class had only seven rows. If only students in the adjoining class, divided by wall, were a little attentive, they could take notes word for word.

In sports, the college fared better in football. In the inter-college tournaments, roughly it won 6 out of 10 matches. Ali was the full back. He seldom allowed the ball from the opponent get past him to the goalkeeper. His only snag was his return hits of the ball more often went skywards rather than towards the opponent’s goal post. 

Cricket team mostly consisted of boys from Vadakkanthara, Kalpathy and Nurani villages. Each one was given a nickname - Vijay Hazare, Vinoo Mankad, Nandu Phadkar, or Poly Umrigar - based on one’s skills. 

It is now over six decades since I moved out of Palakkad. But each time I went there, I would pass through College Road and ask the driver to slow down so that I could see my school and college on each side and explain the surroundings to my sons and wife: ‘See that tree, it is under that the ice-vendor used to sell crushed ice with syrup. And over there, Nataraj Café, used to be the rendezvous for college boys and girls for coffee and tea. 

One such visit was specifically for a darshan of village and family deities before my elder son took off to USA for higher studies. As we passed by College Road, I pointed my finger and said: “That is Syed Mohammad’s stationery shop. He did brisk business.”  Just then I heard a feeble voice, “Samikutty’s son?”. I looked here and there and saw a frail hand jetting out, trying to wave at me from the shop. Yes, it was Syed Mohammad, at a ripe age. He and my father often greeted each other at Fort Maidan in the evenings during their respective weight-reduction walks. He ordered for us ‘Crush’, the local soft drink. We had a chat. As we were about to leave, he whispered into his assistant’s ears, and he suddenly disappeared into the deep store only to return with a high-end pen-set. Syed gave it to my elder son wishing him all the best in his higher studies. Seeing the younger one a little disappointed, Syed picked a ball-pen that was handy and said, “and this one is for you, my boy.” The younger too was overjoyed.

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Celebrating 85th Birthday

Yes, it’s my birthday today. Time flies. Time and tide waits for none. Luckily, only yesterday I received a WhatsApp message, “Old Age Now begins at 80”, after research at Dublin’s Trinity College, Institute of Neuroscience.  That makes me feel quite young - just been four years with the Old Age group. Not bad.

Birthday is also the occasion when, aside from friends and relatives, one gets a lot of greetings from most unexpected quarters. In fact, the latter group is more active.

Life Insurance Corporation sends, along with the greetings, their catchy slogan, Jeevan ke saath, Jeevan ke baat with a host of offers. Banks whose accounts you have closed long back, shoot out automated messages offering loans at attractive terms without a re-look at recovery-risk factors.

Now I have a clearer idea why at some billing counter the stores clerk asks for your mobile number and date of birth before accepting payment. Once I just bought a bun or bread from a bakery shop. He now sends me birthday greetings offering 50% discount on birthday cakes weighing 2 kg or more. 

In another instance, I had paid for garments that my wife had bought. Today I receive an offer of 70% discount on salwar, kameez, churidar, and dress materials.

The jewellery firms are smooth operators. They assert that gifts that are cherished the most are the ones given on birthdays. And they come up with offers ranging from less levy for ‘waste’ to reduced making charges, and the like.  

The best however is from Secretary of a retirees’ association. He greets me with choicest words on happiness and health along with a post-script on the sidelines: “It would seem you are yet to pay last two years’ subscriptions. If already paid, please ignore this note.” He knows as much as I do that I have not paid. But just trying to be courteous.

Then there’s my friend in Pune. He is a poet of a sort. He sends me unfailingly a ten-line poem prepared specially for me. Each time I manage to elicit the meaning with the help of a dictionary.

His son is good at drawing caricature. He draws and sends me one every time. Somehow, he focuses on that side of me which I detest to be projected. But then that is what caricature is meant to be.

On the brighter side, a very dear friend of mine telephoned me to say that ‘amidst the multiplicity of your engagements’ (his words, not mine), he and his wife would like to drop in for fifteen minutes to do pranams to us on the occasion. His hidden agenda was to give me a shirt or dhoti, or both. This time he came fully prepared. He had the cab driver wait downstairs, had me wear two shirts bought from two different shops, so that just in case any alteration was required he could take the same cab and get it either exchanged or altered. “Why two shirts?” I quipped. “Because I know that the rat that raided your home recently had made a good dinner out of the long blue silk kurta that I gave you earlier and which you had hung on the back of your door.” 

Shanthy, my sister-in law staying in Cedar rang me up this morning. “Athimbar, you just have two choices: would you like us to prepare dinner tonight at home or order from outside?” I reminded her: “Just bear in mind that I am hosting lunch to my ‘shirts’ friend and wife. Make it very light’. Alas, half of Punjab Grill menu was spread on the table. Her daughter Pooja had ordered a special cake to make it ceremonious. 

My brother-in-law rang up to greet and ask me to be ready mid next week. “Chitra and I will pick you and Akka for a four-day long drive in my new Innova Hybrid van to Sringeri, Kudremukh, Horanadu, Dharmastala…” Yes, there is no dearth of love and affection. 

Incidentally, this write-up should also fulfil my Oak friend’s greetings which inter alia wishing me health, long life and happiness, included, “also more blogs from you”.

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Festivity Unabated – That’s SFV

With Navaratri-2024 having just concluded it was a resplendent SFV all along - all over. Ladies donning the prescribed daily dress code were hurrying from one tower to the other to honour haldi-kumkum invitations – four to five houses a day on an average. 

The SFV Devi Mahatmyam group consisting of around 25 members who, over a period of time, had learned how to recite DM with ease, organized full Devi Mahatmyam chant at nine different houses every day from 10.30 am to 1.30 pm. The rest of the members responded with full participation. 

This also meant that they had to get up in the early hours to prepare breakfast and lunch for the home before rushing for the chant – day after day. But all the 20-odd ladies who attended every day seemed to enjoy the rigour, as we saw all of them in one piece at the end.

As is wont during such festive seasons, the prices of pooja items hit the ceiling. Coconut price soared high – touching Rs 40, from Rs 22 a piece. We thought we would be clever and ordered with the flower lady five days in advance for 6 mulams (finger-tip to elbow) of jasmine flower-mala for distribution on the day the DM chant was due in our home. She accepted the order but made it clear that the rate would be as it prevailed on the morning of purchase. Understandable. It was Rs 60/ on the day we ordered, and Rs 100 on the day executed.  Betal-leaf sellers made hay while the sun shone.  We bought at Rs 3 a piece. Children enjoyed their holidays riding cycling or going around in groups. It was fun, frolic and gaiety all the way.

Shanthi Vaidya, Devi Upasaka of a high order, who, only the other day released a heavy-weight book in two volumes, 1500 pages, explaining Lalitha Sahasranamam meaning word for word, performed  Nava Varana pooja lasting over five hours. If corridor news is correct, one witnessed ladies from all other towers parading to Alder – like the Pied Piper of Hamelin. 

As though these are not enough, to give the event a fitting finale, the ever-active group of Sudarshan Acharya, Naveen and Vasuki Kashyap, Vaidya, Panindra, Ramasubramanian, and the gentleman attired in a smart purple panchagacham (forgive me, I could not get his name), a welcome addition Bhuvana, and many others, organized yet another pooja – this time Durga Deepa Namaskara this evening. 

First the ladies of the Satsang group chanted Lalitha Sahasranamam in unison. Menfolk joined them. This was followed by the Durga Deepa Namaskara. As it warmed up, almost everyone felt that the entire celestial world would descend on MPH1 breaking open the ceiling in response to the combination of enchanting pancha vadyam, the resonating chant of purohits, the inviting song Himagiri Tanaye Hemalathe by Ravichandran (of Alder, not Ebony – only his daughter is an accomplished singer), and a series of songs by the adolescent boy and girl much to the full participation and enjoyment of those who managed squeeze a space for themselves in the hall. The Mangalarati was simply matchless. It had all the ingredients to elevate the spiritual mood of the audience, let alone swing in joy unknowingly.

In the end the organizers had arranged Thamboolam on second floor, and prasadam on first floor for everyone present. Managed meticulously. As he distributed prasadam, one volunteer whispered into my ears, “So, sir, may we expect your blog on this tonight?”  “I shall try sir,” I replied. Glad I was able to piece together something.

Yes, as a WhatsApp message shared by a friend conveys, “Dasha Hara is a Sanskrit word which means removal of ten bad qualities within oneself: Ahankara (ego), Amanatva (cruelty), Anyaaya (injustice), Kama Vasana (lust), Krodha (anger), Lobha (greed), Mada (over pride), Matsara (jealousy), Moha (attachment), and Swartha (selfishness). And aptly, today, Vijayadashami signifies Vijaya over these ten bad qualities”.  Let’s hope victory over these will be perpetual and not like the short-lived New Year resolutions we tend to make year after year. 

Meanwhile, full compliments to the organizers, and congrats to SFVians for their no less enthusiastic response. 

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Visarjan Over; But Ganeshji intact in Our Hearts

It was a Sunday. Not yet another Sunday with no alarm to wake you up; no ritualistic shoulder-, neck- or knee-exercises to keep stiffness at bay. No hasty finish to be with your senior friends for the morning walk -  circumambulation of Pine and Maple towers. Yes, it was SFV Ganesh Puja 2024, a day-long programme from 7 am to 7 pm. 

The gathering at Club House headed to Gate 1 for the Agamana procession of the beautifully decorated Ganesha idol from Gate 1 via all towers to Oak playground for Homa and then to Club House to the accompaniment of nadaswaram and dolu - and saxophone as bonus. Yes, ever since Kadri Gopalnath added this instrument to Carnatic music, this has become a welcome trend in all nadaswaram programmes. They played some really hummable tunes, to the foot-tapping beats of dolu. 

I got a call from Aunty. “I say, join us at Cedar. Your friends V…., K….., M…., and have all come. You better hurry.” And so I did picking the shirt that was handy and not the one I had reserved for the occasion. Too late for Cedar. The procession had already reached Oak. Better late than never. 

The idol was installed and after homa, it was taken in procession to Club House where it was placed with a ‘live’ forest serving as a backdrop. ‘But what is the significance of peacocks in front of Ganesha?” I asked my friend sitting next. “I couldn’t guess. Maybe the forest at the background is Turahalli, and we have several peacocks dancing around every morning.”   

A short break for breakfast followed – not a dish more, not a dish less. Excellent. Hats off to the organizers.

The purohits for the function were specially ‘flown’ from Mangalore. Their decibel level hardly needed any public address system. The house was full by then. The atmosphere was charged. After puja it was time for Mangala aarati. The nadaswaram troupe which was till then subjected to stop and start signals, was given a free hand. With a liberated feeling they played their instruments in full blast. The acoustics of the auditorium being what they are, capable of producing three times echo effect, some of my friends seated near the troupe, moved to a place where they could enjoy the performance in the required decibel. On my part as a duty-bound resident, I looked up at the ceiling now and then to check for any hairline crack. None, luckily.

Managala aarati was followed by a small cultural programme, proving the point Small is Beautiful. This was followed by prasadam distribution. I wondered if MPH2 was the right venue for such a huge gathering. But the arrangements were so perfect that in less than 10 minutes everyone was seen carrying a sumptuous plate in hand – and delicious too. Yes, prasadams have a knack to be so.

The evening session included taking the idol around all towers accompanied by Dhol Tashe for everyone to dance and raise the merriment level, which they did. At one time, I too felt like indulging in that pleasure. “No way,’ protested my friends.  “What if we sprain ourselves of fall?” they quipped. “No worry, Dr Vijay Chandra, our bone and joint specialist is right behind us. He will fix it.”

After an elaborate closing puja the beautiful idol was all set for visarjana. The crowd thronged, some with their kids on their shoulders to their own delight and not so much to those behind. The idol was brought up and down the immersion tank probably three times as required, much to the suspense of the gathering. And then Lord Ganesha condescended to be immersed. The spectators reacted with mixed feelings. Some felt overjoyed, others shed tears. The crowd applauded spontaneously partly to bid farewell to Lord Ganesha, and very much to thank the Managing Committee of SFV Association for a wonderful day they had organized for them - the highlight of which was doing everything with clockwork precision. Kudos.

Yes, the idol might have been immersed but Ganesha-ji stays very much in our hearts.

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An Evening Never Before in SFV

If an evening combines the qualities of enchanting, entertaining, par excellence, pleasant, house-full (nay, over-full), then perhaps one shouldn’t ask for more. Yes, that was what SFVians were in for at a gala event yesterday evening. Thank you SFV Cultural Group - Suraj Kishore & Co. - for organizing this ensemble on Hanuman Chalisa. 

Dr Guru Murthy Vaidya, founder of Nadha Foundation, a non-profit NGO, is the brain behind it. He presented his first project – Hanuman Chalisa composed by the saint Goswami Tulsi Das. The troupe consisted of 40 members, coinciding with the figure of Hanuman Chalisa.  They included players of flute, sitar, keyboard, tabla and various other percussion instruments, men and women vocalists, and Yakshagana, kathak and stick-dance artists.   

 In a jam-packed ampitheatre where one had to make-do with just 75% of space needed, it was very much worth enjoying the programme - unprecedented perhaps. And the contingent included three artists from SFV.  

In these days when it is very difficult to get people to move out to watch a movie, drama, or even to do shopping what with everything being available sitting in the comforts of one’s home, it was a tall order to collect a good gathering to watch a classical dance or music.  Against that backdrop if the amphitheatre was over-crowded yesterday, Kudos to SFV-residents who are game for such initiatives.

Now to the brass tacks. “Among all the items presented which one did you like the best?” If someone asks me, it will be difficult to answer.

Donning a perfect panchagachham and other paraphernalia suited for the occasion, when Mr Kishore Bhagavat, the Sutradar, or facilitiator – an HR man in real life – was explaining the gist, I was floored by his intonation, diction, reverberating voice, and total command over the subject. “I am going to rate him the best,” I swore to myself.  When he set about singing the hymns, I felt doubly sure.

Then, when the ensemble of 40 played their instruments in absolute unison and synchronization, it proved a real mood elevator. “I think I will go for this,” I modified my decision.

When the in-house lady presented a scintillating Kathak dance, I felt I was in a celestial world. Oh my God, what a perfect performance. It would have been a movie choreographer’s delight to cover the entire sequence in one single shot, without any retakes. This is it, I said.

Then when Dr Guru Murthy Vaidya gave us a sample of what he was capable of - playing solo in Pakhwaj, Dholak, Chande, and Maddale, all with equal ease, the real confusion began on rating.

Now, the Yakshagana featuring a near-real Hanuman and his bhakta dancing with gay abandon, I found it was no less entertaining. We could watch children jump with joy.  

And when around 8 ladies, including some from SFV, performed the stick dance (kolattam), in perfect beat to the orchestra and the overjoyed audience too clapping in unison, it was sone pe suhaaga, accentuating the beauty of something that is already beautiful. 

On a different note, it was nice to see Suraj’s son (Tabla master Zakir Hussain Jr), sitting at the top row with two other youngsters, this time choosing to give beat support through cymbals. Whenever we met in lift, he would give me, condescendingly though, a hi-fi just before exiting. I was hoping to see him play tabla. Maybe next time.

Anyway, to sum up, my answer is: Ek Se Badkar Ek. As simple as that.

Now my turn. I have two questions. One, we learn that the Foundation’s next project is something on Vivekananda.  Is it possible to book two seats in advance in the front row of amphitheatre? Second. What is meant by swarg se sundar? Has it got anything to do with life in SFV?

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Elders Rock Again

Sunday, 22 September, the day chosen by an organization in Coimbatore to chant pan India One Crore Vishnu namas – for the 15th year.

Hari and Geetha (3192) organized this last year. They were fully geared to repeat it this year, but had to call it off as one of their relatives was taken ill and they had to rush to hometown. Man proposes, God disposes, or, daane daane pe khane walle ka naam. Yes, the honour presented itself to me. Everything is preordained. Not taking credit. Just that Hari’s loss (inevitable) was my gain.

Regardless of the short notice, members of SFV’s Vedic Chant group were equal to the occasion. Seven couples came forward not only to attend but to bring prasadam – Pongal (chutney to go with), puliogare, side dishes (aloo curry, raita, potato chips), jaggery-dipped banana chips, jackfruit chips, chakkara Pongal, appam, curd rice, puli inchi, cut-mango, amla achar, and Andhra spicy mango pickles… So much so, in retrospect one wondered whether it was a case of prasadam for function, or function for prasadam. Anyway, occasional indulgence is permitted, if only it is done with the solemn oath, ‘just this time’ - each time.

The event was not without some snippets.  There was a wild-card entry. The husband came first and said his wife would join soon but asked us to start. She hurried just in time for the second avarthi, with a container full of lemon rice, an unscheduled but welcome prasadam. Another member had to leave after first avarthi lest the domestic help got away with the excuse, ‘locked’. Thus, for counting, the chanting of these two constituted one (2 avarthis by one and 1 avarthi by the other). Yes, we didn’t want any nama-japam to go uncounted.

In another case (just to emphasize the enthusiasm), one friend had recently undergone a surgical intervention. He couldn’t sit for three hours. So, he did it in absentia. He arranged with a participant to give him a miss-call each time a new avarthi began, for him to get started too. Yes, we did 3 avarthis, and we were 17, ranging from 91 years to 57 (not to ignore my 22-year old tall, handsome new neighbour - to take photos and video).  Thus, we were supposed to have chanted 51 000 Vishnu namas (17 x 3 x 1000) for a target of 1,00,00,000. Yes, boond boond se sagar.

With male and female chanting together, modulation, tempo, pitch, could all pose a threat. No, it was a smooth flow. Earlier, the participants were treated with a welcome drink, hot Badam milk. After the first avarthi, hot coffee, and after the third, lukewarm water. But many preferred to skip it, some to do full justice to the plateful on the way, others as they didn’t feel thirsty.

After the chant, it was aarathi, where the ladies sang with supreme confidence and gusto the song that they did for Narayaneeyam, Devi Mahatmyam meets, where the names of almost all Gods figure in.  

Time for prasadam distribution. Each lady was keen to take charge of the dish she had brought, but that would mean equal number of ladies catering to an equal number of gents. So better sense prevailed. Only a select few organized filling and distribution of plates, while Carnatic songs rendered separately by Revathi Balasubramaniam and Kaleeswaran filled the vacuum.

As participants bid adieu, some quipped: “When do we meet again mama for a similar occasion?’; “how about a one-day trip; long-time no travel, sir?”. Yet another said, “Now we know whom to insist on to bring what for such a picnic. The only caution to exercise is to order for not a 21-seater but a sleeper coach, to succumb to the sedative effects such heavy doses bring along.” 

Prasadams turned to be a problem of plenty. It was lunch time. Everyone took back his/her leftover and distributed on way home to the security staff, the gardening staff and housemaids who all felt more than happy.

Yes, one good deed a day. And we fulfilled Sunday’s quota. Lokah samastha sukhino bhavanatu.

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Bhajana Ghoshti Enthrals – Rekindles Memories

SFV stalwarts do it once again. This time they have organized a two-day Sita Rama Kalyanam in Club House starting today. Kudos. 

The well-known artists include Sri Mukund Bhagavathar and Mohan Bhagavatar from Delhi’s ‘OS’ family; Sri Sriram Natesan Bhagavathar and Bangalore’s own known names, and of course, SFV’s Asthana Vidwan, Ravichandran of Alder. 

It was a pleasure after a while to listen to sampradaya bhajan. Each one on the dais proved an accomplished artist – be it the vocalists, the mridangist or the harmonium player. Their captivating performance from 9 am to 9 pm elevated the mood of SFVians beyond measure. 

Bhajan has been a part and parcel of our religion. In fact, the path prescribed in Bhakti yoga is chanting, Chanting, and CHANTING. And, today’s rendering by an ensemble of learned bhagavatars was really enthralling. Blessed were the SFVians who could be part of it.

Prasadam was a sort of pot luck – distributing whatever the devotees had brought  – sweets, lemon rice, puliyogare, payasam, curd rice…It was more like enjoying a meal at a picnic. A refreshing change.

The afternoon session was marked by an accredited artist from Hyderabad dancing to the hymns on various Gods. Simply fantastic. Wondered how he was able to do it for four hours. In the case of vocalists they could at least take turns. Here he had to perform solo. Kudos.

Any such performing event can only be as successful as the interest evinced by the audience.  Given this yardstick, I would give it 9 out of 10. Yes, I didn’t find the menfolk dancing to the various rhythmic beats. Kudos to the ladies. They took the cake. Their kolaattam (stick dance) to the Radhey Govinda song won them accolades. 

On hindsight, to be fair the menfolk, they were busy managing the crowd, providing extra chairs, and making routes for people to come and go…So, that balances out.

The organizers had planned everything to a T. For the afternoon session, depending on what hymn was being sung, SFV children dressed as Lord Rama, Sita, Lakshmana, Hanuman, Krishna, or Shiva-Parvathy, entered the ‘stage’. Consequently, it was cameras clicking all the way. Children always look the best – no doubt about it.

A 9 am to 9 pm singing – of course by turn – and having to perform tomorrow also is no doubt a tall order. But they are professionals and are accustomed. God save their vocal cord. Alas, Aunty and I will miss tomorrow’s event here – sammandhi’s gruhapravesam ceremony. Thank you organizers, nonetheless

************

In a lighter vein, this took me to my village days. We had a Bhajana Matam where we performed bhajan every Ekadasi. Very often there were no sponsors for prasadam. One resident ran a shop - bananas, betal leaves, nuts, biscuits… The understanding was he would bring 6 bananas on such occasions, and we in turn would allow him to be the lead singer for six songs – though not known for maintaining taal. But beggars cannot be choosers. At the start of the bhajan there would be 8 to 10 people. But we will continue with the session till the number reduced to 6 so that we could enjoy one full banana each.. On one occasion an elderly person attended in the hope the banana could prove a laxative next morning. He went out for a while. We thought he had gone home and hurried with Mangalam song and were eating the banana when he showed up. “You silly boys,’ he began yelling the next five minutes and swore to complain to the President of the Village.

In another instance, the famous bhajan singer Murugadas was to give performance in Kalpathy, Palakkad. People from nearby villages thronged to hear him.  But he did not turn up till 9 pm. People began to leave. The organizers announced that the local bhajan group would perform instead, just for 15 minutes and then distribute prasadam. This group was not known to possess the best of vocal cords. Exodus continued. One enterprising chap from the organizers saved the situation: “I learn there will be five types of prasadam. And this time it is from the house of Kavasseri Parameswaran mama.”  Mama was known to offer the best of prasadams and liberally. People rushed back to their seats. Five minutes later deeparadhana and prasadam distribution were done with no discontentment on either side.

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Catch Me if you can, Challenges Intruder Rat

One of my 20th floor residents reported in Telegram last week that he had detected a rat in his house. “Thank God, not on my 19th floor,” I heaved a sigh of relief. That statement, be it manasa, vaacha or karmana, was just not acceptable. And I paid the price. 

The rat probably heard me and promptly relocated himself or deputed one of his siblings to make 3195 his home. So here I am handling an uninvited guest, much to the neglect of an eagerly awaited visit of my own daughter-in-law. She stopped over from US coincidentally just for those very three days. Her boutique, shopping and other visits went haywire as she had to give a helping hand with Operation Rat. She and aunty with brooms raised, and I with stick with half power already released were ready to pounce on the invader – a la a predator and a prey in Animal Kingdom channel.

It was evening.  A co-resident visited us to say hello to my d-i-l with a packet of Calicut halwa.  The chat was warming up, and to make it warmer, Mami walked up to the kitchen to make some tea/coffee only to rush back. “Oh, there is a big rat speeding past underneath the sofa,” she shouted and ordered me to open the front door to let it escape. No, it had resolved to stay back and, instead, made an about-turn to hide below the covered kitchen sink area. 

The visiting lady rushed to the lift with Sunita to Ratnadeep to buy Mortein-cake meant to catch the rat. Hari and Geetha just then stepped out of the lift. Hearing this, they rushed to our flat to help us. Hari brought a torch-light and started peeping through places to spot it. They seemed experienced. “Yes, we have dealt with several of them successfully in MS Palya and Jaya Nagar,” Geetha patted herself on her back. Hearing the commotion our recently-shifted neighbour, Raghushankar and wife Rajani, rushed in. They reaffirmed their services, as soon as we spot the rat - day or night. “Just give a gentle blow with the broomstick, it will go unconscious,” he said and began explaining the scientific reasons, for which I could hardly lend my ears.

With no luck in sight till the next morning, we called the pest control guy. Simultaneously we ordered for a ‘same day delivery’ mouse trap. Meanwhile we bought some gum-boards meant to attract rodents and get stuck. We kept some bread crumps on them, additionally. Next morning the crumps were missing, and so was the rat. It just left its footprints to express its gratitude for the dinner. 

The next night also it visited, without getting caught. But a never-say-die, we persisted with our efforts, this time reinforced with rat-trap. Also, in the customary prayer before going to bed, Mami made a special request to Lord Ganesha, “Oh Lord, please persuade your Mooshika Vahanam, to get into the rat-trap. We swear we will not harm him, but will leave him safe way beyond Turahalli forest, sure of greener pastures. With our frugal food habits, 3195 may not be the supreme abode for him to spend the rest of his life.” The prayer was answered.  

It was just 4 am. But we could no longer wait till the day broke. We made our way slowly to the kitchen and were the happiest couple in the world to see the rat trying to hide himself within the cage. Had we been a little younger, we would have jumped with joy. Not any longer. With extra care we shifted the trap from kitchen to the balcony where we kept it for public view (read: neighbours’ view) till 8 am this morning.

At 8 on the dot,  in a Red Wine Grand I-10 car, 2013 model, escorted by two gents and two ladies with only a military band not in attendance, began the farewell journey in slow motion to bid him adieu at Turahalli, hopefully for ever. 

The last minute fright. As we released him pointing to the forest, he turned towards us instead as though to jump back into the car. Probably not, but just to say thank you. 

(If you have any comments, please write them not in Telegram or WhatsApp, but in the Post a Comment column of the Blog.  It then stays with the blog. Thanks.)

Case of the Missing Brass Tharpana-Vattai

The Yajur Upakarma 2024 was on the cards.  Viswanathan (3161), ably assisted by Usha, was toying with the idea of repeating last year’s feat - of helping interested residents perform a mass pithru tarpanam as opposed to individually at home. 

Murali (6173), fondly called the Man Friday by our Seniors’ Group, had in fact mooted earlier the idea to Viswanathan. With him giving the green signal, it was all set. Murali made a phone call, and Pandit-ji was arranged. “Anything else?” Murali asked, always helpful. 

Now the venue for the Khanda Rishi tarpanam. Back in the village, it would be performed on the banks of a river or on the footsteps of the village pond. Here the head count would be around 15 with their bags full - pancha patram, uddarani, til, rice, one small chombu for water, betalnut leaves, supari, banana, Dakshina, floor mat, and token prasadam made at home. It would be a house full show in anyone’s drawing room with everyone squeezing, in a spirit of swalpa adjust madi. Yes, the Viswanathans were only happy to host it. Usha insisted that all should have at least a sip of coffee. Everyone had come after breakfast. Still they couldn’t say no. 

Arriving a little late, Panditji clarified that at the previous place some members reported late for the session. Once settled down, he lost no time in distributing poonal, darbhai, etc. He did a good job of reciting the mantras for us to repeat. The chanting session was good except on two counts. One, some members chose to begin the chant even before Pandit-ji had finished the last word. The other, Pandit-ji would begin his next mantra even before the group had uttered in full the earlier one. Consequently we (or, just I?) missed the first word of each mantra. It is devotion that matters, I consoled myself – to cover my lapse.

Some ladies who had accompanied their spouses promptly abandoned their little assistance at the kitchen and rushed to the drawing room to videograph the event, guess - focusing more on their own family.

The propitiation of ancestors over, each one got busy collecting one’s own items. There was some confusion with all vessels, tumblers, jumbled together. “Is this yours, sir”? “No, not mine,” replied the other. “Then it must be mine,” he felt reassured and put it in his bag. Then there was another who held an item high in his hand and announced: “Whose is this anyway,” he asked. The owner hesitated a while to claim. It was not in the best of shape; apparently he didn’t want it to be displayed in full view, as though it was being auctioned.

Everyone felt happy at the arrangements and thanked the Viswanathans profusely - and Murali, in passing. Not all knew that he had arranged the priest. Murali didn’t mind. He is committed to Karmanneva  adhikaraste...

Last Monday was Amavasai. A hectic day for me – morning walk, Amavasai tarpanam, and attend Slokam class at 11 am. When settling down for tarpanam I found my brass tarpana-vattai missing. All the three members present (our domestic help was at work then) swung into action. No luck. Time was running out. Good at make-do, my wife gave me a stainless similar vessel though many argue that only brass vessel should be used. Occasional deviation is excusable, I consoled myself.

The hunting mission starts for the Tarpana-vattai. I rang up Viswanathan if he had any items of the Yajur Upakarma left unclaimed in his house. “No, but what exactly are you looking for,” he came straight to the point. I explained to him. He consoled me that one member had since returned Viswanathan’s stainless steel glass, not just it, but filled with tasty pudding. It got mixed up someone else’s bag.  “Maybe, something better is in store for you,” he reassured me. Meanwhile in his own inimitable way he set in motion Operation Tarpana-vattai.

One member had just dumped his bag in the attic to be used next year. His relative visiting him had also joined. His set of vessels were also in the bag. Upon getting the query he had it checked; sent a photo of one patram to ascertain if it was ours. It was. He promptly brought it home with a few apples along. We had coffee together and he left after a brief chat. 

Watching in TV the first Murder Case I followed in teens

After lunch both of us sat down to watch the last twenty minutes of Mammootty’s movie, Turbo. Yes, more often we are forced to watch in instalments thanks to the post-lunch chloroform that begins taking effect. The movie over in a jiffy. It was too early for a nap. 

I browsed through the various platforms. I stumbled upon the Hindi movie, Rustom. I thought it was a remake of the film I had seen featuring Dara Singh, based on Sohrab and Rustam - the story of Sohrab, the Tartar hero, who fights Rustum, the Persian chieftain, in single combat, not knowing that he is truly his father. When Sohrab receives the fatal blow, he tells the opponent not to be overjoyed; one day his father Rustam would take revenge on him. A touching story.

So, with all keenness I switched on to re-live the story. In the next three minutes, alas, I realized the movie was based on the Nanavati Murder case, featuring Akshay Kumar. No problem. Equally welcome. 

For the uninitiated, the Nanavati Murder case happened in 1959. Nanavati, a naval officer, and Prem Ahuja, a businessman, were friends. Nanavati was at sea on duty for months on. Prem Ahuja and N’s wife developed illicit relations. N came to know of it and shot Ahuja dead at point blank range. 

This was the first case that I followed in life as it unfolded. I was just 19. My uncle had just brought me to Delhi to look for a job. He subscribed to the tabloid, Blitz by B.K. Karanjia, and the political magazine, Mother India, by Baburao Patil. The two were at daggers drawn when it came to taking stands in this case - Blitz for a lenient view to Nanavati, and Mother India for sterner punishment.

Both my uncles – the elder and the younger ones – would argue the case vigorously for and against, while I watched them with open-mouthed awe.  I thought it was time I gave my input as well and began following the case in both these tabloids as well as in Hindustan Times. Consequently, I was able to offer my two cents to the discussions. 

Though just taken up a job and leading a frugal life, occasionally I allowed myself to buy the Evening News as I boarded the bus from office, as and when I could not resist the newspaper boy’s tempting announcements of the contents.

It was nice re-living that episode, though in the movie there was a liberal sprinkle of sub plots to accentuate cinematic effects. I was able to relate most of the moves by the media to influence the jury, and many other instances. The jury found him Not Guilty with Eight in favour and One against. The case went to a higher court where it found him guilty and ordered imprisonment. As per reports it was nearly after this case that the jury system was discontinued.

On a fact check, I understand that Nanavati was at one time close to V K Krishna Menon when he was the High Commissioner in London, and Krishna Menon to Nehru. Public support for Nanavati mounted and Prem Ahuja’s sister herself wrote a letter to accord pardon to Nanavati. These aided Vijayalakshmi Pandit, then Governor of Maharashtra, to grant him pardon - three years later. Upon release, the family – Nanavati, his wife and three children – moved to Canada where N died in 2003 and, later Mrs N moved to a home for assisted living. 

It was altogether an engaging three hours for me, but much to the annoyance of the lady of the house who felt she could not watch it undisturbed what with my knowledge-sharing interventions. Nonetheless, “I say, you look for such movies that you can relate and share some side stories as well,” she said by way of yet another rare compliment.

Narayan celebrates Bheema Ratha Shanti (70+ years of life)

Google describes Bheema Ratha Shanti as completion of 70 years of life, embodying the essence of wisdom, experience and longevity. And when applied to Narayan, our family friend in the previous apartment complex, he enjoys all these in full measure.

These milestone birthdays are supposed to be conducted by the offsprings. Hence some delay is inevitable, to fit in with their convenience. Precisely why the celebration got delayed till Narayan was 76.  It’s better to be late than never. 

His son Mani, daughter-in-law Namita, their young children had just landed from Calgary, Canada. Priya, the elder daughter - dentist by qualification but a full-time independent entrepreneur - had just rescheduled her business commitments simultaneously ensuring that her daughter is fully geared for various engineering-entrance exams. Sarasa, Narayan’s sahadharmini’s hands were full what with arranging the caterer and the family’s accredited purohit, Ganesha Vadhyar - from whom to get a date is difficult. Narayan’s three younger brothers and only sister Pushpa divided the rest of the responsibilities. As though to distinguish from the rest of the gathering, all the four menfolk sported a brick-red shirt, with a matching dhoti. What a united family.

Many feared that the threatening thunderstorm and piercing downpour the preceding night might play spoilsport to dwindle attendance next morning. Nay, everyone turned up, and the Malleswaram hall got filled slowly but surely. After all, it was a Narayan-Sarasa function, and few would miss it.

For me, the visit proved an occasion to meet my old Srishti Apts friends. Luckily, they were as much overjoyed as we were. The Kannans accompanied us to the dining hall – no, not to join us for breakfast – but to make us comfortable. Any talk with Kannan always sharpens your skills in investment, though I am way past that stage. Ashok, who joined later, said he believed in making short-term profits. 

Vijaya Nandakumar is busy holding yoga classes to the residents.  The Hebbars, the do-gooders, have shifted. Suspecting that I had not recognized her, Mrs Hebbar asked me if I could place her. “Why not Ma’am. The Hebbars and Visweswarans would have been neighbours of Puneet Rajkumar in Total Environment Yelahanka if only Puneet had not become dearer to God.” 

Another friend expressed grouse that his age-old suggestion to construct a hall above the club house still does not find favour with the Association. The Bhashyams confided that they were turning spiritual. Sudha, Srikant’s wife, not to be outdone, said she was both learning and teaching Sanskrit – more of grammar. “You mean, aham, avaam, vayam; or Ramaha, Ramau, Ramaaha..,” I asked. She smiled.

The Shenoys, whose son’s wedding was the last occasion when we met Srishti-ites in one go, repeated their invitation to visit their abode on our next visit and whispered into my ears ‘don’t make it just to Narayan’s house, ok?’ The retired Vice Chancellor, as also Avanchi the technocrat shared how they were usefully engaged in ‘giving it back to the society’. The chat with Bharti and Jaya – m-i-l/d-i-l is always engaging, as also Sreedhar-Raji. Sashi extended us an invitation to visit her in Jakarta -  we will all go to Bali as well.’ Anu updated us on her new acquisitions – this time a 4 BHK apartment. 

Lakshmi, the lady who was responsible for the upkeep of our home in Hebbal, and an inseparable member of the Sarasa family, was happy to see us both. She introduced her daughter to us. She had come alone in her car and was waiting for her husband to come in his car separately. What a welcome transition.

Ajit was another invitee. He would drive Narayan’s car for their outstation trips. He was delighted when I hailed him by his name. In the short spell with him, he shared with that Ravi, another accredited driver who later changed profession to sell hot thatte idlis in Mandya, and another one, had passed away... “I am at your call for any Saturday, Sunday trips, sir,” he assured me. 

‘Aseervadam time’, came the announcement.  A me-first frenzy to the stage. Narayans made sure that no guest returned home without a return gift - one that everyone would love to see every morning and evening lit up in their puja room.

Time to return to Sobha Forestview, though not fully happy having met old friends to our heart’s content. “I say, we must visit them more often,” we swore to ourselves emphatically, as we did on earlier occasions while boarding  flights back to Bangalore – and never did. 

A Day with Arvind is a Day Well Spent

In every family there will be a happy-go-lucky person who is a star attraction among the members. Arvind takes the cake in Samikutty Anna – nay, Meenakka; nay, both - family. I would leave to someone else to name the Mr Serious or stickler guy. I won’t; I wish to be hailed a nice guy.

Arvind spreads around a feel of happiness, joy and gaiety wherever he goes. If there is someone who can make the likes of Rasas and Manis laugh their lungs out, it is Arvind. A visit to a near or distant relative in any city that he happens to be in, is given. More than these, the mainstay of any of his visits is to capture the moments in snaps and share. Yes, one and only in the family. Kudos.

And so, when he telephoned from Ayodhya, “Chittappa Chitti, all of us are coming to your place on 30th for lunch, or dinner, as is convenient,” we were thrilled. “Any special dish you would prefer,” I quipped. “No, just leave it to Chitti. Make it simple. I know she is still on drops after cataract operation of both eyes.” 

“Chittappa,” he added, “just possible we might bring Sreelatha’s parents also; they are likely to come to Bangalore to see us off to US”. “Most welcome,” I reassured. Yes, it was quite some time since I got a first-hand account from Ganapathy (Sreelatha’s father) the ‘treatment miracles’ of his touch-therapist in Coimbatore. According to him, the beneficiaries include one who got rid of his diabetes (read Ganapathy himself), another patient was able to move up and down in twenty minutes while still in his clinic, his right-foot thumb which had come to grinding halt since a few days. In another case... Well, any more of this would turn this piece into a narrative on Ganapathy rather than our protagonist Arvind.

“Chittappa, on way to Sobha Forestview shall I pick up something from Natraj Chole Bhature (of Pahar Ganj fame) from their JP Nagar outlet?” he quipped, never tired of trying out Chole Bhature from various sources (and rating them) – Evergreen, and Bengali Sweets in Delhi, from Sangam and Anands in Bangalore, and from Lucknow and Ayodhya during his recent trip to North. (No doubt, he spent some time with Kichanna Manni, Kannan and others) 

“Arvind, I thought you were coming to our place to have lunch prepared by Chitti. Just drive straight to Sobha Forestview. Okay?”  Yes, sometimes only sentences with a touch of command works with him.

We were delighted to see Sreelatha having near-fully recovered, and back with her infectious smile, Manni stayed above ground with joy having returned to India after months/years of stay in US for green-card processing. Both Darsh and Avyay, with their continued paavam looks, continued with their fulltime warfare – sometimes aiming pillow cushions, sometimes for supremacy for the remote control, sometimes trying to climb the balcony railing giving anxious moments to Sreelatha whom we thought was fully busy in the ladies’ group conversation. Yes, a mother’s eyes.

Manni took charge of Bhagavatam and Narayaneeyam for discussions - with Lalitha making unsuccessful bids to interrupt with her forays into them. Bhanu (Sreelatha’s mother) picked the thread from where Ganapathy had left (now on a short nap after an early morning train journey from Coimbatore) with the touch-therapist story. She herself was undergoing treatment for leg pain – with neither positive nor negative results. “But,” she added, “good, considering that in allopathy we end up paying for both doctor and medicine, here we don’t have to buy medicines.” A silver lining indeed.

It was time for snacks. Lalitha ordered online samosas and bread-pakodas (king size, a la Delhi style) which Zepto delivered even before she had switched off the mobile. She had opted for Cash on Delivery. Noted for future.

Oh, it was past 5.30, and it was drizzling as well. Fear engulfed that they should reach Brigade Gardenia before it turns into a downpour. Arvind ordered for an Innova which could accommodate all. As is wont, the allotted vehicle was different. Arvind and Sreelatha stayed back, sent the others, making sure Ganapathy has his purse to make payment. Arvind ordered another cab and the two left after a few minutes. 

A little disappointed after a day of merriment, we returned to 3195 from Gate No. 3 – to be back to the usual grind. 

Doctor’s Day – Down the Memory Lane

 (Names changed)

Now it is Doctor’s Day in India. That rekindles childhood memories when I dreaded two objects. First, the police, with his untouched-by-body uniform, burly hair all over the body, and the baton. Second, the doctor whom, as a child, I visualized charging towards me with a needle in hand.

Strictly speaking, in my case it should be Grandma’s Day. She was my healer, caregiver and doctor till adolescence. She would ask my mother to pluck from our backyard 2 pieces of leaf-1 (sorry I am not sure of the names), 4 pcs of leaf 2, and 1 of leaf 3. She would crush them, add pepper, jeera, etc., from the kitchen shelf and boil them in say 5 glasses of water till it was reduced to 1 glass. Not always a cooperative patient, she would adopt Kautilya’s method – sama, dana, bheda, danda. This was till I was 10 years. To compensate for having prevailed upon me to drink it, she would give me a teaspoon of honey. And starts the fight between the bitter decoction and honey for supremacy in lingering taste.  

On the rare occasions when Grandma’s prescription did not work she would wait at the front-yard for Manikkam Pillay for his round between 2.30 and 3.30 pm. He was the de facto village Apothecary with an unkempt hair, humming Lord Muruga’s hymns, as he carried the antique leather-bag passed down the generation that now bulges from all directions refusing to buckle all the home-made medicines and bottles into its fold.  

Slowly but steadily from home remedies and Ayurveda villagers migrated to modern medicine. Emerges Compounder Krishna Iyer of our village, hitherto attached to a doctor. He went independent and did well.  One seldom visited a doctor for headache, fever, or stomach pain. He was very good at his job, but temperamentally he had a knack of rubbing the wrong shoulder with almost everybody. Thus, we children felt remedy was worse than the disease. 

At the same time, we were equally hesitant to go to the LMP doctor (Licentiate Medical Practitioner) - also in my village. No sugary syrup or chocolaty Brooklax tablet. For anything and everything he would prescribe a glass of sour buttermilk twice a day. No wonder he came to be known as ‘sour buttermilk doctor’. But I am told, it is very effective.

The epidemic of plague or cholera surfaced. Dr Ramabhadran, MBBS, who enjoyed a better patronage, was summoned. Children would get inoculated first. But no child came forward for fear of the pain. Ten minutes of infructuous wait, and the doctor pulled me gently and said, “See Sundaram here. I know he is a brave boy (he hardly knew me, except as Samikutty’s son). You will watch him take the inoculation without any fuss.”  I succumbed to his flattery and found it difficult not to live up to it. The inoculation was painful but I managed to pretend otherwise. The doc patted on my back, and asked others to line up. What everybody feared would end up a flop turned a total success.

My grandfather, an advocate by profession, befriended Dr Pisharody, a homeopathic physician. Sabarimala trips was the bonding factor. Soon he switched over to homeopathy. One afternoon, with still two hours to go for the evening tiffin, I was frantic to grab something. Couldn’t lay my hands on anything. My mother knew me too well and was equal to the occasion. I spotted the homeopathy pills. Tasted one or two. Sugary. Gulped more. Result? Uninterrupted purging. My Aunt, 8 or 10 years older and more a friend, interrogated me left and right and had me cough up the truth. Once bitten, twice shy. So much for my tryst with homeopathy.

I joined WHO. It was doctors, nay, international experts all the way - on leprosy, tuberculosis, malaria, polio, smallpox - from the 193 member countries, on visits or appointments. Luckily, I was part of the team that managed, inter alia, publication of the in-house journal, I had thus the privilege to interview many of them, including a Nobel Laureate, and publish them. 

No less, my own extended family houses far more than a mere handful of doctors – paediatrics, gastroenterology, urology, anaesthesia, dentistry, plastic surgery – and a few others whose disciplines I am yet to know. Kala, Shoba, Anju and others, please update me on your children.

Yes, service to the suffering humanity is the real worship of God. Long live doctors and their spirit of service.

Father’s Day – Recollection

My father was born with a silver spoon in his mouth – filthy rich by the then standards. Stretched till now, it is a story of rags to riches to rags, to normal.

Centuries ago, our ancestors moved from Thanjavur to Palakkad, in search of greener pastures. The first one began earning his livelihood by selling bath towels going around on bicycle from village to village in Palakkad, and managed to open a small shop later. Down the generations, the shop was shifted to the central business area, upgraded from retail to also wholesale, gradually opened branches in Ernakulam, Coimbatore, Madras, Pondicherry, and Bombay. 

My father was still in his teens, studying in class 8. The teacher was taking the class. Out of the blue, he posed a question to my father who was in his own world. His question and my dad’s answer were poles apart - like, the teacher asking him: What are the mines in Kerala, and he responding: Teak, rosewood, bamboo…  

The entire class burst into laughter. The teacher took it as an affront – on his ability, or the lack of it, to get messages across to pupils. He ordered him to stand up on the bench. A co-ed school, this command did not go well with my flamboyant father. Instead, he stuffed his books into the bag and walked out of the class – nay, school – never to return.

Grandpa knew my dad’s adamance a little too well. He asked my dad to accompany him to the shop daily thereafter. There he found my dad to be adept in calculations. He could mentally calculate the correct amount to be charged for 1.3 yards of a cloth at 9-1/2 annas per yard (the currency of those days). A key factor for a brisk business house. No calculators. Only a slate and pencil, if need be. My dad did not use even those. Soon he was into shop’s activities neck deep.

They say God does everything with a purpose. My grandpa passed away at a young age of 42 or 46. My dad was able to take over and take it to a level to be hailed the golden age of our business. 

Sedentary job, two fulsome pure ghee jhangiris thrice a week from Veerakutti Hotel, began to tell on his health. He became overweight. Doctor advised him to walk from shop to Fort Maidan and back (nearly eight kilometers) every evening. “Doc, but evenings are brisk-business hours. How can I?” “Health or wealth, the choice is yours,” declared the no-nonsense doctor. Thereafter dad stuck to two things: never missed his walk; and never took dinner - just a glass of milk. And from fat he became fit

INTERVAL

Come World War II with a bang. No fresh imports possible – had to make-do with existing stock till the sky cleared. Ample scope for goods to go underground and to be sold at double the price. Government jumped in promptly. To control inflation, Government fixed prices and insisted on stamping them on the cloth.  This resulted in our having to sell at par, or even below par. Seeing an imminent downfall, the creditors began to ask for their pound of flesh. Result, closure of business. From rags to riches, and  to rags again. 

Dad had to look for avenues to eke out a living. Thus, from a textile moghul, he scaled down to a textile agent. He took owners of small business houses to Bombay and got them goods on six months credit solely on his credentials. This had its own disadvantages. For one of two  transactions he got his commission; thereafter these business houses placed orders directly. Triangular transactions became bilateral - direct between buyer and seller. Father knew this was an in-built disadvantage. Something is better than nothing.

Time flew. He married off both his daughters. The three of us, his sons, took up jobs in Bombay and Delhi. He was past his sixties He began experiencing difficulty swallowing food. Tests pointed towards possible esophagus-malignant. Was referred to Tata Memorial in Bombay. Influence was brought to bear to have Dr Praful Desai, the Medical Director examine him. He did and wrote ADCO (T) on the prescription pad and handed it to the Matron for further action. I could make out that ADCO meant Adrenocarcinoma but was clueless on ‘(T)’.  I ran behind the Matron and asked her in Malayalam, “Chechi, what’s  meant by (T)?” ‘Malayalee”? she asked as she turned back, and whispered into my ears, T means Terminal. But we are not supposed to tell you this, I will lose my job. This also means, another six months to two years max. 

A true prediction. Just a few days before completing two years he breathed his last. 

(The least tribute I could pay to my father)

Kaleeswaran’s Mother (7211), All Rounder, No More

Smt B.V. Meenakshi, Kaleeswaran’s mother, passed away last night. That was my mother’s name too, but K’s mother always called me her younger brother. The family celebrated her 97th birthday ten days ago in a nearby care-home.

Never in a hurry, communion with God in the prayer room takes the best part of her time before she takes her lunch around 2.30. During her free times she hums Carnatic songs, chants stotrams, and watches her favourite Tamil serials. In the last activity her one and only son Kaleeswaran  also joins her, sitting by her side. She is so much into Carnatic music that if someone is introduced to her, she would sing a song featuring his/her name. If it is Krishnan, she would sing, “Krishna nee begane baro….”  If it is Lalitha, she would sing “Lalithambika Chintayamyaham…”; or if it is Hari, it is, “Hari smarana mado niranthara…” Simply fantastic off-the-cuff utterances. 

In the home for the aged where she has been lodged for some months, she is a star attraction. Very popular not just among the nurses (to each of whom she has given a name of her own), but with the inmates as well. A great entertainer. The nurses would give her (and her alone) an affectionate hug and kiss on cheek before leaving for home. And during their spare time, they would chat with her and enjoy her jokes.

The family belongs to Madurai. Mami is Meenakshi; mama, Sundaram. How the names coincide with the presiding deity of Madurai – Meenakshi  Sundareswarar. Mami’s husband was a Carnatic music teacher, pedaling his way to various homes to take music classes to students. Mami is also a music teacher and an accomplished singer. She used to give performances to an audience of 50 to 100. On many occasions, the upcoming (and later famous) Madurai Somu would stealthily come and hide behind the architectural pillar in the temple to hear Mami, in order to absorb the nuances. Yes, this reminds me of the Tamil movie, Thillana Mohanambal, where Sivaji Ganesan, a nadaswaram player, would stealthily watch Padmini dancing. And the apt number: Maraindhirundhu Paarkum (read: ketkum – listening) Marumam Enna… Yes, a music family. No wonder, Kaleeswaran is the star attraction for Tamil and Hindi film songs at many get-togethers.

Till such time Mami stayed in SFV, Koma, a dutiful daughter-in-law, made sure her mother-in-law got her favourite item – Rasam. Herself a daughter of a hotel owner in Delhi (where I used to go daily for snacks at lunch in Jantar Mantar), Koma included Rasam in the menu everyday – paruppu rasam, jeera rasam, good rasam, Mysore rasam, pepper rasam, ginger rasam…

On Mami’s 97th birthday, ten days ago, the Kaleeswarans ordered a two-kilo cake from an SFV expert and organized a get-together with all inmates. Many of them stretched their paper plate, “some more, please”. Unlike in Charles Dickens’ novel, Oliver Twist, where when the nine-year old Oliver asks Mr Bumble, “Please sir, I want some more,” the master aims a blow at Oliver’s head, here Kaleewaran and Koma happily obliged them without even ascertaining whether they had BP or sugar. Yes, on a joyous occasion such as that, a bit of indulgence doesn't go amiss.

Kaleeswaran’s elder daughter Swathi had landed from USA a few days ago with her baby and hubby; his second daughter Lavanya landed yesterday from Canada; his two younger sisters and one brother in law, all from Delhi, arrived today – all to be part of Swathi’s daughter’s first birthday tomorrow; not to speak of Kaleeswaran’s elder sister and brother in law from Chennai.  Yes, Almighty has his own way of organizing things. He arranged a peaceful end to the pious lady, and befitting farewell with all members present, be it in the garb of some other occasion. 

Om Shanti. 

Marriage Next door - a la Destination Wedding

I bet very few in SFV would know Radhakrishnan (RK) and Anita; or, for that matter their son Aditya, my neighbours at 3194. Their movements are calculated to attract the minimum of attention. Wonder if it is genetic. If being confined to oneself is the hallmark of one’s enlightened life, this family scores 10 out of 10. This is not to say they are insensitive to the happenings around. They are very much part of it, but are best at deciding thus far, no further.

Against this backdrop Aunty and I were extremely delighted when, a few months ago, RK and Anita knocked at our doors, stepped in, asked us to stand together for them to prostate and take our blessings. “You are the first ones we convey the good news. We have identified a girl for Aditya. The family lives in Bangalore. We plan to have the engagement ceremony soon. Please bless us.”

Aunty did not let this happy news go uncelebrated. She dug out from the kitchen shelves some yet to diminish sweets, and shared with them along with coffee and A2B and Adukale snacks which we seldom go out of stock, even if Ratnadeep does.

This was months ago. Last Saturday-Sunday we attended Aditya and Pooja’s Reception and marriage. Sorry, I forgot to introduce to you Pooja’s family. She is a US citizen by birth. Her parents lived in the US for ages till Pooja’s father’s parents became too old to live alone in Bangalore. Pooja’s parents lost no time to shift to Bangalore bag and baggage. A son any parents would feel proud of. They are now here in Bangalore for some years. 

Getting an alliance with a family where the girl’s parents were willing to make a relocation sacrifice at the height of his career in order to care for the elderly in India, obviated both RK and Anita the need for any kind of background check.

Back to the marriage, guess the venue? It was in Rajhans Garden, off Silk Institute. Though the road to the venue may not remind you of Rajpath in Delhi – where one sees the Republic Day parade, yet once you are in Rajhans, it looks nothing short of a wedding destination, though I have not attended one. I was told this is one such. Yes, apparently. When we were driving for Reception, we did not need any Google map. From afar we could see a high-end illumination nearly three quarters of a kilometer in length. And, after parking the car, we had to climb an elevation for a rather long stretch before we could join the mass of invitees. Good ambience, ample space including for car parking…

Sunder Rajan, Kamakshi Caterers, was entrusted with food arrangements. At the Reception the guests were entertained with a spread of starters, chats, and South and North Indian foods, and a variety of sweets. The dosa counter alone had ghee dosa, masala dosa, plain dosa, some other dosa, with different chutneys and sambar to go with. Rice items included pulav, biryani (?), plain rice, etc. Tandoor roti, phulka, mutter paneer and daal makhani were among the North delicacies. Desserts included moong dal halwa, rabri, ice cream and gulab jamun to top it. And, of course, different kinds of pan for the road. A nice fare, if only one can accommodate a sample of each. 

Guessing that it is an early Muhurtam and many might prefer to have a heavy breakfast and drive back to their long destinations – Chennai, Coimbatore, etc. – rather than wait for lunch, a sumptuous fare was on the table. For the muhurtam meals, it was a mix of Tamil, Karnataka and Kerala delicacies, with eye-watering pickle that reminded one of Andhra.  

Luckily rain chose not play spoil sport on both occasions, and waited till the afternoon.

The newly-wed couple, Aditya, working at the gym on double shift since a month, and Pooja, already slim and trim, looked very charming – made for each other or, ek duje ke liye. We know Aditya for his infectious smile, and Pooja seemed no less. We wish them long years of happy married life.