Monkeys Out; Snakes In

“Vaalu (tail) poi, Kathi (knife) vanthathu Dum Dum …”  Kathi poi Viraku (firewood) vanthathu Dum Dum…,’ then Dosai; Earthern pot, till the chameleon ends up getting a Drum. It goes about merrily beating it and singing thus. 

That is among the umpteen rhymes and stories that my grandma used to tell us while she relaxed in the front yard in the late evenings to enjoy gentle breeze. We siblings fought for turns to rest on her lap and listen to her. 

In a somewhat similar vein, there has been a systematic intrusion, if not invasion, of animals, from our Thurahalli tiny animal kingdom.  First the leopard did rounds sending shockwaves to the peace-loving SFVians. The Forest officials, sitting in the comforts of their office, reassured us, ‘not to worry’, that this species kept changing its habitat frequently and would move soon to some other hunting ground. Sannatta chhaya hua tha during that short span, though. Even the peacocks which used to start their day in the wee hours with gay abandon calling their comrades in arms to join them stopped this for fear of being hunted.  

Then came the monkeys – now an annual fare. They are still here, probably on the last lap, for the younger ones to get hands-on training. Nonetheless, we shall safeguard our inventory of vegetables and fruit, more so the mangoes - the last crop of the season.

Now the reptiles have taken over. The other day a resident wrote that she spotted a long snake passing through Gate-1 and asking everyone, the kids especially, to be careful while passing by.

Last week it was the turn of a five-feet cobra to show up, near Gate-3. Its movement lacked swiftness - either it had just gobbled something for breakfast (though no symptomatic bulge inside), or, as someone rightly reported, he was sick. Regardless, the video was scary.

This spot where the cobra was negotiating its escape has some special significance for me. It is here that I used to wait for my taxi at Gate-3. And the guard would graciously offer me his chair. Hereafter I will be sure to move the chair a little further to provide ample space for the reptile just in case he decides to re-visit the spot. You never know. Psychologists say that when a person commits a crime, he makes it a point to visit the crime site later. Here the snake might not have committed any crime per se, but he might re-visit the place from where the snake-catchers so kindly provided him the great escape to his habitat.

The hullaballoo over after the snake-catcher swiftly got the reptile sneak into his bag, the senior morning walkers rejoined their respective Rajadhatri, Vidyarthi Bhavan, A2B, or Krishna Dwaraka groups, as they are called.  Yes, each group frequented these restaurants at least once a week, more to disallow their cars from refusing to start. 

In the chat that ensued for the rest of the rounds, some shared their encounters with the snakes. Instead of the age-old style, “Once upon a time…,’ each started thus: “When I was in Meghalaya….’  only to be interrupted a moment before the climax by another. “Oh my God, when I was passing through Agumbe…,” with yet another taking over… ‘When I was on a field trip to Nilambur forest…’  each trying to be one up. The few who did not have a story to narrate resigned themselves to just being listeners, for a change.

The group dispersed in different directions - one for a haircut of what the hairdresser can hopefully trace, one to the flower-hawker, yet another to Ratnadeep to buy a bunch of Yelakki bananas for our Vedic chant he was hosting that day, while one headed to the lift praying that at least one lift be in working condition. 

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Our ‘Bhajan’ Ravi Celebrates 60 Years

Ravichandran, of 8022 Alder.  celebrated his 60th birthday at Club House last evening.  Everything about the family is simple, grounded.

I can’t claim any prior closeness with Ravi. I knew of him since he moved to SFV after I did. Once acquainted, I realized two things bind us. First, we both were Delhi-ites. Thus, on the few occasions we cross shoulders we recall Delhi days – the irresistible Paharganj chole bhature, mouth-watering sweets of Nathus and Evergreen; the golgappa (paani puri) of Shahjahan Road, or the Ram-kela raw mango, best for Avakkai pickle from Sarojini Nagar market. The conversation often ended with ‘Delhi is Delhi’- a la Tejashwi Surya, South Bangalore MP, who said recently after his exhaustive tour abroad, ‘Bangalore is Bangalore’.

Second, Ravi and I love bhajans with just one difference. He is an accomplished Sampradaya Bhajan specialist - say classical. He is synonymous with Namma Sankeertanam, getting a slot every year at the prestigious Alangudi Bhajanotsav, along with the greats of Udayalur Kalyanaraman, OS Sundar, and others. 

In sharp contrast, with the exodus of Namavali bhajan singers from my native village leaving in the 1950s for Bombay, Madras, Calcutta or Delhi to eke out a living, the likes of me, novice, took charge of Ekadasi bhajans with little musical leanings, be they the simple light music variety.  And the poor villagers, on their side, sat through such sessions solely for the prasadam at the end. 

Ravi is a multi-faceted personality. He is a dutiful son. Yesterday when I asked his mother on Ravi, she said, ‘he leaves nothing to be desired – Shravan Kumar in short.’ What better compliment can a son ask for. He is a loving husband – doesn’t matter takes appointment to talk to Lalitha amidst her umpteen sharpening-skill efforts on religious subjects – learning Narayaneeyam, Tirupugaz... A caring father Ravi has groomed his boys well. His first son is all set to defend his PhD thesis after completing his MS from a US University. The second did his MBA and padded it up with a post-graduate diploma in music to take over as a Business Executive in a music company. He is an accomplished piano player as well.

In professional life, Ravi did his B. Com Hons, and Cost Accountancy (ICWA).  His last assignment was as CFO and Finance Director of Honeywell in Bangalore. Alas, his love for music got the better of him. He went on a sabbatical to give music a try and never looked back. He is now fully submerged in his primary passion, music. And, just not to let the benefit of his education go unavailed, he teaches ‘Finance’ part-time in PES University for B Com and MBA students.  

Music being the name of the game, this piece will be incomplete without a mention of the musical extravaganza that ran through the celebrations – piano recital by Ravi’s son, a popular Tamil song by Ravi, accompanied on piano by his son; and SFV stalwarts taking charge for karaoke songs in Hindi. The notable song for the occasion, from my standpoint, was the Balraj Sahni song in Waqt, Tu abhi tak hai haseen… Ravi joined the fun, to be able to address Lalitha thus. He searched for her in vain. She was taking care of the guests. Pulkit, our security staff, rendered a number in flute, and the relative of another security staff sang a bhajan number and a film song. 

Catering was probably entrusted to Sundara Rajan – Kamakshi caterers. Going by the nala-paham taste of the food, it would seem he is determined to retain his original coveted position which some youngsters threatened to usurp.

A man for all seasons, a man of many parts, or everything rolled into one, might explain Ravi better. Kudos. The community will look forward to your celebrating Bhima Ratha Shanti (70 years), Shatabhishekam (80 years), Kanakabhishekam (90 years) - and sau saal in good health and happiness. Jug jug jio my friend.

An evening well spent. 

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OTT Releases – My Take on some

Thudarum (‘to be continued’) Malayalam, Thriller, Jio Hotstar: Once again we get a taste of the Drishyam series – riveting. Here it is all about how a contended and happy taxi driver’s life gets entangled at the hands of police. The police officer, George (Prakash Verma), a debutant, does an outstanding job. So much so, the established police constables of Malayalam movies can feel a little unsettled. PV is sure to stay here. Mohanlal seems to remind us: “I am not done yet, don’t write me off.” To watch or not?  Well, I liked it a lot, and look forward to Part 2, as the title hints.

Tourist Family. Tamil, Feel-good, Jio Hotstar. I didn’t even know the hero’s name until his performance in Ayothi (Ayodhya), a great success, impressed me. Sasikumar does an equally good job in this comedy drama. The family moves from Sri Lanka to India for greener pastures. What they undergo here to get a footing is what the film is all about. A well-woven story sprinkled with humour. Watch or not? I would love to watch more such genre, as I did with Ayothi where a North Indian family from Ayodhya is on trip to Rameswaram and the trial and tribulations they undergo and how they go back satisfied – North or South, we are all humans.

Stolen. Hindi. Thriller. Amazon Prime. This is a simple story of how a desolate lady with baby in arms goes on a short nap in a railway station for the day to break only to find her baby stolen, and her desperate efforts to find the child. A gripping thriller, based on a true story. The chases, in vehicles or on the run, were all captured well, reminding us of the Hollywood movie Breakdown. Watch or not? Well worth a watch; the length could have been reduced by say fifteen minutes. 

Khankajura (centipede), Hindi, Web-series, SonyLiv. It is a crime thriller about the past deeds and trauma of two brothers played by Mohit Rana and Roshan Mathew. It is an adapted version of an Israel web series.  If the Hindi version could be so gripping, one could guess how the original Israel series would have been. Roshan Mathew proves what he is capable of. A much underrated actor. I was reminded of the likes of Balraj Sahni or Moti Lal of yesteryears where they portray their roles casually – and convincingly. To watch or not? Suffice it to say that my wife and I wanted to view it leisurely in parts and ended up watching the entire series in record time, only to skip the next morning walk.

Ace. Tamil. Amazon Prime.  It is the story of the hero landing in Malaysia seeking a fresh start and gets drawn into a dangerous heist plot. He befriends a rag picker who pretends to be a businessman. To watch or not? Won’t be surprised if some of this hero’s fans themselves suggest skipping it.

Retro (feeling the past). Tamil. Netflix. Truth be told, my wife was not for watching it. I persuaded her to watch this for two reasons. Surya, a talented actor is the hero. Second, Karthik Subbaraj, who has directed the likes of super-star Rajnikant. So, one could expect a minimum fare even if at the face of it we were not clear of what the title conveyed. After waiting for the entire duration, hoping every fifteen minutes later that ‘from now onwards it will get interesting’, we were disappointed, still clueless on the storyline. To watch or not? Well, you can recommend it to someone by way of revenge.

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If Monkeys are in 3192, can 3195 be far behind?

The title is an inspiration from poet Shelley’s lines, ‘If winter is here, can spring be far behind,’ just to fit in with the monkey menace in SFV

I don’t know how it is with you, but I always think that things go wrong only for others. Misfortune happens only to someone else, never to me. Optimism rides supreme despite repeated warnings from well-meaning co-residents, sometimes with photographic evidence, of the menace. Having gone in for a forest- view abode, probably it’s time to live with its attendant advantages and constraints. After all, everything comes with a price. On the plus side we are cut off from vehicular pollution, traffic congestion, or a crowded marketplace. On the flip side the animal fraternity is reigning supreme to reclaim its lost territory. 

My friend and neighbour Hari rang me up over the intercom this morning. “Mama, can you and Mami come to our house quickly please?” It was breakfast time, so I thought that Geetha, the culinary expert always keen to try out what she had watched in the Food channel, had attempted something new for breakfast and they wanted to share it with us. No, not this time. They wanted us, instead, to watch the monkeys make a breakfast of their morning’s acquisitions - chappatis, mixture packet, mangoes, bananas… that they smuggled from Maple 4 flats. 

They were a family of seven – five adults and two kids. The baby monkeys were assigned to sneak through the small window openings or elsewhere, lay their hands on whatever they could, and deposit them safe to the adults waiting on the chajja of 16 and 17 floors of Maple 4. When we went there, they were busy enjoying the booty, sometimes fighting for equal share, and at other times disallowing solitary claim to another item.

“No more taking things easy,” said the lady of my house on hurrying back home. “Close all the glass windows, and lock them,” she ordered; I obeyed, but none worked, they were way past their expiry dates, builder’s lifetime guarantee regardless. 

It is at this time that alternative methods flash past your mind. “Bring the sewing machine oil-can. Possibly if oiled well, these latches might lock,” she persisted. 

It did not strike her that long ago when the sewing machine literally disowned her and began operating on its own terms, she had given it away, along with its paraphernalia, in a sort of riddance move.

“I should have retained the oil can at least. Anyway. All right, then get me the oil-flow regulator from the kitchen.  You know the one I use to regulate the flow of oil while preparing dosa, adai, etc. for you,” she told me in a manner that I was the lone eater in the house. But no time for argument. I managed to lay my hands on it in less time than usual. She applied on all latches with a victorious look. None obliged. The next thirty minutes she spent cleaning the excess oil that was seeping. 

“I think, rather than spending your time on blogs, you should write a strong letter to the builder to come and see the fate of his lifetime guarantee items, See these, the health faucets, the electric switches...Most of them we have begun to buy in  wholesale.”

 “That is all okay for the future. Tell me what we should do for now,” I asked, trying to get her to the point. “How else do you think? Let us just lock the house and go on a vacation for one week – say to Coimbatore and be with Leela Akka, Shanta Akka, and others. After all they have also been inviting us for quite some time. Also, there are a lot of activities taking place in the new Ganesha  and Guruvayoorappan temples in Phases 2 and 3 of the retirement homes. We can get a first hand account as well,” she said.

Kaha monkey menace aur kaha vacation -  अजीब दास्तां है ये, कहाँ शुरू कहाँ खतम 

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Coorg Calling – Part 2 (concluding)

A long trip awaited us on Day 2. Breakfast was arranged at the same hotel where we had lunch on day 1. This time 2/5, inordinate delay as well. We headed to Abbey falls which was in full blast. The wife of the 80-year-old had warned him not to venture. “Why not? When my 85-year-old friend can do it, why not I?” And he climbed all the 154 steps. On return only to realize that I had skipped it. Must have felt cheated.

Then to Bhagamandala temple and Triveni Sangama, the confluence of Kaveri, Kannike and Sujyothi rivers. Nature needs no decoration. ‘Why not we shift our residence here.’ I asked myself.  “No, way,’ wisdom dawned. “By chance if there is no milk at home, you can’t drive 10 km downhill to fetch it. Be happy where you are man. Just enjoy the scenic beauty here and head home,” alerted an inner voice.

Now to Talacauvery, the longest stretch. An arduous uphill drive with occasional throw-up feelings, I wondered if the ordeal was called for. But once I reached the top, the hair-pin and drive, the circuitous route, all became a thing of the past. I can admire with my own eyes the source of the Kaveri river surrounded by the bountiful Nature.

This was followed by a homely lunch, the best part. In her simple house, the elderly lady served us with love and affection a simple but delicious lunch. Long live the lady.

Motor ride in Harangi lake

Now to the Dubare elephant camp where children of all ages fed a row of elephants. Seemed artificial, but sometimes you enjoy watching others enjoy. We took a motor-boat ride which was exciting, but not the unsteadiness one felt while stepping in and out of the boat

The Raja’s seat or garden was next. When free, the King would sit and enjoy the sunset surrounded by the lake, garden and the lustrous greenery.

Back in the bus, the crew offered us this time Badushah and ribbon-pakodas, coffee and tea. Every morning and afternoon they did it but changed the items. On one occasion a fellow passenger asked me: “Uncle, are we here for a tour or for repeated snack sessions?” “Initially I thought for the tour, but now I am not sure.” 

We were at the base at last. The tour manager said that since they were serving only vegetarian food thus far, passengers were on their own for a non-veg dinner should they so decide; the Management would refund Rs 200 to each passenger. We were happy with Shanti Sagar. 

Day 3: Everyone was ready at Reception at 6.30 am with their luggage because the previous evening Santosh’s call was: Tomorrow, Wake up at 5.30, Make up at 6, and Pick up at 6.30.

Omkareswarar temple

We drove to Omkareshwara temple in Madikeri. We were told that the rooftop was of the shape of a mosque dome. There was an invasion and the local king changed the top to mislead and avoid destruction of the temple. 

All work and no fun was no good. The manager kept us engaged with word games: Bahu Nama and 1 to 50 game. That kept us all pleasantly busy for more than an hour. 

We realized the trip would be over soon. I suggested that if everyone contributed some amount we could distribute it among the crew. All agreed. We collected Rs 200 per passenger, and distributed the money to the driver, the tour manager, the guide and the cleaner. They were happy, and so were we. 

The driver stopped at an Udupi restaurant for a buffet lunch – 3/5. “In ten minutes,” announced the tour manager, we will be on the Mysore-Bangalore Expressway, a distance of 140 km.” The driver dropped us near the Rajarajeswari arch in two hours. 

We took a cab and reached SFV. Beaming with joy we said,  ‘Value for money’, ‘Home Sweet Home,’ and with our right foot forward stepped into our supreme abode.

Yes, we started off as co-travellers but became one family in no time – Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam. 

Coorg Calling – Travelogue (Part 1 of 2)

Karnataka abounds in tourist spots – Historic, Religious, Cultural, Architectural, or the Nature. I have seen quite a few - just a drop in the ocean. Lekin koshish jaaree hain (efforts are on).

We were three senior couple, two from SFV. After a joint meet, we first considered and selected the place of visit - Coorg – because we did not want the tour to extend beyond three days. Then came the mode of transport – Innova Crysta, Volvo electric bus from Mysore Road Satellite bus stand, or through a tourist operator. Innova would mean two persons will have to sit at the third row, which could mean suffocating and squeezing. Eliminated that. Volvo would mean we would have to carry the luggage up to Gate 3 or 4 for taking Uber, then carry it to the Volvo bus, and then again take it to the taxi at Madikeri.  Gave up that too. And that gave us the tourist operator option - just carry the luggage upto SFV Gate. At Basavangudi, the operators would transfer them to the bus.

Then comes booking. The easiest way is to book online. But we are a moke hi talaash (looking for opportunities) group. We get away from home at the slightest opportunity and make a day of it. So, days in advance, all the six drove to Basavangudi, had lunch at the 100-year old Udupi Sri Krishna Bhavan, and booked tickets at the tourist operator’s office. 

As the date of departure neared, the weather began to play truant - red alert, orange alert, floods, landslides, safaris closed for tourists, roadblocks, deaths… For the first time we did a negative prayer: “Oh God, please have the operator cancel the trip. If we cancel, no refund at short notice. On top of it, all friends and relatives discouraged us to the hilt, just short of physically holding us back.

It is with such mixed feelings that we boarded the bus last Friday. It was a 35-seater. The bus was in good shape – 4 out of 5. When the boarding was complete, Santosh, the tour manager, welcomed us on the mic, introduced the crew – Lokesh, the guide, Prasanna the driver, and Diwakar to ensure upkeep of the bus (names changed).  He briefly apprised us of the day’s plan. He then asked passengers to introduce themselves. 

“I am …., I retired from…This is our fifth tour with this operator and hope to do several more.” Then the next, “I am …., I retired last year as Regional Manager of … bank. This is our maiden attempt at a long-term tour plan. We hope to continue with this operator if the going is good.” And so introduced everyone. It turned out that I was the senior most, followed by Ramesh at 80 – not happy at being second to someone.

Meanwhile the driver sped fast to take us to the designated restaurant for breakfast - idli, khara bath, kesari bath, vada, dosa, coconut chutney, sambar and coffee or tea - 3/5. Ambience could have been a little better.

Fortified, he drove us to Ranganathittu – the bird sanctuary and lake, with crocodiles moving freely. Strangely, children whom we thought would dread them, requested the boatman to get close to crocodiles. He just smiled. He showed us the migratory birds from Russia, North America, Europe, and several other countries. He pointed to a bird and said that its neck stays yellow for six months and changes colour the next six months. Santosh arranged fresh cane juice for everyone before boarding the bus.

Prasanna stopped at the hotel for lunch – 2.5/5. Then we were taken to the Tibetan Golden Temple. What was offered by the Government of Karnataka as a vast barren land for settlement in the 1950s when the Tibetans had to flee their country in the wake of Chinese invasion, this determined group has converted it into a compact township.  From there we went to Cauvery Nisargadhama (the bamboo forest) and finally to the hotel in Madikeri. Dinner at Shanti Sagar 4/5. End of Day 1. 

Mangoes and Pickles – Recollections

One sees several messages in SFV’s electronic groups: Mango seller arriving soon in Gate 4; tender mango chap now in Gate 5 till 11 am; freshly plucked Sindoori and Badami mangoes from our farm for sale... 

Even in lift one often hears, “yesterday I bought some Imam Pasand and Mallika from the Gate 4 guy - simply delicious”, or, “I bought Appemidi mangoes from Gate 5 for vadu mangai - the best...” 

As a child, I would watch eagerly with my siblings and others in the family as Patti cut the ripe mangoes and distributed equally to all. “You want one of the side portions or the seed portions? She would give us the option. Whatever I chose, I seldom felt happy as I watched others enjoy their selections. In Bangalore we keep trying Imam Pasand, Alphonso, Banganapalli, Badami, Sindoori, Mallika, Malgoa, by turn. As of now, we have called it a day for this season. Moderation is the name of the game, we remind ourselves but do just the opposite. 

My wife got an intercom call from her sister Shanthy, in Cedar: “Akka, this year I have made four types of mango pickles: Avakkai, Vadu mangai, Avakkai with ginger and garlic, and Kanni mangai (non-spicy, more in Kerala). I will send you some. “Don’t do that. I am coming to you with small sample-bottles. Will take just two servings each,” hastened the Lady of the house. 

For my friend in previous apartment, Radhakrishnan Mama, mango-pickle is an annual ritual. Come April or May, he would head to Malleswaram vegetable market with his ancestral mango-pickle cutter, a bucketful of water with lid, two hand towels (one for cleaning and the other for drying). Upon his return, Mami mixes the cut mangoes with the ingredients she had already prepared; treats it and transfers it to the ‘bharani’.  When fully marinated, we get a call for the tasting ceremony. Simply marvelous - unfailingly.

In our village house we had five different varieties of mango trees. Krishnan Kutty (KK), the man Friday to villagers, would climb the tall trees and pluck mangoes. Patti (grandma) would give him a sumptuous meal, four or five sample mangoes from each tree and an eight-anna coin. When Patti is not around, I would add to KK’s leaf a ladle or two of sambar, curry, or thick buttermilk and watch him eat with relish. 

The other person who got equally busy in the season was Paru Mami, wife of a elementary school teacher with five daughters and one son, barely subsisting. Most houses sought Mami’s services to prepare pickle. Every homemaker relied on Mami’s hand to add the final heap of salt or spice for two reasons. First, she moderated the quantities of spices depending on the blood pressure level, or ulcer or other problems plaguing members of the house. Second, the ladies believed that under any other hand the pickle would sour and develop fungus sooner than later. At the end they would give Mami a small bottle of the pickle, haldi-kum kum, a blouse piece and cash.

Decades later I visited one of Mami’s daughters in Kozikode while on a duty travel. She was doing lucrative business in pickles as a cottage industry. After offering me coffee and snacks, she expressed keenness to buy our vacant village- house and wanted me to put in a word with my uncles. As I prepared to take leave, she went inside and returned with a shopping bag full of assorted pickles. I had a tough time convincing her that it would be a problem for me to carry it either as a check-in, or cabin baggage. 

“The wheel of time,” I wondered. The family that had endured hardship in the village was keen to own a house to perpetuate memory, while we, who had nothing but pleasant times, were trying to sever all connections.

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