Worth Emulating

 “Lalitha Akka and Sundaram Athimbar, you must stay with us for a couple of days,” insisted Kannan and Chitra, as they bade farewell to us after attending the Sampoorna Narayaneeyam the other day.

Kannan is Mami’s only brother, and Chitra, his wife. They are a fine Finance team – one a Chartered Accountant (among other qualifications), and the other a Cost and Management Accountant. They divide all their work at home – one prepares the worksheet for income-tax return, and the other checks it. One tallies the total in a bill, and the other pays. Even in the case of an edible item that both equally relish, one divides and the other gets the first choice. 

This spirit extends beyond home. Kannan called it a day much before actual retirement time, after wearing MD, CFO, COO and other hats in international firms of repute. The driving force? His constant desire to pursue greater purpose and happiness. As for Chitra, she gave up her lucrative job just for upbringing her two boys, both of whom are doing well in life in the States.

Kannan now runs a Trust which focuses on upscaling the skills of the not-so-well-to-do boys and girls of merit pursuing their engineering degrees in colleges of Tier three cities like Mandya, Maddur…These colleges seldom attract campus interviews. Kannan’s Trust adopted a two-pronged ‘attack’. First to upscale the skills of these bright ones to be picked up; second, to negotiate with firms of repute to either extend campus interviews to these colleges, or to contact his Trust to recommend to them suitable candidates. Thanks to this, as many as 100 boys and girls have found jobs, with attractive salaries, more than trebling their family incomes in many cases. An equal number has managed to get jobs on their own using the upscaled skills.

Kannan and his Co-Trustee funded the first three years of the Trust’s operations. However, enthused by the impact of the initiative, a few companies have now come forward with CSR (Corporate Social Responsibility) contributions. The Trust  now runs from an office in Rajajinagar with staff and the necessary paraphernalia. In addition, some like-minded persons and institutions also are collaborating with him with technical assistance. In a nutshell, these genuine efforts from all around keep Kannan busy – and, to say the least, happy at the end of the day having given something back to the society.

As for Chitra, after seeing off both their children for Master’s in USA, she drove straight to the Spastics Society of Karnataka and registered herself for a post-graduate diploma course. She came out in flying colours. These past few years she works there as a  psycho-education consultant. She listens first to the parents and then conducts an educational assessment of the affected child’s problems and suggests possible remedies. Their recommendations for suitable accommodation are accepted by all the education boards like IB, CBSE and ICSE. For example, should she recommend that the child’s thinking and writing capacity are not properly aligned and hence he/she should be given ten minutes extra time or be provided with the services of a scribe in the examination hall, these Boards would consider it seriously. 

This is what we were able to decipher from the two days we spent with them, aside from visits to Chula Chauki da Dhabba, Orion mall, snacks stalls... As we got ready to return to SFV, we observed Kannan carrying two or three earlier model Apple laptops and chargers to the car. “Kannan, but you need only one laptop?” “Yes, Athimbar, these are for office staff.”

“Saravanan,” Kannan requested his driver as he got down near his office, “please drop them at Sobha Forestview Apartments – the place we went for puja the other day.”

A few minutes of silence in the car. We then looked at each other. “I think we too should also do something similar,” my wife said with a look that suggested that my actions in life left much to be desired. “By all means,” I reassured her. “However, for now, we shall add it to our “To-Do, Later” list and tick off our “To Do, Now” list:  Before Going to Coimbatore list; prepare and probate Will; Aquaguard – buy new or renew contract, update KYCs of banks or…

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

Football Final, and old Recollections

‘Football’ is perhaps the word that was most in circulation ever since the FIFA World Cup started – be it in the lift, park, shop, or even after our Vedic chant. Unfortunately, like the ‘red-eye flight’, as they are called for flying late nights, watching football too became a red-eye activity because mostly it started at 12.30 am. Thus, we watched only the match between Brazil and Japan which started at 10.30. But we felt a void every time we read the hype in next morning’s newspaper. Oh my God, we missed it. So, we decided, come what may, we will watch the final. 

First the strategy to stay awake till 12.30. We completed the movie that we had seen half. It was 10.30. We watched India chase England’s formidable score of 387 in the 3rd and decisive ODI match. The going was good till Rohit Sharma was at the crease. He got out; our hopes shattered and thought we would as well hit the bed, because it was just 11.10 pm – and 12.30 was way off. 

I woke up at midnight; it was 1.33 am. I thought I would walk stealthily to the living room and watch the football final, keeping the volume low. But alas, hardly had I readied myself when the lady of the house got up too and asked the time. Suddenly she jumped out of the bed and asked, “Shall we then watch the rest of the World Cup final?”  We watched the second half. The score then was 0 – 0.

The match was one-sided with Spain dominating. Earlier, newspapers had rated the winning chances of Argentina at 70%. Messi was waiting in vain in Spain’s court hoping that his teammates would pass the ball, for him to shoot it to the opponent’s goal post in a jiffy.  Not that day. The ball was all the time in Argentina’s court. Messi was looking aghast. One felt he was making a guest appearance. Argentina’s goal-keeper did an outstanding job. He saved many and missed only one goal. The score could otherwise have been 3 or 4 goals. As for Spain, their indomitable spirit, outstanding passing of the ball - all deserved praise. 

Watching football and cricket took me to my own village days. We teens of the village would walk up to Ramu Anna’s house at the fag-end of the village. He would fill air in the football. He had a cycle pump. We would play in the Ammu fields, a patch that had been left uncultivated in the paddy field. At the end of the game, fully thirsty we would rush to our tiller’s thatched cottage and drink water from the pitcher that was in his front yard. We dared not tell this to our parents. Sometimes in a moment of weakness I would whisper it into my mother’s ears. On way back home whosoever had an Anna or two in his pocket would volunteer to buy peanuts and share with all.

As for cricket, for bat we had one made out of the ‘stem’ that holds the leaves in the coconut tree. Balan would bring what was once a tennis ball. We had a set of what would pass for ‘wickets’ from branches cut from trees. Regardless, our team was fairly good – at least a shade better than our neighbouring village Puthur team. Inhabited by fairly well-to-do families, their team had a good cricket kit. We would invite them in what broken English we were capable of then. “We wish to play a cricket match with you, with your ball, with your bat, and in your ground. Ball go, no ball.” The last sentence meant that in case the ball was lost in the adjacent paddy fields while hitting hard, we will not replace it. And they would readily agree. If my memory serves me right, in about eight games we played, we won roughly five.

I did umpire-duty as well couple of times. Truth be told, I favoured my team in the decisions once or twice. Later when we boys met at the village pond for bathing, some from the opposing team would hail me, ‘hello impartial umpire”.

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

Did Guruvayoorappan make a fleeting appearance in MPH2?

They say the proof of the pudding is in the eating. Given this to the Sampoorna Narayaneeyam chant yesterday in Club House, there can be no better truth. 

Lalitha Mami, or Guru, (I deliberately avoid the expression ‘lady of the house’ this time because that was far from the role she was at, then) had hosted jointly with one of her students Usha, the chanting of Sampoorna Narayaneeyam yesterday in Club House, lasting seven hours, with two breaks - 15 and 10 minutes.    

About thirty ladies and our solitary but solid male Sashidhar chanted in unison - achieving near-synchronization - reverberating MPH2 and bringing forth exalted moments to both chanters and onlookers. One wondered if Lord Guruvayoorappan descended to MPH2 for a fleeting moment to bless the proceedings. Yes, that is what you tend to surmise when you spot someone immaculately dressed, known to none around, arrives, makes a brief appearance and departs. That said, give me a week and I shall confirm if he is one of the mere mortals of SFV like us if I happen to cross shoulders with him. Till then it is Lord Guruvayoorappan.

For the uninitiated, Narayaneeyam is the condensed version of Vedavyasa’s Srimad Bhagavatam which runs into 18 000 verses in 335 chapters. Melpathur Narayana Bhattathiri (1560 AD), the author of Narayaneeyam, who suffered from paralysis and arthritis severely crippling him, sat on the side of Guruvayoorappan temple (the place is marked on the left of entrance) and prayed to the Lord in these lines in probably 41 days, got both darshan of the Lord and cure from his ailment. His composition runs into 100 chapters in 1036 verses. On her limited part, Lalitha Mami helped 60-odd members, mostly of SFV, to learn chant them. 

In order not to be left out and be part of the proceedings, each member volunteered to bring befitting prasadams for such chapters as Narasimha avataram, Rama avataram, Krishna avataram, etc. It was very nice to watch/visualize miniature versions of these milestones.

Prasadams that members brought included mysore pak, coconut burfi, maa laadu, nei appam, jaggery-avil (for Kuchela charitam), panakam (concentrated jaggery water), dry fruits, butter and milk (for Krishna avataram), pal payasam - not to speak of bananas from left, right and centre.

Kaleeswaran, of Ebony, performed what function our Naveen Kashyap does for pan-SFV functions - pujari. Viswanathan replaced him when Kaleeswaran went to do his daily puja at home. Muralidharan, of Cedar, helped with odd jobs assigned from time to time. 

Among the co-hosts, Viswanathan and Usha jointly did all the legwork. Mami attended to the nitty gritty to ensure that we miss nothing to the extent possible. while I did my role – look busy, do nothing.

Shekar Natesan, yes, my co-brother, is very helpful – if he and when he wishes so, that is. Otherwise, he gives directions – do this, do that. But this time seeing me move around with a walking stick, he took charge of most of the dismantling work – the one harder than assembling.

Normally the Hall is thrown open for use only at 8 am. But since the function had to start at 6.30 am the MC member in charge made sure it was open. And chairs and tables were in place on time. MC deserves compliments. Rest assured, I am not on any Vote of Thanks spree.

Luckily the ready-made prasadam-lunch that we had ordered on the caterer, such as sambar rice, curd rice, Sakkara Pongal, potato curry, raita, vadam, curd rice, pickles, etc., turned out well, and were in plenty. Normally there are shortcomings on occasions – less salt in one dish, too spicy, or quantity was found wanting, etc.

With everything going so well for both Usha and Mami, their sole grouse was that they had to confine the invitation to students – no more, no less. But then there is always a next time.

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

Birthday Bash - Just-80 invites Seasoned-80s

There is a rumour that the seniors are emerging as the single largest population-group in SFV. Couldn’t agree more. 

And, among the seniors roaming around, if you happen to notice someone doing his rounds somewhat quietly, take my word, it is Dr Neelkant Panigrahi, of Maple 3. His children had organized in Club House a birthday bash to celebrate his 80th birthday. 

Every member of the family had invited his/her circle of friends. Dr Panigrahi, on his part, made sure none of his morning and evening walk friends, mostly in their 80s, were left out. 

I cannot claim to have known Dr Panigrahi for long, but what little association I have had, has been meaningful and qualitative. A very nice, sober, and unassuming person. 

Appearances are deceptive, they say. Seeing his innocent face one could seldom make out that he is an Obstetrician and Gynocologist and has done over 10 000 cesareans, let alone countless deliveries in Orissa. 

Post retirement he ran for years a full-fledged nursing home at Bolangir until he decided to lay down his forceps, clamps and scissors, in favour of chef’s knife, ladle, or vegetable peeler to help the lady of the house in the kitchen. But unfortunately, it did not last long. Reason? A la his operation-theatre style, he began stretching his hand and demanding his wife for: mustard, kari patta, lemon squeezer, grater, colander... The lady took it in the stride initially until one day she could take it no longer, and told him, “Stop treating me like a nurse? Either you do things yourself or allow me to do. This is nothing new for me; I have been doing it for decades.”  

He changed lane and began doing morning and evening walks befriending people of his age. Soon he became the centre of attraction among them, each hanging on his lips to listen to more of his experiences. Just one example. On one occasion he was watching a village drama where the bride and the groom were all set for the vara mala. Suddenly from nowhere the villain surfaces and shoots the bridegroom. The audience saw real fire-fly coming out of the pistol. It seems some home-made card-board item was inserted in place of pellets. But it did manage to fly-past and the groom started bleeding on his neck. Dr Panigrahi watching from a backseat rushed to the stage and barely managed to dig out the deep-seated card-board remnants from neck injury. Everybody applauded him.

A few days later the Chief Medical Officer arrived on the scene to scold him for having exceeded his terms of reference. How could the newly posted doctor  embark on such a venture. Later when the two were alone, the CMO took him aside and patted him on the back, “Good job, young man. You will make a good surgeon.” What could have brought an end to one’s hopes of entering the medical profession turned into a compliment. 

Now back to business - the Birthday Bash - the Club House hall was professionally decorated. A prominent display included, “You are not just 80; You are 80 years of stories, strength, and unconditional love; You are 8 decades of wisdom, wit and wonderful experience…” Just to break the monotony of arrive, hi, how are you… and head straight for the lunch queue, they had engaged a professional entertainer to keep the audience in good humour with a host of light but interesting activities all of which kept the audience fully entertained. 

Time for lunch. One saw everyone enjoy the food, the ambience and not to speak of the dessert. As I got up to leave, his younger son, who stays in Maple 3, came up to me to thank me for making it. “Your parents have only reasons to feel proud of you, young man. You had made such excellent arrangements.” “No uncle, we wanted to do it in Taj. But considering that Papa’s friends are the foremost and they might be dissuaded from making it that far, we decided to have it here.” “No less grand nonetheless,” I reassured him.

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

 

Date with Senior-most of the family

Recapitulating the past has been my favourite pastime. So much so, sometimes the lady of the house would shout from the kitchen, “I say I hear you speaking to yourself. Your good old days, again?”

Against this backdrop when I got an opportunity to visit my mother’s youngest brother, (Mamaji as I call him - and ‘Ramachandran Anna’, my wife), the senior-most in our maternal family at 90, it was something that I really looked forward to. He is hale and hearty, does seven rounds of walk in his park morning and evening as he recites Vishnu Sahasranamam once Lalitha Sahasranamam later. Rudram, Chamakam, Suktams and Upanishads wait for their turn back home. 

For me, he is my friend, philosopher and guide, and mentor, though we were born just four years apart. He taught me how to swim, including do somersault jump into the village tank from the higher platform built.  He helped me learn how to ride a bicycle, including how to jump-sit on to the seat instead of balancing with the pedal. That is a different thing that once while attempting it in the presence of village boys and girls, my dhoti fell apart.

Mamaji is very good at pencil drawing and tried to teach me the art but gave it up. Futile.  Gifted with a good handwriting which drew admiration from both school and college teachers, he tried to extend this benefit too to me but stopped short of making sure my handwriting did not carry traces of doctor’s prescription - the best he could do. 

He and Angichi, his immediate elder sister - and the last two children of our grandparents - were very protective of me against the villagers in total disregard to who was right and who was wrong – me invariably. For them I was the youngest nephew living under the same roof and I had to be protected.

Mamaji was also the lead singer of the village Bhajan group. He played Ganjira simultaneously. When his hands got tired, or when he wanted to render a number rather at length, he would hand down the Ganjira to me with explicit instructions just to synchronize the beat and not attempt any nuances. I was happy; I was the owner of the instrument at that moment. And, when the attendance thinned, he would give me the floor for a lead song the highlight of which was often tempo rather than melody.

We also recalled instances when there might not be any prasadam-sponsor for the Ekadasi bhajan. On such occasions, our co-resident who ran a petty shop in bazar would agree to bring six bananas before closing shop – on condition that he would be the lead singer at least for six songs. The sad part was that his songs and taal were poles apart. We would put up with it. We wanted an uninterrupted Ekadasi bhajan. On such occasions the tacit agreement among the core group was that we would continue with the bhajan till the number of attendees reduced to six so that we did not have to cut the bananas for distribution. Each one would get one full. 

Veerumani mama (name changed), who normally hit the bed at 8.30 pm attended the session once. When it was way past 9.30 he slipped out. The number became just six. We sang Mangalam, did deeparadhanai on fifth gear, and were relishing the banana. He suddenly resurfaced and saw us mouthful. He had gone out to pee, and we mistook that he had gone home. He got very angry and swore to tell our parents of our misdeeds in the name of bhajan.

Back here, it was only 3.30 in the afternoon, the sky had already become cloudy alerting us that it might rain any time. Priya, his daughter, hurried to the kitchen and came out with snacks and aromatic coffee. We gulped and hurried to the taxi before it started drizzling. 

“I think hereafter we should spend time with them more often,” I told my wife as we got into the taxi. “Yes, like we tell when we leave Howrah or New Delhi station and forget all about it when we cross Burdwan or Nizamuddin,” retorted my wife, always on the prowl. 

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

  

An Evening Well Spent

 Last evening we decided to return the visit of Vaidya and Shanti of Alder. They were the first to call on us after our first two-month trial stay in a retirement home in Coimbatore.

It had rained earlier, and the sky was still overcast. Regardless we made it. Vaidya prevailed he would walk up to Maple to accompany us to his home. I insisted that was not necessary as I do my morning and evening walks all by myself, aided by my walking stick. Fell into his deaf ears.

Shanti greeted us with her infectious smile - and so did a gentleman already there. Yes, he was Dr Dwaraknath, husband of Vasudha Sharma. “I have a nodding acquaintance with Vasudha ji, but did not have the pleasure of knowing you, sir,” I said as I shook hands with him. “Not surprised. I am a Cardiac surgeon stationed in Nellore, and visit here once a month,” he introduced himself. Soon Vasudha ji entered from her home next door. In the conversation it transpired that she was a dental surgeon, now enjoying being a homemaker. The chat got cut as Vasudha ji reminded her husband that she had come to remind him of their commitment to visit someone.

No sooner did the couple leave than enters another – in a one-at-a-time style. It was my friend, and Vaidya’s another neighbour, Venkatachalam mama holding a bag with contents. These days it is given that anyone coming with such a bag, is sure to be bringing mangoes plucked from his farm to share with friends. No, Venkatachalam mama was here with holy books for their weekly Rudram, Chamakam chant. I did not know this, until ten minutes later Vaidya got a call from Ramasubramaniam of Oak that he won’t be able to attend. 

“Oh my God, I didn’t realize I am stalling a Rudram-Chamakam chant session. Please go ahead,” I said as I tried to get up. In a bid to prevent me Vaidya reassured me that it had never been a solitary chant session. It was always a chant, chat and coffee session combined, often the last two overtaking the first in length.

The ensuing conversation covered Tamil Nadu under Vijay, Karnataka under DKS and Amit Shah, the Chanakya of central politics, systematically paving the way for a two-thirds majority in Parliament to enact certain bills that the party had promised the electorate.

Soon Shanti emerged from the kitchen with steaming coffee and snacks. That helped the discussion scale greater heights. Realizing that it was getting darker and the sky was still cloudy, I tried to get up to leave, but in vain. Both Vaidya and Shanti persisted we stay for a little while – more so since it was my first casual visit to their home. We continued the conversation – this time Venkatachalam mama taking the floor with the various serials they watch starting from 7 pm stretching up to 9 pm. “We just completed watching Harlan Coben’s ‘I will Find you’. spread in eight episodes – captured in roller coaster speed, the kind of ‘one more episode before going to bed’ type. I had watched his earlier one also – Fool Me Once,” I gave my input. Vaidya clarified he was a sports enthusiast – cricket and football, and was waiting for the Knockout in World Cup football – telecast way past midnight regardless.

I complimented Shanti for decorating the living room with exquisite Tanjore paintings, all done by herself. “Of course, I am sure the Mona Lisa and the Ravi Varma paintings over there, are copies of original, not painted by you” I asked. “No way, I painted them,” she corrected me.  I asked her if she could let me see her puja room of which I had heard a lot. She guided us and explained the significance of each item in detail. 

“An evening well spent,” we thanked the Vaidyas as we took leave, not before Vaidya insisted, once again, on accompanying us back home. So nice of them.  

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

50th Wedding Anniversary, Grandson’s Poonal – Musical Extravaganza in the bargain

“Sundara Mama and Lalitha Mami…” we heard the vibrant voice as we answered the call in the usual speaker-mode. “This is Lekshmi… and Natarajan.” 

“From Geneva?” I guessed. “No, not this time. We are in Thrissur. Mahesh wants to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary coinciding with his son’s poonal,” Lekshmi corrected. 

“It will be a privilege,” she continued, “if you two could attend.”  Our plea of my mobility restrictions and a four-day stay in Thrissur fell into deaf ears. “We thought it would be a sort of Ram-Bharat Milap, but after 20 years,” argued Lekshmi. No doubt we had the best of time together during our tenure in Switzerland.

Mahesh, their only son, is a man of many parts – a loving husband, an affectionate father, a caring son and a person with an amiable disposition. To me, however, he strikes as Shravan Kumar in Ramayana – so devoted to his parents without simultaneously failing in his other obligations.  It was he who was behind organizing the 50th marriage anniversary of his parents. The mornings were devoted to spiritual activities - 108 learned pundits invoking the blessings of God on one morning, and 108 ladies reciting Lalitha Sahasranamam the next morning, etc. the evenings witnessed a gala musical extravaganza. 

Yes, musical extravaganza of the first order. On day one it was Manjapra Mohan enthralling the audience with Ayyappa songs. Three hours is a tall order, but he kept listeners’ attention unhindered. No wonder he is hailed Namasankeertanam Chakravarthy.  I enjoyed the best his number ‘Entha Malai Sevithalum, Thangamalai Vaibhogam, Engum naan Kandathillaye, Ayyappa…’ 

Day two was marked by Nadaswaram recital by a Haridwaramangalam Padma Shri Dr Palanivel and his team. Given the high decibel that go with Nadaswaram-Tavil performance, it may not be everyone’s cup of tea, more so for a longer duration. But not so in this instance. The team kept the audience captive. 

The famous violinist Padma Shri Mysore Manjunath and his team of percussionists, each one with a long list of his own accomplishments  took charge of day three. Thus, together they made the audience listen to them with rapt attention. Aside his professional acumen, Manjunath had the gift of the gab which kept the audience in good humour. Thus, as they say in North, it was sone pe suhaga.

The stay also helped me update myself with Geneva friends. After retirement Lekshmi and Natarajan keep themselves busy with charitable work – both with material supply and serving ready meals. Natarajan continues to teach Sanskrit. Murali and Prema enjoy life to the brim. During their couple of visits to India annually they financially help two or three girls from poor families get married. Siva and Bhuvana, the quiet-couple, returned to their base in Chennai a few years ago. They are happily settled in Mylapore. 

Mahesh is a mridangam artist in his own right. Kritika, his wife, an engineer by qualification, is a Bharata Natyam artist. Their son Shreyas did a solo on mridangam when his elder sister played violin during Dr Manjunath’s concert. It was very well received. Well rooted, in other words. 

As though all this is not enough, one early morning, at the persistence of the lady of the house we made an impromptu visit to Guruvayoor (45 minutes drive) disregarding the fact that it was a second Saturday with unmanageable crowd. Even the Rs 1000 ticket had a serpentine queen. Luckily, we had darshan quickly. Yes, for the first time my walking stick performed a little more duty than it was supposed to. A police officer on duty noticed it; he moved us away from the queue and took us up to the place where all queues converge to have Lord Guruvayoorappan’s darshan - which we had in full measure.  I told you everything is preordained. Man proposes, God disposes.

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

To Relocate or not to. That is the Question

Any major move calls for weighing its pros and cons; more so when it is contemplated way past one’s prime.  

Two Paripalana Retirement Home families that I know of returned to Bangalore for different reasons. One, when he was hospitalized, his son in Bangalore told him that it would be difficult for him to make it to Coimbatore often and suggested his parents to move back to base.

The other responded in Shakespearean style, “Not that I like Coimbatore less, but that I love Bangalore more.” 

Against this backdrop we have equal number of families who moved permanently to Paripalana. One argued, “You know we were right in front of Forum mall, and just ten steps away from Konanakunte Metro station in Bangalore. Regardless we took the plunge for the Retirement home after a few last-minute back and forth stays in both the places.”

The other family had a sprawling house in a calm and serene locality where pollution-free air is the chief attraction. Still they decided to move here.

Comparisons are invidious. One can’t help doing it at times. In our case a permanent shift from Bangalore will mean moving from a 900-apartment complex, built in eight towers of 20 to 26 storeys where community living takes the cake. Name any festival, and it is celebrated – Ekatva, Rajyotsava (birth of Karnataka), all religious and regional festivals such as Onam, Christmas, Holi and what have you.

Next to our gated community is Madheswara temple on a hillock where mass catering for every festival is the name of the game. Turahalli forest, declared thus by an act of legislation, borders ours. Precisely why our complex is named Sobha Forest View. Chirping of birds and dancing of peacocks in merriment greet us every morning. 

“Small is beautiful,” on the contrary, describes aptly, as it is meant to, the life in Paripalana 3. Lord Guruvayurappan presides over the complex enjoying the best of breeze from the adjacent coconut grove, leaving the rest for the residents. In the last ten days that we are here we have been a party to Rama Navami, Panguni Uttiram celebrations, Lalitha Sahasranamam, Vishnu Sahasranaman, Pradosham Rudram chants, and practice sessions of Bhajan, Narayaneeyam, Bhagavatam…, and a day trip in two Tempo Travels to a Kerala temple.

You need to cover just four floors in the lift to reach to the ground, and not descend to earth from the 19th floor to buy vegetables. Sorry, no need for vegetables here. You just walk to the Dining Hall three times a day and enjoy your breakfast, lunch and dinner – all announced a week in advance. That allows one to take a call on whether to skip a particular menu and order from a private lady caterer nearby. 

Yes, the list is endless – on both sides. It is a tie, to sum up. But the scale at times tilts slightly towards the Retirement Home. The reason? Charity begins at home. I have enjoyed retirement for more than two decades, but the lady of the house never had a moment of respite. My retirement has only added to her woes, with my occasional hints: ‘how about a little second coffee - or even buttermilk?’ Or, “it’s raining outside, how about frying some pakodas to go with it?”  Otherwise during my working days, once off to work at 7.30 am, she had all the time for herself till 5.30 pm. 

“Be that so, but do you necessarily have to relocate just to give her respite,” confront me those who want us to stay back in Bangalore. “You can engage a cook, just order vegetables online, and enjoy the dishes of your choice,” they argue. 

As confused as ever.

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

Marriages are Made in …Sri Sri Ashram Too

In Palakkad, my native place, one’s profession gets appended to his name:  Enna Kadai (Oil Merchant) Chuppamani, Pohela kadai (Tobacco merchant) Mani or Marundu Kadai (Medicine shop) Chellappa.

By this token my father should perhaps have been posthumously hailed “Pan-India love-marriage family” Samikutty. Yes, we have a boy or girl in marriage from Uttar Pradesh, Maharashtra, Karnataka, or even the United States of America. And those to join the bandwagon include brides or grooms from…. I might as well wait till the status upgrades itself from ‘going steady to ‘taken the plunge’. There can always be a slip between the cup and the lip.

In our family the trend of selecting a partner by oneself was begun - you guessed it right – by me.  I found my life partner (from within the extended family) on my way to Dhaka on an assignment when the then East Pakistan liberated itself to emerge as Bangladesh.

Years later my elder brother’s son picked up the thread; he selected a girl from UP to lead a blissful life. My sister’s son followed suit to marry a girl from Maharashtra. His sister selected a boy from Karnataka. And three or four from the next generation are all set to formally announce their decisions – again belonging various States in India.

Today we had the pleasure of attending in Sri Sri Ashram the Tamil-Maharastrian couple’s son tying the knot to an American girl; the charming couple, both doctors from a top-notch US University. 

You get to interact with various people on such occasions. I got to chat with the guy who was arranging transport for the guests from one venue to the other. It was a vast area – one place for breakfast, another for lunch, yet another for dinner.  It transpired that as a baby he had acted in a few Hindi films. One such was in BR Chopra’s Baagban. Some of you might recollect the scene where the couple Amitabh Bachhan and Hema Malini by mistake break Amitab’s glasses. When they ask his son whom they had brought up so fondly, he declines for lack of funds. Next day his son loses or spoils his shoes, and the parents lose no time to buy a new pair…

“How come you didn’t continue”? That was not my cup of tea. My parents were eager. He is well settled in the hospitality industry in Vancouver.

One takeaway from these functions these days is that nearly 65% of the guests will be seniors with walking sticks, walkers… It would not be surprising if an outsider mistakes it for someone’s 60th or 80th birthday ceremony.

Most of the guests are likely to cherish, more than the attendance at the marriage, their good luck to meet Guruji, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji on not just one, but two occasions when he came to bless the couple. Yes, everything is preordained.

As we returned home happy at the stay in the Ashram for nearly three days, there was another co-resident couple alighting from a cab. They rushed to us: “Mama we are happy to announce that my son is marrying a Spanish girl. Our long-time hunt for a suitable girl is over.” They were thrilled.

It’s a small world. And small is beautiful. 

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

Hail BBMP – Nay, our MC – Nay, Both

“Doorstep delivery from a Government body?”  ‘No way’, you might respond. Not any longer if we go by what is now happening in SFV. A team of BBMP officials were busy helping SFVians getting E-khatha or carrying out corrections to some of the earlier ones.  They did an extra day as well. Thank you BBMP and your staff.

No less gratitude is due to the members of the MC who did an outstanding job in organizing this. Some of them, and volunteers as well whom I spotted when I was in were Sajan, Chidambaram, Vaidya, Suma ji, Kiran… 

I had no plans to visit Club House for this. I was heading for my Vitamin D walk. It suddenly struck me that when I got my E-Khatha thanks to the then MC’s effort, I had it scrutinized word for word by my friend. He had pointed a small error in the Kannada version. He suggested it was not worth correcting it as the remedy could be worse than the disease. So I left it at that. 

“Why leave a legacy of problems? Who not try to sort it out? Take care of the penny, and pounds will take care of themselves…” wisdom dawned on me. I took just the E-Khata and went to Club House. “New E-Khatha or just correction?” asked our ever-smiling Suma whose indefatigable voluntary job to SFV is matchless. “Correction,” madam. She handed me a token. It called for some wait. But the volunteers guided me to the counter, spoke to some waiting guys whose turn it was before me. They all agreed, and I would be the next. What a wonderful camaraderie, many of whom I was not even acquainted with. Who says we are far from a well-knit family?

As I waited, I showed it to Mr Ramamurthy of Oak to detect that small mistake. He read through the document back and forth and said that the only mistake he could detect was that it reflected my carpet area as 0, and its figure had crept into the next column. “Maybe you would like to correct it, having come.” 

The BBMP official confirmed the mistake and asked me to show Sale Deed to verify. I had not carried it. The lady of the house rushed in with it, and with the MC volunteers vying with one another to help me dig out the sale deed, the relevant page, etc. it was all done in a jiffy. I thanked profusely BBMP officials and MC volunteers around. 

As I stepped into the lift with the lady of the house trying to stuffl in all loose papers into the bag to be sorted out back home, I hummed the old Tamil song, Kaatu vanga ponen, Kavitai vangi vanthen - I went in for something and came out with something else.

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

Singing the Walk

SFV plays a mute witness to a host of activities. Hopefully, she enjoys some as puts up with others. 

Come morning, and she watches the disorderly haste or confusion of children not to miss their school bus. Some can be seen engaged in last minute preparations for possible questions, while in the lift. The parents are fully supportive. They hold their heavy-duty backpacks, run in advance to the lift that is working, hold the lift that is otherwise loaded with morning-walk crowd, and request them to wait for a second (read: a few minutes) as their child rushes in holding half bread in hand and struggling to gobble the other half. 

Then you have rehabilitative group – those with walking stick (the writer included) or walker doing their prescribed number of steps or rounds; others in wheel-chair accompanied by their caretakers. For the caretakers this is their most awaited morning meet. 

A little later assembles the ‘babies day out’ group with young attendant-ladies gently navigating the prams to a secluded place where they could give the babies juices, or cajole them to eat what they have packed for them from home. 

From 11.30 to 12.30 it is time for the Vitamin-D club (exposing to sun rays) – ladies on one side and gents on another. That particular day I counted ten ladies – some squeezing themselves in the two iron benches that they re-arranged to suit them, others content sitting on the cement park-boundary. Their occasional outburst of laughter indicated that they were having a blast.

The menfolk – around seven of them – busied themselves discussing, inter alia, diabetes, blood pressure, their present acceptable levels, the best medicine for these (the ones they were taking, that is); the happenings around; slowly meandering into politics – the suggestion of diverting of excess Ganges water into other states, and the assertion of an ex Chief Minister, now on bail, Ganga maiyaa ka ek boond pani bhi hum Bihar se bahar jane nahi denge… That trigers one member to hum, Tohre taal mile nadi ki jal mein, nadi miley sagar mein, sagar miley konisi jal mein, koi jaane na…  At this point Sivan (all names changed) makes a grand entry into the group raising his hands high and singing Hemant Kumar’s, Muj ko tum jo mile yeh jaha mil gaye, turning the meet into a singing session. Not to be outdone, Grover ji welcomes him, “Aap jaisa koi zindagi mein aaye…I joined the melee with the number, Aaja sanam madhur chandni mein hum tum mile…

A few more impromptu initial lines and the group choose to take a walk, continuing the singing session (unmindful of other walkers watching them) – a la a delayed start of an early morning Margazhi masa Bhajan in villages in South. 

“That is a nice way to pass the time,” commented one, as he walked past. The lady who participated in Antakshari in our one-day trip a couple of years ago, asked us, “Can the ladies also join?” We hesitated, because she beat us hollow that time. I saw yet another passer-by whisper something into the ears of his friend. Could it be, “if only they sang it in a moving train, they might have collected five or ten rupees.” 

The session went on for a round or two, and it was time to depart. Achha to hum chalte hain, hummed one. Phir kab milo ge, asked the other. Jab tum kaho ge, answered the first.

Yet another said, “Chalte, chalte, yaad rakhna, kabhi alvida na kahna. The third said, Oh jaane wale ho sake to lot ke aana, as each one of us branched off to our respective towers. 

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

SFVian of the Year

An aura of vacation fills the air what with Christmas and New Year round the corner. Person of the Year in various walks of life is what the newspapers and TV channels are replete with. That leads one to think why we in SFV should not introspect, be it in a lighter vein, and identify some who might qualify for being the SFVian of the year – for his/her contribution to the community. With my limited knowledge of the happenings in SFV, I would pick the following individuals randomly with the proviso that residents’ voice will rule the roost.   

Capt. Suresh Padmanabhan of Oak: Perhaps his name is making the maximum rounds these days – for a good reason. Chairing the last two or three AGMs or EGMs he averted what many feared might have turned into a World War 3. Knowledgeable, and bestowed with tremendous wisdom, he ‘intercepted’ at right moments to prevent calamities. No wonder he was in Indian Air Force. On occasions if one wondered whether he exceeded his terms of reference, one has to concede that aside from donning Chairman’s robe, he is a resident as well and is fully entitled to his own opinions.    

Taruvai Subramaniam, the Judge Mama of Maple. Like a witness swears by the Holy Book to speak nothing but the Truth, Subramaniam ji speaks only three things - fact, Fact and FACT. If any point is to be explained, say, in 232 words, he utters just that many words, not a word more, not a word less. Precise and pointed. Just one example, while addressing SFVians the other day on the nuances of writing a Will, he clarified that a nominee in a bank account (‘Movable’ property) becomes the owner upon the demise of the account holder, whereas in an immovable property, his status is reduced to just a custodian.

Shri Vaidya of Alder. If there is one individual in SFV who moves around attracting the minimum of attention, I would pick Shri Vaidya. Calm and composed, the best description of Vaidya is, to borrow the Tamil expression, ‘Udhavum Karangal’ the hands that reach out to help. Many a time I have watched him walk up from Alder to Oak to be with Chandrashekar, our tall, handsome, erstwhile SFV President, to give him a helping hand to walk when C suffered mobility restrictions. You can be sure to see Vaidya’s name in the core list of any religious, cultural, social or sports activities. A man for all seasons, in short.  

Dr Sudarshan Acharya of Maple. No number of words will be too much to describe Sudarshan Acharya, the most unassuming man around. Hold any religious function in SFV and ask him to erect a structure befitting the event, he will do it to perfection. Be it Kailash Parbat, Meru mountain, a replica of Tirupati, or a structure for the Rudra Abhisheka, he is sure to make it to perfection. So much so, in a lighter vein, if only he had enlisted his name for making Lord Rama’s statue for Ayodhya, the renowned sculptor from Mysore would have been on his guard. 

Feel free to declare NOTA (None of the Above) and propose fresh names, but do  justify. More aptly, you can choose from among the host of others relevant to the day – the cakemakers (and no less newsmakers): Jessica Rao, Anu Mathew, Anu of Cedar or the award-winning Kiran madam. Or, highlight Shanthy Vaidya, Panindra or Naveen Kashyap, the persons who take you on a wonderful spiritual journey. 

Or, you can go further and spot Mrs Vijaya who has been offering us, short of actual Dosa and Idly, ready-made batter; or, Mrs Nandini Balaji who gives breakfast, lunch and dinner where variety is the name of the game, not to speak of Neha and others who fulfil the needs of your tastebuds with different varieties of snacks from across India.  

My sports friends will not spare me if I fail to mention their annual contribution in bringing alive many sports activities where if the decibel of the enthusiasts is any yardstick, it is no less than a State-level event.  

The list is endless. Why not? We have 889 flats. In SFV sky is the limit for talent. Feel free to add what I might have omitted. 

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

Elders - All the Way

“Oh, that problem? It’s Age-related…Anything else…?”  Chances are, that is the response an elderly patient might get if he goes all the way to the physician with a complaint that he thought he might as well get examined. 

This response might be a statement of fact.  But the cryptic way it is delivered does not augur well for the patient in terms of value for money; more so after having made it to the Clinic in Uber and waited for long for one’s turn. To overcome the inevitable wait, you even try to browse through the half a dozen medical journals on the table to make something out of the contents but find yourself no wiser at the end.

You resort to the next option - count the average number of minutes the doctor spends with each patient and multiply by the number of patients ahead to arrive at the approximate time it will take for your turn. More often these calculations go haywire because sometimes the person accompanying a patient also is a patient thus taking double the time. You begin to wonder if this happens only in your case despite your selecting a mid-week like Wednesday for consultation.

These said, such minor setbacks don’t dampen us, the joie de vivre elders. We know how to take these in the stride and move on in life – with gusto. Don’t believe me? Satisfy yourself. 

One of my co-residents is all set to celebrate his milestone birthday soon performing homas chanting hymns to shower health, long life, and happiness. Rather than leaving everything to God to take care of him, he does his half to keep fit – yoga, gym, cycling for shopping, singing for pleasure and writing technical books. I had an opportunity to browse through one book and I wished I were able to write more than one para on that subject, let alone bring out a 293 or so page book under the banner of a renowned publisher. We salute you, Sir.

Then there is my friend, philosopher and guide – the 92-year old VNR, a epitome of discipline in all walks of life. It would be safe to say he knows the bye-laws governing Apartments in Bangalore way more than those who framed them. No doubt he was the go-to man in the previous apartment we lived together, and now in the Retirement home in Devanahalli. He too is celebrating his Kanakabhishekam the week after next with a host of renowned priests. As a pre-curser he and his 85-year old wife went to Goa on a week’s holiday. If one is keen on getting tips on fitness, one should go to him. I see no change in him these last 12 or 13 years except for sporting hearing aids.

Back to SFV, we have our learned judge – the ‘intellectual property’ judge to some and ‘judge mama’ to many.  He will enlighten us on how to write a Will, things to incorporate and things to avoid, so that instead of a valid Will we don’t end up leaving a legacy of problems for the beneficiaries. He will also share the steps involved in the execution of a Will. The talk will be followed by a Question-Answer session.  I myself plan to get some doubts clarified – whether I can bequeath padosi’s property as well so that both boys are happy. If not, I will authorize one son to divide my assets and liabilities and give the first choice to the other.

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

A Peep into my Physiotherapy Session

Treatment of any kind will have its attendant problems. In physiotherapy it is pain of varying degrees and resistance of the affected portion to comply with Physio’s instructions. ‘Raise your leg by 30 degrees in supine position and twist it, count ten.’ First it took me two sessions to guess how high or low is 30 degrees. ‘Rest on your shoulder, raise your leg and kick backwards forcefully – ten times, each leg’.  ‘In the same posture raise and rotate your leg clockwise and anticlockwise twenty times. Each item, mind you, under his eagle eyes – you can’t get away with a quick job of or reduce intensity.  Half a dozen exercises in standing position similarly. He would just count One, Two, Three – in the slowest motion.  At one point I felt like asking if ever as a child he attempted to count numbers faster. 

Just 30 years old, Dr Satish Kumar did his Masters in Physiotherapy. He missed getting into MBBS by a whisker. The next option was Dentistry. Not his cup of tea. So, he chose Physiotherapy.  Now he is proud he has knowledge of all parts of  human body and is able to bring the affected portion back to normal or near normal. His aim while attending to a patient is that he should be the last physio to treat him/her to recovery. The patient should not have to go to anyone else, that is. Worthy objective. 

Satish has been running his clinic for five years in the turning next to our SLV restaurant. He has four or five qualified staff to assist him.  An SFV resident, happy with Satish’s treatment, recommended him to me. Yes, other than getting cases through professional referrals, he gets most of his clients through word of mouth, he said, as he unleashed 12 or 15 residents whom he had treated and is treating in our complex.  I could place about 9 or 10 of them. He is not the one to rest on his laurels. He plans to do PhD starting from next year. All the best.

His wife is a paediatric Physiotherapist. But since a year or two she is enjoying the status of a full-time homemaker.

“This is okay Uncle, but how and when did you collect all this info?’ you might wonder. Well, during the 20-minute interferential treatment (medium electrical current treatment to reduce inflammation and increase blood circulation), he would sit on a chair and update his incoming messages in mobile as I put up with the tickling sensation that the electrical vibration creates.  

It turned out we both are extroverts. We could observe this 20-minute silence for not more than two days. Thus began a casual conversation on the third day: ‘so what breakfast did you have today?’ Or, ‘any urgent hospital visit you made yesterday following an operation?” And the like. His tie up with a few orthopaedic surgeons renders him make a visit or two to hospital for the first physiotherapy soon after surgery. The rest of the time he is in his clinic.

“Sir, now, with today’s treatment the course is over. You can and you will manage yourself hereafter. Everything is in your hands,” he reassured me as he stuffed his instruments into his backpack.

‘Thank you very much Satish. Any special instructions?’ I asked him as he approached the door. “Not exactly. Maybe you could ask Aunty to oversee as you do the exercises. 

‘My worst fear might come true, I said to myself. Like a school teacher to her student, chances are the lady of the house will assert, “No, not that way; do it this way, and repeat it ten times.” 

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

Old is Gold, but…

They say when a great rock is dislodged, the worms come to light. Vaguely, when someone’s mobility is restricted, the TV flashes some best movies – this time the old ones. Yes, with just a day left for my Physiotherapist to pronounce, “Now I set you free, sir; you are on your own - with or without walking stick”, here are some old movies that stood by me.

A time to Kill. (Netflix) Based on John Grisham’s novel by the same title, this is an old classic that keeps you engaged all through. With a star-studded cast – Sandra Bullock, Mathew McConaughey, Samuel Jackson, Kevin Spacy, Donald Sutherland….., the movie was worth a second watch with each one playing his role to a T.  In the prelude or somewhere I heard that originally Brad Pitt was picked to play the lead, but Mathew McConaughey bumped into the studio and requested the powers-be to give him the role, or something like that. Yes, someone’s loss is someone else’s gain. What Dev Anand and later Dharmendra declined to play the hero in Zanjeer, Amitabh Bacchhan grabbed, and the rest is history.

Scent of a Woman (Netflix). After seeing this movie, I was in two minds whether Al Pacino is at his best in this or in Godfather 2. Very absorbing movie. At this second viewing, I felt the pace was a little slow in the initial stages, but the final scene more than compensated for everything.

His Highness Abdullah (Malayalam), You Tube. I am wary of watching movies in You Tube for their print-quality. But sometimes luck favours the brave, and so it did when I took a chance. A very fulfilling movie – wholesome entertainment, plot, Carnatic music at its best, and, above all Mohanlal’s acting. No wonder there was a WhatsApp message floating around when he got the Dadasaheb Phlake award as to why he deserved it in full. One of the scenes the originator had picked up was Mohanlal’s lip movement, action and near-original rendering in the Carnatic music competition in this movie. “Old is gold” I felt after watching it. This is not to say some of the present day offerings, more so, TV series, are any less.

Delhi Crime, season 2. Featuring Shefali Shah, Huma Quereshi and others, this was inspired by true events, modified not to get into legal entanglements. Shefali would seem cut out for the role, as the late Ifthikar was for the police officer’s role in the old Hindi movies.

No One Saw Us Leave. This is a modified version of a true story where the husband does not want his wife, now in an open relationship with his sister’s husband, to have custody of his children. He runs from place to place, country to country with his children, but is chased everywhere. 

The Beast in Me. (Netflix). If the first two episodes that we watched so far are anything to go by, we are in for some edge-of-the-seat moments, each character trying to outwit the other. Thankfully, it is recommended by my friend Viswanathan, 3161. It has to be good.

Last but not the least, Jolly LLB, 3 featuring Akshay Kumar, Arshad Warsi, Saurabh Shukla, Huma Quereshi. An entertaining movie with a good storyline and message. Should do well commercially. 

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

SFV Navaratri-2025 Round Up

Buzz is the word for ladies - as for every Navaratri - moving merrily in and around the complex in various friends-circle, attired in the day’s dress code, and seemingly on top of the world. The fragrance of jasmine flower fills the corridor and lifts.

Flower sellers Venkatesh and Mahadevi’s son Ravi had a hectic time keeping up their promises to deliver not just flowers this time, but garlands, coconuts, betal-leaves and other related items for the festivity.  In our case, for the next morning's invitation he dropped at our doorstep as late at night as 11 with a WhatsApp message, “sorry for the delay but I kept my promise.” So nice of him.

While each gathering will have its own interesting stories and anecdotes to share, mine would be confined to those with which the lady of the house has been busy with. 

By intent or otherwise the invitations did not clash or overlap. Only on one occasion, the ladies had to recite Lalitha Sahasranamam back to back. Otherwise, if it was Lalitha Sahasranamam at one place, it was Aigiri Nandini at the other, or Devi Mahatmyam in the third house. 

“Uncle, how do you know so well? You might ask. Who do you think maintained Aunty’s diary?

Aside the reasonably good number of invitations each day for Thamboolam, there were a couple of chanting sessions that lasted 1-1-2 hours to 3 hours. In-house visits included for chanting Devi Mahatmyam (also known as Durga Saptashati) for nearly three hours in one house; 1-1/2 hours of condensed version of Narayaneeyam in another house; and Lalitha Sahasranamam and Aigiri Nandini, and exchange of Thambulam in several other houses. For the long sessions, the hosts took good care of the guests with hot badam milk or dry fruits in between, to help them re-align their vocal cords.

There was a breakthrough this year in that there was an invitation from outside. The family of Mrs Anupama Hosakere of the Mandala Cultural Centre (a sprawling 7-acre area located between Thalaghattapura and Silk Institute metro stations) arranges every Navaratri a breathtaking display of over 10 000 (yes, ten thousand) dolls from the British-India days, in different themes – Ramayana, Mahabharata, etc. 

Mrs Anupama is Padma Shri as well as a Sangeet Natak Academy award winner for puppetry. She had invited our Narayaneeyam group (courtesy Aruna and Prasad of 2094) to recite selected chapters from Narayaneeyam. 

A contingent of 20 to 30 or so ladies with the selected chapters duly page-marked, stuffed the heavy Narayaneeyam book in their bags. Equal to the occasion (pre-arranged by Aruna), a convoy of six or seven cars, with spouses of some at the wheels accommodated the designated ladies in their cars to follow Satya Prasad who led them from the front. It was a sight to watch the cars moving lined up near Gate 4 and moving in unison at equal distance – in the beginning, to be precise. Thereafter might was right. Every lady was able to keep up to her commitments both in attendance and quality of rendering. If the proof of pudding is in the eating, then the host’s invitation to the group to render every year hereafter, should stand testimony to group’s genuine efforts. (When the group began rendering Kesha Pasha Drudha Pinchikavithathi… - the Rasakreeda – Anupama requested them to pause for a while. Her younger daughter, an accomplished dancer, enacted the scene to the enjoyment of all).

This piece will be incomplete without a mention of  SFV’s own grand Durga Devi Puja celebrations in Club House on Saturday evening. It was a class apart. Suffice it to quote a lady in her message to the organizers, “it was just Pure Bliss to be there, chant and witness the beautiful pujas…feel so blessed.” Not just you, Ma’am all of us. Kudos organizers. 

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

Navaratri for Menfolk

Maybe I should not make a general statement. It may differ from person to person.  For me Navaratri is the period when I am at the receiving end of instructions day in and day out. Here’s just a day shared. 

‘I say,’ the lady of the house calls me in a raised voice from kitchen to be heard in the Master bedroom where I was reading newspaper. ‘I have placed an order for over a dozen items with Amazon; each is arriving at different times. So be sure to stay home. But don’t make that an excuse to skip your walk. Do it in the corridor. Got it?’  “Yes Ma’am - with right foot first or left?” 

‘When our domestic help comes,’ she resumes after a pause, “ask her to cut pumpkin; tell her it is for sambar – not in too small sizes as she did last time; then beans, for curry and a tomato or two for rasam. “One, or Two? be specific” I asserted, unwilling to accept unclear orders - and be blamed later. “Okay, just one if it is a big tomato, otherwise two.”  Not enlightened any better, but no point in rubbing it in. “If she has time,” she continues, “ask her to peel pomegranate.’ 

‘You can jot them down the items if you like. You have knack of missing some. The other day you forgot to tell her to peel sambar-onion, consequently we had to make-do with rasam the next morning,” she quipped not let go any opportunity unavailed.

“Ah, also make sure she dusts sofas, furniture, windows and doors. You know I have invited guests for haldi-kum kum for tomorrow evening.  You recall when we moved in, we enjoyed a reputation for keeping our house spic and span. We would rather live up to that, at least when we know in advance someone is visiting.”  

“I just remembered the coconut bulk-supplier will come to collect money. Tell him he has billed Rs 5 more per piece than what he quoted,” she said.  “On second thought,” wisdom dawned on her, “I wish you don’t take it up. Just pay his bill. After all, only last week we decided not to bargain with small-time operators.”

‘Ah, by the way,’ she hurried back as she was closing the door for her first visit, “I forgot to invite Ms A for haldi kum kum. Please do a copy-paste and send an invite to her.’ “Which A? There are two,’ I quipped. ‘The fairer one,’ she replied. “I have seen only one of them; so, I don’t know who is fair and who is fairer,” I insisted. “OK I will do it myself. No point in arguing with you.” she closed the door that had a tinge of bang.

“There are a few new OTT releases,” I just managed to reach her before she actually closed the door.  You will be away for three hours at a stretch, so shall I watch some?” I asked.  “Why on earth?” she quipped.  “We will watch them together, don’t you feel? You can now watch news and Youtube and get a clearer picture of GST, Vote Chori, Caste Census, the $ 100,000 fee for H1B visas,” she passed the verdict before closing the door. 

Half-way to closing the door, she opened it again. “The gas stove is on; I have kept cooker. When it whistles twice, just put it on sim for a while and then switch it off. ‘I say, did you hear me?’ She repeated. ‘Yes, Ma’am.’  ‘Then why didn’t you nod so that I know it has registered,’ she persisted. ‘Ok, hereafter I will give you in writing, Ma’am.’

Just before she closed the door in full finally, I interrupted. “How about going out on a vacation for next Navaratri? I asked. “You don’t mean it,” she quipped with a stare that conveyed – don’t ever dare suggest being away from SFV during Navaratri.

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

Bedside Manners (Intentions Unquestioned)

You might be a person with good habits – regular morning and evening walks, moderate eating habits, exercises to an extent, and the like.  Regardless, sometimes problems that grow within begin surfacing. I felt pain on my right knee two months ago. 

“Over 50% of the cartilage and menisci have worn out,” said the Orthopedician, looking at the X-ray report. I have heard ‘cartilage’ earlier, but not the other one. When communicating with patients, most doctors forget they are talking to commoners, not their peers.  

“Not to worry, many in your age group often lose 70%,” he reassures. How does that help me, I wonder. 

News spreads like wildfire – and faster in SFV. Well-wishers begin rushing in saying, long time no see. No issue, most welcome. But, not with Ratnadeep’s khakhi envelope of apples, oranges or pears. 

Some visitors have a knack of taking over the conversation even before you had completed two sentences explaining your problem. “Oh, this is nothing. My……..,” and embark on an trip narrating encounters of their friends and relatives. 

Yet another who has probably undergone the ritual, asks me to confine myself to just three workouts, and begins to demonstrate them. Alas, none of these finds a place in my physiotherapist’s list. “One red capsule in the morning and one white tablet at night, and I was fine in ten days,” he recapitulates, with no clue to what pharmaceutical substances they contain.  I remembered my WHO days. We had a book on good prescribing practices. It explains how the symptoms may be the same in different cases, but the medicines differed in each case. If my memory serves me right, the young lady in her twenties had monthly-cycle problem, for the taxi driver in his 30s it was an onset of tuberculosis, for the lady in her early 50s it had to do with menopause, and the senior citizen had discontinued his antibiotic course halfway and there was a relapse. 

“I say, just undergo an intense Ayurveda massage treatment. You will be fine,” suggests another on a visit from Kerala. Point well taken, but I would prefer to try out my course of treatment, I told myself. To him, I just nodded with a smile.

This visitor, my close friend, had two motives. One to enquire about my health, and the other, and the more important one, to persuade me to go on an outstation trip together, which we have not done for quite some time. Not sure he has sold the idea to me, he turned to my wife to convince her. “I tell you Sundaram has no problem whatsoever. He just needs a change. Let’s all go to Coimbatore. En route I will hold him at stopovers to restaurants. We will stay for a couple of days, and you two can stay with his sisters and brother for a few days more and have a real change.” We have agreed in principle. 

Pending that, I have sworn to take a walk, both in the morning and evening, in the Pine-Maple-Cedar-Ebony park area when it is more frequented, partly to let my friends see me in one piece, but more importantly to pre-empt their visits with apples and oranges - and make me feel more sick than I am.

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

The Day Yesterday Was – all good things packed

I have heard the expression misfortune never comes single. But can’t particularly remember anything to the convey opposite. Wait a minute. There is a Hindi phrase, "Upar Wala Jab Bhi Deta Hai, Chapar Phaad Ke Deta Hai" - translates to "When the Almighty gives, He gives abundantly."

Yes, yesterday was one of those days. First, we had the day-long Varamahalakshmi festivity when ladies, attired in their best, visited their friends on a give and take of Tamboolam. 

Second, in the afternoon we read the SFV Managing Committee’s welcome announcement that an end to the monkey menace was in sight. Once again we can breathe fresh air our friendly neighbour Turahalli forest supplies in plenty – a primary reason why we went in for this investment. ROI delayed, but not denied. No more staying indoors under lock and key for fear of, what Darwin’s theory of evolution hails, our ancestors. 

Third, in the evening, it was a Carnatic musical extravaganza by Viji Viswanathan, our Hari and Geetha’s (3192), daughter in law. It fell on me to introduce the music crew to the audience. Viji had her initial training in Carnatic music in Mumbai. On clearing Chartered Accountancy in flying colours, she was picked by a multinational American company to work in their Headquarters, Houston. Regardless, she pursued her primary passion, Carnatic music, under the tutelage of Rajarajeswari Bhat – yes, the mother of the well-known Carnatic singer, Kruthkia Bhat (whose husband is equally an accomplished violinist). During her tenure in Dubai Viji got equal opportunities to display her skillset on various occasions, as in Houston. Now Viji is off to the Hague, in the Netherlands as the Global Technical Controller. We learn there is a very good presence of the Indian community there – a vibrant one at cultural, social and religious activities. “Let’s hope,” I concluded, “Viji’s programme this evening acts as a springboard, or a full-dress rehearsal, for her to do equally well in the ones she will give there. As for us, we look forward to a pleasant evening.” 

The next two hours kept the audience spellbound. What a total control of voice and modulation. I have no in-depth knowledge of Carnatic music, but I am a very good listener coming from a family where my father, mother and sisters all have basic knowledge. Whether it was initial warm up song, the following conventional songs, or those of Papanasam Sivan, Purandaradas, or the Abhang, Viji rendered every song to perfection elevating listeners’ pleasure. The only time I felt ill at ease was when seeing me enjoy the performance swaying my head, tapping leg, and hands giving a beat support, Hari’s friend from outside sitting next to me, started asking me, “Is it Hindolam, Bhairavi,” and the like. 

The violinist and the mridangam players were in their early and late twenties. They gave a good account of themselves, more so considering the level of Viji’s performance. Our ever-obliging Dilip arranged for their services, as did Sudharshan Acharya who helped in setting the stage and sound system. Kaleeswaran, busy packing to take off to US, gave a helping hand to Hari.

To sum up, we asked for a pleasant evening – we got three times more in return; thank you Viji. As for Hari and Geetha, by organizing this one-time event you have unwittingly fallen into a trap. Hereafter the SFV audience would insist on you to arrange similar evenings each time Viji visits SFV, be it on a short vacation. Mark my words.

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

 

SFV Seniors’ Vedam Class Completes 6 Years

It was May 2019 when a handful of us floated an IPO (read: idea) for setting up our new Company (read: Vedam Class). I was asked to shoot out the message in Telegram. It was well received. The baby was born. Just four of us to start with. 

Next, who would teach, and who would learn? That was the big question. When it came to teaching Rudram, Chamakam or the Suktams, everyone knew something or everything; but none everything of something – to be able to teach others. Everybody is not Naveen Kashyap. Nonetheless the spirit to learn was undying. So, it churned itself into a sort of, ‘one blind leading the other’. But we were a never-say-die lot, and that worked well. When in doubt we played Chelekere Brothers or other renowned pundits’ versions in Youtube and corrected ourselves.

New members began pouring in. We framed some operational guidelines. Classes will be held on Mondays, Wednesdays and on Pradosham days. If Pradosham fell on one of these days, there won’t be any extra class. Classes will be from 11 am to 12 noon on Mondays and Wednesdays, and from 4.30 to 5.30 pm on Pradosham. 

Each member will host the session in alphabetic order. This stipulation brought a sudden dip in number. Some felt they could attend sessions no doubt, but not host one themselves for one reason or the other: ‘You see I am staying with my daughter; my daughter in law works from home; my grandson is in final year of college…’

Only banana, at the most, will be served as prasadam at the end. If the host wishes, coffee on Pradosham days as those classes are held in evenings. While the chanting days remain unchanged to this date, the hospitality part has undergone metamorphic changes. One fine morning a host handed to everyone an aromatic chundal prasadam as well. Everyone enjoyed it, little realizing its repurcussions.

As of now, in some cases the host starts with a welcome drink, dry fruits to much before the session, butter milk or coffee, and a Navaratri-type of prasadam packet to take home at the end – mostly dry variety not spoiling the religious-book bag, but occasionally the leaking type – panchamrutham or payasam. And those who happen to own a farm, garden or grove, will also pack the produce to the attendees. For many, thus, it is a challenge to Keep Up Appearances – to be no less than the other. 

These teething troubles regardless, the classes have taken off well. We are 12 members now.  We have made substantial progress in learning, despite the fact that very often members absent themselves for long visiting their sons and daughters, and attending other domestic engagements.

We have so far covered Rudram, Chamakam, five suktams, Lalitha Sahasranamam and Vishnu Sahasranamam. The items for chanting are changed to complete in one hour.

All work and no play is no good. The group also undertook one or two one-day trips, enjoying the ride with Anthakshari, musical programs, puzzles, and of course the special dish of the area – Thate Idli, and the like.

This year we thought it was time to celebrate the 6th birthday with all members and their families. We booked MPH-2.  Vishwanathan oversaw the arrangements, Venkatachalam mama coordinated catering, Srinivasan brought photos of Vishnu, Shiva, Goddess Lakshmi, etc. and garlands, Kaleeswaran made everyone sit comfortably in the tent-house chairs, and table for lunch, as also brought puja-related items; Murali arranged for lamp, oil and lighting, Revathi Balasubramaniam brought the Neivedyam; Usha Viswanathan and other ladies jointly rendered the invocation. Dr Ravi Shankar covered the events with his camera, and your  writer was asked to attempt a blog on the event. Last but not the least, Venkatachalam mama assigned his son Sriram and daughter Shyamala to help the group with setting the table, oil the lamp regularly and other leg work 

It was altogether a real welcome change for the seniors. The ambience, the homogenous chanting, the outstanding lunch should all take the cake equally. 

Too bad, our friend Krishnan, of Alder, could not participate as he is still recovering from a treatment. Ravichandran, who recently bounced back into life, was scheduled to attend, but could not, at the last minute.

As I was departing, one member whispered into my ears, “I am okay having such special sessions every month.” “I second it,” said another who overheard it.

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