The Durbar is deserted!

Once upon a time …

The Monarch sat majestic on her polished granite takth (seat of power, royal bench) in the evenings.  

She was flanked by two of her advisers sitting on either side of her. The fountain gushed silently behind her. And the group of nobles all stood in a semicircle a respectable distance from her.

Her closest aide stood in one corner with her ferocious looking Boxer that had the famous English bulldog blood running thru her veins. At times another of her trusted friend would join with her pet black panther cub. Apparently Cleopatra had a pet leopard named Arrow!

Discussion would happen in all seriousness and earnestness and passing nobles would join in from time to time to give their expert opinion. However, the spontaneous eruption of laughter every now and then exposed the fact that even this serious group of elders had a funny bone each and they had not forgotten their mischievous pasts.

It’s been many days..

The polished granite ledge near the fountain is empty. There is no sign of any activity – aptly described in Tamil as Eee Kakka Illai! (No Fly! No Crow!! No Nothing!!!)

The nobles meet no more. The head of the council has gone on vacation.

The aides have dispersed. Maybe they have found a different turf.

The Boxer cum Bulldog does not come. Have not seen the panther cub for a long time.

The children play no more. No surfboarding. Even the boisterous boys seem to have mellowed down.

The air is chilly; the weather, frigid. Even the fountain just trickles.

There is a desolate silence all around and the constant overcast skies & incessant drizzle from 6 to 9PM keeps the entire atmosphere dull, damp and gloomy.

People are waiting. 

And the only question in every one’s mind is

“When will the durbar resume??"

Krish..

These days, Those times!

I watch the children play every evening. Most of them have come out, skating, surfing on their wave board, cycling, scootering, kicking the big ball, tossing the small one, and hitting hard, running and shouting occasionally. All of them, without exception are neatly dressed. Clean clothes and cleaner faces, well groomed hair, clean hands and legs, and wearing well-maintained & in mint condition shoes!

When I was young me and my friends always looked like we recently returned from a battle torn zone. My best friend Pappu, most times had one of his hands in a sling or a plaster cast leg. You throw a stone anywhere and it would hit Pappu – he had a great appetite for disaster, be it falling from the litchi tree or banging his bicycle behind the lazing bullock or simply missing a step and rolling down the stairs!

Me??  I was more of a minor injuries kid of the OPD/first aid variety. My speciality was deeply scarred shins and knees that were perpetually smudged with lal davai (red medicine) or junkshun  violet depending on what stock mom had at home. Lal davai was a mean medicine. It hurt 10x more than the actual wound. 

Lal Davai is tincture iodine – deep orange in color & junkshun violet is the purple coloured Gentian Violet.

I also frequently sported a big cotton swab stuck securely on my forehead or eyebrow or chin with a cross of brown Johnson medical tape (no band aids those days).

And broken teeth, split lips, swollen black eyes or a finger in a splint were abundant amongst us and switched from one to another in a round robin manner. We also suffered from many seasonal ailments like blocked nose, running nose, nose bleeds, conjunctivitis – but none of them ever stopped us from coming out and play.

Looking back at these kids I do not see a single scratch, or a small scab – amazing!! What perfect examples of wonderfully well groomed & well-behaved children!

I am certain my mom would have doubled a king’s ransom to get us swapped with these kids any day!

Us = me and my three sisters.

Our ages - as in arithmetic progression 2,4,6 & 8 with me being the eldest - brightest and smartest too (some male chauvinism here).

I overheard one mom casually mentioning – my daughter comes home, goes for a wash, eats her food. Then she completes her homework and then only goes out to play.

 What is happening to today’s kids, I wonder? Are they real kids or fine-tuned well programmed young robots? 

I thought we were the real kids – rushing home from school, scattering our khakhi school satchel (no fancy backpacks those days) and our uniforms on our bed, tossing our shoes under, grab our chapatis and roll them over dry subzi and rush out to play. I think we were the original inventors of Frankie & Kathi Roll.

And homework, what homework??  Did the teacher give us any homework??  

For a long time, I did not even realise that I had to seriously study to pass my classes. Up till 3^rd or 4^th class it was a cake walk! My mom and dad would visit my teacher (small community where everyone knew each other) every Dussehra, Diwali, and New Year with a big tray of sweets and a gift-wrapped box. They would talk softly, stealing glances at me (guess those were informal PTAs then ??), my dad frowning, mom almost crying. And the teacher would then give a polite understanding nod and I would pass!!

Going to school after 4^th std became real challenging as both my teachers and parents expected me to do some real hard studies (a complex function for which I was neither adequately designed for, nor properly programmed)

I feel so glad when I watch kids go to school so happily. Good for them! Wish I had been born 60 years later.

My school days at St. Joseph’s Academy were not that joyful. Run by the strict Irish Catholic mission, Brother Dooley, Brother Duffy, Brother Dunne, Brother Donald and Brother Donavan all endorsed caning. The pink, bald and rotund Brother Donovan would slowly & softly repeat ‘ you … couldn’t ….care .. less …Krish’ as he administered a couple of stinging lashes on my palms and on my bums. (by the way, I still wear thick, doubleknit, one size larger boxer underpants).

The other teachers were no softer. The tall and well-built lady Hindi teacher specialised in tweaking our ears painfully and lifting them up. We had to tilt our heads, stretch our necks and extend each & every vertebra in our spinal column and balance on our toes to ease the pain.

Maths madam was short and slim and South-Indian. She had a sharp nose and a sharper tongue.  She would rap us on the knuckles with the thick wooden chalk duster.  I also got special bonus warnings -  Palla voddachooduvein! Thoala urichooduvein!! Meaning I will knock off your teeth, peel off your skin!!

Sarge Thapa (ex-Sargent-Gorkha Rifles) our PT teacher was the deadliest. Lord Voldemort would have loved him.  His deadly spell was “Murga-Bano!!!” a posture where you had to spread your legs slightly, bend your knees, bring your hands from behind and thru the legs and catch your earlobes. A few minutes into this asana and every muscle in your body screamed. South India’s popular tamil spell ‘thoppukarnam podu’ is a cake walk compared to ‘Murga Bano’!

The only good memories I have of my school-going days were the Tanga (horse drawn buggies) rides to and back from school.

While the kids today travel on fresh yellow painted buses with impressive names (mostly IBs) stencilled on their sides, we rode on our humble tangas, 6 to 8 kids jampacked in each buggy.  Our satchels and plastic water bottles hanging from each and every protruding wood and nail all around it and drawn by a big sized healthy white mare named Chandini. The choice seats were at the back. No one wanted to sit in front, behind Chandini’s wide bums, because she farted, like forever! A bucket full of fresh grass generously topped up with chana gram (kudarai kollu in tamil) and shalgam (turnips) each day kept her belly full of gas all day. Take off her harness and I would not be surprised if Chandini got airborne like Pegasus!

More on my school days later … and one last thing before I wrap up.

Walk up to any kid here and ask his/her name.

90% chance you would get a name starting with an ‘A’ like in  Anandita, Aarna, Aadit, Ahana, Ahaan, Advait, Ardra or Aarushi!!

Surprised??  You may be, but I am not.

My friends back then were Billu, Bittu, Beera, Babloo, Bunty, Babbu, Babita , Binaca and Babli !!! Incidentally, Babli was my best friend. She was also the self-appointed leader and the alpha male of our gang!!

PS:  My childhood days were split between 2 quaint little towns – Vellore in South and Dehra Dun up north.

Sadly, Pappu died four years back. Billu is in Saharanpur,    and Babita is a practicing Doctor in Agra.

Krish..

Test Match Nostalgia !!

Palladian, 23 Aug:We won the third test match against England at Trent Bridge Nottingham. A fitting reply to our last defeat!

What   a wonderful five days of wholesome cricket!

Forget the TV replays and the short footages in the hews.  Reading the coverage in detail in the sports pages each day was so thrilling & satisfying – especially when we started wining from Day1 itself. Wonder how many people subscribe to Sportstar magazine. Should have some fantastic shots and centre-spread in the coming issue.

Unlike modern day IPL enthusiasts, I strongly endorse the classic 5-day cricket. (for this blog only)

IPL is bad medicine!

How can one substitute a 5-course gourmet meal with a cheap Chinese take-away ?? or take a melodious Mehdi Hasan Ghazal and force fit it on top of a Malkit Singh’s Bhangra rap??

Fast cricket, like fast food in no good for no one in the long run. Only the ad agencies and media houses thrive.

Sad!

Real Sad!!

Cricket is (or was) a gentleman’s game .

Epitomising the true spirit of sportsmanship, grace, style and perfection in each stroke.

A game of leisure played over 5 wonderful bright sunny days (and a rest day thrown in) and played with ultimate patience and unlimited overs in spotless whites. While the players enjoyed the test match, we, the spectators enjoyed 5 days of relaxation & picnic with our friends , family and everyone in the stadium.  We shared a wonderful ambience, bonhomie with both sides and shared our food hampers and floppy hats.  We made tons of friends, exchanged and traded cricketers’ photos, sports mags, and bragged over our heroes! Remember those day long sit-outs in Bombay Brabourne Stadium and  Chennai's Chepauk Stadium days??

And IPL reduced these wonderful cricketing experiences into a frenzied 4-hour football-like brawl!!  Heavily sponsored by the TV media. And no different than the WWF TV wrestling bouts!

My question:  If people wanted to play or watch a fast-paced game, and jostle and scream and sweat and argue and sledging, why don’t they take up football or rugby or buzkashi or quidditch??

Why cripple and maim a wonderful long-standing tradition???

Krish..

The Case of the Mysterious Door Bell Rings

News item in Page 3 of Deccan Herald:

Yenlur, 18 Aug: Doorbells have started ringing mysteriously in many flats at the posh residential complex of Sobha Palladian. Over the last few days many residents have responded to multiple door bells without any visitor. Many are irritated at this strange phenomenon, some are angry and some scared.

Only a few months back, loud water gurgling sounds were heard at many places and toilets started flushing in the middle of the nights nonstop. That mystery was solved and traced to high water pressure on the overhead tanks and faulty Cera flushes.

The new door bell ringing has baffled many. The MC believes it could be due to faulty wiring – a design defect by Sobha, but they are taking no chances. A dog squad has been pressed in to service led by Duke, Zoey and Bhageera. Persian trained sniffer cats have also been called in.  Security is beefed up to apprehend all invisible infiltrators!

Ding Dong! Ding Dong!! The bell rang.

Its a long walk from my corner bedroom to the door. And I am in the middle of Sue Grafton (the famous Private Investigator) being chased by a gang of goons! I walk up and open the door, and there is no one!

I am puzzled. Did i really hear the bell ring? Or is it the tension of the story that rang some alarm bells inside my brain??

I come back and resume my reading.

Ding Dong! Ding Dong !!

This time I am smart.  I say to myself – let it ring, I am not going to get fooled again . If there is really somebody they will ring again and go back to my book.

Ding Dong! Ding Dong!! Ding Dong !!!

Now I am certain I have a visitor – but how come no my gate app buzz ?? 

I open the door and I only see the beautiful ceramic welcome plate softly chiming on my neighbour’s door. I check my wall clock. Its only 5pm. and too early for any ghost to come out! And soon there are many more mysterious rings in other flats too.

My next-door neighbour is furious! Her tuition classes have been disturbed a dozen times.

Our diametrically opposite neighbour is zapped. He had made four sorties to the door during a Netflix serial. After the fifth unsuccessful door opening he suspects his newly opened wine bottle. Inspecting thoroughly, he finds no tampering or signs of a fake on the Chardonnay bottle.

????   and then  he notices the gold embossed special limited-edition logo. And he exclaims: Arre Wah !! aaj kal nasha bhi audio-visual ho gaya hai!! Sirr chakkar ke saath sound effects bhi aa raha hai!!!

A few moments later I see the durbar in full session. All members with deep concern creased on their foreheads are discussing the Kerala floods and the mysterious bell rings. They suspect errant boys playing pranks. And with their legendary speed and efficiency the MC members swing into action!

A rapid task force is formed. A special investigator is appointed. Armed with a B Ed, she has enormous experience with kids & grand kids. And she can mentally fingerprint every child in Palladian and from any profile. 

 Video footage is called, frame by frame scrutiny happens and after some serious discussions the verdict announced.

5 kids who have recently finished reading all the Enid Blyton series wanted some action of their own!

What next Sir Ji? Kya Dandh Diya Jaaye ?

Durbar to decide in today’s session !

Krish..

My Experiences with Cold !!

This is a work of pure fiction.

Well, not 100%. I took a capful of truth and added a bottle of exaggeration.

Tossed in a truck-load of MDH garam masala and MTR’s bissee bele mix.

And for some more zing, I put in,

A heaped spoon of LG powder and Van-Devi hing!

So pl don’t stretch your imagination.

Just read on and ride with the tide?

I tend to cough and sneeze often.

Four days of brisk walk early morning invariably leads me to two days in quarantine- doused all day-long in Vicks, Amrutanjan and Axe Oil.

Every time I sneeze, I seem to create, and instantly, a well-qualified doctor or a medical specialist!

Last few times I recall ..

The retired ever smiling maama on the mel maadi (upper floor) immediately became an MD in general medicine and prescribed a few strong tablets and a dose of antihistamines.

The elegantly dressed once-again grand mom visiting her latest edition of new born grandkid is an expert at home remedies (& she must be).  Crush a few Tulsi leaves with ginger and boil  in 2 cups water with pepper and 2 spoons of honey, and you got your magic potion, she proclaimed!

Even the short smart schoolkid is an ENT Surgeon: Uncle, you sneeze too much!  get a scan and go for surgery – she commands. And she is probably spot on! I may have to go for a sinus surgery.

Inside the medical shop in Marathahalli, a confident voice of the chemist booms: Saar, Go for Ayurveda ! Yimm- meediate curing. Good doctor in the side gali. 6.30 to 9.30!

My driver becomes the yoga expert:  ‘ Sir, you must do pranayama and Ustrasana  every morning – within 7 days you will get cured ‘ . 

I also discovered that my friendly security guard can transform himself into an expert on   Baba Ramdev’s ‘Jadi Booti ‘ Himalayan medicine. – Saab, ek chammach Patanjali ka Chavanprash Awalehya har din leejiye.  Saari Jhukaam ek dum doore ho jayegi !!

And I honestly believe that each one of these remedies actually work – but not while I am having a cold.  They will help prevent my cold and not cure the one that I have today.

So, my advice – sit back, relax, pamper yourself and wallow in your cold. Take a few days off (you can sound pretty awful in a concall - coughing and snorting frequently until your boss begs you to log off).  Indulge yourself with lots of good food and frequent warm lemonade and plenty of fruits. Watch TV, read a book, listen to music, catch up on your movie list & just chill out!

And if your mom or wife fuss over you, soak in and simpli enjoy maadi!

You have earned a well-deserved, week-long vacation in Paradise (otherwise spelt as Sobha Palladian) !!

And.....      Remember the magic potion?? 

I have tried it many times . It works wonderfully.

If you add 2 doses of honeybee brandy and a couple of shots of Smirnoff, you can get that extra Zing and increase its potency by 10x.

The new improved formula can take on a wide spectrum of ailments starting from simple headaches to migraines to arthritis to haemorrhoids!

I would also suggest storing this potion in a recycled bottle of VAT69 or Old Bailey’s.

Caution: Keep it in a cool dry place out of reach  from children !

Krish..

An evening @ Palladian!!

I open my front door and a fast-thin form zips past by me.

The thin girl from third block is on her two wheeled skateboards. She glides gracefully down the foyer and just before she slows down to a halt, her waist twists rapidly, the back-leg swings sideways and she propels herself with a new force riding over the paved surface and into Block 1.

Soon some more join her – the chubby one with perpetually rosy cheeks, the smart one with good English and a great accent to identify a few. And they glide smooth on whatever surface.

If you have at any time watched a group of ‘krishna’ Garudans (Brahminy Kite ), lazily surfing the warm thermals, you would notice these kids ae no different. Such grace, poise, elegance and balance on their surfboards!

And the boys, as usual, making a racket between block 5 &1.

Everything has changed. Girls do not play pandi (hopscotch) and boys play ( kanchey) marbles no more. Many may have never heard of Pittoo or Kho-Kho.  And whatever is  gulli-danda ??

Thankfully I-Spy has survived the test of time. A few tiny tots hide behind the giant sofa and behind the pillar next to me .

Do you know what was my favourite pastime when I was five??  

Rolling an old bicycle tyre with a short stick! and I could do it all day. All thru the narrow streets near my thatha’s (grand-dad’s)  house in Vellore, over the parapets, over the uncut logs in Velu mama’s veragu thotti ( wood cutter’s yard ) over lazy-Muthu the old mongrel, right thru the water puddle leaving nice wet kaal marks ( foot prints) accompanied by a wavy line, and into the house, right across the freshly mopped hall, into the muttham ( tiled courtyard) drawing a tight circle, and running out real fast closely chased by  my chitti with a hot dosa thuduppu (steel spatula),  over the stairs …. until my tyre got entangled under a passing cycle rickshaw or banged straight into the motta-paati  ( a widowed grandmother ) next door .  And what a vocabulary she has reserved for such occasions, and in chaste Tamil . WoW!!

I snap out my musing to watch my neighbour conducting her durbar outside.  She sits erect on the marble parapet, with her two friends on either sides and a group of folks in a semicircle around her. Seems they are discussing something serious. With grave faces and in measured voices. Must be MC matters. When all of a sudden, the august gathering erupts into loud laughter. The Chief has struck again, I know.  And the conversation resumes with shrill voices amidst animated banters.

Soon peace descends, the tall dad has served a full toss and the 6-year-old has connected well sending the ball on a high arc right over the fountain. 

No sound from the boisterous boys – probably busy searching for the ball.

And a wonderful tranquillity sets in .

All for a few seconds.

An ear-splitting shrieking sound followed by a thunderous roar rents the atmosphere.

Have some pishchas and pishashins (Banshee) been let loose???

I look up and watch Big Bertha fly overhead. She is on a yet another mission today. What an awesome girl she is!

Big Bertha (as I have fondly named her) is the huge strategic airlifter Illushin deployed by India Air Force. Its used for heavy hauling and mid-air refuelling as well. With a wingspan of 50 metres (that’s 165ft! ) and weighing 92 tonnes, it can haul another 90 tonnes !!

Imagine how much power the 4 turbofan engines need to generate to fly this big bird. No wonder the engines screen like crazy.

 And as she flies overhead, her wing span covers the entire Block 1 rooftop, her undercarriage close to scraping the overhead water tanks as she laboriously climbs inch by inch.

I can visualise the old battle scarred veteran pilot coaxing his big baby with soothing words ‘easy girl , easy. You can do it ‘ while he very slowly  pulls on the joy stick and pats her dials.

Back to terra firma ..

It’s become dark and the moms and maids have come, calling out to the children. Reluctant children keep playing and running away.

The clouds have heard the calls too and they tune in a fine drizzle. And everyone rushes back home!!

Krish..

Welcome Folks !!

Dear Folks ,

As a group we have been communicating very effectively over e-mails and WhatsApp.
Mostly essential news updates and a lot of forwards over WhatsApp.

Its time we create some original content, flaunt our literary skills and share our experiences,
story telling skills over a common forum .

So here is our platform and the opportunity to unleash some free will writing !!

So Lets all Blog !
Lets have some fun !!

Krish..