When you could buy a Bun-Samosa combo for 25 Paise !!

In my school days, I would buy a bun-samosa combo for 25 Paise . And for another 25 Paise,  a bottle of Coca-Cola or Gold Spot ! and that was as good as a  Mc Donald value meal minus the fries!!

Vellore:  Sometimes my Patti would run short of an essential ingredient (like pepper, jeera or methi seeds) while cooking and she would ask one of us grand kids to run to the nearby provision store and buy.

And we would fight among us to ensure that we (one of us)  get nominated for this errand.

By the way, I wonder how many moms in SP have sent their 6 year olds rushing to CT Street to buy a packet of perungayam (hing) and a bunch of dhania (coriander leaves) ??

And would that kid know the difference between dhania and kadi patta ??

And I am sure most kids, even older may not know how to differentiate between channa daal and arhar daal or between saunf and jeera??

Thankfully they may not need to know so early in their life. . 

Nowadays when a mom runs out of something, all she has to do is fire up her WhatsApp  and send an SoS to the Palladian ladies group , “ Emergency!! Need a spoonful of haldi please!!!”

And presto!  There will be at least 4 willing moms to help her.  And everyone in this group knows the  advantages & virtue of being immediately  helpful – because  they themselves would be in dire need of a few pieces of ginger and a few green chillies someday!!!

A big thanks to Jan and Brian for their contribution  to the world!!

Back to Vellore. Everyone of us (meaning 7) grand kids would be most happy to run errands for Patti.  She would give a bag and a few coins to buy what she wanted.

And we would run up to the farthermost shop on  the opposite road  and to Kesavan mama’s Lakshmi Provision store for our purchase. While this meant more distance and running in the scorching heat, it was well worth the effort. Kesavan Mama had a glass jar full of broken pieces of sugar sweets and candy bars. And after he took our money and handed us the purchase, he would reach out for that jar containing multicolored bits of candies. He would dip in his hand and dole out a generous portion of the broken candies along with a lot of crushed candy powder as well. And if and when the jar ran out  he always had that big gunny bag full of jaggery from where he would extract a small lump for us.  

That’s kosuru in Tamil and runga in Hindi !

This was his CRM and he maintained our 100% loyalty!

No reward points, monthly statements or fancy e-award websites for him. Plain instant gratification worked out best for him !!!

And by the way a few coins in a 6 year old’s hand was sufficient to buy a fair amount of daily necessities then. Seering a one rupee paper note was rare and thatha kept them along with the pale green 5 rupee notes in a leather clip-on wallet inside the Godrej locker. Grandmom kept coins for daily and incidental purchases in her kitchen. She stored low denomination coins like 0ne , Two , Three and Five and Ten paises in a Bournvita tin and on the middle shelf of her larder. The naalanna and ettanna ones (4 annas and eight annas), she put them in a small eversilver (stainless-steel) dubba and hid that behind the square sugar tin on the top shelf.

Our maid Aandal would hide her coins deeply buried inside her rice tin or daal tins, well out of reach from her drunkard husband.

Over the last 55 years things have changed.

Wonder how many of SP 6 year olds have seen the small copper one paise disc?

Or the square two and five paise nickel coins?  Some rumors had it that a business man was siphoning off all these coins from the market and melting them to extract nickel which was more valuable than the coin itself!!

Or the hexagon shaped later generation two paise and three paise and five paise aluminium coins ?

Or the light weight ten paise and the brass tinted twenty paise round coins ??

Its no longer the coin era, but I read somewhere that the Indian government is planning to mint new coins very soon.

While our earnings have multiplied an average forty times, the prices seem to have gone up fifty times!  And unless you were  able to beat the inflation and get richer by making significant career jumps and subsequently quantum salary jumps, you would be poorer now.

I started at Rs700/- per month  as a trainee and was confirmed at Rs. 1350/- a proud four figure salary then! And I remember The Hindu and Hindustan Times matrimonial’s ‘brides wanted’ section proudly announcing the eligible boy earning five figure salary per anum!  

Today even a million in Indian rupees doesn't mean much. You need to earn a lot more .

And a plum IT job in a multinational company backed up with a US green card  can ensure definite success in your bride hunting venture, , I bet !!

Things have changed !

The coins were replaced by paper currency. And paper currency was replaced by plastic cards.  And plastic cards are getting rerpalced by e-pay thru the ubiquitous smartphone and very soon there will be crypto currency all over.

Yuval Noah Harari rightly said , currency is a story !

A wonderful make believe story created by mankind !!

Krish..

A Sunday in Sobha Palladian !!

Its Sunday!

And its 9.30 AM and I am on schedule.

In my balcony, hanging out our clothes to dry.

And I have not seen a single soul so far.

No bustle or even a hint of the usual hectic typical weekday mornings.

I did not hear the little one stomping noisily as she runs ahead of her dad on her way to the School bus. Nor the sound of one little sister cycling along with her mom to leave her didi at the gate. Did not hear the clear ringing voice of that 6 year old boy talking to his grand mom is ‘spasht’ tamil!

I did not see Achachan (grand-dad in Malayalam) carrying his grandson in his left arm and leading his granddaughter with his right forefinger up to the front gate. And no animated discussion by older kids on the small patch of grass opposite our right corner bedroom window.

Nor did I see parents in groups of two’s and three’s, walking back and occasionally stopping by the fountain to exchange a few bits of news before they get back to their hectic schedule for the day!!

No Fly, No Crow, No Nothing – Eee, Kakka Illai (as the tamils will say)

The only sign of life – the silent, electric, green, farm fresh vegetable cart (all eco-friendly and organic - mind it!)

All peace and quiet. So calm and serene. Like Shantivan - a wonderful atmosphere well worth the crores we payed to Sobha.

What did the kids do on a Sunday morning???

My data is badly outdated, but I guess most of them are still sleeping.

And now I see Hari coming near the fountain with a few kids. The SP cricket coaching session is about to start!!

When I was 8, my Sundays were packed. 

Dad had bought an old second hand Lambretta scooter and she was a B&%$! Her crankiness cranked up a couple of notches every time her engine got cranked. The daily routine was for me was to give her a couple of kicks to prime her engine and get the petrol flow started. Then dad would give a few more powerful kicks and she roared to life fumigating the entire place with white exhaust fumes. Sorry no Euro4 or Bharat Stage 4 standards nor feather touch start buttons then.

Come Sunday and our Lambretta was the princess in a beauty parlour! All the four of us rushed out to wash and clean her.

I went with a bucket full of water. My next in line sister closely followed me with a mug full of frothy shampoo, then majli (the middle one) with yellow Waxpol car polish tin and chataki with dad’s torn banian and a large piece of mom’s saree.

Chatak = Ozhaakku  = a small unit of measure.

And we went about with the enthusiasm and energy levels of a newly promoted call center team lead.

Splashed and shampooed Lambretta, cleaned and dried her, splashed water under the footboard to dislodge those gobar lumps and lovingly polished her!  With great care and dedication no less than that of that pious Bhattachar who washes and adorns the Ganapathi idol  every sankata-hara-chaturthi day at the entrance of  CT Street!!

We did not put sandal paste or Kumkum on her- that was reserved for Ayudha Puja on the 13^th day of Dussehra.

25 years later, I found myself doing the same thing – this time with my second hand Fiat 1100 car and ably assisted by my 5-year-old   daughter.

Those days, people owning cars were an elite lot.

Passionate & loving, they were expert mechanics who cared & nurtured their car religiously every Sunday. Every car whether it was a brand-new black Ambassador or the old veteran Standard-10 station wagon, each one needed attention weekly – fill up radiator water, top up engine oil, clean battery leads on top, clean air filter, grease all joints and door hinges and finally tune up the engine.

Engine tuning was a fine art requiring immense patience, expertise and concentration – keeping one ear dangerously close the hot engine as you precisely turn the screws of the inlet gas and air nozzles alternately to ensure you get that perfect purr!!

Sunday mornings, you could not walk a couple of blocks around Mylapore or Mandeville or Malleshwaram, without noticing a middle-aged mama bending over the front of his beloved car – with his seni-bald head lost under the open bonnet and his white veshti covered butt jutting up on top of the radiator!

Groups of car owners would also surprisingly form within seconds to discuss the intricacies of car maintenance, mileages and expert opinions on nearby service stations & mechanics. (sadly, today WhatsApp has taken away that personal touch and passion)

I am sure today’s flash mobs had their origin somewhere here! 

And all such activities had to finish before 11AM Sharp.

11AM on the dot, Sunday mornings, All India froze.

Every TV anywhere in India tuned into Ramanand Sagar’s Ramayan and later to Yash Chopra’s Mahabharat.  

And  The Earth Stood Still !!

And while Klaatu (Keanu Reeves) managed to freeze the world by a couple of minutes, Ramanand Sagar & Yash Chopra froze our part of the world by full 60 minutes!!

And they did it each successive Sunday for 180 weeks in a row !!!

And needless to say…

Our Gods, even inside our small TV screens are much more powerful than the imported Aliens from Outer Space !!!

Krish..

When I was young…

Remember Cliff Richard’s Bachelor Boy hit number  When I was young my father said ??

I take you back to the early 60’s when I was young, but not yet 16.

And that was 56 years back.

I was nowhere like any of the current generation young school going kids I see in Sobha Palladian!

And I honestly wonder how today’s kids are so sober, well mannered, polite and even courteous to each other! The other day Jayanthi heard a chubby one say, ‘Thank you A… for coming out to play with me ‘. I thought that was delightfully cute & wonderfully civil.

It’s been 20 months since I moved in, and I have not seen a single fist fight, no rough and tumble fights either.  Things ae perfect here!  Like Ram Rajya.

Back then in my time, things were different. We were not civil to each other, to say the least.  A week without a fight or a tussle was a miracle. And we looked spoilt for a good fight. Our personality reflected our mindset.  Our hairstyle displayed our attitude.

 The local mohalla (community) bully had a dry brown mop on is head. The tall & tough one had long hair covering his ears (a raging fashion then – angry Amitabh Bachhan style).

Mine was an unruly but    well-oiled bush where each hair had an attitude of its own defying any comb or grooming. My mom had tried everything – from the popular Colgate castoroil hair oil, a red viscous liquid that took ages to flow thru the small opening to the pungent Dabur’s Brahmi Amla Kesh Tel. No success.

Thank God she did not try Simmi instant hair fixer – the sweet smelling gooey, sticky liquid that our neighbourhood Sardarji family used.

Vir ji and his sons used to tame their Simmi oiled beard under a white strip of cloth that covered their chin and cheeks and tied into a knot on top of their head.

A haircut by 65-year-old Munna  was only good for two weeks. Munna was our Mohalla’s well regarded nayee  – a full time barber and a  part time match maker. The second business has been seriously hit by aggressive on-line matrimonial sites and most nayees have switched to real estate business nowadays.

We played hard and lived dangerously. Never saw a swimming pool and I cannot remember when or how I learnt swimming. Probably jumped in to the huge well near our house in Vellore and thankfully did not get drowned. 

And our spare time was spent in real life 3D - not the VR/AR type but really real.  (AR/VR = Augmented Reality/Virtual Reality).

 We lived and played on the ground, roof tops, treetops, jumping thru old tractor tyre hanging from the mango tree branch, swinging from its branches & enjoying and exploiting all the three degrees of freedom!!

Wish God had created a few more.

And we got hurt, and sometimes real bad.

Back to Sobha Palladian!

Injuries are rare here.

I have seen only one girl with a hand in a sling so far in last 20 months. An excellent record for SP safety and security measures. 

We also have a dozen dogs & cats.

We had one unfortunate case of a dog bite. But not a single cat scratch reported so far.

Hats off and a big thank you to all the pet lovers for being so responsible. (Dog Poo is a different challenge though)

My time??

Injuries were a plenty! The bigger the injury, the more proudly we boasted about it!!

And each of our injury uniquely betrayed one of our forbidden activities!

 Broken arm/leg or finger meant a fall from guava tree (they have very smooth & slippery branches).

Deep scratches and chaffed calves /forearm meant a painful slide from the mango or litchi tree trunk (rough and chipped barks).  Scratches all over the face and forearms came from climbing up and down the ber tree(the thorny wild berry one). 

Cuts on eyebrow, bleeding nose or split lips meant a health fist fight with a worthy adversary.

Twisted wrists/ankles & Purple swellings (karu-raththam in tamil) on forehead or limbs certified us being chased by the mango/litchi baag’s (grove) bad-tempered maali (gardener cum guard) resulting in some of us jumping off from the compound wall .

Torn pant seats and shirt tails also indicated the same activity, but with the bad-tempered maali being replaced by his equally bad-tempered mongrel caching up on us real close!!

And some very sober activities also got us hurt..

Like riding our dad’s bicycle right into the backside of a fat buffalo that occupied most of the narrow unlit road on a winter evening and getting our front teeth knocked out.

Like getting deep cuts on our fingers while trying to slice raw mangoes with a shaving blade.

Like the many other bruises that one gets while chasing a ‘kati-patang’ through the narrow streets, rooftops and jumping fences.

And what is more interesting to note is that both boys and girls of our age sported equal number of similar injuries. We all payed rough and with no gender bias at all!

And remember Babli, the alfa-male in our gang? She always sported two mean ones at any point in time!

All in All, our life then was exciting to say the least and I am glad I am still alive and in one piece to tell you the story.

Krish..

My early childhood was spent in two quaint little towns – Dehra Dun up in the North and Vellore down South. At a time when we did not have TVs, Smart phones, PCs and Malls and Mc Donalds!!

Good Friday 1982 !!

I started this post last Good Friday, 19^th April, and finally managed to complete it now!

Every year, on Good Friday, Jayanthi and I recollect the historic event of that day  and have a hearty laugh !

That Good Friday in the year 1982 was the day we both met each other for the first time .

And if you expect that to be a wonderful romantic day  , forget it!!

Sadly, there was was nothing remotely exciting or romantic about it at all !

For a starter,

Jayanthi did not drop her load of books, and I did not kneel down to pick them up…

And I did not look up at her face, and she did not look down into my eyes..

And Cupid did not fire all his arrows in  a frenzy ..

Nothing of that sort ever happened  that day.

And,

Nor did my hiking backpack (with 5 pouches and equal number of buckles and sashes ) get entangled with Jayanthi’s bulky handbag ( with half a dozen zips and equal number of fancy tassels ) as we struggle to take them out of the overhead cabin baggage compartment.

Nor did Cupid play his match making trick  by putting our check-in baggage at the very end of the line so that only the two of us  waited patiently at the baggage claim carousel.

Nor did we strike up a conversation,

Nor did sparks fly and nor did it create a roaring flame of love !!

Sorry, None of that happened !!

And neither did any of those 100 +1  romantic scenes that you always see in a Hindi or a Tamil movie when the boy meet the girl for the first time!!

Our love story was not scripted by any of those famous Bollywood bigwigs.

And if you still want to know what happened on that day that year, you have to read thru this entire blog !! No short cuts !!

November, 1981. My second sister got married.

And dad and mom  breathed a big sigh of relief -two daughters married off, and just one more to go. And they were not bothered about  me at all. You see my  marriage would not result in another negative cash flow !

Come February, 1982, my parents discovered I was very friendly with a girl in my office . She had visited our house a couple of times and they knew her.

But she was not from a South Indian Iyengar family.

We enjoyed a strong friendship that was born out of mutual trust and respect for each other, and ofcourse, two years of working together in the same office. We shared our workload whenever possible and helped each other out when our bosses gave us tight deadlines..

And many times when we worked late, I would drop her off at her home.  And it was only during those times when we talked anything personal or shared notes on our families.

And we exchanged gifts – I would give her home-made sweets and chocolates on Diwali and on her birthdays;  and she would give me Easter eggs, Marzipan and Plum cakes on Easter and Christmas !

And I would buy her trinkets and chocolates  and perfumes during my frequent travels.

And one such time I bought her a bunch of bright Gold and Silver painted wood roses from Kaveri Emporium, Bangalore.

And my dad got concerned (mighty worried is a better expression) .

And while he could convincingly argue that there is nothing wrong in a South Indian brahmin girl marrying a Punjabi boy, or a Bengali or a Christian boy for that matter, when it came to his own son, it was ‘family values and duty towards our religion &  faith‘ that could never be compromised !!

And so he went into an   overdrive – to find a suitable South Indian brahmin girl for me and get me married off before I could get any serious ideas.

In 1982, there was no bharatmartrimony.com or Shaadi.com. All matchmaking was done thru a network of relatives and Vaadiyaars (Priests) and Parijaarans (cooks). In the North it was the local Nayee  (barber) who specialized in this activity. The only other option was  “Brides wanted” section in The Hindu. 

Soon a barrage  of envelopes with corners tipped with turmeric paste started filling our mail box each day. And for the next few Saturdays  Dad and mom paid regular visits to the astrologer in Matunga Circle in Mumbai, matching horoscopes and shortlisting prospective options. 

And they finalized on 4 ‘eligible candidates’ from Chennai.  

Four perfectly matched horoscopes !!

And very soon I found myself travelling by Madras Mail to Chennai along with Dad and Mom.

Day 1:  Arrive in Chennai. Rest a bit. Have bath, Eat and freshen up for the first prospective girl’s house.

Pile into the old beaten second hand Standard- Herald car that my Brother in law had. With  dad in front and  me squeezed between my mom and my sis in the back seat.

And soon we driving back home.

‘Will not be suitable for our Krish’ – dad said finally. Very thin and looks anorexic was his assessment.  Mom agreed and my sis and BIL nodded in agreement. And I am sure the girl’s side would also have found something unacceptable about me as well.

Was I consulted ?  No way !!

One down , three to go . And I was hopeful.

Day 2 - Second girl : Tall and very smart looking. Instead of making a grand appearance in a traditional silk saree  and other paraphernalia, she wore a plain but  elegant chiffon saree. And she just walked up along with her dad to the entrance and greeted us in and introduced herself. And she struck up a good conversation with all of us.

I thought that was very cool !

But to my parents – that was  not cool at all.

And did they ask my opinion?  No way !!

And so went the other two prospects as well.

Last day and we had to catch our train at 10 PM in the night .

Dad an mom got desperate and went thru the pile of left over horoscopes and came up with one that was not a perfect match and our astrologer had not recommended. However my BIL phoned the family and got us invited .

And at 2 PM, we were at the girl’s place.

A huge hall filled with people everywhere !

There was the girl’s dad, mom and her two elder brothers.  And her uncle and his wife and his daughters and their husbands.  And another uncle and his family and her grand mom too.

Only five us from  our side,  we were totally outnumbered by this show of strength.

I sat in one corner of the large hall and Jayanthi sat diagonally opposite some 25 - 30 feet away flanked by her brother and her uncle . 

And everybody was talking, identifying common friends, relatives and native places etc.

Suddenly a large silver tumbler with piping hot coffee was thrust into my hands. (I am used to sipping coffee gently from a large ceramic mug with a big handle).  So the rest of my entire time was spent in gingerly holding the tumbler by it rim, furiously blowing into the coffee and carefully managing to pour a few drops every now and then into my mouth from a height of 2 inches. 

And by the time I finished my coffee, the meeting was over and we were saying good byes.

We did not even see  each other properly and obviously never got a chance to talk either.

And interestingly as I was  walking back to our car ..

“ Pillai ku kaal seria irukka paaru da, Kanna “  her grand mom  whispered to her dad. ( my mom walked with a pronounced limp, and  she thought that  could be genetic.  Smart thinking, old girl !!)

And while we were driving home dad and mom were talking about fixing the marriage date !

Was I consulted ?? No way !

And that was it !

It was 25 minutes in a large room packed with people and the two of us sitting 25 feet apart.

And our fate was sealed, then and there !

And the next time we met, we were sitting together, in front of a very smoky fire at our marriage ceremony early morning at 4.30 AM !

And it has been 37 years since that day and we are still going strong – in spite of all the mismatches in our horoscopes !

Krish..

Infant Jesus Church, Vivek Nagar

I often go the Infant Jesus Church in Vivek Nagar, Bangalore .

Infant Jesus Shrine

For 2 reasons :-

1)  I like the environment – Calm, serene and peaceful, open and spacious frontage . Huge underground parking lot, No crowd except on Thursdays and Sundays. Widely spaced benches to sit on .  Large, well lit and airy hall which is cool in summers.

Unlike the  somewhat crowded and stuffy environment inside most of the  popular south Indian temples .

2)  I like the convenience – I can enter the church and walk right up to the Altar without removing my shoes and socks !  And I can sit on the comfortable benches (pews), kneel on the smooth wooden plank below (kneelers) , rest my hands in front and recite my prayers.

Unlike the temples where I would have to remove my S & S , wash my hands and feet, cautiously walk over hard stone & prickly surface and negotiate the various water / oil spills and the mashed prasad ( prasadam ) patches on the floor !!

I buy a large bunch of candles from the deaf and dumb man (I need to get his name) each time, light them one by one , counting off the many groups of people on whose behalf I offer each candle – starting with myself, my family, my relatives , my close friends, all my bosses , my colleagues in Bgl, Mumbai office , my colleagues in Gurgaon office , my other old colleagues and friends in the various communities I have lived & abroad and elsewhere ! In fact – My Sarva Kutumba – my entire global family !!

Then I walk up to the front, look up at the Infant Jesus’ radiant face , close my eyes and picture him in my memory, walk around the small statue , put my offerings into the bin and walk back to the benches and sit down. And then kneel and say my prayers. And sit peacefully and soak in the peace and calmness of the environment.

Many a time I have tried to ask for favors – like … please help me meet my budget numbers , help me make a great plan / presentation , help me get over my persistent cold soon etc, etc .. But I never manage to get enough seriousness and focus into such pleas and then they all invariably end up at the common denominator – please give me good health & good sensibility . I am happy , so please maintain my current level of happiness and nothing more , O God !

Not very ambitious – but then I do not lack anything in particular and I have no reasons to complain.

And after some time I move from the Infant Jesus shrine to the main church hall – a vast circular hall without any pillars to obstruct your view of the Altar. 

Some days  I am in time for the  late morning mass in Tamil and I enjoy the songs sung by the chorus.  Great music and melodious.

Some days I get to observe a wedding in progress. The young bride and groom (and most of them appear to be in their early twenties) standing smartly before the priest as he performs the rituals and gives his sermon in chaste Tamil (Senthamizh) . He then reads a couple of passages from the holy Bible. And the choir of 5 women, all dressed in bright colored sarees sing wonderfully  to the tune of the Organ music ( I think it is the Keyboard playing) booming thru the speaker clusters overhead.  And then the long line for the holy communion.

I  sit in a corner watching all this, the simplicity of this short & quiet wedding and silently bless the couple with a good and healthy life together filled with joy and happiness.

Last week, after my usual routine I sat back on a bench and observed the stream of devotees ..

And here is what I saw in the Infant Jesus Shrine …

A young couple came in – obviously Christians  from their actions and attire . They lit 2 candles murmured a short prayer, briskly walked up to the altar, quickly kissed the feet to infant Jesus statue , put an offering and walked out !

And old woman , pain reflecting on her face , slowly knelt in front of the statue , arms spread out wide, eyes closed , prayed for some time . She got up, hugged the statue, took off one of the garlands and slowly trudged out !

Many more came in - some keeled , prayed silently , some collected a few candles, others touched the feet / kissed the feet , hugged Infant Jesus statue, mentally asked for favors and left .

And I could well imagine their feelings and the pain and sufferings of some of those people. And I felt extremely sober and humbled!

And I felt very blessed that God has given me so much more than these folks. And there was absolutely no reason for me not to be happy and cheerful every day.

And then ..

A young lady walked in . In a bright mauve colored saree with a matching top .
No Christian definitely - observing the red bindi on her forehead and the faint streak of vibhuti ( sacred ash ) above it .
She quickly took of her sandals , pushed it to a corner , knelt in front of the statue , did a perfect south Indian Hindu style pranaan ( 3 times ) , then walked up to Infant Jesus, touched his feet with her right hand and then passed it over her head , stood near the statue and prayed .

Wonder how she prayed ?? – may be the English prayer we all learn at our Christian missionary school or the common Sanskrit shlokas we all learn at our homes !!

Then she picked up a short strand of flower , put some money into the bin, walked past me , slipped on her sandals and left !!

And I watched her all along..

Very amused at first and then thought over what she had done very seriously!

This lady had behaved and acted exactly the same way as she would normally do in any Ganesha temple or  in the  Chamundeshwari temple in CT Street!  

To her God meant the same person and there was only one way to worship and offer her prayers – the one she had been taught from her childhood..

And as I was reflecting on this incident some more time, I went into  a silent introspection.

Is Infant Jesus any different from all the other gods I worship ?
Is this church any different than any of the other temple I visit as often ?

Then why do I behave so differently here ?

Why do I mutter ‘Our father who art in heaven…’ instead of the regular Sanskrit sholakas & hymns?

Why do I assume that Infant Jesus will not understand my prayers if I  recite them in Sanskrit?

And why do I so confidently walk up to the main altar here with my shoes on, when I can never imagine doing such an act in any temple or a gurudwara??

I sat for long , thinking  and questioning myself
And I got no answers!

And I am not sure what I will do next time I come here ..

Krish..

The Gillette always wins! My experiments with growing a beard.

An observant eye in Sobha Palladian commented:

I once saw Venki with a luxuriant beard

And now I see Venki without it

Sad, isn't it ??

The Gillette ultimately won after all!!

Venki = Our most popular and respected Chief of Sobha Palladian. He also double hats as the Secretary of the SPOA Management Committee.

At a dominating 54% global market share (which was at 70% in 2010) P&G’s Gillette is ruthless.

And Venki’s beard had no chance at all!

My experiments with growing a beard…

Ours is a very conservative middle class South Indian family .
And all men have been clean shaven – since generations ..
Probably ever since our early ancestors managed to chop off their beard with a well sharpened stone axe !
So, mustache, beard, french beard and even side-burns have been a taboo !

And to my grand dad, early morning shave was as serious a ritual as performing  his surya namaskaram and morning poojas.

While he took cold water bath, his shaving cup had to be filled with piping hot water.

And he would squat on the floor ceremoniously, a small stool in front held the mirror and the hot water and the dark brown & black haired brush with a wooden handle, Godrej shaving round  and a Gillette shaving razor and a pack of Wilkinson safety blades (7 O’ Clock and Topaz being the other brands). 

You turn the bottom end of the razor handle and the top opens up. And you carefully place the blade in between and close. You could also adjust the shaving angle by setting the calibrated band at the neck.

Grand dad would shave methodically, clean up all the spills with his Malayalam thundu (towel), wipe the edge of the blade carefully and wrap it back in its butter paper cover and then the main cover. He would then add a notch on the edge of the cover paper to record the number of shaves completed.

Once the life of the blade was over he would clean and wipe the blade again and then split into two and give it to us for sharpening our pencils!.

I am the only non conformist in our family and I demonstrated my lack of respect for such tradition right from the time a couple of hair strands started appearing on my chin…
A sad looking goatee in my teens, a healthier mustache in college and a smart beard during my post grad days amply demonstrated the rebellion in me.

However after taking up a serious job and getting married later on, all of this disappeared (including the rebellion part). 

A mustache though remained for a long time and at times it was luxuriant enough to challenge Graham Gooch, OBE ( the famous English cricketer ! )

And I tried many times to regrow a beard, over the past many years, but never could succeed. Too much family pressure and job related challenges guaranteed infant mortality to all my initiatives . Each time, my beard growth strategy survived between 15 days to max of 60 days before it got guillotined by the Gillette !!

You cannot imagine the pressure and the emotional blackmail that I go thru each time. And sadly I do not have a fair, handsome and ‘Raymond Man’ type of personality. So an unshaven cheek makes me look real dukhi (sickly). And sometimes I felt it too!

First week people look at you suspiciously.

Once after a weekend of growth, on a Monday morning, I walk in to the office and my boss thinks I have still not recovered from the TGIF hangover and suggests, “would you like to take the day off, Krish?”.

“No, thanks Ravi, I am trying to grow  a beard”, I answer.

My admin assistant is extra nice. She walks in with a cup of coffee for me and asks, “how are you feeling?” and I reply, “Perfect, Vandana! lets get down to business, shall we?”

At home, after a week of steady growth, my family cannot stand it any more.

After a few polite requests they declare war. The silent treatment, the banters, the sarcastic remarks, ‘ Today is jumma (Friday), aren't you going to the masjid??’, ‘Did you get that call from Dawood?’, and those off handed comments  and many subtle insults get heaped on me.

My grand mom is the worst affected and makes a desperate appeal . Krishna, this is all not right. We are not supposed to keep beard in our family, also we have old people at home and keeping a beard is inauspicious. It signifies a bereavement in our family (on such occasions pious Brahmans do not shave for 10 days until the final shradh).

And visitors and relatives are the worst.

Many even thought that I was recovering from some serious illness and offered sympathetic nod.

They would politely ask, “have your recovered ?” & “would you like to go back and rest”

One uncle from Chennai even ventured to diagnose my illness when  he asked “ Jaandissaaa??” (do you have Jaundice??)

Surviving the first 2 weeks is a challenge and life gets a little better after.

And I hit pay dirt once. This single act made all my miseries worthwhile. (pay dirt = unexpected bonanza, reward)

During one of my morning walks, I took one of the routes that pass by a busy bus stand. As I approached a group of early travelers, I noticed a distinguished looking old man in spotless white kurta, a white flowing beard and wearing an embroidered taqiyah ( Muslim cap ) . And I got nearer, our eyes met and he instantly pronounced “Salam Aleikum”. He had assumed I was one of Allah’s faithfuls too.
Pleasantly surprised, I returned back the greetings,  'As-Salaamu 'Alaykum wa Rahmatullah (Peace and Allâh's Mercy be on you).' and added ‘aapka safr acha guzare’ .

Ad that kept me high for a couple of days.

Until…

I had to make a trip to the US to present the India Initiative Plan to the Senior & Exec VPs.

And I chickened out.

And my Gillette had the last laugh!

The Gillette always wins!!

Krish..

The Mirage 2000H Tragedy

The Crash :

A Mirage 2000H (H for Hindustan) trainer jet crashed at HAL Airport in Bangalore on 1 Feb killing 2 young pilots - Squadron leaders Samir Abrol and Siddharth Negi . 

It was shocking and traumatic, especially for some of us folks in Sobha Palladian who heard the explosion as their  jet burst into flames. And many of us saw the leaping orange flames and the black billowing smoke  that continued to spread across the sky for over 20 minutes. And we saw two huge fire-engines  rush out of the HAL gates , helicopters hovering above and ambulances  screaming past our gates.

I could not sleep properly that night as I could not stop recollecting the days incidents and imagining what those two young pilot would have gone thru during those final moments of the crash.

And  all of the next day, I was sort of depressed and unsettled and sad – as if I had lost one of my dearest friends.

On the day of the crash, my WhatsApp as inundated with messages, photos and commentaries and comments on the crash. The TV and the on line media did their bit of comprehensive reporting. And I went thru them all, feeling sadder. 

The next day the papers covered the incident in more graphic details and quotes from ex servicemen  and the online media had added more footage of the crash. And I read these too and got sadder still.

During  my morning walk I could not enjoy my music and had to shut it off and walk in silence.

And I was in alignment with the  a huge sympathy wave for the two pilots and people expressed their grief and anguish at the sad demise and prayed for their souls and for their family as well. A tragic end to two brave hearts.

And along with this I also read the endless stream of accusations heaped on HAL for their shoddy jobs, their lack of accountability and for being an inefficient and callous organisation that has scant disregard for the air force pilots. And even the Air Chief Marshal B S  Dhanoa said "We have made concessions for HAL, but will the enemy make any concession for us when we face them in battle?"

And every one on the Whats app, Twitter and FB were unanimous!

HAL was the culprit and they passed the judgement –

HAL were solely responsible for this crash and the untimely death of two brave hearts Sqd Leader Abrol and Sqd Leader Negi.

Two days later everything was back to normal. And people went back to sharing and forwarding unwanted messages, pictures and videos &  jokes on their WhatsApp.

And I wondered, is that all ?? 

As self righteous citizens we concluded that have done our bit.

We expressed outrage over the crash.

We praised and prayed for the two dead plots. We used wonderful words , called them heroes & martyrs etc.

We showered sympathy on their families

We identified & pointed out the villain, HAL.

And we accused and passed our collective judgement on HAL !

And after our job well done, we moved on.

And we left the rest of  the inquiry and investigation to the concerned authorities and went about our business as usual.

Ashtey!

And I wondered , is that all ??

To me, even after so many days, life is not as usual.  Every time I walk by the HAL boundary wall  to buy at Capitol hyper-market, or hear the roar of the revving engines and the fighter jets taking off and landing after their sorties, I feel an uneasy sensation in my spine. So what do I do ??

Sadly, I am not a hot shot investigative reporter who could snoop around, talk to people and catch them off guard and dig up the dirt and come up with a front page expose nailing the culprits.

Nor am I a crusader, fighting for justice for the two bereaved families, filing PILs and RTIs and leading dharnas.

So in my limited capacity I went thru all the info available on the net, on the DefenceNews sites on the Mirage2000 deal.

And I actually came up with more questions than answers !!

Whose fault is it anyway ?

25 years ago, I headed the support division of an IT company that manufactured and sold hardware & software products  and delivered hardware devices and software support. And with a fine-tuned spare parts  inventory management and logistics  operation, a remote diagnostics team, and on-site hardware and software specialists we managed to deliver premium services guaranteeing 99% up-time on large computer installations, mainframes, network infrastructure and high end workstations installed country wide.

And I learnt the basics of support delivery and fault diagnosis. We would analyse tons of data on incidents of failure and draw the famous Pareto Charts !

And I concluded that causes for breakdowns can be broadly classified under 3 categories – faulty product, faulty people, faulty processes and a combination of these..

Faulty Product??

  

Was the crash caused due to substandard component/assembly supplied by the OEMs?

Or was it due to these assemblies/components getting worn out much before their rated flying lifetime. Or any other similar reasons related to the aircraft itself (its age and end of life)??

Faulty People?? 

Was the crash caused due to the faulty workmanship by the HAL staff – carelessness or improper training or whatever? Or was it the Pilots’ error??

Faulty Processes?? 

Was the crash caused due to faulty repair and QC and certification processes?? How could the QC team clear this craft for a flight if it had a such a major fault that could lead to a fatal crash? Or how could the HAL’s own test pilots fly  2 sorties in this same aircraft and not be able to detect or predict such a major fault that could lead to a fatal crash??

And remember,

One two-seat trainer crashed on 25 February 2012.

Another two-seater crashed on 5 March 2012.^[38] 

And the people in the Air force and HAL did not learn enough to prevent another similar disaster.

Sadly on 1 February 2019, a third two-seat trainer crashed and killed two pilots. A colossal waste of Rs 300+ Crores and two precious lives!

Act of God??

There are many times when certain incidents just defy logical reasoning.

1 Feb Friday 10.30 AM to 12 noon was Rahukalam!!

Rahukaalam or the period of Rahu is a certain period of time every day that is considered inauspicious for any new venture according to Indian Vedic astrology . – Wiki.

And I am sure any ‘Jyotishi’ (astrologer) worth his salt would be able to backtrack the events, read the horoscopes of the two pilots and match it with the stellar configuration at the time of take off and declare that this had to happen!

And he would have pronounced: It was a bad muhurat for them– a yamagandam. And if the pilots  had  pre-poned their take off by 15 min, the disaster could have been avoided .

So whose fault is it anyway??

The Product: Miarge 2000H:

The Dassault Mirage 2000 is a French multi role, single-engine fourth-generation jet fighter manufactured by Dassault  Aviation. It was designed in the late 1970s as a lightweight fighter to replace the Mirage III for the French Air Force(Armée de l'Air). 

A total of 601 crafts were made during its lifetime production from 1978 to 2007.

India purchased around 50 of these at Rs 133 Crores apiece.

The last 10 were delivered in 2007. 

This was the last batch of  Mirage2000s before the  production line was closed down!

Question: Why would any responsible person  buy such a hi-tech and expensive hardware in its end of life period??

And within 5 years, why would anyone sign up an upgrade deal for these at Rs 167 crores a piece (original cost 133 crores!)?

Chk it out on TOI March 5, 2013  news clip.
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/18804336.cms?utm_source=contentofinterest&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=cppst

More questions later…

Krish..