A HipHop Lunch

Imagine the scenario. A campus teeming with young people with eminently commentable dressing patterns, all from across the country , there to attend a very well known , well entrenched youth festival. Banners and stuff all across campus, making use of the huge density of trees for holding them up. Stalls with soft drinks, all kinds of youth centric companies exhibiting their wares and sponsorships, an exhibition of Harley Davidson bikes, including one with an embedded music system, so to speak, (which you could actually hear above the revving of the engine, but I challenge anyone to listen in the 7 pm traffic rush outside, with 5 cars honking at you...). They even had two real Sumo Wrestlers, who did workouts in the gym, under the supervision of a trainer 1/10th their size. Asha Bhosle, Kavita Sheth, Iktara, the works. Even Medvedev, the President of Russia couldn't keep away, and came with all the associated tough looking security.

Early morning today , saw droves of sleepy eyed young boys and girls lugging and rolling suitcases to the Main Gate, on their way home from the campus, where caution, voices, and other things were thrown to the winds, over 4 days of revelry.

And into this chaos, 2 old ladies decided to meet for the first time.


Two years ago, on Dec 20, 2008, 5 people who were unaware of each others existence , except as residents of Blogger, decided to meet. For a lunch. They had so much fun, they decided to meet again. This happened several times in 2009, at assorted venues, and an anniversary of sorts was celebrated in Dec 2009 , with folks traveling in from Pune and Indore, and a great time was had by all, not to mention some folks trying to swing on the roots of a amazingly tolerant banyan tree.

2010 has been difficult. I know we've had scams, and stuff, lot of running in parliament, and some may even be happening as I write this, but somehow, in keeping with the exceptional situation all over, the 2010 Bloggers lunch didn't seem to be happening.

Some folks were travelling out of Mumbai, some had many weddings to attend , and some were unable to travel into Mumbai from outside.

But one lady travelled a huge distance down from Bihar, (or is it Jharkhand? never mind...) braving Naxalite areas , with no trains moving there at night, and 6-8 hour stops for trains at roadside stations. She was to visit family in Mumbai and she informed the other old lady about it much in advance.

The nice thing was her family lived nearby, and so the two ladies met . This morning, at 11:30 am.

No name cards and stuff was needed. You can tell a fellow blogger from a mile away, and she stood there at the gate while the other lady performed some parking acrobatics in the presence of some overzealous security.

Enthusiastic meetings, visits to home, and family, and the two ladies, set off for some sightseeing . As is traditional, perhaps, unknowingly or by habit, a visit to the local Devi Temple kind of started off the meet. Built around the idol image found underground, and honored by visits of the great late M. S Subbalakshmi and religious gurus, this temple has a very old history No crowds, no hustle and bustle, no priests urging you to "move on", just a quiet temple, with the Goddess quietly observing folks coming to worship her.

A longish drive around campus, seeing the various departments, and the younger blogger from the north, who is also an academic might have found it interesting. She had been on walks on earlier visits since her family lives close to the Institute, but this was possibly the first time she had a fast campus darshan tour.

Our way to lunch, and at one turning , it was either us or a car with a flag and red beacon . (Don't know what it is with ministerial/powerful red beacon cars and me, but during the last lunch here, some army types drove in excitedly in tinted cars , beacons and flags. ) This time it was us out front, with the flag-car behind us. I finally knew what a pilot car feels like. As we sailed into the parking area, I found out who was the Big Visitor, as we were summarily asked to vacate a wonderful parking space and go park under a far away tree. One doesn't argue in front of whistling cops, police jeeps with barricaded windows, and the two old ladies decided to make their way to lunch.

This was, the 3rd blog-lunch at this place. The guy should even give us a discount. But we were a good change for the folks there, from the usual smart , young, twittering and facebooking , casually posh, and poshly ordinary young people, sometimes referred to as dudes and dudettes, normally seen there.

A nice vegetarian lunch was ordered, and enjoyed over lots of chit chat about the state of the world, the state of education, administration offices, young people, their ambitions, whether its a nice idea to shift to Mumbai (it isn't), how some offices we have to deal with are the pits, how matrimonial search techniques are different today than in our time. :-)

There was great concern over knees, and the trouble they cause, Vitamin D3 blood tests (more about that in a forthcoming post), our fun memories of meeting other bloggers. A bit of tsk tsk about young folks today.

And we suddenly realised that the raita we had ordered was not so thick, and there was a lot of it left. Like we don't like to waste stuff we had ordered, and so at the fag end of the meal, we asked for an empty bowl, and half the pineapple raita was "poured" into it, and the two ladies kind of drank the raita in great style, chewing and nibbling on the fresh pineapple titbits.

Of course some photos were taken (not drinking raita), one of the in-charge types, clicked one with both of us.

I too took some. Of people and things. And veggies.

We spent almost 2 hours talking and still could have talked more. This always happens when I meet bloggers that I follow and read. Start off as if we've met before , and there is always so much to talk.

An amazing way to get to know a person, is to read the persons views on a plethora of subjects , through her blog.

The last time I had a one on one meeting with a blogfriend, it was a year and more ago, in Sunnyvale, USA.

The same feeling, the same conclusion.

The two of us get up and leave, weaving our way through tables choc-a -bloc with young people and luggage, having a last bite, before, bidding goodbye to friends.

They, to friends they have recently made, and me to a friend, it feels, that I have always known. She , amazingly says the same , as she gets off at the gate, to cross the road, on her way home.....


The world suddenly seems a nicer place.

All the signs are there.

They even served onions at the lunch table .......

:-))

A gem of a choice.....

Some stand
on the shoulders
of parents,
zeros without them,
convinced
that a fall,
will be cushioned,
by mattresses
stuffed with
papers of certain colors,
obliging officials,
and the
rights of innocents.

And some,
years after
slogging years,
feet firmly on the ground,
eyes willing the ball,
stand tallest
at 5ft 5inches,
as they
swipe,
cut,
flick,
and sweep,
occasionally
in an arc in the sky,
22 x 50 x 100
of them.......

A slight smile,
a deep exhaling
as he removes the helmet
and looks up
into the beyond
seeking
his father,
who showed the way,
but left him
to define his own paths
by hard work,
quiet concentration,
and respect.

At 37,
his fathers child
and a favourite child of the country,
his is not to
sit back and gloat;
he mobilises
to face
a Protean swing
and spin...
eyes sharp,
mind calm
a billion prayers empowering him.

Mothers wish
for a son like him,
Coaches pray
for a student like him
Fathers smile
when they watch him,
children puff up
when they talk about him,
and blades of grass
on the cricket grounds
all over the country
shiver in excitement
as they recall being part of it all....

He stands tallest
as he calls himself
an Indian first,
in the face of
mindless statements
by those with mortgaged minds.

How many
Republic days must go by
before someone
in high places
realizes
that
the
next choice for
Bharat Ratna
is obvious........

The Return of the Fighting Fi(a)t

She was with us for almost 38 years.

And now, after an exemplary service of so many years, that actually coincides with one's retirement, she has taken off, to return to the native place.

She preceded me in this house by two years . For someone accustomed to a lumbering Ambassadors she was pleasurably light, and a delight to manoeuvre.

Her first trip out of state , was to Goa in the winter of 1975. No express highways, and food malls, but she expertly negotiated the narrow 30 degree U turn with 60 degrees gradient in the Khandala Ghats en route from Mumbai to Pune. Onwards via Kolhapur and Belgaum, to Goa, it was an trouble free ride. Goa with some bridgeless rivers then, and she would enjoy the slow ferry ride amidst the smells of diesel and feni, and the subsequent drive through the back roads. Of course, she didn't know we were enamoured of the native red "chira" stone cut from the mountains in Goa, and must have groaned aloud when we insisted on carrying home 4 such stones in the trunk, which caused several eyebrows to rise at the border check post, where they were convinced we were smuggling feni liquor.

Her next trip with us was in the summer of 1977 , almost a South India Darshan , as it were. Driving down the Western ghats, with trips to Bangalore, Mysore, Hubli, Bandipur National Forest, Mudumuali Sanctuary, and Ooty. Then down to Coimbatore in the southern plains. Languages changed several time, milestones , of course kept changing.

A day here and there, and she continued down to Thiruvanantapuram, then called Trivandrum. 3 days, of seeing museums, wonderful textiles, even a movie we didn't understand a word of, because it was in Tamil, and it was time to aim for India's southern tip. Kanyakumari/Cape Comorin, the confluence of the three oceans, and then back up the Coromandel Coast to Pondicherry , then Bangalore, and Hyderabad. The names of have changed now, but had she travelled now, she would have probably recognized the roads.

Several trips, a few years later, down the Maharashtra Coastal back roads, visiting folks in ancestral places, she certainly had her fill of forts, and beaches, areca nut and coconut plantations.

A couple of times, she did go northwest, towards Gujarat. There were some worrisome times, like the time she got stuck in some obnoxious fumes emanating from a collapsed chemical tanker, and the visibility was almost zero for a few kilometres.

Middle age makes your structure porous (ask me , I should know), and some of those fumes came on through the floor , and forced all the people to rush out shouting for help. Several cars banged against her unknowingly in the foggy fumes, and she did sustain grievous injuries. But miraculously, she was helped out by a altruistic lorry driver, who couldn't bear to see the little son of the house desperately in tears over all this and unwilling to abandon her.

She was back home the next day, bloody , banged but unbowed. She had several surgeries after that. But kept indicating the signs of age in the way she would groan when we made her travel fast. The Mumbai monsoons played havoc with her skin, and she had to get it patched and redone. For some years she looked green, and later on a dark blue.

But she would miraculously perform at all important times.

Like coming in from Lonavla in the ghats during torrential rains in the thick of night, because the only daughter of the house , on her regular maika trip to Mumbai (from Delhi) , was to be driven to the train station and going by taxis was not the done thing.


Like the time, she was the official conveyance for a dear neighbor's son's Nikkah (Moslem wedding service). She was to take the young couple back to the boy's house, and gave everyone a fright when she wouldn't budge, for a while. Good sense must have prevailed, because she did get going, and managed to do her wedding duties with great aplomb. Only when she tried to go out the next day, did they find out that she had a problem with her Bendix wheel. Which was to be an Achilles (w)heel of sorts.

Like the niggling bone fractures and muscle pulls that bother me, the Bendix wheel thing was really bothersome for her, and she would get stuck at all kinds of places, like in downtown Mumbai at rush hour, in torrential rain in slush along a lakeside, and sometimes even on an incline next to quarries and stuff with heavy truck traffic. She held her own, and always cooperated with who ever came to help.

Like all folks who go to the beauty parlour, she too, would go in periodically for complexion cleaning and color treatments, not to mention , polishing. But she was getting on in years, and although everyone, right from little children, older folks, ladies in wedding finery, roadside altruistic vendors, rickshawallahs, students walking by, yuppie types with bright white shirts had an opportunity to push her to get her going, over the years, it was clear, that her activity had to be cut down.

In the meanwhile, the world had changed. It was now full of modern weird shapes, noiseless travel (inside), smooth shifts, and sophisticated names. Sometimes she felt out of place when she went out, and folks would give her looks. They would exclaim at the noise she made, and she often suffered impatient honking from others when she appeared to be a bit slow. A few cops even stopped her once demanding to see her papers, and shook their amazed heads when they checked them.

By and by she would rattle and sometimes sneeze. Found it laborious to turn here and there. All that effort would get her all hot under the carburettor collar, and she would stop in some quiet place, relax, and cool down before starting out again.

Its been 38 years. For our old Fiat car. The Premier Padmini.

It was basically home bound the last year. Driven just to keep the battery heart ticking. Many folks asked about buying it. It commanded so little a price, that two wheelers cost more. But selling was something we could not think of. Very often such cars are consigned to lives as taxis. The black and yellow ones. And she wouldn't be one of those.....

And so when we heard of an institute in our native Kokan region, that trained fellows in automobile repairs , so that they could start their own 'combined enterprise in an area now teeming with interstate highways and traffic, an idea took seed.

They needed a car(s) for the students to learn on. Something they could take apart and put back again. The best way to learn. In today's fancy car universe, you replaced entire units, and not individual parts. Much like a doctor functioning only with machines and scans, and forgetting to listen to the pulse, examine the tongue, and the swelling on the feet etc etc.

And that's where she would go. Willingly and happily donated by us. With best wishes from us.

There were lots of checkups, temporary support strategies, a small bit of cosmetic stuff.

The new car , parked alongside, would observe the going-ons with great interest. The newer cars were all about quantity , in features, in cost, in add-ons and many things. The older days were all about long lasting quality, never-say-die, and loyalty.

I have always wondered why one doesn't see cars being pushed these days on the roads. For one thing , the newer shapes are un-push-worthy, and utility-for-pushing has been sacrificed at the alter of fashion and modernity. Fiats , the old ones , that is, are ideally configured for pushing. Ergonomical pushing.

This morning the papers were checked, filed, and the gas tank filled in Mumbai for the last time.

The minister in Delhi, spoilsport in these Leaky days, even managed to hike the price of gas a day before, to make her feel really rich, I suppose.

Typically , she wouldn't start. And so they pushed her. Her family, running behind, hands on her back, for the last time, and her new host, at the wheel, feet on the clutch, and the car in gear. He would release the clutch at some point, she would cough up and start.

The third time it worked, and she took off, to a new life in a new land.


Like a senior citizen, who enjoys teaching children in his old age, she would help train young folks in the vocational, hands-on automobile repair course.

And like retired folks, who return back to their native place , in their old age, she has now gone back.

Last heard, she was 25% of the way there, chugging along, making the long-ago trip, once again .

Back to the area from where my ancestors came.

Dedicating her last years, in the midst of youth, greenery, mountains, green valleys, teaching them , how folks like her are the way they are. .....

Rich me, poor me.....

A friend posted this on FB.

A site with the amazing name of 99labels.com has compiled a list of must-have fashion items for men and women . And they then ask you to indicate what you have and what you don't have , or are dying to acquire or whatever.....

My already open mouth kept getting bigger and bigger (along with the eyes), while the brain gets into a fast reverse mode. I don't even know some of the things.

Till a few years ago, a single pair of chappals was just fine; sturdy enough for daily skirmishes to get a foothold on the steps of the Mumbai buses, and beautiful enough to wear on "occasions". Fashion magazines were what you saw at an upmarket dentist's before he delved deep into the recesses of your mouth, and you ignored all those women shown wearing sarees the wrong way, mostly in what was considered a shameless manner.

The list kind of puts me in my place, socially.

Here is my take on the stuff.

For Women

1. Little Black Dress : Never had one. Little would be a misnomer.

2. Black Flats : But I've always worn flat black chappals or sandals. No heels, mostly out of consideration for other folks, possibly walking alongside. Teetering on heels is not considered smart.

3. Gold Hoop Earrings : The last time I wore them was in class VI. At that time they were not called hoops, but rings. I lost one that year carelessly, and then the earring variety changed in class VII. I now wear them as bangles.

4. Mac Waterproof Mascara : Not that I swim with full make up, but I wear glasses, which actually have a hidden benefit. People on the other side (in front) see my eyelashes automatically bigger due to the lens curvature.

5. A Black Clutch : I don't understand this fuss. Why a clutch ? Why not a decent shoulder purse? And why make a fuss about "hands-free" phones and stuff, when you ignore "hands-free" shoulder-hanging purses ? We always use a clutch when we go buying vegetables, so that we have one less bag to carry, and its easy to use it frequently at the various fruit and veggie stalls. And you can always stuff it amidst the beans and tomatoes.

6. Sling Bag : This is my eternal fashion statement. I have tons of these, in various sizes, and once even lugged a chutney stone by train , from Pune to Mumbai in one such bag, to the amazement and delight of the ladies in the second class ladies compartment of the Deccan Queen Express....

7. Gucci /Hermes-Berkin/Chanel/Prada Bag : Are these the guys who have been copying Linking Rd stuff and selling it in air conditioned shops, with uniformed security, and heavily accented two dimensional sales women ?

8. Light-Colored Cotton Saree : Is this anything to ask ? This is like asking if I have potatoes in the house. Just for the record, I have several. Sarees as well as potatoes.

9. Summer Scarf : In my childhood, this always meant something tightly wrapped around your hair and ears, when you cycled for early morning 6 am PE classes in college. But mostly in winter. While I can see , why someone tearing through Pune's two wheeler infested polluted traffic on a hot day might need one, I've realized today, that loosely throwing one or tying it fancily around your neck, for no particular reason , probably classifies you as smart.

10. Bright Colored Umbrella : We never match our umbrellas to our clothes. Tough and sturdy black umbrellas that fold once, are the ultimate fashion statement , amenable for use as protection from rain, and occasionally as a weapon, in Mumbai. Colored, beautiful umbrellas are OK, but have been known to be stolen from dripping buckets, kept outside Xerox shops, when you go in to get some important work done.

11. A Red/Purple/Blue Handbag - Why not orange and green ? Be patriotic, folks.

12. Over-Sized T-Shirt : Actually , 40 years ago, we started this fashion, when extremely tight fitting tees were considered hurtful to their eyes, by the elders. And we , naturally obeyed. Today this is being abused by folks wearing undersized tees and showing bare midriffs.

13. Pencil Skirt : What an amazing name for a short saree petticoat !

14. Black Crepe/Georgette Saree : I don't know about the "black", but I have an old one that goes under the name of "Binny's Georgette", which was avidly aspired for 30 years ago, and bought on some special occasion. Currently faced with the danger of being recycled into a kurta.

15. Louboutin Shoes/High Heels : Suffice it to say, I don't move in high circles, Louboutin or otherwise. I am so very down to earth, sometimes I even sink.

16. Le Smoking Jacket/Suit By YSL : Please. I don't smoke. Even if I did, I wouldn't need a jacket for that; shirts on which ashes fall can always be washed in Surf Ultra/Ariel.... And no suits, YSL or Raymonds or whatever, .....

17. Trench-Coat : NO. NO. NO. We have enough trenches dug on the road outside. Wearing a coat to fall inside them is a totally bad idea. Besides sweating buckets in the trench, you wont be able to climb out , using the girders.

18. Crisp White Cotton Button-Down Blouse/Shirt : Contrary to what folks at 99 labels say, my mother and mother-in-law actually had a monopoly on that , and it almost became a fashion statement since you wore it on just about any Kanjevaram silk saree, with a great disdain for "matching" . While shirts are not my kind of style, crisp white cotton kurtas may be seen in my part of the cupboard......

19. Solid Wash Jeans : While I haven't worn some for quite a few years, I must emphasize that they were always solidly washed. It surprises me that people don't wash their jeans, and they finally develop slits and tears, which are then flashed as fashion by shameless girls and aging heroes who should know better.

20. Leather Jacket : Are you mad ? Decent, God-fearing, law abiding ladies driving 38 year old Fiat cars, don't need leather jackets.

21. Pair Of Black Pumps : In my time, these were installed in gardens , and water gushed out of them. Maybe some can wear it in the Mumbai monsoon, and enjoy the water that will gush out as they walk. I have nothing more to say about this totally unnecessary footwear..

22. Knee-Length Boots : I give up. You will never understand the need to scratch the feet, and remove footwear so many times a day, when you visit folks, temples , kitchens etc. If all you do is oscillate in discos, then I can understand the need to have a weighted base.

23. Silver Earrings/Baalis : These are pretty, and always so delicate. I like to see them on younger folks, who carry them so well. But I am from the old-is-gold generation.

24. Leather Gloves : See item no 20. And no, I don't garden. because there isn't one.

25. Sexy Black/Red Stilettos : I always thought stilettos were weapons. Umbrellas are so much better. Besides, I challenge anyone to notice and describe my footwear in a general crowd. My one-of-a-kind chappals stand tall.

26. Turquoise Stone Bangles : I do have an antique one, from my late mother, which also has some other shades.

27. Ipod : Personally , no. Though the children always have one of these stuck in their years, to avoid hearing when I call....:-)

28. Platform Shoes : No. God has given me such a wonderful natural platform, I don't need these shoes. Then there is always the nearest suburban train station, and I am hoping they soon have the new Metro station near us...

29. Sexy Swimsuit : Hanging on to sides of the pool, drinking stuff, making eyes at similarly behaving men, and being photographed at stretching angles necessitates this item. One swims, but in decent Speedos (conservative cut), and once in the water, no one knows what style you wear. And one must have consideration for what other folks see. Cant inflict shocking visuals .

30. Toe Ring : This isn't fashion, it is tradition. Next question.

31. Tattoo : No. My obsessions are in my head.

32. Black Tank-Top : It occurs to me that sometimes a shorter version may pass off as a saree blouse, but haven't tried that as yet.

33. Hot-Pants : Hot or cold, an emphatic NO.

34. Kajal : Of course . Since childhood, Though folks keep saying it doesn't suit light typical Chitpavan hazel eyes.....

35. Banarsee/Kanjivaram Saree : Now you are asking ! Finally , something I love. I have many.

36. Beach Sarong - I think you got my name spelling wrong. And forget the beach.

37. Oversized Sunglasses : No. An oversize person must economize with photo sensitive prescription glasses of normal style.

38. White Salwar Kameez : Again, now you are asking ....yes of course...

39. An Evening Gown : You mean a night one ?

40. Classic Leather Belt : Belts imply waists . I think they are , in my case, also a waste.

41. Lingerie By Victoria'S Secret : You mean so many years after the East India Company, they still haven't figured out her Secret ?

42. Summer-Hat : A few of these. Some saying Indusladies, some saying Cricket India, and one panama style cap. There used to be a wide brim straw hat, but someone stepped on it in the rush once.

43. Chanel/Hugo Boss/Dior/Ysl Perfume : I have some stuff from Bath and Body Works. I don't really go for those mentioned here....

44. Silk Stockings : Pointless.

45. Iphone : All you grammatically challenged folks, it's My Phone. And mine is a basic Nokia. And it is just fine.

46. Kundan Choker - I have an heirloom thing from my late mother. Could be classified as Kundan, I don't know. It doesn't matter, too.

47. Pearl Necklace : Yes of course. In various traditional styles.

48. Faux-Fur Outerwear : Are you serious ?

49. Halterneck Dress/Halter Top : Contrary to what you think, I have sufficient blouse material.

50. Body-Piercing : We stop at ears. Might go as low as nose. No further.

51. Silver /Junk Anklet/Bracelet/Armlet : I don't wear these, but the daughter maintains a collection which I admire from a distance.

52. Clinique Set : Yeh kya hai ? Isn't besan and ambe-haldi the thing ?

53. Churidaar Kameez : the cupboard is full ....

54. Platinum Band/Ring : Like I said, old is gold. Or should I say Gold is old ?

55. Bracelet Watch : I have a wonderful one, belonging to my late mother, which is like 60 years old. and Swiss. I keep it in a box and admire it since it doesn't go around the wrist anymore....:-(

(fatigued from explaining....)

.....I've just realized that I am probably likely to be classified as Poverty Stricken, by these 99label folks.

Its OK.

It is so much more fun being rich in ideas ...:-)

Aiyyo ! What a life changing device !...

Submitted for the Life Changing Device contest at Blogadda.

Technology has evolved magnificently in all the years that I have had the pleasure of inhabiting the earth, and as the years advance, it becomes fairly mind boggling to select that one technology device that has changed my life or impacted me the most.

It must be something I still use. I should have bought it, or if it was gifted to me (which in my case it was) , I probably spend a lot of effort upgrading it. It shouldn't take an engineering degree to figure out how it works, and it should be very user friendly, so much so that I should be fairly oblivious to how the back end technology functions, and deal only with a menu shown to me.

As a citizen with a social conscience, I would of course like technology which is classified as "green", something that can recycle, and reuse, things. Unlike contraptions that use noise to make you aware of their presence, this should really be a silent worker. And most of all, whenever it malfunctions , I don't want to be without it, cribbing to the maintenance types about a replacement(which they always refuse). It should have self correction technology embedded .

A tall order ? Nah....

Lets just say some folks gifted me this several years ago. Decades , to be precise. We didn't have malls and places advertising these things then, and there was obviously no buy-one-get-one-free; but I did hear someone say, that the system improved with busy usage. And it has been a key product in my life which has simplified things.

Just weighs 1.5 kilos. Has two screens, and 5 other USB ports, with universal connection capabilities regardless of the number of pins in the connector. I started with the version 0.0 as it was called then, and have been able to upgrade several versions since then, without any download problems as such, or visits to dealers.

Unlike Windows and Linux which have versions, and operate nicely in their own domains , my device has both systems, and some more working simultaneously, as it has been trained to seek the best of all that is on offer in the e-world. With apologies to Babbage et al, I must say, that this device does not depend on just the binary behaviors in the world.

There is more to life than just Yes and No, more like the delicate uncertainty of a tentative Maybe. It has a range of operations in between.

So how has it changed my life ?

Even before the concept and inventor of Google Maps was born, my favourite device had this feature installed. I mean, maps of so many places, of different scales too.

Way before everyone went ballistic about the Web, I realized that my system had delicate, minimal, and hypersensitive connections internally, which could respond instantly to outside events.

It had a lamp, and a lens for capturing images. (No you know where the web cam types learnt their stuff).

Amazingly it even had a mirror system to allow it to see things as others were seeing it, as well as see other things and oneself, from various angles.

It came with a self updating tool box installed, and unlike today's e-companies that thrive on stealing ideas and taking each other to court, this technology had a built in sharing mechanism, that allowed its findings to be shared with others , near and far.

I mean, unlike today's hard disks getting full and one having to get a larger hard disk, my device simply manufactured its own extra memory.

Of course, some guys studied this device and came up with the system of linking of river canals in India. But then it's so difficult to implement the fantastic tree structure of the connections inside this device. Like the Brahmaputra, some of these tree branches change size and direction in response to things like stresses, , but unlike the river, it is always done in the overall good, and not in a hurtful and destructive sense.

Much like our corrupt ministers this device can also control movements outside itself , but unlike our corrupt ministers, it benefits nothing from all this.

Occasionally, like all devices, it threatens to malfunction, but unlike other devices, I have never had to shut it off or reboot it. So far at least. Of course, the great thing is most of its repairs can be done while it is working, possibly in single user mode, with real time diagnostic responses.

And I must say, that it is the only device I know that energises itself in standby mode. Every single day.

Like so many things that we own, this also functions on the premise "Use it or Lose it.".

And whats more, at the end of its life and utility, it causes no mountains of e-waste; coming as I do , from a generation to whom doodhi halwa was incomplete unless you used the doodhi peels to make chutney, this is so appealing !

Where do you get this ? I don't really know, because I got this as a gift from my parents 60 years ago, and it only gets better and better.

You really need to admire their choice :-)

What is it ? I guess it can now be revealed.

Popularly referred to as Bheja version 0.0.

Otherwise called

脑 , मस्तिष्क, Utak, Cerveau, Hjerne, Gehirn, εγκεφάλου, מוח , Inchinn, Cervello, мозокот, Cerebro, Otak, мозг, Ubongo, Beyin, Não, Ymennydd or Brain ,

depending on whether you are

Chinese, North Indian, Philipino, French, Danish, German, Greek, Hebrew, Irish, Italian, Macedonian, Portuguese, Malay, Russian, Swahili, Turkish, Vietnamese, Welsh ......or me,

respectively.

My little brain, sitting in convoluted grey splendour , covered in crowning glory, very much at the top, protected by greying protein strands ( once black) flowing down to my shoulders in respectful curls.

Using a biotechnology, which has not yet been replicated in its entirety, anywhere...

I couldn't have done without this device.

Ever.

Come to think about it, neither could have all the fellows , like Bill Gates, Linus Torvalds , Wikileaks founder Julian Assange, Nira Radia, Barack Obama, John Lennon, Barkha Dutt, Lata Mangeshkar, Ratan Tata, Azim Premji, the corner grocer, the bus conductor, the guy who fills the road potholes, (though I do have some doubts about folks building 27 story houses for 5 people....never mind) and the list goes on and on.

I need to check on my extended memory to get you all the details.....

In the meanwhile, all I can say is .......Intel,AMD, et al, eat your heart out...... your motherboards come nowhere near mine.



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Aai, what is an MP ?

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Remember the time in school when the class erupted into a unstoppable talkathon, and threatened to degenerate into a loud crescendo, till the teacher unexpectedly made an appearance, rapped the duster loudly on the desk, and the noise suddenly exponentially died down, as the realization dawned , that an authority that punishes existed ?

Remember the time, when you kept sulking for something, being unreasonable about things, throwing your books and stuff around, and all it took is a look and a call from your father to bring you back in line ?

Remember the time when it was raining, you were in a bus in Mumbai, packed to the gills, when a fellow started haranguing another about a dripping umbrella, voices rising, everyone talking away, and how the conductor loudly banged his punching machine, and shouted at everyone to pipe down if the driver was to preserve his sanity and make his way through the waterlogged roads, reflecting headlights in his eyes ?

Something is terribly wrong in the way our legislatures are set up. If you asked a child what an MP does, you will probably some or all of these answers :

1. He comes with folded hands during elections. After which his car gets an upgrade, he walk around with 4 police for protection, and has a flunky who carries the heavy load i e, his cellphone.

2. His face is seen on banners during all religious festivals and Sonia Gandhi's, Mayawati's, Balasaheb Thakre's , Raj Thakrey's and Sharad Pawar's birthdays, and these banners always block the traffic signal.

3. He is seen walking behind some great person, carrying some typed sheets, always on the steps of Parliament house, and smiling (as if he is privy to the inside stories with the minister) , regardless of whether the stuff being discussed on TV pertains to him or not.

4. He sits on one of the Parliament benches, either feeling sleepy, thumping the desk, or looking bored.

5. Once in a while, he sprints to the well of the House, and rushes menacingly towards the speaker with his friends, shouting slogans. I wonder what the poor clerks in the well transcibe . ("Your Honor", bang, "I wish to present, ", shove shove, push,throw,bang,step on crush! , etc etc)

6. Occasionally, he is seen walking , in sedate senior baraat style, along with other MP folks, in protest against something or the other, outside the Parliament building, but within the grounds.

16 days of doing this now, 16 days when the Speaker has managed to exhibit an unchanged smiling countenance, 16 days when the treasury benches and their leaders sit stoically in their seats , while chaos reigns all around, and daily around 1 pm, when I watch the news, they keep reporting that Parliament is adjourned, with no work accomplished.

At 15 days, we were supposed to have wasted 95 crores allowing all this to happen. This might even continue for many days more, while everyone worth their loyalty quotient, their election deposit, their white khadi, and their ability to kowtow to supreme political beings , holds on to their chairs for dear life.

This has to be the biggest scam being perpetrated (how I love that word) , on the citizens of this country.

Bring in a bill to upgrade members salaries, and the JPC will fly out of the window, standing committees will be lying down, and the speaker will breathe a quick sigh of relief amidst all that non stop smiling, as the members fall over each other getting there to vote in a working session. .

Invite a photographer to capture the member images on a grand photo taken in the hallowed premises, folks sitting and standing left to right, top to bottom, and you will see everyone ensuring that at least 20% of their self is visible. For the record. Not to show your grandchildren, but to intimidate folks, who refuse to meet your empty hand beneath the grand table.

Can we afford such scams ?

How long must we tolerate dereliction of duties by the MP's who get so many benefits and subsidies, free travel, meals, laptops, telephone calls, and the likes, while all through the year, normal citizens are treated guilty until proven innocent, and made to show up with various ID proofs, in post offices, banks, schools, airports, ration shops, election centres, transport offices, and pay through their noses for vegetables, petrol, cooking gas, health care, communication and security, while the government goes into a wild celebration of a 0.05% rise in the rate of growth of GDP or whatever and shakes a prohibitive finger at what it calls hounding of the corporates ??

Are there no law worthies and constitution minders, who can bring in a bill to say, that anytime Parliament has a logjam like this, say beyond a week, it will be mandatory to recall all MP's across all parties and announce a new election? And the deposit payable by the sitting MP's would be double that of fresh candidates ?


Why isn't anyone trying to do anything about this. ? And what is a logjam ? Is it a stoppage of floating logs , due to their senseless, Brownian movement in a river, or is it a wasteful collection of "log(e)s, contributing to a jam, given their highly sweetened overflowing pockets ? "..........

It just occurred to me that bringing in a Bill as described above, would get all the MP's back into the chamber, so that they can in righteous indignation, vote , probably , a solid
NO.

Should someone suddenly cheat and introduce something about JPC /Raja /CWG instead, you can rest assured, someone will hold someone in contempt of whatever, or pass , a privilege motion thing or similar stuff.

Its OK.

Actually, its not OK. At all.

But what can you say, when the Nation's Central Vigilance Commissioner himself is being kept under a vigil ?

Hey Ram.

(And no Jairam, I don't think you can do anything here......)

A Book for all seasons ....of life !

(Submitted for the My oldest Book and its memories Contest .... at Blogadda)

I don't have to climb and search shelves to find that book. It has made its own special shelf in the library of my mind. And while stuff in the real world is subject to wild handlings and insect attacks, not to mention folks who borrow it and never show their face again, this one sits, fresh as ever, lighting up a corner of my mind.



"Pu. La. Deshpande : ek Saathwan " edited by Jaywant Dalvi. I assume folks understand that this would be in Marathi. An amazing compilation of the works of Pu La, by another wonderful younger but well known author.....

Pu La. as he was affectionately referred to by the masses of Maharashtra, was a person who belonged to the same strata of society as we all did. At least that what's everyone who read him believed. Sometime in my teenage years, I started reading his serialized articles on his Europe and America trip, in one of the leading Marathi magazines. (I still chuckle over them) . Humor was his forte, but so was his knowledge of classical music, and its great personas. He made movies, excelled at the harmonium, revered the great musician artists, adored Tagore, wrote plays, performed amazing one man shows, and they were always about real people, like us. We were always on the lookout for his newer books .

And then sometime in 1979-80, I remember a book being published on his 60th birthday, the above mentioned book. A neat play on the word "SaaTh" साठ which means sixty in Marathi, and the word "SaathwaN" साठवण which means "a collection or live archive." साठवण also means stuff organized for storage and expected to last a long time . Particulary common, in the summers of life , of those whose lives are spent in kitchens....

Certain Marathi publishers (Majestic Book Stall) were like institutions themselves, considered it a great honor to be involved in producing a commemorative book like this, and so we purchased then , for the impressive sum of Rs 25/- only, a specially priced edition of this book. I was just getting set in my job, the house was being set up bit by bit, the family was growing; books hadn't suddenly been priced out of the common man's reach then, and this was a purchase, greatly looked forward to.

I actually went to an English school where the school library had typical English books read by school girls, many classics , and the like. But we lived in a part of Pune which was rich history by itself. My parents actually had an instructor who came in to teach us Sanskrit shlokas and Marathi calligraphy with a reed pen. "Shuddhalekhan" शुद्धलेखन (writing text passages for practice) daily in Marathi was a big thing, regardless of what language your school taught. One of the greatest Marathi novelists was a neighbor and his daughter was my best friend . And so one grew up amidst the excitement of Marathi literature happenings so to speak.

Pu La never really wrote about fantasy. He wrote about "characters; he wrote about situations that we see everyday; thrived on describing situations with middle class ethos, while being a part of it; his observation of personalities was a wonderful mixture of indulgent external trivialities with a solid internal kernel, and made you look for such folks around you.

Who could forget his first description of arriving in London , a first trip by air out of India? Peopleless roads at a cold 9 am, no conversations happening in the bus from the airport, a typical drizzle in progress, shops closed , no crowds hanging around at corners, or loudspeakers announcing unimportant stuff importantly. He wondered if there had been an inauspicious event, say, in the royal family.

He turns, clears his throat and asks his wife quietly in Marathi , "Why is everything so silent?" and gets rewarded by the immediate stares of a few Englishmen in the bus, as if reacting to a loud noise....... (I had similar questions when I first went to the US to study and saw empty roads , many cars, and asked the immortal question , " Where have all the people gone ?" ....). His crackling narration of the British proclivity for discussing the weather, digging in the gardens, and their dogs. His amazement that nobody takes off surreptitiously with milk bottles left outside houses, and his pithy comment on the difference on how Europeans and British spend Sunday mornings ...

His description of a character in Ratnagiri, in Maharashtra's Kokan area , while on a visit to his in-law's place. An old man, a complete institution by himself, Antu Barwa, steeped in the ethos of old folks grown up the hard way, providing you windows and doors into a culture. A personality , as he describes it, studded with properties of the tough red "chira" mountain stone used in houses, rough edged, soft innards blessed jack fruits , tough coconut resilience, and scratchy concerns of colllocassia leaves.

The name Antu (somewhat an abridged thing from the original Ananta) was misleading for a man who sported white hair everywhere, an almost toothless jaw, a firm loyalty to a khadi half lungi wrapped around his middle, a massively repaired, creaking old chappal, and an opinion from everything from why the British left India, levels of corruption, motivations of various freedom fighters, how a son-in-law should conduct himself, and a huge pride in his native town which made him summarily dismiss Shimla , but espouse sleeping in the Coconut and areca nut plantation-shades, as akin to natural airconditioning......

His great proprietary pride during the author's last visit prior to a maiden foreign trip, and the tough old man nodding his head approvingly on learning that the wife would be going along too, saying ," let me tell you a secret; I lost her (my wife) forty years ago, and the mango trees, with earlier harvests of hundreds , have not blossomed after that, till today; you never know which way fate works. But go well, and travel safely ...." and then as an after thought , " Do one thing for me, please. Have a look at the Kohinoor diamond for me , and come back and tell me. If I die , and the subsequent religious events/customs imply unfulfilled wishes, just stand there and say "Kohinoor, Kohinoor," and everything will be fine . Don't forget to see Paris too... "

And he finally appears , at 5 am at the local bus stand, and calls out and rushes in with a small paper packet , containing the vibhuti of the local deity. "For your protection". Waves goodbye, standing with the author's extended family, and quietly lifts his old traditional shirt to wipe his old sunken eyes. His more than flat concavity of the abdomen, pulls at the author's heartstrings.

There are other vignettes of someone who can only be described as the King of all Man-Fridays, where weddings are concerned, "Narayan"; and a completely urban centric, western mindset hinting personality that haunts you with its story, Nanda Pradhan. Travelogues in Japan, Bali, France, the US, with pithy self depreciating very observant comments.

Gods , in Pu La's books are very human. The inside cover leaf of this book, has a couplet he found at, and included, on a write up of a Panwala , that would possibly have made Lord Krishna smile :

कृष्ण चालले वैकुन्ठाला , राधा विनवी पकडून बाही ,
इथे तमाखू खाउनी घे रे , तिथे कन्हैय्या तमाखू नाही .....

(Lord Krishna , is on his way to Vaikunth (the abode of Vishnu), and Radha tugs at his sleeve , and implores him , " Have your fill of tobacco here , dear, 'cause there aint any tobacco at Vaikunth...." )

So many brilliant portraits of so many "ordinary" personalities, all with their good and bad quirks, descriptions of situations , localities, and the sociological pictures of bygone days. Spell binding travelogues of trips to so many countries. Stories of meeting great people.

Every time I pull out this book to read , I appreciate something new. As a young girl, and then someone starting a household, I laughed at different things. As someone slowly about to traverse a senior peak, there is an element of looking back and enjoying a nostalgic evening as one closes the book, smiling away, albeit with full eyes.


This book has so many heart rending, chuckle producing, guffaw inducing, head nodding descriptions of life. Like a beautiful outfit , with that significant little tear in a crucial place; a joyful dress with a frill of sadness. Gives a new meaning to the phrase "laugh till you cry".......

Way up in a cupboard, in my in-law's house, are some very old books. Some ancient Marathi classics, some very popular authors. Carefully covered in brown paper, sitting cheek by jowl with some books in praise of various deities, with the associated prayers and religious verses. For those born at beginning of the 20th century, education was a great privilege, particularly if you were a female. And so classics and books were very carefully and lovingly preserved, and read often.

Somewhere , in a shelf, long after I am gone, I hope this book remains, possibly dogeared, but proudly sitting. Despite the e-fication and miniaturization of everything, I hope someone pushes that laptop aside, removes those buds from the ears, and sits in an armchair with this great book, on a monsoon evening, with a nice cup of tea, and gets lost in the wonderful word , that I have been fortunate to enjoy.

Times have changed. The author is no more, after a lifetime dedicated to making people happy , with words , music, and something that few only may know : a dedication to helping those trying to emerge from drug and alcohol addiction, something for which he and his wife made immense financial and artistic contributions. Pu La wrote about and appreciated literature in other languages, was a Sahitya Academy awardee, and honored as a director of the NCPA in Mumbai ....

This book lives for me. I never tire of pulling it out and reading something from it. It lights up the sort of society I grew up in. It sometimes reminds me of my grandparents, sometimes my parents, and sometimes I am steeped in the entire ethos of the bygone days, when the printed word was supreme, and there was no DEL key.

My children, who never really had read him, but have seen us chuckle and crack up, watch his performances again and again on DVD's that are now available.

Their laptop hard disks, containing these mega collections, don't feel the weight at all ; thanks to the incredible lightness of being the brilliant performances of an unforgettable Pu La.

Truly a Sathwan साठवण !


Edited to add : So many have asked if there are English translations. Those wishing to read a wonderful translation of "Chitale Master ( चितळे मास्तर )" , from the award winning book "Vyakti ani Valli (व्यक्ती आणि वल्ली )" which won the Sahitya Academy Award, may read http://gauravsabnis.blogspot.com/2006/10/chitale-master-by-p-l-pu-la-deshpande.html



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Thinning Bones and thick heads...

The country and I belong to the same generation. Folks in their sizzling sixties. Been there , done that, kind of people. And so I am always looking out for similarities on what occurs in my life as well as in the country's , and try to ascertain recognizable patterns.

One of the things that one has undergone in the last year or so, is complete onslaught on the Bone system of the body, and its connective stuff.

Which would really surprise you if you knew, that ever since I was born, assorted folks who came by to hold and coo to me as a baby, were known to have remarked on how heavy I was. Later in school, the PT teacher who supervised our physicals, would check my weight twice, because it didn't fit in , and was high, compared with my normal build and agility in sports then.

Many years later, in my fifties, a friend who was a well respected scientist and researcher involved in doing some research on bone densities of urban Indian women announced that she was looking for cases to check bone densities and do followups and so on, and she had a big laugh when I offered myself as a candidate.


My sole interest was a free bone density test . Her sole interest was helping those with low bone densities .

And so it goes without saying that I kind of sailed into my sixties, dense in bone as well as , as it turned out, thinking.

Its very fashionable these days to be aware of menopause. While its fashionable to talk about wrinkles, cranky/cribbing/anxious behaviour, and estrogen making a graceful withdrawal causing hot flushes or whatever, what caught my attention was this business of thinning bones.

I thought I had such a built in advantage, that thinning would never be a part of my skeletal life.

Life has a way of teaching you. And the Internet has a way of explaining things to you.

In the last 2 years, most of my bones /ligaments etc , barring the skull, pelvis, and the big limb bones , have started showing their evil side.

It started with the left little toe which fractured itself banging somewhere, followed by the right little toe a fortnight later in the US of A. Then a few months later, the left shoulder (resulted in an MRI blog post), cervical vertebra (neck level), then the lower back (another post), then the right shoulder (resulting in a sling and another blog post ), again the lower back (and a philosophical post).


The latest is another small toe fracture, which has ended up cracking up some other support structures, and the entire thing is now bound firmly for 3 weeks, making it impossible to limp across the newly widened arterial road outside in the allocated time while shopping for veggies and stuff. Skates as an idea was rejected firmly by some folks, who were concerned about creating potholes on the new road , if I fell.

Turns out that our blood always contains some "mediators" called chemokines or chemoattractants. These things arrange for various signals and stuff, which tell various receptors to go sit in various tissues of the body, like our bones.

The same blood also contains cells that help bone regeneration (osteoblasts), and cells that destroy bone (osteoclasts). Typically, the osteoclasts are yet immature, but are "recruited" by these chemokines, and made to go sit on the bone tissue and mature. After maturity, they start chipping away at your bones, thinning them.

This has an amazing parallel with immature , easily impressionable folks with evil intentions lurking in our society, and they being recruited by appointed messenger types steeped in politics, corruption and violence. The messenger types get these types well established somewhere where they do their destruction work.

You see, as a young girl, these things were not so prevalent in the society around me. Quite simply, the percentage of folks who worried about scruples was fairly large . You trusted people to behave in a certain way. The majority of folks had similar ethical and moral standards, regardless of their economic situation in life.

Like me, the country is now in the 60's and suffering from violence flashes, thinning of its august institutions, where assorted unscrupulous and shameless messenger types have installed , what can only be called "People-clasts", or folks who can be bought for a price.

A national menopause.


Right from the ticket counter clerk at the railway reservation window, to the so called peoples' leaders, , everyone has become a "peopleclast ", eating away at the fabric of the country's life. We have more and more accidents thanks to blind eyes being turned to things, more lives destroyed, more wastage , wild consumption and so on.

It turns out that Ronald Germain, M.D., Ph.D., at the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID), National Institutes of Health. and Masaru Ishii, M.D., Ph.D., a Visiting Fellow from Japan, have researched this .

They homed in on a blood messenger called S1P, which was the instigator of the recruitment of immature osteoclasts. And they did experiments to show that if you had receptor cells on your bones that recognized this blood messenger S1P , then you could blindly draw away into the blood, those immature osteoclasts accumulating at your bones, and save the bones, from future destruction.

They ,of course, did experiments with live mice, and using a unique imaging technique, the researchers could see immature osteoclasts migrating away from the bones of the mice in response to S1P in the blood. Mice with functional S1P receptors had denser bones than mice lacking functional S1P receptors.

We need similar S1P types in society. To give hope, to the misguided young and old destroyers, of decent society. The above experimenters even tested a synthetic version of the S1P and found it worked.

Maybe at an age of 63, it is not too late for us as a country, to come up with some inspired well trained S1P's to build up the confidence and good standards in the way we function in this country, and stop our great institutions from being eaten away by the corrupt people-clasts.

But the real puzzle comes later.

The researchers say that they tested a mouse model of postmenopausal osteoporosis (thinning of the bones), to see if adding a synthetic S1P activator, could help preserve bone. Postmenopausal mice who were given that, had fewer immature osteoclasts on their bones and greater bone density when compared with untreated postmenopausal mice.


I know why my bones are behaving the way they do in my menopausal age.

I realize how physiology can teach so much to us as a menopausal nation. And that we need to look for S1P's of our own to change. Be the change we want to be.....

But Yikes ! I didn't realize the mice could have menopause ............

Bigg Boss in the service of the Nation

It has occurred to me, an ordinary commoner, disgusted with the handling of corruption in the country, that some innovative solutions need to be looked at. And not all of the solutions, can be found in things like retired justices of Supreme Courts/High Courts, Joint Parliamentary Committees, Interlocutors etc etc.

It has also occurred to me, a stupid commoner, that the best way to nab a corrupt person, is to set another person with corrupt tendencies to catch him/her. Which should make for a very very interesting show given the rules.

The thing to do is to announce a special Bigg Boss season immediately. The rules of the Bigg Boss show allow a special house with many rooms to sit around and yak away, but just very few bedrooms and bathrooms. The rule says you must speak in Hindi, which throws up very interesting possibilities of candidate selection. Since you are not allowed to leave for any reason, and maintain outside contact, this will be more secure than those who sit in various different custodies of the law , police,judicial etc etc. And the best part, is that someone like the High Command, hitherto called the Bigg Boss, appears only as a voice that does individual interviews , asks for opinions , and finally issues its own edicts about who to throw out.

Main contenders for entry into the house would be Suresh Kalmadi, Sheila Dikshit, Sudhhanshu Mittal, Lalu Prasad Yadav, A. Raja of the DMK, Mayawati, Ashok Chavan, his ma-in-law (who he deleted as a relative), Raj Thakre, Jayalalithaa, Uddhav Thakre, Vilasrao Deshmukh, Ex Mumbai commissioner Jairaj Phatak, Sushama Swaraj. Various mothers-in-law, daughters , sons, can be added on later as and how required.

While the insistence on Hindi in the Big Boss house constructed in Panvel, Maharashtra, would make for interesting events with the Thakres inside, It will be interesting to see Kalmadi and Lalu bonding over crunches at the gym inside, with A Raja, urging Jayalailthaa to try the treadmill , and she giving him a distrustful look and checking out the speed setting.

Bathrooms, as per slightly older political history have often served as places to store the loot in secret compartments in the walls. Given the paucity of bathrooms in the Bigg Boss house, interesting conclusions can be reached by timing everyone's usage of the same, and the conditions of the walls.

While Sheila Dikshit, Sushama Swaraj, might bond at the kitchen counter , it would be interesting to see if Mayawati agrees to the Manuvadi idlis that JayaLalithaa might prepare. A Raja, uncharacteristically , a bit careful after his resignation, might watch Mayawati for any ill effects of the idli, before trying some himself, simply out of a sense of homesickness, though the possibilities of him enjoying Lucknow cuisine with Sheila Dikshit cannot be denied.

Lalu will be found sitting out in the sunniest part of the house, bare chested , feet up, on a chair, chewing away on his thoughts, as he tries to impress upon Suresh Kalmadi the need to include his son and heir Tejaswi Yadav in the Indian Olympic Committee, so he can learn from the bosses. Every time one of the Thakres ambles by , he will smile and wave, while spouting invective about communal forces. Ashok Chavan's mother-in-law will try and inch closer to Sudhanshu Mittal , thinking that only a tent supplier can now provide her a roof over her head, so cruelly denied to her , by fellows like Vilasrao Deshmukh, out to get her son-in-law, Ashok.

Since no outside contact is allowed, it will illuminating to see how the inmates appear to outsiders watching the serial. Possibilities of hundreds of Bihar and UP politicians watching for secret signs from their leaders cannot be denied. Something like, a scratching of the knee and spitting to the right by Lalu Prasad being a sign that folks needed to look in the lowest shelf of the cupboard to the right of the party office door in Patna. Or Kalmadi , waving his hands around to signify a helicopter, something to be kept ready for escape once he is out. A Raja, depressed at being away from his Relia-ble cronies, will be seen ensconced in a deep sofa, as if twice the gravitational force , 2G was in operation, and wondering if he got out just in time before 3G started acting.

Raj Thakre will practice his speeches in Marathi, with only Uddhav , Kalmadi, Ashok Chavan, Vilasrao Deshmukh and Jairaj Phatak for audience, since the rest won't understand. Mayawati will try and attend , in her effort to learn Marathi , and woo the Marathi Manoos in the next election.

The Big Boss , will actually be a lady. Aloof, up there, and with informers amongst the inmates. She will interview each inmate to get his or her opinion about the others, so that they can decide who and how many to evict. At the end of the day, she will listen to her "own conscience", pull some wool over her own eyes, and reach her conclusions with the help of her son, who has sneaked in as part of her security.

The nice thing is that all the hitherto corrupt types will be together in custody , keeping a keen eye on each other, and watched at all times by the nation, in the Bigg Boss house. They will eventually expose each other. And instead of spending on the various committees & investigations, you will actually have sponsors falling over each other to pay for this broadcast. As Obama is fond of saying, a win-win solution.

In the meanwhile, latest reports have indicated that Pamela Anderson of Hollywood and Baywatch fame, (where she does a 100 metre sprint into the ocean clad in a swimsuit of uneven proportions, chased by lifeguards) , was seen entering Bigg Boss house .

Sushama Swaraj was seen pursing her lips and shaking her head, Sheila Dikshit closed her eyes, Mayawati stood still as a statue, and while Lalu, Raja, the Thakres, the ex chief ministers, Suddhnashu Mittal, and the ex mumbai commisioner stood open mouthed and staring, Jayalalithaa was seen removing her voluminous cape, and rushing to cover Pamela Anderson with it.....

Further news is awaited...

Edited to add : I dont watch this show, and have simply observed it in the process of surfing channels. But Wikipedia mentions all the rules. While the recent government (nov 17th) rule about not broadcasting it in prime time, and relegating it to 11 pm slots is very welcome, in the above situation, it will simply serve to keep all the worthies out of public view : a typical quick way to get the stuff out of the public's memory....so what's new ...?

Divali for the Soul

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As Divali , our Festival of Lights, gets under way, the media is full of news about either the Adarsh building scam(where powerful types, and those related to them awarded themselves apartment(s) by creative interpretation, planned ignorance of rules, and stupid bravado), corruption detected in one more big case somewhere, and of course Obama's impending trip this weekend , for which it looks like 10% of the US Government is moving here with their paraphernalia, while residents of areas where he will visit , like the Mahatma Gandhi museum, have been asked, for security reasons, to keep their windows closed when he visits.

Away from all this hype, however, there are several folks who exist, seemingly to ensure, that they bring a daily "Divali" into some one's life. They never get publicized or appear on breaking or non breaking news, but their story needs to be told, to get the citizenry to believe, that Divali is much more than stuffing yourself with sweets, buying a bigger flat television, or a new cell phone that talks and tells you that it is time to recharge.

We've been going to this orphanage each Divali. For many many years. As our thanksgiving gesture and to play with and distribute Divali sweets to the children. Right from when they were an organization that started out of a 3 bedroom apartment taken on rent, which they were later on able to buy with the help of some generous donors. They had some really dedicated staff then almost 20 years ago, and barring those who time has claimed, almost all are there today.

Unlike the impression one gets from reading newspapers, there are strict rules about running orphanages, enjoying government aid and grants , submitting so many different types of reports, financial and otherwise , and subjecting themselves to inspections from the authorities. Those who have nothing to hide, comply with all this, and do well. Those that don't, are the ones that appear in newspapers, and then face the law.

When it looked like the original place was going to be too small, the authorities of the orphanage decided to raise funds for a building and approached everyone , including the government for help. Several donors , numerous ordinary middle class folks , some socially conscious industries, some from overseas, Indians , who dedicatedly gave of themselves on a yearly basis, helped in a major way. Several years of fundraising later, they now have a building to call their own, the entrance to which takes you, ironically, through the compound of a local police constabulary/office and a municipal hospital for women and children.

They now house children of various ages, right from newborns in cradles, to girls approaching teenage who have no one to call their own.

When we reached their office, there was s flurry of activity, with lots of office staff (all women) getting the Annual report ready for dispatch, alphabetically. The report is a legal requirement and it is a wonderful read , besides the mandatory accounting things, about the adoption activities, the sucesses of some kids, the problems of the organization we can help with, and so on. There were some enthusiastic young girls helping them with putting pre-printed address labels and plastic covers. Turns out they were young orphan girls who lived there and went to school. After a while they rushed away with some other girls, apparently because it was lunchtime.

Various activities in progress as went went around meeting, playing with and distributing sweets to the children. There were absolute newborns in cradles, fast asleep, oblivious to anything including Divali. Another room had the very young kids, some crawlers, and some who could walk; boys as well as girls. We took the permission of the lady there to distribute sweets. She smiled and said each one could have one, and holding out a full box was not a good idea at that moment, as lunch time was imminent. We agreed to abide by that.

My daughter who loves doing this went in their midst and was mobbed. She shared the sweets with them, and then handed the box to the lady saying she would be distributing later after lunch. The slightly older kids were playing in another room also enjoyed the sweets . Banging plastic cricket bats against crackling balls. A little girl kept running after a ball after a hero hit a "boundary" wall, but the batsmen himself reached before her, picked up the ball and gave her a look. They then got my daughter involved and she bowled a few balls to the future cricketers of India. Year after year the thing that stays in my mind has been the cheerfulness of these kids, every single time.

Their own kitchen serves wholesome homestyle food to all the children. The very little ones are fed , and those who can eat on their own, sit along with the others, automatically picking up stuff like finishing everything on the plate, taking their empty plate to the big sink, and piling it neatly there. They have older volunteer folks who come in on a regular basis to tell stories to groups of children. Sometimes wellwishers organize picnics for the kids, with a bus, and games and eats. Many local industries donate useful consumer products they make. And the kids get excellent medical care from the many doctors who offer their services .

We soon had to leave, because there were lots of visitors that day. So many people coming by with new clothes, provisions, toys, eats, books and what have you for the kids. And cheques. So many folks who celebrated Divali by giving, their own Joy-of-Giving week.....

Intelligent future planning in the design of premises has enabled the organization, to start physiotherapy at reasonable fees for those children in need. (see the video on their web page.) Special educators, speech and occupational therapists come every day. There is a counselling section for parents of such children, and a support group of sorts. They have a computer training section where useful basic computer skills and software are taught to young women at a nominal cost, to enable them to take up freelance work and or jobs. You can have a look at all their activities here under the Projects drop down menu..

Confidence in organization building has enabled this organization to also start an Old Age home in Navi Mumbai, along with a home for destitute young women, or women from families with domestic and monetary problems. The women are trained in different courses and skills, so that they have an incentive to work as adults. They have some wonderful schemes where you can help, and bring a wondrous change in a young woman's future.

I often feel we do not highlight such good work enough. The press highlights only the "takers" in society, and very rarely, the quiet "givers".


I thought this Divali was a good time to do this.

So we can believe that good also exists.

And hopefully realize that life isn't all about corrupt politicians and money and land grabbers. And buying the latest HDTV/cellphone/washing machine paying full price, while planning on giving donations in installments.

Its about bringing rays of light into some lives. Not just at festival time, but every day.....

Happy Divali .....



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