The artistic entrepreneurs

 

My daughter has written a beautiful passage about Alex, her dance tailor from Mylapore, and I would love all of you to read it in these days of pandemic.

Here is what she wrote:

“Over the last few days, as I prepare to go back to work, I have been thinking about those workers whose lives would have been highly disrupted by the pandemic. One such person, close to my heart and art, is my dance tailor Alex.

Obviously, dancers have lost their primary source of income, in not being able to perform to live audiences, but there is a whole host of workers, whose craft sustains the dance community, from the crafts people in Kumbakonam who make the small brass bells in the salangai (ankle bells), to those that make our jewelry and costumes, and the technicians that ensure good sound and light on stage.

Many of these skilled people, cannot re-train to do other jobs, many like my dance tailor Alex, are 3rd or 4th generation in their family to carry on in their line of work and they excel at it!

Earlier this week, I was asked by one of my lovely dance students Isabelle, to film a short dance sequence for one of her Ashram's online programmes. I had chosen the dances to perform and was looking for a suitable costume and my eyes fell on the one that I am wearing in the photo.

This costume is wonderfully made, lined with heavy cotton, which makes it 'fall' beautifully and rather than being made from a saree, it is made from two 'pavadais' or skirt bits, from Rasi, a Mylapore institution. I remember Alex advising me to keep it simple and not have a huge fan in the middle and making a contrasting blouse out of spare material that he had in his workshop. He could have easily refused my request that without the full sari a costume was impossible. But the artist in him made him think laterally and make me happy! He has an impeccable eye and even today, if I suggest something less than elegant, he gently and politely, but very firmly steers my tastes in the right direction! This costume was made in 2003 and still looks fresh, crisp and timeless. On a lighter note, I am so thankful that it still fits!!

For me, no trip to Madras is complete without a visit to Alex, my husband will vouch for the fact that Alex is the first person I arrange to meet when I arrive, and the last person to see before we leave, as he has the charming (and slightly alarming) habit of bringing the finished costumes, just hours before I have to leave for the airport!

Alex now makes costumes for my entire dance company of 16 ladies, and shows the same dedication to mass stitching, as he did, all those years ago to my single costume!

The point that I am trying to make, is to ask all of you, my friends, to give business, if you can, to people like this, who have no other means of earning an income, who have families that depend on them, who unlike most of us will not be paid for not working, who would have had to close their business temporarily because social distancing is impossible in their workshops etc. If you know anyone in your circle who is in this situation, please make sure you continue to support them.

I have already planned to give a whole new commission from my dance class, to Alex, I just hope that he manages to survive the disruption of the pandemic until then.”

As I read this in the Facebook, I was reminded of an incident that happened not long ago when a man came home and knocked at our door. I couldn’t recognise him.  Who is this? Is he one among the fraudsters who want to cheat you under various garbs in the name of some non-existing institutions, orphanages etc.? They usually carry a printed note requesting donations. But this man smiles at me and enquires about the welfare of both of us. Slowly but surely, I recognised the man. He was the book-binder in our organisation. As the income tax department could scrutinise our records, it was necessary to maintain the records for at least 10 years. Added to this, there was the requirement of the quality department regarding the production process documentations. The binder’s work was perennial. His earnings so good that he has built a house for his only daughter and invited us for the house warming ceremony. As I was standing inside the gate wearing my corona mask he was standing on the other side. Our tete a tete went in this manner for some time and I bid farewell to him with the advice to take care of his family’s health.

“Did you give him some money?” my husband asked when I told him about the binder and I blinked and shook my head. His question indeed made me think what if he had come to me for some money. I was all the time thinking of the invitations he extended on various auspicious occasions and assumed that he should be a well to do person. “What if he had invested his entire saving on the house in anticipation of similar income in the future? What if his only daughter is unable to help him now for various reasons? With no job from various institutions his expectations should be a shattered one. I regretted my behaviour! I don’t have his phone number and my enquiry with other colleagues too failed. Then I thought of a person who lives in a village closer to his. I explained to her about my dilemma and she assured me that she would contact her friend in the other village and ask him to meet me. The amount I gave might not be much but, for that man who was in need every single paise, it counted. I wished and hoped that with the opening of many organisations he would again flourish in his trade!!

In the prevailing Pandemic ambience, we in our small way would have thought of people in need in our own surroundings. We would have paid full salary for our maid servants even if they couldn’t come for work. The usual bargaining with the vegetable vendour will not happen. The regular auto driver would be thought of. Drinking water would be provided to the sweepers who work under hot sun. Similar generosity might be happening from inside the house. We would also think about the selflessly serving volunteers and pray for their welfare. Let us give our might during this emergency and make it into a social happening!

My man Friday

 

“Can you please come home for a few minutes Shanmugam?” I make a call to my carpenter. He wants to know the problem. I tell him that this continuous monsoon rains had tightened the bathroom door and needed lot of pressure to open it. He tells me that he was on a job and can he make it in the evening or early tomorrow morning? I hesitate and tell him that sir is finding it difficult to open it. In that case he says he would come in the evening and is it ok if he was a bit late and I say I don’t mind.

“amma, please check the door.”

“It will be ok Shanmugam.”

He insists that I check and I do it for his satisfaction.

I open my purse.

 “What are you doing amma? It is a minute’s job and would you want pay for it?”

The other day I called the nearby plumber to check the over flowing flush tank. It was a small adjustment inside the flush tank mechanism but like a specialist medicine man he charged me two fifty rupees. Amidst these hungry men my Shanmugam was an exception!

“We are planning to have two cots in the guest room Shanmugam”.

We will make it with good quality wood and I will give an excellent finish. When do you need them amma?

But first where is your estimate?

“What estimate do I need from amma? He retorts and takes out from his shirt pocket his two thousand and five hundred proudly, a mannerism he exhibits whenever there is a financial dealing.

Lot of insistence later he takes an advance for the cots.

Indeed, a rich man in heart and soul!

But there arose a time when he hesitantly stood before me scratching his head.

He was at home for a minor repair and the usual ‘hurry burry’ ‘see you amma’ lest I give him some cash was absent that day. “Can I take leave amma?” he said. His hesitancy persisted. And then he courageously opened up to say “Amma can you give me some money?”

I was stunned! “What happened Shanmugam?” Can I give you a cheque?  Is it some emergency?”

He laughed sardonically and showed me a cheque from his usual treasure trove, his shirt pocket and said “Amma this useless man Modi had indeed made our world topsy-turvy with his demonetization thing.” The tumultuous crowds at all the banks resemble a fish market. An unbelievable lengthy queue is there at the ATMs for a measly sum. This includes the tourists who need hard cash for trivial purchases. His lamentations were multifarious!

I too was stranded in my own way. The foreign guests have arrived at home, the big festival is around the corner and I need hard cash. I call up my husband who left for our bank quiet early and he says that he is still sitting at the bank which is even more helpless. It seems that it would take two more hours for the bank to obtain the cash.

And here at home stands my man at my mercy. I rush inside and tilt my shopping handbag and get three hundred. I was despondent. And then there was a revelation. My coin box!! Again I rush inside.  The tens fives twos and ones were to the brim. Since I get shoulder pain with the coins weighing heavily in my hand bag it has become a habit to drop the coins in the box leaving just a few inside my bag. With the notes and the coin box I come out.

 Have you got a bag Shanmugam?

No amma but why do I need a bag?

I hand over to him the rupee notes and ask him to fill his pant pockets with the coins. Both his pockets overflowed and coins splattered all over. I pick them up and hand it to him.

Amma, amma……. were the words he could say. He was in tears.

My rich man stood there like a mendicant thanks to the handiwork of that noble man!!

I don’t know how he came as a carpenter into the organization where I was working but it was the beginning of an association worth its value in gold. Not a regular employee but he was there at our beck and call.

He was doing those occasional jobs there even after I retired

One day when he came home, he told me that he was not going there anymore.

“Why Shanmugam? They are good paymasters. You can continue.”

“Amma you remember the pongaya tree you planted near the security room? As we enter inside the cool breeze from it will welcome you. That tree had been cut down now. What you now get is the heat within and without. Gone are those days when the staff asked me if I had my lunch and take me along to the canteen with a pat at my back. Nowadays no one even look at your eyes to talk.”

I was at a loss for words!

Family planning was not Shanmugam’s forte. He would happily say that he has three girls and a boy.

“Are they all studying especially the girls? Make sure that they also study.” My tone was authoritative. At that moment my mother’s gene should have gained potency in me, the dear lady who made sure that her six daughters would go for higher education just like her four boys in spite of the conservative society wherein it was a common phenomenon to get the girls married off as quickly as possible. The man looked pained. “Amma my elder daughter had finished her MCA and got a good job in a company. The next daughter is doing her BSc computer science. Son is in the engineering college. And the little one is in tenth standard.” I was stunned and regretting my statement said “Sorry Shanmugam that I was a bit rude.” Then I told him about my mum!!

“Think I am your mother’s disciple” he said and continued

“Amma there is a generous man who gives me the money whenever I needed to meet my commitments to the children and I always repay the amount in bits and pieces which he doesn’t mind. Apart from this good-hearted man another more important factor plays a big role in my life. But for my wife I am nothing amma. She manages the house hold very thoroughly. The money we earn should be given to her and she administers the whole show. Once a week she would pull me to the Koyembedu wholesale market for the purchase of fruits vegetable and groceries where it is really cheap. Carrying the loads, we would board the bus and thank God the bus stop is closer to our house.

Every day morning she keeps glass of pomegranate juice for every one and the big bunch of bananas always hangs in the kitchen for the children to pluck. The fruits are really cheap in Koyambedu amma. Can I get you a box of pomegranate for amma? In Besant Nagar you have to pay exorbitant price?

“Don’t bother Shanmugam. You need not bring it from all the way?

“Am I going to carry it from there? Tie to the vehicle and it comes to your door step.

The conversation goes back to his wife. “She uses just the ration rice for cooking but her cooking is delicious Amma. She would pack five boxes in the morning. The children are never given any pocket money. Her argument is that the government given free bus pass is there and the food is ready. When they come in the evening there is the home-made tiffin. After their allotted work is done their job is to sit and study. But amma she is indeed a hard task master! If the work is not done to perfection, she wouldn’t mind thrashing the children including the boy. But my children never ever open their mouth! Now she has 15 sovereigns in her hand for the eldest girl and now that the elder one is earning; she would manage save for the next one!”

Thus, goes the story. Now all the three girls are well settled and now he is on the lookout for a bride to his only son.

One day he came home to tell me that the coming Sunday they are putting bangles for the youngest daughter and handing over a bag said” Amma all murukus, laddu and other items are prepared by my wife. She makes it hundreds amma!! Taste and see and you will love it.” And this was his third bag for the bangle ceremony. All the three daughters are blessed with children. These bags are for me apart from the Deepavali sweets!!

“Amma my son has to be settled soon.  He is not getting younger. I have registered his name in our associations. Once that is done, I am a free man.” He shared with me.  “Don’t worry Shanmugam. Things will happen soon.” I give him the encouraging words with fervent thoughts.

 One day as both of us were sitting in the verandah the creaky rocking chair reminded us that small renovation is needed. We bought it may be 20 years back and it needed varnishing too apart from other things. The lockdown is relaxed now we decided to call Shanmugam.

There was a lady’s voice was on the call. I said “I am madam on the line. Is Shanmugam there?” The reply from the other side was gloomy. It was his wife who said that he had been admitted at Omandurar for corona (the newly constructed as assembly building by the party which was in power then but vetoed down by the other party which is in power now and converted into specialty hospital!!) A month back when I called him to enquire about the general welfare of the household in these perilous times, he replied that the family is fine and asked about our health and told us to take care of ourselves. His wife said that there was scarcity of oxygen cylinder. My daughter in law at GH was duly informed and she made sure that it was made available to him. As Shanmugam’s wife was unable to give any details, it was his son who was in touch with my son who passed on the info to me.

“He is feeling better it seems.” I rejoiced. This good info continued.

But one day the message was that “Shanmugam has been moved to  intensive care.” I started worrying

It was an unusual for my son to call me early in the morning.

“Mum Shanmugam passed away.”

I froze.

I closed my eyes. “Dear friend, were you not telling me that you would be free after you get your son married and what was the hurry now?

“Am I not that fortunate to have a last chance to look at your face? Can I not present you with fragrant lily garland?” This corona hath indeed the audacity to wipe away life’s little nuances.

But be sure my friend that the precious friendship within would continue to be alive till the end of days.

May you rest in peace.

Make a Mountain Out of a Mole Hill

The lady of the house was grumbling. A born germaphobia her superior level of housekeeping was indeed a failure with the servant maids. With her dubious attitude towards modern cleaning equipment, she perpetually reminisced about the good old days of shiny floors, clean toilets, spotless kitchen and hand washed sun-dried fresh smelling clothes. Her big joint family cooking of those days, though it involved plenty shelling, cutting, grating and boiling frying etc., the kitchen was as good as the Chinese ones with its neatness never compromised. Of late her health problems had compelled her to take a back seat and hence her ever active germaphobia antennae had now turned to a fountainhead of annoyance and irritation and high blood pressure.  Over years the master of the house got used his wife's 'OCD' (obsessive compulsive disorder) but lately her frailty had altered her grumblings into unending litany of woes.

An idea was brewing in her mind from the moment one of her husband's friend who moved to a place for retired people visited them. Like Shah Jahan, the Moghul king, who visited Kashmir for the first time turned into a poet describing it "If there be a paradise on earth it is this it is this none but this!".  This friend too was on cloud nine eulogizing the beauty and serenity of the place!  Spic and span, good food, doctors at your beck and call, hugh hospital in the vicinity, swimming pool, gym, very beautiful walk way amidst greenery and salubrious climate. "Have we missed the greatest opportunity of life?" The lady wondered! She definitely wanted to be part of that heavenly experience 'far from the madding crowd' which was bent upon aggravating her senses. The master of the house was also inclined to this proposal and called his friend one day.

"I am coming to the town and will drop in on the way" His friend said to him.

"Enjoying life in the comforts of home? Lucky people, both of you!!" The friend said as he entered.

"What do you say man? You are the blessed one living in the paradise!" the man hugged his friend.

"Paradise? My left foot toe......."

"What happened? Some minor problem?" He was philosophic." It does happen everywhere my friend.......    For a long time, we both were contemplating about moving on to an apartment in your place. You are always a great company and we can gossip about our good old college days, our carrom tournament where you monopolised the winner's trophy invariably putting me ever into the second place. the three-day walking trip to Ooty, the half marathon we ran for the sake of glucose and fruit juice......... now again let us open a new era!" While the man was all enthusiasm the listener's expression was all glum.

His silence was indeed deafening. A little probing from his side made his friend pour out his heart

"It was indeed heaven. The place was cozy relaxing, peaceful and we enjoyed living there till one morning I got up to a loud hammering sound.  As I opened the door, I saw our compound wall being broken giving me a mega jolt! The confused lot of us who came out running asked the men to drop whatever they were doing to which they replied it was an order from the builder and if ever they had any query, they better approach him and continued with their job. After umpteen number of calls the builder replied that he was constructing two apartments on either side of our apartment. It was for their own better safety. After the work was over, he promised to erect the compound again."

"Did he keep up his promise?"  to which his friend sarcastically replied " Indeed.......Yes indeed."

"Don't be a cynic. what happened? Was the reconstruction up to the mark?"

"That cunning fellow had constructed the compound encompassing all the three apartments."

" Really my friend...... I don't find anything wrong with that provided he had a larger group of security people at vulnerable points."

"I wish that mongrel of the man was as innocent as you are. His greed was a limitless ocean. The builder who had collected money separately for all the external conveniences from them hath indeed made all these facilities common informing that all these two apartment blocks are the annex of our original one and hence a common facility would be adequate. But legally they were not annexes but separate blocks. And not just that he had collected huge amount for external facilities of these blocks but compromised by making our facilities a common one. The whole area would look like a crowded park and the swimming pool would resemble like the Marina beach front in Chennai. We decided to take this man to task and formed an association for our block and sent him a notice putting down all our grievances. The builder never bothered to reply. Then we sent another one informing him that we would take him to court. Now the builder started his psychological warfare. He very well knew that the people living there are retired and old with most of their children settled abroad.  They don't have the physical strength and the mental stamina to do it on their own or expect their children to take up their grievances and fight a case. The children’s visit India was mostly short stay, therefore the builder resorted to easy method of frightening them. One fine day the office holders of the association found that the water and power supply to their apartments were cut off and the cleaning service stopped. He was coercing the others to sign a petition that the office holders are acting against law. He also made threatening calls so that we might sell off our flats cheaply and scoot!

I came to know that our class mate's son is in a high position and I called him up to explain our problems. He indeed pacified me and said that he would rectify these temporary problems for now and take me to his close friend who is a reputed lawyer who could sort out problems without much ado.

Now I would like to take leave. Wish me all the best." so saying the man from our imagined paradise walked off with a heavy heart.

The couple was dumbfounded.  How deceptive was the outward appearance? They wondered! The pastures are indeed greener on the other side of the fence!

Compared to the mental agony of their friend, their problems were just crumbs!

The cheating that happened at Marudhu apartment in Kochi and the owners helplessly standing out with their children and luggage revealed to them the greediness of few people who were avaricious to make money by hook or crook.

The collapse of eleven floor apartment under construction at Mouliwakkam in Chennai four or five years ago flashed back in their mind. Those who invested in them were indeed middle-class people whose life-long ambition was to have a roof over their head. Many had heart attacks and many more became debtors for life!

The couple indeed decided to delve deep to sort out their problems which they considered as minor now. Let us not be fussy about modern utility machines. Let us believe that washing machine indeed cleans the clothes well and floor cleaning equipment does its job well. When we cannot cook, Swiggy, Zomato, etc. are at our beck and call A day's hotel food is not going to spoil our stomach. It might be expensive in comparison. But whom do we save the money for? Our children don't need it. If any of the servant asks for money in between the month let us happily give it and we can afford to forget about it. They are sincere to us and let this middle of the month pay-out be a little donation. Let us use just a single toilet and open the rest when guests come.

 And last of all, there is a standing invitation from both our children to come and live with them when we cannot run the show.

"We indeed possess a greatest gift of life that no amount of money can buy- The peace of mind! Why at all make mountain out of a mole hill?!" With this philosophic mindset, the old couple led a content life.

Ancient Systems Die Hard

"I have passed my B.com in first class sir." Handing over his certificate file a young man was standing with his folded hands in front of the finance head of the organisation (the interviewer) for a job interview."

"what is your math mark in SSLC?"

"98% sir."

"Where did the two marks go?"

"Sir.... a silly mistake sir."

"If you had done the mental sums the two marks would be yours.

" Sorry sir"

By the way where did you study?"

He mentioned the name of his school.

"Oh, is it? Then who was your math teacher?"

As the boy mentioned the teacher's name, the interviewer’s ever-serious countenance blossomed like an early morning lotus! He knew that with the man around one can be assured of a strong foundation in the subject! 

"Now you go to the corner table and write the first paragraph from any one of the books on the shelf. Use the one side paper stacked in a folder. Do you follow me?"

" Yes sir, very much sir" the boy replied and rushed to the corner.

 When he handed over the paper the man had a seemingly satisfied look and asked him to sit. The legibility test though not up to his mark was plausible

Then a session on his mathematical prowess started solemnly!

"You have to strengthen your math man"

"Yes sir, sure sir" the job seeker said earnestly.

"Do you know that the long additions, subtractions, multiplications and divisions  would  be considerable in the finance department and a difference by a digit can cause a big loss to the company?"

"I will be extremely careful sir, will always double check, sir."

" That is not enough, Critical accounts should be referred to me always."

" Will definitely do it sir"

" And now how is your speed with the type writer?"

"Fifty to seventy words per minute, sir "

"Zero error?"

"Sometimes I commit mistake, sir."

"You have to increase your speed and wasting paper is a sin."

"I understand sir."

"I will have a word with the MD regarding your appointment but continuous improvement should be your motto."

"I will try my best, sir."

You might be wondering what sort of funny interview is this?

Just as we need to know the etymology of the subjects we research; this dialogue is the founding stone for our modern-day financial practices! Today we will delve deep into it!

On the very first day the finance head slapped his forehead when the boy showed him the long unruled note book with lines drawn. "Is it an account note book or the zigzag Darjeeling railway line?" The boy was shivering in his pants at this thunderous voice! He knew that the lines he drew were not perfect.

"Have you ever observed your mother drawing kolam every morning making perfect squares and circles rectangles and umpteen number of equal curves without any ruler or compass? Here you have the rulers and rollers and yet such an immature job."

The boy could not make a proper catch of the book thrown at him.

"Use the scale and make a pencil mark at the top and bottom of each column before you draw the line. First draw the lines with the pencil and make sure the lines are perfect and then use the red pen. Now listen carefully as I give you the measurements for various columns:

For serial number 1/2 " Date 1 3/4" Description 3"and divide the rest of the space into three equal columns for the amount received spent and balance sum. Can you space it rightly?"

"Yes sir.... I am sorry sir for my shoddy work"

Just a grunt turned out to be his reply!

And for his part the man wore many hats with élan! Even his hand drawn lines were perfect. He took pride in remembering hundreds of phone numbers by heart and could get connected at the drop of the hat while his minions rummaged around the alphabetical phone diaries presented annually! His type writer a Remington was a thing of beauty which he treasured! And his gentle handling of the machine the speed and the impeccable work was the talk of the town. Any paper used on one side is used for rough work.  "Waste not and want not" was the golden rule in his arena!

 A full-page addition to the naya paisa was flawlessly done in a jiffy. The everyday closing of petty cash was a meticulous. He knew by heart the sundry creditors and the amount they owe to the organisation! The monthly balance sheet counter balanced to the last paisa might seem to be a minor victory to lesser men but never ever to this enigma.

Like the saying goes "Charity begins at home" his financial expertise had its beginning right from his home front! His monthly salary was earnestly partitioned into various thick envelopes with the type of expense written in bold letters. The top partition of his wooden shelf consisted of umpteen number of pigeon holes with lockers and in went these various envelopes beginning with children's education and ending with the one for exigencies which might on some years turn out to be his savings to take the family out on an annual trip!

It was indeed a strenuous job for the boy to work under this perfectionist! But he knew that with him at the top he was assured of a bright future! But there were many who took flight unable to tolerate this autocracy!

Too many changes crept into the department slowly yet steadily. For one, the account notebooks, long and short with appropriate columns became available in the shops!

"I am freed from the shackles of perfect lines and ensuing humiliation" the young man rejoiced!!

"Making people lazy." the perfectionist mumbled

Then one fine day another change hit him like the bolt from the blue when his MD entered the room with a small machine which he said was going to ease his job a lot!! Thus, a machine called calculator entered the department to the joy of all and sundry except our financial head! It was indeed an ego clash!! He couldn't believe that a hand held thing can do such an enormous work in no time! Like the doubting Thomas of the Bible, he manually calculated and verified the answers pelted out by the machine!! His expertise which consumed minutes was a second's job for this dumb machine.

  "The future generation's mental ability would lose its sheen with this useless machine around!" he grumbled. He was sure that it would turn them to useless zombies!

In due course the account note books and the calculators multiplied in numbers becoming accepted members of the department.

It was in the year 1987 a computer entered into our MD's room in all its regalia! Forgetting any protocol, the whole office peeped in just to have a look at the marvel machine!!

We were sitting open mouthed when the computer specialist, who addressed us, pelted out its unbelievable capabilities.

When he told that with this wonder machine around, we Indians no longer need to worry about our spellings and grammar with its auto correction system. We locals who were afraid of this 'phoren' language and bore the brunt of caustic remarks from the higher-ups gave out a sigh of relief.

When he mentioned that it was capable of zipping in hundreds and hundreds of files, the steno jumped with joy. Sorting out the papers into assorted files consumed plenty of her time before she closed shop for the day.

When he declared that quotations, vouchers, invoices etc.  once created need not be typed again for a mistake, but with a bit of deletions and additions it can be recreated 'n' number of times, the finance, the commercial and the HR assistances joined the steno in jumping with joy, except for our finance head!

There was plenty of bonus specially for the finance department

Gone would be the days the time wasted for drawing perfect lines.

The erasers, assortment of rulers and pens would become museum pieces.

Calculations with the help of calculators would become thing of the past.

The machine generously allowed a selection of all the rainbow VIBGYOR and its combo colours which was at their disposal at the click of a button! 

As the man continued stuttering out the magical might of the machine, the head of finance laughed sarcastically and when he vouched that one day their office would become a paperless one, he was willing to label him a big bluffer.

The organisation had indeed metamorphosed more than the computer specialist prophesied.

Things were indeed moving very fast! Every one watched in wonderment when the gargantuan sized computers in the department became individualistic to occupy each cubicle and further mutated to sit in the laps.

Our man sitting in his chair was contemplative. His memories wound back to his childhood days in the village when a spread of well sieved sand was the normal writing pad at his school. Slates and slate pencils were beyond the reach of many.  For these school children the greatest amazement was watching his dad sitting in the verandah of his house which was adjacent to the school and writing in a paper with a thing called pen! They watched in wonderment as his dad sat at his low desk dipping the wooden pen in and out and in and out of the ink bottle! They even used to bet how long a single dip of ink could go!!

When he got his first fountain pen our man proudly exhibited the same to the excited villagers including his dad!

Days went by and that particular day was very special to him when he placed his first salary envelope at the feet of his parents along with a fountain pen, an unique gift to his dad.

The delighted dad gave the envelope to his mother and as he held the pen in hand he said " What I have is more than enough and I could very well manage my little bit of writings with my ink bottle and nib pen. More over fountain pens are expensive and there are many students who cannot afford it and you can gift it to one of the deserving village boy"

Till the end his low desk with the ink bottle and nib pen adorned a reverent corner in the verandah.

As the man woke up from his reverie, he was flummoxed with all these new set up and realised that his system had indeed become obsolete, even though, he was sure that the organisation would very well grow and flourish without him.

He decided to making way to the future generation.

As his grandpa retired, the grandson decided to present him a deserving gift, a worthy gift to this intellect and brought in a computer to the house. He thought that granddad could maintain his personal and the house hold accounts with ease but which was categorically refused by the man.

"My dear boy, computers are indeed expensive and there are many deserving persons who could not afford it. Can you please gift it to one of them" he said?

History was repeating itself. He was doubly happy to buy a unruled long note book draw the lines and present the monthly account s to his son, reckoned and reconciled to a single paisa.

 This dear person was my husband's dad who after retiring from his government post gave his might when our venture was started in a small way.

Till his end we enjoyed his artistic accounting system in the long note book at the home front.

Know Your Stomach

We Indians have a good celebration when the baby takes its first solid food. The ceremony is called 'annaprasanam' 'mukhe bhaat' 'choroonu' etc. according to the various regions and on that great day the child is blessed and fed with rice by the gathered elders. Sometimes this inaugural function is a never-ending norm of continuing till eternity making the mothers do the annaprasannam even to their grown-up children.

It was July 20th 1969.  I was sitting on the portico of my Calcutta house in the Southern part of the city with my baby girl. That evening both of us had a good time in the Rabindra Sarobar park with her running around in toddler steps. The portico was her favourite dinner spot and on that day, I doubly made sure that we sat out. As I was feeding her, I showed her the waxing moon of the fifth day a sickle in the western sky and told her that it was a great day for us all when man had landed on the moon. Observing my elated expression, she too joined in the spirit and happily repeated moon... moon...!

Those were the days when feeding the child was a 'moon affair' irrespective of moon's presence or otherwise a cloudy or a rainy day uninterrupting the show. Feeding my daughter was a thing of joy with her eagerness in enjoying the fare!

But not all the children are like her. There are some who are disinterested in the whole process of eating.  We wonder from wherever they get the energy to play nonstop! There are some affectionate mothers who never eat till the child is fed lest they may tend to forget how it feels to be hungry and thus create a tendency to let loose the child go on its own way!

Mothers sometimes adopted uncouth ways of feeding these adamant ones.

"If you don't eat now the monster in that well will catch hold of you and push you inside."

Unlike the invisible monster a fat man passing by becomes the scapegoat in virtually terrorising the child" Do you see the man going there.... the fat one...? His next dinner will be you."  

The olden day post man is another point of threat with his big brown bag. " If you don't eat, I will put you inside the bag!"  the mother intimidates the little one. The post man too happily joins the mother in this sadistic amusement!

The early morning soothsayer, the man with colourful patch work costume and his colourfully decorated bull, the police man, also make their contribution of intimidation!   By hook or crook these worried mothers want the food into the child's digestive track.

The rare occasion of grandparents' visit is indeed a great relief to their children since the grandmother takes charge of the baby's 'feeding protocol' by narrating good old stories which were dramatically enacted by the grandfather and the enchanted one happily has the whole lot in the bowl.

But gone are the days of these old tactics since one particular technological advancement hath indeed relieved this persisting headache for the mothers. The arrival of television fondly called the 'idiot box' occupying the centre stage of the house hold has become so addictive to the child that it is glued to the machine's visuals and becomes impervious to the food thrust inside. Nowadays handing over the cell phone with the child's favorite programme has indeed become the norm.

The mothers are now happy that the child is eating double the quantity. Their job has become easier leaving them plenty of time for other things. But are they spending the 'the quality time' needed for a proper feeding?

They will be in for a shock when the child's health takes a hit with tummy upset and other related problems. The great medicine man Hippocrates' declaration 2000 years ago that 100% of our ailment emanate from the stomach holds almost good even today! Do the mothers understand that the food given to the child should never be gulped but chewed well in the mouth with saliva which contains n number of enzymes, the digestive agent?

Today I would love to share with you an astonishing experience which I witnessed recently.

The moment the doctor asked her to start off with solid food she adopted the technique called 'self-feeding'. Seating her four-month-old child in a baby chair with table she started with tiny bits of food put in a plate attached to the table. Out of curiosity the child tried to touch what was in front and took it to the mouth, a natural tendency for any baby.  As months went by, these tiny morsels of food slowly gained in size to bigger chinks.

The proteins varied every day with a mixture of rice and dhal or fish and meat followed by boiled vegetables! The baby used both her hands to eat and at times distributing it like temple prasadam to the left and the right. With a clean sheet under her seating the mother patiently picked up the food and put it back into the plate. She knew that it was a learning process and was sure that in due course the child will get into systematic eating.  But she also knew that to attain the stage she has to spend the quality time with the child which can sometimes extend to an hour. She does the thing with plenty of joy all the time speaking to the baby, talking to her about the food. She knew that her maternity leave of a year is meant for grooming up the child. Once she becomes successful the child will know it's stomach to eat what is needed.  The person whom I refer to in this passage is my niece and her dear baby!

On a particular day we were in for surprise to receive a video clip from her. We couldn't believe our eyes when the baby after finishing the food raised her plate with both the hands and in the Indian style started licking it thoroughly and crying!  What better way for a baby to know the status of it's  stomach than a great lick and a cry?!

This wonder baby is none but our niece's child living in London! This mother had taken a tremendous effort to start the ball rolling to make sure that her child becomes an expert in this important life game of "Know Your Stomach".

I wish that the young and new mothers who read this blog emulate this wonderful practice towards having a healthy and hence a joyful baby. Please choose not the easy way of the 'idiot box 'or it's hand held version. The quality time spent with the baby is never ever a wasted one but rather is a life lesson in “Know Your Stomach", a strong foundation laid for its healthy habits!

My kudos to those exceptional mothers who can happily say that from day one my child has its own food and never force fed!

We the crazy bunch

A visit to UK for a month is our annual pilgrimage time when our daughter puts up a brand new Indian mythological Bharatanatyam dance drama at the Playhouse of Norwich, a highly anticipated one amongst Indian dance lovers and usually a sold out one!

An eye opener during this year was a visit to our niece’s house in London where we had an unique experience. As we entered the house, she came running to the door greeting us with her eight-month-old baby and said in Tamil " Thatha and Aachi have come. Will you clap your hands baby?" to which she responded with a gusto of clapping! 

"What is the big deal?" You may think. But my niece had married into an English family and there was no need for the baby to learn Tamil. We were surprised to know that her extended family desired that the child learnt another language to enhance the fertility of the mind!

"Do we ever think like that?" My own question hit me like a bolt from the blue!!

We crazy Indians are crazy about that foreign language English!

Even when we meet a Tamilian friend we tend to have the conversation in English feeling proud of  our apparent command over that language!

We make our children jokers when a visitor comes home. We coax them to sing the slavish "Bah Bah Slack Sheep "rhyme proving the prowess of our progenies in English.

Do we want to compensate what our forefathers lacked? But even they didn't lag behind in their craziness for English. At this juncture I would like to share with you a funny incident in my dad's life.

 My dad was the first child in his big joint family to attend a school where English was taught. For this purpose, he had to stay with his married sister's family in a cosmopolitan town. The sister wanted a cow for herself and on the pretext of providing genuine cow's milk to her brother asked my dad to write a letter to their father to send a cow.

Accordingly, a post card was sent.

And it was indeed a very special post card!! It contained just a single sentence!!

When the post man delivered the letter to my grandfather he was thoroughly confused. The address written in Tamil was right but the message was illegible. He couldn't make head or tail of it.

He returned the letter to the post man the single literate man in the village who knew English, and asked if he could understand the message. He announced that his son from the town had sent a letter in English.

"A letter for me in English!! That too from my son?! "My grandfather was in cloud nine!! He jumped with joy and requested the post man to sit properly in the verandah a courtesy never offered and asked him to read it.

" I want a cow." The post man read " Your obedient son Michaelsamy." and he did the much-awaited translation too! 

For the exhilarated man this process of reading once was not enough and desired that the letter be read several times along with the translation!!

The reverberating repetitions filled him and the villagers with boundless bliss! A measure of rice was gifted to the post man for this special service.

The words 'Your obedient son ' warmed the cockles of his heart.

"Even though my son knows English he is still my obedient son."  The very thought engulfed him with soothing warmth!!

But he was a bit upset that his son had been drinking mediocre milk so long which was likely to spoil his health.

The best cow in the shed along with the calf were dispatched immediately through reliable servants to that progressive town! 

 As I reflected over this oft repeated event in the family circle I tend to think "Is this craziness, for the English language, genetic?!

Through our multifarious endeavors we want to degrade our own mother tongue! In our lives 'Amma' had metamorphosed to mum or mummy and 'appa ' to dad, daddy or pappa ! Grandmothers and grandfathers are the happiest and the proudest when they are addressed as 'grandma and grandpa' instead of the archaic "paatti and thatha and its varieties!!"  At this point I have to confess that I am also a sinner and my 'mea culpas' at this juncture are useless as my children are steadfast in their anglicized callings.

We go on boasting about this language proficiency of our children "She is just three but can write ABCD in capital and small letters! That school is indeed very good!  The incredulity and ignorance of Indian parents!

"And what happens to our Tamil alphabets?" we dare not ask lest we hurt their feelings.

When I was in HR manager in an organization, the staff used lament "Mam! the little one brings a lot of complaint from the school."

"Too mischievous I suppose?" I said smilingly

"No mam it is an entirely different story. The complaint is that he refuses to write. Can I send him for tuition? My friend's child in the opposite house goes for tuition as soon as he comes back from school. Of course, she gives him snacks before he sends him off."

"Is that child happy?"

"No, never mam. He returns home literally in tears and to add fire to the fuel his mother does a thorough interrogation of the lessons done at the tuition."

"Would you love to have a happy baby?" I asked

"Indeed mam, but what about his future...." she replied

 I ignored her 'but' and asked how her child’s handwriting was.

"Somewhat ok. Got one or two prizes for handwriting at school."

"Now I would suggest that you to change it into bit of a scribble and do the home work along with your child."

My statement indeed threw her off the balance! She was shocked by my dubious integrity!

I smiled at her and said "My dear girl do you know the fact that the fingers of the children are not yet capable of systematic usage? They can draw and scrawl at their own will but never at the command from elsewhere.  The whole life is in front of them to do all the writings in the world!"

"Is this true mam?"

"You can go through any child psychology book to learn this truth." I said and continued “For the best education system Finland tops the world and do you know that the children there go to school at the age of seven? But what do we do?  A two-and-a-half-year-old child is admitted in the school on the great day of Vijayadashami and asked to write the alphabet on a tray filled with the auspicious yellow rice.  We justify this infant abuse by the statement " He will adapt and prove himself for proper schooling next year!!" 

I continued “I had the opportunity to go with my daughter to a UK school where she was invited to talk about Indian culture for the primary section in a school.

She created an ambience of bonhomie among the children by asking them to help in decorating the room in the Indian way. Flower Kolam filled the frontage and thorans and Indian posters were hung around the room. In this Indian ambience the curious children settled down expecting the lady to go the podium and talk about India. But instead my daughter asked the children to form a circle and seating herself at the centre began the session with a little prayer for the universe and continued with an easy yoga session all the time explaining the process all through.

She went on to the Indian mythological stories enacting as the story proceeded.

A small session of Bharatanatyam with the beginners' steps was an opener for the children.

Taking out a patch work spread from her bag she requested four children to come forward and exhibit it around for the children to look at the simple yet exquisite artwork.

Then she explained that this ecofriendly spread was made from waste bit of clothes in Rajasthan and one among them was asked point out the place in the huge map.

With the group following her she went through the posters, giving the gist of varied cultures of India.

The children's' enthusiasm knew no bound! There were too many inquisitive questions! They actually made a patch work carpet by sticking variety of colour papers with their own designs in them and proudly exhibited it her!

My friend was enthralled." Mam this is way the children should be taught."

"Yes my dear friend, a mere talk show on India would not have struck to their mind  and  instilling  the creativity in them is the right education." I said

Coming back to my role as HR manager, a convinced mother and employee,     thanked me and left my place and  I was sure that she would  make her house a joyous experience for the child!

 I want to end this with an interesting real-life event from our friend an orthopedic surgeon. This is his narration:

"One evening a worried father and mother came to my clinic along with their three-year-old child for consultation. They said "Doctor, the right hand of our girl is always folded at the elbow. Our efforts to straighten it, ends up in painful cries. We have to feed her at home but she cannot eat anything at school. While the other children are active, she sits quietly in a corner. What would happen to our child when she reaches the marriageable age? Should we go for a surgery?"

I pacified them. Tests were done accordingly and I found no fault with her bone formation. I was confused.  I sat with the parents for a discussion and in the course of which I found out there was no problem with the hand when she was sleeping.

On an intuition I asked the name of the school where she was studying.

When they named the school, I was convinced that the little girl is having psychological problem rather than a physical one.

"Change the school immediately and she will be ok." I told the parents emphatically. I have heard of the school which was notorious for its ‘mug and vomit' methodology with the final aim on marks and marks only and the tyrannical training starts in right earnest from LKG!  There was no space for the creativity and imagination of the children to play a role. This resourceful child took her recluse with an imagined crippled hand!

I told the parents that if their daughter still had a problem after this exercise, they had to come back to me. Otherwise a phone call from them about her welfare would suffice. And as anticipated I received a joyful thank you call from the parents!"

 And I know this incident would be readily waiting to be narrated when someone comes to unload the 'child worry' with me!