Marks and Mayajaal

If the nurses and the nursing assistants were one part on my  home adventure there were other sidekicks  who created  excitement in what was supposed to be a disciplined, routine household activity. Those were the days of too many couriers and speed posts and plenty of visitors and opening and closing of the many gates to our house became an arduous job for aging father in law.

 My sister in law , a mother superior in the interiors of Vellore who came for a visit said that a new girl had come to her convent as assistant in the kitchen  and she could be helpful to dad in the day to day activities to  act as a gate keeper and clean and sweep  the garden early in the morning and draw the kolams  in the frontage, read the bible whenever he wanted and in case anyone of the helpers is absent she could easily chip in.

She was a peculiar girl for her age, an ordinary rasam (milgutanni soup) rice can satiate her hunger and with a movie of a particular actor she could even forego that meal. She is more of a Buddhist with 'one day one meal' routine and a deep meditative mode, not on the Divine but on her favourite actor. My father in law was a worried man. A girl in her teens should eat well. Even though she pretended to listen to his sincere  advice on health it fell on the deaf years.

On a week end I called our cook aside to find out the facts. She burst out "Only when she gets married and begets a child she would understand her disrespect for food”. While the nurses and assistants gorge on the food and scrap the vessels clean, this girl sits around chatting and joking. But she complains of stomach pain now and then and if ever he gave her a special treat she would pass it on to the nursing assistant on sly. "

Then I called the girl. She endeared herself by pretending to listen carefully. But at the end she opened up. She had been in a hostel for six years and used to plenty of snacks packed from the house as well as outside and regular food was unknown to her system. The orphanage food which was prepared carelessly with smelly rice and moldy vegetables was not her forte and when the nuns were not looking around she used to throw it over the wall. On the pretext of taking her sick class mates or friends to the hospital she would gallivant the town with them and pooling the resources go for tasty snacks.

"Till which class did you study..?" I asked

" SSLC (Secondary School Leaving Certificate) akka (sister)" she replied

" Have you passed?"

After some hesitation and scratching of head she said "I think I have failed in one subject."

"Which subject..."

She was not very sure.

I am a fan of my mum who (in those Godforsaken days girls were stopped from school with elementary education and trained in house hold activities) was a sort of revolutionary sending all her 6 girls for higher education and being her daughter I decided then and there that I would coach her up to finish her SSLC.

The communication to send her certificate was sent home and when it arrived we had a surprise of our lives to receive four of them instead of one! Yes our girl has passed one subject at a time and thus completing one subject per certificate with the minimal pass mark of 35 out of hundred!! Heart in heart I wished that the subject she had failed should be social studies  and never math or science, my enigmas! But it was not to be. She had bunked in science. I was sad. To pep me up my hubby appeased me not to worry and that he could take care of that . After all it was tenth standard science. But the happiness didn't last long when the book arrived!

 One look at the book threw him off the balance!

"But it's in Tamil.." he exclaimed

"What did you expect, an English medium student from the rustic depth of Tamil Nadu..?" I replied

My husband didn't study much Tamil. Though his spoken language was good his writings and  the reading and writing  was not his forte! He did his metric in a seminary  aiming to become a priest and hence his second language was Latin.

We were in a dilemma. Then I told him that the biology part of the science was ok with me and even  chemistry was manageable  but the physics was not a good friend. We arrived at a compromise. That during the week end when both of us were free I would sit and listen to his explanations and in turn  would do my best to convey  the things right!!

Thus started our pilgrim's progress. We too had many temptations. She would love to distract me with many an anecdote. When someone died in the village, the grievance would end with a public show of a movie by their favourite actor! Similarly any celebration with the VIPs and politicians attracted cinema shows. Her father a pious man who hated watching movies once saw her in the crowd and that day was the worst day in her life with him beating her in the public and continued it unto the house too!. But in spite of it she could deceive him by taking her bed sheet and cover herself lest he saw her! Bringing her back to the pendulum theory was indeed a Himalayan effort! She would create as many excuse as possible like  'hearing thatha's call'  'basic nature calls' 'unfinished work' 'her forgotten food' and so on.

Coming back from office when I was tired, it was indeed an effort that both of us could sit together for long  in this distractive ambience. But weekends provided a somewhat better duration in spite of all her devious ways.

She wrote the exams privately and we didn't expect much from her. A pass mark indeed would have made us happy. And she could own her 5th certificate! On the day of the result my husband who saw the result on line came from his room to announce that she had passed with 53percent , her highest score in SSLC! She was all in tears.

"That's not my mark...." she cried

" We know....... we know...... you studied and got the better mark this time." FIL cajoled her.

" No thatha (grandpa), this mark is too low..... I expected a higher percentage......"

Everyone was aghast!

But finally when my husband came out with a smile to declare that she passed her science exam with 83 percent  all she  could do was  to cry copiously to the bewilderment of the motley crowd of nurses, assistants cook and of course all of us!

"What gift would you like  for this wonderful achievement ?" my husband asked her

Without winking her eyelid she said " The latest movie of my hero  at  Mayajaal ( a famous theatre in Chennai) please"!

The Best Advertisement Award Goes To

Some years ago whenever I picked up the daily news paper I  used to wiggle it thoroughly and advertisement notices of various shapes and sizes tumble down from the innards of the main paper. Satisfied with my methodical job I sit in peace to read the paper. But today the newspapers themselves have become advertisements and I search for the news in between them! Sometimes they pop up outside too irritating the reader beyond words who is unable to fold the paper properly!

But there are some advertisements which makes you smile and never an annoyance. If there is an originality and ingenuity award for effective and interesting presentation I would definitely award it to the scooter man who collects old silk clothes with jari. The scooter man never does the talking, It is a prerecorded message fitted to his vehicle with a microphone and it goes thus": Come ladies..... come..... If you possess old Kanchipuram,  Dharmavaram,  Arni,  Banarasi silk saris, silk skirts or stoles we will buy it from you. Please don't bother if they are torn beyond redemption. We will buy it on the spot for a very good price and you can get a good money then and there" The endearing at the same time assuring voice with the right modulation was his asset  and the frequency with which he raided our street was the indicator of the business he created for himself!

Usually the old jari saris are taken to a shop where they were torn into pieces and burnt leaving the silver or gold as the case may be and then melted again. I had the chance to witness the process when my mother in law's wedding sari which had seen many moons and rendered great service went into bits and she had graciously asked me to sell it and get new saris for self and my sister in law. Both of us sitting in that hole in the wall  shop witnessing the sari going into a blast furnace ominously  decided once is enough! The joy of buying a new sari was lost somewhere in the process. If only the scooter man existed  then.........!

The other day there was a semi covered  truck meandering through our street. I was surprised to hear similar coaxing advertisement but with a wee bit of difference. Then I remembered Bernard Shaw who said "Imitation is not just sincere form of flattery- it's the sincerest form of learning." This truck man had not only learnt from the scooter man asking for old jari clothes but improvised and improved upon the old form and the announcement went thus :" Come mother....... Come father...... come brothers....... Come sisters....... Come grandpa ......Come grandma ....... All of you know how important is onion in our cooking and how good it is for our health  and the taste it adds to the dish is mouth watering. We are selling the best sun dried onions for the cheapest price of three kilogram packs just for 50 rupees. You cannot get this price except in whole sale markets and we are delivering the same at your door step. we are stopping the vehicle at your place, please come and enjoy this cheap price and the best product!

When I was young the advertisements were few but still today I can remember the enjoyment it gave and along with my siblings we had a great time with them.

One advertisement  where young boys carrying some placards walk through our street shouting;

"Gopala..."

"Yes... sir.."

"Where do you go?"

"To the shop to the shop sir..."

"What do you buy..?

"To buy some beedi sir.."

"To buy what...?

"To buy some beedi sir.."

"What beedi are you buying...?

"Of course Kaaja beedi sir..."

"What beedi?"

"Kaaja beedi sir"

 There were no organisations then condemning the use of children in advertising for such an obnoxious substance. The advertisement so fascinated us that we used to repeat this chorus in the house almost on a daily basis!

One day dad was furious when he heard this refrain. The elder siblings were taken to task . Dad is a well known school master in the Kumbakonam town and  from the crème de la crème to the lowest rung were his friends and he wielded his unspoken authority to put the populace in the right way  and one aspect is his advice was to avoid tobacco products. If anyone sees him coming across  he would stamp his cigarette underneath his feet and folding his hand  in a submissive way and wish him.  It was no wonder that he was angry that his own children were enjoying the beedi advertisement however enticing the chorus was!

But in our own ingenious way the advertisement metamorphosed into a better jingle

"Gopala..."

"Yes... sir.."

" Where do you go...?"

"To the shop to the shop sir..."

" What do you buy..?

" To buy some sweets sir.."

" To buy what...?

" To buy some sweets  sir.."

" What sweets  are you buying...?

" Of course  honey sweets sir..."

"What sweets?"

" Honey sweets  sir "

Honey sweets were replaced by peanut sweets, coconut sweets, sesame sweets, lizard egg sweets and a very obnoxious named sweet called ‘rat dropping sweets’ (so called because of the shapes) in accordance with the purchase. And other articles like Vincent cool drinks, Kali mark sodas, Rexona soap, Sun light washing soap, 505 bar soap joined in this advertisement  fun game!

After India's independence in 1947 the first Indian election for the Indian people was held in 1951 and this 'Gopala advertisement' was exhaustively used by the parties especially the Congress and it went on like this:

"Gopala..."

"Yes... sir.."

" Where do you go...?"

"To the voting booth sir..."

" Where do you go...?"

"To the voting booth sir..."

"Which is your symbol?"

" Plough and peasant sir.."

"Which is your symbol?"

"Plough and peasant sir.."

With this measly advertisement the Congress party won 354 seats of the 484 seats. But the independence movement of which the Congress played the prime role was the main motivating force for this victory . The poems of the great poet Bharathiar, the sacrificing spirits of the great patriots  played a major role in the win but our 'Gopala' played his role to motivating us and informing us of the birth of a new Independent India!

The Domestic Front and the Great Wars

Managing even a well-oiled  organisation can prove to be a  big challenge for a HR department in this modern world. The old time sincerity  and lifelong commitment in which the Japanese excel themselves has become an exception to the rules. The rate at which attrition happens involves a mind boggling exercise of the HR people. They burn the midnight oil over Abraham Maslow's "A theory of human motivation", try to explore the physiological,  safety,  belonging, self-esteem angles in incentivising the good employees and at times secretly spying on the enemy territory over comparative comfort levels and expectations to make efficient people to stick on to the organisation. Head hunting is no more an immoral act and is encouraged with reference bonus!

You may wonder if this is the case what might happen in the  unorganised sector known as the 'domestic front' especially the elders who needed medical as well as physical assistance at home?!

 Like in Francis Thompson's  "The Hound of Heaven" "If the pulp so bitter how shall I taste the rind?"

Our Agent ("007") is an expert in this respect and at the  drop of the hat he could oblige with a new nursing  assistants, new nurses for my husband's parents. Attritions never bothered him.

But there is a hitch! In spite of this instant response the quality of his work force was dubious. His insertion of unqualified  nursing assistants in between gained notoriety! In case of a  complaint  about the rudeness and haphazard and shoddy work, he would go down on his knees  to get away with it  and enchant us in his endearing voice that he would be sending the best of the best for the next shift.

The added incentive in our house is the meals provided to them according to their shift and it was  wish of my father-in-law (FIL) whose generous village back ground continued to flourish in this metro too. And our 'agent' used this too as a  ploy to entice people!

The vivid experience from these varied human resources enhanced my understanding  of the diverse spectrum of life. And today I would like to share with you some of those.

The prediction that the third world war would be fought over water was proving itself true in our home front. What with the assortment of assistants, the return from the office compulsorily gave me unwanted privilege of a  judgment seat where each of the accused wanted the judge to defend them.

The show would start in this manner. I arrive at home around 6.30. in the evening.

"Madam are you tired.....?"

I was thorough with this prelude which was calm before a brooding storm.

"I am fine ... are you all ok....?" I start off  generically and of course, very  pleasantly

Madam I want to tell you something.......  I told that lady pointing out to the room (the nursing assistant in charge of my mother-in-law (MIL) and she didn't even want to utter her name) to wash her plate after meal.....  Is it wrong...?" our cook said.

" No... no... no... not at all... everyone has to wash their own plate clean for general hygiene......." I made a Wooster like generous and unoffending  statement!

"And just because I told her to wash it clean she insulted me  by having the tap water running over her single plate for 10 minutes. And that too when big Ayya ( The elder master of the house , my father-in-law) was telling me  to use the even the wash water in the garden."

If only this complaint had reached  my FIL's ears (big Ayya) hell  would  have broken loose... We were buying water then. FIL was very sure that half a bucket of  water  was more than sufficient  for a bath. 'Have a half  a bucket bath and save water' was his motto.  He didn't have any qualms on giving a catechism lesson over water preservation to the occasional house guests irrespective of their nationality. While  the locals were morose and at times angry on being told  off, the foreigners admired  the man and his lecture." "Oh you mean " Bucket Bath...."? or " Half A Bucket Bath?"  I will try this too...... I did the other one in Calcutta when I worked with Mother Theresa."

I come back to the cook's  grievance and try to pacify her. "Don't worry..... as of now she is helping the MIL in the toilet ...... I will call and talk to her"

She was disappointed... The anticipation of a  good  dressing-down from me, which would have been a soothing balm to her hurt ego was not coming forth from me.

Then it was the turn of the house cleaner.

 "Madam, the nurses should not take bath in our house and they think they are bathing in the river. When Big Ayya is sleeping they do this atrocity. And I am the one to get the scolding from him for wasting water  They have to use the outside toilet  meant for  servants. Like royalty they comb their hair and throw everything  inside the flush and look .....the flush is over flowing  now. The wash basin is filled with their spit and God knows whose paste they are using. You may think I am  bluffing but  I can take you there to show  their handiwork... and I am not a scavenger to clean every one's s..t. I am doing it out of respect and reverence for the elders and if you don't admonish them and ask them to do the right thing  you can look for someone else to do the job."

I am in a dilemma. Should I first tell off the nurses or call up our handyman to look into the toilet and bring it back to normalcy or pacify the cleaning lady and make sure of her daily presence ?!

One morning, one of the nursing assistant was crying copiously. She had taken off her golden ear stud with the dangle  for the night and kept it near the window and it was missing now. I didn't know what to do. Amidst the sobbing she said that she saw a black figure run across the back.

"Why didn't you shout then?" I asked

"I would wake up the patient..."

The black figure she was very particular was none than our watch man. She was bent upon  creating more problem and confusion in the house front.

How could I doubt  him  who was with us for more than a decade?

FIL was insistent that I buy her a new set. I couldn't say no. But I also didn't want  to undergo the trauma of taking her to the shop. I gave the more or less an equivalent amount.

From then on  I became shrewd enough to warn the nursing lot that any of their missing objects were at their own risk and the house cannot be held responsible for any loss.

And then there was a nurse,  quiet and docile smiling variety and very responsible too. One day as she jiggled the thermometer after taking the temperature it fell down and the mercury globules in turn went after her gold chain and lo behold  turned it white.

"Poor child..... " I thought " She deserves more consideration than the theft incident"

But  that was the end of her visit to 'Ratnas.'

The other day I had hit myself on the shelf door and the forehead had ballooned up and was looking for ice in the fridge. It was missing.

The cook and the cleaner had left for the day.

"I think I have forgotten to keep the ice." I said loudly  to myself

" Madam......"  a new nursing assistant  came running  "I am  fasting for the day and I took the ice to mix with my cool drink... I am sorry I took it without your permission..

Two tryas of ice..... for a cool drink?

"Sorry madam..... the iced drink keeps my hunger away..... My fasting started at 12 this afternoon and ends at noon tomorrow after the Sunday service is over.."

"Don't worry .....I will scrape the fridge upstairs.. But take care of your health.. The Lord might not like you over doing things...."   Holding my head  I walked in search of my oasis.

The night was a sleepless one for me. If the throbbing pain made me restless the heavy coughing from down made me wonder if it was my FIL  or MIL who was  sick and anyway made a mental note that a call to the doctor tomorrow morning was imminent.

When I went down in the morning the nursing assistant was in full regalia of a pure white sari and a long sleeved blouse. She had taken bath in the cold water and as an accompaniment  to the whole show she was coughing away to glory!

"I have finished my morning duties for madam.." she said in between her coughs " Waiting for the next shift person..."

"My God.........she should have right royally infected my MIL  the whole night......."

As I was orchestrating my thoughts on the mode of  admonishment to my 'Agent 007', my cook entered into the house and was shocked to see the nursing assistant. But without any comment she entered the kitchen and minded her own routine.

 In the meantime  the shift  changed and the Spartan  coughing figure had  left for the day.

The moment she left the place the cook called me aside. "Madam, why did you employ this lady....?"

"Mmmm ....it was the agent who sent her...." I said

"To hell with that man...... he should be a devil incarnate to send such people to mind the elders.... You know....... months back she was with the Amman temple  in yellow sari  with plenty of turmeric and kum kum (red powder) all over her, soothsaying to the people, swallowing burning camphor..... she should not be allowed inside the house."

Here is the lady who takes religions to their extremity , an out of bound God-botherer who swung between the burning camphor and the coldest cool drink and in the process infected a human in God's image.

My HR tenure and the related problems at the office  faded into insignificance compared to those I faced in my family front  and my learning curve was indeed heavily loaded dealing with this great complexity!