The Train Tickets and the Indian Mindset

The news that a 44-year-old woman, caught for travelling ticket-less,  chose to go to jail for seven days instead of paying a fine of Rs.260, saying the authorities should first arrest and recover the loan dues from liquor baron Vijay Mallya  opened up the Pandora's box of stored events in my memory.

Ticket evading  is an innate Indian mindset. It satisfies the psyche of a person with a  win win situation when he has to endure a lot of hardship travelling in cattle class in Indian trains. 

It happened in the eighties when my husband  was staying in Paris with his friends for a few days.  On the first  day as they travelled in the metro my husband bought a single ticket to ‘Gare du Nord’, While a friend travelling with him did not buy a ticket.

"Can you buy a season ticket in Paris Metro?"

" Yes..... yes.... very much." he giggled.

As they  alighted from the train his friend asked him to go ahead and put the ticket in the turnstile gate. The machine right earnestly swallowed it letting the gate open for him. But his friend’s ticket was different. A thread was tied to the ticket and a slight insertion to the turnstile opened letting him out and as he came out he pulled out the ticket using the thread. Coming out he giggled again and explained to him his smart method of travelling free with just one ticket bought long ...long ago!!

"How much of wealth the French had swindled from our mother India? This little effort from our side is  just a measly compensation!!

But in this digital age the systems have become smarter making no allowance for this hanky-panky business!

The next one is even more hilarious!

When Lalu Prasad Yadav was the railway minister a whole gang of people from Bihar travelled ticketless to Kanyakumari, the Southernmost  tip of India informing  the  ticket checking officials that why they should buy tickets when their 'saheb' is the lord and master of the Indian Railway?!!

The audacity and the justification....!!

My mother used to tell this funny (not so funny then) incident in her life. It should have happened in the early 1920s when she was five or six years old and when travelling by train was new and paying for travelling was alien to the bullock cart travelling mind. The bullock cart from the village dropped my mother and a few of her sibling along with their uncle and aunt  at the railway station at Kumbakonam. Her uncle  was taking his sister's children  to his place and it was their first travel by  train. At the station my uncle asked my mother to remove her skirt and blouse......! My mother looked at him in amazement asking for an explanation....... "You need not buy a ticket if you are not wearing anything my dear girl." he said matter of fact.

"In that case" my mother said "buy me a ticket."

Her uncle couldn't comprehend this answer. He thought that this little girl should be joking. If removing the dress implied a free travel you can as well do it in this hot climate. However much her uncle and aunt tried to convince her with a good example from their own child of the same age, this adamant little one would not budge.

 Why waste money on a ticket? If only  this little girl could cooperate  the savings could be put to better use.

His persuasion  and enticement with matinee show at Prabath theatre at Trichy couldn't help out the situation. As a last resort her uncle aunt planned a ruse through their eye contact. All of a sudden the girl felt sudden grip of her body by her uncle while her aunt was trying to undo the knots of her skirt This unexpected double assault  was too much on the puny girl and holding her skirt tight she took off like 100 meter  runner all the while  yelling at the top of her voice. The inquisitive  crowd at the station had gathered to find out what was happening......!

This unwanted attention was too much on the uncle and at the end he had no other way but to buy a half ticket for her!!

In the Mumbai where Ms. Premlatha Bansali raised her protest against a high flying(hiding!) entrepreneur in the most novel way, thousands of passengers were patronising  a newly started of venture by  tiny entrepreneurs  with their tiny contribution!! The story goes like this:

It was indeed a far more popular insurance scheme of the early 1980s.Launched by a small band of entrepreneurs from Borivali. The scheme was specifically targeted at the Western Railway commuters . A model of simplicity, it owed its success to a rather unique interpretation of the principles of checks and balances, where checks meant the rare ticket checking operation conducted by harried and over worked TTEs and balances referred to the growing sums in the entrepreneurs' bank balances.

The scheme worked like this: you went to one of the company’s numerous agents (helpfully located near every suburban station) and registered yourself as a bona fide policy holder by filling in a  form and forking out 10 rupees towards annual premium. No proof of residence, age certificates or medical examination- all they wanted was a simple declaration of name and address and Rs.10 towards annual premium. You were immediately issued a small card with your name and policy number on it duly authenticated by the company agent. And with this all your commuting expenses are over.

Because thereafter you can travel for a year in second class without having to purchase a ticket. In the unlikely and unfortunate event of your falling prey to a TTE during this period all you had to do was to pay the fine (which was if memory serves right  double the maximum fare) for the ticket. Now all you have to do is to take the receipt issued by the TTE along with your little insurance policy card to the agent and lo and behold the entire fine amount was reimbursed to you on the spot, usually with a lecture on how to avoid TTEs in future. The agent also noted the event on your card before returning it to you, for the policy allowed a maximum of three such claims during the year. This was a perfectly reasonable caveat considering the chronic paucity of  TTE staff and the  above average artfulness of the average Mumbai commuter in dodging the TTEs.

To say that the scheme was widely popular would be an understatement. Within few months of its launching several lakhs of hardened commuters had purchased policies.

I recall the remarks of a colleague who had thoughtfully taken out policies to cover his entire extended family from grand uncle to  numerous toddlers against TTE risk. “Travelling has never been so pleasant” he said cheerfully “People are more relaxed; they smile more and quarrel less. All thanks to the insurance scheme- indeed today there must be more policy owners than season ticket holders in the trains.”

Alas like all devious projects devised for happiness and benefit the common citizenry, this wonderful enterprise was cut short in it’s prime by a callous government official. There were conflicting reports as to how the end came. According to my colleague the fault lay with an Anderi bound commuter. Challenged by a TTE, this worthy declared in ringing tones that he possessed neither ticket nor cash with which to pay the fine; whereupon the TTE threatened him with brief sojourn in the railway police lock up Instead of quietly acquiescing in the interest of common good (a nap in the lock up would have done him some good), my colleague said bitterly, the infuriated gentleman produced his insurance card and taunted the TTE with it.

Confessions led  to the operating agents and the police eventually moved on to the headquarters (a small rented room). They found records indicating that over Rs.50 lakhs had been invested with the company by it’s happy clientele. A pall of gloom descended upon the great city with the company’s dissolution ; for it marked the end of a true fine insurance scheme, in every sense of the word!!

Flowers, Fragrance And a Phantom

I should have been a sniffer  of sorts in my previous birth and the imprints seem to continue in this birth too

It was middle of March. As we go to the terrace to enjoy our evening  cuppa I inform my better half of a  delicate scent in the air.

"Today is Friday.... the fragrant sticks might have been lit up in some houses"

"But it is different." I said

We walk around and he smiles back at me.  It is not the fragrant sticks  but  the branches of a neem tree from the   house behind  bowing  towards our terrace with little starry  creamy scented flowers! It was just the formal inaugural. This fragrant path would move from strength to strength  gaining momentum till the end of April when day in and day out  the plentiful bunches perfumed the ambiance!

This following incident happened years back. Once we were travelling  from Chennai to Delhi and from the Delhi airport we took a cab to the city (It was  May ). On the way, the  a/c in the car fluttered and we had the only option of opening the windows. My hubby was worried about the  Delhi dry heat. But as the saying  goes everything is a blessing in disguise. As he gingerly opened the windows, it was not the Delhi heat that hit me but  the heady fragrance from the  flowering  neem trees lining  either side of the road !! Long live the monarch of Delhi who planned these trees !

"Is it not the our own neem fragrance?" (he is also excelling himself in the art!) I nodded and held his hand. We were in cloud nine! The driver was apologetic as he dropped us at the destination and suggested that we reduce an amount from the fare for the inconvenience. But he was in for surprise when we explained that he had unknowingly  handed us a bonus  of a fragrant ride and rewarded him with a tip he well deserved!!

In the same old Delhi we experienced a varied fragrance when our friend invited us for a early morning walk at Buddha Jayanthi  park. Many of us would have seen or heard about the coral jasmine trees (short trees with 5 or 6 petal flowers with  reddish orange stem and a perennial) which start to give out their fragrance from around the evening and continue through the morning. In Tamil Nadu  we grow just one tree in a house mainly for  pooja . But as we entered the park  we were  literally flooded and inundated  with the scent. The authorities in charge  have indeed fenced the path ways with these coral jasmine trees filling the breath of the walkers with pleasantness in addition to laying a royal carpet of flowers!!

Our walk from home to the Besant Nagar church on Sunday  morning is a bonanza during this season.  The sniffer in me starts the process in right earnest. It is not just the neem tree blossoms  that vie for attention but the hairy pink and white flowers of the rain trees compete with them! This fragrant concoction makes one to forget  the diesel smell and also the umpteen number of deterrent vehicles parked on the "walkers" platform !

We also had a coral jasmine tree in our house. There is a way of collecting these flowers: Two persons should hold a cloth underneath  the tree and one person should shake the tree vigourously and a heap of flowers fills the cloth. My father in law, an artist by hobby used to collect those jasmines to decorate the altar on a daily basis and on special days  like birthdays wedding anniversaries etc  he would go further with  'age' 'names' and 'God Bless you ' decorations. It is not just for his children  grand children or the great grand children but he did it for the extended family and friends so much so  our altar was like the facade of a wedding house almost all through the year!!

The tree couldn't withstand the Chennai floods of December2015  and alas we have lost it!

It was  rainy season. We were at our school in Trichy. As we got out of our car, the air was filled with wood jasmine smell and the ground was carpeted with those long stemmed white beauties (thanks to my brother in law,  a crazy tree lover)! And the tiny tots in the KG were busy in the verandah with the flowers doing  scented designs to their heart's content instead of the routine recital of 'ABCD' or the 'one to hundred' or the 'Bah bah black sheep'! What a beautiful way to introduce the children to nature and it's fragrance! A life lesson indeed!!

There is a funny incident related to my dear flowers which I would like to share with you. We were at Edenganni for the summer holidays. It might be hotter than Chennai, prickly heat and boils may be waiting in the wings ready to pounce but yet this is heaven for us what  with the gathering of relatives, a full chapel for a change, the singing of our Lady's litany  throughout May and the enticing smell of vessel full of fried lentils kept as offering in the altar....... a tete et tete after the prayers..... um..m...m...

 Our driver  tired after a day's driving decided to sleep in the thinnai (verandah) so as to enjoy the southern breeze through the night.

Next day morning he called me in confidence and told me there is a ghost in the house. I laughed.  "Our Sandana madha (St Anne) hath indeed made a covenant with our ancestors to guard against all evil forces leave alone your ghost."

 "Madam you won't believe if I say this. I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. The whole place was filled with jasmine smell and at the very moment I saw a white figure gliding past through our door to the street. I was shaking; I pulled the bed sheet over my head and tried my best to get some sleep but it was next to impossible.

I was stiff as a log but the jasmine smell left behind by the ghost wouldn't go."

I just thought for some time. There was no necessity for him to lie.

 The next moment I was  started laughing.

" Madam seems to think that I am lying." My driver was sad

 "No my dear man..... not at all...Do you know my little nephew next doors and he wanted to sleep with us for the  night."

"Yes madam  he  even said good night to me."

"Exactly....But at the middle of the night he decided otherwise and  wanted to go back his mother. He whispered the message to me and ran off. And he wrapped a white bedsheet, as it was cold and walked through the house to go to the adjoin house."

"Ah..ha.....  now I understand...." he said  not yet convinced

 But what about the smell madam... ? There is no jasmine plant or creeper around........

"Look up" I told him. In front of the house the noni tree was standing in tall in all its majesty, resplendent with stumpy little white flowers.

"And do you know that the fragrance from these flowers are  headier  than the best of jasmines?"

 It was indeed a pure coincident that my driver woke up at the moment my nephew came out and the southern breeze blew in the fragrance.  The explanations convinced him.

That night he had a wonderful sleep of course with the jasmine smell all around!!

Biometric Verification Phobia

Of late travelling to UK was not  a big strain for both of us. During those strenuous  working days we used to take a nonstop flight on British Airways to reach the destination as fast as possible. And it was always from Chennai to Heathrow like a point to point Tamil Nadu buses. Now we break our journey at Dubai  comparing notes with national geographic channel's visual description of this  techie airport  and  window shop for two hours, buy an almond stuffed date packet and take another flight to Heathrow.  Everything seems wonderful till then. But as we reach the immigration point at Heathrow I go jittery. At the  checking counter the passport scan takes a second , their verbal enquiry for the purpose of visit takes another and after this the high drama starts for me. 

Yes you guessed it right ... it is the biometric system which needs my thumb print in all its perfection! There is nothing wrong with this requirement except that my biological system refuses to partake in the game

"Can you put your thumbs on the reader please?" I am asked courteously. In all smiles I oblige and press but the result was naught.

"Harder please...." The British politeness. Still  my imprint refuses to register.

"Show your thumbs please" I  happily respond thinking that he is going into a different mode.

The man applied some gummy liquid unto the thumbs.  " Now the fellow will not play truant.... ha.. ha " he laughed and asks me to press my thumb. I was disheartened

Even after energetic exercising on my part and cajoling from the better half the result was zilch.

 All other counters were moving in great regularity except the one monopolized by me, the royal Indian! Like the spider which tried to build its nest 18 times  and taught a life lesson to King Bruce, I was trying to prove my resolve to the man in the counter.

After several patient trials  and a frail imprint on the computer the man shook his head.  He should have thought like King Bruce, who learnt a lesson from the spider, and took risk with resolve to clear immigration. He again looked at my bunch of passports stapled together and the many visas, short term and long term, to allow valid entry to  England.  

With resignation written large on his face, he said "Please go ...... have a nice stay and enjoy the weather"

I should have convinced him about my good conduct during my sincere effort and compliance that I might never go into the terrorist category !

Anyway this has become my regular routine of entry into UK for of my annual vacation.

But never in my life  had I imagined that I would undergo a similar ordeal in my free India! This is also an equally interesting one!

For several years  we had been evading obtaining the Aadhar card, our national individual identity.

The idea that you are being numbered like in prisoner  or in many of the broiler schools (where you are known by your number alone) was distasteful to us . But many of our friends frightened us  with dire consequences to us,  the Aadhaar less people.

"Do you want a birth certificate? A death certificate? Caste certificate? Register a property?

Register a marriage under Hindu Marriage Act? Or Special marriage Act? Want a solvency certificate?

Apart from all these in future if you want  to pay bills or apply for a driving license Aadhaar is a must"

Another one added fire to the flame  " Do you know in the State of Delhi 90% of the citizens own Aadhaar cards?"

This psychological warfare  didn't bother us  much.....Only 30 crore people of India possess the Aadhaar card .The remaining 129 crore  of  the population   happily goes about without this piece of plastic. We are in the majority! Ha ha......

But when one of friends informed us that this Aadhar card registration is happening closer to our house, we decided to  do away with this procrastination and relieve our friends from their anguish!

Since the requirement was that  the forms were to be filled in Tamil we did that in right earnest  and where we had some doubts we decided to clarify it on the spot.

We waited in a reasonable queue and as we entered the sanctum sanctorum and submitted our applications. At one corner there was a growing mound of these application and ours were duly consigned to the place it belonged! The professional gang took our photos  and then the biometric retina scan and then........... there was the biometric registration. I thought this local one will prove to be  easy. But it was not to be. "Press the thumbs nicely madam" he said. When I failed to respond, he said "Now I will put my hands over your thumbs; It may pain a little... hope you don't mind"

"Yes please...... go on....., I don't mind at all."

With all my experience I understood things in the right perspective. In spite of the exerted pressure my thumbs were adamant.  The impression in the computer was still feeble.

The man scratched his head and said " Can you put your thumbs on your head and rub some oil into it?

But I don't have any oil in my shampooed hair.

Again he scratched..... He looked around

"Akka (sister) can you do a little help? Can you allow madam to rub her thumbs on your hair please?

He addressed the lady waiting for the retina scan.

I look up at her. In the beautiful rustic fashion she had applied coconut oil and plaited the hair properly (unlike city folks)

"Why should I ?"she was vehement

"It is just to help akka. Since madam had taken a head bath there is no oil in her hair. For the proper impression of the thumb a little bit of oil helps. But don't bother if you cannot."

She smiled and bowed her head to me.

With a 'thank you' I rubbed my thumbs unto her hair.

With this ingenious  replenishment and an aided crushing hand pressure from the official, I successfully  accomplished my biometric scan!

But how are you going to manage in future....... 

I will be the king Bruce's spider....... try... try.... and try again

Making Idlis -The English Way

(Idli is a steamed soft dumpling made from rice and lentils)

From the moment I started living in Chennai my story regarding the servants had been an unbelievably utopian one. I had been used to a particular type of service where my kitchen was spic and span and the  food was at my beck and call… for eons…..!

After this exquisite service for years….. I am hapless today and servant less. The vessels in the sink stared at me like minions and giants of various sizes, threaten me to the core and the usual smooth self of mine had metamorphosed into an instantaneous  trigger  ready to shoot(sorry shout)  at anyone with a slightest comment or suggestion! However much I tried to reduce the vessel count, it seemed to multiply like the miracle of 5 loaves!!

A proper dish washer is yet to be invented to hold the idli maker, the grinder and their accessories and assorted kadais and what not. Now it was my daughter who listened to my woes and advised me.

“Why don’t you avoid idli all together? She said “Do you remember granddad’s friend from abroad who composed a poem on the “white demons” sitting at the dining table glaring and frightening him with their steamy eyes? He sang it to us on the last day he left! “She laughed

She is a staunch idli hater…..like that foreigner….. 

Then and now…….!

But she doesn’t know that a vessel full of idli dough in the fridge makes a Tamilian lady psychologically happy and contended. Any exigencies could be managed by its presence…! The idli dough has multiple uses. It is capable of transforming itself into idli or dosai of various varieties (kal dosai, paper dosai. masala dosai) or delicious uthapams according to our whims and fancies!

 I sighed at her ignorance

Will this burger girl ever appreciate this essential role of idli dough?!

The absence of this vital food ingredient in the house would be as if a baby had been snatched off its milk…!

 I held a powerful defence weapon for her question!!

“Listen my dear girl…” I said “The WHO (World Health Organization) hath indeed declared idlis as the most nutritious and healthiest number one super food in the world.”

When we Tamilians want to defend ourselves we make sure that we go into superlatives…..!!!!

“Hmm….. There might be equally good if not better but less laborious and less time consuming foods around.” She continued

“Ok….. If you want to stick on with your sticky idlis why don’t you buy the readymade dough..? Saves lot of labour and reduces the number of vessels…… you can stack the polythene covers full of dough into the fridge and have your heart's full…..!

I was  burning…….. And wanted to give a full vent to my feelings. I continued

“Idli dough..? In a plastic cover…? You know how I avoid plastic bag usage in our house….. How can you ever think of me using so many plastic bags? They might be biodegradable but in India we throw all the muck in a single lot……And pushing out the dough like a tooth paste….? It is not the ideal way the idli dough should be treated….. A light stir with a ladle  to the fermented dough and a gentle pour  into the moist and slightly oiled idli plates brings forth the smoothest of smooth variety of idlis….a thing of beauty indeed……!!

And tell me who vouches for the quality control of the dough? What if the dough is mixed with cooking soda….or boric powder to keep it fresh? What if the whole process of preparing the dough is not hygienic? You know there was an article in the newspaper that the analysis of the idli dough in the food lab in Chennai revealed the presence of faeces particles. “

The conversation ended with this unpleasant note and the Skype was silent for some time

Weeks went by ……  But one day there was the call

“Amma forget what I told you about your idlis the other day….”

“Forgiven and forgotten. “I said.

“Now I want a help from you regarding idlis… can you send the recipe?”

I was aghast! What happened to my girl?!

What a great conversion!! I rejoiced….. !! I started planning!!  An aluminium idli maker is better than a stainless steel one. I can easily send it through post parcel which is cheap and safe…..

I didn’t realise that I was building castles in the air

“ Amma a friend of mine who visits Chennai during Margazhi music season met a man who introduced him to the Mylapore Karpagambal Mess and it's idlis. A bit of the idli soaked in sambar made him a born again man and he rushed to the close by Indra Metal Store and packed an idli maker and a grinder as his first precious purchase! Now he wants a recipe for making idlis. Though we get a lot of these in the net, he would like to have it from the horse’s mouth. Ha… ha…! So amma, can you mail your method to his email id please?

I was totally disappointed…

“Ok ……send his id” I curtly replied

“ You sound bored amma….. Are you alright…?”

“ I am fine… I will send it.”

My girl was in a asthmatic fits and  laughing a lot when we skyped again a few days later.

“ Amma what did you mail to my friend…?”

“ It is my preparation…”

“The other day Steve came to my house and as we were talking and the subject turned towards our idlis. With his British under statement  he said “ Anne I followed the recipe your mother had mailed me. But the idlis turned out to be gooey and stuck to the idli plates and you know Anne …..the whole house was stinking….. Had to open all the windows and doors to get rid of the smell….. Does the Karpagambaal mess’s kitchen stink too?” He was pathetic

“What did that man do?”  I asked

“Yes amma…… even I was worried. So I told him ”Steve can we go step by step please?”

“ I soaked the urud dhal and the fenugreek seeds.”

“Right……”

“ Then I boiled the rice….”

“What… !! Did you ……. Did you boil the rice......?!!!!!!! But why?”

“ Your mother’s instruction.”

“And we rushed to your mail amma.” Holding her stomach she  started laughing again. ” Steve had indeed followed your instruction to the letter……..”

“Amma…. you had mentioned boiled rice which in India denotes par boiled rice. We make a difference between boiled rice and cooked rice.  But the English mind didn’t understand this little nuance and hence the confusion…….!! So next time when you send a mail on this subject to anyone, even to your North Indian friends make sure that your idli rice is always a par boiled one… and never ever boiled rice !”

 My idli  had indeed become a laughing stock of the day.

“ Did you buy him your par boiled rice?”

“ No…instead we together decided that Steve could have his quota of idlis at the Karpagambal mess during the Margazhi music season in India and we  consigned the idli vessel and it’s accessories to his attic..!

I didn't like the skype laughter at all.

The Edanganni Equation

After the night prayer in our village chapel it is customary to gather in the facade for a small tete-a-tete  before  we disperse for dinner.

That day the talk was about an uncle whose wife was his sworn adversary from day one. The story goes that  he was taken to a house for 'bride viewing' and he  was so fascinated  with the girl that he gave his consent then and there and the marriage date was also fixed by the elders on that occasion. But at a later date the bride's side found out some  astrological hitch and the proposal fell  through. To be turned down by the bride's side, that too his son being a  government employee, this was indeed a  prestige issue and the  father vowed to conduct his son's marriage on the fixed date. This time there was no bride viewing. The father took on the onus and in great haste a girl was arranged. Our boy was upset and on the day of the wedding he would not budge from his bed. He was cajoled and coaxed  and literally pulled to the chapel  to the accompaniment of drums and nadaswaram.  There was nothing wrong with the bride, she was  homely girl, well versed in house hold work but the man's initial dissatisfaction continued to the end. At his death bed all his anger towards his wife which included the little chapel and it's patron saint too!

He used to shout "When there are umpteen number of male saints in the church, like St. Antony,  St. Sebastian  which fool's idea  was it to name the chapel after an old  lady (St. Anne) who protects the female genre to the disadvantage of the male population?"

"Look at this village........"he lamented, “the joker in the last house died young, while his sickly wife had a good grip on life and survived till her late nineties........

Another healthy and hardworking cousin died in his seventies in his sleep while his wife freely enjoys movies in the nearby town. In the very next house the sick man is pushed to the cowshed due to some life sucking ailment while the lady plays dayam (similar to mahjong)  with her friends all day  long  gossiping .   Every year the ladies leave no stone unturned to celebrate the feast of St. Anne and pacify her by making pongal (sweet rice)

The reluctant bridegroom, our uncle, now in his seventies, used to tell his wife; "Hey lady don't ever imagine that you are going to enjoy my pension for a long time hiding behind that 'old lady of the chapel', as soon as I go I will make sure of a reservation for you in heaven to immediately follow me " With this caustic remark he would toss and turn around  in  pain.

My uncle died but something should have gone wrong either with the reservation or the delivery from the next world.......even after 20 years the ticket from the world beyond had not  reached our aunt."

 "Or St. Anne might have caught hold of the courier from heaven on his way to the village and threw the ticket into our 'Pappa kulam' tank (which is the large pond in the village).

Everyone laughed including our dear aunt as she recited this episode in the holy venue on the portal of the chapel.

There is a truth in what he said in spite of his venom for our aunt. One of the ladies in the gathering said. "We ladies live long in this place" We  laughed out again. It became the joke of the day! I shared it over a call with my elder sister for the next bout of laughter and with friends and other family members longing for more!

 "Shall we all go live there ?!" one of them joked

In great anticipation  I shared it with my youngest sister, a leading campaigner for gender equality, who regretfully belong to the category of women who could squeeze out  any element  from any woman's joke for condemnation.

After a pause she said "It's no joke sis, Do you know that in those days the girls were married off as soon as they reach puberty? Or sometimes even before that? Do you know that our own mother got married very young and we know the age difference. Our men love to have young girls as their wives. 'Young is beautiful'. 'A man never gets old' is their male chauvinistic notion. They think and believe that the ladies lose their vibrancy very quickly. So at the husband's  old age a young wife can be of great assistance to him rather than being a sick and aged companion!

Do you know that the Singapore prime minister late Lee Kuan Yew's wife is elder to him by years?  Together it was a beautiful experience for them.

Do you know that Kasthuri Bai is older by months to Gandhiji? They were an ideal couple.

Do you know that both these ladies preceded their husbands in death?

Now tell me sis, whether it has anything to do with the chapel named after our dear  lady St. Anne and that she is partial?

With this gender justice water fountain she right royally doused the feminist sarcasm.

In any equation there are two sides and that is true for the Edanganni equation too.

The Pasca - Passion play

A few years back we were fortunate to visit an exotic place in Yercaud where our friends had built an equally exotic house. Of the four grounds  plot that has been sold, the purchase agreement says  one is allowed to build  just on one ground of land  allowing the rest for greenery! The seller was indeed a green lover!!

As we went  for an early morning around the 56 acre gated community and  verdant beauty we were introduced to the gardener whom  our friends thought was an enigma. Apart from tending the gardens with great care and love that son of the soil was a  medicine man par excellence. That particular day a man was celebrating the birth of a child after 14 years of marriage! He was thanking the gardener who was responsible for this miracle with his herbal medicine! We were overwhelmed! The gardener, Mr.  Mariannan was like a well chiseled sculpture with a baritone voice and as we were  congratulating him on his  wonder medicine our friend told him that we are Christians too. This made Mariannan very enthusiastic and turning to us he said; "Aha.... Sir then you should have witnessed a pasca (passion play) during the Lenten season". We replied in the positive and told him that even in our village it was customary to celebrate the washing of the feet on few Thursdays in the Lenten season by each family in remembrance of the last supper of Jesus and that two weeks back we took part in that ritual.

He said that  in the local pasca  he was  one among the  key actor which takes place in Yercaud on the 6th week of Lenten season every year. When we wanted to know the role he played in the show he informed us that he was John the Baptist who was the precursor  to Jesus. It seemed that the drama reached  its crescendo when Herodias, wife of Herod demanded John the Baptist’s head as her birthday present which was cut off and offered in a platter to her!! Such was his powerful performance that most of the audience would leave the place as if it was the end of the show and not the  crucifixion  of Jesus! Mariannan was laughing with pride when he shared this information with us.

As we walked along I remembered the first and Pasca I attended.  I was eight then and  went to my aunt's place in Michaelpatti a small village of our relatives. I got the fright of my life when the relatives came into the house to chat. Most of them had long beards and moustache! My aunt explained that were going to play various roles in the passion play. She also added that on these  40 days of the Lenten season peace prevailed over  the village since the actors fasted on all days and  most important they avoided booze and paan chewing.

The show started on Good Friday and went on through Easter Sunday. The whole village was in a festive mood with the sprouting  sweet meat shops with their pink and green offerings. Bangle shops  vied with one another to tempt the  ladies. The balloon man laughed along with the sticky sweet seller with his fare in a long wooden rod who could magically produce 'vibgyor' edible watches and bangles! With one anna and half an anna  gift from my various relatives I was indeed rich and my cousins lead me to these various shops where I became a provider. And as a sort of recompense to the Lord we made occasional visit to the church in between!!

The piety with which the Good Friday rites were conducted in our  house was totally lost in this festive mood.  We didn't attend any way of the cross. For a change I didn't mind and enjoyed the ambience with the guilt pushed to the outer most corner. But if only my mother had known these facts it was doubtful if mother would have allowed me this trip at all!

People running around to get ready for the show filled the village with anticipation. A stage was set up In the huge church ground and villagers  reserved their seats by sprinkling water and spreading the mats at the vantage points The show would go through the whole night and we children had the advantage  of  snoozing within five minutes unto the show  in the cold breeze from river Caveri!

Now back in the present at Yercaud, our friend was saying; " We haven't heard about such a show at all. May be this year we will go and witness Marianna's " our friends said

" Why don't you go to the village of Oberammergau in Germany  where the world's greatest passion show is happening?" I said

"Is it?"

" You know  the   villagers of Oberammergau  were  enacting the show from 1634.In the  year 1632 a bubonic plague was ravaging the region and the death rate among the adults rose. The villagers prayed  that if God spared them from this   they would produce a play thereafter for all the time depicting the life and death of Jesus. The death rate among adults slowly subsided. The villagers kept their part of the promise to the Lord . The whole village participated in the show. But what was once a village show had turned into an international show extending to 5 months once in 10 years ! And even in this international show the villagers are part and parcel of it."

" It would be interesting if  we all plan to go together."

" The next show is happening in the year 2020."

" God willing............ If not our Mariannan's show is available all the time... ha... ha....."

We continued the  walk.

" I also have an interesting anecdote in this regard." my husband went on with the passion talk.

 "This happened in a village near Dindugal. The passion play was at the climax when Jesus was to be nailed to the cross. The cross was laid on the stage and Jesus was  pushed  unto it by the Roman soldiers. One of soldier dramatically brought in big nails. The audience was in tears.  As the Roman soldier raised the hammer the spectators were literally crying. As the hammer went down with big thud into the cross ,a screaming Jesus jumped off the cross and pointing his bleeding finger at the Roman soldier he gave out a  ******* word  and shouted " Mind where you are putting the nail you son of a fool.......  never ever  on the finger but in between the fingers..... you******* idiot." So saying Jesus Christ went back , stretched his hands and laid himself on the cross!! The most passionate of  part of the show turned into laughing event! The funniest part was that the Roman soldier happened to be his own son and whether he  was sleepy or did it on purpose was questionable even to this day!

Our laughter continued till we finished our walk at the water falls!!

A marvel of a meeting

It had rained heavily the night before and our road as usual was a big  stream of dirty water. In keeping with the Chennai norms the platform was absent in many places. And what little was left of the platform was made use by the  apartments making a dugout  for the convenience of taking out their vehicles and for their part the Chennai Corporation had constructed umpteen number of manholes in the name of service to the citizens. And depending on our fate, they might either be left open or closed. The construction people  too had their share to add to the pedestrian misery by disposing building debris.  Hence the platform was usually avoided  by the pedestrians and with that evacuation by the pedestrians, all the vehicles ingeniously used the road for more manoeuvrability.

On this day of my experience, it was further impossible to use any part of the road since it was flowing with murky waters and using the platform became inevitable.  It was heartening that the motorists were considerate that morning and reduced their speed lest the walkers would be drenched to the core.  I was coming back from my walk and as I was getting ready to amble around the debris on the precarious gap of a platform I saw an old  lady trying to do the same from the opposite side. I stopped and waited till she came over to my side.  Wearing a cotton sari and a big bindi on the forehead, with sparkling ear stud and matching nose ring  she accosted me with a benign smile and said “The old time culture is built in us…..Today’s youngsters do not bother. Even if you are standing in the bus young girls look the other way (as if we are the road side beggars at the traffic signals).  That way boys are better and they do give their seats to elders.”

“It is indeed true” I said

“ Are you a Christian?” she enquired to which my reply was positive. ”I too studied in a Christian school and I know many songs.”  I beamed brightly with a nod and was ready to proceed further on my way but she would have none of it. She told me that she had her heart surgery a few months back and it was indeed a very critical one.

"Come closer" she said and opening her blouse she exhibited the stitches as if I was her intimate friend or a dear relative. She continued “Before the operation my sugar was 400, my potassium was down and my creatinine level was high and the doctors kept their fingers crossed when they decided to operate on me.  My husband  had to  sign the papers  acquitting the doctors from all responsibilities. 

After the operation I was lying in the ICU unconscious  for several days The ordeal came to an end after three months and I was back home. I went to the hospital for my first check up As sitting in the chair was a effort I lay down on the row of four chairs which were empty.

A  gentle touch woke me up and I thought my husband who had gone for his coffee had come back. I was wrong. The chief surgeon, who operated on me, was helping me to get up and led me into his room.  Other patients in front of me were still waiting 

I was worried ; Something must have gone wrong  with the whole operation. “Amma” he said “we have done a thorough check up of all your parameters. Are you happy to know that all your parameters are  normal?” I couldn’t believe my ears! He is indeed a miracle man! I thanked him profusely.

“ Now let us come to a very important point.” He said and crossing his legs he sat relaxed

“ What doctor….? I was worried about the bad news he was going to deliver after the good one.

“Amma whenever I came to the ICU to check on you I found you singing softly. I am curious….. I would like to listen to those songs. Can you do it for me?

“I was enthralled and went on from one song to the other and that busy doctor was enjoying my show all through…”

“ Would you like to listen to those songs now?”she said turning to me.

I was reminded of the singer Krishna who took the Carnatic music songs from the elite platform of sabhas to the slums of Chennai.

In the middle of the road I was about to listen to songs…..! Am I dreaming…….? Am I crazy……?

Yet I replied to her “Why not…..?”

 She sung……. Held my hands…… Kept  the rhythm on my chest…….Song after song it continued……… I couldn’t control my tears. Is  a miracle happening to me? Am I inside a church…..?

When I came back to my senses I thought about the lady…….. I realised that she had a major surgery recently. With her song still continuing I slowly led her to a low compound wall nearby and made her sit…… The watch man of the apartment became one more  appreciative audience

 When she stopped at last I was bewildered! For her age she  possessed a fine voice.

"Shall I sing an English song for you...?"

I couldn't say no

“ How can you do it?! At your age?! And that too after your operation?”

“That is what the doctor too asked me ”she laughed and continued “ It is the Lord and his songs! whenever I am alone at home I sing incessantly and energise myself!  And you know the doctor gave me his hands and asked me what he can do for her. I held them in mine and told him that these hands were my saviour but this was possible for me because I was able to manage the cost of the surgery. Would these hands help those who suffer and still are very poor? That is what the Lord did”

“Now he held my hand tight and said “Yes amma  will do it.......for sure”

On an appreciative note the watch man plucked a canna flower and presented it to her.

"Take care" I said

As we crossed paths  my gait was different.

I shared my once a life time experience with my husband. He too was enthralled and said "By the way did you get her address or phone number?"

"This is just once in a blue moon event..... can't happen every day but there is a reason and it shows that the Divine speaks to us through very unique events, which most of the time we brush away" I replied and went away humming!!

The Chennai Floods 2015

The  sufferings of the Chennaites during the 2015  December floods were of great magnitude. Unprecedented outflow from the lakes and intermittent heavy rains, poor infrastructure took a heavy toll.  The houses in the embankments were washed away. The low lying areas took a big hit with water rising up to the second floor level. People were hungry sick and helpless . In spite of the political parties which were bent upon fishing in these troubled waters the spirit of Chennai rose up to the occasion. The youth who were generally considered  beyond redemption   proved that they were a class par excellence and with their selfless service  filled  the entire  state with  hope for a great future . 

The flood was not a huge  monetary loss for us but the inconveniences caused were worth a mention in this blog!

It was raining hard the whole night and in the morning balancing an umbrella on the slippery steps  I came down to the ground floor where we have the guest bedrooms and kitchen and dining. The portico and the verandah were brimming with murky waters.

Being an optimist  I believed that the inside of my house would be safe and sound. Sometimes it is better to be a pessimist!

 As I opened the lock the welcoming committee was in place in anticipation  of  my  arrival. The door mats were floating around along with the precious and expensive coffee table books ! Our DIY IKEA book shelf turned turtle throwing all my beloved books unto those muddy waters. In the bedrooms the stacked up bed sheets spreads  towels etc  in the lower shelves had gained weight ready for a liposuction.

Our kitchen is indeed a class apart. Even for ordinary rains  the swelled up well at the back creates minor havoc around  the place. But on this  day the chaos was of different order. The lower shelves immersed in water along with the 'drunken and dancing'  groceries were indeed a once in a life time spectacle!!

Added to all these chaos an amazing occurrence was happening in and around house. The tiny frogs, not the tadpoles but full grown minions occupied the house and  it’s surrounds in great strengths leapfrogging on any one who dared to disturb them. Like the Pied Piper of Hamlin they followed suit on those who dared to enter their regime.  In my anxiety I took broom which was standing straight in spite of  this utter disorder and started banging at them. I regretted my hasty action. The frogs jumped in glee all over me and I got the fright of my life thinking over my grandmother's commanding statement that we would get skin disease if  ever we came into contact with a frog!

At one point of time electricity was cut. In spite of using the inverter very frugally it gave up its spirit. Efforts to light up the  few tea candles  with a single match box was a grand failure with the match box conspiring with the wet ambience.( From the newspaper  we came to know that a single candle was sold at Rs.50.) Frantic outside calls went unanswered striking panic among friends and relatives outside Chennai and the  unaffected lucky few  within the city. 

Wading  through the waters I cooked a pot full of rice and carried it to the first floor. With some  pickles  and 'fridge less' curd it turned to be an ambrosia for a full day!

If I thought that the inside of our house  was in a big  mess, in many houses the toilets were overflowing creating a big stink. As in the poem of Francis Thompson ‘Hound of Heaven "If the pulp so bitter how shall taste the rind?” if the houses themselves were in a state of chaos  what could we say about our road condition? The grimy water was filled with jetsam and flotsams of varied hues and shapes. The stink from this overflowing waters could be the  precursor for any number of contagious diseases waiting  around the corner!!

My son and daughter in law were our redeemers whisking us away from this muddle. They too acted as the guardian angel for my sister in law from her place where the water raised to the waist level.

10 days with the grand children and rest of the family , an interesting book by your side and the rainy breeze  through the French windows was indeed a bliss!

I am giving you all these details to explain my situation and why there was no blog for quite some time.

In sympathy with the ambience it gained plenty of moisture and refused to budge to the heat of hair dryer. No service person were available for the  lowly few  single computer owners since their priority was to bring back life  many an inundated IT companies filled with umpteen no of computers. Mine sprang to life late but applied for VRS in no time and till the new person joined duty my blog was wait listed!