Behind the curtains

"This was happening in the almond rich region of North India" cried the newspaper. The printed picture spoke volumes.  Three or four old   toddlers were standing on a heap of almonds spread over a big room and were going around  in a cyclical motion. We have witnessed the prevalence of abundant child labour in our  poverty stricken  populated nation.  In  everyday life we see them as servers in the road side tea stalls, as assistants in the automobile repair shops, in mechanic shops doing welding works sans any protection to their eyes, in the cycle shops filling air and doing puncture work. These are just few examples only. Apart from these known and seen phenomena  do we know about the behind the scenes child labour? That the buffing work to the stainless steel utensils which make them shine like silver displayed in big shops are done by the child labour in a dingy airless rooms? That the match stick and cracker manufacturing centres do have children working by simply changing their age  in the papers? The examples can go on endlessly.........

But the newspaper picture denoted an entirely different category of child labour. Shall we call it "The toiling toddlers?" As I threw the whitish almond nuts into my morning oats porridge  the three pairs of tiny legs portrayed in the newspaper  seemed to stare at me with vengeance!

Why not an adult do this job?  Why a baby? The simple answer was that  this  job could not be done by an adult! The soft brown skin of the almond indeed needed a  light force to get the white nut as a whole  which carries the best price in the market. An adult leg would indeed spoil the show bringing forth just broken nuts!

“Ma buy some branded perfumes for friends or fine bone china for the house  which tourist would prefer to take home." my daughter said "why should you buy these almonds abundantly available in  India? In our own Chennai  the Mint street and beyond where   have  shops doing flourishing business in nuts and dry fruits!"

I had to make a little explanation to her for my  purchase!

Given a choice I would prefer to watch the super singers in the TV channels and especially the junior ones. With their  innocent starry eyes they always add value to the singing. But my heart bleeds for the little ones when they are rejected by the judges however comforting their words were. Sometimes they pathetically stare at the judges  even after their rejection without proper understanding. Could the judges think of a small gift along with their talks?

If the sadness at their rejection was one part of the story, the parents waiting outside in great anticipation look at the child as if he was good for nothing stuff.  The pressure they put on their child  was worse than  on a ordinary  child labourer, since the mental and  the psychological strains take a toll on the efficiency and self-confidence of the child.

The Lilliputian size of the modern family and literacy level of the parents pumps in lot of time and energy into the house hold and children become the guinea pig to the  avaricious longings of the parents and thus the focal point of all unwanted attention. That my child should be an all-rounder bringing in  laurels constantly fills their mind. A scholar, a sports man, a singer of great repute  and thus a money spinner becomes the sole criteria.

"I have “thoo toosans evedhi dhey” one in the school and then one at the “aunthi” miss house” (I have two tuitions every day, one at the school and the other auntie miss' house) with a sigh  a child of three blurts out.

My child can write ABCD up to Z and from 1 to 100  is the false crown which  most of the middle and lower rung groups in the Indian society would love to wear. The pedagogical psychology, it is revealed that children should not be allowed to write till they are 7 or 8 as their fingers are not yet to be ready for that exercise.

 And if the child is able to recite the rhyme "Baa baa black sheep" they reach their crescendo!

Along with all these, their desire to get their children to  appear  in the TV  becomes a life ambition and thus adding one more feather to their cap! And what best route than the super singer programme with the lucrative monetary benefits as an add-on!

And the preludes to this programme  was not as pleasant as the end products appear to be. It is indeed the Calvary  to the child and we happened to be the unlucky witness to this whole process.

 My husband and I were on our monthly travel and stayed at the usual hotel. We love the place and  it's ambience and the walker's way just opposite  made a tempting option to stay in there.

As usual we were out of the room at 5.30. for a pleasant walk anticipating a  friendly accosting of the known faces! As we came to the portico  I was surprised that this serene place  the teeming with  people! The security guard came running and asked us to use the other gate since the usual one we use was locked. We looked around and could see a big crowd  outside the gate.  As we reached the walkers way  we understood that it was not just a crowd outside the  gate  but a big queue was extending beyond. The variety of the gathering was stunning! It consisted of father mother and child combination  or the child with a single parent and also grandfather grandmother and grandchild combo or the child with single grandparent. The whole show reminded me of the fairy tale story of " The pied Piper of Hamlin" wherein the  motley crowd of rats ran behind the piper enjoying his tune! 

Our Walkers way was also monopolised by people and food stalls and someone told us that  audition for junior super singer was to take place in the hotel around 10 in the morning. As we walked along amidst the crowd we witnessed an interview  with a grandmother who was there with  her grandson by the TV channel crew.

The request for an interview enthused the lady and she must have thought it might add value in her grandson's selection process!

"Can you wait for a minute?"  she requested them." I have brought some talcum powder for my grandson and I would use some for myself." She laughed. Talcum powder.....luckily for the grandma it was  the only makeup the previous Tamil generation  was aware of!

On that day we zig zagged through the populace instead of the salubrious trees and  peacock calls. The crew continued with their random interview which would make a proper prelude for the TV programme!

As we moved on we heard a frightened shout of a little boy who was holding his mother's salwar scarf tightly.

"Amma, amma, a wax doll is walking towards us...."

"Don't blabber.. shut up and practice the song..."

 Curiously we turned around  to witness the boy's wax doll indeed it was a crew member who did the interviewing of the people in the queue. In her heavy makeup of  mascara, rouge and bright lipstick and a  short frock and  high heeled shoe she could have easily frightened us, leave alone the poor child!

" Are you having a busy day today.....?" I accosted the staff gathered  in the reception area.

"Ma’am these people are crazy....... I have two young girls but neither my wife nor I would risk our children's life in this manner. Yesterday around midnight an old lady and her young granddaughter were knocking at our gate. They had started early in the morning from a village near Nagapattinam.  What with the crowded buses  they could reach this place now. They had come for the next day’s  audition for the super singer. Since our hotel was away from the centre of the city we wondered how they reached the place. They took an auto it seemed. We were aghast. What sort of risk they had taken at this hour? Anything could have happened to the young girl leave alone the old lady! Since we didn't have the right to open the gate  we had to wake up the resident manager and get his permission to let them in. In the reception area all the sofas were occupied by the sundry male crew members and  we found  a corner behind a sofa for them.  At that moment the old lady said that apart from the rice porridge they had in their house early in the morning they had not had any food through the day.   But we were in a dilemma as we could not go out during duty hours. We told her that there would be a food stall open in the  corner beyond the gate where she could get some food and till she came back  we would be taken care of her granddaughter .

 Ma’amm, we gave her a piece of our mind which she would never forget in her life."

"Hope she had learnt her lesson."

"I don't think so mam." another staff continued "the craze for fame and riches rules the roost! The irony is that of the thousand and odd children  being auditioned today only nine are going to be selected and added to this the rumour goes around  that the preferred lot of four or five children had already been chosen. For this  fake  audition these pitiable children should have been practicing with masters for months!  The pressure from the parents should have been sitting on their heads! And today the wakeup call should be very early for them to reach this place at four or  five in the morning!"

Sitting in the room I was musing. Can our children grow as healthy plants with just natural manure of good values and positive attitude? Why add up unwanted chemical fertilizers of  materialism greed and avarice to make them grow faster and bear just sour fruits? Do we realise that their mental and physical health is affected in the process?

p.s. I have taken away the super singer from my list of watchable! 

The Aryan invasion

Centuries back the first Aryan invasion happened in Tamil Nadu in the guise of  a  service industry and in spite the colossal changes the society had through the period,  like the persistent cockroach  this age old institution still flourishes  with greater intensity embracing the nooks and corners  of our land. The Suhk Rams, Mangarams or the Maghilals continue to provide the service with their progenies occupying the same little space known as the pawn shops!  Similarly the Sowcarpet and Mint area of Chennai had been invaded and  dominated by the Aryans who control the wholesale trading. With their own festivals, tradition and customs and even creating a Tamil lingo of their own  they crafted  a solid niche in the Tamil land! 

Then there was an invasion from further north! The men from Nepal, whom we call as goorkas came in to protect us from  nightly nuisance from unwanted elements intruding in our good night sleep! Their shrill whistles  at various points in the night instead of jolting us brought in plenty of peace and security!  My first encounter with a foreign professional living in Chennai was at the famous 'mat bazaar'  and he was a dentist. My husband was there for a  consultation on the strong recommendation of my father in law  as 'the cheapest and the best in town'. The man with the name Dr. sung Sui ( don't remember it rightly) sitting in his little but neatly stacked up cubicle (only the Chinese are capable of) was a person who wouldn't waste his time and ours too and was right on his job from the word 'go'! My in law was right and it was the quickest and efficient session any one can have with a dentist and at reasonable charges!!

The seedling for beauty parlours were sown in our conservative city by the invasion of the girls  from north east with cute little nose on their big square face talking sweetly in pidgin Tamil. They were the forerunners for the concept of ‘beautification is also skin deep’ and the concept spread like wild fire  among the women folk thus enhancing the reputation and rates of their organisation!

The others were the few Chinese restaurants with  funny names who had the same genre of waiters serving us noodles and chicken Manchurian et al.

And this was the 70s show  of invasion by Aryans and foreign professionals but never in my wild dream did I anticipate  a whopping jolt lurking around the corner!

While we accepted these people as a matter of fact with their specialised professions I was awe struck  to see a north Indian  face in  my very own local sweet meat shop! With his minimum Tamil it was a dumb mimicry show between both of us. I pointing out the sweets and he asking me how much! The business was over in minutes but I missed the usual ‘tete et tete’ that usually happened with the counter personnel on the freshness of the sweets and  how my family enjoyed the one I bought last time. The person would inform me about the new introduction of the season tempting me, right royally, with  a sample! Yes the bill climbed up but I come out of the shop smiling with the lingering taste of the sampled sweet, uncaring about the extra  calories just added!

We were cursing ourselves when a huge apartment block was coming up opposite to our house! We have to grin and bear the dust, noise, pollution  and reverberating vehicles delivering sundry materials day in and day out at least for a year!! Since the police would not allow heavy material vehicles during the busy day  the delivery especially of granite stones created a thunder when we were in deep slumber shaking us out of our night slumber! With the night sleep gone we had to sit around blurry eyed trying to talk and drink some water after missing the morning walks and the yoga!

 If this was a nuisance I was bewildered by the work force. Yes you guessed it right They were  mostly from the north of the vindyas. But this time the influx was more wholesome. Their families had come to stay in the tin roof shed  provided by the contractor they settled down with their belongings and little ones.  I wondered why do they undergo so much of hardship  immigrating to this God forsaken shed? Were there no manual jobs available in their own location?

Or is there a paucity of manual workers in Tamil Nadu?

I later learnt that our own work force took things for granted since the supply was lesser than the demand and hence were  dictating terms regarding  rates and timings. Some ingenious contractor who had visited north found out about the measly wages paid to the manual labour there and bent  upon breaking this southern monopoly should have  convinced the northerners to give it a try in the beautiful south ! That which started as  a trickle turned into a flood and unawares we were caught in a huge deluge!

In came this dedicated labour force who found that the south Indians were better pay masters and the freedom they enjoyed in here was far more better than under their slavish masters of their place. They wanted to prove that for a lesser wage they were willing  to give them better and reliable service!

Like ants they started their work early in the morning (unheard of by our work force) while the cooking was taken care of a by a lady who doubled as the helping hand later in the day!

Sunday  was a day  for a good meal and buying rice from the local ration card holders. They created a contact in the locality with a person who was capable of providing enough and more of  free ration rice for Re.5 per kg.

I still wonder how the young children survived in this dusty  ambience without any sickness. It was indeed the 'survival of the fittest'.   They ran around, played on the sand heaps  jumped over the pipes wiped their noses with the shirt and skirt ends and generally were happy. After a ritual bath and a change of clothing the  evenings were spent in cuddling the little ones  with plenty of gossiping and laughter in their own tongue!

Like the locusts prying on the crops  they spread everywhere including the whole sale vegetable markets and big textile stores! The man selling tomato missed the Tamil accent and it was funny to listen to the price in a different slang! On the other hand it was a free linguistic exchange for our traders too! At least they learnt by heart all the numbers up to hundred in a Hindi of their own! This was to lure the Aryan customers who now abound the market. "Two kg of peas  'aasa' only" they would tempt the Hindi speaking buyers! (while 'assi' is 80  'aasa' means desire!)   So much for Hindi agitation of 1965!

We were at our little village just to have an idea of the renovation of the chapel happening there. The work was going in full swing. We usually sit at the portico of the chapel after the prayers for a chat. There was a young chap, unknown to me, accosting me with an endearing, " didi...... balo aachen?" (" sister how are you?") ( Someone among my village relatives should have told him that we had lived in Calcutta)

 The language which I spoke  40 years back hit me  and without batting an eye the reply involuntarily  came out  from me  "balo tho, thumi kemon aaccho?" (" I am fine how are you?"). I was really taken aback by a Bengali work man! Bengalis are supposed to be intellectuals with the least inclination for manual work!.... Is this man a Bengali? A Bengali young man generally has a  craving for his adda  (chat sessions at street corners) with friends  discussing veraciously about his football and Carl Jung. But every rule has an exception and our Bengali man who was doing his first year graduation had to discontinue due to family situation and one of the supervisor, distant relative of his brought him to Tamil Nadu. With his impeccable work for the chapel and a smiling face he created a rapport  with the people in the street and on a Bengali festival day he even cooked  in his three brick stove some special sweet dish and shared it with them.

The next day morning, instead of the usual kolam, the front of my house  was decorated with a lotus rangoli of colour powders and the words "welcome" arching the top space!. The sincere affection in finding a person who could speak a bit of his language should have filled his heart and I was not sure if my broad smile compensated the extent of his joy!

You might come to the conclusion that the  Aryan invasion is  thorough in Tamil Nadu when it has reached my 'shop less' sleepy little village  and a heavy out flow of revenue from the south to the north is imperative.

But the worry about the outflow need not hassle anyone since a  greater invasion of a different kind is happening  in the land of the Tamils!  Where we lose in lakhs of rupees, by the manual work force's influx, we merrily compensate through multi crores revenue by a different kind of invasion! This money making industry is the medical field which attracts the Aryans to this land! With the medical facilities at  its nadir  in their own states, they rely on the high quality service provided by our highly skilled  speciality doctors and superbly  maintained hospitals! And when it is the question of the health of their  families no one wants to compromise  and the expenses does not matter at all! Apart from the medical expertise it has created another linguistic service industry where upon umpteen number of younger generation qualify themselves in the lingo of the patients' choice happily conversing in their own language providing the comfort zone for the sick in an unknown land! Even at the point of registration the board says so in their own lingo!

Hence dear friends where we have lost in manual services, we have well compensated in our own counter Dravidian invasion through an intellectual skill set.

The Great question of basic hygiene

This news was on the 28th of June 2017 Indian express and the headlines go like this:

"A Bihar village has ACs geysers cars but not a single toilet!"

It's the affluent village of Gaziapur in southern Bihar with most of the 200 hundred families possessing modern gadgets but lived in a house sans toilets. What could be the reason? It is as simple as that. SUPERSTITION!! The man who had the courage to build one in his house 29 years ago lost his younger son for no rhyme or reason. They fear that building a toilet in a house could lead to imminent death of a family member! As a by-product of this superstition people from around are hesitant to give their girls in marriage to the boys of the village however rich they are!

Our southern town of Trichy is a bit superior to the Gaziapur affair. In the older part of the town there are toilets but there is a defect in the placement. They are right on dot at the end of the front verandah and the smell reverberates through the open drainage system

When we were young we promoted ourselves from the open defecation to toilets among the trees at the back yard of the house. Any untimely urgency at night was the single problem what with the trees involved in their devilish dance and umpteen numbers of scary anecdotes by the oldies revolving around them!

When I came to Chennai for the first time to visit my elder sister, she lived in a house where many families lived in portions allotted to them but it was a single toilet for the whole lot. It was underneath the staircase resembling a cave. The urine smell emanated from the old walls and the stench of beedi closed on me from all the three sides. In those days smoking beedi inside the toilet was common to both the sex since the belief was that this process enhanced of the bowel movement. Coming from the culture of trees speckled backyard toilets with copious oxygen this Chennai experience was indeed a breathless one!

 It was the late sixties when we got married and landed in Rajahmundry where my husband was working as an engineer in the Andhra Praddesh paper mill. Movies were the only entertainment and for a small town the theatres screened good English movies with two translators near the screen who would do a perfect job in Telugu (an irritation for the non Telugu group). Our very first visit to the theatre was an enjoyable one with the Jerry Lewis movie. As we left the theatre after the show I started screaming "blood ... blood" After some investigation my hubby found out that amidst the enthusiasm of watching the movie, specially in local lingo, people had used the theatre floor as a giant paan spittoon!

Till the end of nineties the city of Bangalore was a joy to behold with its green foliage and was neither a proliferated jungle of IT companies and nor baptised as Bengaluru. We were on our leisurely annual visit to the city where we could traverse the open space sans diesel smell. Near the Cubbon Park there was a newly built wonder called Sri Kanteerava Indoor Stadium with a pet name given by the Bangaloreans as "Sree." There was an exhibition going on in the place then and with our dual purpose of seeing the new wonder too we made a visit to the place.  We were amazed at the marvel with facilities for multiple sports, rock music and international and local events! As we were nearing the rear end of the tour we were shocked by the disgusting odour engulfing the whole area! Yes...you guessed it right. It was the stench emitted from the rows of toilets of the stadium. We were highly disappointed. Such a sophisticated place deserved an expert maintenance team!? But this was decades back.  Let us hope that things have changed for better similar to Chennai theatres!

In the olden days we used to avoid going to movies in Chennai as the all-pervading urine stench emanates through the theatre especially after the intermission. But now theatres are a delight to visit even though we pay through the nose to watch a movie along with newly introduced GST!

My daughter in law who was on a professional visit to Theni had some times to visit one of the numerous waterfalls which dotted the area. She was amazed by the fact that while the Tamil Nadu side was strewn with rags, dirty clothes, plastic bags, food waste, the other side which was west of the Kerala border was a pristine beauty!

It was a retreat centre in Kerala and when an announcement to the congregation made my sister hang her head down in shame

“Devotees from Tamil Nadu please keep your toilets clean" the announcement said “We have plenty of water." What sort of dirty impression we have created!

It is small restaurant which we favour during our monthly sojourn to Trichy. It was not a smelly one with abundant water supply and a bucket full of phenol with a mug. But the users never care or bother about the next person who has to enter content with completing their own job. Their dirty shoe and slipper imprints and unflushed toilets make the place nauseating. Kindness to the neighbours can be reflected by this small deed of using the health faucet over the area before we come out! As a lesson learnt from our great saint of India, Mahatma Gandhi, I always make it a point to make the toilet clean at entry as well as exit points.

 It was a part of a letter to the editor of a famous English daily from a reader and it goes like this:" Sir I am a frequent air traveler locally and abroad. What hits you as you land at Chennai airport is the stench from the toilets In spite of all modernisation  no one bothers about the proper maintenance of this basic amenity which puts the country as a whole in shame." Even though we are not frequent travelers like the reader we whole heartedly endorse his views

This incidence takes the cake!!

It was an All India women's conference on a beautiful location. At the end of the first day an emergency meeting was called by team of organisers. To make the purpose of the meeting very clear all the members of the organising committee made a dramatic entry to the stage carrying buckets and brooms!

The owners of the place it seemed are threatening them to vacate their spotless place then and there and they didn't bother if it was an all India meet of great importance. Their toilets are stinking beyond words and they wondered how the group of highly educated women were capable such a dirty job!

“We begged with them to give us one chance." One of them said “Unless all of us make a resolution regarding our basic hygiene you can be sure that this three day conference is a bygone affair."

The selfishness with which even the educated women behaved was beyond words! But proper sense prevailed after the dramatic appearance and the conference continued without a hitch!

As young children we used to wonder why our dad had hung two aesthetically decorated and framed words on either side of the alter in the house.

One talks about the Homely Blessings and the other Homely Virtues.

I thought it apt to produce the Homely Virtues in the context of this blog.

HOMELY VIRTUES

The Beauty of Home Is Cleanliness

The Honour of Home Is Friendliness

The Blessing of Home Is Godliness

 The Richness of Home Is Cheerfulness

The first stanza let us add the "tidiness of our toilets" too!

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!