Uplifting Aquatic Journeys

Summer vacation to the village was a double bonus for us children who stay in Kumbakonam  with our parents for our schooling. Our hearts would jump with joy  just with the  imagery of the trip. The delight of living in a big team  for a whole month and a half  and enjoying the waters was the high light of the vacation.

 At Kumbakonam the bath from the well was an effort and unless dad volunteered to hoist the bucket through the pulley and drench us with a copious 'water fall' of buckets. Otherwise  it was a monotonous obligation.

The vacation started in right earnest as we cross the river Kollidam. Amma would make it interesting by preparing tamarind rice and curd rice with potato fry and pickles very early in the morning. A short journey by bus (whose sides would be drenched up with our 'family vomiting spree') would land us on the banks of the river and to our waiting bullock cart. The bullock cart filled with hay and covered with a mandatory old bed sheet was capable of  bringing out any left overs in the stomach. The only advantage was that unlike the bus the person can jump down and vomit to his heart's content and run along the vehicle! The coracle (a small round boat made of wickerwork covered with a watertight material, propelled with a paddle) would be missing during the summer when water just flowed to allow the children unattended to drift along. Sitting in the knee deep cool waters and relishing delicious rice in the palms was  an ecstasy! And this was the first part of the double bonus! The empty bullock cart accompanying us through the waters made it a happy occasion for the bulls too sans the  human load.

The moment  we approached  the village  we jumped off the cart and  join our cousins, the welcome party waiting right at the little dried up Ponnaru river and  ran  behind the cart in gay abandon  along with them till we reached the home. The second part of the double bonus was our grand group trip to the Pappakulam( our village tank) waters!

During summer when water was scarce the tank was a protected area. The pond water was utilised not only for bathing but cooking  and other purposes too. There was a separate tank from where we could bring the drinking water even though the colour of the water resembled a light variation of  South Indian coffee! There were separate guards for both the tanks. The bathers who use the Pappakulam tank were warned not to dirty the water and clear out as quickly as possible. Every day around eleven when  we plan the bathing trip our grand mother would warn us to use the toilet and never ever to urinate while bathing. " If ever you do it the Lord will reprimand you on the Great Judgment Day and order you to separate the urine from water which you can never do. And Lucifer who is waiting in the wings will  take you straight unto the depth of hell."

 The fear of Lucifer rather than that of the Lord made us use our gully (no toilets then! Thank you!) before we entered Pappakulam. The guard usually was a known person. As he reached our steps of the tank he would enquire about  our arrival and the general welfare of the family and smilingly warn us to bathe quickly and not to play in the water to which we would nod with great reverence. But the moment he was out of sight the brass pots brought in fill the water on return trip home would be turned upside down to become the learner's  swimming floatation device! Pushing the ten pots into the water with both hands on it, the twenty  free legs  readily  struck the water with great vengeance  competing for the maximum sound! The little girls formed another group and fought for the biggest bubbles with their skirts!  From the reeds the small fish would join the game with their tiny little bites into the flesh! From the  nearby steps my uncle would perform the magic of floating in the waters folding both his hands in a 'Namaste' posture ! From there he would reach the other end and  pluck a single pink lily and holding it with both his hands  would float again back! He deserved a big clap and we indeed did it with great gusto! The guard would rush from the other end and would threaten us in his raised his voice to clear out of the waters failing which we had to face of the dire consequence of getting scolded by the elders! But we knew that this was for a public show to prove that he was not partial to any one in particular. Heart in heart he knew that these were the ones who would coax their mothers to give a  good meal  for his night dinner! A great example of a symbiotic relationship!!

Even though Kollidam was not far away from our village the visit was a rarity since the unwritten rule was that at least a few adults should accompany this care free group. But with Pappakulam  at your beck and call  for hours together no one was ready to request the elders for the river trip since they had to abide with their 'unethical' rules and conditions  especially the timings!

Even today  the temptation  to get into this Pappakulam waters is great but the avaricious Panchayat (the village admin committee) sort of negated the lure by converting it to a tank to grow fishes and make money. The stench of decaying vegetable and other feeds and  keeps you off!  I wish and hope that some good soul would bring  back our beloved Pappakuam tank to its past glory!

 It was destined that for all the atrocities committed in the Pappakulam tank  that I should go solo into the waters. There was no mud in these waters, no small fishlings  biting your flesh. It was a  sanitised and chlorinated one (on a day to day basis.) Yes the swimming pool at Singapore was my monopoly since I was the jobless person around the four apartment block where we lived. Even though I could do the magic of floating in the water with folded hands like my uncle the ache for the claps and adulations and laughter of the village tank .....continues to sit stubbornly at a corner of my heart!

It is a very rare spectacle to see the seventy plus passionately to get together every year. The PSG 1965 batch does it very religiously every year! These accomplished engineers make sure they are accompanied by their spouses and sometimes their children and grand children too! The annual event for this year was at  Mysuru  arranged beautifully by  a colleague and his whole enthusiastic family! The first day's morning programme was a visit to Thala Kad where we were promised a good bath in River Kaveri. I was overjoyed. Alighting from the bus the  gang walked to the river. I threw my  towel and slippers at the bank and right royally walked into the waters! It was only after some time I realised that I was alone and none of the ladies were into that game! They were watching the river from the banks as if it was a rare exhibit! I turned around and looked. There were just a measly number of men who could be spotted in the waters!  Though it was bit of an embarrassment  to start with I promised myself a good time what come may and there I was floating around folding my hands to my heart's content!!

One among the gang was commenting that soaking too much into the water was not good for the muscles at the old age but the rustic Pappakulam  swimmer cared a heck and her mind was all set to maximise the joy  in the cool sparkling  Kaveri water!!

Longest Hedge to protect the Lowliest Crystals

In a Tamil movie, a granite merchant would compare his stones with diamond saying that big stones like his bring little money while small stone s(diamond) bring big money. We Indians were caught up in a controversial whirl pool of the small stone Kohinoor the whole of April 2016.  While the government was arguing that it was gifted to the British  by the ruler of Punjab, Dulip Singh, for helping him in the Sikh war there were umpteen numbers who claimed that it was  stolen by the British.  As if  this does not suffice Afghanistan and Pakistan too make a claim on that stone as their own!

Without going into dispute of a valuable diamond, it is a proven fact that the British indeed had the acumen to change even  worthless stones of India into a biggest cash cow. What are those worthless small stones of India?

It is indeed an interesting story and I will start at the very beginning!

All of us know the importance of salt for a normal human existence.

It was believed that at some point of the Roman regime the Roman soldiers were paid their salary by salt and the word salary itself is derived from salt. Jesus said " You are the salt of the earth"   The Tamil poets too eulogized the importance of salt by declaring that a food without salt is to be thrown out as a worthless item.

You may wonder where I am heading to recounting the significance of salt. The small stones I mentioned before relate to this little white salt crystals. The salt which was taken for granted  in  Indian food, which had no innate power to affect any one's budget  became a profitable trading item in the hands of the British East India Company replenishing its coffers to 10% of the total revenue!

The modus operandi  to get this cruel revenue from the wretchedness of the Indians was an unanticipated deed from the people of a supposed to be a civilized nation.

All of us would have heard about the Great wall of China, measuring about 8850 odd kilometers long, constructed by the Chinese emperor  to prevent the Mongols from invading China. The Adrian wall by the Romans from North Sea to the Irish Sea was  built to prevent the Picts of North Scotland from invading into England occupied by them measured 117 km. And the Berlin wall  which divided Germany into two to prevent emigration was 140 km long. But could  you imagine a wall as long as 4000 km, a wall in North India which was called the Great Hedge of India otherwise known as Indian Salt Hedge?

 This Salt Hedge was created to avoid smuggling of salt from one part of the country to the other.

When the British East India Company which came into India to promote its trade metamorphosed  into the conquering Company most part of North India came under its control and along with it the salt planes of Gujarat Bengal and Orissa too. Many  check points with long stretches of bushes between them were created throughout North India. What started as a fence with made of dead, thorny material such as the Indian plum eventually evolved into an impenetrable living hedge that grew up to12 feet (3.7m). The scale of this man made barrier and its impact on the lives of millions of people were indeed beyond words

 The exorbitant  rate at which salt was taxed by the British East India Company could be gauged by this comparison: While the rich and prosperous UK citizens paid 1.5pounds per maund of salt, the poor and needy  Indians were compelled to pay 20 UK pounds per maund (1 maund is 37.3 kg). To simply put it an ordinary labourer had to spend two months of his salary for buying the salt for his family!

Due lack of iodine and the vital necessity of salt for the blood system people took ill. An estimated 15 million persons had died due to paucity of salt in their food.   The first cholera pandemic  began in Bengal, and then spread across India and another 23 million died.

This unnecessary sacrifice of human lives was due to the avaricious and greedy attitude of the British in a colonial exploitation. South India escaped this wrath since the system of the toll collection through the check points was abolished by the time the British occupied the place.  The British instead imposed a tax on salt  which prompted the Dandi March by Mahatma Gandhi.

Remnants of this malicious, impenetrable tree wall could be seen in UP even today !

While there is  a fight over our own Kohinoor diamond, millions of Indians sacrificed their lives for the sake of our own little salt crystals!

While we ask for the return of the Kohinoor diamond  how are we going demand a reparation for this colossal  loss?

A Tenant and the Unwritten Laws

It was the fag end of 1970s. We had left Calcutta for good in anticipation of a new life and career in Madras. And we were on the lookout for a rented house closer to the schools for our children which limited our search circle to the Santhome area. Flats were a rarity then. Ground floor and the first floor was the order of the day. "Please make sure that you document everything. Most of the Madras house owners are finicky and they can beat the British constitution with their  unwritten rules. While the EB charges an amount per unit the owners' rates may be double the amount . And common light charges may be added to your account or if it is connected to theirs they will have a time limit to switch it off. They will own the gate key and beyond 10 pm the gates of heaven would not be opened unless you make a special request on very rare occasion. The members in the house would be numbered and any guests would be  under the watchful eyes of the house owner.

 'Beware of those Unwritten Rules' " Our friends emphasised  again.

My elder sister, a veteran tenant, shifting 12 houses before she settled down at her own place at Pammal had great many stories on the  authoritativeness, illogical animosity and jealousy amongst the  house owners who were to be tackled not with your righteous and logical mind  but the tactical and cunning  one! I will write a separate blog on her funny experiences. But as of now we were on our house hunt with a person who called himself a broker par excellence. Our hunt would start in right earnest after breakfast continuing till the afternoon siesta of our broker. The evening session would again start till the time we part for the day when the broker would start  scratching  his head with a sly smile on the countenance. We Calcuttans of 10 years took days to fathom this Madras symbolism for daily baksheesh!

Many of the places shown by our dear broker were either for Brahmins or vegetarians or people in government jobs. We came to realise that he was procrastinating the whole show and sternly warned him that we had no other option but to engage another person. But he promised us that the house he was going to show tomorrow would be his last one. Keeping our fingers crossed we  went to the place. The gentleman had built the first floor to replenish his income since he retired very recently.  We went into the details  and a pukka document was made for 11 months with an advance of 10 month's rent. We were happy with all the written rules, still in dark about the unwritten ones !

 It was indeed a late night when each one of our item found a place in the new location. Next morning, we were deep in slumber when there was a knock on our door in the first floor.

 "What have I done wrong to get such a early morning knock?"  Confused I hurriedly walked to meet the lady standing there  and accosted her with an enthusiastic 'Good morning' as my best weapon!

"You must be tired of  arranging things. So don't worry about the breakfast. I have brought it for you "The land lady  smilingly  handed me a vessel full of  steaming idlis  with sambar and coconut chutney as accompaniments!

"'To provide breakfast for the tired tenant-'Is it one of the unwritten rule  for this owner?!" I wondered.

And many such unwritten rules followed suit in this wonderful rented  place.

On Sunday evenings the house reverberated  with the spirituals from  the greats like Tennessee Ernie Ford. Then we came to know that the man of the house was a big wig of HMV (His Masters Voice, the gramophone record company) and loved music!

Those were the days when  very few owned TV sets and our dear owner was one of them. The only movie for the week in DD (Door Darshan, the government owned television station) was on Sunday evening and we were invited us to  his place to view the same . What started as a TV viewing metamorphosed into communal meals and the children of both the families thoroughly  enjoyed themselves. And it is a happy news that the same bonhomie continues among them till this day !

"To entertain the tenant- Was it another unwritten rule?"

We bought our own TV   after a while but the emptiness of watching  the DD movie without the gang hit us hard as with the people down!! We were really sad to break that unwritten rule!

The couple had a big family of one son and seven daughters all married and I was fondly introduced to all the friends and guests as the eighth daughter of the house!

It was the norm that whenever coconuts were plucked from the trees around the house they would be sent up in right earnest for our use.

Another unwritten rule!

The advent season was  a big bonus to all of us in the house as uncle Thangaiah welcomed it with rare carols from individual singers as well as  various choirs including King's college choir on his LP player!

Christmas was an occasion when most of the daughters gather in the house and the way uncle and all his sons in law get themselves suited and booted  for the night service used to fascinate us!

Christmas get together at our house was a thing a of great joy for both the families. Our extended host’s family combined with the equally talented uncle's family  recreated the magical spirit of sharing  with songs, plays, games concluding the day with a sumptuous dinner!

Our daughter was a great admirer of uncle from the day he played a record in which the comedy actor  Danny Kaye was narrating  funny stories. After more than 3  decades she could go through the stories word for word with all of the actor's enthusiasm ! 

Uncle never trumpeted his achievements  in the field of music. It is great news for us that all the Christian songs came to the fore because of his unrelenting efforts to bring them under the HMV banner! Till we saw his photo album we didn't know that he was so well connected with all the big shots of film and music industry.

In his photo album The HMV Man  could be seen  with the Congress chief minister Kamaraj, chief minister and  actor MGR, today's Tamil Nadu chief minister  Jayalalitha,  AVM Meiyappa Chettiar of AVM studios  yester year's one and only ever green heroine Saroja Devi, the great Sitar maestro  Pandit Ravi Shankar, cricketer  Farook Engineer  the queen singer P. Suseela and the highly talented T.M. Soundara Rajan and so many others.

When many a high ranking  retired personnel ache and mourn over the power and authority they enjoyed during  service, uncle Thangaiah rejected many offers within India and abroad which could have made him a millionaire. Instead  he opted for a simple and contended life enjoying his music, his organ playing in the church. The afternoon after lunch session in the verandah with  fried ground nut routinely delivered by the cart vendor along with his dear wife Stella auntie followed by  paan chewing and a small siesta and back to his music was more valuable to him than tall the riches of the world!!

Uncle died in 2008 at the age of 92. At his death bed when his health failed, memory sagged and speech blurred, his relationship with his beloved music never ever slumped. His fingers were still playing to the great  music flowing within him !

On Sunday 'Hindu' newspaper the photo of uncle Thangaiah and Stella auntie on his 100th birth anniversary opened up  the flood gates of memory and  hence this blog of love affection and admiration!

What else can we do for the owners of our rented house whose innumerable  unwritten rules  has bound us in love and happiness?

We have created a  strong relationship by bringing in  a girl from that beloved house into our family and wish that the progeny respect and revere those great values to create a fertile lives for themselves!

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.