A Fortress Unique

Kings built fortresses to protect and safe guard their kingdoms and its citizenry from enemies.  Moats, draw bridges and heavy front doors unbreakable even by a battalion of elephants were the precautions in the same direction.

Today these fortresses of yesteryear are delegated to the tired tourists after heavy shopping pretending to listen to seemingly enthusiastic guide who must be equally tired after the thousands of repetitions of the same story unless he weaves a new one to add a zing to this every day routine!

 The innate desire and the inbuilt genes to protect and guard the property runs through us also if not to the extent of the royalty. We create umpteen number of gates and doors buy the best of locks including the world renowned ‘Dindugal’ multi levered ones to secure our houses. The process of quality checking of these contraptions against the illusory enemies happens day in and day out. The computerised locking system is the latest addition.

But this brand of fortification takes a different avatar in my house. We don't bother much about our locking system since anyone who enters the house would just find treasure trove in the form of books whose ultimate value in the weighing system of the old paper man might be a measly amount and for the greedy burglar it might be a disappointing  endeavour  where his love's labour is lost!!

While we might be bit relaxed about our locking-system we are very meticulous about another defence where the quality checking starts in right earnest around the month of October for any given year.  It is against an enemy who doesn't want usurp our kingdom but rather wants to be part of us, to live with us and like a calculative and cunning financier strike at the right moment at the very core!  Yes it is the blood crazy winged insects, the modern day Draculas’, our beloved mosquitoes who begin to proliferate as the rainy season starts in Chennai.

For us this season is indeed a double whammy. Apart from the multiplication in mosquitoes the city of Chennai turns into the cultural centre of the world with its grand sessions of music and dance and the foreigners who pay through the nose to travel here for this convergence also multiply like mosquitoes!

Our house too dons the festive mood during this time as people land here with great enthusiasm to enjoy the show and the warmth of the place. While protecting ourselves from mosquitoes is just one part, safe guarding our foreign friends from them is a very intricate part. Like the Indian mentality of "craziness about anything foreign "our very own Indian mosquitoes never want to lag behind in our idiosyncrasies. When the foreigners arrive home, they become indifferent to the desi blood and avariciously fall for the foreign one, a supposedly greener pasture!!

And that is the main reason why we start our quality check of our mosquito-netting in right earnest! Our house being an old construction when people believed in an airy dwellings the doors and windows  abound. As if this wasn't enough for the inflow of oxygen there are ventilators high above the windows. The toilets with Venetian blinds and exhaust fans are the vulnerable ones too.

The whole set of nets are brought down checked for wear and tear meticulously

Promptly a word file is created aptly named 'Mosquito Menace' and kept handy on the desk top and ticked off as and when the repair or replacement takes place.

As my paradesi friends arrived, I announced my commandments with all seriousness of the grand old man Moses with his ten commandments.

Keep your room door shut all the time

Keep off the mosquitoes

Keep the bath room door shut all the time

Keep off the mosquitoes

Keep your room door shut all the time

Keep off the mosquitoes

Keep the bath room door shut all the time

Keep your room door shut all the time

Keep off the mosquitoes

Keep the bath room door shut all the time

Keep off the mosquitoes

This precious mantra is repeated till it touches the right cord!

But what can I do when these people starving through their lives in the 'cold sun' love to go in full swing for a sun bathe in the terrace and appease their 'heat' hunger and in the process invite our mosquitoes with open hands for a grand feast?!

And the house which becomes busy during this period the opening and closing of various netted doors become imperative and the mosquitoes waiting for the right opportune glide in gracefully.

It is then that my house turns onto a shuttlecock court (of course with entirely different rules) when bats, local and foreign (very effective!!) are brought out and we could witness very many persons jumping around and smashing with maximum speed as the mosquitoes act as elusive and invisible shuttlecocks. The proof of the job being done was the crackling sound from the mosquitoes emanating from the bat and the victorious cry " I caught it ...I got it."   If some intruding individual is caught in the process a similar ear-piercing scream is a sure thing!

Despite all these preventative measures, one among our friends was severely bitten and the redness and the bulges and spurs on various parts of her body was the proof of the pudding. The bites were so severe that they were oozing out at some points.

On that fine morning, I saw her sitting in the hall wearing a coloured bangle similar to the friendship bands the youngsters wore in dozens! She took the clue from my surprised look and whimpered " Yea this is also an additional precaution against mosquitoes."  And the tea table in front of her was laid with various lotion and sprays! Apart from our own Odomos Morteins All Out and the Fab India and Himalaya herbals and were accompanied by foreign assortments of repellents.

She complained "I don't know how they enter my room even though I make sure that my door is always closed the gadgets work day in and day out." she was pathetic indeed. Then I thought there must be minuscule space between the door and the floor and started pondering how best this gap could be arrested.

All of a sudden, an idea struck me. During the dance programmes season at the prestigious Kalashektra of Chennai, the team in charge had a ploy for chasing away the mosquitoes from the aesthetically decorated open theatre. Mud pots filled with coal fire were set in various places. Indian neem leaves along with the Chinese chaste tree leaves (nochi in Tamil) were added to the fire creating an aroma and smoke to which the mosquitoes were averse to.  Like the chariot festival of Mylapore these pots are taken around the rows of seating in a procession and with the misty smoke in place a full sleeve tops or a thick silk sari as a cover for the upper part too one is sure to enjoy those superior and worthy shows in peace.

Thiruvanmiyur market's vicinity provided me the needed pots and the Chinese chaste tree leaves were collected from the next street. There was no dearth of neem leaves as my house is surrounded by these friendly trees. The needed coal was provided by the iron man aka our street dhobi. Thus equipped, my house was in its incensed glory by the evening and as a further precaution against the minuscule holes I left incense pots each in front of various rooms.

Next day morning my shocked and incensed, husband was raging and fuming. "What sort of silly idea got into your head? You could have set the whole house on fire. What if some stupid person tripped over the pot in darkness? What if a rat or a cat turned turtle over the pot? A little spark is enough to set a disaster show."

Guilt ridden over my moronic and dangerous idea, I hung my head down in shame!

Every show must end with a climax and my mosquito chapter is not the one to lag behind!

 We usually land as a gang on the sabhas of Mylapore for all the programmes after a sumptuous tiffin and coffee at the world famous Karpagammal mess. Thus satiated, the shows became the crowning glory for the day

 Usually as we walk out of the theatre after the show, we could overhear comments from the connoisseurs of the art which are as worthy as that of a great critique. But on that day it was indeed a very different  ball game when an old  Mylaporean was not in a mood for the customary and routine thing of the best and worst of the programme. The lady was chatting with her companion thus. "Usually the foreigners who attend the programmes emanate nice fragrance of perfumes and I enjoy the smell but of late I am scared to pass near them. They smell of our nasty odomos."

Coming back home I shared this with the gang with great merriment.

Should we blame our mosquitoes as the root cause of this evil comment?

Should we blame the inventor of the smelly odomos?

Should we blame our dear friends who believe in a generous splurging of multifarious liquids and sprays whenever they start out of the house?

We had a hell of a laugh over this critical surveillance a cultural paradigm shift worthy of a great research paper!!

The white elephants

Gone are the days when parents lived with children and were the de facto head of the household. As a young child  I still remember my dad and his siblings standing in front of my grandfather reverently and listening to each of his words with fervour. We as grownups used to argue with our father but however upset we were he had the final say. Today's children don't even have the courtesy to stand up when elders came in but continue with their 'cell phone digging' indirectly informing  "you mind your business and I will mind  mine."

The change crept in slowly. Mini  families became the norm. The revolution brought in by the IT industry shrunk the world bringing in plenty of opportunities away from home and the concept of living together had become  a defunct phenomenon.

This is the condition of all the elderly couple  today who happily bequeathed their children to foreign lands. Today when I look around my place  I could see  many aged couple living alone.  The lucky ones known to us  travel abroad every year to spend a six month duration with their children and like the migratory birds fly back to India avoiding the snowy winter.  There is another couple who would love to do the same but they know that the  infights and rumblings  within the family there  would make their stay an uncomfortable one.

This is the story of our friend whose only son was settled comfortably abroad. Atlas the guilt feeling of not having his parents with him cleared from his psyche when he took the decision to bring them to his place. He still remembered the joint family wherein  his grandfather ruled the roost  and for his father and his siblings his words were their ten commandment. Since his spouse loved his parents there was no problem in bringing them to this country on a permanent basis.

As a prelude to this permanent settling down the first invitation went to the parents.

As they entered the house the welcome cake and the hug from the grandchildren  took the grandparents to cloud nine!

"Nice one hour walk on the tree lined the platform. Amma is happy with plentiful trees. The jet lag has completely vanished" the father happily announced  to the son when he returned from his work.

"Good God... appa....  what have you done?" The son was terrified! "You cannot walk like this. This is a dangerous area. Please, heaven forbid, don't do it again. People can show you the gun just to relieve you for a few dollars. I promise to drive  you to the most beautiful green place during the weekend where you can have your heart's content. But till then hold your urge. Don't ever do it again please" The couple was rattled. The chastising tone of their son created a unsavoury tingling within. The freedom of walking in the Besant Nagar beach at any hour of the day and  enjoying the festive mood during Pongal season with Carnatic music concerts from T.M Krishna and the folk dances of our land sitting in the sands and  relaxing in the company of friends prodded them like the waves of Bay of Bengal.

"How is health ma? Are you fine?" the daughter in law affectionately asked her.  The mother in law held her close and said "Nothing serious my dear, except the occasional knee pain and the spondylitis. But don't worry about it. I am doing the right exercises. Appa might be having some prostrate problems but nothing to bother about. We are healthy."

On that particular day the son and daughter in law had a discussion with them regarding their wellness quotient and  wanted to list their maladies in accordance to their urgency. "Amma these small things may develop into serious malady at any point of time." said the son "The  medical system is a  different  one here. You cannot approach a doctor at the drop of the hat. Medicines for ailments like cold or slight stomach ache can be obtained over the counter. But for others we have to have the prescription from the doctor. Not like our place where we can get medicines over the counter on the advice of the pharmacist. I still remember your uterus operation which was fixed over two days! Such things are near impossible here. Unless it is an  emergency you have to wait in queue for any procedure. So let us make a list of all the ailments irrespective of their minor and major nature.  It is better for us to know about your health problems."

The son's tone was somber. As the father and mother glanced at each other and the mother was reminded of a joke they both enjoyed. A patient came to a doctor with body pain. The doctor gave him medicine for a week to be consumed thrice daily before food and  asked him not stop his walks and regular exercises. After a week the man came back to him happily." It was indeed a wonder drug doctor. I am perfectly fine . I would like to know the name of the medicine." The doctor smiled and said " My dear friend  it is just a placebo, more like a glucose tablet."  The man went back and after ten days was back to the doctor. " Doctor please give me some good medicine, my body pain is back again." Similarly getting into the prestigious medical list of the son and daughter in law  our minor ailments can assume a superior status psychologically  and  is going to bother us day in and day out." they thought and walked towards their room in a confused state.

"Amma loves yam fry and appa loves seven vegetable avial. Am I right amma? "the daughter in law asked.  Caressing her affectionately amma concurred.

"My wife is a great cook ma... You will witness the same  when you and appa gain weight." the son said laughingly

As they listed out the gravies and vegetables  and their preferred way of cooking the parents were delighted with the children's care and concern.

For the weekly purchase all of them landed in a hyper market. The parents who were rare visitors our Chennai super markets couldn't comprehend the concept of hyper market!  It was a mind boggling monstrosity, a huge city by itself The milk shelf which was a mile long was teaming with so many varieties that our Aavin brand with its measly  three grades had to put down its head down in shame they thought.

“Can you get me something to drink? I am tired of the hyper market visit." said appa. " I too need one." said amma. We didn't even lift a single straw in that place but still my back is throbbing." holding her waist she walked towards the kitchen. In there the husband and wife were busy cooking.

"Are you expecting some guests today? You are cooking for a wedding!" she exclaimed.

"No amma this is the cooking for the whole week. We refer to the list you preferred  and cook the lot and keep them in the freezer on a day to day system. " the daughter in law said

"There is no time for cooking everyday amma..." her son said supportively. "Both of us are on high flying job and there is also the children's education and hobbies to take care of."

"Don't worry amma the food will be as fresh as the one you prepare at home. We have a separate freezer to store the food."

The lady was taken aback. For her the  healthy way of consuming food is within half an hour of cooking.

"On weekends  we can go out and eat in Indian restaurants amma."

It was a chorus of pacification for her stunned silence!

Sitting inside the air conditioned house taking the lunch out of the freezer and microwave it was not their routine. They love their little garden wherein they can collect the greens for lunch and buy vegetables from the vendor every morning.

The highly paid servant maid who had her own set of house keys  came in her own vehicle and  pressing the entry button she went  through the cleaning process like a robot and as her work was over she pressed the exit button. For her time is money; every single minute is converted into money and there is no time to have tête-à-tête  with them oldies except  to say hi and bye!  They missed the simple joy of listening to their servant maid back home. In spite of  her umpteen number of problems and headaches she never forgot to bring them her meter long luscious drumsticks now and then  that proliferated in front of her hut and her loving commanding tone to make a sambar with it !! They would laugh talking about the late Cuban president Fidel Castro who was convinced that the drumstick tree is the friend of the poor, a great multi vitamin tablet and that he sent one of his trusted men to South India to bring back the seeds and plants. That might be the reason why God hath blessed the slum area trees with abundance of fruits!

"This indeed is a different world with a diverse value system. We may not fit into this programmed routine ."they thought. "The statement that  " We are going to America or England " could have made our friends and neighbours think that we are a lucky lot and the fortunate ones to enjoy the riches with the affectionate son's family in the far away land. That we can watch  all our favourite channels and watch favourite movies on Amazon Fires tick and Netflix is not  what we wanted. 

The daughter in law and son hurrying out in the morning and the children having  time just to say 'hi and bye' to you  was not what they anticipated." The human touch is missing! In this  robotic system this precious element is a redundant one. In this  unemotional comfort zone  we are the useless white elephants psychologically waiting for the pains to burst into a major illness. There was synchronicity in the couple's deliberations.

The father ached for his  simple dhoti which he could fold up his knee to have comfortable walk. And both yearned for a dress sans sweaters.

The last time I met them they were on the Besant Nagar beach entertaining our  gang with their foreign adventures and that day's laughter was indeed their precious contribution !

Of medicines and its extremities

The visiting hour in the hospital was very tight especially in the ICU. And the procedures to enter into that sanctum sanctorum was equivalent to visiting a hard core prisoner. You remove your sandals wear the socks provided  put on the face mask and wait in an enclosed space for the precious call from the nurse....

"Remember your time is just two minutes.. ok" she orders you and  you nod your head like a sacrificial lamb!

 I was thoroughly nonplussed as I entered in. There in lay a man with tubes hanging from both his hands attached to bottles of various liquids, rhyles tube going through the nose and many more emanating from the sides with the helmet like apparatus covering his face.

"Is he the person whose silent hearty welcome multiplied the joy of entering his house?" I wondered.

His children were waiting outside determined to save their dad by hook or crook. Or are they playing in the hands of the cunning hospital whose sweet talk and assurance make you believe that the best of the best is happening there? Is he used as the guinea pig to the numerous advanced medical apparatus and instruments the hospital boasts of? The vulnerability of the near and dear ones is thoroughly manipulated  to keep their cash machine ticking. But  I know this was not the time to reason out with them. I docilely nodded my head as they requested my prayers.

The advancement in medical field which promises the elderly with a brand new life lures, the cash rich over enthusiastic, affectionate children to go to any extent to put their parents back to normal and the greedy hospitals take advantage of this attitude. In addition the advertisements of happy elderly in various postures of before and after treatment beguiles the elders too into these costly hospital ventures!  They are forced to undergo various unwanted tests and put through umpteen number of machines just to keep the hospital cash machine ticking. After all today's hospitals operate on a corporate model and maximising the profit becomes the ultimate goal.

Acceptance of old age with minimal essentials necessary for a maintenance mode does not suffice the human mind. Greed for greener postures of youth is eternal that we seek and the seeking never ever gets satisfied!

I still remember as a child when the elderly sick people in my village were put in the airy back shed of the house where an assistant took care of the his daily needs and at nights people in the street took turns to give company entertaining him with tall stories. We children used to accompany the group till sleep overtook us! The Buddhist concept of death as a natural part, a smooth and peaceful process was well understood then.

My cousin in the village is 80 plus. One day  when he got up from bed he was feeling giddy and had to hold on to the pillar nearby and was in that position for some time and as it subsided he took his morning cold water bath and washed his clothes and got ready fortified by his morning tea, the elixir vitae to warm the cockles, and he was up  on his tractor like a king! "Give the body  time to balance and it would do the automatic correction." was his simple logic! He staunchly believes in the saying   "Take medicine you can be cured of cold in a week. Without medicine it may take seven days!"

His city grown wife who was witness to this show was the one who worried her head off compelling him to go to the nearby hospital since she knew he was diabetic!

There is a saying in my village " If you are having fever just take a dip into the Pappakulam tank and everything goes off in a jiffy." And believe me even today there are umpteen number  who would vouch on the curative power of those waters!! The Buddhist philosophy that life is a natural smooth and peaceful process is operative in full swing at my place.

There are many sensible people in the cities too who never put their parents through the tortuous process of medicating. When their mother's kidney functions started failing in one of our relative's family her eleven children gathered together to make the crucial decision of whether to put her through the painful process of dialysis or leave her to carry on a normal life with medicines. Opinions were many and varied but at the end they concurred to leave her alone than to let her go through the agonising procedure. Along with the children living closely  those living in  faraway lands too made sure that they gave her company spreading  plenty of the positive vibrations around her.

One of my friends,  who was taking care of her mother who is a cancer patient with a heart condition and high sugar as an accompaniment, shared with me about her mother’s attitude "She loves her sweets  and we give it to her and she is happy back at home and even asks me to go back to my house in Chennai and not worry about her".. And giving her chemotherapy is impossible. "Providing   the comfort zone  is the best thing we can offer to her" she said " I am planning to take my daughter to  her place or I may even bring her to Chennai for a change."

Becoming the custodians of elders' medical and dietary needs cannot follow researched recommendations beyond a point. Giving an overall  space they prefer to have and the love emanating from the heart matters a lot in making  their life an enjoyable  and complete!

When one of my friends  took VRS (voluntary Retirement for Service) from his lucrative government job I know that a remunerative job was in the anvil in  any one of the private concerns since expertise in his chosen field was a well-known fact.

"Have you applied for a job?" I asked him over a pep talk.

"Yes madam." he said happily." I am having the best job in the world. I am taking care of my elderly mother." A blessed mother indeed!! A visit to his house proved that the frail smiling lady was never taken to the hospital and spends her time with the family especially her devoted son  amidst various oils and balms and herbal concoctions!

Let us also be part of this  beautiful process and try not to play God!

The Boon From Heaven

Those were the good old days when the word  'beauty parlour' was absent in the dictionary and Thesaurus  of  Indian minds and friends and neighbours chipped in whenever there was a necessity to deck up a girl! On that auspicious day when the bride-viewing was happening to one of our friends, we were present in her house in full strength to display our enviable background.

As  we entered the house it was her grandma who accorded  us a very cautious  welcome. "Girls please stick to your place inside  the room and never ever step into the hall on any pretext lest the bridegroom tends to choose one of you."  She indeed tried to hide the intensity of her admonition with her smiling face.   We dropped our idea like hot coal to accompany the would-be the bride to the viewing point. Experience should have taught that grand lady some good life lessons!

The groom's party was satisfied with the family and the girl but for a  single condition. “It is your choice that you allowed your daughter to work but we don't want that to happen when she gets married and come to our house. We want an educated girl to manage the children well and our prestige would be hurt if we send her out to earn." However, wounding the statement was to the bride's side it was humbly accepted of course without waiting for any consent from the girl.

The same thing happened to me when I had to resign my government job in the Ladies college at Kumbakonam. But it was circumstances that made me give up my job. My would be husband was working at Rajahmundry and I moved along.  The society thoroughly approved it!

The case with my another friend was entirely different.  The instant her wedding invitation reached the hands of the nuns who were running the school she had to put in her papers too! I still wonder whether the nuns did it out of reverence for the  sanctity of  marriage  that made them have this  unwritten constitutional rule or was it their selfish  motive that the school should run smoothly without any headache of a married woman which means pregnancy, childbirth, long absence from work and plenty of  short ones whenever there was a problem. The nuns were  sure of their Bible words "No man (woman in this context)  can serve two masters". This created a situation in the school wherein the staunch spinsters along with the nuns ruled the roost while the rest of the lot was considered as flotsam and jetsam and treated as such.

In due course the group of women who had to resign their job with marriage became a minority " If a man can continue to work after his marriage why not a woman? If people in the government jobs continued in the service after their marriage why not them?  There was no government ruling which said that they have to resign the job once they get married." was their defiant attitude. They fought with the school authorities and regained their lost posts. This insolent group included my dear friend too. The dispensable human resource metamorphosed into a powerhouse.

But my friend's slavery continued in other ways. The household chores combined with the regular job became a double whammy for her and whenever there was a complaint from the wife about her joint family existence, the noncooperation from various members of the clan and the casual reply from her husband was " You know about my family. I have explained my situation as soon as we got married. But it is you who insisted on working. I didn't compel you to go for a job. It is your choice and now you have to grin and bear it and even today you are welcome to give it up." This off-hand reply hurt her self-esteem of which the man never bothered. The rest of the family too treated her primarily as a duty-bound housewife.

The sinister sisters-in-law never lost a chance to put her down. Her mother in law in her prestige never acknowledged her as a breadwinner like the sons, in spite of the fact that her whole salary went into the common kitty!  She grumbled when she had to manage the child for a few minutes if the maid was late. "What sort of mother is she? Never caring for her own. But she does she ever forget to deck up every morning and with her handbag hanging on the shoulder makes a show of herself in the street." In spite of the abuses conservatism and the jealousy, the daring heroic woman of the era persisted and pulled along!

And lo behold it was the IT industry which created a revolution jolting the social system topsy-turvy! The implied superiority of men and their male chauvinism went down the drain and women literally broke the glass ceiling which had suffocated them for eons in varied forms. They were hurt, humiliated, laughed at, but were determined that the sky only could be their only limit! The equally high pay packet had given them economic independence and with it came the accompanying change in the male attitude. The paradigm shift was happening! 

The time had come for my friend to look out for a bride for her only son.  The girl was from a known family where goodness and Godliness was the treasure trove valued more than material riches. The girl from there was a boon from heaven.  For her part, my friend made sure that the girl went to her job with a happy heart. Happiness overflowed in abundance in that joint family till the day the girl was called upon to take a better position in a foreign land. None in the family had the audacity to ask her to stay back, nor did the girl oblige them by asking their opinions about her placement. Would her male chauvinist husband of yesteryear ever have consented for such a  situation? But the girl right royally took it as her birthright.   Settling down comfortably in her new job in a new place she was clever enough to obtain a good position for her husband too!

My friend was ferocious over the phone. " That girl took away my son, my only son, from me.  What comfort did she lack in India that she had to go to a foreign land?  she had everything she wanted at the beck and call ... she had all the love and affection. The dominating girl had pulled away from my only son. It should have been her plan all through." She was in tears.

"But you can always go visit them." I tried to console her. My statement made her even angrier.

"Look at the audacity of the girl to throw crumbs at us...... I don't want the visiting right to my son. I want him...... I want him and I want him. I want my son to stay "

I cannot argue with this possessive lady. She is just like her mother in law who ill-treated her and abused her just because she worked. But my friend a revolutionary during her prime could not comprehend the phenomenal change and understand that her perceptions has to transform itself to adjust to the new era. I am sure that she would be thankful for small mercies when she observes how many modern high tech families are getting destroyed by the obnoxious ego between the partners and of course their ill-conceived love of possessive parents.

Believing in the comprehensive goodness in that family, I will definitely wait for her next call when she would be happily announcing about their impending visit to her son's place.

Time has its own healing power.

The clash of the Titans

My father in law was all enthusiastic about the arrival of his first grandson in law, a foreigner. On the day before he went to the best of bakeries in Madras for the best of breads, salted butter and jam. At breakfast he was elucidating the superior quality of the bread, the one and only Kissan jam (Is he carrying coal to New castle? I wondered) and how Amul butter was the best in the world produced by a ladies' cooperative and a successful one at that. Out of courtesy the man listened carefully to these microscopic explanations.  But when grandpa buttered the toast and spread the jam and kept it on his plate it proved to be the last straw on the camel's back and his grandson in law  authoritatively asked "But where is my dosa and sambar?"

My father in law was in ecstasy when he heard those words and  he ran to the  kitchen to give  instruction to the cook on how to make a perfect crispy dosa, in spite her well known expertise in the field!

"Our idli / dosa are the best food and no doubt that he likes it." he said to himself."

Each of the three dosas he consumed were properly scrutinised and quality checked before he brought it to the table!

He was further  astonished when he used his fingers to dip the dosa in sambar and relish his breakfast!

"He could still use all his four fingers in this process instead of just the two!" He thought to himself and  determined to teach him the  perfect art of dosa eating before he went back to his country!!

"I don't understand why your grandpa should stand near me throughout my meal? Makes me uneasy. He could sit with me and have his food" the  grandson in law pathetically said

 “Athithi devo bhava" you silly......" my daughter smilingly said to her hubby.  "A guest to the house is the personification of God himself. Do we sit with God while we pray? For the guest, especially a new comer, the nuances of the food and the manner in which it should be consumed had to be explained  and whenever the plate becomes empty it had to be filled up to the brim and that's the way we affectionately take care of our guests."

The man was flabbergasted...... "Grandpa observes my every single gulp! Sitting there I feel like a hard core prisoner being overseen at every single step!" he was lamenting.

 This uneasiness of the guest had to be subtly explained to grandpa lest that gentle and caring soul got hurt!

The man was also in wonderment to observe our carbohydrate over loaded  breakfasts lunches and dinners.  Apart from the morning idli / dosa  the lunch and  dinner consist of rice with sambar, rice with rasam and rice with curd!

While he was awestruck with this starchy consumption of us Indians we were equally amazed by his ways and it was indeed a cultural experience for us the south Indians!

It is true that our everyday staple diet rice plays a royal role in it is various culinary avatars. But lo behold  this precious granule was converted by this foreign soul  into a binding medium similar to the soldering iron used by our precious technical team to bind various electronic components into the pc (printed circuit) board in our  factory. Two spoons of rice in the centre of the plate was combined with the carrot and beans porial, the snake gourd kootu, sambar, fish curry and prawns gravy. We the people who had some experience in varied cultures were stunned by this amalgamation. At this juncture our daughter made sure that her grandpa a ,stickler to the etiquettes of rice eating, respected the LOC (line of control) especially, the one between India and Pakistan never ever entered the dining space during his meals!! 

On a particular day as we sat down to eat our son in law  was sitting hesitantly in his seat.

 "Are you ok? Or would you like to eat later?" I asked him

It was natural that I was worried since the amount of sambar, vegetables, fish gravy and prawns etc, he consumed in proportion to the rice was in the ratio of 90:10   which could upset the stomach lining of even a normal Indian.

"No ma.." he said "My plate is wet. Can I have a napkin please?"

 While it is sacrosanct for us to rewash our plates before each meal lest we carry some dust, a wet plate is a sacrilegious one in their culture!!

 I had observed this when I visited their place for the first time but was unhappy with their way of cleansing.

The plates and other vessels which were soaked in soap water were taken out straight from sink and wiped with a towel! They wipe and wipe again till all the vessels were bone dry!!  (It was the case with the whole country) What happens to the other half of washing with clean water?  I couldn't fathom. I wished I could  clean at least plates with water but contain my urge lest I offend their hygiene code! Luckily for me the dish washer, a new kitchen utility, a wonder gadget entered into the house that which rinsed and cleansed  water sprayed the vessels and dried  them too.

This  concepts of 'dryness' applies to not just to the plates and vessels but equally to their toilets too. In those carpeted toilets the water is available just inside the flush tank and not a drop to be seen anywhere else. The toilet roll is the thing that welcomes you majestically from wall mounted roller, which Indian sensibilities refuses to accept. Water washed in copious amount was the norm. So I tend to bring a mug full of water (on the sly) from the bath room and complete the action making sure that not a drop spilt on their 'dry' carpet. I was aching for my health faucet in that foreign land.

A miracle happened then! When our son in law extended his house he made sure that we had a wet toilet, a health faucet et al.  He too fancied that wonderful contraption and when he was in India, he took one back to be part of his wet toilet.

In thankful reciprocation we make sure of dry plates whenever he is in India!

The  foreigners  make a fine differentiation between the containers in which they drink coffee and tea. They call it 'coffee mug' and 'tea cup'.  We South Indians  are addicted to decoction coffee and use dabara and tumbler to savour it and  if there is a preference for tea by anyone, it is also served in a similar tumbler minus the dabara.

Our man a connoisseur of coffee prefers a  restaurant in our  neighbourhood.  While he loved the strong coffee served there he couldn't understand the miniscule quantity served in a  tumbler and dabara.  His coffee mug at home is considerably big  and to balance out the contents he would order at least three coffees to the wonderment of us the locals. He also loves doing 'the one yard coffee processing' that everyone does between their tumbler and dabara. But to  the servers and the neighbouring diners the man was a revelation.

Cultures differ, they clash, they are heckled, the superiority of one's own dominates  each one's mind. 

But human emotions are similar globally. The love and affection for anything Indian and admiration for Indian fine arts the attachment to his own Indian family by this dear person is far beyond words and he would go extra miles to retain and relish it!

We too for our part reciprocate these gestures with our own value addition,

"Aththi Devo Bhava" ………………

A Bodhi Tree in Our School

The wood jasmine filled the school ground  with its heady fragrance and toddlers were picking them up to learn simple math.  The multifarious aroma of opened lunch boxes mingling with this scent created an unusual yet a lovable ambiance. While some students preferred the veranda  the majority ran towards the shady trees filling their bottles from the RO plant of the school to share the joy of lunch with friends. The crowd under peepal tree was one  among these groups. Their teacher had told them that this tree is venerated throughout India. It is the king among trees giving out maximum oxygen during the day. The reverberations from this beautiful tree when the breeze passes through the leaves is  similar to the laughter of innocent children!!

"Auntie miss.... auntie miss... please come and see our tree please please..." Raising their lunch steeped hands up the  peepal tree gang eagerly beckoned a lady.  'Auntie miss' the creator of the school, the prime value giver and a great sculptor moulding the younger generation was on her usual rounds, an event eagerly anticipated by the children big and small. The lady was all in smiles when she looked up! The tender red leaves of the peepal tree  were peeking out as the old ones had withered  away!

"Are you taking care of your tree?"

"Yes miss.... yes miss..... we pour water every day before we go home" was the chorus

"Fine.... fine..... have you brought some vegetables, greens and pulses for lunch?"

Auntie miss had become a nutritionist now!!

"Except Nithya who has brought some chips."

"It is ok for a day Nithya..... Can you ask mother to make some vegetable or greens daily?"

"Sure miss... she is not keeping well........cough and cold miss ....and she couldn't cook much today."

"Oh what a pity!! Take some adathoda (justicia adathoda)  leaves from our herbal garden and ask her to boil the leaves and take the  concoction thrice daily along with palm sugar........" The palm sugar  will give the brew a better taste and it is also good for cold. Can you take the permission to go the herbal garden please?"

"Miss......  adathoda plants are  growing near our house."

"That is better Nithya. Please give my regards to your mother ."

"Sure miss, thank you miss....." The rapport between the teachers and the students is  pleasantly contagious in nature!

Of the hundreds of trees in the school  this peepal tree occupied a vantage location. Teachers loved to conduct classes under its shade. The yoga mistress enjoyed the location for exercise and meditation!

As days went by  the peepal tree in accordance to the nature's call started the process of shedding . But the children observed a change in the way  the leaves fell. It  happened  too  fast and the tender red leaves failed to appear.....   and in  no time the tree turned bare!! Their luncheon location  had to be shifted to the nearby neem tree! The peepal was indeed going through a metamorphosis of thinning. The children were worried. Auntie miss was called to the spot and she could also feel the change.

"May be it is affected by TB  miss. It has become a skeleton" said one of the boys. "My grandfather was  just skin and bone when he had TB but became ok after taking medicine for 6 months. Can  I ask my father  to get the same medicine for our tree?"

The other boys laughed at this suggestion .

"We should regularly pour water in the morning and in the evening."

"Red soil would help."

"How about fertilizers?"

"Fertilizers are chemicals. We will go for cow dung."

"Vermicompost is the best."

The ideas were many and varied.

 Next day morning   the arrival of a bullock cart  to the school surprised the  children !

The parent who accompanied it was met my auntie miss.

"My boy wouldn't stop his pestering till I loaded my cart with cow dung manure." He laughed and unloaded the contents.

Bags of red soil arrived.

The vermicompost prepared at school  was thrown in the pit dug around the peepal tree!

The panchgavya,  a special preparation to enrich the soil, was gifted to the school by a parent!

The children standing  around the tree held their hands together and closed their eyes in fervent prayer.

The intention was a focused one even though the end result was zilch!

The teachers were indeed touched by this act of faith!

They suggested "We will uproot the remains of the tree and plant a new one in its place during the beginning of the summer holidays and when the children come back for the new school year they could at least see  a tree coming up." We were there in the school during that summer. My sister who is the correspondent (auntie miss)  said   "Lord Tennyson is right. 'More things are wrought by prayer than the world dreams of.'

We were anxious to know the context of such statement. 

'Has the vast amount of outstanding  fee collection had come into the school kitty?' We wondered!

 "I want to give you a surprise ." So saying she pulled us to the school ground.

"My peepal tree has sprouted new leaves. My children's faith had indeed given the tree a new life!!"  We witnessed that wonder tree  along with the interesting story behind the show narrated by my sister!

 On November 16th 2018  the  newspapers were full of the devastation the Gaja cyclone caused in the delta region of Tamil Nadu.  I called up my sister.

"Are you ok? The news says that Trichy is not much affected."

"I am in the school..... It is a sight no one would want to see. Thirty  trees have fallen down and our peepal tree is one among them..." She was  on the verge of tears.

I too was depressed. Years of effort by the school administrator ( my sister's husband) had indeed filled the area with greenery and it would  take  years  to replace them. I was also worried about the children's reaction regarding the peepal tree when they come back to school from the cyclone holidays.

The 'auntie miss' had indeed prepared a philosophic speech for the day. In the school assembly on the opening day she said  the loss of trees is nothing compared to the damage the Gaja cyclone had  caused to thousands of people who  have  no roof over their heads and bereft of  all their possessions  were hungry and thirsty. The children indeed did their best by bringing in sacks of food articles and clothes. The parents and the teachers  chipped in. Even though it was not a rich school and most of the students belonged to the lower middle class their spirit of sharing made it possible to fill a full lorry load!

She comforted the children especially those who cared  and believed and brought the peepal tree back to life.

"Auntie miss....." one among the boys hesitantly started " Why don't we try to replant our peepal tree again please?"

"Try what...... my boy?"

"We will pull the roots inside, bring it to upright position and try our best miss..... Let us not lose hope please ."  That single voice became a slogan. The parents brought in strong ropes and the gang of energetic youngsters slowly and gently brought the peepal  back to its position.

My sister though admired the faith in the children kept her fingers crossed.

The other day there was a photo in our school Facebook page, wherein I saw the smiling face of my sister with a few new leaves from the peepal tree as the back drop. She called me up to say

"The peepal tree and my children are my Bodhi tree. 'Focus, Belief and Action' are the pearls of wisdom which would be my lode star and my revelation written down in indelible ink in my heart by my children! "Even over the phone I could feel her great energy flowing