Make a Mountain Out of a Mole Hill

The lady of the house was grumbling. A born germaphobia her superior level of housekeeping was indeed a failure with the servant maids. With her dubious attitude towards modern cleaning equipment, she perpetually reminisced about the good old days of shiny floors, clean toilets, spotless kitchen and hand washed sun-dried fresh smelling clothes. Her big joint family cooking of those days, though it involved plenty shelling, cutting, grating and boiling frying etc., the kitchen was as good as the Chinese ones with its neatness never compromised. Of late her health problems had compelled her to take a back seat and hence her ever active germaphobia antennae had now turned to a fountainhead of annoyance and irritation and high blood pressure.  Over years the master of the house got used his wife's 'OCD' (obsessive compulsive disorder) but lately her frailty had altered her grumblings into unending litany of woes.

An idea was brewing in her mind from the moment one of her husband's friend who moved to a place for retired people visited them. Like Shah Jahan, the Moghul king, who visited Kashmir for the first time turned into a poet describing it "If there be a paradise on earth it is this it is this none but this!".  This friend too was on cloud nine eulogizing the beauty and serenity of the place!  Spic and span, good food, doctors at your beck and call, hugh hospital in the vicinity, swimming pool, gym, very beautiful walk way amidst greenery and salubrious climate. "Have we missed the greatest opportunity of life?" The lady wondered! She definitely wanted to be part of that heavenly experience 'far from the madding crowd' which was bent upon aggravating her senses. The master of the house was also inclined to this proposal and called his friend one day.

"I am coming to the town and will drop in on the way" His friend said to him.

"Enjoying life in the comforts of home? Lucky people, both of you!!" The friend said as he entered.

"What do you say man? You are the blessed one living in the paradise!" the man hugged his friend.

"Paradise? My left foot toe......."

"What happened? Some minor problem?" He was philosophic." It does happen everywhere my friend.......    For a long time, we both were contemplating about moving on to an apartment in your place. You are always a great company and we can gossip about our good old college days, our carrom tournament where you monopolised the winner's trophy invariably putting me ever into the second place. the three-day walking trip to Ooty, the half marathon we ran for the sake of glucose and fruit juice......... now again let us open a new era!" While the man was all enthusiasm the listener's expression was all glum.

His silence was indeed deafening. A little probing from his side made his friend pour out his heart

"It was indeed heaven. The place was cozy relaxing, peaceful and we enjoyed living there till one morning I got up to a loud hammering sound.  As I opened the door, I saw our compound wall being broken giving me a mega jolt! The confused lot of us who came out running asked the men to drop whatever they were doing to which they replied it was an order from the builder and if ever they had any query, they better approach him and continued with their job. After umpteen number of calls the builder replied that he was constructing two apartments on either side of our apartment. It was for their own better safety. After the work was over, he promised to erect the compound again."

"Did he keep up his promise?"  to which his friend sarcastically replied " Indeed.......Yes indeed."

"Don't be a cynic. what happened? Was the reconstruction up to the mark?"

"That cunning fellow had constructed the compound encompassing all the three apartments."

" Really my friend...... I don't find anything wrong with that provided he had a larger group of security people at vulnerable points."

"I wish that mongrel of the man was as innocent as you are. His greed was a limitless ocean. The builder who had collected money separately for all the external conveniences from them hath indeed made all these facilities common informing that all these two apartment blocks are the annex of our original one and hence a common facility would be adequate. But legally they were not annexes but separate blocks. And not just that he had collected huge amount for external facilities of these blocks but compromised by making our facilities a common one. The whole area would look like a crowded park and the swimming pool would resemble like the Marina beach front in Chennai. We decided to take this man to task and formed an association for our block and sent him a notice putting down all our grievances. The builder never bothered to reply. Then we sent another one informing him that we would take him to court. Now the builder started his psychological warfare. He very well knew that the people living there are retired and old with most of their children settled abroad.  They don't have the physical strength and the mental stamina to do it on their own or expect their children to take up their grievances and fight a case. The children’s visit India was mostly short stay, therefore the builder resorted to easy method of frightening them. One fine day the office holders of the association found that the water and power supply to their apartments were cut off and the cleaning service stopped. He was coercing the others to sign a petition that the office holders are acting against law. He also made threatening calls so that we might sell off our flats cheaply and scoot!

I came to know that our class mate's son is in a high position and I called him up to explain our problems. He indeed pacified me and said that he would rectify these temporary problems for now and take me to his close friend who is a reputed lawyer who could sort out problems without much ado.

Now I would like to take leave. Wish me all the best." so saying the man from our imagined paradise walked off with a heavy heart.

The couple was dumbfounded.  How deceptive was the outward appearance? They wondered! The pastures are indeed greener on the other side of the fence!

Compared to the mental agony of their friend, their problems were just crumbs!

The cheating that happened at Marudhu apartment in Kochi and the owners helplessly standing out with their children and luggage revealed to them the greediness of few people who were avaricious to make money by hook or crook.

The collapse of eleven floor apartment under construction at Mouliwakkam in Chennai four or five years ago flashed back in their mind. Those who invested in them were indeed middle-class people whose life-long ambition was to have a roof over their head. Many had heart attacks and many more became debtors for life!

The couple indeed decided to delve deep to sort out their problems which they considered as minor now. Let us not be fussy about modern utility machines. Let us believe that washing machine indeed cleans the clothes well and floor cleaning equipment does its job well. When we cannot cook, Swiggy, Zomato, etc. are at our beck and call A day's hotel food is not going to spoil our stomach. It might be expensive in comparison. But whom do we save the money for? Our children don't need it. If any of the servant asks for money in between the month let us happily give it and we can afford to forget about it. They are sincere to us and let this middle of the month pay-out be a little donation. Let us use just a single toilet and open the rest when guests come.

 And last of all, there is a standing invitation from both our children to come and live with them when we cannot run the show.

"We indeed possess a greatest gift of life that no amount of money can buy- The peace of mind! Why at all make mountain out of a mole hill?!" With this philosophic mindset, the old couple led a content life.

Ancient Systems Die Hard

"I have passed my B.com in first class sir." Handing over his certificate file a young man was standing with his folded hands in front of the finance head of the organisation (the interviewer) for a job interview."

"what is your math mark in SSLC?"

"98% sir."

"Where did the two marks go?"

"Sir.... a silly mistake sir."

"If you had done the mental sums the two marks would be yours.

" Sorry sir"

By the way where did you study?"

He mentioned the name of his school.

"Oh, is it? Then who was your math teacher?"

As the boy mentioned the teacher's name, the interviewer’s ever-serious countenance blossomed like an early morning lotus! He knew that with the man around one can be assured of a strong foundation in the subject! 

"Now you go to the corner table and write the first paragraph from any one of the books on the shelf. Use the one side paper stacked in a folder. Do you follow me?"

" Yes sir, very much sir" the boy replied and rushed to the corner.

 When he handed over the paper the man had a seemingly satisfied look and asked him to sit. The legibility test though not up to his mark was plausible

Then a session on his mathematical prowess started solemnly!

"You have to strengthen your math man"

"Yes sir, sure sir" the job seeker said earnestly.

"Do you know that the long additions, subtractions, multiplications and divisions  would  be considerable in the finance department and a difference by a digit can cause a big loss to the company?"

"I will be extremely careful sir, will always double check, sir."

" That is not enough, Critical accounts should be referred to me always."

" Will definitely do it sir"

" And now how is your speed with the type writer?"

"Fifty to seventy words per minute, sir "

"Zero error?"

"Sometimes I commit mistake, sir."

"You have to increase your speed and wasting paper is a sin."

"I understand sir."

"I will have a word with the MD regarding your appointment but continuous improvement should be your motto."

"I will try my best, sir."

You might be wondering what sort of funny interview is this?

Just as we need to know the etymology of the subjects we research; this dialogue is the founding stone for our modern-day financial practices! Today we will delve deep into it!

On the very first day the finance head slapped his forehead when the boy showed him the long unruled note book with lines drawn. "Is it an account note book or the zigzag Darjeeling railway line?" The boy was shivering in his pants at this thunderous voice! He knew that the lines he drew were not perfect.

"Have you ever observed your mother drawing kolam every morning making perfect squares and circles rectangles and umpteen number of equal curves without any ruler or compass? Here you have the rulers and rollers and yet such an immature job."

The boy could not make a proper catch of the book thrown at him.

"Use the scale and make a pencil mark at the top and bottom of each column before you draw the line. First draw the lines with the pencil and make sure the lines are perfect and then use the red pen. Now listen carefully as I give you the measurements for various columns:

For serial number 1/2 " Date 1 3/4" Description 3"and divide the rest of the space into three equal columns for the amount received spent and balance sum. Can you space it rightly?"

"Yes sir.... I am sorry sir for my shoddy work"

Just a grunt turned out to be his reply!

And for his part the man wore many hats with élan! Even his hand drawn lines were perfect. He took pride in remembering hundreds of phone numbers by heart and could get connected at the drop of the hat while his minions rummaged around the alphabetical phone diaries presented annually! His type writer a Remington was a thing of beauty which he treasured! And his gentle handling of the machine the speed and the impeccable work was the talk of the town. Any paper used on one side is used for rough work.  "Waste not and want not" was the golden rule in his arena!

 A full-page addition to the naya paisa was flawlessly done in a jiffy. The everyday closing of petty cash was a meticulous. He knew by heart the sundry creditors and the amount they owe to the organisation! The monthly balance sheet counter balanced to the last paisa might seem to be a minor victory to lesser men but never ever to this enigma.

Like the saying goes "Charity begins at home" his financial expertise had its beginning right from his home front! His monthly salary was earnestly partitioned into various thick envelopes with the type of expense written in bold letters. The top partition of his wooden shelf consisted of umpteen number of pigeon holes with lockers and in went these various envelopes beginning with children's education and ending with the one for exigencies which might on some years turn out to be his savings to take the family out on an annual trip!

It was indeed a strenuous job for the boy to work under this perfectionist! But he knew that with him at the top he was assured of a bright future! But there were many who took flight unable to tolerate this autocracy!

Too many changes crept into the department slowly yet steadily. For one, the account notebooks, long and short with appropriate columns became available in the shops!

"I am freed from the shackles of perfect lines and ensuing humiliation" the young man rejoiced!!

"Making people lazy." the perfectionist mumbled

Then one fine day another change hit him like the bolt from the blue when his MD entered the room with a small machine which he said was going to ease his job a lot!! Thus, a machine called calculator entered the department to the joy of all and sundry except our financial head! It was indeed an ego clash!! He couldn't believe that a hand held thing can do such an enormous work in no time! Like the doubting Thomas of the Bible, he manually calculated and verified the answers pelted out by the machine!! His expertise which consumed minutes was a second's job for this dumb machine.

  "The future generation's mental ability would lose its sheen with this useless machine around!" he grumbled. He was sure that it would turn them to useless zombies!

In due course the account note books and the calculators multiplied in numbers becoming accepted members of the department.

It was in the year 1987 a computer entered into our MD's room in all its regalia! Forgetting any protocol, the whole office peeped in just to have a look at the marvel machine!!

We were sitting open mouthed when the computer specialist, who addressed us, pelted out its unbelievable capabilities.

When he told that with this wonder machine around, we Indians no longer need to worry about our spellings and grammar with its auto correction system. We locals who were afraid of this 'phoren' language and bore the brunt of caustic remarks from the higher-ups gave out a sigh of relief.

When he mentioned that it was capable of zipping in hundreds and hundreds of files, the steno jumped with joy. Sorting out the papers into assorted files consumed plenty of her time before she closed shop for the day.

When he declared that quotations, vouchers, invoices etc.  once created need not be typed again for a mistake, but with a bit of deletions and additions it can be recreated 'n' number of times, the finance, the commercial and the HR assistances joined the steno in jumping with joy, except for our finance head!

There was plenty of bonus specially for the finance department

Gone would be the days the time wasted for drawing perfect lines.

The erasers, assortment of rulers and pens would become museum pieces.

Calculations with the help of calculators would become thing of the past.

The machine generously allowed a selection of all the rainbow VIBGYOR and its combo colours which was at their disposal at the click of a button! 

As the man continued stuttering out the magical might of the machine, the head of finance laughed sarcastically and when he vouched that one day their office would become a paperless one, he was willing to label him a big bluffer.

The organisation had indeed metamorphosed more than the computer specialist prophesied.

Things were indeed moving very fast! Every one watched in wonderment when the gargantuan sized computers in the department became individualistic to occupy each cubicle and further mutated to sit in the laps.

Our man sitting in his chair was contemplative. His memories wound back to his childhood days in the village when a spread of well sieved sand was the normal writing pad at his school. Slates and slate pencils were beyond the reach of many.  For these school children the greatest amazement was watching his dad sitting in the verandah of his house which was adjacent to the school and writing in a paper with a thing called pen! They watched in wonderment as his dad sat at his low desk dipping the wooden pen in and out and in and out of the ink bottle! They even used to bet how long a single dip of ink could go!!

When he got his first fountain pen our man proudly exhibited the same to the excited villagers including his dad!

Days went by and that particular day was very special to him when he placed his first salary envelope at the feet of his parents along with a fountain pen, an unique gift to his dad.

The delighted dad gave the envelope to his mother and as he held the pen in hand he said " What I have is more than enough and I could very well manage my little bit of writings with my ink bottle and nib pen. More over fountain pens are expensive and there are many students who cannot afford it and you can gift it to one of the deserving village boy"

Till the end his low desk with the ink bottle and nib pen adorned a reverent corner in the verandah.

As the man woke up from his reverie, he was flummoxed with all these new set up and realised that his system had indeed become obsolete, even though, he was sure that the organisation would very well grow and flourish without him.

He decided to making way to the future generation.

As his grandpa retired, the grandson decided to present him a deserving gift, a worthy gift to this intellect and brought in a computer to the house. He thought that granddad could maintain his personal and the house hold accounts with ease but which was categorically refused by the man.

"My dear boy, computers are indeed expensive and there are many deserving persons who could not afford it. Can you please gift it to one of them" he said?

History was repeating itself. He was doubly happy to buy a unruled long note book draw the lines and present the monthly account s to his son, reckoned and reconciled to a single paisa.

 This dear person was my husband's dad who after retiring from his government post gave his might when our venture was started in a small way.

Till his end we enjoyed his artistic accounting system in the long note book at the home front.

Know Your Stomach

We Indians have a good celebration when the baby takes its first solid food. The ceremony is called 'annaprasanam' 'mukhe bhaat' 'choroonu' etc. according to the various regions and on that great day the child is blessed and fed with rice by the gathered elders. Sometimes this inaugural function is a never-ending norm of continuing till eternity making the mothers do the annaprasannam even to their grown-up children.

It was July 20th 1969.  I was sitting on the portico of my Calcutta house in the Southern part of the city with my baby girl. That evening both of us had a good time in the Rabindra Sarobar park with her running around in toddler steps. The portico was her favourite dinner spot and on that day, I doubly made sure that we sat out. As I was feeding her, I showed her the waxing moon of the fifth day a sickle in the western sky and told her that it was a great day for us all when man had landed on the moon. Observing my elated expression, she too joined in the spirit and happily repeated moon... moon...!

Those were the days when feeding the child was a 'moon affair' irrespective of moon's presence or otherwise a cloudy or a rainy day uninterrupting the show. Feeding my daughter was a thing of joy with her eagerness in enjoying the fare!

But not all the children are like her. There are some who are disinterested in the whole process of eating.  We wonder from wherever they get the energy to play nonstop! There are some affectionate mothers who never eat till the child is fed lest they may tend to forget how it feels to be hungry and thus create a tendency to let loose the child go on its own way!

Mothers sometimes adopted uncouth ways of feeding these adamant ones.

"If you don't eat now the monster in that well will catch hold of you and push you inside."

Unlike the invisible monster a fat man passing by becomes the scapegoat in virtually terrorising the child" Do you see the man going there.... the fat one...? His next dinner will be you."  

The olden day post man is another point of threat with his big brown bag. " If you don't eat, I will put you inside the bag!"  the mother intimidates the little one. The post man too happily joins the mother in this sadistic amusement!

The early morning soothsayer, the man with colourful patch work costume and his colourfully decorated bull, the police man, also make their contribution of intimidation!   By hook or crook these worried mothers want the food into the child's digestive track.

The rare occasion of grandparents' visit is indeed a great relief to their children since the grandmother takes charge of the baby's 'feeding protocol' by narrating good old stories which were dramatically enacted by the grandfather and the enchanted one happily has the whole lot in the bowl.

But gone are the days of these old tactics since one particular technological advancement hath indeed relieved this persisting headache for the mothers. The arrival of television fondly called the 'idiot box' occupying the centre stage of the house hold has become so addictive to the child that it is glued to the machine's visuals and becomes impervious to the food thrust inside. Nowadays handing over the cell phone with the child's favorite programme has indeed become the norm.

The mothers are now happy that the child is eating double the quantity. Their job has become easier leaving them plenty of time for other things. But are they spending the 'the quality time' needed for a proper feeding?

They will be in for a shock when the child's health takes a hit with tummy upset and other related problems. The great medicine man Hippocrates' declaration 2000 years ago that 100% of our ailment emanate from the stomach holds almost good even today! Do the mothers understand that the food given to the child should never be gulped but chewed well in the mouth with saliva which contains n number of enzymes, the digestive agent?

Today I would love to share with you an astonishing experience which I witnessed recently.

The moment the doctor asked her to start off with solid food she adopted the technique called 'self-feeding'. Seating her four-month-old child in a baby chair with table she started with tiny bits of food put in a plate attached to the table. Out of curiosity the child tried to touch what was in front and took it to the mouth, a natural tendency for any baby.  As months went by, these tiny morsels of food slowly gained in size to bigger chinks.

The proteins varied every day with a mixture of rice and dhal or fish and meat followed by boiled vegetables! The baby used both her hands to eat and at times distributing it like temple prasadam to the left and the right. With a clean sheet under her seating the mother patiently picked up the food and put it back into the plate. She knew that it was a learning process and was sure that in due course the child will get into systematic eating.  But she also knew that to attain the stage she has to spend the quality time with the child which can sometimes extend to an hour. She does the thing with plenty of joy all the time speaking to the baby, talking to her about the food. She knew that her maternity leave of a year is meant for grooming up the child. Once she becomes successful the child will know it's stomach to eat what is needed.  The person whom I refer to in this passage is my niece and her dear baby!

On a particular day we were in for surprise to receive a video clip from her. We couldn't believe our eyes when the baby after finishing the food raised her plate with both the hands and in the Indian style started licking it thoroughly and crying!  What better way for a baby to know the status of it's  stomach than a great lick and a cry?!

This wonder baby is none but our niece's child living in London! This mother had taken a tremendous effort to start the ball rolling to make sure that her child becomes an expert in this important life game of "Know Your Stomach".

I wish that the young and new mothers who read this blog emulate this wonderful practice towards having a healthy and hence a joyful baby. Please choose not the easy way of the 'idiot box 'or it's hand held version. The quality time spent with the baby is never ever a wasted one but rather is a life lesson in “Know Your Stomach", a strong foundation laid for its healthy habits!

My kudos to those exceptional mothers who can happily say that from day one my child has its own food and never force fed!

We the crazy bunch

A visit to UK for a month is our annual pilgrimage time when our daughter puts up a brand new Indian mythological Bharatanatyam dance drama at the Playhouse of Norwich, a highly anticipated one amongst Indian dance lovers and usually a sold out one!

An eye opener during this year was a visit to our niece’s house in London where we had an unique experience. As we entered the house, she came running to the door greeting us with her eight-month-old baby and said in Tamil " Thatha and Aachi have come. Will you clap your hands baby?" to which she responded with a gusto of clapping! 

"What is the big deal?" You may think. But my niece had married into an English family and there was no need for the baby to learn Tamil. We were surprised to know that her extended family desired that the child learnt another language to enhance the fertility of the mind!

"Do we ever think like that?" My own question hit me like a bolt from the blue!!

We crazy Indians are crazy about that foreign language English!

Even when we meet a Tamilian friend we tend to have the conversation in English feeling proud of  our apparent command over that language!

We make our children jokers when a visitor comes home. We coax them to sing the slavish "Bah Bah Slack Sheep "rhyme proving the prowess of our progenies in English.

Do we want to compensate what our forefathers lacked? But even they didn't lag behind in their craziness for English. At this juncture I would like to share with you a funny incident in my dad's life.

 My dad was the first child in his big joint family to attend a school where English was taught. For this purpose, he had to stay with his married sister's family in a cosmopolitan town. The sister wanted a cow for herself and on the pretext of providing genuine cow's milk to her brother asked my dad to write a letter to their father to send a cow.

Accordingly, a post card was sent.

And it was indeed a very special post card!! It contained just a single sentence!!

When the post man delivered the letter to my grandfather he was thoroughly confused. The address written in Tamil was right but the message was illegible. He couldn't make head or tail of it.

He returned the letter to the post man the single literate man in the village who knew English, and asked if he could understand the message. He announced that his son from the town had sent a letter in English.

"A letter for me in English!! That too from my son?! "My grandfather was in cloud nine!! He jumped with joy and requested the post man to sit properly in the verandah a courtesy never offered and asked him to read it.

" I want a cow." The post man read " Your obedient son Michaelsamy." and he did the much-awaited translation too! 

For the exhilarated man this process of reading once was not enough and desired that the letter be read several times along with the translation!!

The reverberating repetitions filled him and the villagers with boundless bliss! A measure of rice was gifted to the post man for this special service.

The words 'Your obedient son ' warmed the cockles of his heart.

"Even though my son knows English he is still my obedient son."  The very thought engulfed him with soothing warmth!!

But he was a bit upset that his son had been drinking mediocre milk so long which was likely to spoil his health.

The best cow in the shed along with the calf were dispatched immediately through reliable servants to that progressive town! 

 As I reflected over this oft repeated event in the family circle I tend to think "Is this craziness, for the English language, genetic?!

Through our multifarious endeavors we want to degrade our own mother tongue! In our lives 'Amma' had metamorphosed to mum or mummy and 'appa ' to dad, daddy or pappa ! Grandmothers and grandfathers are the happiest and the proudest when they are addressed as 'grandma and grandpa' instead of the archaic "paatti and thatha and its varieties!!"  At this point I have to confess that I am also a sinner and my 'mea culpas' at this juncture are useless as my children are steadfast in their anglicized callings.

We go on boasting about this language proficiency of our children "She is just three but can write ABCD in capital and small letters! That school is indeed very good!  The incredulity and ignorance of Indian parents!

"And what happens to our Tamil alphabets?" we dare not ask lest we hurt their feelings.

When I was in HR manager in an organization, the staff used lament "Mam! the little one brings a lot of complaint from the school."

"Too mischievous I suppose?" I said smilingly

"No mam it is an entirely different story. The complaint is that he refuses to write. Can I send him for tuition? My friend's child in the opposite house goes for tuition as soon as he comes back from school. Of course, she gives him snacks before he sends him off."

"Is that child happy?"

"No, never mam. He returns home literally in tears and to add fire to the fuel his mother does a thorough interrogation of the lessons done at the tuition."

"Would you love to have a happy baby?" I asked

"Indeed mam, but what about his future...." she replied

 I ignored her 'but' and asked how her child’s handwriting was.

"Somewhat ok. Got one or two prizes for handwriting at school."

"Now I would suggest that you to change it into bit of a scribble and do the home work along with your child."

My statement indeed threw her off the balance! She was shocked by my dubious integrity!

I smiled at her and said "My dear girl do you know the fact that the fingers of the children are not yet capable of systematic usage? They can draw and scrawl at their own will but never at the command from elsewhere.  The whole life is in front of them to do all the writings in the world!"

"Is this true mam?"

"You can go through any child psychology book to learn this truth." I said and continued “For the best education system Finland tops the world and do you know that the children there go to school at the age of seven? But what do we do?  A two-and-a-half-year-old child is admitted in the school on the great day of Vijayadashami and asked to write the alphabet on a tray filled with the auspicious yellow rice.  We justify this infant abuse by the statement " He will adapt and prove himself for proper schooling next year!!" 

I continued “I had the opportunity to go with my daughter to a UK school where she was invited to talk about Indian culture for the primary section in a school.

She created an ambience of bonhomie among the children by asking them to help in decorating the room in the Indian way. Flower Kolam filled the frontage and thorans and Indian posters were hung around the room. In this Indian ambience the curious children settled down expecting the lady to go the podium and talk about India. But instead my daughter asked the children to form a circle and seating herself at the centre began the session with a little prayer for the universe and continued with an easy yoga session all the time explaining the process all through.

She went on to the Indian mythological stories enacting as the story proceeded.

A small session of Bharatanatyam with the beginners' steps was an opener for the children.

Taking out a patch work spread from her bag she requested four children to come forward and exhibit it around for the children to look at the simple yet exquisite artwork.

Then she explained that this ecofriendly spread was made from waste bit of clothes in Rajasthan and one among them was asked point out the place in the huge map.

With the group following her she went through the posters, giving the gist of varied cultures of India.

The children's' enthusiasm knew no bound! There were too many inquisitive questions! They actually made a patch work carpet by sticking variety of colour papers with their own designs in them and proudly exhibited it her!

My friend was enthralled." Mam this is way the children should be taught."

"Yes my dear friend, a mere talk show on India would not have struck to their mind  and  instilling  the creativity in them is the right education." I said

Coming back to my role as HR manager, a convinced mother and employee,     thanked me and left my place and  I was sure that she would  make her house a joyous experience for the child!

 I want to end this with an interesting real-life event from our friend an orthopedic surgeon. This is his narration:

"One evening a worried father and mother came to my clinic along with their three-year-old child for consultation. They said "Doctor, the right hand of our girl is always folded at the elbow. Our efforts to straighten it, ends up in painful cries. We have to feed her at home but she cannot eat anything at school. While the other children are active, she sits quietly in a corner. What would happen to our child when she reaches the marriageable age? Should we go for a surgery?"

I pacified them. Tests were done accordingly and I found no fault with her bone formation. I was confused.  I sat with the parents for a discussion and in the course of which I found out there was no problem with the hand when she was sleeping.

On an intuition I asked the name of the school where she was studying.

When they named the school, I was convinced that the little girl is having psychological problem rather than a physical one.

"Change the school immediately and she will be ok." I told the parents emphatically. I have heard of the school which was notorious for its ‘mug and vomit' methodology with the final aim on marks and marks only and the tyrannical training starts in right earnest from LKG!  There was no space for the creativity and imagination of the children to play a role. This resourceful child took her recluse with an imagined crippled hand!

I told the parents that if their daughter still had a problem after this exercise, they had to come back to me. Otherwise a phone call from them about her welfare would suffice. And as anticipated I received a joyful thank you call from the parents!"

 And I know this incident would be readily waiting to be narrated when someone comes to unload the 'child worry' with me!

Parental Value Encounters

This blog is a life experience of my younger brother, a teacher of great repute, who lives in Kumbakonam and I am giving this in his own words. The blog is written as though my younger brother is narrating it.

Please enjoy!

Any get together at Kumbakonam is an anticipated one for me, where unexpected meetings happen with one or two old students sharing their progress in professional life and happenings in their families to enhance my happiness!

That day was special one as one of my students was getting married and in addition his father was a close associate of mine in various social activities. It was a pleasant affair with plenty of friends around. As we were chatting, a well-dressed man approached me and said “Sir I have seen you somewhere. Your face is so familiar.” I replied that I too have similar feeling. With mutual pleasantries, we parted our ways and as I came out after the festival lunch, he approached me again and emphatically said "You are very familiar. May I know your native place?”

I said “I belong to Edanganni, a village nearby.”

 The man exclaimed “I too belong to the same place and by the way do you remember the three brothers Ponnan, Maruthan and Kuttaru, who worked for your parents? Slowly I recollected. As young children we know Ponnan who was looking after our fields and know him better because he was in charge of the bullock cart which brought us to Edanganni from Kumbakonam the day our vacation started. Our joy knew no bound the moment Ponnan stopped the cart in front of our Kumbakonam house.  And we were the saddest when he dropped us back from the village at the Kumbakonam house. Thus, Ponnan was an inseparable entity in our mixed sentiments.

As I shared this information he said “ I am Maruthan’s son and remember all of you. All the three brothers worked for your mother who was a revolutionary, a good paymaster and the first woman who had the courage to manage the fields in the male dominated terrain, an inspiration to our poverty ridden, low caste family. It was she who insisted that all of the three brothers should learn to read and write but they scoffed at her impossible idea. They thought that they were too old for such an undertaking! But she insisted that at least they should learn to write their name and never again put their finger prints in any document and helped them in the process to learn to write. She repeatedly told them that their children should be sent to school and a proper education alone could guarantee a better future for the family.

On that day my household was wonder struck when the brothers came home and did the magic of writing their names in the bit of paper provided by the lady! And that little act of care and concern for the down trodden became the load star of our family to guide us towards the great gift of education. Today I am a retired man from a prestigious government job married well and my children too are highly qualified. At this moment, I cannot forget that inspirational loving lady, the root cause for our upliftment.” So saying the man shook my hands with great fervour and walked towards his waiting car!

Another incident also happened in another prestigious wedding at my place in Kumbakonam. A distant associate of mine came home one day to extend the invitation for his son's wedding. I was not at home and my wife who received the invitation was told that he knew the family well especially, her husband's father, the great teacher, and her husband an equally good teacher and their sons too. The invitation he said was for all the three generations.

On the morning of the wedding as I parked my scooter amidst the row of cars at the marriage hall. Our man in his resplendent creamy silk dhoti and shirt came running to receive me as if he was awaiting for my arrival. He took me straight away to the couple for my blessing. As I tried to introduce myself the bridegroom said "Don't bother about it uncle. Day in and day out we hear about you and your father from our dad!"

 Holding my hand all through he took me aside and putting one hand inside his silk shirt he said "Today I want to show you something very precious to me." As he reverently took out a small item, I was indeed dumbfounded!! It was a laminated photo of my dad!!  I was flabbergasted! What could have a simple teacher given to this man? He continued "Sir your father is always in my heart. I may change my shirt daily but I make sure he is always close to me to guide me, enlighten me. And today the first and foremost thing for me was to make sure that your dad is with me to give his blessings to the newly married and I consider your presence as the pinnacle of my son's marriage." As he held both my hands in reverence, I could feel his sincerity flowing through my veins!!"

This was the sharing done by my brother from Kumbakonam when we returned home after a month-long vacation. I was overwhelmed and speechless. I was in tears.

What a great gift the lady had given to an ordinary family"

Had the three brothers heard the story of my mother who made an illiterate village into an enlightened one where my dad was the head master before he shifted to Kumbakonam?

"What could my dad a simple teacher who retired from school more than half a century back had given such a precious gift to a man who cherishes it still?! 

Was this man one of the students who was tutored by my dad in our verandah?

Was he the one who was fed by my mother knowing that he was on an empty stomach?

Was he the one who was lucky enough to listen to dad's easy way of learning maths through songs at Kumbakonam railway station, waiting for his train to nearby village after my dad's game of badminton with the railway officers?

Was he the one who was a witness when dad brought about a great reconciliation between his parents which he did to many families in and around Kumbakonam?

Was he one of the persons who landed on a good job through dad's recommendation?

Had he imbibed all the goodness through the words spoken by my dad?

Two weddings in the season with these strange meetings was an eye opener for us siblings!! What do our parents want to convey to us? Are they sending us signals and reminders that our contribution to the society could be much more than what we are giving now?

With these value encounters we the children of such a wonderful couple who bequeathed great values throughout their lives are honour bound to enrich those values. And each of us in our own way strive towards the same and our effort towards that goal will definitely be more fervent and their good vibrations flow ceaselessly in our lives and through our generations to benefit the society at large!

A Medley of Feasts

Our car driver switches on the FM channel whenever we travel long distance. The deejays, the word magicians capable of innovating the old and repetitive into brand new material with the glib of their tongue sometimes produce interesting conversations. One such discussion on that day was with a man who loves to enjoy wedding feasts uninvited. Dressed neatly in 'Minister White' dhoti and shirt he would enter the venue according to the dictates of his taste buds which can be North Indian banquet or a mouthwatering Mughlai biriyani or a tasty vegetarian meal.

 The 'Minister White' dress code, the universally accepted as a ‘reverence invoking’ costume of South India is sure to get a welcoming reception for all occasions irrespective of caste community and religion. As he entered the venue our man would  happily nod to the welcoming committee of girls smear a bit of auspicious sandalwood paste on his forehead shake hands with a few important looking people go to the decorated stage of the bridal couple, and with a congratulatory hand shake with groom and a reverential ‘vanakkam’ with folded hands to the bride, pose for the photo shoot and graciously accept the invite from the host standing at the edge of the exit point of the stage to partake in the dinner or lunch according to the time of the day!

"Don't you have the guilt feeling?" asks the deejay

" Never" the man replies. "The feast is for a large crowd and a single addition is not going to make a difference. Further I never go there to steal or ogle at the well-dressed girls. My purpose is very clear. Enjoy the feast in a pleasant ambience on the inviting banana leaf spread and end it with paan."

"How did you get into this habit?"

"From young age I had a fancy for eating on banana leaves and ached to have all my meals in those eco-friendly chlorophyll plate. This luxury was impossible in my big family where each one of us had a porcelain plate allotted and since it was a big family of 10 children my parents used to take us for weddings and functions only in turns. But now things are very different for me and my childhood wishes are doubly fulfilled.

"Have you ever been caught?"

"Why should I be?" The man was nonchalant" As I leave the venue, they present me with the coconut and paan gift bag with great reverence or request me to choose a nice plant for my garden."

This dialogue kindled my thought process when we had the opportunity to attend a close friend's wedding in England. As soon as the church ceremony was over and the newly married were congratulated with the bubbly champagne and congratulations, we were asked to proceed for the feast to a white marquee erected nearby. Usually in Indian Christian weddings the church would not see that much crowd as the reception.

 As we were looking for the place where the reception hall could be, we noticed the guests walking towards a white marquee. We followed the crowed. As we entered ornately decorated marquee, we saw a board where the guests going through the contents. We too queued up wondering if that was some sort of congratulatory note or a welcome for the couple! But to our amazement the list contained our names with a corresponding table number. Fortunately, we were allotted a table close to the bridal couple in that unknown gathering. Guests ambled along to their allotted table with a pleasant chat. 

 I couldn't believe what I saw. This is impossible. How could the wedding guests be contained in a white board? Were there many more similar marquees? But it was just a single marquee and only those many guests that could be allocated tables were invited. But care was taken that the allotment of tables was always with close friends or relatives who would enjoy the day!

Having witnessed thousands of weddings with thousands of guests in my nation this miniscule size was an unacceptable factor to the heart. The scrambling rush for dinner seats after the felicitations, a la Indian style, was missing here.

I laughed thinking about our poor Indian 'Minister White' who would have cut a very sorry figure in this British ambience!

It was the year 1976 when emergency was declared in India by the great lady Indira Gandhi when Fakhruddin Ali Ahamed was the President. During that period a guest control act was also promulgated to avoid ostentatious spending on occasions like weddings when millions of poor people went hungry. Like our English experience Indira Gandhi should also have undergone a similar one and the same should have affected her psyche and made her promulgate this austerity measure.  Luckily or otherwise my younger sister was getting married then and even though we lived in a town where the wedding was to take place our rustic back ground was deep rooted and it was a near impossibility to control the guests to 150 persons where the wheat and rice serving should be limited to 150 grams according to the dictates of the guest control act. A wedding without a proper dinner with abundance of rice along with various curry servings sweets and payasam would mean a humiliation to the village people. We were in a dilemma. Our amma got a bright idea. She could pin point a loophole in the guest control act. The rule controls only rice and wheat.  If rice and wheat were not involved the assumption is that we could call any number of guests. She said it could be a two-venue wedding! Since it was an evening wedding the general invitation would be in a big hall where a feast of tiffin items without involvement of rice wheat could be served to any number of guests and the town people would enjoy this feast better.  And for the villagers it would be an invitation plus! the villagers were usually invited in the traditional paan supari style and amma said that along with the invitation there could be an additional card giving the address of dinner venue. Apart from the 150 guests a hundred plus would not be a problem even if the checking officers come along since they were also Indians and would understand that the proper treatment of wedding guests is an unbreakable sacrosanct institution of “Aththi Devo Bhava” in our beloved country!

Our Amma was indeed a clever lady. And during that period many a wedding followed amma's tactics satisfying the guests with a different culinary experience!!

Enjoying our 'moon meals' during our summer holidays was not only a much-anticipated feast of our childhood days but even after we grew up with a family of our own! It was an ambrosia beyond compare! My mouth salivates as I type this blog!  But my prelude should not give you a wrong impression of a great feast under the moon. The left-over sambar of the afternoon would be mixed with rice in a big vessel and curd rice with a rich seasoning of mustard and finely chopped green chilies and ginger and the additional summer bonanza of delicious mango pieces would get ready in another vessel.

While the sambar rice and curd rice adorned the centre stage we sat around in the open verandah for the feast in anticipation irrespective the moon's presence! (for us moon was just a bonus.)

Beside the main vessels there would an additional bowl of fried crushed appalams and pickle container. As one of the hosts made a ball of the sambar rice and served it on one of the extended palms another would generously spray the crushed appalams on the ball of rice. The process continued till the members were satiated or the vessel went empty and usually it was the second option that was the case! Then the curd rice course would start in right earnest with a bit of pickle adorning it's top like a ruby crown! Indulged and saturated we would happily run to the tank at the back of the house only to play in the water again on the pretext of washing our hands!!

While this simple meal metamorphosed it into heavenly food there was an occasion when we had a big feast which could easily be forgotten than remembered.

He was a close friend who invited five of us, his close friends for a lunch in his house the next day after an official meet. He welcomed us at the gate of his ancestral house with beautiful terracotta flooring and took us in. A big library announced his scholastic competence. After introducing his wife, we were taken to the dining room where big banana leaves in Chettinad style were spread out. After washing our hands as we took our seats the lady of the house started serving. Our friend left the venue informing us that he would eat later. Performing her duty perfectly the lady too went inside the kitchen and we were left alone to partake in the 'feast'! Our friend never entered the place even though we expected him to give company though he might not be eating!  His wife darted between the kitchen and the dining space to keep feeding her guests. All my efforts to create a small talk to enliven the ambience proved futile with her monosyllable replies.  We literally hurried through the act of eating missing the very important factor of bonhomie that could have made it into a very pleasant occasion!

At this juncture I remembered another time where had our food alone but had the very opposite effect from our friend's place. It was an Anglo-Indian family and we were invited for lunch on the occasion of their son's first communion. The guests were many but their quaint little house was not as big as their heart. We were seated in the front portico of the house. As we wondered how they had planned to manage the crowd they invited our family to come inside for the meals. They expressed their regrets for lack of space but told us that the food was served in the room and requested us to enjoy their sumptuous spread. After this, they pulled apart the curtains that separated three rooms, with a request once more to relish the food.  The three little rooms were thus converted to a single dining hall. I thought what a contrasting experience we had with our in the house of our scholarly friend and this little place filled with cordiality.

My thought process which started with the FM stopped with the Anglo-Indians and with a single exception, I realised that the whole show of feast in our lives had indeed been an enjoyable merry go round!