random compilations

Bang on target

2012-01-28T19:17:00.001+05:30

ON A day marked for music and culture, a miniscule section of Coimbatore assembled on the lush green compound of Tamil Nadu Agricultural University to listen to abhang rendition of Aruna Sairam.
It was part of the Vasanth Panchami conceived by the Confederation of Indian Industry, Southern Region.
The choice of venue showed application of mind by the organisers, as the chilly morning, cool breeze, chirping birds, and devotional music was so much in sync with the greenery provided by the university campus, not to mention the Krishna-idol-decorated cute little stage.
The only odd one among the lot was the plastic sheet tied to the trees to provide a shade (under the green shade!).
Though the programme was slated to begin at 10 a.m., a small crowd of 100, grey was predominant, had gathered at the venue by 9.30 a.m. itself. Surprisingly, youth -- especially the students of the university, were conspicuous by their absence. May be that entry was free!
Next time the CII should announce that passes cost a minimum of Rs. 1,000. Then there will be a mad scramble for free passes!
By the time Aruna Sairam invoked Goddess Saraswati -- incidentally it was Saraswati's birthday -- the number of rasikas had trebled, with a sprinkle of youth, mostly music students.
Her captivating sound, the quick ascensions and descends of abhang, made even the birds keen listeners.
Along with the applause by the rasikas, trees shed their leaves in appreciation. The Nature, the audience, and the singer, have become one -- the Vithal lala.
Aruna Sairam led the audience to the pranks of Krishna song by song mostly by Tamil composers, for about two hours.
Then she reminded the audience, which was in no mood to call it a day, that it was time for lunch and time to sign off.
She concluded the session with a 'Bhojan keerthana' that listed more than 100 dishes in 'arohana avarohana krama.'
A filling for soul and body.

I Too Celebrated Onam

2011-09-10T10:24:00.001+05:30

IT BEGAN with Uthrada Pachil, literally, in my 10-year-old car along the thoroughfares of Coimbatore on Thursday, with utmost care, finding space between whizzing-past two-wheelers.
I appreciated my driving skills as I successfully reached a shopping centre without losing limb or adding more scratches to my vehicle.
Thanks to market economy, everything was easily available there provided you have the right combination of purchasing power -- from plantain leaf (Rs. 5 a piece. The seller said it was special Onam rate) to palada (branded and non branded).
At the Flower Market I stood exposed.
I found that I was a poor haggler. The defiant vendors there had a wonderful time as I bought flowers for Rs. 180 (four varieties totalling 1.5 kg), after trying in vain to negotiate price with them.
Banana was scarcely available. At Rs. 40 a kg (a kg will be about 4 pieces, if one is lucky enough and the balance is propery manipulated!), nenthran seemed to be the king of fruits for the occassion.
Even the hardcore miser in me couldn't prevent another 'Gandhi' from escaping my purse, as I toured the vegetable market on Mettupalayam Road.
Fortunately, Maveli (king Mahabali) was not available for sale -- neither clay models nor plastic. So I could save a Rs. 100 or so on that count.
Since I have an inherent distaste for textile shops, I couped a major savings on that count too. No 'onapudava' this time.
I patted myself on my journo back, for assuming a moral high ground (when there is lot of sufferings around you, don't splurge), and got a sprain arm.
The 'pachil' (rush) that began around 10 a.m. concluded at about 2 p.m. and it was time for office.
With a stone face I sat in front of a computer at office, so none dared to come near me asking for an Onam treat.
Ha!! the clever me succeeded again. None came anywhere near me even to offer a greetings!!
I felt qualified enough to write a book on "How to save money and celebrate Onam."
After a hectic night at office I reach home midnight (I was proud that it was I who first sighted Onam before anyone else in my house -- again a me-first!) only to hit bed hoping for a colourful and eventful 'ponnona pulari.'
The 'pulari' (morning) was born when I woke up, at about 9 a.m. (being a holiday for schools, no one bothered -- or dared? -- to wake me up early).
Kids were merry-making with my Rs.-180 flowers. When will they learn austerity?
Within minutes a 'pookalam' (floral carpet) was ready with great colour combination and skill played by my daughter.
I told her to wash her hands of strains of fertilizers from the flowers.
"For a change, can't you admire the beauty of flowers?" she retorted. Alas! I have lost the ability. Whenever I see flowers or vegetables I can only think of endosulfan, which reports say is easily available in Tamil Nadu and used extensively. What a negative attitude!!
The smell of a 'sadya' (feast) is emanating from the kitchen.
How can I resist it?
I tried to bribe (apologies Annaji) wife into granting me a special privilege of tasting the 'payasam' before lunch time.
She gave me a ferocious look that will put to shame even master performers of 'pulikali' (dance of leopards), for entering the kitchen without taking a bath.
Since compromise is a better tool to curry favour, especially with a wife, I limped to bathroom to immerse myself in salt water (thats what we get here mostly).
Deft hands of my wife have turned the vegetables bought the day before, to mouth-watering dishes. For a while I tried to forget the LPG loss for a single day.
I sat in front of my yellow-shaded plantain leaf and gobbled whatever is served on it as if there's no tomorrow.
And to bed for a heartful of sleep.
By 4 p.m. I force open my eyelids and jump out of bed to get ready to office.
No, don't shrink your eyebrows. It's not a holiday. Couldn't manage a leave too (poor negotiation skills to be blamed!).
I was greeted at office with the most expected banter: "Where is the treat?"
I have already rehearsed my answer: "Onam is a national festival."
So go ahead and treat yourself.
The best part of Onam is that you don't have to cook again the next day. There's some more left in the fridge. I feel happy. Vegetables, gas, water to wash dishes, all saved.
HAPPY ONAM!!

White Ribbon

2010-05-20T23:22:00.045+05:30

WHEN I wrote 'abracadabra' on your slate with a wet yellow chalk

You frowned at me.

Then I gave you a White Ribbon -- wrinkled and soiled.

When I wrote ILU on your unruled note book with a blue pencil

You frowned at me.

Then I gave you a White Ribbon -- neatly folded, scented.

On a rainy day

In a dark dingy room

When I uncaged a lion in me

You frowned at me.

Then I gave you a White Ribbon -- flowing endlessly.

Now, here I lie,

Ribs broken,

Blood strained,

Gasping for breath,

Waiting for that freezing touch on my toes,

I see only White Ribbons.

Where have you gone ?

Why don't you frown at me ?

Stimulus

2010-03-17T00:35:00.005+05:30

"My Name Is ...." thundered Qui Than alias Koran Makan Kunhi Thevan, on his return from Copenhagen via Australia, after successfully preventing Himalayan glaciers from melting, ignoring Pachauri's warning.

While in Kangaroo land, he donated his iPod, costly watch, jewelry and everything that Australians considered valuable to Victorian police chief Simon Overland and looked poor.

(A dare-devilry act considering the fact that even a half-naked fakir avoided Australia during his life time though he took pains to visit Mussolini's Italy).

Australians sweltered at this kind act and the country's mercury level shot up to a decade-high.

Qui Than was so stimulated that he wanted an early exit, desperately.

But Mayamohini -- the 33 per cent-empowered Pleasure Executive, who was relishing a Kraft chocolate -- was not easily amused. She knows, so long as inflationary tendencies persist, exit in any form or name will be dubbed as premature.

She is not game for any action plan that ignores inclusivity.

(Oops! It doesn't mean that Pakistan cricketers should be auctioned along with Balasaheb in the Indo-Pak League-2010).

Swaravahini, the breaking-news expert, refused to take up the role of a valuable interlocutor between Qui Than and Mayamohini.

"Three Idiots cannot hold the country's women for ransom," a cash-strapped Qui Than told a crowded press conference hurriedly convened near an ATM centre at Mumbai suburban railway station.

Swaravahini was more than pleased -- bytes were on a roller-coaster ride. She instructed her camera crew to follow Qui Than in a Train-The-Talk mode but definitely no Emotional Atyachar.

When he winked at her, she noticed the cholesterol deposit in the hollow of his Left eye.

"Xanthelsama," she murmured.

(Leonardo da Vinci first diagnosed xanthelsama in Mona Lisa and later Mulayam Singh in Amar Singh. There are unconfirmed reports that Mamta had discovered it in Basu some ten years ago, adds Swaravahini).

"I can't resist the temptation of showering you with bounties," whispered Qui Than to Mayamohini in an earnest effort to bridge differences between them that emerged during Phyan's visit.

"Don't fuel my dreams," she retorted.

"This is my last chance," he pleaded.

"Let's try the middle path," she suggested.

"Financial prosperity depends on public prosperity," he angled a Kautilya theory at her.

"The opportunity is great. The time is right," she agreed.

Qui Than's face brightened like a fresh, ripened mango. He became Aam Aadmi.

In the after glow, Mayamohini shed her inhibitions and made a smashed mango chutney.

Janus, the two-faced God from whose name January was derived at, has opened the gates of 2010 with a bang. Its for the visitors to decide the next step.

And sitting under a coconut tree, Koran smiled, as he had just purchased the coconut he had sold last week for Rs. 3, at Rs. 12. For sure, the economy is booming.

(To be continued)

Awards for 2009

2009-12-31T17:19:00.010+05:30

Here is a compilation of awards best suited for the year gone by which was hectic, as usual, and threw in its own moments of glory, grief, fun and what not! (The list is exhaustive and readers are free to add their own nominations)

Best Actor

Ajmal Kasab

Song of the Year

"Telangana wale jago, Andhra wale bhago" (Arise people of Telengana, Andhraites run away).

Word of the Year

Hopendsere (Hope ends here -- heard at Copenhagen)

Best fireworks

Collapse of 140 banks in the U.S.

Philanthropy of the Year

Free service offered by sex workers at Copenhagen in protest against a ban imposed on them.

Best Award of the Year

Nobel for Obama

Controversy of the Year

Wing and shaft (courtesy: Pokhran)

Best Prediction (life-time)

Indian Meteorological Department

Foot-in-mouth Award

Shashi Tharoor

Sach ka Samna

Soofiya Maudhani

Persona non grata

L.K. Advani

Perfect Bride

Rakhi Sawant (for her tiring efforts to tie the knot)

Perfect (eligible) Bridegroom

Rahul Gandhi

Desert Storm Award

Dubai World

Nail Biting and Anticipation Award

Best Film

Return of The (Shibu) Soren

Costume of the Year

Pink chaddi

Best Jury Award

For Liberhan Commission

Satyameva Jayathe Award

Ramalinga Raju

Best Politician Award goes to:

Indian voter

And finally, 'The Muscle Power Extra Man of The Year Award'

N.D. Tiwari (86)

The Rise and Fall of Phyan

2009-11-18T23:19:00.008+05:30

SURPRISED WILL be too simple a word to describe the mood of Myanmar-born Phyan when she received an invitation from Qui Than early November to visit the Indian coast on a vacation.

The fallen cherry (Phyan in Burmese), wanted to let her hair down and whirl around like coils of a snake, lash at hard surfaces at a wind-speed of 103 kmph and do a tango with Qui Than. She reached Arabian Sea clandestinely from her country, ruled by a star-gazer turned junta, with lots of hopes and aspirations.

The last time, a distant relative of hers visited this part of the world was in 1966.

"1966 is not just a number. It's history in a nutshell," Phyan told Swaravahini's television crew in exclusivity. Qui Than noticed Swaravahini's absence. "Big Daddy from the U.S. visited Paa that dreadful year," Phyan stated.

Though Qui Than had kept her visit a secret, overzealous babus at Met Department sensed an opportunity and issued a warning. Qui Than ignored it with the contempt it deserved.

He made elaborate arrangements to receive her: Unwanted onlookers were evacuated; pumps were kept ready to tide over any shortage of water; and Naval Band was kept on high alert.

But Phyan, in her early teens, had the fright of her life when she moved towards Mumbai coast.

A beaming Raj declared: "13 is not an unlucky number."

At the thought of a backlash from Marathi Manoos, Phyan shuddered.

She exhibited symptoms of Hutchinson–Gilford progeria syndrome -- the Amitabh variety. But Paa's wife refused to carry her on shoulders.

She decided to move towards Kerala. Mayamohini, Qui Than's vacation guide, was not pleased at the turn of events. She said: "Don't think Surprise Babies (Abdulla Kutty in Malayalam) can take elephants in the State for a ride."

Pleased at the interlude, Swaravahini said: "Caparisoned elephants can't be used to pull dead wood."

The untimely and improper use of the E-word annoyed Mayavati, the sole proprietor of elephant grazing in the cow belt.

"Don't ever think of pulling an elephant by its legs," she said. And clenching her fist with her forefinger and middle finger protruding, she shouted: "Statue." Adam, Madam and everyone froze.

Phyan lost her way.

She scrambled for her next option -- Gujarati asmita.

The bed-ridden Modi, was immediately declared physically fit and in a combative mood but not ready to take the mantle from his party's national president.

Chorus: "Oranges grown in Nagpur have a special flavour this season."

Phyan groaned under pressure. Even if Suu Kyi is arrested outside her house, Paa has scheduled the next coup for 2011.

Stupefied, even the babus at the Met Department lost track of their own directives.

Phyan had no other alternative but to get into Bay of Bengal for an escape route.

"Not above my head," declared Mamata. "Nothing can match the Duranto," (the express she travels in nowadays to harvest two-leaves from red fields) she added and laughed merrily glancing at the Mahakaran built by writers in Bengal.

Sandwiched between Junta and India, Phyan's time was running out as 24X7s have already posted her status as: Fizzled out.

Across the Atlantic, Obama was closely monitoring the events as they unfolded. In an address to a joint session of Congress, he said: "This isn't about politics. This is about people's lives. This is about people's businesses. This is about our future."

And after 12 hours of bitter debate the House of Representatives passed a Bill amounting to a 10-year, trillion dollar plan to extend health coverage to 36 million Americans who lack it now.

Later, Big Daddy flew to Singapore to meet Phyan's Paa.

Phyan was awestruck.

And she roared: Meow.

Reality struck Qui Than. Even his Blue Cloud couldn't compute the turn of events.

But sitting under a coconut tree, one sunny afternoon, Koran, who cloned Qui Than, smiled, for he is not supposed to do anything else.

(To be continued)

Business Model

2009-09-20T23:14:00.003+05:30

PEDDLING THE Boom and Bust Cycle -- as holy cows have occupied the cattle classes -- K.M. Qui Than alias Koran Makan Kunhi Thevan reached the G-1 summit venue well before the time scheduled to wind up the session.

He was received by a waiting Swaravahini and camera crew.

"If the terrain is uneven, punctures can occur. There's no news in it," he byted exclusively for her in a defensive mode.

Within seconds breaking news followed: "Economy cannot survive without punctures."

On the floor of the house, he offered to read out a Statement of Intent.

"Since depression is universal and there exists a tendency to recess, stimulation holds the key," he declared.

"People are scared to spend. Money stacked in bank vaults are nothing but Non Performing Assets. Even without an end-user agreement," he paused for one-trillionth of a second to glance at Mayamohini -- the Pleasure Executive -- who showed signs of an early recovery, and continued: "Businesses can survive, if models are well in place."

"Dear Madam Speaker Sir, I quote Opportunities lost are opportunities gained unquote. And that calls for gambling.

"In these circumstances playing with funny money or preserving yellow cake does not make economic sense.

Selling Coke to a Yankee or coal to New Castle is much easier than selling sugarcanes in Maharashtra or tomatoes in Tamil Nadu.

"Profit derived at -- may it be notional since losses are never made, Madam Speaker Sir, they just happens -- by bundling out instruments with or without a hedge, and distributed among the masses within the purview of Managers' Club are nothing but under recoveries. For clarity in this regard Madam Speaker Sir I request you to read Chapter 11.

"To kick start an ailing economy one need not wear spiked boots. It is very easy. Splurge in an austere manner."

At this juncture, Kotha, Qui Than's biological mother with a permanent wardrobe malfunction, who was sitting in the balcony pretending to be listening to the verses, made a thought-provoking exclamation: "Oops! I forgot to pour cold water on yesterday's leftover rice. What will he have for dinner?"

Madam Speaker Sir ordered her to be evicted from the House and ruled: "Nothing will be there on the records." Qui Than was asked to proceed.

"If people don't spend, the government should. Borrow and spend should be the motto," he said.

Even Opposition members could not resist the temptation to thump the desk, as doors of opportunities are opening up.

Ignoring the expected cacophony, Qui Than wound up his speech: "Madam Speaker Sir, I quote When goats hedge, it's the fox that tastes blood unquote." Then he drank the coconut water he was carrying in his shoulder bag and sneezed.

And sitting under a coconut tree, one sunny afternoon, Koran half-smiled, for austerity measures are in force.

(To be continued)

Boys Never Grow Up

2009-09-01T17:41:00.006+05:30

IT WAS proved once again.
After about 25 years, when the alumni (1983 batch) of Sree Rama Varma High School better known as Sakala Rowdy Vidyalayam, met at Gymkhana Club in Ernakulam, they were as boisterous as ever proving the dictum "Boys never grow up."
It was an out and out informal affair with none to anchor the show or any restriction imposed.We came, We met and We left -- revitalised, acquaintances renewed and promises made.
Though scheduled to begin at 6.30 p.m., many turned up as late as 10 p.m. -- even one of the organiser, Biju, popularly known as Kappiri for his hair style, came running at about 9 p.m.
When myself, Arun -- one of my greatest pals who has great driving skills and a penchant for remembering names, places and rightly identifying even bylanes during midnight, and Martin, drove into the club at about 7.30 p.m., a small group had already gathered there waiting patiently.

Loud noises emanating from the room ensured that we are right on track.
The staff at the club thought some bachelor's party is going on.

A silent prayer crudely reminded us that three of our mates have already left us for ever.
Everyone introduced himself to the other at the top of his voice.
Suddenly I found a ruled notebook in my hands and a soft voice said: "Your name and phone number please." By the time I finished writing these, the voice, some more softer, said: "Rs. 250 if no drinks, otherwise Rs. 500."
With an umbrella protruding from his armpit and a charming smile, soft-spoken Radhakrishnan proved himself to be the best man to do the job of money raising from among the 'outlawed.'
"Drinks are served," someone announced and there was a flurry of activity near the bar counter.
"Let the party begin."
"Where's the music?"
One of the hotel staff hurriedly brought in a DVD player and it started belting out a fast number pumping up adrenalin even among the most sober in the crowd.
The most discussed person was our Hindi teacher nicknamed 'Irachi' (meat) who is specialised in the art and science of 'pinching' in discipline. His finger nails worked in such a way that a portion of the victim's skin peeled off in the process.
And the most discussed action was the manner in which the lion-hearted among us used to jump out of window without catching the attention of the teacher, for a 'Noon show.'
Since there was no let up in catcalls and abuses, shouting and laughter, the staff decided to serve food. For us the night was growing young. For them it was time to wind up and go home.
Butter naan, fried rice, fish fry, chicken curry followed by ice-cream, in a way, mellowed the crowd.
Photo sessions followed. Suggestions were invited to channelise the energy in a more productive and creative manner.
The proposal to help at least one student of our Alma mater in his studies was welcomed with a roar and stomping. Modalities for the same will be discussed, it was announced. The applause followed culminated into an intense leg shaking as if there is no tomorrow. It was 11.30 p.m.
It looked as if the party has just begun with an obliging, young and flirtatious night in attendance.
Yes. Boys Need Not Grow Up.

Photo: Anand Prakash

Rain, Rain, Come Again?

2009-07-07T18:16:00.007+05:30

AS USUAL, waiting till the Asian Brown Clouds gave way to dark monsoon clouds, authorities concerned chose to dump gravels on a pot-holed road so that the first showers itself will see to it that their class enemy -- the honourable tax-paying citizen -- got a free training in fox-trotting and a splash of red from head to toe if he dared to walk down the lane, even from a cyclist who passes by him.
And surprisingly, it worked.
Even my XL umbrella couldn't resist the temptation of being coloured gravel red.
True to a nationalist I cursed the rain instead of the good-humoured officials, for choosing the wrong time and wrong place to show its might.
On return from office I ask my children: "Which is the best season?"
"Rainy season," they shout.
"You know," they explain, "playing in the rain is the funniest thing to do."
But not walking along a slushy road to office, I murmur in disappointment and disagreement.
Is there anybody who dislike rain? I give a try.
"You will be the loser," says Jeshi from Bangalore. "I think 99 per cent of the people will love rain as I do. I just sit somewher and stare when it rain," she says.
With a vengeance I enter a popular discussion site on the Net and post: "Rain -- Good or Bad?"
I got 10 replies instantaneously.
'Unfortunately' Jeshi is proved right. Only two said they disliked rain or a rainy day. They attributed their dislike to the uneasiness in carrying an umbrella and the mess that the rain creates.
For a vast majority it's a pleasant intervention into otherwise mundane chores that sum up a day.
Sitting in Kovai (Coimbatore) you can think of rain drops gliding down electric lines... to infinity, wrote Renu from Kochi.
"We are enjoying the rain," says Mini from Thrissur. "With hot coffee and ada dosa."
"Rain is welcome," says Lali from Kozhikode. "But not during day time. It is very difficult to travel by road," she says and adds: "But only rain reveals the beauty of our surroundings."
Bad roads and traffic snarls are not caused by the rain. They are there even if it doesn't rain, adds Saneesh from Kannur.
"I like the smell of green earth it generates," says Smitha sweltering under 42 degrees in Gurgaon.
"Here it's sultry. The rain clouds are avoiding our horizon," writes Devan from Mumbai and adds "Hope you are fine."
The comments on the discussion forum ranged from "I like it because it gives me a free car wash" to "it is good for meditation" and "its sound is exciting."
"I don't carry an umbrella when I go to school to fetch my child," says Lekha from Thiruvananthapuram. "We walk home playing in the rain."
Some pointed out that its an art to listen to the melody the rain generates. It varies according to the nature of the surface where it falls and its velocity.
A soft drizzle on palm fronds generates romantic music, which can even, at times, attain the proportions of a raga vistara by a Carnatic musician. A downpour on a concrete terrace can echoe an MJ composition.
And when it rain on a sheet of water -- like in Kavalam in Alappuzha, when you sit in a boat and stare at the horizon that gradually melts with the ripples caused while rowing -- you forget yourself. Its absloute bliss.
Life becomes simple.
It brings in memories too.
As Saraswathi in Thiruvananthapuram says: "You will never catch me cursing the rain. No matter how difficult it is to travel, dry clothes, keep the house tidy. Forget the cold and sniffles. My early memories of rain are about me playing in my house with dolls as a child and watching it pour outside. My father listening to old Hindi songs and doing his files, smell of firewood burning from kitchen with my mother readying to prepare another dish, my grandmother holding court in the veranda... the feeling of security, home, family... is something the rain evokes in me even now."
For Anu (Anasuya) in Kochi, rain is a pointer to her future. "I can see myself by the window, some 50 years later, nursing gnarled knuckles, and silver hair, watching the same bloody rain."
There is something soul satisfying about staring at the rain, she says.
"Watching the convulsions of the monsoon skies between coffee and bitter-sweet verse, I feel its okay to be born after all. I can afford to spend an entire day in a chair with my coffee mug and a book. Not even my perpetual bowel concerns or my rapidly falling hair are going to distract me from this meditative calm. I look for butterflies among the shiny wet leaves of the large bread fruit tree. I know they are all probably dead or enjoying a brighter day at their migratory havens. But I look for the same. The fireflies too have disappeared. I miss those fire trails they leave."
Not satisfied with all these vouchsafing, I look for a definition for rain. And I get it: "Rain is liquid precipitation." It contains water -- a ubiquitous chemical substance that is essential for the survival of all known forms of life.
POST SCRIPT
1. The normal annual rainfall of Kerala is 3,107 mm (national average is 1,197mm). The State has the benefit of the South-West and North-East monsoon. Although, quantum wise the rainfall received is fairly high, its distribution shows wide temporal and spatial variations. On an average the number of rainy days is in the range of 120-140 in a year. The annual yield of water in Kerala in a normal year is around 7,030 crores cubic metres. The utilisable water resource is around 4,200 crore cubic metres.

2. In July 2001, the State witnessed spells of scarlet, yellow, brown and black rain in eight districts.

Interview

2009-06-15T23:30:00.009+05:30

(Readers please refer to earlier posts -- First Family series for an update)

NOT SATISFIED with Mayamohini's interventionist approach, Qui Than relapsed into a reactionary mode when his satellite phone sang.
"Can I have a one-on-one with you, Mr. Than?" Swaravahini's melodious voice ruptured the moans and gasps inside the car.
Immediately Qui Than logged off his laptop.
Mayamohini, on her part, did a neck exercise as if to understand the dynamics of moving objects through the car pane and became deaf.
"Just a byte will do," the ignorant Swaravahini pleaded.
"Not now, you idiot," Qui Than made a diplomatic move. "Come to my place after 8 p.m. And, don't forget to bring the dinner."
The protectionist overture pasted a smile on Mayamohini's lipstick. It reddened.
And Qui Than went out of range. Mayamohini was logged in again.
At the dot of eight, Swaravahini swiped her thumb on the security gadget placed outside Qui Than's undisclosed dwelling place, which is now shown live on local television network, to declare her arrival. Qui Than opened the door within seconds, though the delay seemed intriguingly long for a seasoned journalist in Swaravahini.
Her sharp eyes and nose-for-news couldn't trace even a bit of Mayamohini, who had vanished into thin air. The air has been purified. The smell of HIT had a tale to tell her.
She placed the dinner packet containing two fried fish and one salted tapioca on the table neatly laid with white linen and glowing candles. And declared: "Dinner is outsourced."
"Have you been hardly hit by recession," Qui Than asked, his eyes taking a sneak preview of her sleevelessness.
She got the cue and said: "Solutions are not tailor-made."
QT:"Why target me?"

SV: "You air dashed empty-handed. That was surprising."

QT: "Now my hands are full." (Swaravahini was leaning against him).

SV: "Coffers are empty. Cobwebs have no resale value."

QT: "Contraction is more than expected. How's the crime rate?"
SV: "There's blood on the road. Communist ghost has killed Capitalism."
QT: "The fittest will perish. Survival is need-based."
SV: "Fed needs to be fed. Minting machines are running overtime. The show must go on."
QT: "Is there a Plan B, just in case Plan A succeeds?"
SV: "Let's try to get some sleep."
QT: "The fish is hard. Tapioca needs green chillies."
Swaravahini signed off stating that Qui Than has pulled the curtains down.
And sitting under a coconut tree, one sunny afternoon, Koran smiled.

(To be continued)

Childhood revisited

2009-05-21T22:35:00.017+05:30

Defying orders from the Meteorological Department, monsoon chose to break on Kerala on May 23 itself, setting a perfect mood for the alumni of the Seventh Day Adventists English Medium School, Kaloor, to meet in Kochi (Kerala) the next day.

Many of us literally sat through the night of May 23 (I was in a general compartment of a packed train from Coimbatore) anticipating the events likely to unfold the next day. We had valid reasons. Most of us will be meeting after about 25 years.

THE DAY

Myself, Kenny, his wife and children were the first to arrive (we assumed) at the venue at about 10.40 a.m. The meeting was scheduled to start at 11 a.m.

We were sadly reminded by courteous hotel staff that SDA is not a familiar acronym and no hall has been booked for any event.

As ever, Kenny was persistent. He was the master story-teller in our class. With a good memory to his credit he used to narrate the scenes of movies he has seen, usually Hindi, in all details without forgetting any of the dialogues. If the movie is of two-hour duration, his narration too would extend to two hours without even omitting stunt scenes or the songs.

In his typical unassuming manner, Kenny took a short and quick study class for the staff about the school and ensured that the next visitor will be properly guided to the Durbar Hall without hassles.

And spreading a smile on their faces we entered the Durbar Hall to be received by Suresh, wife and children with a broader smile proving that our assumption was wrong.

"Roy and Johny are expected soon," he said adding Roy had gone to meet one more old student to ensure his participation. "That's why he is not here now." Very few students studied at the school from nursery to Standard X. Most of us left the school when in Standard VIII.

"The reason was obvious," Roy said. "Everybody thought it was difficult to pass ICSE. So some of the students opted for state syllabus. The fact was that the school scored a centum."

Another half an hour and a glass of juice (a mix of mango pulp and a carbonated drink, refreshingly good) saw the hall filling to capacity.

THE MOOD

"For the last one month she has been talking to me only about May 24," said Sasi, husband of Preetha. It summed up the mood among us. "Everyday she will have something to add as soon as I reached home from office," he said. "Such was her excitement."

"Did it affect your food," asked Haja, as jocular as he used to be.
***
"It's me," a sudden shrieking sound of a child had everyone of us on our toes and we gathered around the boy. He was pointing to a child in a black-and-white photograph Roy brought with him. The child had successfully traced his father in the picture.

THE BEGINNING

A hurriedly set-up registration counter manned by Kenny saw 26 registrations within minutes. A majority have come accompanied by spouse and children. The hall had become lively. Laughter filled the air. Everybody was talking to everyone and comparing them with those in the old photographs. The change in hairstyle, wearing of specs, mannerisms formed the essence of the talks. There were exceptions too -- those who have not changed a bit. Like Joseph, who was remaining a bachelor buttressing the point in the proverb "Kochi kandavanu achi venda" meaning those who have seen Kochi doesn't need a wife. Some like Srigopal and Hafiz were seen striking business deal.

"From your smile I knew who you are."

"As bald as before."

"How do you maintain your fat tummy."

"You still walk with a lean."

"Do you draw now."

"Hey, what happened to your beard."

"Your Malayalam has improved."

"Do you still vend comic books."

Thus went the dialogues punctuated with hearty laughter and witty responses.

THE EVENT

Since most of those present were guests as well as organisers, inauguration of the show was a tamed affair. The function began with a silent prayer. Suresh started with a brief description on how things shaped up.

"Two long years," he said "of thinking, planning and consultations among a small group of available former students in Kochi led to this event happening here. It started with a regular get-together on Sundays at the Marine Drive which got extended to picnics and tours on holidays."

As soon as the idea of roping in all the former students sprouted the group was recharged. Everybody put in his mite to contact as many persons as possible. A list was prepared and what followed was a chain effect.

With Prince giving an e-angle to the efforts by starting an exclusive group on the net, fishing out missing links gained momentum. Information flew thick and fast. Roy, a specialist in 'satellite' information gathering, ensured that everything is perfect.

INTRODUCTIONS

Formal introductions followed. Pearls of wisdom, emotional outbreaks, jokes about school days and happenings in one's life after leaving the school weaved a colorful pattern as if in a kaleidoscope.

"I was crazy," said Hafiz narrating the struggles he had undergone after studies. "I was running like a mad dog. Going after anything. I just wanted everything. Reality struck me when one day my wife gently reminded me: "Dear, you have even forgotten to smile."

That was true, he continued. Even during happy occasions, when everybody was cracking silly jokes and laughing I was having my nose up. Then I decided, enough is enough. I was yearning for a change when I received the e-mail about the alumni meeting. I flew all the way from Qatar just to reconnect. I am very happy now, his face lit up as we used to see him in the classroom.

Haja too was specific about maintaining relationships. He explained how painful it was when a relationship breaks for frivolous reasons and sometimes for no reason at all.

Geevarghese brought in memories of Chacko Sir, for whom corporal punishment was a way of life. "I was nicknamed neivarghese," he said. (Nei in Malayalam means ghee).

CYCLING AND WATER SUPPLY

Very few escaped Chacko Sir's novel methods of "cycling" and "muttadi water supply," pointed out Prince. Using nails of his thumb and forefinger Sir used to catch hold of the culprit's ear and start pinching it in a rhythmic manner. As the rotation of nails acquires momentum, the victim starts shaking his legs vigorously as if he is pedalling a cycle. That's "cycling," for the uninitiated.

The other one was far more severe.

Chacko Sir enters a classroom with a long bamboo cane and shouts at the top of his voice. Anybody who is indisciplined or perceived to be indisciplined is called to the front and asked to bent with hands on his knees.

Swishhhh.... goes the cane on the victim's buttocks. His knees (muttu in Malayalam) start trembling. Anticipation of further assaults opens up bowels and 'water supply' follows.

"It was me who tamed Chacko Sir," Haja remembers. None of his tricks worked. He had to patch up with me.
"I am indebted to my friends," an emotionally choked Camillus, one of the best artist the school has seen, said. When his eyes began to well, Bijo chipped in: "Yes, he was rescued from Kottethodu -- a small canal that passed near the school."

Camillus fell into the canal during a football game. Everyone enjoyed the scene. But when he started gasping for breath, smiles turned to shrieks of panic. Immediately Bijo, Hafiz and others jumped into the canal and rescued him.

The canal has a very special feature, someone from the back row said. "Its pungent smell never leaves you."

"No wonder some of you were readily recognised by others as soon as you entered the hall" the comment from 'back benches.'

[Usually Hafiz is regularly assigned the job of goal keeper by Vinod, who was an expert in the sport. Vinod's speciality is that he stammers but not while singing. Cricket was yet to catch up the fancy of students. Vattavar -- no English translation available -- was the most popular game. Kailas -- did not attend the function -- and Mathew alone were seen with transistor radios (another amazing product of the time) glued to their ears to hear cricket commentary.]

Whenever there is a drawing or painting competition in the school, it only mattered who became second. The first place is assured -- Camillus. He was a specialist in '3D imaging.' And the way he used to go to the details was amazing. For example, when he draws a car, he identifies various patterns on the tyres. His deft hands used to bring life out of any piece of paper, using a pen or pencil.

Johny said he was so busy in life that even marriage was held recently. None in our class can forget Johny. For, he initiated many of us to 'serious reading.' He was magnanimous in distributing freely and with utmost secrecy 'CID Moosa,' 'Irumbukai Mayavi,' etc. We were yet to discover Tintin and Asterix.

Sunil's introduction of himself as the most obedient boy of the class evoked waves of laughter in the hall. "I was so obedient that once the principal asked me ' very humbly' if any other school in the district was willing to take me as a student."

"But I was the most silent boy," Nibu chipped in. "Yes. Chacko Sir's cane knew him very well," came a comment from the backbenchers. "And your mother was summoned to school every week."

Preetha, Sethulakshmi and Jeena -- the only female representations -- were astonished that the boys really enjoyed their student days. "And you have such vivid memories of those days," they said. "Because you were interested only in scoring marks," retorted backbenchers.

At this stage Haja intervened to say how he used to swap tiffin boxes of girls without their knowledge during recess (mind you, there were no intervals).

"Since most of us carried similar type of tiffin boxes it was not easy to identify. Only when you open it you understand that it was not yours." Josey was a regular victim of this vanishing act. "He used to bring dried prawns everyday," said Johny. "But he never tasted it. We were the ones who relished on it."

Suresh had an interesting observation too to make regarding the system prevailed in the school, which might have made the gap between boys and girls wider lessening the scope for interaction.

"Yes," Preetha said. "I have never spoken to any of the boys in the class during our studies. It was in the last two months I have spoken to Suresh."

"There was strict seating arrangements. Boys were on one side and girls the other side. And the severest punishment to boys at that time was to make him sit between two girls. It was considered an insult," Johny said.

So girls were treated as enemies rather than friends. May be vice versa too. None of the 'girls' responded to it, so we are yet to know their view point.

Language too was a factor. It was a strict NO to speaking in Malayalam. The only students who used to speak English fluently was Sethulakshmi and Chanchal (did not attend the function).

"I was garlanded with a board saying that 'I will not speak in Malayalam' for using some Malayalam words," remembers Suresh. A fine was also imposed on students if the law is broken. And myself had to write an imposition 1,000 times that 'I will not speak in Malayalam.'

LUNCH

In between, lunch was announced. And yet again we mingled freely to talk to as many persons as possible. The menu was also e-mailed to many of the participants very early. Aappam, chicken, mutton, fried rice, salad, ice-cream vanished into thin air. We were supposed to wind up by 3 p.m.

Time was running out. BoneyM was playing "By the rivers of Babylon..." inside the hall. I liked to rephrase it thus: "By the side of Kottethod... there's a school...hey hey we were there..." Outside, rain remained a witness to the fun.

PHOTO SESSION

When the house reassembled it was announced that there will be three photo sessions. One exclusively of the students. Second along with spouses and children. And finally individual's family photos. It was a sad reminder that it was time to disperse.

TAMBOLA
A game of tambola revived the spirits of children. They actively sold tickets and were able to raise Rs. 1,000. The air-conditioning system failed. Or was it switched off as we have exceeded our time limits?
VOTE OF THANKS

Who should thank whom was the problem faced by Kenny. In his inimitable style he did the job satisfactorily. Prince reminded again: "We are leaving now only to meet again. Let's make it an annual event."

Mercifully, the rain has stopped. A small group agreed to meet immediately at the nearest waterhole for a rewind of the events!
Curtains.
POSTSCRIPTS
1. May 24 is the 114th day of the year (145th in leap years) in the Gregorian calendar, says Wikipedia. There are 221 days remaining until the end of the year. But for us, it was just seven days remaining for the Silver Jubilee year of our exit from Seventh Day Adventist school in 1983 to conclude.

2. It was on May 24, 1830, Sarah Josepha Hale published the nursery rhyme "Mary had a little lamb."

It's physics, honey

2009-05-16T17:29:00.010+05:30

The verdict is out.

Mathematics and chemistry have failed miserably.

The surprise winner is physics.

The efforts of spin doctors who played with permutations and combinations with the help of calculus went in vain.

Chemical analysts who tried to harvest pheromones ended up with acid burns.

The silent voter, who watched the whole tamasha without even a smile, stole the show.

That is how Indian democracy works.

A majority of the rural electorate -- who has a hand-to-mouth existence and rarely has the time or the means to watch the high-decibel verbal duels sponsored under arc lights -- scared of the likely turn of events in case the next government is forced to rely on mathematicians and chemists, exercised their right to choose with decisiveness and a vengeance.

Fed up of kichidi they went for an easily digestible fare from the menu offered.

It was proved that curry leaves and mustard are good for seasoning but not consumable as standalone dishes.

Those relied heavily on ratios, equations and horses were majestically told that Enough is Enough.

The voters chose their elective subject as physics.

They said: E = mc2

Translated ELECTED MEANS MODERATION AND CREDIBILITY SQUARED

Jai Ho!

Security concerns

2009-03-25T22:22:00.009+05:30

An emergency meeting of the Kanjikuzhi Village Panchayat held under the big banyan tree at midnight, this day, resolves to shift the venue of the International Kabadi League from the usual temple grounds to a suitable and more secure place considering the perceived threat to its peaceful conduct following the chief security officer, Head Constable, of the village panchayat going on leave for an undisclosed number of days and elections to its Wards clashing with the dates of the event.

Point of Order raised by the Leader of the Opposition regarding venues overruled.

The honourable Village Panchayat President clarifies that the venue will be kept a secret till the tournament is over as a counter strategy to outsmart any terrorist move to sabotage the mega event.

The number of clubs participating in the event will be restricted to two as a measure to bring down the expenses in the times of recession. Each participating team should restrict the number of players to one.

(The Village Panchayat Secretary has suggested that they can play any number of innings under different team names so as to bring down the cost).

Suggestion accepted.

But there will not be any reduction in the number of officials accompanying the teams as attempts to do so will ultimately affect the smooth conduct of the event and also the comfort levels of the players. Cheer leaders will have priority in terms of accommodation, food and travel.

(The Village Panchayat Secretary expresses his willingness to take up the responsibility of managing officials and cheer leaders).

Administrative sanction accorded.

Live telecast of the event will not be allowed for security reasons but commentary is permitted.

(The Village Panchayat Secretary suggests setting up of a commentary box at the Village Panchayat office itself irrespective of where the matches are held since chances of visuals contradicting spoken words are nill. It will save on expenditure).

Suggestion accepted.

Point of order by the Leader of the Opposition on the list of participants, officials, cheer leaders and audience overruled. He sneezes, weeps and walks out of the meeting (for a cup of tea).

Sneezing and weeping are un parliamentary and hence to be removed from the records.

The honourable Village Panchayat President clarifies that the Leader of the Opposition is free to accompany the teams. He walks in (with bajji, bonda).

It is resolved that all annual events such as International Jallikettu League, International Uthrattathi Vallomkali League, International Vadomvali League, International Dusserah League, International Holi League, International Deepavali League and International Indian Union Muslim League, hereafter, will be held at undisclosed and more secure venues.

To ensure the security of each villager of the Kanjikuzhi Village Panchayat, manifestos will be distributed free of cost before and after the elections.

(Panchayat Secretary says to cut down cost, copies of manifestoes be pasted on the banyan tree itself instead of distributing them).
Suggestion noted; decision to be taken at a later stage.

The revenue generated from these events will be equally distributed between the Village Panchayat President, the Village Panchayat President and the Village Panchayat President and the V....

Nothing more could be heard as angry and agitated members shouts out the president. The meeting adjourns sine die.

Politico Sushe

2009-03-07T23:59:00.010+05:30

The fun has begun.

With the Elected Commisions of Indians announcing the dates for the Great Indian Circus.

The Chief acquired a permanent look-left posture throughout the drama because his bete noire, whom he wanted to unseat is seated to his right.
If food is not served how can fun be fun?

Any festival remains incomplete if tummy is not filled.

So here's Politico Sushe (pronunciation: Su as in zoo and She as in creche) for the poor Indian voter (ensure that you keep your Electoral Photo Identity Card ready, in case food is not served on a platter).

Ingredients

Elephant leg (available at all Maya stores) -- 30 pieces

Corngressed -- 130 g

Saffron 130 g

Red Chilli 25 to 30

Daal -- not available hence not to be used

Moolie (Mulayam variety) crushed 10 to 12

Lal Mirchi 15 to 20

Reliable Oil (Anil variety) -- according to needs

(Do not confuse Red Chilli with Lal Mirchi. The former is grown in Bengal and Kerala and the latter in Bihar)

Curry leaves (in Twos -- specially nurtured in Poes Garden) -- 25 to 30

Ensure that either Corn or Saffron is used during the final process. Never add both. It may spoil the party.

Preparation

Take a cauldron.
Fill it with water up to the brim (please note that water is the main ingredient of this dish).

Heat it using dry leaves, logs of wood. Cooking by any other means shall be unconstitutional and will invite the wrath of ECI.

When the water boils, stir it after adding salt (specially used to rub wounds). When it reaches the halfway mark, add elephant legs and close it with a lid. If possible the cook(s) can sit on it.

Note that too many c(r)ooks do not spoil the broth as is the usual belief.

After 30 minutes add water.

Wait till it boils again.

Add water and all other ingredients except Corngressed and Saffron.

Add water.

Now pour half of the broth to another cauldron.

Add water to both the vessels.

Season it using Reliable Oil

Boil.

Now add Congressed to one cauldron and Saffron to the other.

Add water.

Boil.

Check patience level of guests.

Give them water if absolutely necessary.

Do not allow anyone to enter the kitchen and bolt it from inside.

Because midnight dramas (Call Sonia Save India variety) are not allowed this time.

'Jai Ho' can be belted out for the time being.

Now set the table for 272.

Serve hot Congressed Sushe in Gandhi Topi and Saffron Sushe in lotus leaves. Add cold water to each serving.

See which cauldron gets emptied fast.

Dig out Archimedes from the grave. Gag him lest he cries Ureka.

Give him one week time to prove that his method of exhaustion to calculate the area under the arc of a parabola with the summation of an infinite series is still valid and accurate.

Do not give him water during this period.

Ensure that he fails.

Return him to the roots.

Hoist the Tricolour.

Disperse.

Let slumdogs relish on the leftovers, if any.

The First Family -- return of the prodigal

2009-02-19T18:51:00.010+05:30

His arrival was not without much fanfare. Kotha, (his mother, for the uninitiated) had made all the arrangements.
She informed her club members, including Mayamohini -- the local pleasure executive -- well in advance about her only son's return to the roots and ensured that they lined up at the arrival launch of the airport with brickbats (and bouquets, if necessary).
And as was the usual practice, Koran was asked to sit at home or rather, under the coconut tree.
Smoking a cigar Qui Than flowed perfectly into the waiting hands of his mother and her friends.
And crushing the cigar between the forefinger and thumb he quipped: "Slum dogs."
Basking in the purity of the first spoken word, the waiting crowd too yelled: "Jai Ho."
Local airport reporter Swaravahini couldn't describe the scene as her vision was blurred with tears and emotion choked her words. The television crew members had a difficult time controlling her.
The crowd insisted that they disperse only after a round or two of firing into air and Jana Gana Mana. Their demand was met forthwith by an obliging Kasab and his friends.
Qui Than entered the chauffeur-driven Merc along with Mayamohini and drove away to an unknown destination.

Breaking news followed: "Footfalls at Mayamohini's recreation centre up." He immediately took note of it and passed a flying kiss to her. She melted in its warmth.
And sitting under a coconut tree, Koran smiled.

(to be continued)

V-Day

2009-02-11T19:01:00.010+05:30

Only two types of homosapiens will remain on this planet this V-Day (V for victory, victoria's secret, vagina, vegetable, valentine -- in that order):
They are the Pinks and the Punks.
Pinks dislike anything in pink -- pinkslips and pink chaddi included.
Punks like anything that is pink -- wine with soda, for a change.
Come Saturday, it is going to be a Twenty20 between the Pees (pun intended).
Here are the dos and don'ts for the day.
astro
Anything will retrograde against anything as planets tend to line up in an equilateral position that is impossible to penetrate with or without protection gear.
power dressing
Avoid at any cost. Lion-tailed macaques are the flavour of the day. Straightjackets are best suited for the occassion.
for the palate
Smashed onion with tomato and red chillies.
gift
Yellow thread, rings, kumkum (diluted).
drink
Milk (hot or cold) flavoured with saffron (mangalore variety).
activity
Visit the nearest waterhole and show V sign.
resist
The temptation to set eyeballs in motion, whisper.
music
Jai ram (sene) shri ram (sene) jai jai ram fusion with pink floyd.
dance
One two-one two; left-right, let go.
for more details contact: promod muthalik, chairperson, The Consortium of Pub going, Loose and Forward Women.

The First Family

2009-02-03T23:01:00.015+05:30

Sitting under a coconut tree, on a sunny afternoon, Koran smiled.
Koran is the legendary tenant-labourer sighted usually in Kerala.
He is destined to sip Kanji -- rice soup -- from Kumbil -- cup made of plantain leaf.
And sitting under a coconut tree, on a sunny afternoon, Koran smiled -- for reasons known or unknown to him.
He cannot do otherwise.
His wife Kotha, who has a Permanent Wardrobe Malfunction Syndrome (PeWaMS) as she always sports a single-piece traditional attire, don't approve of it.
"Only gigolos smile," she says.
Their only son K.M. Qui Then (originally Koran Makan Kunhi Thevan) is expected any day from London, where he is supposed to undergo higher studies. But to the best of Koran's knowledge he is still studying in a school there -- London School of Economics.
"The moment he returns I will retire," smiles Koran.
"From what?" retorts Kotha.
"I can handover my philanthropic works to him," he smiles.
"He will have better things to do," Kotha barks.
These dialogues occur every time one among them attempts to cross another's orbit.
Coming to Koran's philanthropic works, he never calls it by any other name, they are something only he can do.
Nurturing waste land is just one of the numerous activities he undertakes.
Data pertaining to waste land, private and government, is on his finger tips.
Again by destiny, the duty to nurture them rests on his shoulders. Because it was the time when Global Village -- his native place -- is known by some other name. Koran was the sole proprietor.
And sole proprietorship was yet to find a mention in the Criminal Procedure Code.
One fine day, without sound or fury everything collapsed -- right under his watchful eyes.
And sitting under a coconut tree, one sunny afternoon, Koran smiled.
(to be continued)

potato sushe

2009-02-02T00:12:00.006+05:30

Pronunciation of Sushe: Su as in zoo and she as in creche.

It is a simple-to-make-tasty-to-eat stuff, especially for children who dislike potatoes and tomatoes.

Ingredients

Potatoes big 2 or 3

Tomatoe big 1

Onion big 1

Green chilly 2

Coconut oil 4 table spoon

Coconut milk 4 table spoon

Chilly powder 1 teaspoon (can be avoided)

Coriander powder 1 teaspoon

Sesame seeds 1 teaspoon (can be avoided)

Method

Heat coconut oil in a pan and saute sesame seeds. Add sliced onions. When it become brown add tomatoes (ensure that both are cut into very small pieces).

Add green chilly, coriander powder and chilly powder and stir for two minutes. Then add green chilly and cooked potatoes. Stir for five minutes.

Finally add coconut milk and switch off the stove.

It can be used alongwith bread or as a standalone snack.

Garnish with fresh coriander leaves. if needed.

god's own companies

2009-01-29T20:54:00.011+05:30

Raju, a footpath vendor, begins his hectic business day with a prayer on his lips and lighting a lamp in front of the picture of a God -- a calender art -- placed at a corner of his 'establishment.'

He is not alone in the endeavour of invoking God for business success.

In India almost all entrepreneurs -- sole proprietors and corporates -- begin their day with similar rituals.

For them, to run a business, God is an integral part -- an Invisible Director or partner as the case may be -- in the scheme of things.

When they rake in money it's God's grace.

With ruthlessness, failures are attributed to HIM.

And shareholders?

Even those who do not know the basics of share trading, or company activities, enter the markets with hard earned money or borrowed funds.

They buy shares but do not know who the Chief Executive Officer of the company is or what the company does to enhance their share value.

If shares go up, they exult and merry make; if it is red all the way, they curse their ill-luck, pass the buck to God.

For both the parties God is a convenient shield against losses incurred through omissions or commissions.

CEOs can fail.

CFOs can fail.

Internal and external auditors can fail.

Shareholders can fail.

And finally, Gods too can fail or has to fail.

Then it becomes easy to wriggle out of the mess created knowingly (as is in most cases) or unknowingly (no notable instances) by stakeholders.

As night falls, it's time for Raju to wind up his day's business.

He packs his products. Bids farewell to God. Lights up a camphor. Leaves for home -- with hopes of a better tomorrow.

With fingers burnt, money lost, lenders breathing down the neck, a shattered shareholder too decides to take a final call on his life.

At home, his kin light up a camphor -- for his soul to rest in peace.

AND THE SAGA CONTINUES.

ice biriyani

2009-01-26T23:03:00.012+05:30

Have you tasted it?

I Googled and got more than 2,00,000 results in 0.90 seconds on ice and biriyani.

Most of them were about preparing biriyani and ice cream.

But not ice biriyani.

It seems the recipe should be patented.

No, I will not be the title holder. It goes to a daughter of a watchman near my house.

One summer afternoon she came asking for 'cool water.' I thought it might be for her father to wash down some country liquor.

"No," she said, "it's for me ...to make ice biriyani."

"Ice biriyani?" I double-checked since I was half asleep.

"Yes," she laughed. "But I will not give it to you and won't tell you its recipe... athu sollakoodathu."

I should have bartered it for the cold water. But I didn't for fear of annoying her.

This continued for two more days. I religiously kept aside a two-litre bottle of cold water for her secret portion. No questions asked.

May be she thought it was injustice on her part to take privileges from me without letting me know its preparation.

"Do you want to know," she asked.

"If it is not a horrifying task for you to explain," I said.

After a few seconds of silence she said: "Its an easy-to-make dish but not everybody will like it. I make it for my child. Of course, all of us eat it."

Whenever there is more quantity of rice available during the night it is kept aside for the next day. Same is the case with curries.

Nothing is wasted. "We cannot afford it."

The next afternoon the rice and curries are mixed along with cold water.

"It can beat any summer," she smiles.

"And my child is also happy as he too eats biriyani -- ice biriyani."

remember the time

2009-01-25T22:45:00.004+05:30

I was just going through some bundles of old papers two days ago as part of cleaning exercise at the home front.

To my great surprise and joy I found some inlands and post-cards.

Yes inlands and post-cards.

Letters to me from friends and relatives.

Letters of joy, sorrow, love.

I am not writing about some pre-historic or pre-Independence period or "When-I-was-a-child" variety.

Just 12 or 14 years down the lane.

Letter writing was still in vogue.

Or that was the only way to reach out.

No blogging, no sms, no missed calls.

My children are unable to digest it.

"Without phone how can you talk," they asked.

I showed them the blue sheets and yellow cards, every inch of them filled with words and words so as to ensure that the money spent on it is fully used.

Is letter writing becoming extinct?

Even e-mails cannot give the personal touch the blue sheet used to provide while being delivered by the khaki-clad postman.

(more on it later)

the answer

2009-01-23T16:57:00.002+05:30

Why I Blog?

I think I have the answer

I BLOG therefore I EXIST

grotesque artform

2009-01-21T23:36:00.010+05:30

Is Kathakali a grotesque artform?

How popular is it?

Even at the time of conceiving it Kathakali was never meant for the common man, it seems.

By any yardstick, Ottanthullal can be called a popular artform rather than Kathakali. It was staged for the ordinary people and appreciated by them -- even now.

Kathakali was confined to the courtyards or temple premises usually belonging to the elite. The rich costumes, the complex lyrics and mind-boggling mudras were for the wealthy and those educated to appreciate it.

It was enjoyed (or forced to enjoy) by antharjanam, who did not have any other avenue for entertainment or denied any, outside their dwelling units.

At a time when channels beam unlimited sops 24x7, Kathakali, which can be appreciated only after going through a rigorous learning procedure, is just not for anybody.

So it has to return to where it belonged to or originated from -- elite's courtyards.

Is there any necessity to make it popular?

What does it mean?

Ask popular cine artistes to perform it wearing trendy costumes and accompanied by pop music?

now what

2008-10-20T23:16:00.003+05:30

markets are showing signs of regaining investor confidence.
will it bounce back to 20,000 levels?
will it be range bound?

what is the expectations on Deepavali day?

when markets crashed

2008-03-14T23:20:00.001+05:30

It was nice to hear them discuss apples going up.
Markets too were going up.
Suddenly, skies felt too much apples can spoil the party.
It started raining.
Rain drops formed oceans.
Oceans of tragic stories.
It was losses all around.
Markets have become untouchables.
But I love them.

why blog

2008-03-14T23:06:00.001+05:30

I have to find out
Hope I will soon