Pleasing the rain God !

The rains have played hide and seek. Especially with the Met Department. Turning up when the Met writes off. And pouring through the roof, when there is 'No Chance' of rain ! That apart, the municipal corporation has effected a 30 % water cut which has had 100 % of the media make 150 % more noise !

Suddenly, the prospect of the next summer going without water in the tap, is very real. And as suddenly as that, there are newspaper clippings, figuring on the apartment's notice board. Asking all to 'spend water wisely' !

And of course, there are these small notices which have periodically appeared just outside the apartment lift. Like this one. "As per BMC Notice, there will be short supply of water. Please co-operate' !


You cant miss such notices. And if you are in a naughty mood, 'please co-operate' can conjure up many interesting things for your mind.

But quite often, there is conversation about this 'notice' in the lift. All the way up. A conversation that dies off, only when people reach their respective floors.

Ranging from the most common 'This is ridiculous' to other strands of 'What do they expect us to do. Dig wells here? or "why don't they just drill ten more wells here, we will all pay types". ( All in accents of a distinctly foreign land which i spell as 'HBO').

Contempt for mother Earth & mankind and/or wearing stupidity as a valour medal get my gut. They look at me and other 'dimwits who preach conservation' with a certain unconcealed disdain which is fully reciprocated.

Many times i wonder if the rain Gods are playing hide & seek just to have some fun at the expense of such folks. That's my grand premise.

Anyways, here i am. In the lift. And there is a family : husband, wife. two kids. And they converse. Between them, of course. I know this gent. On previous occasions, we have had, lets put it this way, 'differences of opinion' on water conservation.

And so, the man goes on. 'These admin fellows, they are not going to get any result with such generic messages like 'please co-operate'. They must mention, exactly what we should do to conserve water. With a double emphasis on EXACTLY.

'Yes. Yes'. I go in my mind. Looking into the corners of the lift. They have to tell you EXACTLY how many litres of water you need to wash your teeth, clean your face. And of course, they have to tell you to close the tap tight. To wash cars lesser ...just to think of water.To educate your children...... THEY have to tell you all of that !

And just as i was thinking that, the kid says, 'big deal dadda. Don't take bath. Apply the extra perfume. Which you anyways do every weekend'. With a similar double emphasis on 'EVERY'

My eyes try to look into the man's eyes. He looks at me. For a brief while. He then looks away to search for mysterious cobwebs in a super clean lift. Theres a deafening silence.

I don't know about the rain God. But i am having a ball. But you know what, since then, we have been having rains. Serious rains.

Pleasing the rain God !

Whizz Theory !

There. I stand close to the door of the train. There is one another gent standing right at the door. A polite request to have some more space to click a few snaps has just been met with a stern silence and a sterner look.

'What audacity to ask. I came here, first'. The look seems to suggest.

The sun beats down the other side of the train. I keep this door open. And I stay here.

And watch. As everything whizzes by. Everybody whizzes by. Women walking to work. Men lazing around. And the other way. White fences of the Indian railways. An old man standing by a puddle.


Ducks going about whatever they do in water. Still lakes. Lakes that were. Stiller mountains. Far away songs. A revving engine. Old men beneath coconut trees. Children in the green fields. Barren lands. All of them whizz by.

An 'Abandoned' railway shed. Fences. Platforms. Station masters. Pictures of Laloo Prasad and a few others. Some green and red flag holding gent. All of them whizz by.






Everything whizzes by. In super speed. I keep clicking.

I wonder at the speed at which life whizzes by. And then, it strikes me. Actually, everything else stays. Its actually the train that i am in, whizzing by ! All else stays put. And just because i am on something that whizzes by, i think of all else as whizzing by !

'Can this be some grand theory ?' I wonder. 'At least a corollary or whatever they call it?' As i keep clicking. 'Whizz theory' I tell myself.. Or may be 'the theory of the moving train!'




From somewhere, the missus turns up. She has just had her tea. She sights the camera in hand. "you are at it. Already?'

All other thoughts including the whizz theory whizz away! 'hmm' I say.

'Whats on your mind' she says.

And i think of the Whizz theory. I look at the watch. Its not even 7.00 am. Its way too early to start the day on that note. And tell her....



' Actually, i think hmm... actually, you know, i wonder why would the railways want to differentiate by more than 50 % between taking a bath and...' as i click this picture.

She sees the writing on the wall! Face palms. And gets started. About me. My mind. About water. About conservation. About men. And habits.

I wonder where the conversation would have gone if i had started out with my whizz theory. I know for sure it would have gone somewhere.

I wonder..I wonder what i would do without her.

Whizz Theory !

Footboarding

clicked at Madurai. Aug '08

This is about a form of travel. Called 'Footboard' !

It principally involves having one leg...no. Perhaps one half of one toe on the footboard of a bus, and clutch any part of the bus with an intensity that would do a lizard in a earthquake ridden building, proud. Just hold on.

And gather all the strength from wherever. And of course, you are not alone. There are many others that are going shoulder to shoulder, toe-to-toe with you. Actually, that should be 'any-body-part' to 'any-body-part' with you !

And of course, there are accidents. Life and limb are lost.

And Tamil movies have eulogised this sequence as one where 'love blossoms' ! As the heroine exchanges love struck glances from inside the bus, and the hero stays suspended in air. The movies of course, don't show the suspension-in-thin-air as a harbinger of what awaits the hero after the marriage. Of course !

You have had many classmates in college doing this routine. Every single day, commuting to college and back. Looking for the most crowded of the buses. To demonstrate how much they can stay suspended!

They ridicule you. For you would never do it. Telling you that you dont have enough courage. You know deep within, that they perhaps are true.

clicked in a village in TN. June '09

And you meet some of them. Many years later, long after they married. To women that didn't travel with them in those crowded buses. They are a balded. Have children. They earn a good living. And speak of 'those' days with affection riddled nostalgia !

And say. 'We were plain lucky to survive.' And one of them casually lets go. "As a matter of fact i couldnt do much with the meagre money my dad made. Life had to be lived. Heroism was the cloak to sport'.

You wince.

He smiles. And goes on. 'See it made chaps like you envy us !'

You smile a weak smile. And think of your the parent lottery you won when you were born. To the folks that you were born to.

And you see change all around.

And you look at the buses now. And find that some sport a fresh tilt to them. Even now. And now you know, that the tilt has many reasons. Wooing was one. Just one. ''Living'" was the big one that you didn't think of. Back then.

Living. Sometimes, at the expense of life.

Footboarding

Drives. Part - II

Read Part - I here

Its morning. Meenakshi temple at Madurai. We stand outside in the queue. There is a puja on, inside. And we are in the queue. And i watch this man, with a giant 'fan' made of peacock feathers.

With one sweeping movement of his old frail hands holding the giant fan, he directs some still air onto sweat drenched devotees.

Young. Old. Rich. Poor. Everybody. For a brief, a very brief moment, are comforted with that muscle powered gust. And i watch. As i have been watching him ever since i was a small kid.

His frail frame gives away the fact that he has kept at 'fanning' for a long time. And he keeps at it. Even when nobody was watching. Even when nobody specifically asked for it. His body is frailer. The man himself has become older. The fan, though, with peacock feathers et al is the same.

What must drive the likes of this old man? I don't know. He doesn't give a clue.




Its another morning. Madurai. And i walk by this sugarcane juice machine. Its too early for the familiar sugarcane juice vendor. But he will be in. Soon.

To stow in the sugarcane, and give that wheel a strong twist, arching every sinew and causing his biceps to bulge. And of course, some there would be some fresh juice for thirsty throats ! My brother has been a regular here. For 20 plus years.

Ever since the price of sugarcane juice was Re. 1/-. In 20 odd years, the price of sugarcane juice has moved by all of 6 rupees. And the chap is still at it. At the same roadside. Sugarcane. With the same Wheel. And all.

He gives you a good glass full. His glasses are clean. He does not overcharge. He adds that dash of ginger and cuts open those giant ice cubes. To be just right for the juice that you are drinking. Every single time, with a perfection of a 6 sigma factory ! For 20 plus years. Modern day corporate world will dub him strange names.

Thats immaterial. For he is a happy man.

What is material to this post is this : What drives this man? I don't know. The wheel doesn't give a clue.

And then these last lines on the memorial rush back to the mind. 'his love of justice and his kindly heart endeared him to all classes of the community. and thus he bore without abuse, the grand old name of Gentleman'.

There is an elegance in a pioneers work. And theres another elegance in the lives of ordinary men and women. Who go about living this 'one life'.

And i think. Of that giant peacock fan. And that wheel. And wonder. About life. People. Men. And their drives.

Drives. Part - II

Drives - 1

Its evening. And on the banks of the lake, in Kodai, i spot this memorial structure. In the name of Sir Vere Henry Levince Baronet.

' I haven't heard of that name before'. I think. And so, whats written at the base of the memorial perks my eyes. And i peer through the evening dusk. And read. ( and reproduce from the photograph with minor punctuation changes)

"In memory of Sir Vere Henry Levince Baronet of Knockdrin Castle, Westeath, Ireland and formerly of the Madras Civil Service, born 26th Nov 1819, died at Madras 22nd March 1885

After a long service in the districts of Tinnevely and Madura where he won the sincere respect and affection of the people, he settled in 1867 at Kodaikanal and lived at Panmbar house until within a few weeks of his death.

To him are due nearly all the improvements which this settlement possesses

A true friend to the poor, no one however humble appealed to him in vain, while his upright character, his love of justice and his kindly heart endeared him to all classes of the community European and native. And thus he bore without abuse, the grand old name of Gentleman."

I shake my head in disbelief and think that he must have been some man. I wonder, how it must have been in the early part of the 18th century. To travel all the way from Ireland. Set up base here. Work in Madurai and Tirunelveli. And the, trek all the way up into the Kodai hills and live there for many years

( It took us all of metalled roads, a Japanese engine, Italian tyres and Indian ingenuity and two hours to reach this place. I shudder to think of the 1845 effort !!)

The disbelief stays. What must have driven the likes of Sir Vere Henry Levince Baronet ? I don't know.

His memorial inscriptions are carved in stone. And don't bother answering that question.

Drives - 1

Inconvenience Regrated !

Did you know Kodak retired Kodachrome. Their iconic film.

Do you remember the time....When a clicking a snap was a big thing. When you had to go buy a film ( after ensuring it was original & make a choice between the 24 snaps or 36 snaps variety). And load it without exposing it to light.

And click with great care. Remove with care. Go to a store to have it printed. For some Rs.6/- for one snap ! Seems to have been in the stone age. If i were to apply that costing to the randomness of my clicks with the digital camera, well, i could have bought myself something....!

But technology helps me indulge. Digital technology emboldens. To click as many snaps as i want. Like looking at signboards and spotting mistakes. As though, i cried a meaningful English lullaby, all by myself when i was born !

And as i look at each of the snaps below, i thank God for spellchecker. And get reminded of good friends like Ganesh. Who call me up all the way from Bangalore when i make 'errors' ! ( like writing 'he was quiet impressed' ) !

So here are a few that i spotted in Kodaikanal. People have their quirks. And this is one of mine, to look at signboards !

Please bear with me & take a look !

So there. That's that.

No more on signboards. ( For sometime, ok). I promise. Regular writing will resume soon.
Ok. Inconvenience is....Here's one more to state that more convincingly. One that i spotted on JVLR, Mumbai. Yesterday !

Inconvenience Regrated !

And so you are back.

And so you are back. After many miles of journey. Roads. Hills. Air. Air pockets. Fields. Villages. Malls. And all of that.

You are back to where you live. And you wonder how right they were. When they said 'time flies'. You feel this time around, time took the expressway !

But then, its still isn't long off your memory. One look at the 2500 plus snaps clicked over the 15 days, and your mind rejigs and brings to the fore the exact feeling at the moment captured on camera. You realise you itch to tell the world as many stories as there are photographs. And then you choose some in random.


Like this one. When your heart skipped a beat to see a seeming synchronicity in randomly arraigned coconut trees set against a blue backdrop on the banks of a spanking new highway. Made on agricultural land.


Or to see this man pedal his bicycle, with a lady seated behind. And wonder, when last you saw this scene. And then have your taxi driver tell you that these villagers pedal 17 kilometers one way, to reach the nearest hospital. And your eyes auto squint, thinking of life.







Or to see a far away temple set in the middle of banana plantation. And look towards the sky in awe and wonder about this concept of the 'faith' ! And think of the tall towers of Meenakshi temple. And then the small precincts of the family temple. And see faith standing on firm foundations.




And then, you saw stern faces stare at you as they traveled in a lorry meant for goods. And think of the stern face & heaps of abuse hurled by the passenger sitting next to you on the flight, because the air hostess didn't respond 'in time'




And you think of this boat. By that lake in Berijum. And reaffirm. That nature soothes a lost soul. Like no other.

And as the memory still is fresh and tumble in one after another, you realise. You are back. With new respect. For life. For living. For people. For dreams. For mother Earth. And your own self.

That you saw what others saw. Yet saw what many others didn't.

And as you type that line, you wonder, if that sounds boastful. And then, you recall conversations with many here. Those stoical faces and 'ah-there-you-go' smiles. And you let that line remain.

And you know. You can go on and on. But you realise. You have got to stop somewhere, somehow. You are thankful for many things. And one of them, is for the love of readers of this blog. For that, you realise, you ought to be immensely thankful.

So you quickly end, where it all started. By stating, 'And so, you are back'.

And so you are back.

Bound by chains !

My morning walks acquaint me with scooters. In chains ! For a few days, i didn’t quite know what these scooters bound in chains signified.

Some wise man had said that man was born free, but was found in chains everywhere. But scooters ? This was indeed new.

And then, I was introduced to a ‘driving’ school for women. Which parked their bikes here. All chained together.

And in the morning, when the learners come up, the locks are removed and the unchained scooters come alive with an array of women with scooters marked ‘L’ signifying ‘a learner’.

‘Learning breaks down chains’ they say. Seems to be true here. And right here, it’s the chains that were latched on by the learning school ! The belief in the securing objects reigns here.

When not in use, objects are chained. There is still hope that the mind stays unchained. To the dark ages of the past.

Bound by chains !