Chennai to Trichy.

Boarded a day train on our annual trip to Srirangam.

I had brought a whole lot of magazines and newspapers intending to finish them in the 5 hours journey and thus be abreast of happenings in and around me.

After an hour of concentrating over the contents,all the while studiously ignoring the noisy chatter of two young women seated besides me, I happened to look out of the window. I saw the gentle waves of a huge sea like dark blue lake ,lapping very close to the tracks. A small, dark and wiry man clad only in a meagre lower garment and a red piece of cloth wound as a turban around his head bobbed into view as he came out of the cover of overhanging creepers and branches, on a small catamaran and pushed it into the middle of the lake by digging a long pole into the bed of the lake .Showing his back to the train.

The Chengal pattu lake, an hour journey from Chennai , shook me out of the rut . From the glut of information , views and analysis. I rolled the mags and the papers and stuffed them into the net ,provided for the very purpose on the back of the seat, in front of me.The scenery outside was much more interesting, invigorating and at the same time soothing.

Thence forward I was in a green daze. Dark green paddy fields in slabs of various dimensions, bordered either by purple stalks and pale green leaves of sugar cane groves, or by blackish green ,cone shaped casuarina trees. Their presence ,away from the coast ,their natural habitat is mystifying.Silhouettes of palm trees looking like the rotating coloured lights used on a stage also bordered the fields.

There were also golden coloured fields , the ripening grain waving in the wind as well as rust coloured fields with the harvested rice heaped in a corner along side bundles of fresh hay.Some fields had stubs pointing to the sky . The remnants of the recent harvesting of the Sambha crop.

Side by side fresh and tender rice saplings are being transplanted. Their colour,a delicious shade of parrot green .The cycle goes on !

In one stretch the greenery rolled on as far as the eyes could see and beyond!They were neatly divided into small and subtle green carpets by narrow clay bunds.It at once brought brought to my mind Bharathiyar's soulful yearning ,

"Khani nilam vendum Parashakthi , kani nilam vendum"---meaning,

I want a piece of land, to call it my own , grant me this wish 'Parashakthi!'

He was voicing the aspirations and dreams of every person born on this earth .

It is also the dream of every city dweller though owning a flat or a house, to own a patch of land in a village, away from the bright lights of the city and raise crops. To plough and prepare the land , sow seeds and water it and nurture the plants and harvest the rich yield.A short lived dream. Is it possible to lead such a simple life ? Away from the amenities, entertainments,from the reassuring sound of a passing motorbike late at night,the crowds in shopping centres, temples and beach,in which one can get lost and escape from one's self and various other distractions one is used to , all through one's life in a city?

My train of thoughts was rudely shaken by the woman sitting next to me. She was demanding as of right, my destination. The usual question posed by total strangers in a train to start a conversation.She was also munching, on a mollaga bhajji [ long chillies,not hot, dipped in besan and deep fried] served with watery chuttni, that was spilling all over,by the railway caterers towards tea time.

They were a group of 5 women, returning to their home in Trichy after 10 days tour of Delhi and Agra. To attend special classes on teaching special children.The deaf, dumb and the blind!Of late I seem to have a close connection with the disabled especially the blind.They are teachers in a school run by an NGO [intl], which was footing all their travel expenses and hotel bills

The dusky young woman seated next to me in the course of mutual transference of information said that she was appalled by the the tobacco stains and dirt of Agra ,the signature of most North Indian towns according to her, but was bowled totally over by the beauty of Taj mahal.She was full of praise for Delhi at its cleanliness and the broad tree lined avenues and literally shivered whilst reliving the patriotic fervour that Delhi evoked in her,especially after a visit to Indira Ghandhi's memorial.

As we sped on I didn't see a single stray cattle or goat or sheep. Unlike the free run they have in our cities and towns they are tethered or herded by boys or by old men or women.The paddy fields are largely ,unfenced.

Came out of the green haze as plastic covers littering vacant spaces and fluttering in the wind stared at me rudely alerting me to the imminent arrival of a city.

Trichy was just 5 minutes away!

Goatee. [comments on a blog ]

This dandy with a goatee,

Is bandying, high morality,

After bundling away my booty!

Am I daft not to recognise' graft'? [scribblingzzzzzzzzz]

Or the earlier retches on my 'sketches'? [asdf]

A grandfather's dream.

I enjoyed my summer vacation in Ranchi RajBhavan as a child[6-8 years] when my maternal grandfather presided over Bihar as its Governor.

My brothers , a troop of cousins and I splashed in the swimming pool joyously, played hide and seek in the numerous rooms and got lost in their depths several times, chased each other on sprawling lawns and cooled ourselves in the luxuriant spray of enchanting fountains.

Our meals were sumptuous, the gigantic dining table fully laden with delicious foods and the bearers were ever ready to serve us ice creams and fruit salads.My grand father was always absent in this massive partying ,that went on daily without fail, since he was busy with the affairs of the state. Whilst he was slogging we were enjoying a treat of a life time!

Having lost his father who was the Diwan[minister] of Trivandrum at a tender age,my grand father's child hood was one long struggle. He had to walk 15 kms to attend school in childhood!He was a brilliant student who completed his graduation and law purely on merit scholarship.He established a lucrative practise and soon became the top lawyer in Chittoor [AP].

His youth was marked by a series of tragedies.His younger brother died of tetanus having contracted it whilst shaving on the eve of his departure to Madras to pursue his graduate studies.His sister whose marriage he had performed with great difficulty , died within few months of the marriage, heart broken by the ill treatment meted out by her in -laws. On getting married ,his young wife died of child birth. His grief was so inconsolable that he resisted family pressures for years to get remarried. His only surviving sibling, elder brother, eked a very small livelihood through astrology.

My grand father could never stomach injustice. The unjust rule of the foreigners fuelled his patriotic fervour and joined the Congress party under the advise of his senior and gave full hearted support to the freedom movement. He didn't think twice in abandoning his profitable practise in response to the call made by the magnetic personality ---Ghandhiji.His participation in the freedom movement was full fledged. No half way measures .He constantly agitated against the British rule.

My mother often recalled how she and her immediate sister and brother ,in their early teens[ all are above 80 now] would burn English mill clothes on street corners ,shouting loudly 'Vande mataram' and melt away only when the mounted British police were actually upon them!She and her siblings took to wearing coarse khadhi clothes.

My grand fathers speeches drew huge crowds . Irked by his popularity The Britishers arrested him and locked him away to languish in prisons for several years . One such stretch was for 7 years . And was released on parole, for few days to perform the kanyadhan[marriage ] of my mother!


He had a big family. Married daughters who were constantly delivering babies, a bevy of unmarried daughters waiting to be married off,and sons too young to shoulder the burdens.There were also several other dependants,. More over batches of freedom fighters would seek shelter and food,on and off!My mother often recalled with humour that when my grand father's close friend Sri V.V Giri came visiting with his 16 children ,the house bore the festive appearance of a marriage hall,heightened by her own 12 siblings! It fell on his widowed mother, his wife and her brother to bear the responsibilities and they were beset with poverty and misery . Once the richest family in the town was reduced to penury!

All these hardships were borne with the hope of gaining freedom from the strangle hold of the Britishers.The dream came true.In every election my grand father stood he won with a thumping majority. He was elected MP , became the member of the constituent assembly, was then elected as the speaker of lok sabha and finally as the governor of Bihar.

It was when he was the Governor of Bihar that I remember the fabulous life.My elder brothers have memories of his life in Delhi and have seen several stalwarts of the freedom movement at close quarters, when they came visiting.

As his governorship came to an end he retired from active politics and returned to his small and poky ancestral house in one of the bye lanes of Tirupathi.He had not made a single pie out of the high offices he had held or through his political connections. Thence forward his household was maintained by his eldest son.

Thus his twilight years were spent at his home town Tirupathi. Each day was filled with activities that included promoting Sanskrit, helping indigent sadhu's and sants, and rehabilitating lepers and scavengers. Sri MGR the CM of Tamilnadu then, would often seek his counsel on matters relating to governance,, law and constitutional matters.MGR had the greatest regard towards my grandfather. He was the first to pay his condolence in person, when my grandfather died at the age of 87 at his home at Tirupathi.

In one of those fairy tale days at the luxurious raj bhavan ,he overheard us [cousins] bragging about our exalted status as the grand children of a famous man. He was not one bit flattered by this. He called us to his side and told us about his dream" I, M. Ananatha sayanm Ayengar must be known to the world as the grand father of any one or all of you and never the other way round".

Though several of his children , grand children and even great grandchildren are eminent scientists, judges, lawyers, doctors, entrepreneurs,professors,IT engineers, none have equalled , till date the sacrifice he has made for this country of ours.His dreams are yet to come true. Perhaps the future holds the key .

Rama and Krishna.

Rama and Krishna are both considered as Avatar of Vishnu or Narayana.

Hindu's are exceedingly fond of and hold in great reverence and worship either one or the other or both .

When my life was going smoothly Bhagwad Gita gifted to us by Gopala,stirred my intellectual curiosity. But in trying times ,its deep philosophy coupled with practical advise in leading a meaningful life ,was and is the greatest source of comfort.

I d like to refer to to the 8 th century Vaishnavite saint of Tamilnadu ,Thondaradi podi Aazhwaar's following verse,


Marrum vor deivam undo?madhi illa maanidangaal!

U itra podhanri neengal oruvan yendru unnara ma itteer,

Arral mel ondru ari eer avan allal deivam illai,

Surrinam meitha yendhai khazhalinai pannimin neero!


Is there any other god?Foolish men!

Unless sorrow befalls, you will not realise,

That there is no other god than he ,Gopala ,

The cowherd .Hold on to the feet of my leader firmly!


Swami Desikan ,the Vaishnavite saint and scholar of 13 th century has described the beauty of Gopala and the enchanting music flowing from his flute, in the following sanskrit verse ,

Adharahita charu vamsa nalah,

Makutalambi mayura pinchamalah|

Harinila silavibhanga - lilah,

Pratibhah santu mamantima -prayane||


May the resplendent blue effulgence of Gopala ,

reminding one of an incomparable blue sapphire ,

split to augment its glow,

with blue peacock feather decorations on his dark black hair,

and the divine flute on his attractive lips ,appear before me,

during the last moments of my life on this earth.


Rama has always been my ideal. His unswerving devotion to Dharma--that is ---purity, truthfulness, kindness, magnanimity, nobility and humility, touches a deep chord within me.

The very thought that He had traversed this sub continent by foot, sanctifying each and every inch of this vast country , tingles and inspires me.

The deep reverence I have towards Rama is in my blood and in my genes.

Vishnu Sahasarnama in the Mahabharata has 1000 names of Vishnu. The daily recitation of which assures one of attaining the ultimate bliss or Moksham.The freedom from the cycle of birth and death.

Adhi Shankara the saint and scholar of 7 th century AD refers to this eternal cycle that besets us and has also shown the way to escape this in following verses of Bhaja govindam

Punarapi jananam punarapi maranam,

Punarapi janani - jathare sayanam,

Iha samsare bahu dustare ,

Kripaya pare pahi murare.


Birth unceasing! Death unceasing!,

Ever to cross through a mother's womb!

Hard to cross is the world 's wide ocean :

Please help me in this effort, Muralidhara.

He then suggests a way out of this vexatious cycle in the following verse,

Geyam gitanama-sahasarm,

Dheyam sripatirupa-majasram,

Neyam sajjana sange cittam,

Deyam dina janaya cavittam,


Every day recite from Gita,

Chant the 1000 names of Vishnu,

Keep company with the good and holy,'

Share your riches with poor and needy.


The Vishnu Sahasarnama that is the repository of the 1000 names of Vishnu has the verse,


Sri rama rama ramethi Rame rame manorame!,

Sahasarnama thasthulyam Rama nama varaname!

which means---

The benifit acquired by chanting the 1000 names of Lord Vishnu can be had by merely chanting the name of the peerless one ,Rama, even once!

Yes , Rama is my ideal .When I am deeply pained by injustices, ill will , miseries , the memory of this noble man, who has sanctified this vast land by his very presence , assures me that all is not lost.

His spiritual presence is all prevading and is like a breath of fresh air ,of which I often take deep gulps .To clean my mind , purify my soul and to provide me with the confidence to pull on through with life.

60 ....

In my college days I eagerly awaited 'star dust', the magazine on film stars that had brash gossip ladled out in generous dollops by its female editor, supposedly a beauty queen .I devoured it to the last sentence to the last page .

Bollywood took a back seat as matrimony deflected my attention , for decades.Now as I took to reading this writers articles on the net , I couldn't help laughing at comments like....

'You are a grandma aren't you?'

'How much were you paid to write this propaganda'?

'Why isn't the toi retiring this fossil'?

'Don't attempt intellectual debates , your field is soft porn'.

And so on, from obviously young viewers no older than her sons ,maybe.

I spotted this writers book Shobaa at sixty on the pavement as well as in a store, but decided against buying it as that would entail finding a place to store it in a already crammed cupboards, I decided to wait my turn at the lending library as my sixty is still some years away,there fore Iwas in no hurry to read it , only had to put on hold the curiosity I always had for this writer's , frank expressions and observations on day to day life and relationships.I am referring to her non fictional works and not to her lurid novels.I read only one of her salacious novels and decided 'enough is enough'.And never read another of her's.

The book has finally landed on my hand.It is a I,I,I, me ,me ,me book .Purely woman to woman .
Contrary to the highly westernised, high flying public persona , Shobha de comes out as a Bharath ki 'working' Nari , except for the self confessed , repetitively ,weakness for the spirits.

A poster for Art of living.

An ode to an onion.

Shell pink in colour,

So like the romantic rose,only in colour, not in odour,

If it is peeled by none,

It is capable of making those in throne,

Cringe and shed tears in tonnes,

This tiny, pungent and weepy tuber,

Has the power ,

To make the mighty quake in fear!

Fits and jerks.

If the middle of the street is clean the corner is dirty and if the corner is clean the middle is dirty. The cleaning up process is in fits and jerks.Like an old car revving up vehemently, all of a sudden, after several pushes only to slip into trance like reverie ,no sooner the pressure is relaxed..

The song on my lips that vanishes now and then ,only to be back in a full throated soprano is

"I ve been walking these streets so long ,

Singing the same old song........"

When will this bee buzzing around humming this mournful song , netted out of my archives[ teenage years] be banished for ever?

Solitude.

Isn't drinking in the beauty of wispy butterflies dancing daintily without a whisper of sound , in the cool and quiet groves away from distracting, thundering sounds , the only way to meditate and connect to one's inner self?

Today being Bhogi I visited the temple early. As I sat to chant and pray , the Thavil and Nadaswaram started to play.They require no mike. And I was seated quite near to them.

The stereophonic sound that issued forth did not jar on my nerves. Nor did it deflect me from my meditation. In fact it took me even a plane higher!The crashing yet rhythmic , loud yet melodious music did a wonderful thing. It chased away all the smallness eclipsing my being and brought me a step nearer to the truth I was endeavoring to seek.

Our ancient customs are not without reason or rhyme.

Window shopping.

I enjoy window shopping ,once in a while.The chiffon's embroidered in shining sequences,the bewitching Benares brocades,the elegant Mysore crepe with their silver borders and the dazzling and dignified Kancheepurams flecked and bordered in golden zari. It is a wonderful past time,guaranteed, to drive away my blues.

Luscious red tomato's, cheery orange carrots, crunchy peas shining through their pods, bubbly bottle green capsicums, tender green spinach's , deep purple brinjals,wine red apples, robustta's,robust in their peels, mounds of golden pulses and dazzling heaps of crystals of sugar are forcing me to stop and stare at the shop's windows, in my daily rounds.

Alas , all these tantalising hues that are so near ,and at once as faraway as a galactic neighbour, pushes me deeper into my winter blues.

Shrimp.

When I rummage eagerly through articles hoping to pull myself out of my dumps, I am stumped!
Very many of them are Oh ,so unabashedly similar and crummier than my own wimp!

Maybe I am only a blip ,but the following observation of a sage of days gone by ,brings me a lump.

Not to be original and to copy others is like filching some one else's shrimp.

Caste.

Does it exist or not?This question troubles the highly educated and intellectuals .Whilst one set crows that it is very much part and parcel of this ancient civilisation another set painstakingly scans all ancient scriptures to prove that caste had no real sanction in our ancient society.

I was relieved that I was born a Brahmin since I was under the impression that it was the top most caste ---the creme -la -da- creme.And that every body else were beneath me .

When I studied in schools and colleges in various states and finally settled down here , I realised that I was sadly or rather happily mistaken at the superiority of my caste. Because each and every one I moved with, were all equally proud of their respective castes!I was no exception and in their eyes. I was no big deal. To each of them their own caste was exceptional and unique!

Is caste evil?Does it divide society in tight segments wary of each other?It does but I wont call it evil.

I t is more or less like a social security buffer. The richer in a caste would be more prone to alleviate the miseries of the poor in their own castes.Something like the huge sprawling banyan tree called joint family that existed decades ago which ensured the basic amenities to all its members.This is from a purely social perspective.

Why bother so much about caste schisms? When India is under from foreign invaders don't we all rally as one to fight and drive them away?Caste then flies away from the window.

The fact is ,caste exists whether one likes it or not.It is nothing to be ashamed off nor to be proud off.To fight it is an exercise in futility. A waste of energy.Its psychological hold on Indians will not be whittled down so easily . If at all it does , it is surely going to take a lot of time to do so,definetly not in my lifetime . Of course I don't mind being proved, wrong .

A pedestrian's blessings.

The speeding cars , motorbikes, vans and buses no longer daunt me. My BP no longer rises nor does the clammy hands of fear grip me.

All those speeding vehicles that made me stand on the road end, for an end ,have lost their verve and this has done a lot to my nerve!

The dented roads and some organ of the Corporation ,that has dug up the road , I bless thee!I can cross the road casually and saunter on leisurely.

I really mean this.By casting eyes, don't spoil this blessing in disguise for me.

Rowdy.

I always conjured up a vision of a rowdy as one who was tall , hefty, rude and fierce.But the one I was pointed at as Rowdy of the locality clearly didn't fit the bill.

He is thin , short, narrow shouldered and very polite! He drops his children at their 'convent' school daily by his scooter. Takes active part in the affairs of the temple nearby , is very busy during election times and oversees all Annadhanam ---to the locals on festive occasions.

He even felt ashamed when I and several others peeped out of our windows , disturbed by the altercation between him and his comrades in high decibel in the road below, over a betting on a, cricket match [ Indo-pak], gone awry .He dispersed the crowd and sheepishly slunk away.

In pre- DTH times , he used to collect the dues for cable connection. He didn't raise even an iota of fear in me. His manner and demeanor most humble and polite. I wouldn't say that about his brother though, the kingpin. Also small statured .His eyes , burning in their sockets , quite terrifying to meet, is a dead give away.

One day the hero of this piece chased another [ rowdy] , in our flats compound with a knife and inflicted some injuries.Several months later he was walking around looking even more frail. On enquiry about his health,he candidly admitted that he had just been released, after doing 'time' and that the food served in the cooler upset his delicate constitution!

Apart from that knifing incident I have no clue to the nefarious activities that would qualify him to the currently exalted title of 'rowdy' in the city tenements

I last spotted him on the street as pious looking as any other Ayyappa devotee .Wearing black dhothi, dark blue shirt, a muffler wound around his neck, chandan and kumkum thilak on his forehead , and walking barefooted.

New year.

"A good year to you" my two acquaintances, middle aged women clad in bottle green Mysore crepe and deep purple Kancheepuram silk Saree's respectively greeted me, on my way to the temple on New year's day.

We exchanged pleasantries and parted ways. A few paces ahead , 2 voices chirped in chorus ' Happy New year"--in English!The source , 2 middle aged women in faded polyester Saree's , seated on the road margins, on the space they had bagged for themselves.They stuck out their hands , most of the fingers were eaten away by disease [cured], expecting some contribution from me for their upkeep.

Unlike my acquaintances who were happy but displayed the tensions , in anticipation of the multitudes of tasks that lay ahead of the day , like running their household, cooking, tackling the maid, paying social calls,and chatting or talking to their children settled abroad, these two women on the road side who have no establishments to run were not only happy but radiant and jubilant , at the prospect of rich pickings that lay ahead on a day when people throng the temples in thousands.

It made me stop short on my tracks wondering at the anomalies of life.

Loot.

Loot sake tho lootle, ram naam ki loot,

peeche phir pachthvoge , pran jahi jab choot !


Loot if you want to loot , the name of Ram,

Or else you will realise,later that it is too late to make amends ,at that moment when your life escapes !


Now why should I feel that Kabhir the mystic poet and saint of 16 th century India has bridged the yawning chasm of years between us to wag his fingers in warning?

Nuts.

This is absolutely crazy.I'd hate to start this new year in such a discordant note. Actually I wanted to inaugurate the year by writing a spiritual piece.But the fact is that every thing has gone topsy turvy---ulta pulta.

I normally visited the shop selling nuts and dried fruits to purchase almonds, cashew nuts and dried grapes , only once a month.To me nuts are a luxury , being pricey and used sparingly ,only to garnish sweet dishes like payasam[kheer] and chakarai [ sweet] pongal.

I had turned a deaf ear to the mass chantings about the rise in the price of onions,that has been going on non stop for a month or so . I had thought that the price rise was a passing phase that would right itself and fall down in a matter of few weeks.

Today when I set out, on foot and not in a fuel guzzling suv,I don't own one, to buy greens, the poor man's vegetable ,his only source of vitamins and minerals and the rich man's diet --the roughage to shed fat , I was in for a shock.

The 2 bundles of palak that were so thinly bunched, that it could easily slip through the circle formed by thumb and index finger and yet leave a gap, was priced at Rs 25!It was selling at Rs 2 a bundle barely a few weeks ago. And a generous bunch it was.

Most of the onions on the rack were shrivelled .Others had a cloud of tiny mosquito's hovering over them. Several had sprouted long shoots!And the price of this junk that would normally be thrown away as waste was priced at 65 Rs a KG!

And the price of carrots ,the vegetable that is always available in plenty in winter and is the cheapest vegetable of these months is also running neck to neck in this maddening race.

If this is going to continue,I would be forced to haunt the nuts and dried fruits shop more often .They haven't risen to these lofty heights and strangely have become cheaper than their poor cousins---vegetables!And delicacies like Kajoo kathili and Badam kheer are now cheaper to prepare than wholesome aloo mattar and palak paneer sabzhi's,for a family of four!It goes without saying that idli sambhar the staple breakfast, has also become a sunday treat. This happened several months earlier with prices of toor, urad and other dhals and oil ,climbing slowly but steadily to unattainable heights over the past few years.

Mary Antonoite's famous advise 'Eat cakes if there is no bread' seems very apt in the current situation.

But how long can one still the cravings of the palate with badam and cashew nuts?