On Fevicol!

As part of the "Golu" celebration during Navaratri, there is always some cut-and-paste job to be done. This time, it was a picture that had to be stuck on a cardboard to serve as a backdrop for the golu idols. That's when "Fevicol" came out of the shelf. If there is one common factor...that runs...in and through life's most fun moments, it is Fevicol. Who can forget those umpteen science projects when we were in school? And a re-run of the same projects, yes, this time with our kids! Fevicol was that constant companion- kal bhi...aaj bhi...kal bhi! 

Back in the day, as kids, Fevicol began with its share of edgy moments. Apparently, before Fevicol, there was some bloke called "Araldite". Grandparents were forever calling him Araldite- "Get that Araldite. I need to fix this broken cup!" You felt like responding emphatically, "Grandpa! There is no Araldite at home. No Araldite! Only Fevicol!" Thankfully, I never saw this Araldite fellow. Had I seen him, I would have punched Araldite's nose, for trying to steal the thunder from my Fevicol! 

They say an elephant's trunk is the most versatile instrument- the trunk can pick up a needle, the trunk can uproot an entire tree. Fevicol can rival that versatility and more! You stuck postage stamps on an envelope with Fevicol. And when a  shiny, sun-mica sheet had to be stuck on the wooden wardrobe, the carpenter reached out for...well....Fevicol!

During high school, we had our share of challenges. One fine day, billboards and advertisements screamed- "Fevicol is now Movicol". Araldite was bad enough. And now Movicol. Who is this Movicol? Why is he here? What happened to my Fevicol? Had we known Jantar Mantar back then, we would have surely protested. Without Fevicol, life lost all cheer. Like Guru Dutt, for an entire year, we wallowed in sadness- "Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye...to kya hai!"

And then, the miracle happened. Apparently, no one accepted Movicol in the market. We knew it! Fevicol made a grand re-entry! Life was rosy once more! Guru Dutt,  his black shawl, his sad song....everything vanished.  With Fevicol, life was "Eena meena deega", lively and effervescent...once more! 

Part of Fevicol's allure lay in its unique fragrance. Like Amrutanjan, you knew it was a Fevicol home, the moment you entered it. It was unmistakable. When the tooth filling came off from the cavity and you rushed to the dentist, you felt like asking him, "Did you use that Movicol chap by any chance, doc? Can you use Fevicol...at least this time doc?" When friends moved closely, you made a sly remark, "Look at them- stuck like Fevicol!"

In some ways, Fevicol was unforgiving. When you applied Fevicol to the back of a paper and had to stick it to a piece of cardboard, you had only one chance. Even life gives a second chance, but not Fevicol. There was no scope for alteration- having stuck the paper horizontally, you couldn't change your mind, and stick the paper back vertically. You felt as helpless as Vibhishana. In a moment of indiscretion, the idol of Ranganatha was kept on the ground at Srirangam.  The idol stayed stuck to the terra-ferma for good. Vibhishana could never carry the idol back to Lanka. I bet....it must have been Fevicol! 

Fevicol was too finicky. Sometimes, the paper smeared with Fevicol...stuck to itself, before you could place it on the cardboard! That's it! It was now completely ruined. Too much Fevicol made the paper look wrinkled and unsightly on the cardboard. Too little Fevicol made the ends of the paper curl up like dog-ears, from the sides of the cardboard! Couldn't Fevicol be a little flexible, a little...may be?

This golu, the cardboard picture backdrop was finally ready. My fingers tips were shiny, white and wrinkled, yes, with solidified Fevicol.  I spent the next half-hour pealing the Fevicol off, strand by strand. That's when all the above lines came to mind. 

There was just one song on my lips- from the Bollywood film Dabangg-2- "Chipka le saiyaan Fevicol se"!!!

What if you cannot dance?

An all-important component of a modern, Gen-Z Indian wedding is "sangeet".  It does not matter if it is a North Indian or a South Indian wedding. Sangeet is non-negotiable. For the unversed, sangeet is not your "kalyaana kutchery" of yesteryears where Semmangudi mama regaled the wedding audience with a nuanced rendition of Bhairavi raagam. No! Sangeet now...is more about dance than music. A DJ plays assorted film music, that blares over the speaker at an intolerable decibel level. Everyone joins the dance-floor. It is a loose, free-for-all, dance-as-you-please format. The bride, the groom, the Gen-Z attendees, the young, the old, the kids, the Gen-Jurassic- almost everyone lets his or her hair loose and dances as though there is no tomorrow.

The problem is for the outlier- what if you cannot dance? The outlier sticks out like a sore thumb, unable to join the revelry. He stands squirming in a corner, arms tightly folded across his chest, nervously gritting his teeth and watching the unfolding spectacle. He cannot quit and go home for that will be rude and discourteous. He cannot join this dance equivalent of "kumbal-oda-govinda" for obvious reasons- he cannot dance. Silently, he prays that he should be spared from this agony- that these sangeet hours should melt away in a second. Tough luck! "Appadi podu podu podu" song is over....only to be replaced with "lungi dance...lungi dance"! The audience loves it- they dance as though possessed by some spirit at a Bhuta-Kola. Even the Mahabharata may end after 100,000 verses but not sangeet. 

Matters get worse. The outlier is not allowed to stand in a corner anymore. "What do you mean you cannot dance? Just dance man! Just give it a shake man! Groove...this way!" Sometimes, he is bodily dragged, at times lifted, right into the dance ring! Like a mortally scared goat that digs its heels at the prospect of imminent doom, he recoils and resists. If the outlier had had his way, he would have added his name to the hashtag Me-Too movement for gross, physical violation! The outlier now finds himself right in the middle of the dance ring. Around him, the adrenalin is flowing in torrents- hands, legs, hips, heads all gyrating. What do you do now? "Abhimanyu....chakra-vyuuh mein phas gaya hai tu" that's the only song that comes to his mind! How does he get out of this? Spare a thought for the outlier- the only coordinated activity with hands and legs that he has ever been a part of, is the PT left-right-left "march-past", way back in high-school. 

The exit strategy is simple. Never stand in a corner doing nothing. That will brand you as boring, uptight and a party-pooper. You need to "look" interested. That's enough! Use your mobile-phone and pose as though you are recording the dance proceedings. You move from one vantage point to the other, displaying your mobile prominently. You needn't even switch the video on. After all, how many Gigs of data can your measly cell-phone store? Just move around, with a smile on your lips, and a thumbs-up sign to whoever makes eye-contact with you! That's it! The technique works like a charm. It has bailed me out...100% of the times. 

This dancing requirement has gone out of hand. There is no escape. Like CPR, it has become an essential life-skill. The school curriculum needs revision. We need a new subject- not that Bharatanatyam "thai ya thai" drill silly, it should be Bollywood-dance-101, starting from "Kajra re" and going all the way, till you can dance to "Naatu Naatu" with elan!

They say, learning has no age. We hear about "bathroom singers"- those who are afraid to face the public but confidently howl, completely out of tune in the confines of the bathroom. We will soon have a new breed called "bathroom dancers"! Hear that loud music and the stomping of feet behind that closed bathroom door, as though the floor and 4 walls are about to collapse? That's me..."Left leg aage aage..right leg peeche peeche....! Hrithik Roshan, Allu Arjun, NTR Jr...move out the way! I am coming!

The Great Bannerghatta Road

For over 20 years now, I have been going up and down Bannerghatta Road. It has become so much a part of me, that it is not just another road. It is my connect with civilization. History books talk about Chandragupta Maurya- how he built the Grand Trunk Road connecting Takshashila (modern day Pakistan) to Pataliputra (modern Patna, Bihar). Bannerghatta Road may not have such high aspirations. However, in its own humble way, it runs North-South, straight as an arrow, cutting through vast swaths of the city of Bengaluru! 

They say- one should never probe into "rishi-mulam" and "nadi-mulam". "Road-mulam" should be added to this list. Learn to trim your curiosity when it comes to the origins of a rishi, a river or even a road! The Ganga flows through sub-terranean caverns and makes its first visible entry at "Gomukh". It is hard to imagine that this little mountain stream at Gomukh cave, the size of an oversized cow's mouth, will grow to be the mighty river that we associate it with. 

So too, with Bannerghatta Road. Close to the zoo, it is but a tiny, nondescript, piddly lane. But don't you take it lightly, as though it is just bland "idli"! It is not! Slowly, but surely, as it covers more ground, the road swells in girth, and by the time it hits Jayadeva Circle, it has grown to those monstrous proportions that we know this great and mighty road to be! Like the roar of the Ganga at Rudraprayag, the cacophony of traffic has risen to its peak. It is here that you feel like pumping your fists in the air, the forehead veins throbbing with emotion, with full throated shouts of "Har Har Bannerghattey! Har! Har!"

The Ganga has numerous names- Bhaageerathi and Jaanhavi to name a couple. So too, with this road. Some call it affectionately "banneru"-ghatta. For others, especially when they run out of space, while filling those forms, it is as simple as "BG Road". The similarity with Ganga doesn't end there. If Prayag's Triveni sangam is Ganga's crowning glory, for Bannerghatta, it is its triveni sangam towards BTM. (For the unversed, BTM stands for Byrasandra, Tavarekere and Madiwala, some of Bengaluru's sprawling townships). 

Ganga is a perennial river. You guessed it, Bannerghatta is a perennial road. There is no time, when it is traffic free. Even at 2am, it maintains a steady flow. And when it comes to peak hour, it is verily a wild river! The glacial bunds are broken, the traffic is let loose; it flows in torrents, covering the road and more, till even the footpaths are taken over by the two-wheelers! Caught in one of those traffic deadlocks at a junction, with intertwined criss-cross traffic, it's exactly like getting sucked into Ganga's treacherous whirlpools. Extricating yourself from the crocodile-like traffic grasp requires divine help, the kind...the elephant Gajendra got! For Ola, Uber and other taxi drivers, even mention of the name- "Bannerghatta" is like simha-swapna- they quake with fear! "Bannerghatta? I will not come come! Baralla Saar! You get down saar! Bannerghatta baralla saar!" 

It is said- blessings from the river Ganga, is gained in a 3-fold way- by mere sight (eekshanam), by using words of praise (stotram) and by dipping oneself in the water (snaanam). Bannerghatta blesses in much the same way- you see the traffic, you talk about the traffic, and finally, you immerse yourself in the traffic!

Many an attempt is made to tame a ferocious river by constructing dams and canals.  But, what about this road? Presently,  the metro pillars are all up, the stations are ready, even the trial runs have completed many sorties. "The metro is about to start"- we've been hearing for months now. Can an unruly river be tamed...ever? We know...a river always has the last laugh. Can this mighty road be tamed? Time will tell!