The "moonlighting" controversy

Over the last few weeks, news channels are abuzz with the “moonlighting” controversy. Simply put, moonlighting is a consequence of the “work from home” culture in IT circles. Sitting at home, the techie signs up as an employee in multiple companies. It is as if, he has a dozen faces; to each company he presents one, as his only face! It raises ethical questions aplenty, but for now, our concern is different.

IT has a bad habit of stealing everyday words and giving it a new spin. In the process, it leaves the rest of us totally confused. “I cannot find the mouse. It was just here!” A part of us immediately jumps to catch the elusive rodent, only to realize the import was different. Biscuits and cookies are indelibly connected to childhood. Suddenly, there is an unwanted twist. The internet browser pops the question, “Enable automatic cookies?” We cannot resist but say yes! Another example is the abuse of the word “viral”. Every day, social media screams that something or the other has gone “viral”. It is like the boy who cried "wolf". Our repeated usage of the word gave life to the real virus, and we brought the pandemic upon ourselves!

Poets and lyrists were robbed of their livelihood when the term “cloud” was hijacked by IT. When Wordsworth wrote, “I wandered lonely as a cloud”, he had a particular imagery to transfer to the audience. But IT interfered and gave “cloud” a different connotation. IT has messed up the human mind with its technical concepts of “cloud” to the extent that the original “cloud” has lost relevance!

And now, IT has taken over “moonlighting” and given the word a sinister color. All the romantic ideas associated with the moon- from Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata to moonlit dinners have been struck down. Why doesn’t the IT world coin its own words instead of plagiarizing ours? Does moonlighting come from the notion that the techie does one job by sunlight, and another job by moonlight? Or like the proverbial “dark side of the moon”, does it refer to a techie who has an unknown, darker side?

The other day, one of the cooking utensils was washed badly. I confronted the housemaid. “You are moonlighting by working in multiple homes! No wonder you don’t pay attention to detail!” She shot back, “Sir! You can keep your moon and your moonlighting! For the peanuts that you pay, I must work in multiple homes to make ends meet! If that is moonlighting, from tomorrow, you can wash the vessels on your own!” I had to offer the olive branch and wave the flag of truce!

IT concepts obviously do not work elsewhere!

Being a cheetah in India !

(For the reader who is unfamiliar with the context, or is reading this article at a point in time when the context is lost, here is a little introduction. Indian cheetahs were declared extinct in 1952. Since then, there are no cheetahs in the wild in India. As we speak, 8 cheetahs were imported from Namibia and released in a forest in Madhya Pradesh. This event has become prime-time news. We know of no previous occasion when an animal got so much publicity!)

It is not easy to be a cheetah in India. You are literally on a catwalk with a billion eyes watching you! For the cheetahs who lived nondescript lives in Namibia, it is instant stardom! It must be unnerving when the expectations run so sky-high!

When you go to a foreign country, you are initially plagued with jet-lag issues. Spare a thought for these cheetahs. Their body clock is tuned to a different longitude. By the time they wake up, all groggy, it is already noon in India. The animals they feed on, have long left the waterhole, and are taking an afternoon snooze! In addition to time-related issues, the cheetahs are from the Southern hemisphere. When it is winter there, it is summer in India. Their circadian rhythms must be so messed up.

And then comes the added pressure to fit into their adopted homeland. When you go to the West, you do everything- even change your name to conform to the new place. “Neelakanthan” in India becomes “Neil”. Cheetahs must be going through a similar identity crisis. We are told the Cheetahs are named “Alton” and “Freddy”. Those names are not going to work here. They will have to adopt a poly-syllabic name of Indian origin!

Homesickness is the first thing that hits you when you go abroad. You long for the sights and sounds that are familiar. You have half a mind to reverse your decision and head back home. We hear stories of cows that walk several miles to return to their original cowshed even after they are sold to a new owner. Cheetahs must be going through that phase. They would have already made rough calculations- they are 8000 km away from home. A hop, skip and jump over the Khyber Pass, onto the Middle East and then to Egypt, followed by a run down the African continent! Who knows? The Cheetah is after all the fastest land animal!

For a non-Indian, Indian food is too spicy. Cheetahs may feed on deer, but the deer in turn has fed on homegrown, masala-laden aaloo-tikki! It takes time to adjust to the new cuisine.

The cheetahs have hogged the headlines so much that Indian animals are naturally disgruntled! The cheetah’s cousin- the leopard and Indian tiger sulk in a corner. As we say in Hindi, “ghar ki murgi daal baraabar”, we completely ignore the riches at home! Desi animals believe that the obsession with the cheetah is because of its skin-tone and India's post-colonial hangover! African elephants languishing in Indian zoos are equally miffed. They are still on visitor’s visa, whereas the cheetah got Indian citizenship so quickly!

Life is surely unfair!

(The article is over since we have reached 450 words. Like some films that are released with alternate endings, I had a different ending in mind initially. From the viewpoint of the cheetah, it does not get more scary. Imagine being uprooted from home and abandoned in a forest. Where do you go? Whom did you leave behind at home? Where will you search for them? As Mahakavi Bhaarati says in his poem, "Dhikku theriyaadha kaattil, unnai thedi thedi ilaithene".....In this trackless forest..."dhikku-dishai theriyaamal" as we say, I searched for You....hither and thither...and am now....totally worn out. The cheetah's feelings must be similar.)

"Ghissu" - the compulsive memorizer!

Back then, when you said someone was “studious”, he matched a particular profile.  He was a veritable bookworm with the capacity to memorize entire textbooks. For hours, he paced the terrace from end to end like a tiger in a cage, reading his lessons aloud. Give him any subject- English, History or Biology, he “mugged-up" the book from cover to cover, inclusive of the table of contents and the appendix! “The heart has 4 chambers. The heart has 4 chambers, 2 auricles and 2 ventricles. The heart has 4 chambers”, he repeated ad nauseum. He educated the coconut trees in the neighborhood and even the passerby, who filled in for any lull in the recitation with apt answers- “2 auricles and 2 ventricles”!

When it came to Mathematics, he knew both the questions and the answers “by-heart”.  “Rama lent 4 mangoes, Rama lent 4 mangoes to Krishna. Rama lent…” he babbled on and on. In the exam, he was aware of the answer even before he started solving the problem! If he got a different answer, he could immediately back-track and correct the mistake! So thorough was his preparation. In North India, this peculiar species was termed a “ghissu”, one who literally scrubbed textbooks and made the contents his own!

The ghissu cracked all exams. After all, the whole book was in his head. If at all he had a problem, it was a unique one- to answer a question on the Battle of Panipat, he had to begin the recitation from Mohenjo Daro. He required that flow to get to the point!

Relatives and visitors kept a safe distance from the ghissu’s home. The home resembled a railway station with a vendor shouting himself hoarse. Normal conversation was simply impossible and got tangled with auricles and ventricles all the time.

To make matters worse, the ghissu’s sibling was often another ghissu! They had to be caged in separate rooms. Crosstalk was unavoidable. While one studied Biology, the other was shouting herself hoarse on the Zilla Parishad. Each one raised the decibel level to outshout the other. The result was total commotion. Occasionally, the ghissu-siblings emerged from the quarantine to the common living room area. Like canines with exclusive territorial claims, they snarled angrily, each blaming the other for being too noisy.

Sadly, the ghissu is becoming an extinct species. Of late, there is negative propaganda by non-ghissus, heckling the ghissu of being just a “parrot” who “crammed” lessons. Today, the education mantra has changed. You must “understand” the basics and sharpen your “problem solving skills”. You must work “smart” and avoid all “donkey work”. The accusation is unfair- both to the ghissu and to the donkey!

It is all in the jeans!

We do not know when the “jeans fashion-bug” bit the world. For the cowboys of the Mid-West, the weather and their job made “denim” a natural choice. Since then, denim jeans have taken over the world. Jeans is the de-facto fashion statement!

Fashion has no rationale. Imagine Chennai in summer. The midday sun melts even the tar on the road. Scan around and you spot the youth parading in leg-hugging jeans. It takes another level of self-mortification to strut around in a material, with the coarseness of a gunnysack, in the heat of Chennai!

My grandmother had fixed ideas about jeans. “This evening, we will have guests at home. Be sure to discard this gunnysack and wear something proper!”

The old world had old ideas. A corporate professional had to be “tip-top” in dressing. It meant going to the office in a full-shirt and formal pant. If you were higher on the corporate ladder, you wore a suit and tie. The old order giveth way to the new. Now, the corporate uniform is jeans- from the CEO to the foot soldier. The older generation is baffled. “Are you going to office like this? Don’t you have a dress-code?” “This is the dress code Appa!” you hit back.  

Jeans and the color blue go hand-in-hand or leg-in-leg may be! A teenager’s wardrobe is filled with jeans by the dozen. Only the degree of blueness differs- from the light to the deep blue. The shades are so close you would think, the same pants are worn each day! The converse is equally true. You can wear the same jeans each day, and pretend you have a dozen in the same color.

Jeans have mutated over time. Starting from bell-bottomed and baggy-jeans, they moved to the figure-hugging ones.  You had “faded” and “stoned-washed” jeans. “Ripped-jeans” were made with a peculiar recipe- the jeans were shot with a pistol to drive holes through them! After all, fashion defies logic. It banks on that undefinable ideal- what is construed as “cool”!

Wearing a corset in the Victorian days seems like a punishment. What about skin-tight jeans? You hobble around with the jeans at the ankle, huffing and puffing, just to pull them over each leg! And once in, it takes greater effort to step out of them- you must literally scissor them off the body!

Jeans have made life easy. If they are smelly and unwashed, no problem! If they are crumpled, even better. Jeans have bridged the gap between the haves and the have-nots. The homeless and the Bollywood diva wear equally torn clothes!

For one, it is born out of necessity. For the other, it is a head-turning style statement!

 

Remembering TVS, the master musician

There are musicians who enthrall the public, and then, there are musicians who cater to the connoisseurs. TV Sankaranarayanan straddled both worlds with effortless ease. TVS as he was popularly known, passed into the ages on September 2, 2022. Carnatic music lost its diamond pendant.

TVS had the gift to transport the audience to another world. His amiable personality, so evident on stage, blended with his “jana-ranjaka”, enjoyable style of singing. The result was sheer magic. For 3 hours, rasikas hung to his lips, forgetting themselves, sporting in a world that TVS created.

He mastered a template that formed the bulwark of his concerts. The selection of keertanas was impeccable. There was never a lull in the concert. He strung brisk pieces with the more elaborate compositions in a manner that made each concert engaging.

Ragam-Thanam-Pallavi (RTP) forms the main piece of a Carnatic concert. Traditionally, it is rendered in ragas considered suitable for elaboration like Thodi, Kalyani and Kambhoji. TVS made a departure from the norm. He sang RTPs in “light” ragas like Kapi, Desh and Brindavana Saranga. Sometimes, he forayed into obscure ragas like Surya and Andolika. The selection did not matter. Each piece shone with the indelible “TVS stamp”.

Teamwork is an essential component of Carnatic music. The vocalist must gel with the violinist, the mridangam and ghatam player. TVS brought out the best from his accompanists. When he teamed up with the legendary violinist MS Gopalakrishnan, they raised the concert to a new level. We loved the way TVS encouraged his accompanists, by openly expressing his admiration. When it was the violinist's turn to play, TVS forgot himself, and involuntarily joined the violinist and sang the phrases that the violin played!

He ended his concerts with “tukdas” that rasikas relished. When he sang “Eppo Varuvaaro” “When will He come?” theatrically, it brought tears to our eyes. Thereafter, he changed the mood with the lilting “English note” composition that listeners looked forward to. His trademark last piece- “Srinivasa” sung in dramatic style, took us to the portals of Tirupati.

TVS followed the “bani” of his illustrious uncle, Madurai Mani Iyer. Singing swara patterns was his forte. He mesmerized audiences with cascading swaras, that flowed effortlessly like a gushing waterfall. His unbridled enthusiasm rubbed off on us, and after the concert, we were fully charged and refreshed.

TVS passed away too early. We wonder if he was human or a “Gandharva” in human guise. Perhaps, a Gandharva who captivated us for a few decades and moved on to entertain other worlds. His music will stay with us. We will miss the unassuming man and his beaming smile. When will we have another TVS? “Eppo Varuvaaro?”