Sing...as though...no one is listening!

This is a true story. Our recent trip to Udupi was coming to a close. On the way back to Bangalore, we stopped at Chikkamagaluru, at a prominent hotel.

The evening, we checked in, I knew there was something dicey with the bathroom lock. I struggled. Somehow, it unlocked, this time around. “You just have to press the button at the top. It opens easily!” my wife explained. The topic was closed for the day.

The next morning, I had to take a shower. My wife was all ready and stepped out of the hotel room. “I will join you in 10 minutes!” I told her. Who carries a cellphone to the bathroom, right? The last thing you want is some silly accident where the cellphone slips from hand and falls into the toilet. I left the cellphone outside.

Just above the bathroom shower, a catchy line caught my attention. It said- “Sing as though no one is listening!” You know how hotels and resorts advertise these days. How to be in nature’s lap, and allow your body, mind and soul to rejuvenate.  “Sing it seems!” I chuckled to myself and took a shower. That done, with the hair dripping with water, wrapped in a towel, I was about to step out of the bathroom.

I pressed the lock button. It did not open. I pressed it once, twice, thrice. It stayed stubborn. I twirled it, I punched it, and finally yanked it with brute strength. It was a bad choice. The lock got disturbed from the base and was now rotating in full, like that scary head in “Exorcist”. I banged the door a few times. No response.

Where did my wife go? How long is she going to take- 10 minutes, 20 minutes…before she realizes something is amiss? There was anger, there was helplessness, there was fear, there was a lot more.

“Sing as though no one is listening” was not an amusing tagline anymore. How do you bide your time? Maybe, bad singing will attract attention- either human or divine, to bail me out.

The song had to be finalized. What should I sing? “Jana gana”?  Obviously, you cannot sing the anthem in the bathroom. “Happy birthday to you!” flashed as the second choice. I castigated my mind for enumerating such ridiculous choices. How about some Hindi film song? I was reminded of Kamal Haasan in Ek-duuje-ke-liye, locked inside a lift and singing. “Wah! Wah! Mere jeevan saathi…pyaar kiye jaa! Jawaani diwaani...”- seemed a topical song. The song was more screaming…and less music. Just my type. But my mind protested, “At this age, will you sing this song?” 

Other choices had to be explored. “How about that racy song by Usha Uthup from yesteryears- Hari Om Hari…Hari Om Hari…ooo…ooo?”  The song had no elaborate lyrics, just this refrain, sung in different octaves. Who knows? Like the Gajendra moksha tale, Hari's name could invite divine intervention too!  I could not narrow down. “Why don’t you try classical?” my mind questioned. “Classical? You mean…Carnatic music? That kind?” I mentally scanned through what could be sung. Maybe, that popular varnam, “Ninnu-kori” in Mohana raaga? That seemed a reasonable choice. I closed my eyes, cleared my throat and in all seriousness, fixed the pitch- “sa….pa…..sa”!

My rumination was cut short. There was a knock on the bathroom door. It was my wife. “What are you doing? What’s taking you so much time?”

The mind is a funny fellow. He wanted to sing and felt a mild irritation, now that his singing was interrupted. “Help! Help! Let me out! I got locked!” I blabbered. Thankfully, the bathroom door could be unlocked from outside.

It was a harrowing experience. What if someone traveled single and got locked? What if the hotel had no housekeeping staff to clean the room each day? Could someone stay in the bathroom for days on end, with no hope in hell of getting out?

“Sing as though no one is listening” made perfect sense. There is no one listening. You can keep singing and singing and singing…till the cows come home!

 

 

Speed breakers!

During our recent road-trip to Udupi, I was suddenly jolted out of sleep. “Have we hit the ghat-section already? We are going uphill, aren’t we?” I blabbered incoherently, still drowsy. “No! Not yet! That was just a speed breaker!” our driver, Murthy saar replied.

On some of these highways, it does feel there is less road and lot more breakers. It’s like a game of snake-and-ladders. In a couple of squares, there’s always one enormous snake, waiting to gobble you! There is no escape.

There are small waves and big waves in the ocean. And then, there are tsunamis. So too, in the speed breaker world- there are small breakers, big ones and some so monstrous, that the under-belly of the car registers the breaker-signature, each time it rides over it.

We are told, some foreign-brand cars do not sell in India because “their suspension is too low”. They are just not equipped to negotiate our breakers. It’s like asking that caterpillar-like dog, the Dachshund, to do a pole vault! It is surely a tall order!

Riding over speed-breakers is the ultimate test for a driver. It requires tact and anticipation. If the car is too fast, it can break the back or neck of many an unwary passenger. In addition, a car at speed, can tee-off the speed-breaker, like a plane at take-off. It will be too scary.  

To compensate for the excess speed, you slow down the car to the minimum. And now, the result is the opposite. After climbing the incline of the bump, the car is too slow and stalls midway through the ascent. It slides right back from the bump and comes to a halt. It’s like that reluctant racehorse that finds the obstacle too steep, changes its mind, and stubbornly, refuses to go any further!

In some cases, in addition to the speed-breaker, “obstruction boards” are laid out like a turn-style; with fences arranged in an “S-shaped pattern”. And now, in addition to the vertical jostling, the car is rattled side-ways too. It is a harrowing experience.

A speed breaker with no visible markers, (which is often the case), can be lethal, especially at night.  The slope merges with the rest of the road. Like that mountain “Mainaaka parvata”, that suddenly rose up from the ocean floor and stopped a flying Hanuman midway through his tracks, this speed-breaker catches you totally unawares.

The passengers hit the car-ceiling and are quick to blame the driver, “Can’t you slow down the car to negotiate the bump? Is that too much to ask?” Poor driver! What can he say?

The worst speed-breaker is the “multiple-camel-ride”. Here, multiple speed-breakers are laid out back-to-back. You go over one-hump, descend, go over the second hump, descend, and so on. This pattern repeats as many as five times over. By now, if you have not swallowed a tablet for headache and motion-sickness, you will surely need one.

In India, we look for escape routes all the time. In some cases, the speed-breaker has not been laid out in full- a little carelessness in the execution, you can say.  There’s a tiny patch towards the edge of the road, where the speed-breaker does not extend. This loophole is sufficient. The cars approach the breaker at top-speed and suddenly veer to the open patch, adding chaos, commotion and surely…a lot more danger too.

A close cousin to our speed-breaker is the “wake up zone” on the US highways, designed to keep the car passengers awake. These are not bumps. Rather, an opposite technique is used. The road is scratched, leaving fissures on the surface, like a ploughed field. The car registers a vibration that shakes you up, like sitting atop a drilling machine.

“Do we need such wake-up zones?” I asked. Murthy saar was very clear, “We do not need “wake-up zones” in India at all. We are all wide-awake…all the time…thanks to our roads!”

 

 

The Belur Chennakeshava temple- magic in stone!

There are temples and temples in South India- each one more awe-inspiring than the other! In that list, the Chennakeshava Temple at Belur will stand tall...rubbing shoulders with the very best! This morning, we visited the temple.

The guide at the temple, Mr Nagaraju,  began his exposition with the phrase- "You have come to Kalaa-saagara". Art here, is like the ocean- It is vast, it is extensive,  it has no boundary. Also, like the ocean, it is deep and simply unfathomable!

I am writing from memory, based on the guide's account to us.

The temple at a glance!

The temple was built in the year 1117 (an easy date to remember)! It was built by the Hoysala kings. Pointing to a sculpture of a man with a sword, battling a lion, the guide explained, "The boy's name was "sala". "Hoy" was a call to kill the lion. Thus, came the name Hoysala and an entire dynasty, the Hoysala kings, who ruled for 400 years.

Hoy-sala!

This is the Chenna-Keshava temple, about an hour from Chikmagalur in Karnataka. "Chenna" means beautiful. Keshava is of course, Lord Vishnu. Chennakeshava is Lord Vishnu in the form of a lady- Mohini. Vishnu took this form to vanquish "Bhasmaasura". The asura was tricked into touching his own head, and thereby met his destruction, by Mohini! 

This is a functional temple (unlike Halebeedu, which is 14 km away). The deity is always dressed as a lady. Lord Vishnu is mohini, the one who captivates and mesmerizes everyone. Lord Vishnu took this Mohini form at Belur, and hence the significance of this particular form here.

It took 103 years to build the temple- spread over 3 generations of kings. The pioneer was King Vishnuvardhana. His earlier name was "Bitti-deva". He was an adherent of the Jaina religion. He became a Vishnu bhakta inspired by Saint Ramanuja.

At the entrance to the temple, we find a frieze where King Vishnuvardhana is seated at the center, his wife Shaantala by his side, and with Saint Ramanuja in the foreground.

King Vishnuvardhana, Queen Shaantala and Saint Ramanuja

Hoysala temples are spread over this entire region. 3 prominent ones from this dynasty are- this temple at Belur,  another at Halebeedu and yet another at Somanathapura, close to Mysore. While the Belur temple is dedicated to Lord Vishnu,  the Halebeedu Temple features Lord Shiva. The Halebeedu temple came under attack from Mallik Kafur (Khilji sultanate in Delhi) around the year 1311. Hence, it is not a functional temple anymore.

No such problem with the Belur temple, the guide says. It has been a functional temple all along.

Though the Belur temple was built in 1117, during the time of the Vijayanagara empire, which was about 500 years ago, a gopuram was built for this temple. We enter the Chennakeshava temple premises through this gopuram. The guide mentions- "Look at the horns at the top of the temple tower. It's shaped like a cow- "go". Hence, the term 'gopuram'!"

Gopuram built during Vijayanagara time

The chief architect of this temple was the legendary sculptor "jakanachari" and his son "Dankanacharya". The temple is built in the shape of a star. The pedestal is star-shaped, the main-temple structure seated on top of the pedestal is also star-shaped. The stone used for this temple is "soapstone"- that allows for intricate carving. The principal deity of the Hoysalas was Lord Narasimha. He is seen right at the entrance to the temple.

Makara thorana with Narasimha at the temple entrance
"Makara" seen in the pic (partially, towards the end of the pic) is a mythical creature.
It has the body of a pig, legs of a lion, wings like a peacock, eyes like a monkey, ears like a cow, trunk like an elephant and mouth like a crocodile! 7 animals join to form this "makara" creature! (All this detail is from our guide!)

One of the main attractions at this temple are the dancers and apsaras, striking various poses, delineated with mesmerizing details. We have heard about some of these masterpieces- especially the darpana-sundari....where the lady admires herself glancing into a mirror. Several such pieces adorn the top of the temple; each pose...out-beating the other. These pieces are held in place using "the pivot and joint" technique, the guide explains.

As you go around the temple, the first half of the temple wall is filled with terrestrial themes like the various dance poses. But closer to the garbha-griha, the walls of the temple have themes centered on Lord Vishnu and Shiva. The term "masterpiece" loses meaning as we admire these sculptures. Sculptures of Vishnu and Shiva are scattered all over- as though an entire sack...full of gems was carelessly emptied! There's Shiva as "Gaja-samhaara-murti" with 16 hands. There's Ravana with 10 heads lifting Mount Kailas, and atop the mountain, Shiva and Parvati are seated. We see Arjuna striking the eye of the fish during Draupadi's swayamvara, Lord Brahma is seen with 4 heads and Narasimha gouging out the entrails of Hiranyakashipu! It is a riot- a veritable poetry in stone!

Shiva and his various forms!

Ravana lifting Kailash

Lord Brahma

Lord Narasimha

The lower portion of the outer wall has 3 layers- the first layer is filled with a ribbon of elephants in various postures signifying "strength". Above that is a row of lions, symbolizing "courage" and over that, a row of horses signifying "speed". Thus, "strength", "courage" and "speed", together formed the motto of the Hoysala kings!

Strength, Courage, Speed!

The guide fills in with all kinds of details- how women wore patterned dresses back then, even bermuda shorts as well as sported various types of hair-do- "sadhana cut", "bob cut", "pony tail" and "hair in a curl"  

Women also hunted, as seen in one sculpture.  They had attendants and pet dogs back then too!

Hunting woman!

Once inside the temple, the focus shifts. The main idol is 9 feet tall and imposing. The dwara-paalakas- Jaya and Vijaya arrest your attention. There are pillars all over- each pillar is distinct and different from the other. There are circular pillars, lotus-petalled pillars and even a pillar where the "highlights of the entire temple are summarized in miniature!"

Pillar with temple summary in miniature

The ceiling is breathtaking. It is shaped like a wheel. At the center hangs a single-stone (the hub of a wheel) with Lord Narasimha at the hub-base. The hub itself is shaped like a linga and hence it is Lord Shiva. And Brahma too, is seen on the side. Below this wheel (which is on the ceiling) is the dance floor. The dance floor is just outside the main idol. It is here that Queen Shaantala danced. She was an exponent in Bharatanaatyam, the guide mentions. A sculpture dedicated to this queen is also seen on one of the pillars beside the dance floor.

The ceiling

Queen Shaantala

Outside the main star-shaped temple, there are other attractions. There's a stone-obelisk standing on 3 legs (the guide says), which was installed 500 years ago, during the Vijayanagara period. There's an adjoining structure that looks similar to the main one. The guide says that's the "trial temple" before the main one was constructed. At the back of the main temple, Sri-devi and Bhu-Devi have separate structures. 

By this time, we have run out of adjectives. It seems pointless to express admiration anymore through "oo" and "ah" and "wow"! 

As we take leave of the guide, he ends just the way he started- this is "kalaa-saagara". 

Indeed! There is no other way of describing this place.

One of the many forms of Vishnu on the temple wall

Think like a tiger!

About a week ago, a friend of mine forwarded a video footage that was going viral. At the Bannerghatta safari park, a leopard is seen circling a tourist vehicle.  At one point, the leopard stands on its hind legs, raises its entire body and rests its forelimbs on the window. Next, it tries to insert its face into the bus. Just one tiny hop, and the leopard would have been right inside. The bus starts at this point. The leopard is distracted and leaves the vehicle. The video ends.

My friend expected a reaction from me. I did respond- with a big smiley emoji and the words- “See! I told you so!” There was a particular reason my friend sent this video. It goes back to an incident that happened about 12 years ago.

We were at Kabini with friends and family. We were about to go on a jungle safari. The vehicle arrived. Except for the section where the driver was seated that had covered windows, the rest of the vehicle was entirely open to the elements. No glass on the windows, no grill, nothing. It was designed to give a "full and unobstructed view."

The forest ranger announced, “We are going deep into the jungle to see some tigers!”  “What? In this vehicle? We are going into the jungle? And we are going to see…tigers? What if the tiger pounces on us? We will be sitting ducks then!” I protested, totally alarmed. The forest ranger replied, “Sir! Sir! There are no ducks. Only tigers! I have been conducting this trip for 25 years. Nothing has happened. I am there, no? Tigers will not do anything! I assure you! Tigers are the most beautiful creatures. If you leave them alone, they will leave you alone!”

“Sir, how can you answer for the tiger? Are you the tiger? For 25 years, nothing has happened. That is ok. But…but...something can happen, this one time! May be, the tiger got suddenly hungry. Who knows? It is so risky!”

The forest ranger replied, “Sir! There is risk everywhere, even when you are walking on the footpath! Anything can happen…at any time…to anyone!”

“For heaven’s sake, we are going into the tiger’s territory! How can the vehicle, not have a grill for the windows? It is a wild animal after all!” I asked. The forest ranger wasn’t going to back off so easily. “Sir, do you know the wildest animal on this planet? It is man! It is man! A tiger will kill only for food. A man can kill for a few paise! You want a grill for the windows? Ok. It may help you against the tiger. But then, what will you do if a wild elephant charges? A grill will be totally useless! It can topple the entire vehicle! What will you do then?”

The argument was going nowhere. Leave alone the tigers, there was now the wild elephant also to be factored! “Come on sir! Hop onto the vehicle! We are getting late! We will see some beautiful tigers, sir!”

Eventually, I took a hard decision. We will not go. The rest of the families, if they wished, could go on the jungle tour. I was certain they will spot some crows, some sparrows, some buffaloes, or maximum, a lonesome deer. Later in the day, the forest ranger gushed, “You missed it sir! You missed it! We saw a beautiful tiger, that too, at touching distance! At touching distance sir!”  Needless to say, there was a mutiny in the ranks and a riot within the family.

I am glad we are so fond of tigers. I am waiting for someone to post- “Went to the circus and saw this most beautiful tiger. So cute! Saw a tiger at the zoo, at touching distance! So beautiful! Wanted to give it a nice hug!” And some heart-emojis to go with this comment. After all, "janma-saaphalyam" can be attained only through a tiger-darshanam.

Let’s face it! These trips are not about the tiger at all. These trips are about us…about dare-devilry…about bravado…about putting our lives on the line…about tempting fate…all of this...to get those “thumbs-up” emojis…to boost our self-image…on social media! Isn't it?

“Sir! The next time, please fit a grill to the vehicle! I will surely come!”  I trailed off, as we left Kabini. “Sir, nothing will happen sir! Why are you so scared? A tiger is like a housecat! It runs away when it sees us with its tail between the legs. We look so scary sir! Think from the tiger’s angle, sir! Think like a tiger, sir!”

Poda!

 

 

Dum hai to pass kar!

This happened last week. While going to work in my office cab, I spotted a car just ahead. At the back of the car, a sentence was written. It read- “Dum hai to pass kar…nahi to bardaash kar!” Loosely translated, it would read- “If you have the guts, if you have the strength (dum hai), pass me, i.e. overtake the car and go ahead. If you cannot overtake, just stay behind the car and put up with me (bardaash kar)!”

Sometimes, you feel…as though the cosmic forces conspire to hand over the most topical message, gift wrapped and dispatched…just for you! The message can be sent through any vehicle, even the vehicle ahead! The more I pondered over this sentence, the more I was convinced that there was no greater teaching in life!

What does this line say? The first and foremost message is a “call for action”- “dum hai to pass kar”- “overtake this blessed car and surge ahead”! Isn’t this the message that Krishna conveyed to Arjuna? Arjuna, in your situation, you must be decisive and act…for any day, action is better than inaction- “karma jyaayah akarmanah”.

Krishna packs more punch into his argument-“Don’t be incompetent and put up with nonsense”, “klaibyam maa sma gamah”. Arjuna, you must do your bounden duty, you must fight- “kuru karmaani” and "yudhyasva".

The beauty of “dum hai to pass kar” is an additional, subtle point. Action should be “calculated and calibrated” and not done on an impulse. Rash daredevilry is also action, but obviously, it goes nowhere. Hence, the sentence says, “dum hai to”…“after having weighed all the pros and cons of the situation, including your own ability, your own strength, may you act”!

Now, we come to the second part of the sentence- “nahi to bardaash kar”. Sometimes, we face “choiceless situations” in life. Krishna calls this “aparihaarye”- “irremediable situations”. Action here is not of much use.  In such a situation, what should you do?  It is here that we get the great message of “kshamaa”- the ability “to cheerfully put up”, “to enthusiastically accommodate” and “to resiliently endure”. This is “bardaash kar”! Haven’t we heard- “what cannot be cured must be endured”?

All this flashed across my mind, even as the cab was stranded at Silk Board Junction for a good 45 minutes. The cab may have been static, but my mind was on a roll! Dum hai to pass kar…was like that prayer from Alcoholics Anonymous- “God! Give me the “strength” to change what I can, to “accept” what I cannot and finally, the “wisdom” to know what can be changed and what cannot be changed!”

I was indebted to the car ahead with its “dum hai” message for revealing life’s verities in a such a pithy and succinct manner!

The mind is a monkey! It can plunge "from the sublime to the ridiculous” in an instant! “Dum hai to pass kar” had an alternative interpretation. The most iconic song of the 1970s was “dum maaro dum, mit jaaye gham!”- “Take a puff, take a smoke, and watch all your grief and sadness melt away!” Truly, those times were modern to convey such a thought-provoking technique as a panacea for all problems in life. In college, haven’t we come across the smoker’s camaraderie, where one friend eggs the other to join him in those collective puff sessions? “Machaan! Pass the dum da!” This is exactly what “dum hai to pass kar” is talking about!

For the rest of us, the smell and smoke gave a severe headache. It was a nuisance.  What do you do then? This is where “bardaash kar” fits in! You learn to put up, you learn to tolerate. "Dum hai to pass kar, nahi to bardaash kar" was such a versatile statement!

I forgot where I was. I burst out laughing...enjoying my own ridiculousness, bordering on madness! The cab driver glanced at me. His eyes were a mix of worry, panic and alarm. Who knows? He may have even abandoned the cab and run for cover, wondering what kind of co-passengers he had. How do I tell him- that an entire universe was brewing in my head?

I love Bengaluru with its enormous traffic snarls. It gives you infinite time and scope to let your mind run loose and totally...totally...wild!

So near and yet sofa!

Not everyone can be Hanuman. He carried a portable sofa with himself. Captured by the rakshasas, he was paraded before Ravana in the durbar hall. He created a sofa according to his specification- adjusted to the correct height and with the appropriate amount of cushion, using his own tail! From this vantage point, he scanned his audience- brimming with “I am the master of all I survey” and took on his adversary. The sofa gave him this added edge and advantage.

The rest of us have to make-do with sofas that come in all kinds of flavors. When I visit someone’s home, I am always wary of the sofa I am about to settle in. Some sofas are veritable “sinkholes”- the kind of sinkholes you read about in the newspaper these days. The entire road suddenly caves in and takes with it cars and even entire trucks! Some sofas are exactly this kind. The moment you sit on the sofa, it sucks you into its depths like the famed Bermuda Triangle. There is absolutely no time to take evasive action. Peering from the precincts of this well helplessly, you will soon need external help to extricate yourself from this blackhole!

At the opposite end of the cushion-spectrum are sofas that are “all bone and no flesh”! Decades of usage has ensured that the foam is virtually non-existent. Newton’s third law of motion comes fully alive. You impose your weight on the sofa. Its bony, wooden frame resists and gives back a counterpunch! After a few minutes, it hurts badly. You try different antics- using your palms as a support pillar to hoist yourself that extra inch and lessen the weight on your seat. When the attention is focused on the lower part of your anatomy, coherent conversation with the host is impossible!

In some cases, the cushion is a free spirit. Each time you adjust yourself, the cushion is equally animated and moves along with you. In extreme cases, much to your horror, it bounces off the sofa and falls over. It is now a scramble- to retrieve the cushion and give it back its rightful place. We don’t know who is more red-faced- the host for owning such a sofa or you…for being so terribly clumsy!

They talk about the “swinging sixties”. That was before my time. The late-1970s and early-80s had two major inventions that virtually defined these decades. One was of course the “safari suit” that invaded and captured the man’s wardrobe. The other was the “sofa cum double bed”.  No home worth its salt could exist without a “sofa cum double bed”. It was like owning an i-phone- your social status was tied to it.

When you visited someone's place, the first activity was a “live demo” on the functioning of the sofa-cum-double-bed.  It was truly a path-breaking invention. When space was at a premium, it functioned as a compact sofa by the day. And come night-time, you could unfurl and expand it into a full-sized bed. How you reacted to this “demo” had a direct bearing on what proceeded thereafter. A lukewarm reaction got you lukewarm, stale coffee. “Wow! This sofa-cum-double-bed is absolutely stunning…and wonderful! It is so-so comfortable!” Such a reaction endeared you to the host and got you the best coffee- strong, hot, and frothy and even some tidbits to go with it!

Sofas have evolved over the decades.  There are sofas that rock and sofas where you can hoist your feet and rest, all with the click of a button. We spot even “massage sofas”- where the cushion curls and squeezes your sides, to “loosen the tension in the muscles” so that you feel “light and relaxed”.

Regardless of the amount of “research” you’ve done before purchasing the sofa, once it sits in your living room, you invariably wonder- maybe, we should have got a less bulky sofa, or perhaps a lighter color.  Like all else, it is a case of being so near and yet sofa!

 

On trees!

A certain modern day Indian writer is at his eloquent best when he writes about trees. A master wordsmith, his writings evoke nostalgia, “Those were simpler times. Roaming around the verdant hills of Dehra, we spent the innocent days of our childhood…climbing trees and eating lichis!” The “climbing trees and eating lichis” theme has supplied this favorite writer of mine, with ample text to fill several essays, spanning decades!

Life is unfair. For some of us, the entire topic centered on trees must be given a miss. The topic simply doesn’t exist. Growing up in Mumbai, there were no trees and surely no lichis. What is this “lichi” by the way?

Back then, there were exactly 2 trees in the neighborhood. The first was cut down when the roots were perceived as a threat to the structure of the adjacent building. The second was sliced in one swift, decisive move. A makeshift screen had to be stretched across the building compound for the evening “film-show” during Ganpati time. The “aavla tree” was seen as a distraction, with its branches obscuring portions of the screen. There was no choice. The aavla-tree had to make way for the night show.

I would have also written about “spending the golden days of my childhood…climbing aavla trees and eating succulent aavlas”. Alas, that was not to be. Thanks to this prickly past, I am terribly weak when it comes to tree matters.

A month ago, while getting to the office cab in the morning, I saw Venkat busy with the apartment gardener. “I need a clump of these neem leaves. My son is just getting out of chickenpox!” Venkat explained. “Wow! These leaves are so huge!” I expressed my earnest admiration. Venkat was stumped. “You mean these leaves? That’s not even “neem”. That’s almond! Neem tree is the one behind the almond tree!”  Venkat could not contain his bewilderment anymore. “You don’t know neem? What tree do you know then?”

Without batting an eyelid, I replied “Coconut!”. Coconut and I share an edgy past. In one “inter-school drawing competition” centered on the theme of “Kashmir”, I drew an elaborate landscape. There was Dal-Lake, there were the shikaras skimming across the lake, there were houseboats and of course snow-capped mountains.  There was also one lonesome coconut tree stretched across the page. Back home, after the competition, sister didn’t mince words, “You drew a coconut tree in Kashmir? In Kashmir? Your painting will be disqualified!” I did not see eye to eye with sister. What was the problem with the coconut tree? Kashmir se Kerala tak, hum sab ek hain, na? Also, like “poetic license”, isn’t there something called “painting license” which allows “an artist’s imagination to run riot”? What about all that tall talk? But sister was right. I didn’t win. May be, they did disqualify my entry.

After my morning tete-a-tete with Venkat, sitting in the office cab, I did some soul searching. How many trees did I really know? There was banyan, there was ashwattha vrksha, there was coconut and then the gulmohar. May be, I can include the pine tree also. The count ended at this point.

It was a humbling moment. Suddenly, other irrelevant trees gatecrashed into the mind, in fact, three of them. There was the “family tree”, there was the computer-science “binary tree” and the “Bhagavad Geeta samsaara tree”. Surprisingly, all the trees I knew about, were “upside down” trees, with the “root up” and the “branches below” (urdhva mulam…adhah shaakham)!  

Kalidasa was also weak when it came to trees. We read that he tried to cut the branch on which he was seated and was surprised that it matched a bystander’s “prediction” and he fell down! But some divine grace helped him. He grew up to be a master poet and composed a full verse, exclusively on trees. He enumerates them by the dozen… “ashwattha…vata-vrksha…chandana..mandaara” and ends by saying- ”kurvantu nah mangalam”- may all these trees bless us!

We can take a leaf from this incident.  There is some hope for every tree ignoramus, even an ignoramus who cannot distinguish between the root, the shoot and the fruit! Shoot!

The 10th man story!

If there is one story that is a great hit with children, it is the “10^th man story”. It is an ancient story. Adi Shankara (well before 8^th century AD) has referenced the tale in two of his works. In the 14^th century, the story was expanded by Swami Vidyaranya in his philosophical treatise "Pancha-dashi". These works are available today, lending credence to the fact, that the story is an ancient one.

More recently, in the 18^th century, the story was retold in Tamil by an Italian Jesuit priest called Beschi. His version called “Paramartha-guru and his foolish disciples” became very popular. It is this adaptation that I tried to narrate to my daughter, as a young parent, and she, as a kindergarten kid.

“Paramarthaguru was a teacher who had 9 disciples.  Each disciple was more foolish than the other. Their names were- “Matti”, “Madayan”, “Muudan”, “Muttaal”, “Milechan”, “Somberi” and others!” (It is tough to translate these names in English. We can loosely translate the names as “the simpleton fool”, “the total fool”, “the chronic fool”, “the pathological fool” etc.- essentially, increasing degrees of foolishness. The only outlier was “Somberi”, who was not only foolish, but lazy too.)

My daughter interrupted me immediately. “Appa! Why did these disciples have strange names like “Matti”, “Madayan” and “Muttaal”? Why didn’t they have names like the boys in my class- Aditya, Akhilan and Aryan? Why did Paramarthaguru have no girl students? Because they were not foolish? That’s why? How did the guru manage to collect so many foolish students?”

These were tough questions. I evaded them with simplistic answers and proceeded with the narration. “The guru and the students had to cross a river. Once they crossed the river and reached the opposite bank, they had to confirm that all 10 of them were intact. The guru asked Matti, the class monitor, to count. Matti counted- “1, 2, 3….” and found there were only 9. Matti was alarmed. One person is missing, he said gravely. Madayan knew that Matti was weak in Maths. He decided to count. Madayan counted, “1, 2, 3…” and reached 9 again! Indeed, one person was missing. Panic set in! Who was missing? Who was missing? Who got drowned in the river? Eventually, Paramarthaguru had to step in. The guru counted, but lo and behold, it was still 9! All of them started crying, fearing one student was lost. They just did not know who was lost!”

“Did they cry softly or loudly, Appa? The teacher also cried? He also? Did they have a handkerchief to wipe their face?” my daughter asked. Again, I side-stepped these concerns and continued.

“A passerby saw this bawling group and wanted to help. He heard the entire story. He lined up all of them. He gave a whack to each person with a cane! Each victim shouted out his name and the increment in the count. Matti-one, Madayan-two, Muttaal-three…and finally, it was Guru-ten! The 10^th person has come back, the 10^th person has come back, they screamed in glee! They rejoiced and hugged each other!”

As a parent, you couldn’t end the story abruptly, without elucidating the profound message that it conveys. Shifting gears, I went on a philosophical spiel. “What does this story convey? What was the problem? Each person counted the rest, without including himself. That is the problem in life. We feel the problem is outside and search for a solution outside. We never realize that the root cause of the problem is me. The problem is me. The solution is me! The 10^th person, for whom they all cried, was never lost. He was already there, all the time, even while they were crying. They didn’t realize that the 10^th person was the very “cryer”, the crying person! “Aham dashamah, aham dashamah”, I am the 10^th person, I am the 10^th person…that is the claim that must be made! That is realization! That is realization! Do you get it?”

I sat back, filled with the satisfaction of a parent, who had succeeded in disseminating the most profound teaching to the next generation, that too, so early in life. My daughter was lucky. She blinked back, rolling her eyes. “But Appa, actually…actually…who got lost and came back? It was Somberi correct? He was lazy and stayed back on the other side itself, right?  He played hide-and-seek and crossed the river when they started counting, no? I knew the missing person was Somberi! I knew that! I knew that!” 

Paramarthaguru may have found a new disciple and an original thinker!

An ode to the groundnut!

The train from Mumbai ambles into Lonavla station. It is late afternoon. The vendors make brisk business peddling their usual wares- tea, coffee, and other tidbits. Over and above the hubbub, a particular vendor catches your attention as he announces, “Chikki…chikki…Lonavla chikki…Maganlal Lonavla chikki!”

There is a certain mystique in this vendor’s enunciation- how he adds attributes in successive tiers, like a classical vocalist building up a raga step by step. He creates an element of suspense by starting with just “chikki”; he follows it up with more detail by mentioning “Lonavla chikki” and finally, he hits the crescendo with the grand, climactic finish of “Maganlal Lonavla chikki”! That’s how you market a product effectively.

Lonavla and “chikki” are synonymous. Like Tirupati and laddu, Tirunelveli and halwa, Agra and Petha…Lonavla and chikki are inseparable.

Several decades ago, Maganlal created a brand name around this groundnut delicacy. If someone asked, “Can I give you some “Madan Lal chikki” instead, or maybe, some “Madana-gopal chikki" as an alternative?” you were shell-shocked and flatly refused. You rose to your full height and declared, “Nice try! But I want Maganlal Lonavla chikki and no other chikki! Ok?”

This groundnut sweetmeat was packaged in an attractive cardboard-case filled with multiple slices of “chikki”. There was “groundnut-with-jaggery-chikki", “groundnut-with-caramel-chikki" and even a “powdered-groundnut-chikki” version. No self-respecting train traveler could resist the indulgence. The groundnut did the trick- it raised the sweetness level of the journey by several notches! By the time the train reached Pune, an hour later, you could scarcely believe, that the cardboard-case was completely empty. Only the chikki-crumbs were left- they lay scattered on the lap and on the train-seat. You ran your finger over the crumbs and gave the finger a good lick, to catch the last vestige of chikki!

If “chikki” is a favorite for the foodie with a sweet tooth, groundnut in its salty avatar is a greater hit. As you loitered around the great cricket maidans of South Mumbai, you were irresistibly drawn to the groundnut vendor. The vendor moved around with a basket strung from the shoulder and hanging at the belly. The basket was heaped with groundnuts, kept warm from the embers of a compact coal-pot. On one side of the basket, paper-cones were strung, cone upon cone, like a multistoried building!

The moment you expressed interest, with a flourish, the vendor drew out a paper-cone. His fingers reached out for a tiny, metal, measuring cup. One scoop from that measure filled the cone. But the vendor wasn’t done yet. He looked at you in the eye with overflowing generosity, took a few extra groundnuts in hand, and topped the cone. That way, he had gone beyond the call of duty (and his measuring cup) and given full value for your money and a lot more!

Warm, crisp, laced with a dash of salt, and with the hanging aroma of coal, the groundnuts were a delightful snack. In a few minutes, you shook the paper-cone for some more, only to find it empty. You now inspected the paper-cone in all its detail. It was indeed a piece of artwork.  It gave the illusion of being commodious…a tall cone, a veritable skyscraper, but was crafted so unbelievably narrow, that barely one column of groundnuts could fit in! Hungry for more, you ran after the vendor for a second helping!

Groundnut is often called a “poor man’s almond”. If groundnut had had a human face, it would have stoutly protested and filed a character defamation case against the almond! And rightfully so- after all, can anyone, least of all almond, beat the groundnut, for its taste and versatility?

In the US, groundnuts are called “peanuts”. “I slog like a dog at my workplace, but they pay me peanuts for all the hard work!” the American complains. I wish I could tell him, “You get paid in peanuts? You said…you get paid in peanuts, did you? Give me your job maan! I will make some sweet “chikki”, some “cooked-groundnut-sundal with coconut”, some roasted, groundnut-savory and munch away! I want your job maan! I want the peanuts…sacks and sacks…of peanuts!”

 

Writing a diary!

A month or two before the year ended, somehow, a diary made its way home. No one purchased a diary, back then. Still, each year, unfailingly, it had an uncanny knack to reach home.  Sometimes, it was gifted by a “client” at father’s office, or it was dispatched from a “company” where some “investment” was made. It didn’t matter.  All you wanted was a brand new diary.

A diary was irresistible- it compelled you to write. May be, it was the leather cover, may be, it was the paper. A pleasant aroma wafted in the air, the moment you picked it up. The pages were fresh and silken smooth, the kind, you wanted to caress repeatedly, and rest your cheek against. The diary had an inbuilt bookmarker, a thin ribbon that took you to the page of interest. In some cases, the diary was neatly apportioned into sections, with a discrete “section divider page”.

Sitting at the desk, with the diary in front, and with a fountain pen in hand, you felt like an artist pondering over his fresh canvas, and about to embark on his masterpiece! What should you write in the diary- was the million-dollar question.

One section in the diary had to be dedicated to “Maths sums”. The “interminable transactions between Ram and Shyam” went into this section. Ram had 16 mangoes. If he had to divide them equally between himself and Shyam, how many mangoes will each get? You tolerated these never-ending problems like a toothache, with the fervent hope that one day, even this will pass away! Strangely, copying these “Maths sums” in a new, gleaming diary, made even Maths look interesting and engaging. The diary did the trick!

From time to time, some advice came your way- “How will you improve your English?  You should diligently write down the meanings of all the words that you don’t know in a diary!” While the suggestion was well meaning, implementation was complicated. Any sentence you read, whether it was in the newspaper or in a storybook, there were at least a couple of words you didn’t know. “Gloat”, “Grin”, “stealing a furtive glance”, “wearing a pensive look”- random words and expressions, filled the diary. Once this section was populated, the diary had to be kept under lock and key. Imagine if elder sister looked at this wordlist. She will surely comment, “What? You don’t know the meaning of “grin”? “Grin” you don’t know? Grin? Do you go to school or simply hang around at 5-gardens and come home?”

Off and on, you needed the diary “to vent out your feelings” and “express yourself”. These days, it is called “journalling”. But this exercise existed back then too. On the first day, you wrote, “Today, I am feeling angry”. Once this sentence was written, you hit a writer’s block. What more can you write when you are angry? The next day, you felt the same, but some modification had to be made in the sentence to avoid repetition. “Today, I am feeling very very angry!” Soon, this section resembled the “degrees of comparison” topic in Wren and Martin- angry, angrier, angriest followed by a bout of happy, happier, happiest before slipping again to sad, sadder, saddest!

Everyone wrote English poetry- at least to submit a poem for the annual school magazine. Once the diary lay open on a blank page, poetry flowed. Just as Goddess Saraswati had bestowed the “gift of poesy” to Kalidasa by writing on his tongue, I had little doubt, she did the same through this diary! “I felt on top of the earth!” I wrote, and immediately…immediately…the next line wrote itself out- “The kind, I have never felt since birth!”  Reams and reams of sublime poetry gushed forth, with not one moment’s pause or deliberation. It was unbelievable!

The most interesting section in the diary was dedicated to Cricket. “S.M Gavaskar caught Rixon bowled Thomson”. At the end of the series in Australia, I planned to have a complete analysis on Gavaskar ready- how many runs he scored, the manner in which he got out, where his weakness lay, and how he could improve himself. Sadly, this detailed research stayed in my diary and did not reach the Little Master in time.

The diary was my “constant companion through rain and shine” (to borrow an expression from the diary itself). One day, grandma came by, and said she wanted a diary. I was alarmed. Why did grandma need a diary? Is she also going to write angry, angrier, angriest? Grandma was very clear, “I need a diary to write “shri raama jayam”! Everything else is useless tinsel!”

You cannot beat the finality of grandma’s pronouncement- everything else is useless tinsel!

 

 

 

 

 

Vatapi Ganapatim bhajeham!

Happy Ganesh Chaturthi! Using this occasion to exchange some thoughts on the musical compostion "Vatapi Ganapatim bhajeham". The reader will surely know all of this. Still, taking the liberty to dwell on this song.

This composition in Sanskrit, by Muthuswamy Dikshitar, is by far, one of the most popular kritis in Carnatic music. It is set to the raga Hamsadhwani.

Vatapi Ganapati refers to Ganesha who belonged to the place called "Vatapi". What is Badami today, in Northern Karnataka, was "Vatapi" earlier. In the 7th century AD, the Pallava king Narasimha Varma attacked Badami, which was ruled by the Chalukyas. As a trophy, this idol of Ganesha was brought back from Vatapi to Tamil Nadu by the Pallavas.

It is believed that the idol of Ganesha at the Tiruvarur temple, is this Vatapi Ganapati. Dikshitar lived in Tiruvarur. (Note: This is as per a book I have. There are other accounts that mention that this idol is elsewhere! It does not matter.)

With this background, we look at the composition, line by line.

Vatapi ganapatim bhajeham-  Dikshitar says- "I worship Vatapi Ganapati". The opening line is straightforward and expresses the intent. The rest of the composition adds details to this Vatapi Ganapati.

What kind of a Ganesha is he?

vaaranaasyam varapradam shri: The one who has an elephant face "vaarana aasyam" and the one, who is the bestower of all "varam" (boons). The trailing "shri" is an honorific. When the singer ends this line and goes back to the first line, it will now read as "shri vatapi ganapatim"!

Why is Ganesha specially mentioned as "vara-pradam"? It is said, before worshipping any deity, the first deity to be worshipped, is Ganesha. It's as if, other deities can bestow boons, only if sanctioned by Ganesha! Otherwise, even the "vara-providing capacity" of other deities, will be rendered null and void! (There is a shloka on this). Hence, vara-pradam for Ganesha.

Bhutaadi samsevita charanam: The one, whose feet (charanam) were served/worshipped by "bhuta-ganas". Ganesha is "ganaanaam pati"- the lord of all the ganas of Lord Shiva. "gajaananam bhuta-ganaadi sevitam" is a popular line. Dikshitar uses the same idea here.

Bhuta-bhautika prapancha bharanam: The lord of the entire creation (prapancha). The creation is made up of 5 elements: "earth, water, fire, air, space" (pancha-bhuta prapancha) as well as the combinations of the 5 elements (bhautika prapancha).

Veeta raaginam, vinuta yoginam: That Ganesha who is "free from raaga" (i.e. free from attachment) and who is worshipped by the yogis "vinuta yoginam". It seems awkward to say Ganesha is free from attachment- after all, he is the Almighty! We have to look at it as follows- the devotee wants to be free from attachment and hence invokes that particular aspect in Ganesha. 

Vishwa kaaranam, vighna vaaranam:  The one who is the cause of the world...vishwa kaaranam...and the one, who removes all obstacles "vighna vaaranam". Here, Dikshitar mentions Ganesha's main department- he is vighna-harta, vighneshwara etc.

Puraa kumbha sambhava munivara prapujitam: The one who was worshipped (pra-pujitam) by the great sage  (muni-vara) i.e. Agastya, long ago (puraa). Why is Agastya suddenly mentioned? We have to go to the story related to how The Kaveri River was born. Ganesha in the form of a crow, toppled Agastya's kamandalu, and from that, The Kaveri River flowed. Since Dikshitar spent his life beside the Kaveri, he is reminded of this incident. 

Trikona madhya gatam: Dikshitar is a "Shri-Vidya upaasaka". In this form of worship, the Shri-Chakra is made up of triangles "tri-kona" and at the center (called "bindu") of all the triangles (madhya gatam), the supreme being is present. Hence, he sees Ganesha, as though at the centre of the triangle.

Murari pramukhaadi upaasitam: That Ganesha, who was worshipped by Murari (Vishnu) and other (adi) prominent beings "pramukha". Why is Vishnu brought in? It will be fitting to translate Murari as Krishna, since today is Ganesh Chaturthi. Ganesha and Krishna are connected on this day. It is said, that Krishna saw the moon on this day, and as a result, underwent a terrible time (when he was accused of even murder). The reader should refer to the story of "syamantaka mani", where this episode is narrated. It is said that the one who remembers this story of Krishna and syamantaka mani on Ganesha chaturthi, is spared of all ills, even if he accidentally sees the moon today! 

Muladhaara kshetra sthitam:  The one who is present at the base of the spine "mulaadhaara chakra" as "energy" (praana-shakti) in every person.

Paraadi chatvaari vaagaatmakam: It is this praana-shakti (mentioned in the earlier line) that helps in all activities including "speech" (vaak) (vaagaatmakam). It is said, before speech comes out of the mouth, it goes through 4 stages where it changes from "subtle sound to finally audible sound". The 4 stages of sound/speech-production are "paraa, pashyanti, madhyamaa and vaikhari". Hence "chatvaari" (4 fold nature) of "paraadi"- i.e. "paraa + adi" starting from "paraa" and going through the stages of pashyanti etc. till it finally becomes audible, oral speech. 

This point is connected to the previous idea of "mulaadhaara" because "paraa", "pashyanti" etc. are also mapped with particular chakras starting from "mulaadhaara". Hence, Dikshitar mentions them together.

Pranava swarupa vakratundam: What is the synthesis of all sounds (mentioned in the previous line)? It is "om" i.e. pranava. Hence, "pranava swarupa". And vakratundam- the one with a curved trunk. It is ironical- after talking about the science of sound and speech, suddenly, we get the mention of the trunk. The trunk covers the mouth (of the elephant). When we speak before a mahatma, we cover the mouth and speak- this gesture conveys humility (vinaya). Hence, Ganesha exemplifies both vidya (speech) and vinaya (humility)

 Nirantaram nikhila chandra khandam: Note: There are alternate, slightly different words for this line.  Ganesha is the one who wears the moon on the forehead. We have the name "phaalachandra" for Ganesha. The moon represents time...since time is measured in terms of the phases of the moon (tithi). Ganesha holds the moon on his head means that he is the lord of time. Hence, he is nirantaram- permanent. 

Nija vaama kara vidruta ikshu dandam: In these words, we have a description of Ganesha for the purpose of meditation (upaasana). We saw previously that he has a trunk, and holds the moon on the head etc. Here, we have a reference to his hands. In his left hand (vaama kara), he holds an "ikshu dandam" (sugarcane stick).

Karaambuja paasha beejapuram: In his lotus-like hands (kara-ambuja), he holds a noose (paasha) and a fruit (beejapuram). Apparently, beejapuram is a kind of lemon. Though we can ascribe some signifance for paasha, fruit etc, essentially, these descriptions are used to complete the picture of Ganesha for upaasana (for meditation).

kalusha viduram bhutaakaaram: The one who destroys all negativity (kalusha viduram). Next, bhutaakaaram. Aakaara is form. The one who has the 5-elements (bhutas) as his very form. Earlier, we said, Ganesha creates/sustains this world made up of pancha-bhutas. Now, we say, he not only created the world, but also exists..."as the world" (bhutaakaaram). 

haraadi guruguha toshita bimbam: The one who was pleased (toshita) by hara (shiva), guruguha (kartikeya) and adi (others). Bimbam means original. Pratibimbam means reflection. Hence, Ganesha is the original, the Truth, while everything else exists as his reflection. We can extrapolate more. Guruguha is of course Dikshitar's trademark signature also.

Hamsadhvani bhushita herambam:  The one who is adorned with Hamsadhvani raga. Dikshitar embeds each composition with the name of the raga. This composition is in Hamsadhvani raga, and this composition is offered as an ornament to Ganesha. 

Hamsa is a swan. Mythical swans had the ability to separate milk from water and drink only the milk! Hence, hamsa can mean- separating the good from the bad and taking only the good. Or separating the impermanent from the permanent (atma-anatma viveka etc.) Hamsa mantra is also the maha-vakya- "aham sah" ("aham sah" becomes "hamsa" when repeated multiple times!). I the indvidual (aham) and He (sah) the Lord...are essentially one. Hamsadhvani refers to this hamsa-geeta.

Ganesha is called "herambam" here. Heramba is Ganesha seated on a lion. An elephant is mortally scared of a lion- we say "simha swapnam". But in Heramba, the opposites...elephant and lion, come together. It's as if, in the Lord, even the opposites exist, integral to him, without conflict.

Such a Ganesha, I meditate upon, says Dikshitar- "vatapi ganapatim bhajeham" and we come back to the first line.

Once the krti is over, we cannot end it abruptly! We are reminded of musicians singing their favorite swara-patterns at this point...."paa ga ri sa ri...vaa..taa...pi"...."saa ni paa ga ri ni ri...vaa...taa...pi" etc!!!!

"Theatrical acting" and "method acting"!

Sivaji Ganesan was truly a legend in Tamil cinema. For any cinema buff, who lived during those decades, Sivaji was the yardstick, based on which, all other actors were measured. Once started on this topic, elders in the family waxed eloquent, “Sivaji was the most complete actor. The current day artistes cannot hold a candle to him! This is not blind fanaticism. Look at the range of roles he has played! In “Nava-ratri”, he did 9 characters in one film, each character, completely different from the other! Much later, they tried to copy the film in Hindi with a different actor. But who can match Sivaji? Sivaji is Sivaji!”

What was equally admirable, was the consistency, when it came to supporting arguments, from a Sivaji fan. It was as if, like the thespian, the fan too, followed the same script, whether it be father or any other uncle in the extended family. “In Thillana-Mohanambal, Sivaji learnt to play the nadaswaram, so that he could essay the role convincingly! Look at his finger movements, the wobble in his shoulders, and even the blood-vessel throbbing on his forehead! And when it came to the film “Mridanga-chakravarti”, he mastered the percussion instrument. His entire body language was spot-on! “Nadai-udai-bhaavanai”- in walk, in dress, in expression, he became the role! That was his forte! His portrayal of “Karna” was matchless. And when it came to the freedom fighter “veera pandiya kattabomman”, what can we say? The dialogues from the film are cinematic folklore, that give goosebumps even now!” At this point, the Sivaji fan normally drifted off to “kisthi-thirai-vari-vaddi…” Sivaji’s most iconic tete-a-tete with “Jackson Durai” in the film!

Growing up in Mumbai, we were one generation too late.  Sivaji’s “heydays” were over. Also, access to Sivaji’s films was limited. Occasionally, the Sunday afternoon “regional film” on TV was a Tamil film in which Sivaji starred. Call it generation gap, you couldn’t help, but make some observations, “He is so melodramatic. Don’t you think his emotions are a little over the top, appa?” The Sivaji fan at home interjected before you could continue further, “Yes, he comes from a theatre background. In a drama, you need to emote- to convey that “rasa” to the audience. You cannot mumble, like today’s artistes do, standing still, like a pillar or a tree! The performance must be impactful, and that’s where Sivaji was head and shoulders above all others!”

If the Sunday afternoon film was in a regional language, the Sunday evening TV slot was reserved for Bollywood. Sometimes, they played films from a previous era. Comparisons were inevitable. The superstar Dilip Kumar followed a different acting style. He was called a “method actor”. No one exactly knew what “method acting” meant. Maybe, in acting too, there was a set template that could be followed- perhaps, some “method to the madness”.

Dilip saab was from that school. As Prince Salim, in the film Mughal-e-Azam, he took on Akbar, the Great. It was truly…a clash of the titans! “Taqdeeren badal jaati hain, zamaanaa badal jaataa hai, mulkon ki taareekh badal jaati hai…”- Dilip saab’s legendary lines from the film, left its impact on an entire generation of cinemagoers.

The Sivaji fan, his pride, pricked earlier in the day, took pot-shots at this scene. “The lines are beautiful, but with due credit to Dilip Saab, he is mumbling, with no enunciation or emphasis at all! It falls completely flat. He sounds like a cricket commentator running through some rote lines like…3 slips, a gully, a short leg…! Where is the emotion, where is the emotion, I say?”

 Someone had to rush to Dilip saab’s rescue, “Yes, the emotion is “understated”. It is restrained acting, and that’s what gives it greater impact. Maybe, Salim and Akbar talked in such a matter-of-fact fashion, back then. Who knows?”

Once the film ended on Sunday night, suddenly, the dread of Monday morning and school loomed large.  Some comic relief was needed to ease the tension. We took Dilip saab’s lines and parodied how Sivaji would have rendered the same scene. Sivaji would have likely said “Taqdeeren” and stopped. He would have peppered it with a low baritone laugh, followed by “badal jaati hain”, his eyes bulging, followed by a purse of the lips, and with his arms held aloft, in a dramatic style! The dialogue would have taken forever. By then, Akbar would have given up. Anarkali would have surely given up. And Akbar would have anyway dispatched marching orders to seal Anarkali’s fate. As far as Prince Salim goes…who knows? He will still be pantomiming…in the middle of his impactful speech, oblivious to all else!

Sivaji and Dilip saab- two actors, two styles, two languages, both…legends all the same!

All Greek and Latin!

Decades ago, when we were in college, there was a student agitation. As with any unrest, it was on the verge of getting out of hand. Seniors in college tried their best to drive sense into our heads, “If the agitation continues like this, sine die ho jayega! Do you get it?”

“What did you say? What will happen?” I questioned, all puzzled. “Sine die! Sine die will happen!” the senior replied. “What is sign and die?” I asked, even more confused. “You don’t know what sine die is? Trying to act over smart, are you? Bada “phoky” ban raha hai kya?”

‘Sine die’ still did not make any sense. In the days when there was no Google baba or ChatGPT, there was no easy reference to clarify these probing doubts. But the threat of ‘sine die’ helped. We assumed sine die, to be signing one’s own death warrant. When life is threatened, discretion is the better part of valor. We went back to classes the next day. 

The following year, for the same cause, there was a repeat agitation. Classes were thrown out of gear. The ‘sine die’ brahmaastra did not work, this time around. The college authorities had no choice but to close the premises and send everyone home. Soon, a letter was dispatched to all the parents. Sitting in Mumbai, I read the letter peering over my father’s shoulder. It read, “Dear parent, we hereby inform you, that regrettably, the university is closed sine die. Please ensure that your ward does not participate in nefarious activities, that can prove detrimental to himself and his academic future.”

As father looked up with a grave expression, my reaction was instinctive, “I did not do anything! I did not do anything at all, appa! Others agitated! I simply watched!” There were 2 problems with the letter. No self-respecting young man going to college, can brook reference to himself as a “ward”. “Ward” made you look like a kindergarten kid, wearing a silly, floral shirt…with a lollipop in hand and a schoolbag over your shoulders! The kind, you would extend your hand and say, “Aye Munna! Idhar aa! Come here! Take this chocolate! Toffee ley…beta!” How can the university chancellor call me a “ward”? It wounded my self-respect to the bone.

The second problem was this reference to “sine die”. “What is ‘sine die’, Appa?” I asked. “It means that the university is closed indefinitely, with no reopening date!” father replied sternly. It was a Eureka moment. ‘Sine die’ was a simple Latin expression that meant- “without a future date being fixed”.

Anger bubbled up with this realization. They could very well have used the words “will be closed indefinitely” all along, instead of this “sine die” mumbo jumbo!  Why can’t people speak in simple English? English itself is tough to understand, and now, they confuse and confound us even more by peppering the language with Greek and Latin!

Thanks to this incident, a distaste set in…for any Latin words in English. However, the more you run, the more it pursues you. Pick up the newspaper and it says, “The supreme court has taken ‘suo motu’ cognizance of the matter”. Irritation wells up. What is suo motu? Does it mean a stout man, a “motu” in vernacular speech, a sumo wrestler perhaps?  Newspaper editorials are invariably written in Latin, or so it seems, with English words added as an afterthought. No wonder, they are unreadable. They are filled with references to “quid pro quo” and “status quo” as well as archaic expressions like “ad nauseam” and “ad infinitum”. What is worse, I recently learnt, even the simple “et cetera” is Latin!

A couple of years ago, I was at my daughter’s school for her graduation ceremony. You know how these functions go- the kind, where the new generation is extolled as the “beacon of hope for the future” and how, it is now..."their time to shine”! It ended with the expression, “carpe diem!” Everyone shouted back- “Carpe diem, Carpe diem!” So did I...all pumped up. Later, I asked my daughter, “What was that strange word towards the end? Carpe…something…kai-po-che...something?” My daughter explained, “Carpe diem means ‘to seize the moment’. It means you live in the present and make best use of the present moment! It is a Latin expression, appa!”

I squeezed my palms in exasperation! Life indeed had come a full circle!

Horn ok please!

Among unsolved mysteries, “Horn ok please”, will stay right at the top. This pithy message is painted behind every truck. We may have deciphered the hieroglyphic script in ancient Egypt. One day, the puzzle of the Mohenjo Daro script will be solved. But “horn ok please” shall continue to elude us.

We surmise “Horn ok please” must be some kind of “maha-vakya” like “tat twam asi”. We are sure the meaning is subtle and sublime. We try our best to understand the content, by re-arranging the words. Does it mean “All is ok with you? Then, please sound the horn!” Or “Is your horn ok? Then, please sound it!” Whichever way we look at it, we are dissatisfied with the outcome.

However, “horn ok please” has inspired us for generations. We’ve taken to sounding the horn, as naturally as...a fish takes to water. Sometimes, we get visitors from the US who complain, “Why is everyone honking?” We knit our eyebrows, all puzzled, and ask a counter question, “You said honking, did you? When? Where?”  “All around us! Can’t you hear?” is the retort. That’s when we align our ears to the noise and suddenly exclaim, “O yes! I hear it now! Never even realized anyone was honking!”

From the style of honking, you can gauge the mood of the person, behind the wheel. That is the beauty!  If the horn sounds with a short, crisp “beep” at each crossroad, it reflects a “cheery” person. All is good with himself and with the world around him. A person who is in a mad-rush to reach the railway station, conveys his impatience with a continuous round of “beep-beep-beep”. His intent is clear through the horn, “Get out of the way, you slobs! I have no time!”

The horn can convey “anger”. This is seen when the traffic-signal turns green and the vehicle in front, shows no urgency to start. The horn is sounded with a certain “continuum in the duration”- it is one long “beeeeep”. The horn taunts the person, “You sleepy head! Wake up! Wake up and move your car!”

The horn can indicate “frustration”. This mood is sensed when you are stuck in a traffic jam. For 45 minutes, you stay rooted to the same spot. You have no idea what the delay is due to. “When is this jam going to clear? God! I cannot take this anymore!” How do you express this intense frustration? By honking!  You honk without reason, without taking your fingers off, knowing fully well, there’s no one to hear you, or respond to your plea!

The entire gamut of human emotion, shringaara, raudra, bibhatsa…you name it, the nava-rasas can be conveyed through a simple horn.

Horns come in different flavors. In the good, old days, auto-rickshaws had a “suction-horn”. You pressed the bulbous, balloon-like object and it let out a low-pitch, strangulated yelp. Then came the inter-state buses fitted with the “electric horn”. Like “trigger-happy” goons, inter-state drivers are “honk-happy” folks. They cannot drive without sounding the horn- like taking a lick of pickle for every morsel of curd-rice. At the end of the journey, you are left with a strong headache. In some cases, the cars are fitted with a “jingle”, a popular tune that plays automatically, each time the vehicle backs up. The regularity with which the song plays, it is the perfect recipe…that soon, very soon, you will detest the song with your entire being!

All is quiet. It is 2 am. Pin drop silence. Peace and tranquility reigns. Like a blanket, the night has spread itself out, enveloping the entire world in its cozy ambit. And then, comes the anti-climax. Out of the blue, the burglar-alarm sounds from one of the parked cars. It scares the living daylights out of you. It is a high-pitched shriek, followed by a continuous “clank-clank-clank” and then, the sound goes back to the shriek. This pattern continues- “shriek-clank-clank-shriek-clank-clank”. Street dogs bark in anger. The entire neighborhood is wide-awake, some peering out of the balcony. Imagine if every car was fitted with this monstrous horn?

After 20 minutes of absolute mayhem, sanity returns. Maybe, the burglar walked away with the car. We cannot thank him enough. Maybe, the owner turned the alarm off. Maybe, a good samaritan came down with a cricket bat and broke the car down, along with its horn.

Whichever way, we are perfectly fine...and go back to sleep!

Hydrate yourself!

“Hydrate yourself” is a popular mantra. We see it everywhere- on social media, in the newspapers, in the self-help books and even on the flight. “Be sure to drink 6-8 glasses of water each day!” is a uniform piece of advice. Sometimes, more details are added, “Warm water, on an empty stomach, first thing in the morning, is preferable”. And at times, “A pinch of jeera added to the water cleanses the entire system.”

When paparazzies send us pictures of our favorite actors and actresses going to the gym, an unmissable accessory, is the fancy water-bottle in their hands. It is an immediate reminder to hydrate ourselves.

The importance of this advice is undeniable. It is the implementation that faces challenges. Imagine if I drank a gallon of water and started for my office. Midway through the journey, stuck in traffic at Silk-Board junction, for over 45 minutes, what will I do? I may have to abandon the car forthwith...and run to the restroom!  

Back then, in the good, old, days…the train ride from Mumbai to Roorkee took 36 hours (on paper). Using the train-restroom was not for the faint-hearted. A bio-break had to wait till you reached the university. “Hydrate yourself” had to be tempered with more practical concerns.

Executives from the US, when they travel to India, are notorious in following “hydrate yourself” to an extreme. Maybe, they fear that the Indian heat will consume them. When this executive visits the office in India, he is armed with a plastic water-bottle. As he sits in the meeting, every few seconds, he takes a swig from the bottle.  In no time, he has finished off a bottle, and reached out for another. That done, he reaches out for the third.

You keep staring at him with a growing sense of alarm. You feel like telling him, “Dude! They say…Sage Agastya drank the entire ocean. At least, Agastya was considerate and drank only ocean water. If you consume fresh water like this, what will remain for the rest of us? In your country, you have the Great-Lakes. But, mister, remember, you are in India! We have 1.4 billion people here. All of us rely on the vagaries of the monsoon. At this rate, you will deplete the entire water table. Have some mercy on us!”

The office-boy steps into the meeting room with a fresh stock of water-bottles. You feel like lashing out at him, “As it is, this man is sucking the Kaveri River dry. And you are adding more bottles? Have some common sense please!”  This time, you pocket a bottle, even if you aren’t going to touch it. At least, one bottle can be saved from the other’s clutches!

The mind is filled with more creative strains of thought. You are suddenly reminded of the camel. You wonder, “Maybe, he thinks…he must drink all the water today, because he may not get water tomorrow!” You want to calm him down and assure him, “Mister! Don’t worry! You will get water tomorrow also to “hydrate yourself”. By God’s grace, there is still some punya left in this land. You need not drink all the water now and store it in your hump, like a camel!”

Imagination runs riot. By now, you can spot a hump growing on his back, as he empties another bottle. You wonder if he will have only one hump like the Indian camel, or 2 humps like the Central-Asian camel. Soon, you can no longer see the person in the meeting-room. His place is taken over by a camel. The more you look, more features seem to match.

The corners of your mouth curl up into an impish smile and a giggle almost escapes the mouth. By now…the meeting room…the meeting...the problem under discussion…the pros and cons of the proposed solution…everything has been wiped out...clean...from the mind’s canvas!

Suddenly, I hear my name. It is my manager’s voice. He asks a pointed question, “Shankar, what is your opinion on this? How long will it take to implement this solution?” The directness of the question breaks the reverie. When you are caught napping, it is tough to give a coherent answer immediately.

I take my time. I open the cap of the water-bottle slowly, hydrate myself, clear my throat, and wear a pensive look. “Well, the solution is good, but we need to deep-dive more...into the details,” is my non-committal reply, as I take another sip.

 

 

 

"Onion color sari"..and the world of colors!

We can understand if there is disagreement related to the recent Indian-budget or over the US presidential candidate. These are complicated topics and subject to interpretation. Surprisingly, even a topic as commonplace as the ‘world of colors’, there is such divergence- of both opinion and nomenclature.

“I like this white-color dress,” you mention at the clothes shop. “Actually, this is not white, this is off-white!” you hear back. The next time you go shopping, you are alert. “I like this off-white dress!” “You mean the cream-colored one?” asks the salesman. You get it now?  The vocabulary changes, with subtle variations in the same color. From “white”, you travel to “off-white”, from “off-white” to “cream”, from “cream” to “peach” and from “peach” …to grandma’s version called “biscuit-color”!  I like grandma’s version the best- it is clear, and we know exactly what color it is.

A visit to the sari-shop is an excellent opportunity to learn your colors all over again. “Look at this new sari- It is kanchivaram silk and in ‘Rama’s-green’ (raamar-pachhai)!”  says the salesman. What is this “Rama’s-green”? For the uninitiated, while the rest of India thinks Lord Rama’s skin-tone is blue, in South-India, especially in Tamil Nadu, Rama’s skin-tone is green. When the dashaavataara dolls are brought out during Navaratri, Rama’s idol stands out. He is truly “aprameya”- his color defies easy classification. Some call it peacock-blue, others call it peacock-green, but women understand it perfectly. When they say “raamar-pachhai sari”, they know exactly what color it is!

When women refer to sari-colors, the colors are expressed in terms of well-known objects. This ensures all women are on the same page and there is absolutely no confusion. A dark-brown sari is called “coffee-color sari”. If the border of the sari is reddish-brown, it is called “arakku border sari” (color of ‘lac’). If the sari is "shocking-pink", you call it “mutai color” (“mithai color”) or alternately as “rose color”, if the shade is lighter. Colors with complicated names like “lavender” are a total no-no. A sari in lavender is easily described by the term “onion-color sari”. (Of course, when someone says onion-color sari, you often wonder if the sari will inherit the smell too!) If it is yellow, it becomes “chandana-color sari”, the color of sandalwood. And if it is orange, it becomes “saamanti color”, the color of marigold flowers. And if there are multiple colors, it is easy- it is simply called a “color-color sari”! If the sari is in today’s much touted “pastel shades”, in earlier times, you made a face and kept it aside, saying, “romba dull adikaradhu” (it is too dull and unsightly)!

For centuries, women have successfully communicated (among themselves), colors and their subtle differences with this easy classification model. Now, let’s take men (only men could have come up with these names), for their car colors. “Burgundy”, “Beige”, “Rust”, “Teal Metallic” and “Sand”- are some common car colors. What do these color-codes convey to the common man? Zilch! Also, compared to the rich hues in the world of saris, cars have got stuck to a tiny palette of nondescript colors. We await the day when we will have a “chandana color car” to break out of this monotony.

In India, you find reference to some colors that are unique to its cultural milieu. The matrimonial columns advertise prospective bride/grooms as “wheat colored”. It is amazing. We can visualize an entire person through a single grain of wheat! (Perhaps, this is what William Blake meant when he wrote, “to see the world in a grain of sand”). Later, when these families met, we surmise, they carried some wheat grains in the pocket, and carefully checked the person against the grain, to ensure the description was accurate, and they weren’t taken for a ride!

In South-India, after attending a wedding, you often had to describe the bride and the groom to family members who couldn’t attend the function. In today’s day and age, the topic would be construed as “lacking sensitivity”. However, in the past, conversation was easy and direct. For the groom, you borrowed the English word, “personality”. You typically said, “The boy has an impressive personality” (“paiyyan…nalla ‘personality’ aa irukaan” in Tamil). And for the bride, the expression was- “impressive color” (“ponnu…nalla color”)!  

You didn’t have to cross-question, “Which color? Did you mean red or green or yellow?” Everyone understood. “Personality” and “color”, with their contextual meanings here, said it all…clearly and unambiguously!