On nails!

Traditional Indian homes have a problem with nails... cutting nails. There is never a right place or time or location for this job. There are elders specially designated, whose sole vocation in life, is to police nail-cutting at home.
"Why are you cutting your nail.. of all days... on a Tuesday? Couldn't you find a better day?"
If you postponed the activity to a different day, you still invited obtuse comments. "Cutting nails.... on a Friday!? Do I need to tell you every time that it is simply not done !? It is ashaucham (unclean) I say!!"
If you got the day right, you ran out of luck with the time of the day. "Why would you cut your nails now? You had the whole day in front of you! After sunset, it is forbidden to cut nails! Don't you know that? Couldn't you find at least some time... during the day!?"
As for the location, no place was good enough. The drawing room (living room) entertained guests who could pop in at any time. Hence, that room was out of bounds for this activity. The kitchen was out.. for obvious reasons. The balcony had other issues.. you don't want to spread your arms and legs to clip your nails and invite attention from the neighbouring flats. The little foyer leading to the balcony seemed an appropriate place... but you were castigated for that too... "Never sit between two rooms to do anything! You know what happened to Hiranyakashipu.. the rakshasa don't you? He had his entrails torn out by Lord Vishnu.... by placing him in the foyer...!!"

If you got everything right and did manage to clip nails, then an errant nail strayed away from the cutting scene and got you into trouble! "Learn to keep a well spread newspaper below...so that nails don't fly away in all directions! You do know.. that Goddess Lakshmi.. never stays in the house where nails are carelessly strewn around.... don't you!!? There is even a shloka which says that if Lord Vishnu had such unclean habits... Goddess Lakshmi will divorce him too!!. Let me recall that shloka... It says......" It is prudent to slink away from the scene at these times.

We often wonder how Lord Vishnu clipped his nails... or perhaps, considering the hazards, he actually didn't! Possibly, that was the reason.. he could emerge from the pillar with... nails like a lion... to finish off Hiranyakashipu. The only other occasion where nails played a prominent role.. was the Afzal Khan-Shivaji duel... where Shivaji with his bare hands.. and tiger nails... clawed his way into Afzal Khan's stomach.

Nail cutters are docile instruments. Some of them resemble a butter knife at best... and just don't have the necessary teeth to clip nails... especially if it is a recalcitrant toe-nail. If you applied more pressure than necessary, the whole apparatus dismantled to pieces.. and the entire activity had to be abandoned! Of course, you had to wait for the all the planets to align again in terms of day, time and location... to start nail cutting all over again.. this time.. with a fresh instrument!

Sometimes, it seemed easy to pare nails of one hand with the other. The hands are after all far more dexterous than any nail cutter. The only downside to this technique was that.. after getting a few fingers right, you invariably ran into trouble with the last finger. In your impatience to peal the nail off... you often pealed it so deep that... along with the nail... it tore off a bit of skin! Ouch! For the rest of the day, you howled in pain....with the finger now wrapped with a kerchief...blotted with a dash of blood. For sure, you invited incisive comments from nail-cutting policemen at home.. which didn't exactly lift your already pained spirits!

Nail biting needs to be encouraged. It is simplest and most effective way of clipping nails. Of course, clipping toe nails wouldn't be easy... but you can always try... with the foot in your mouth!
India-Pakistan Cricket matches in the 80s created a whole generation of  nail biters! Many a Cricket fan lost his nails and sometimes even the fingers.. as he sat at the edge of his seat the entire day to watch some nail biting finishes....... only for Javed Miandad to spoil the party with a last-ball six! It was terribly agonising!
But you can always spot a nail-biter.... his nail stands out like a sore thumb! For one, the nail would be stubby and short..... the tip of the finger swollen..and completely encircling the nail..giving it the appearance of a shapeless, sunken crater. The finger exuded an odour of its own.. which made shaking hands with this species not the pleasantest of activities!
The nail biter has his own problems... having bitten the nail off... he often looks around for the most expedient method to dispose off  the sliver. He would either have to gulp it.. or spit it off surreptitiously, both equally complicated.

If nail biters are an eyesore, women with long nails pose a different problem. Regardless of how well manicured and long and shapely their nails are, a peculiar thought pattern holds us hostage. We imagine how this lady would write on the black board...and in the process, inadvertently scratch the board with her long nails....right from one end of the black board to the other.. and again from top to bottom. That singular thought is enough. It sends shivers down our spine and we are seized with a feeling of extreme disgust and revulsion.

That surely is the final nail on the coffin.... as far as this article on nails and nail biters...goes!















 

Welcome to the Shree---Renga--Natha--Swamy--Temple!

11:00 am.... the sun was beating down mercilessly as we stepped out of the car- the gopuram of the Ranganathaswamy Temple in the distance. It was a little walk to the temple and a motley mix of sights greeted us- a Cricket match was underway on one side, complete with Kannada audio commentary and a makeshift pavilion, a couple of horses lazed around waiting for the next customer to take a joyride... and a row of shanty shops lined the road on both sides, selling trinkets of every kind.
I was brusquely interrupted by someone who held out...what looked like a business card. Our first response to any intrusion is one of resistance- "No! no! I don't need anything!" I shouted and walked away to join my family a little distance away.
"I am a tourist guide, recognised by the Govt!" he announced. His card had a list of places with an amount penned against each item. "These are for the foreign tourist. I can do it cheaper for you!" I brushed him aside.....but after a little discussion, we somehow decided to engage his services, just to make the temple visit a little more interesting. Interesting.. it was!

As we walked with our guide and headed towards the gopuram, he began.... articulating each word with inordinate care. "This is...." and paused a bit and continued.... "the shree".. and waited. As we met his face with bated breath....he slowly pronounced.. "renga" another delicate pause.... followed by the word "natha". Uncomfortable silence reined once more...while he slowly intoned "swamy"... and finally trailed off with the word "temple"! It took us a while to string all these words together to form the full sentence.... "This is the shree Ranganatha swamy Temple".  Speaking with the same clarity, he began his second sentence. "The name of town is" and paused. "Shree..." long pause.. "renga".. pause.. and mercifully ended with "patna".
By the time he had completed these two sentences, we had deposited all our footwear, scolded the children for touching the underside of the chappal, collected the token, gone past the gopuram and now stood inside the premises. "Please come to this side... madam, come this way...Saar, you also!" he gestured, while a whole lot of devotees gaped at us with curiosity.

Standing beside an ancient well in the temple compound, he seemed visibly pleased with all the attention that we gave him. He delicately touched his thumb with his forefinger in a "chin mudra", as if explaining an intricate point and continued his discourse.... "This is"...and even as we glanced at each other in horror, continued in the same leisurely pace.. "the shree" and once more "renga"... "natha"... "swamy"... "temple"! "The name of town ij"... and this time, we could fill in the words for him.. "shree".. "renga"... "patna".. which pleased him to no end!

You've just driven for over 3 hours....the glare of the dazzling midday sun compels you to squint your eyes, knit your brow and gives you a throbbing headache, you shuffle your feet so that the granite floor virtually on fire, doesn't drill holes into your sole... disgruntled children hang around you with vengeance in their eyes.... for having spoilt their holiday with a trip to a temple.... the last thing you want is a sermon...pronounced at a pace.. which would have made Geoff  Boycott look like a T-20 specialist!! To top it, the repetition was killing! We silently wondered if there was any exit strategy at all... or would we all simply age...beaten down by time and boredom...by the time our guide finished his spiel!!?

We decided to be pro-active and thought an "interactive session" may just save our day. "When was this temple built? Is it very old? Who built this temple?" we asked randomly. It helped! "Tirumala Raya of the Ganga dynasty built this temple 1200 years ago," he said in one flow. While we frantically searched for the next set of questions, the guide fell back to his didactic ways.. "You see there"....and  pointed to the sculptures ahead... "Those are the 10 incarnations"... "of Lord".... "Vishnu". "Matsya".... "Kurma".... "Varaha".... he enunciated... while our minds had switched off. I had half a mind to cut him short, "Dude! Do we look like Martians to you? We are not even NRIs. We've read our Amar Chitra Kathas since we were this small..from cover to cover.. and even backwards! How dare you insult our basic intelligence by starting from the alphabet!?"

But ours is not to question why... ours is but to do and die!
His speech soon gathered speed and content. It was difficult to make much headway through his thick accent. We picked up bits and pieces. He threw in "Krishna Deva Raya" and "Duke of Wellington" in the same sentence... and brought in "Tipu Sultan" and "Hyder Ali" too. Evidently, they all had some role to play with the town and the temple. From History, he drifted off to Religion and explained... "GOD is Generator-Operator-Destroyer.. G-O-D".. pleased as punch with his explanation of the acronymn... and how Vishnu, the "Operator" resided in this temple. Stopping by the sannidhi of Garuda, he proclaimed dramatically..."This is Eagle, Lord Vishnu's car!" It felt awkward to be in file with other devotees who received the traditional "teertham" from the priest and have us singled out for this special explanation!

Soon, we joined the queue to the sanctum. People waited patiently. The guide prodded us to break the single file, create a parallel path and surge ahead in the line. We felt delicate to try such antics. "Saar, don't worry! This is India... Indian style..! No US style here!" Before we could protest that we were Indian.. but could still afford to follow basic rules, he had uprooted an entire side of the railing... and asked us to step aside. Clueless, we followed him. We went through a maze of corridors... at the end of which...he wanted us to jump fence once more and join the crowd just before the sanctum entrance. It was terribly embarrassing to avoid eyes which looked at us with obvious contempt. "It's ok! It's ok saar!" the guide egged us sheepishly.
We were caught on the horns of a dilemma. There was no way to backtrack. Had someone in the crowd picked up a quarrel for breaking the line, we would have had no argument in our favour. It didn't also look as if the guide would come to our defence either.. as he receded to the background. We took a spot decision...threw caution and self-respect to the winds.. and muscled our way through... and joined the frenetic chorus of "Govinda.. Go.....vinda!!"

Lord Vishnu..as Ranganatha... in all his glory... rested on Adi Sesha. The place, the precincts of the temple, the irritation, the queue offenders that we were.. and even the guide...everything was forgotten.. though.. for a split second.
"Come this way and look at His feet. There you see Goddess Cauvery....!" the guide's  words jolted us...out of our reverie.

It was fine, the purpose of the visit had been served.

Soon, we stood once more in the temple compound on our way out. "I hope you liked it" the guide enquired politely. "If you plan to go to the Nimishamba Temple and club it with Tipu's Palace and Gol-Gumbaz, let me know. I will come with you... and give you a good price for the entire package! For foreign tourists.. I normally charge...." We politely declined the offer.

"Please don't tell people to cut the line from the next time. It is not right. We would have earned more punya had we stood in the queue!" I tried to clear my conscience.
"Saar! Saar! What saar!? This is India saar! Indian style only here! No US....."
It was simply impossible.

Our spot decision, despite the reluctance, made us party to the crime. It looked as if "Indian style" meant following rules...... essentially rules of convenience! It would provide a fitting explanation for the ugly "spot fixing and betting" saga which unfolded later that week. We are like that only!

You must visit the Ranganathaswamy Temple. You must engage the services of our guide. You must repeat as we do-  everyday.... with our fingers joined in a "chin-mudra":

"Welcome to the shree-----renga-----natha-----swamy-----temple!"
"The name of town ij-----shree----renga-----patna!!"










 

Elephants at the water-hole: Painting in watercolour

Another experiment in watercolours done over the weekend. The theme is adapted from a photograph on the net.

Elephant in jungle- watercolor painting

Simple work in watercolors completed last week. The idea is adapted from a photograph which I found on the net.

"Lift" your spirits and "elevate" your thoughts!

There is something about a lift ("elevator" for the American reader) which cuts the most gregarious of individuals to size. The moment he enters the lift, he is suddenly tongue tied and a caricature of his former chirpy self. Like the rest of the bovine individuals in the lift, he stands transfixed, his eyes downcast, his head hung low and his arms limply clasped at the waist. It's almost as if everyone in the lift is attending some funeral service- gone is the mirth and merriment. Conversation even between chums comes to a grinding halt- they stand like dummies, as if unrelated to each other and to humanity at large! The silence hangs uncomfortably as the floors go by and you heave a sigh of relief as you get out of the lift into environs... hopefully more sunny!!

Occasionally, you are joined in the lift by someone who is still busy on his cell phone. Though it always picks your curiosity to overhear someone else's cell phone conversation, it is rarely juicy- at least what's discussed  in the confines of the lift. You are suddenly assailed with names and relationships- "bunty", "pinky", "daadu" and "chaachu" which make absolutely no sense to you. You wish this cross talk would end...... and it thankfully does. The cell phone signal strength drops and it finally loses breath and our speaker is struck with a sudden panic attack. The lift reverberates with frantic shouts of "hello", "hello", "can you hear me?"...and "mausiji", "mausiji!!" in increasing decibel levels till he finally gives up. He ruefully comments on "airtel" or some other service provider for the lousy service and spends the rest of the time in the lift fiddling with his cell-phone to initiate the conversation once more. But then, he forgets... the lift permits no conversation. The funereal atmosphere returns and rightfully so.

The dog is man's most faithful friend. He might be the owner's best friend all right, but the canine breed simply doesn't inspire the same bonhomie in the rest of us. We have a morbid fear of dogs and detest their proximity. The feeling is mutual and the dog views us with equal suspicion and unfriendliness. When ties are so openly strained, sharing the lift space with a dog and its even more intimidating owner....is verily an interminable ride through hell! The dog seems to single you out for its special attention - it hovers around your ankles, sniffs and licks your toes. You try hard not to make eye contact with him... even as he looks at you..unfazed.. straight in the eye. You hold your breath, clench your teeth in fear (which the dog unfortunately interprets as an open act of aggression), repent for your sins, say your last silent prayer.....and hope.. hope that this nightmare will come to a close,  but the lift ride ain't ending any time soon!

The lift is not without its comic moments. As the door is about to shut, there is always that last person outside who chooses to stick some protruding part of his anatomy or an  appendage like a briefcase and hopes that the door will open to let him in. I actually accosted one bloke who stuck his foot in... on what he would have done had the lift door jammed his foot. "Dude! Had the door shut on my foot, I would have simply let go of my shoe!" was his prompt reply.
Then, there are others who cannot find room in the current lift. They don't have the patience to wait for the next one too. Invariably, they press the button too soon. The lift door elaborately opens...with a flourish... and reveals the same occupants who are still held hostage!

Kids will be kids... they press every floor button inside the lift and eject out of it... leaving the rest of the occupants high and dry. We now have a passenger train which huffs and puffs and halts at every wayside station leaving our patience running really thin. Like the old grandma's tale which says that a "pencil eraser can be made with a mixture of pencil shavings soaked in milk", there is a theory that every lift is equipped with that magic button which will transform this passenger train into a veritable TGV express, which will go in one sweep from the top floor to the bottom without stopping on any floor. There have been many who have tried this option....with little success. Worse, in their exuberance, they accidentally moved their finger to a floor button which was left unselected by the kid, which will now register this fellow's signature!!

I agree that it is terribly confusing.. As you wait for the lift, you have 2 buttons- to go up or down. You are standing on the lowest floor and need to go to the top floor. The visual display shows that the lift is on one of the top floors. "Which button should you press?"... is a perennial riddle. If you press the button to "go up", someone comments, "Dude! The lift is already at the top. You need to bring it down. Press the 'go down' button!" If you press the "go down" button, there is an opposite irritated reaction - "Saar! You need to go up. Why would you press the 'down' button? It will now go to the basement parking lot!"

Some lifts in Chennai are equipped with a double grilled door. The moment you get inside the lift, you need to close both the doors (without jamming your fingers), for the lift to spring to action. An audio prompt is intended to educate us. It screams, "Daivu seidu kadavai moodavum. Please close the door... daivu seidu kadavai moodavum... please close the door!" Chennai and its weather can challenge the most sturdy. A lift with a double door and a relentless audio prompt takes the challenge to a different level. The voice somehow provokes you... especially when you have registered the request and are taking pains to attend to it. Like Arjuna angrily lashed out at the "ashariri-vaak" (divine voice) in that famous Yaksha Prashna episode of the Mahabharata, you have half a mind to punch the person with that voice... right in the solar plexus.
But..like the Yaksha, the voice taunts you even more.. "daivu seidu.... Please close the door!... Please close the door!"
In exasperation, you give up and shout.... "If YOU shut up, I will definitely shut the door.. and I will do it faster!!!"


 

Another pencil work....

 Tried to capture in pencil... one of Ramana Maharishi's most appealing pictures.

Water-colour portrait of Ramana Maharishi

Another one in this series of portraits on Bhagawan Ramana Maharishi. I have attempted this in water colour. It is for the reader to comment on the resemblance. However, compared to the other photographs of Ramana Maharishi, this one appears to have been taken when he was a little younger. He does not appear as frail as in the other references that I have used in my previous works. Also, unlike his more famous photographs, he has just a little stubble in this one, instead of the little white beard that we are typically used to!
Bhagawan's eyes are the most beautiful. There is a distant, yet compassionate feeling in them. Mine is but a feeble attempt to capture his expression!
His face is like the description of the Supreme in the Upanishads.. "na chakshushaa gruhyatey... naapi vaacha"- It is impossible to "see" the Supreme with these eyes, neither is it possible to describe "It" in words...! How true!