On sher, shayari and poetry!

India has a rich poetic tradition. Each regional language is littered with poetic works. Of particular interest is the “sher” and “shayari” tradition in Hindi and Urdu. Bollywood cinema brought home the niceties of this genre through its landmark films.

In college, some had a natural gift of the gab. They were a never-ending storehouse of “sher” couplets. For every occasion, they had an apt quote that held the audience in a swoon. Commencing with the trademark “Doston! arz kiya hai”, they reeled out verse after verse. The meaning was beyond us.  It was the finesse that bowled us over. 

Appreciation for “sher” and “shayari” follows a pattern. The moment the poet enunciates the first line, the audience breaks into a spontaneous “wah-wah”! He repeats the line verbatim to encash more applause. Only when a fresh round of “kya baat hai!” goes around, does he progress to the next line.

You wondered if the audience was hypnotized to respond favorably or whether it was born out of understanding. That was always a grey area. In any event, you were better off giving the benefit of doubt to the poet. It’s like a joke you didn’t follow. You still joined the laughter chorus so as not to stick out like a sore thumb!

More than the words, it was the style of rendition that mesmerized the audience. Given the captivating voice of the speaker, he could infuse poetry into even inane words. Give him any simple sentence and he could turn it into poetry. Even an innocuous- “I ate idli and sambar for breakfast!” would sound poetic in his deep baritone.

The repetition created the aura. He would likely say, “I ate” and pause for effect, followed by “idli and sambar for breakfast”. Next, a change of the subject and the predicate. “For breakfast”, followed by silence and then the words, “I ate idli and sambar”. And finally, one more juggle of the same words. “Sambar and idli”, he would announce with elan, followed by the trailing words “ate I for breakfast!” The audience surrendered to him- like pliable clay, in the hands of an expert potter.

The poets of yesteryears had possibly too much free time on their hands.  They did not have to worry about paying the electricity bill or debug badly written software.  Or run from pillar to post because the internet connectivity went down!

They could wake up late in the morning, laze around, quaff some spirit, tuck “paan” to the side of the mouth and compose reams and reams of sublime poetry!

The TV and its many remotes!

In the times of yore, the TV was a simple gadget. You switched on the TV, and it sprang into action. No complications. When the second channel was introduced, the change was intuitive. You physically shifted the knob to move to the other channel.

Now, fast forward to the present times. You are at your relative’s home for a short holiday. Your relative is away for the afternoon. All you want to do is watch some TV. You pick up the TV remote and press the button. Nothing happens. The TV is as dead as dead can be! You punch a few buttons at random. Something happens. The TV glows- all grey with a waterfall noise to go with it. You hope it will morph into some colorful pictures. It stays stubborn and grey. The only control you have is two-fold: you can either switch the TV on and off. Or reduce the volume of the waterfall noise.

You vigorously tap the remote. Perhaps, the battery is worn out. You walk up close to the TV. You flash the remote at different angles. May be, the rays will bounce off the wall and breathe life into the TV. By now, you are at your wits end. There is irritation. There is anger. Above all, there is wounded pride. How can you not get a simple TV to work? After half hour of turning the TV on and off, you give up.

By now, your relative is back. She asks, “I thought you wanted to watch the Cricket match on TV?” How do you answer this question? You pick up the same remote. “It’s not that remote! It is the other one!” You feel like shouting, “Why did you hide the correct remote and send me on this wild goose chase?” A few clicks with the other remote and now, the TV is alive and kicking!

It is now the next afternoon. Your relative is again out. The Cricket match is still on. The only difference is-you now have 2 remotes in your hand. She did explain- some HDMI-1-2-3, but it was as clear as cow dung! A few clicks of the first remote and some of the other- you try it all. In your hands, the TV does one job consistently- it stays grey with the same waterfall soundtrack. An existential question comes up- why does a TV even need 2 remotes in the first place? To rub salt into the wounds, a probing question comes your way, "I thought you studied computer!"

One thing is for sure. Today’s TV will never be stolen. The thief has no hope in hell of getting it to work. Only the TV owner knows the magic words. At best, the thief can melt the gadget and sell it as scrap metal!

 

 

 

The donkey needs a patron!

The donkey has been the butt of jokes for far too long. Back in school, during the morning assembly, the PT sir held the microphone. He had to ensure that we stood in straight lines. With 500 boys running riot, it was impossible to know their names. He invariably shouted, “You donkey! Come here!”  No one wanted to respond to the instruction. If someone volunteered, PT sir got more irritated, “Not you! The other donkey!” It took a lot of false starts before the eventual donkey was found.

No animal looks cuter than a baby donkey. With its beady eyes and its fur like a Turkish Towel, it is cuddlier than a teddy bear. And when it comes to utility, you cannot beat the donkey. It gives all help to the washerman without a complaint that it is carrying dirty linen in public.

How can the donkey get a makeover from its perceived foolish status? In India’s vernacular languages, the owl is considered foolish. The owl has equal reason to feel miffed. In the case of the owl, the English came to the rescue with the idiom, “as wise as an owl”. Unfortunately, the donkey has no patrons.

The donkey’s eyes are most beautiful- shaped like an almond. It is customary to refer to a lady as “doe eyed”. No one knows what a doe is. At least, everyone has seen a donkey. This phrasal change can be made.

Any change will take time to sink in. Undoubtedly, there will be prickly situations. Romeo may get slapped because he called Juliet “donkey eyed”.

The donkey surely deserves better. Can we adopt the donkey as our national animal? The response will be, “Why change? We already have the tiger”. Let’s face it, when we think of a tiger, we are overcome with fear. But even mention of the word donkey, brings an irresistible giggle. In a world filled with strife and grief, an element of humor can be added by voting for the donkey. Also, one day, the tiger may become extinct.  But the world will always have donkeys.

The only problem I foresee is the confusion it will cause, especially for children. A common quiz question is “What is India’s national animal?” Invariably, some child will answer “tiger”. You will now have to step in, “Wrong answer! It used to be the tiger, but now, it is the donkey!”

There are other complications. A student may ask, “Madam! Can you repeat the question?” She may get angry and snap at the student, “Donkey! Why don’t you pay attention when I am talking?”

And now, all the students will pounce on the teacher, “Madam! You gave out the answer!”

The annual budget presentation!

In India, there is always the next big event. It could be the festival round the corner, the start of IPL or even the Annual Budget presentation.

You wait with bated breath. The media stokes your curiosity by maintaining a countdown to the D-day. The finance minister will arrive with a magic wand. One swish of the wand and your entire world is about to turn golden! Such is the anticipation!

In the days of yore, on the day of the budget, the finance minister strode with a briefcase! It was a mandatory accessory. You wondered how many sheafs of paper lay stuffed, and how long the reading will take.

Times have changed. It is a paperless world now. The briefcase is replaced with a sleek laptop. That apart, the tradition has stayed the same.

A unique aspect of the budget presentation is to make a sudden departure from the reading and drift off to a quotation from a vernacular text. It is like a dose of comic relief, in the middle of a suspense thriller!

As the reading continues, one side greets each sentence with a thumping of the desk! The elation on one side is met with heckling from another. The hecklers claim that the middle-class is taken care, but the farmers are left out. If the farmers’ concerns are addressed, the hecklers feel the salaried class is compromised.

Whatever stance you take, someone has an objection. It is like the Panchatantra story. The father and the son were walking with a donkey. A passerby commented, “Why are you walking with the donkey? Why don’t you put it to use?” It sounded like a good idea and the father rode the donkey. There was another comment now. “Look! The poor boy is walking, while the shameless father rides the donkey!” The point was taken, and the son rode the donkey. This time, the interjection was- “Why is this young fellow riding the donkey, while the aged father walks?” Now, the father and the son together rode the donkey. It brought the final comment, “Do both of you have no sympathy for the poor donkey?”

Much like this story, a perfect budget is an oxymoron.  “Vitandaa vaada” originated here. You will be faulted whatever position you take!

One side hails the budget as “balanced and historic”. The other side sums it up as “disappointing” and “moving coins from one pocket to another”! How can the same data be interpreted in opposite ways? Shouldn’t it be an exact science? Apparently not! It is like a glass of milk filled till the middle. It is entirely up to you- to look at it as a half-full or half-empty!

Moustache musings!

Men looked macho in a moustache. That was the theory. You could choose from a bewildering variety of moustaches. The “pencil moustache” was unique. It was thin and delicately outlined the contours of the upper lip! The “goatee” gave you an aristocratic feel- a ball of hair encircled your mouth! If you shaved off the moustache at the center and allowed the strands to hang off the sides, you looked like a Shaolin Warrior. Sometimes, the moustache ran riot!  It joined hands with the sideburns with no clear demarcation. The “handlebar moustache” was impressive. It had copious volume like luscious vegetation and ended in a curl. From time to time, you gave a twirl to the ends. With such a moustache, you could look at a lion in the face and watch it retreat with its tail between the legs!

The arrival of the clean-shaven “chocolate hero” changed the paradigm completely. The moustache’s utility was now in question- to be or not to be.

Maintaining a moustache requires enormous manicuring. Overgrown moustaches pose a problem. You can inadvertently chew off the ends along with your food! It takes patience to maintain perfect symmetry. Call it optical illusion, but one side always appears longer than the other. Some more trimming, and the other side is longer now. As you clip off more and more shrubbery, the moustache gets shorter and shorter, till you start resembling a certain Chaplin. That’s when the scissors are put down decisively.

As we age, the moustache ages with us. The black moustache sprouts an occasional white. Very soon, it is speckled with more white and less black! Now comes the big question- to dye the moustache jet-black or color it red, or leave it as is.

Faced with this existential crisis, you decide to use the biggest hammer- shave the moustache off altogether! Suddenly, you cannot recognize yourself in the mirror. Your wife and children scare you even more, “My God! What have you done to yourself?”

Embarrassment grabs you by the face. When you step out of home, it’s not the lack of the moustache, it’s as if you are without clothes!

You are now on the road, but no one gives you second look. At work, no one has even registered the change!  You realize that your appearance does not matter one bit.  Everyone is busy looking at himself, there is no time to look at another!

All said and done, the moustache serves a critical purpose. If there are identical twins, one good and another evil, one of them should have a moustache.  That way, the heroine will have no confusion and won’t end up chasing the wrong person!

Swallowing a tablet!

There are 2 schools of thought when it comes to swallowing a tablet. In the first approach, you place the tablet on the tongue, and gulp it down with water. This method seems most intuitive, however, there is one snag. There is a timespan between the tablet still on the tongue and yet to be gulped down. For some,  the 2 seconds of bitterness can be revolting. They protest, “I feel like vomiting now!” It is a perfect catch-22 situation- To stop their vomiting, they need the tablet. But the tablet is bitter and causes the vomit!

The second school says, “You sip water, hold it in your mouth, pop the tablet in and gulp it down! You won’t feel any bitterness!” This approach has its own pitfalls. When the mouth is puffed up with water, you need a juggler’s dexterity to open the mouth and pop in the pill!  It is complicated like opening opposite valves at the same time. The water successfully evades the food-pipe and goes down a different pipe! A paroxysm of coughing ensues.  The water along with the tablet is violently ejected out of the nose, mouth and all else. You are now back to square one!

Some folks claim they cannot swallow because of a physiological problem. You counter them, “What do you mean you cannot swallow? Just swallow!” “My food-pipe is as thin as a needle. I always powder the tablet and gulp it!”

We acknowledge some tablets have legitimate issues. They are so oversized that you wonder if they will go down all the way, or like the mythological character Trishanku, stay suspended somewhere midway!

For some ailments, the doctor prescribes a platter full of tablets. The ailment needs the antibiotic. The antibiotic causes an upset stomach. The stomach upset needs a second tablet. The second tablet plugs all apertures indefinitely, for which you need a third tablet! You are swallowing tablets through the day. The proverb, “one swallow does not make a summer” makes perfect sense!

Within the tablet family, is the odd man called “capsule”.  Styled like a rocket’s capsule, the plastic shell raises a question.  Today’s slogan is “say no to plastic”. What happens to this capsule? The last thing you want is for your insides to be a plastic junkyard, with mounds and mounds of capsule plastic, littered all over!

Why can’t we create a “tasty tablet”? We agree it is an oxymoron, but all bitter tablets can be sugar coated to make the “customer experience” mildly satisfying! Finally, we come to a tangential point. Why on earth are some computers called “tablets”? What does this tablet cure? Is it the disease of boredom?

Mobile restroom taxis!

We hear that a plan is afoot to have “mobile restroom taxis” in India! Our prayers have been finally answered. How often have we been right on the edge, and there is not one restroom in sight! The desperation cannot be described.

To have a fleet of vehicles running around the city, each housed with a restroom that you can order from your cellphone, is like manna from heaven! The idea is laudable, but the implementation can be complicated.

A metropolitan Indian city teems with millions. How many restroom vehicles should be on the road? You are stuck at The Gateway of India and want to use the restroom immediately. You book one of these mobile restrooms and find that your restroom is languishing at Dombivili and will take over an hour to reach! Time hangs like an eternity. The consequent helplessness can only be imagined!

At the other end of the spectrum is this scenario- you are tracking the taxi by the minute. It is almost there. At the nick of time, the driver cancels your request. Imagine the client’s agony- being so close and yet so far. It would leave him completely high and dry, rather low and wet, in this particular case!

Other challenges come to mind. You heave a sigh of relief and are about to step into the restroom. The taxi-driver suddenly says, “Sir, the OTP is not matching! You cannot use!” Truly, there can be many a slip between the cup and the lip!

Traffic rules must change. Restroom taxis must be fitted with sirens and given top priority, like the ambulance and the fire-engine! Rest-room taxis should have graded levels- a basic version with minimal fittings and a luxury version. There should also be an option- “Give me any version quickly! I am desperate!”

To be commercially viable, how much are we willing to pay? Should we have a bidding scheme based on the level of emergency so that the highest bidder gets the vehicle? There should also be a provision to schedule rest-room taxis in a recurring manner. That way, when we are on the move, the restroom availability can be synchronized with our body clock.

The taxi is waiting at the signal on the way to service a customer. Someone frantically knocks on the windows! He issues threats, “Allow me to use the restroom now, or watch what I do!” How does the driver respond to these panic attacks?

End of the day, these vehicles will make long distance travel comfortable. Especially for the aged, it ushers in a new era where they can move with total freedom! After all, the basic human need is “roti, kapda, makaan and a mobile restroom!”