I make up and down trips in the Airport Metro on almost every working day. After the Aero-City station, the train suddenly enter the elevated section of the railway, I raise my chin from the pages of India Today / The week in expectation of something new in the opened up horizon. Each time I observe something new on either side of the rail-way. It is like a panoramic canvas with myriad colours changing images every day. sometimes it is a parade of puffy capped soldiers,(the area being the Cantonment) in the lawns of one of the Defence buildings, or herds of village women squatting in circles preparing dung cakes in the open grounds, green spinaches and blossoming Mushrooms, gazing buffaloes, besides the ever flowing fleets of swanky cars, smart red and green DTC buses on either side of the metro; all add to the canvas every day. The beauty of the canvas is eye catching when the train pass through the ridge where the leafy tree tops along the ridge looks like flowing mounds of green clouds. Lucky if you find a monkey family feeding on a shoot of the tree on a sunny day. New Delhi is celebrating its centenary, I am entering my forty second year of Delhi life and am very fortunate to be alive to see the changing colours of this Cosmopolis. Malls apart, noticeable advancement is its transportation systems. There were times when I had to wait for hours to board a DTC bus with passengers flocking inside, roof top, and clinging on all protruding parts of the dull and poorly maintained DTC. The plight of the ever-crowded bus reminded of a monster eating sacks from the rear and vomiting the same from the front, each time it stops. That was it. Many Delhi Babus have struggled their ways making it to the North Block, Patel Chowk, CP , Daryaganj, Okhla etc..etc.. when there was no AC bus, No Metro rail, leave alone Airport Metro. Few of my contemporary Babus retired to rest after a long spell of wrestling and yelling in the Delhi roads to catch a DTC in order to reach places. All things are bygones. Now, Delhi’s roads carry smart Air conditioned buses with obliging drivers and conductors. Not to mention the praise worthy Metro. A sad news the man who changed the face of Delhi is retiring to his humble hamlet in Kerala. No one, it seems, has suggested a ‘Bharat Ratna’ though all cry for the same for Sachin and Bachan OR even Ishwarya’s new born unseen daughter are hot in the air.
This week end we are proceeding to Kerala. This Christmas will be in Kerala. Will have lots of Starry trees next time.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Chirikkatha Malayalee
Watching the in-house audience of Malayalam reality shows I sometimes wonder, why are they there? Majority of them are motionless and still with a blank look, as if they are attending a holy mass in some alien language. I sincerely feel the TV men should outsource viewers from Chennai OR Mumbai, but no Malayalees, please!
You know, we Malayalees seriously think there is a tax if we are loud. You can watch a Malayalam TV program where audience sitting numb over the VJ or a celebrity on stage deliver a word or two in a lighter tone. You know we Malayalees find something wrong in every thing. That is why we blog, tweet and hate Ranjitha Haridas’ Manglish. We Malayalees can not stand another Malayalee speaking Queens toungue, OR atleast we think, can’t Ranjitha pronounce the way we Malayalees speak, why imitate the Queen. Rubbish. You know, Deedi, I mean usha Uthup, literally inflame the audience of Kolkotta and \
umbai, but you know her efforts to induce the Malayalee audience miserably failed her.
A few decade back Comedian Mehmood depicted the face of an average malayalee. His mimic of a Malayalee resembled someone after biting ‘khatta imli” Nammude Valan puliye… That was not the television era, so it was a clip in the “Illustrated Weekly of India”. A hurt Malayalee, I could not control my anger on Mehmood on that. I do not know when and what incident provoked Mehmood to create such a mime. But I knew in my heart of heart, and have personal experience too that Malayalees at random see it as a risk to smile at an acquaintance for some fear.
On a recent visit to Kerala, I happened to pass through a house of one of my childhood friend, a classmate for decade. He (not smiling) stayed put in his Muttam and chatted,— Enna Undu Vishesham, Enna Vanne, Enna Pokunne, blah! blah! over ! — with me from his court yard, but there was no gesture to invite me home. On the other hand, whenever, even an acquaintance visit Delhi, I have not hesitated to receive them and be a reasonable host.
An old friend of mine carry Mehmood’s mime face, that of a imli eating Malayalee. He is a miser at home, not only for money but for smile too. He strongly believed, his friendly deal with his only son would spoil the child. It was so! The boy longed for love, care and understating from his father, but it was not so. He lost his only child. How? What happened? It’s OK, it’s a tragedy.
You know, we Malayalees seriously think there is a tax if we are loud. You can watch a Malayalam TV program where audience sitting numb over the VJ or a celebrity on stage deliver a word or two in a lighter tone. You know we Malayalees find something wrong in every thing. That is why we blog, tweet and hate Ranjitha Haridas’ Manglish. We Malayalees can not stand another Malayalee speaking Queens toungue, OR atleast we think, can’t Ranjitha pronounce the way we Malayalees speak, why imitate the Queen. Rubbish. You know, Deedi, I mean usha Uthup, literally inflame the audience of Kolkotta and \
umbai, but you know her efforts to induce the Malayalee audience miserably failed her.
A few decade back Comedian Mehmood depicted the face of an average malayalee. His mimic of a Malayalee resembled someone after biting ‘khatta imli” Nammude Valan puliye… That was not the television era, so it was a clip in the “Illustrated Weekly of India”. A hurt Malayalee, I could not control my anger on Mehmood on that. I do not know when and what incident provoked Mehmood to create such a mime. But I knew in my heart of heart, and have personal experience too that Malayalees at random see it as a risk to smile at an acquaintance for some fear.
On a recent visit to Kerala, I happened to pass through a house of one of my childhood friend, a classmate for decade. He (not smiling) stayed put in his Muttam and chatted,— Enna Undu Vishesham, Enna Vanne, Enna Pokunne, blah! blah! over ! — with me from his court yard, but there was no gesture to invite me home. On the other hand, whenever, even an acquaintance visit Delhi, I have not hesitated to receive them and be a reasonable host.
An old friend of mine carry Mehmood’s mime face, that of a imli eating Malayalee. He is a miser at home, not only for money but for smile too. He strongly believed, his friendly deal with his only son would spoil the child. It was so! The boy longed for love, care and understating from his father, but it was not so. He lost his only child. How? What happened? It’s OK, it’s a tragedy.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Oru Swapna Veedu
You may think why I blog on such irrelevant subjects which has very little relevance whatsoever. But my dear, this has my own aspirations and desires fulfilled and unfulfilled, so let it be there.
In the beginning there was One Madrasi, One Madrasi brought another one, then another one, then a generation, generations and now stands at the gene of Mallu which is a beautification of Malayalee derived from the species of Madrasi. Ooomph! Let me take a glass of water.
Earlier the Malayalee life existed from One Onam to the next Onam. OR you can put it this way, one Nattilpokku to the next. Good number of men, married and unmarried, lived ‘ bachelors’ in rented ‘rooms’ those days, wife and kids back in Kerala. Mobile phone, not yet born STD calls very costly, the only link with the dear and near ones was the blue coloured ‘inland letter’ weekly update.
I am talking about the period before the emergence of the term ‘Mallu’. In fact, ‘Madrasi” was the term Vadakkans in Delhi used to refer to us—Malayalees. Malayalee men who could not make it to Air Force, Army and CRP in that order were flowing to Delhi for a living. They had already made their presence felt in the Jute Mills of Calcutta, The Cloth Mills of Bombay and the Auto Industry in Chennai. Women from Kerala, spread to the North and everywhere in the Health Sector. Catholic Priests and Nuns were already there with their education and health care mission.
A house made of dream
Bhaskaran Master landed in Delhi in the sixties. A under literate, Bhaskaran left Payyannur, with the sole purpose of having three full meals for himself and Vayaru Niray Bhakshnam for folks back home, then the ‘God’s most neglected country’.
Bhaskaran could find a job in a “Kerala Hotel”. A Dhaba owned and operated by another Malayalee, who put his foot at the Paharganj Side a decade or two ago. “Kerala Hotel”. was situated near the then ‘Hindustan Times Block” in the outer circle (opposite Statesman). This ensured Bhaskaran three full meals a day for a dawn to dusk job. Bhaskaran’s job in the “Hotel” and his hunt for better pastures continued side by side.
Through a regular Dosa Sambar customer, Bhaskaran got a ‘decent’ job in a Multinational company near CP. A peon in a Multinational was a lucrative job those days. Good salary and bonus, Bhaskaran used to earn over- time and conveyance as extra income from the job.
Soon, Bhaskaran bought a Bicycle and took a room on rent in Lakshmi Nagar for residence. The Cycle remain with Bhaskaran throughout his Jeevitha Yathra. There was a story going around those days about one of Bhaskaran’s adventures.
Oru Avadhikku Nattil pokan,
Bhaskaran could not get a birth in any of the south bound trains. He packed his ‘Petty’ with necessary items and bound it on the carrier behind the Bicycle, and pedalled the three thousand miles (5000 kms) through the Chambal kadukalum, Vidhya Malakalum, Kadum, Nadikalum, Kattu jevevikalum. On the28th day he reached Payyannur. By then his PL got over. The next day morning he along with his cycle boarded a train from Kerala and landed back in Delhi.
Edakkalathu Enno
Bhaskaran got married. He had four kids during his journey, all girls.
Bhaskaran’s acutely needed more space to live in. He dreamed of having a house, that would be his own, his Swapna Veedu.. Bhaskaran, managed a 100 yard plot in Lakshmi Nagar, then a catchment of Yamuna, and started his house building. He constructed a single room and kitchen, then another room and a floor above were added one by one. He built his Swapna Veedu – Dream House brick by brick. Much of the house building work was Bhaskaran’s on. He seldom depended on an outsider for white washing and painting his house. All he did himself. He loved his house as one of his daughters.
He saved on his meals and clothes. (Bhaskaran was never shy in his outfit the ‘Official Khaki’ that was the identity of a peon those days). Khaki clad Bhaskaran, his bi-cycle and the house became one in as much that each one existed for the other.
Before coming to conclude Bhaskaran saga, let me peep through another old timer Malayalee’s life.
Devassy disembarked GT Express at the Paharganj side . He was a Matriculate with a “Type and Short hand” Upper Certificate(Then Type writing/short hand was a highly sought after technical qualification with Lower level and Upper level exams conducted by state authorities for a certificate). “HR” was not a familiar term those days. Various Company agents waited at the Railways station to tap the qualified, English Speaking “Madrasis” for the ‘Steno’s job. By one of such act, Deveassy could also place himself behind a “Halda” type writer in one of the many large “holes’ in CP. Devassy later on underwent a UPSC test and got a job in the North Block and become a Central Govt employee. A “Steno Typist” to be precise.
A year after, when Devassy visited village with a new status- a “Kendra Sarkar jolikkaran”- a very valued profile. His marriage happened in the village with a reasonable(?) and attractive ‘Sthree dhanam”. Devassy’s Father was kind enough to allow Devassy to utilize his dowry for a cause. So he bought a piece of land in the Western side of Delhi for 5000 rupees. Devassy took a loan and added to all his savings, started building a house. He could then move out of his Sarojini nagar sub-let one room-accommodation to the West Delhi pocket. Devassy built a reasonably big house. Years passed by and his family grew bigger by the size. He was an ardent believer, so, in spite of scarce DTC service, and the nearby Church being the Sacred Heart Cathedral, Devassy seldom commit a deadly sin missing Sunday Mass, without sufficient reason. Though very often, he failed take Thresia, his wife and children for their inability to get ready on time.
Much water has passed through Yamuna. Devassy retired and become a full time evangelist and presented himself for the Charismatic works of the Church. His children also grew up and settled in life.
A few years back Bhaskaran died. He had married off all his four daughters. They all were settled separately. its heard from a reliable source that Bhaskaran’s daughters unitedly deciced to sell off Bhaskaran’s Swapna veedu and divided the booty amongst them.
In the case of Devassy, he can not walk without the help of a stick now. His vision poor, his church activities also become difficult these days. In fact Devassy is now living with one of his children.
His children are finding the old house of no much use.
Swapna Veedu polum thakarnnu veezhan oru jeevitha kalam mathi !
In the beginning there was One Madrasi, One Madrasi brought another one, then another one, then a generation, generations and now stands at the gene of Mallu which is a beautification of Malayalee derived from the species of Madrasi. Ooomph! Let me take a glass of water.
Earlier the Malayalee life existed from One Onam to the next Onam. OR you can put it this way, one Nattilpokku to the next. Good number of men, married and unmarried, lived ‘ bachelors’ in rented ‘rooms’ those days, wife and kids back in Kerala. Mobile phone, not yet born STD calls very costly, the only link with the dear and near ones was the blue coloured ‘inland letter’ weekly update.
I am talking about the period before the emergence of the term ‘Mallu’. In fact, ‘Madrasi” was the term Vadakkans in Delhi used to refer to us—Malayalees. Malayalee men who could not make it to Air Force, Army and CRP in that order were flowing to Delhi for a living. They had already made their presence felt in the Jute Mills of Calcutta, The Cloth Mills of Bombay and the Auto Industry in Chennai. Women from Kerala, spread to the North and everywhere in the Health Sector. Catholic Priests and Nuns were already there with their education and health care mission.
A house made of dream
Bhaskaran Master landed in Delhi in the sixties. A under literate, Bhaskaran left Payyannur, with the sole purpose of having three full meals for himself and Vayaru Niray Bhakshnam for folks back home, then the ‘God’s most neglected country’.
Bhaskaran could find a job in a “Kerala Hotel”. A Dhaba owned and operated by another Malayalee, who put his foot at the Paharganj Side a decade or two ago. “Kerala Hotel”. was situated near the then ‘Hindustan Times Block” in the outer circle (opposite Statesman). This ensured Bhaskaran three full meals a day for a dawn to dusk job. Bhaskaran’s job in the “Hotel” and his hunt for better pastures continued side by side.
Through a regular Dosa Sambar customer, Bhaskaran got a ‘decent’ job in a Multinational company near CP. A peon in a Multinational was a lucrative job those days. Good salary and bonus, Bhaskaran used to earn over- time and conveyance as extra income from the job.
Soon, Bhaskaran bought a Bicycle and took a room on rent in Lakshmi Nagar for residence. The Cycle remain with Bhaskaran throughout his Jeevitha Yathra. There was a story going around those days about one of Bhaskaran’s adventures.
Oru Avadhikku Nattil pokan,
Bhaskaran could not get a birth in any of the south bound trains. He packed his ‘Petty’ with necessary items and bound it on the carrier behind the Bicycle, and pedalled the three thousand miles (5000 kms) through the Chambal kadukalum, Vidhya Malakalum, Kadum, Nadikalum, Kattu jevevikalum. On the28th day he reached Payyannur. By then his PL got over. The next day morning he along with his cycle boarded a train from Kerala and landed back in Delhi.
Edakkalathu Enno
Bhaskaran got married. He had four kids during his journey, all girls.
Bhaskaran’s acutely needed more space to live in. He dreamed of having a house, that would be his own, his Swapna Veedu.. Bhaskaran, managed a 100 yard plot in Lakshmi Nagar, then a catchment of Yamuna, and started his house building. He constructed a single room and kitchen, then another room and a floor above were added one by one. He built his Swapna Veedu – Dream House brick by brick. Much of the house building work was Bhaskaran’s on. He seldom depended on an outsider for white washing and painting his house. All he did himself. He loved his house as one of his daughters.
He saved on his meals and clothes. (Bhaskaran was never shy in his outfit the ‘Official Khaki’ that was the identity of a peon those days). Khaki clad Bhaskaran, his bi-cycle and the house became one in as much that each one existed for the other.
Before coming to conclude Bhaskaran saga, let me peep through another old timer Malayalee’s life.
Devassy disembarked GT Express at the Paharganj side . He was a Matriculate with a “Type and Short hand” Upper Certificate(Then Type writing/short hand was a highly sought after technical qualification with Lower level and Upper level exams conducted by state authorities for a certificate). “HR” was not a familiar term those days. Various Company agents waited at the Railways station to tap the qualified, English Speaking “Madrasis” for the ‘Steno’s job. By one of such act, Deveassy could also place himself behind a “Halda” type writer in one of the many large “holes’ in CP. Devassy later on underwent a UPSC test and got a job in the North Block and become a Central Govt employee. A “Steno Typist” to be precise.
A year after, when Devassy visited village with a new status- a “Kendra Sarkar jolikkaran”- a very valued profile. His marriage happened in the village with a reasonable(?) and attractive ‘Sthree dhanam”. Devassy’s Father was kind enough to allow Devassy to utilize his dowry for a cause. So he bought a piece of land in the Western side of Delhi for 5000 rupees. Devassy took a loan and added to all his savings, started building a house. He could then move out of his Sarojini nagar sub-let one room-accommodation to the West Delhi pocket. Devassy built a reasonably big house. Years passed by and his family grew bigger by the size. He was an ardent believer, so, in spite of scarce DTC service, and the nearby Church being the Sacred Heart Cathedral, Devassy seldom commit a deadly sin missing Sunday Mass, without sufficient reason. Though very often, he failed take Thresia, his wife and children for their inability to get ready on time.
Much water has passed through Yamuna. Devassy retired and become a full time evangelist and presented himself for the Charismatic works of the Church. His children also grew up and settled in life.
A few years back Bhaskaran died. He had married off all his four daughters. They all were settled separately. its heard from a reliable source that Bhaskaran’s daughters unitedly deciced to sell off Bhaskaran’s Swapna veedu and divided the booty amongst them.
In the case of Devassy, he can not walk without the help of a stick now. His vision poor, his church activities also become difficult these days. In fact Devassy is now living with one of his children.
His children are finding the old house of no much use.
Swapna Veedu polum thakarnnu veezhan oru jeevitha kalam mathi !
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Change -Imminent
Change - imminent
It was a decision, made for better, so do I believe. The decision was painful. Almost a decade and a half we spent in the 900 sq ft area. Baby spent 24 x 7, loved it like a baby ,until Chakku’s arrival, which made all the difference. More so it was our own house, we named it our permanent home. Namely 406. I attach my savings from TATA to this house.
Baby, not at all game for a change, ultimately proposed the change, for her priority has changed to Chakku and the house, which she nurtured like her third daughter, flipped past.
We had no other alternative. It was impossible to adjust all in the 900 ft area. It was also unthinkable to leave Chakku in the care of Shanti. So for the better. Chakku will have a better environment. We all will have power cut free nights.
Change is obvious. Be it residence, attitude, approach. Progress comes through changes only.
So for my daughters, Papa makes hasty decisions, but many a times, it turns out OK. Isn’t it?
It was a decision, made for better, so do I believe. The decision was painful. Almost a decade and a half we spent in the 900 sq ft area. Baby spent 24 x 7, loved it like a baby ,until Chakku’s arrival, which made all the difference. More so it was our own house, we named it our permanent home. Namely 406. I attach my savings from TATA to this house.
Baby, not at all game for a change, ultimately proposed the change, for her priority has changed to Chakku and the house, which she nurtured like her third daughter, flipped past.
We had no other alternative. It was impossible to adjust all in the 900 ft area. It was also unthinkable to leave Chakku in the care of Shanti. So for the better. Chakku will have a better environment. We all will have power cut free nights.
Change is obvious. Be it residence, attitude, approach. Progress comes through changes only.
So for my daughters, Papa makes hasty decisions, but many a times, it turns out OK. Isn’t it?
Friday, July 8, 2011
Lost connections
I remember the day thru my Pre-degree in KE College.
We sat for lunch in the large lunch hall behind the main college building, near the loo. The hall with aroma of different variants of food packed in banana leaves and aluminiun vessels, filled the air.
Time One O clock. Stomach burning with hunger. I too opened my banana leaf roll. It opened up to white boiled rice with a spoonful of red chilli chutney. That was all I had.
My friend, Vijayan opened his lunch box which had a coconut chutney & fish peera. I could not stand the smell. I asked for a little portion of his fish peera. He was hesitant, not because he has problem in sharing, but because, he belonged to the Velan caste (DrKRN was born in that caste) which was too low a community for the Syrian Xtian, that I was, because we were taught that we have Brahminical hang over cord with which we stand above even the formidable Nairs. Let it be so, Vijayan asked me if I really have no problem sharing his food. I said NO not a bit. The Meen peera was good. Then on we shared food, to be true, Vijayan parted with his curry for me.
Vijayan’s parents wanted him to do MBBS, which he could not, owing to his not clearing PDC in the first and second attempt. Instead he joined the Homeo and become Dr. Vijayan and practiced in Kudamaloor. He was physician to my father also.
Vijayan had a love with a pretty girl which didn’t work. Problem was perhaps the same. Caste. He as every other Kudamaloor-ite was close to the liquor, both Desi and Videsi.
I have left for Delhi in 1971. Forty years over. Relationship with my childhood friends severed, Vijayan was no exception.
Yesterday, Vijayan passed away. I had planned to visit Kudamaloor yesterday, but it did not work out. Vijayan was my only connection to AKG Panicker, our common friend, and my childhood best friend, who too is lost in the sea of time. Now I have to find some ways to get Panicker connected.
We sat for lunch in the large lunch hall behind the main college building, near the loo. The hall with aroma of different variants of food packed in banana leaves and aluminiun vessels, filled the air.
Time One O clock. Stomach burning with hunger. I too opened my banana leaf roll. It opened up to white boiled rice with a spoonful of red chilli chutney. That was all I had.
My friend, Vijayan opened his lunch box which had a coconut chutney & fish peera. I could not stand the smell. I asked for a little portion of his fish peera. He was hesitant, not because he has problem in sharing, but because, he belonged to the Velan caste (DrKRN was born in that caste) which was too low a community for the Syrian Xtian, that I was, because we were taught that we have Brahminical hang over cord with which we stand above even the formidable Nairs. Let it be so, Vijayan asked me if I really have no problem sharing his food. I said NO not a bit. The Meen peera was good. Then on we shared food, to be true, Vijayan parted with his curry for me.
Vijayan’s parents wanted him to do MBBS, which he could not, owing to his not clearing PDC in the first and second attempt. Instead he joined the Homeo and become Dr. Vijayan and practiced in Kudamaloor. He was physician to my father also.
Vijayan had a love with a pretty girl which didn’t work. Problem was perhaps the same. Caste. He as every other Kudamaloor-ite was close to the liquor, both Desi and Videsi.
I have left for Delhi in 1971. Forty years over. Relationship with my childhood friends severed, Vijayan was no exception.
Yesterday, Vijayan passed away. I had planned to visit Kudamaloor yesterday, but it did not work out. Vijayan was my only connection to AKG Panicker, our common friend, and my childhood best friend, who too is lost in the sea of time. Now I have to find some ways to get Panicker connected.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Book of Genetics
Long long long ago, lived a Gentleman, Adi, with his wife Iva in the Country of Eden on Earth. Little did he know he was made the King of Eden. He lived on rare fruits from the trees of his own orchard. So plenty were the yields in the garden that he was busy trying one fruit after the other until he fell down and snoozing. This continued in Eden until…
His wife, attractive Iva, on the other hand, was conscious of her image and beauty. Busy collecting herbs and rare leaves of cosmetic and medicinal value, she was very selective in her diets and never ever ate anything and everything comes her way. More so, she was kind with other creatures in Eden. She, in fact, used to make good friends out of the other creatures of Eden. Iva, being the most beautiful of all the Edenites, used to get very flavoured fruits of rare kinds from other Orchards too. Those were special fruits which were not often found in Adi’s orchard. Adi, though, had no knowledge of this trespass and continued his careless lifestyle. Iva used to induce her appetites with the apples and berries so brought for her from other orchards by her admirers.
Adi, though was to take care of Iva, seldom cared for her. He was trying on various fruits from the Orchard and had nothing else, but to sleep after filling his belly. What to say, his life was an interval between filling and emptying and refilling belly.
Eve, was often getting tired in the Kings Villa, that she had to be on her heals alone, many a time. What to say, after all, she was also made of flesh and blood. Her despair was growing day by day.
Then on one such day…
On one of her stroll in the back yards, she happened to come across, Serpan, a handsome young adult with long arms, dark blue eyes and wily grin on his lips. He was holding a very beautiful bunch of purple berry. With bubbling mouth Iva could not beat her tempt which eventually set upon the man and the berry.
Iva ate the berries. That day and days after.
She sensed pukish and pleasant uneasiness in her under belly. Never mind she had had a fine feeling inside. Her flat leaf-like under belly was growing……that it has become as big as a jack fruit found in her Orchard.
Tired and exhausted, one day while sleeping, Iva heard a voice. It was from the Watchman of the Orchard, who knew what had happened inside the Orchard.
The watchman pronounced, Iva ate the fruit which was prohibited in the Eden, and for that matter, she was no more eligible to be in Eden. She was asked to leave, no matter where, as that was the order of the owner of the Orchard. She held Adi’s hands, who was still asleep, and walked out of the gate of Eden.
The door was shut behind them.
When Adi woke up to his senses, he found himself out of the Orchard and in a dry land where he could not lay hands on his favourite fruits. He could not stand that and became angry. He beat Iva in anger that she was put on breathtaking pain in her belly. Not knowing what was happening Iva cried cried until she was parted with her burden. Beside her laid the twosome – later named Cai and Aai- both boys.
Slowly and steadily thereafter ….
Iva forgot all the pain of the beating she got from Adi. After all, she cheated on him by having those berries from that Wily Serpan. Otherwise they would still be in Eden and their beautiful Orchard. Never mind, Iva felt more happy as she has something to do here now. She was busy in nursing her two sons, Cai and Aai and fetching and cooking meat for Adi.
Adi seldom spoke after that, he, in anger, got hold of a sharp object and started tilling the land. From sun rise to sun set.
There was rain, and soon there were grains along the tilled lines. Adi plucked the wheats and ate. He found it good.
He gave some grains to Iva and the twosome. They ate and found it good too.
Then, cai and Aai had many of their brothers and sisters and lived in that place and that was named after Cai, the first born, Canai….
The story does not end here…
His wife, attractive Iva, on the other hand, was conscious of her image and beauty. Busy collecting herbs and rare leaves of cosmetic and medicinal value, she was very selective in her diets and never ever ate anything and everything comes her way. More so, she was kind with other creatures in Eden. She, in fact, used to make good friends out of the other creatures of Eden. Iva, being the most beautiful of all the Edenites, used to get very flavoured fruits of rare kinds from other Orchards too. Those were special fruits which were not often found in Adi’s orchard. Adi, though, had no knowledge of this trespass and continued his careless lifestyle. Iva used to induce her appetites with the apples and berries so brought for her from other orchards by her admirers.
Adi, though was to take care of Iva, seldom cared for her. He was trying on various fruits from the Orchard and had nothing else, but to sleep after filling his belly. What to say, his life was an interval between filling and emptying and refilling belly.
Eve, was often getting tired in the Kings Villa, that she had to be on her heals alone, many a time. What to say, after all, she was also made of flesh and blood. Her despair was growing day by day.
Then on one such day…
On one of her stroll in the back yards, she happened to come across, Serpan, a handsome young adult with long arms, dark blue eyes and wily grin on his lips. He was holding a very beautiful bunch of purple berry. With bubbling mouth Iva could not beat her tempt which eventually set upon the man and the berry.
Iva ate the berries. That day and days after.
She sensed pukish and pleasant uneasiness in her under belly. Never mind she had had a fine feeling inside. Her flat leaf-like under belly was growing……that it has become as big as a jack fruit found in her Orchard.
Tired and exhausted, one day while sleeping, Iva heard a voice. It was from the Watchman of the Orchard, who knew what had happened inside the Orchard.
The watchman pronounced, Iva ate the fruit which was prohibited in the Eden, and for that matter, she was no more eligible to be in Eden. She was asked to leave, no matter where, as that was the order of the owner of the Orchard. She held Adi’s hands, who was still asleep, and walked out of the gate of Eden.
The door was shut behind them.
When Adi woke up to his senses, he found himself out of the Orchard and in a dry land where he could not lay hands on his favourite fruits. He could not stand that and became angry. He beat Iva in anger that she was put on breathtaking pain in her belly. Not knowing what was happening Iva cried cried until she was parted with her burden. Beside her laid the twosome – later named Cai and Aai- both boys.
Slowly and steadily thereafter ….
Iva forgot all the pain of the beating she got from Adi. After all, she cheated on him by having those berries from that Wily Serpan. Otherwise they would still be in Eden and their beautiful Orchard. Never mind, Iva felt more happy as she has something to do here now. She was busy in nursing her two sons, Cai and Aai and fetching and cooking meat for Adi.
Adi seldom spoke after that, he, in anger, got hold of a sharp object and started tilling the land. From sun rise to sun set.
There was rain, and soon there were grains along the tilled lines. Adi plucked the wheats and ate. He found it good.
He gave some grains to Iva and the twosome. They ate and found it good too.
Then, cai and Aai had many of their brothers and sisters and lived in that place and that was named after Cai, the first born, Canai….
The story does not end here…
Monday, May 23, 2011
A sunday movie Outing
Sunday has, for long, been a day for reading columns of HT, matri-ad for Swap in MM & TOI, fishing at Seemapuri, eating, dozing and normally ends with Sunday marketing (buying vegetables for the week). This being the routine for all Sundays, we took a different course on 22nd May 2011. After trying seeing-off Latha and Premkumar at Nizam-Uddin (trying means only Baby could see them off as I was the watchman for the two cars- lack of parking space at both sides of Nizam Uddin – a sad story). We, Baby and me, took a break at TERI Library, had coffee and headed for a stroll at INA. Bought some more nappies for Gundappu, had meals at ‘Kerala Hotel’ , a Dhaba at INA. After that unpleasant meal we came back to IHC to watch Pranchiyettan and the Saint.
Pranchiyettan and the Saint- a beginning to end absolute entertainer with strong mind stirring message. The story in a nutshell is : Pranchi-(y)-ettan, a typical Trichur Nazrani, a rice trader by profession, with bags of money in his kitty, but gets little respect in society. (The Trichur Nazranis conveniently abbreviate names like Pranchi, Prunchu, Porinchu, Pinchoo etc from Francis – Varuthu, Vareethu, Varu etc from Varghese – Chacku, Chakkunni, Chakkappi out of Jacob). A straight forward, rich but uneducated Pranchi earned an adjective to his name Ari- Pranchi( u can interpret it in English as Rice Francis)from his school days.
Francis Cheramal’ (his baptized family name) who is Ari- Pranchi for the town, struggle to attain some name worth his financial status (nilayum vilayum). He tried various means to get his name included in the list of ‘Padmashree awardees’. His liaison manager, hilariously enliven by veteran Shree Innocent, even offered to get him a ‘Chevalier’ a French knighthood. Pranchiyettan, as a true Trichur catholic businessman , sees his baits soon. He realizes, the only respect he gets from the market is the yettan added to Pranchi, which he is aware, even Trichurites will call Jesus- if given a chance – Yesu-(v)-ettan.
Pranchiyettan, a staunch believer in Church and its saints, calls on his favourite Punyalan (Punyalan is Saint in Malayalam) and his namesake St. Francis of Assissi. St. Francis started his sermon in French, which stunned Pranchi for he believed that the prayers he made all this while in Malayalam went absolutely waste as the Saint could not understand a bit. But the Saint, took note of Pranchiyettan’s agony and thenceforth conversed in staunch Trichur slang.
The Punyalan opened Ari Pranchi’s eyes, though late, to the hollowness of Nilayum Vilayum and the futile efforts people make to please the Punyalans with bribes (offerings)to reach their goals and their finding solace in a bottle of water(holy water) or a blessed rosary. I suggest a Catholic should watch Pranchiyettan and the Saint- filmy melodrama aparts- for a change.
Pranchiyettan and the Saint- a beginning to end absolute entertainer with strong mind stirring message. The story in a nutshell is : Pranchi-(y)-ettan, a typical Trichur Nazrani, a rice trader by profession, with bags of money in his kitty, but gets little respect in society. (The Trichur Nazranis conveniently abbreviate names like Pranchi, Prunchu, Porinchu, Pinchoo etc from Francis – Varuthu, Vareethu, Varu etc from Varghese – Chacku, Chakkunni, Chakkappi out of Jacob). A straight forward, rich but uneducated Pranchi earned an adjective to his name Ari- Pranchi( u can interpret it in English as Rice Francis)from his school days.
Francis Cheramal’ (his baptized family name) who is Ari- Pranchi for the town, struggle to attain some name worth his financial status (nilayum vilayum). He tried various means to get his name included in the list of ‘Padmashree awardees’. His liaison manager, hilariously enliven by veteran Shree Innocent, even offered to get him a ‘Chevalier’ a French knighthood. Pranchiyettan, as a true Trichur catholic businessman , sees his baits soon. He realizes, the only respect he gets from the market is the yettan added to Pranchi, which he is aware, even Trichurites will call Jesus- if given a chance – Yesu-(v)-ettan.
Pranchiyettan, a staunch believer in Church and its saints, calls on his favourite Punyalan (Punyalan is Saint in Malayalam) and his namesake St. Francis of Assissi. St. Francis started his sermon in French, which stunned Pranchi for he believed that the prayers he made all this while in Malayalam went absolutely waste as the Saint could not understand a bit. But the Saint, took note of Pranchiyettan’s agony and thenceforth conversed in staunch Trichur slang.
The Punyalan opened Ari Pranchi’s eyes, though late, to the hollowness of Nilayum Vilayum and the futile efforts people make to please the Punyalans with bribes (offerings)to reach their goals and their finding solace in a bottle of water(holy water) or a blessed rosary. I suggest a Catholic should watch Pranchiyettan and the Saint- filmy melodrama aparts- for a change.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Chotu, Badu and Gundappu
It used to be still dark, the bus will arrive on time as always, the mornings were too busy. Baby has already taken her position, where else- the kitchen, to ready b/f and tiffin. Before that she ensured a tea for warming up my nerves.
I usually take upon me the responsibility of waking the two up, usually with a sprinkler therapy, then the usual things, dress, feed b/f and the journey to school. While we did all these things, these two baboons were half sleep. However, the most important part of readying was doing the hair. Badoo’s Saibaba bunch with which I struggled to make plaits to make her look Gentle. Chottu’s was long straight, easy to experiment. I have tried umpteen times, but could never master this art of plait making. Baby appear, (with a curt look at me for my good for nothingness), at the right time and in no time, my twosomes turn out smart for the ride. Then comes the run for the school bus. Never cared, I confess, I had deliberately delayed myself to skip the bus to enjoy the scooter ride with Chotu in the front and Badu as pillion. The ride would be a cool ten kilo metres, watching the morning birds, making fun of every one men and animals, giggling, sniggering and laughing all the way.
Now all have become past… Chotu and Badu are no more so Gundappu arrived amongst us and I must tell you, Baby (Now Ammachi & Me Appachan) and all of us now have only one job to do. Dancing to Gundappu’s trumpet calls, no matter what time of the day, Gundappu whistles and in no time all of us are on our toes. -ATTENTION!. He may call for a change of nappy, for his quota of feed or a bottom clean up. Whatsoever, we all are on our toes. Tomorrow Gundappu will have his formal name. But we will keep calling him Gundappu until we realize the need for change or Gundappy make us change.
I usually take upon me the responsibility of waking the two up, usually with a sprinkler therapy, then the usual things, dress, feed b/f and the journey to school. While we did all these things, these two baboons were half sleep. However, the most important part of readying was doing the hair. Badoo’s Saibaba bunch with which I struggled to make plaits to make her look Gentle. Chottu’s was long straight, easy to experiment. I have tried umpteen times, but could never master this art of plait making. Baby appear, (with a curt look at me for my good for nothingness), at the right time and in no time, my twosomes turn out smart for the ride. Then comes the run for the school bus. Never cared, I confess, I had deliberately delayed myself to skip the bus to enjoy the scooter ride with Chotu in the front and Badu as pillion. The ride would be a cool ten kilo metres, watching the morning birds, making fun of every one men and animals, giggling, sniggering and laughing all the way.
Now all have become past… Chotu and Badu are no more so Gundappu arrived amongst us and I must tell you, Baby (Now Ammachi & Me Appachan) and all of us now have only one job to do. Dancing to Gundappu’s trumpet calls, no matter what time of the day, Gundappu whistles and in no time all of us are on our toes. -ATTENTION!. He may call for a change of nappy, for his quota of feed or a bottom clean up. Whatsoever, we all are on our toes. Tomorrow Gundappu will have his formal name. But we will keep calling him Gundappu until we realize the need for change or Gundappy make us change.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Farewell to Type Writer
The curve between my index and thump has developed a blackish rough skin. Eight hours of association with the mouse has caused this. The ‘mouse’ which caused my curve blackish is not the cat & mouse, many men, my age, understand, It is the master monitor of the computer.
Oldies ‘Halda’, ‘Remington’ and Godrej, my archaic companions of bygone time, have now made a slow fade from my mind, so also from the world of letters. Nostalgia, pulls me through the by-lanes of the past.
Thak, Thak, Thak, some at 40 wpm, 60 wpm and a few at above that. The thak, thak were the sound of music produced by the supersonic strikes with ten fingers of the typist on the multiple keys of the typewriter. Many still hold the doubt about the name, which one is for the machine and which one for the man. I will now say, both names fit in for both of them, as the man and the machine were one at 9.30 am till 5.30 p.m.
I walk through my memory lane and stops at the Royal Commercial Institute, Kottayam near the Raj Mahal Theatre, one of the two Cenema Theatres of Kottayam, the other being ;Star’, both do not exist now. At ‘Royal’ I learned to place my ten fingers rest on the ‘key board’ of a ‘Halda’ fetching “asdfjkl;” creating “a quick brown fox jumps over a lazy little dog”. It took 45 minutes to complete four lines on the first day of my training. The year 1970.
Type writers are no more, so are telex, cyclostyle machine, tele-printer, Dialer phone, cigarette cases, lighters (these were once part of office) ink pots, pens, pencils, fans, coolers…… and the old pan chewing Manager….. .
Oldies ‘Halda’, ‘Remington’ and Godrej, my archaic companions of bygone time, have now made a slow fade from my mind, so also from the world of letters. Nostalgia, pulls me through the by-lanes of the past.
Thak, Thak, Thak, some at 40 wpm, 60 wpm and a few at above that. The thak, thak were the sound of music produced by the supersonic strikes with ten fingers of the typist on the multiple keys of the typewriter. Many still hold the doubt about the name, which one is for the machine and which one for the man. I will now say, both names fit in for both of them, as the man and the machine were one at 9.30 am till 5.30 p.m.
I walk through my memory lane and stops at the Royal Commercial Institute, Kottayam near the Raj Mahal Theatre, one of the two Cenema Theatres of Kottayam, the other being ;Star’, both do not exist now. At ‘Royal’ I learned to place my ten fingers rest on the ‘key board’ of a ‘Halda’ fetching “asdfjkl;” creating “a quick brown fox jumps over a lazy little dog”. It took 45 minutes to complete four lines on the first day of my training. The year 1970.
Type writers are no more, so are telex, cyclostyle machine, tele-printer, Dialer phone, cigarette cases, lighters (these were once part of office) ink pots, pens, pencils, fans, coolers…… and the old pan chewing Manager….. .
Monday, May 2, 2011
April 22, 2011 - A Good Friday Indeed
All roads now leads to Rome (change Gundappu)
Gundappu arrived on the most auspicious day, Good Friday. This was an arrival all of us yearning for moths. I, the Appachan, confess, my happiness lead me beyond Rome.
I can see Gundappu’s Amachi, consulting places far as Narickal, and Ernakulam, but doing every thing her own ways and style. No doubt, no one doubts, what she does is the best and matchless. Gudnappu’s Mema christened Gundappu with that name when he was inside (you should know Gundappu is not his given name, but in our circle he will remain Gundappu for many more years). Wah! Gundappu brought us all to our toes with our antennas to his direction. Not only that,
Gundappu is now the Solar Star; every others are planets making round and round and round. Wah! All our planning for House, rooms, furniture, clothes Journeys, starts with the interests of Gundappu and turns around Gundappu. We will now have only one thing to discuss. Gundappu’s every day activities., his sleep, cry, irritation, intakes and discharges. Gundappu arrived with new music, light and colour in to our home, perhaps after more than quarter of a century.
To my dear blog followers, I reveal a secret Gundappu smiled at me, me only. I will soon be learning his language for effective and meaningful communication between us.
I am very busy, so until next time I come up with more news about Gundappu, excuse me please………..
Gundappu arrived on the most auspicious day, Good Friday. This was an arrival all of us yearning for moths. I, the Appachan, confess, my happiness lead me beyond Rome.
I can see Gundappu’s Amachi, consulting places far as Narickal, and Ernakulam, but doing every thing her own ways and style. No doubt, no one doubts, what she does is the best and matchless. Gudnappu’s Mema christened Gundappu with that name when he was inside (you should know Gundappu is not his given name, but in our circle he will remain Gundappu for many more years). Wah! Gundappu brought us all to our toes with our antennas to his direction. Not only that,
Gundappu is now the Solar Star; every others are planets making round and round and round. Wah! All our planning for House, rooms, furniture, clothes Journeys, starts with the interests of Gundappu and turns around Gundappu. We will now have only one thing to discuss. Gundappu’s every day activities., his sleep, cry, irritation, intakes and discharges. Gundappu arrived with new music, light and colour in to our home, perhaps after more than quarter of a century.
To my dear blog followers, I reveal a secret Gundappu smiled at me, me only. I will soon be learning his language for effective and meaningful communication between us.
I am very busy, so until next time I come up with more news about Gundappu, excuse me please………..
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Rejoice in ........
At sixty one plus, I should be behaving an elderly, rigid, religious, more tending to GOD. I confess I believe in GOD, the almighty, in all forms, be Ye Yahowa, Yah, Allah, Vishnu, Brahma, & Shiva. I Love Jesus for his multiple teachings and the prayer – Our father -, HIS humble birth, modesty and humility, and also for his confiscating the vine from the well at the Marriage at Kanai which was concealed by the cunning Jew. It was a good job. I love Krishna for his teachings of Dharma, and for his earthy deeds. He was very boyish when he was a boy.
Today, in the Visual Arts Gallery, there was a painting of Krishna and Jesus, like two village youths sitting and chatting under a tree with their animals around. The caption of the painting was ‘Edayar’(Malayalam) – (Shepherds).
Last Sunday, the Young priest, who conducted the service, cautioned the folks before him the need to be clean. He was vocal of the importance of washing off sins, at least, once a year. He meant the need for confession. He further in his sermon cited the recent Japan calamity to alarm the believers the need for confession. He doubted, if, those Japanese – over twenty thousand–who have met with death got entry into Heaven, as they were not prepared for the same.. He warned and cautioned the folks to be prepared for eventual death, which can occur any time, as in Japan. He was proposing the need for confession. I felt the need to walk out and exactly did. I do not feel guilty.
Bibin turned 18 last week. I called him to wish. He said he would not celeberate his 18th B’day as it is Lent season. Where in the holy scriptures, it is written you should not rejoice. He was so unyielding in his belief, I did not try to correct him. The boy who lives in London town, is averse to good life any boy of his age would be craving. A very unhealthy sign indeed.
I seriously feel, something is wrong in our religious system. The priests do not have a qualm while taking the folks for a ride. They instill fear in believers’ minds, more so young minds. I do not know if it is the policy of the church. If so, they will meet a certain end of road very soon.
Today, in the Visual Arts Gallery, there was a painting of Krishna and Jesus, like two village youths sitting and chatting under a tree with their animals around. The caption of the painting was ‘Edayar’(Malayalam) – (Shepherds).
Last Sunday, the Young priest, who conducted the service, cautioned the folks before him the need to be clean. He was vocal of the importance of washing off sins, at least, once a year. He meant the need for confession. He further in his sermon cited the recent Japan calamity to alarm the believers the need for confession. He doubted, if, those Japanese – over twenty thousand–who have met with death got entry into Heaven, as they were not prepared for the same.. He warned and cautioned the folks to be prepared for eventual death, which can occur any time, as in Japan. He was proposing the need for confession. I felt the need to walk out and exactly did. I do not feel guilty.
Bibin turned 18 last week. I called him to wish. He said he would not celeberate his 18th B’day as it is Lent season. Where in the holy scriptures, it is written you should not rejoice. He was so unyielding in his belief, I did not try to correct him. The boy who lives in London town, is averse to good life any boy of his age would be craving. A very unhealthy sign indeed.
I seriously feel, something is wrong in our religious system. The priests do not have a qualm while taking the folks for a ride. They instill fear in believers’ minds, more so young minds. I do not know if it is the policy of the church. If so, they will meet a certain end of road very soon.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Kodathel Unni
When I was young, very young, as old as eight or ten, during one of our weekly visit to the Church, my friend, Varkey took me to the idol of “ Kodathel Unni” (Baby Jesus on a globe)–literally meaning ‘Child on the Pot’. Unni was, in fact is, beautifully clothed like a young little girl. Yes, Unni, though a boy, is robed with a well-knit silk maxi frock.(when I recently visited the church I looked for Unni — the robe has been changed).
Varkey took me to the ‘Kodathel Unni”, glanced around and made sure no one, especially the nuns, was around. Then suddenly he raised the maxi.
Aghast! I could not believe my eyes, I saw it.
Yes, an electric like tremor passed through my bones. Varkey, my friend, made me to view Jesus in his true attire. I committed a sin. I sinned with my eyes. Believe it, I saw Baby Jesus naked. A dead sin indeed. Under his decorated pink rob, Unni wore nothing, I mean, the boyish thing was there for real. I was scared to the bone. I do not know, for how long I was under that fear of sinning with my eyes. I had revealed this secret not to many. Had that act be known to the Nun teachers, God, what would have been the case. I don’t know if the sculptor of the idol was rebuked by the Church.
I am sure, one of the nuns might have had the idea of covering Baby Jesus. She might have had a smile too.
I feel, Baby Jesus would have been put there as it is, I mean without that pink maxi on him. Then Varkey, my friend, and me would not have committed that sin, sin of seeing the disturbing revelation. Unni Krishnan (Baby Lord Krishna) is seen in as is in temples, and, I believe, Unni Krishnan is more in friendship with boys of my age at that time than Kodathel Unni. My point is, why not Unni Yesu a naughty, wily, and earthy boy like Unni Krishnan, a friend of all ages and gender. While Unni Krishnan plays with the boys and Gopikas Unni Yesu is confined to the tabernacle. No play, only bow. Let Jesus be a friend of Children, let HIM play with them. Children will like it, love it indeed.
Pope Benedit XVI in his latest book Jesus of Nazareth, Part II corrects some of the beliefs of the Catholic world viz. the general belief that Jews crucified the Lord. He apologises the Church’s inaction against holocaust of the Jews, an act the Nazis committed during the ww.II, a thing Pius XII, the then Pope, closed his eyes on.
So much so, church needs to also change its stand on marriage, celibacy, child bearing etc. There are good number of persons in the religious robs wanting to do away with it, but can not, for fear of social boycotts. I believe, it will be apt, if the church allows the apple to seed, instead of rot and perish.
Varkey took me to the ‘Kodathel Unni”, glanced around and made sure no one, especially the nuns, was around. Then suddenly he raised the maxi.
Aghast! I could not believe my eyes, I saw it.
Yes, an electric like tremor passed through my bones. Varkey, my friend, made me to view Jesus in his true attire. I committed a sin. I sinned with my eyes. Believe it, I saw Baby Jesus naked. A dead sin indeed. Under his decorated pink rob, Unni wore nothing, I mean, the boyish thing was there for real. I was scared to the bone. I do not know, for how long I was under that fear of sinning with my eyes. I had revealed this secret not to many. Had that act be known to the Nun teachers, God, what would have been the case. I don’t know if the sculptor of the idol was rebuked by the Church.
I am sure, one of the nuns might have had the idea of covering Baby Jesus. She might have had a smile too.
I feel, Baby Jesus would have been put there as it is, I mean without that pink maxi on him. Then Varkey, my friend, and me would not have committed that sin, sin of seeing the disturbing revelation. Unni Krishnan (Baby Lord Krishna) is seen in as is in temples, and, I believe, Unni Krishnan is more in friendship with boys of my age at that time than Kodathel Unni. My point is, why not Unni Yesu a naughty, wily, and earthy boy like Unni Krishnan, a friend of all ages and gender. While Unni Krishnan plays with the boys and Gopikas Unni Yesu is confined to the tabernacle. No play, only bow. Let Jesus be a friend of Children, let HIM play with them. Children will like it, love it indeed.
Pope Benedit XVI in his latest book Jesus of Nazareth, Part II corrects some of the beliefs of the Catholic world viz. the general belief that Jews crucified the Lord. He apologises the Church’s inaction against holocaust of the Jews, an act the Nazis committed during the ww.II, a thing Pius XII, the then Pope, closed his eyes on.
So much so, church needs to also change its stand on marriage, celibacy, child bearing etc. There are good number of persons in the religious robs wanting to do away with it, but can not, for fear of social boycotts. I believe, it will be apt, if the church allows the apple to seed, instead of rot and perish.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
A little more
Long back, in a sermon, a a priest narrated the incident, I now recollect and post it for my rare viewers.
A little more
On a winter night, a weak, frail, almost unconscious person was found on a busy pavement. He had very little clothes on him, and it seemed he has had no food for long. He was shivering with high fever. What to say, he was almost dying on the pavement.
A good Samaritan lead him to a nearby Government Hospital. Doctors routinely allotted him a little space in the already over-crowded Hospital Varanda, The Hospital runners were certain he was a destitute, hence as can be expected, he was treated exactly the way a dejected person can expect. Days passed. On the strength of the pills flung into his mouth by the reluctant nurses, he was back on the recovery path.
On such a day, the attendant nurse, to her surprise, found him reading a book, an English book. She could not resist her anxiety. She promptly took this matter up to the Doctor. The doctor too could not believe as he too had counted him a destitute beggar, certainly not a lettered category.
The doctor accompanied the nurse to the patient and quipped “Area you reading”
“Yes, doctor, just for passing time” “thank you”, in a low voice the patient replied.
Surprised, the doctor further queried, “Are you a learned person ?”
“Yes Doctor” a little” the patient politely answered.
“How little, Pre-degree ?” … Doctor
“Yes, but a little more”
“BA” ?
“ Yes, but a little more”
“Then, uhm…..MA ?”
“Yes doctor, but a little more” patient smiled and answered the doctors.
“My Good God” the impatient doctor yelled at the patient “ Tell me what is your qualification” Who are you ?
Looking up the doctor and the nurse, the patient in a weak, whispering, but firm voice said.
“I am every thing that you have asked, but a little more”
“I am a M ….A….N”
A little more
On a winter night, a weak, frail, almost unconscious person was found on a busy pavement. He had very little clothes on him, and it seemed he has had no food for long. He was shivering with high fever. What to say, he was almost dying on the pavement.
A good Samaritan lead him to a nearby Government Hospital. Doctors routinely allotted him a little space in the already over-crowded Hospital Varanda, The Hospital runners were certain he was a destitute, hence as can be expected, he was treated exactly the way a dejected person can expect. Days passed. On the strength of the pills flung into his mouth by the reluctant nurses, he was back on the recovery path.
On such a day, the attendant nurse, to her surprise, found him reading a book, an English book. She could not resist her anxiety. She promptly took this matter up to the Doctor. The doctor too could not believe as he too had counted him a destitute beggar, certainly not a lettered category.
The doctor accompanied the nurse to the patient and quipped “Area you reading”
“Yes, doctor, just for passing time” “thank you”, in a low voice the patient replied.
Surprised, the doctor further queried, “Are you a learned person ?”
“Yes Doctor” a little” the patient politely answered.
“How little, Pre-degree ?” … Doctor
“Yes, but a little more”
“BA” ?
“ Yes, but a little more”
“Then, uhm…..MA ?”
“Yes doctor, but a little more” patient smiled and answered the doctors.
“My Good God” the impatient doctor yelled at the patient “ Tell me what is your qualification” Who are you ?
Looking up the doctor and the nurse, the patient in a weak, whispering, but firm voice said.
“I am every thing that you have asked, but a little more”
“I am a M ….A….N”
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Justice Instant
Today, 6th January 2011 – A court in Delhi ruled with 2000 rupees and seven years jail for two thieves, who tried to steal Rs.20/- . Good Work – The courts are doing a well done job !
The New year was buzzed with reports Ex CJI’s relatives amassing billions…. another Ex CJI’s with billions in the Delhi Shopping Malls… (remember the demolitions of un-authrorised colonies) they were for shut shops and shop in Malls where EX’s son has a stake. Fast delivery of justice for fast bucks Good Justice. An Ex foreign minister,s son for kick back from Saddam… All Saints roam free.. EX-CJI – KGB-protects …Human rights …Phoooo They play Dalit card, political ploy etc..etc..… They are pure as white milk.
A Lady stabbed a MLA in Bihar. Instant Justice!
Binayak Sen, was given a life term. He was linked to ISI (Indian Social Institute – A Jesuits run Research Institution) for Terrorism ( ISI of Pak)Phoo.. , He was also charged for sedation- for he served as a Doctor, the marginalized, the untouchables…. Evidence.. His prescriptions to a Tribal who was branded ‘Naxal’ by the Feudal Military – Salva Judum- with license to kill the black, thin, hungry, illiterate, insolvent ‘Junglies’. Remember, the Dr. Desai… with licensing scam…He may perhaps walk out for want of evidence. You know why? Reason you can get above… Crores ? You want example Arushi’s parents ?
.
Young India…. R U sleeping. Rahul went on a whirlwind tour to countryside….met whom for what ? Where is he? Is he doing anything… Or Does he still think… India is Sachin, Dhoni, Rittik, Ash & Deepika – Cricket and Film, Jyodiraditya, Sachin and Yatin Prasada – Princely inheritance for governance… Dear Rahul Ganhi, look Eastward…. There is India boiling. Act, if you can.. OR else….
The New year was buzzed with reports Ex CJI’s relatives amassing billions…. another Ex CJI’s with billions in the Delhi Shopping Malls… (remember the demolitions of un-authrorised colonies) they were for shut shops and shop in Malls where EX’s son has a stake. Fast delivery of justice for fast bucks Good Justice. An Ex foreign minister,s son for kick back from Saddam… All Saints roam free.. EX-CJI – KGB-protects …Human rights …Phoooo They play Dalit card, political ploy etc..etc..… They are pure as white milk.
A Lady stabbed a MLA in Bihar. Instant Justice!
Binayak Sen, was given a life term. He was linked to ISI (Indian Social Institute – A Jesuits run Research Institution) for Terrorism ( ISI of Pak)Phoo.. , He was also charged for sedation- for he served as a Doctor, the marginalized, the untouchables…. Evidence.. His prescriptions to a Tribal who was branded ‘Naxal’ by the Feudal Military – Salva Judum- with license to kill the black, thin, hungry, illiterate, insolvent ‘Junglies’. Remember, the Dr. Desai… with licensing scam…He may perhaps walk out for want of evidence. You know why? Reason you can get above… Crores ? You want example Arushi’s parents ?
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Young India…. R U sleeping. Rahul went on a whirlwind tour to countryside….met whom for what ? Where is he? Is he doing anything… Or Does he still think… India is Sachin, Dhoni, Rittik, Ash & Deepika – Cricket and Film, Jyodiraditya, Sachin and Yatin Prasada – Princely inheritance for governance… Dear Rahul Ganhi, look Eastward…. There is India boiling. Act, if you can.. OR else….
Mallu Pride..... Phhhhtttto
My 2nd posting of the day shall follow with a third one.
I had once written about my Mallu Pride…. It was like a big Balloon, the more I hear about accomplished Mallus My balloon used to get inflated.
Phto…. CP Ramachandran Nair, the CEO of LIC Finance pinned my pride balloon… Now with coffers from the KGB’s corruption house, it got deflated. I shall not blow it again. KG Balakrishnan was assigned the custodian of Law of the Nation. He blasted it…..CPR was assigned with investors hard-earned crores… he played with it. Phhhtooooo….
It is the season of Large scale corruption. Koda, Raja, Kalmadi, - they say they are only the tip of the Ice Berg – Then there are the real big icebergs, behind black glasses, Cricket boards- Oh my Good God, save this country, save my God's own country from disrepute too.
I had once written about my Mallu Pride…. It was like a big Balloon, the more I hear about accomplished Mallus My balloon used to get inflated.
Phto…. CP Ramachandran Nair, the CEO of LIC Finance pinned my pride balloon… Now with coffers from the KGB’s corruption house, it got deflated. I shall not blow it again. KG Balakrishnan was assigned the custodian of Law of the Nation. He blasted it…..CPR was assigned with investors hard-earned crores… he played with it. Phhhtooooo….
It is the season of Large scale corruption. Koda, Raja, Kalmadi, - they say they are only the tip of the Ice Berg – Then there are the real big icebergs, behind black glasses, Cricket boards- Oh my Good God, save this country, save my God's own country from disrepute too.
40 th in Delhi
Though It is New Year, I have to report my 40th Christmas in Delhi.
It was Christmas again… The usual star cast, maha maha boring Carols… Cold Midnight Mass ! But of course, Christmas thrills. With four gulp of Royalstag and the un-comparable delicacies from Baby & Co with 11 guests from Skn family add Christmas spirit well with sharing and Merry.
Of course Baby’s cake, add my cholesterol, Nitin’s too – he is the biggest customer – Colleagues N Bus companions cherished.
A day prior to – I broke my leg, put on plaster. Baby says… it is due to my straying glances… What to do… I too think, it may be.. OR may be to remind me of my age. But blessing in disguise, Baby takes up tasks to do things on her own.
This is perhaps my 40th Christmas in Delhi… Hence, cold weather has become a routine thing. Enjoy. I was without shoes and with plaster on left foot, but no complaints. I enjoyed Christmas ! Plaster will go on till 19th Jan, if not redone.
Hope and pray to see many more Christmas… Johny Walker OR Black Label next time. Any takers ?
It was Christmas again… The usual star cast, maha maha boring Carols… Cold Midnight Mass ! But of course, Christmas thrills. With four gulp of Royalstag and the un-comparable delicacies from Baby & Co with 11 guests from Skn family add Christmas spirit well with sharing and Merry.
Of course Baby’s cake, add my cholesterol, Nitin’s too – he is the biggest customer – Colleagues N Bus companions cherished.
A day prior to – I broke my leg, put on plaster. Baby says… it is due to my straying glances… What to do… I too think, it may be.. OR may be to remind me of my age. But blessing in disguise, Baby takes up tasks to do things on her own.
This is perhaps my 40th Christmas in Delhi… Hence, cold weather has become a routine thing. Enjoy. I was without shoes and with plaster on left foot, but no complaints. I enjoyed Christmas ! Plaster will go on till 19th Jan, if not redone.
Hope and pray to see many more Christmas… Johny Walker OR Black Label next time. Any takers ?
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