Bicycle chronicles

The complex neural networks within my brain do not properly extend and complete the circuit for memories to flow. As retirement has made me happy, lazy and contended, my mind seems to be losing its grip; the process of forgetting things has just hastened up, since turning the retirement age. Surprise, surprise! I can still remember things of the distant past to a minute detail. I don’t know how things work inside the brains’ neural networks; only a neuro-scientist can explain this phenomenon with any degree of accuracy. Apologies, I am rambling on, unconnected to the story I am about to relate!

The other day, I saw a wizened old man riding a rather poorly maintained rusty old bicycle. It was a ‘Raleigh’ cycle and it appeared to be decades old. Memories flooded back to my younger days when I had dreamt of owning a ‘Raleigh’ cycle. That was not to be. I never owned a bicycle with my own money or my father's money.  I learnt cycling with my uncle’s ‘Rallis’ bicycle (though not a ‘Raleigh’ brand in the strict sense, but somewhat nearer I suppose) on the streets of Bengaluru. The streets were deserted back then; it was easy to learn cross-legged cycling, at the beginning. This is a complex way to learn balancing. The first hard lesson I learnt was holding the hand brake lever while simultaneously holding the bar grip. When I slackened the brake lever grip somewhat, the bicycle would veer off- control and knock some pedestrians on the street. Many a few pedestrians have had a lucky break or two, darting here and there during my bicycle learning days. Some of the pedestrians let me off easily without fuss, while some others glared hard at me hard with a few gripes for trying to learn the bicycle on the streets. Falling off of the bicycle innumerable times, I finally graduated to riding half-resting on the bar (the bar connects the seat to the handle). Once I gained mastery over cross legged cycling and bar-riding, the final step was hopping on to the seat and balancing the bicycle. It was an exhilarating experience. The next logical step was balancing the bicycle without holding the handle bars and riding out in style, inviting the harsh scowl of the senior pedestrians!

As I never owned a bicycle, the alternative was renting out a bicycle at the rate of 60 Paisa per hour. The bicycle renter wanted a deposit of Re.1, so that we don’t ride away with the bicycle. Riding out on the rented bicycle and exploring newer roads and neighbourhoods was a very popular pastime, amongst young boys of my era. As my parents invariably did not want me to spend more time outside, I had to sometimes settle for half-an-hour renting of the bicycle (at 30 Paisa only).

However, life has been more than fair to me. One of my uncles gifted me his used ‘Rallis’ bicycle when he himself graduated to owning a Scooter. This gifted bicycle was my pride and joy until I completed my college study and landed my first job. I rode the same bicycle for the first six months (or so) into my new job with my head held high while most of my other colleagues were travelling by local city bus!

Once on a joyride, I was speeding down the street, taking my hands off the handle-grip; the front wheel encountered sand particles on the road and gave away sliding!  I was thrown off the bicycle and landed on my elbow.  It was a serious fracture and that ended my cycling days!

The Mouse Hunt

The Mouse Hunt

The small mammal close to humans, the house mouse, can cause extreme reactions in us, humans, if they infest our homes. There was one such house mouse which had invaded our home recently and stayed put for more than two weeks. You may not believe it, the tiny rodent started playing with all our human emotions and created short circuits in our brains. I am not exaggerating. All of us, in our family were on tenterhooks, waiting to explode at any time, due to the ruckus created by the tiny mouse. To be fair to the mouse, all this was not the fault of the tiny rodent, it was just living its life under our auspices, enjoying the warmth of the refrigerator motor unit cubicle and the cool climes of the kitchen cupboards.

It all began on a rainy day, when the weather was cool in Bangalore. We thought, Bangalore was slowly regaining its original rainy climate (the climate that existed so many decades ago) when the days were rainy and the skies overcast. Our home was cool and dark. We had to switch on the lights to lighten the gloom inside our home. On one such gloomy day, while cooking lunch, my wife noticed some sounds emanating in the kitchen cabinets below the granite kitchen platform. When she told me that, this could be the handiwork of a house mouse, I was aghast. I told her, she was imagining things. The problem, was, as always, my sceptical behaviour. I do not believe in things, until I see them with my own eyes. My wife was insistent, that I was wrong, as usual. The kind of light banter that happens routinely in most households, continued between husband and wife, back and forth.  The next day, she told me that more sounds were coming from the cupboard and she was quite certain this time, as she had seen the mouse with her own eyes, scurrying within the cupboard, when she had the cupboard door open to pick some house hold items from there. It was my turn again to be adamant. I told her that her imagination was running riot, she had better rein in her imagination.  She scoffed and challenged me to open the cupboard door and verify it for myself. I am normally hesitant to challenge the rodent family or for that matter even the roach family or lizard family. I have to admit to myself, (not in front my wife, of course) that I am, rather scared of the house pests. Not that, I would run away from them, if found in the vicinity; only that, I would not dare to put myself in the pests’ path and go looking for them in cupboards or elsewhere. As usual, my wife accused me of being less of a man, if I dare not shoo away the mouse from our home. She felt vindicated with her assessment, when I refused smugly to look into the kitchen cupboard.

As can be expected, the mouse had to venture out of its hiding place, in search of food some day. Within the next two or three days after its first sighting, the mouse came out from the kitchen cupboard and scurried into the room. Even then, I did not notice the mouse. Only from the reactions of those around, I could gather that a lightning bolt had hit in the vicinity. This time around, I was convinced that there was, indeed, some pest, going about the house and a strong, positive action, was required from me. Being the man of the house, I retrieved the mouse trap from the loft and gathered all my wits for setting the bait using the mousetrap. I searched for some help online, looking for a perfect bait that would attract the mouse into the trap. Some of them had suggested, cheese would be the best bait to trap the mouse. We did not have cheese in the house, so the next alternative we had, was, a small toffee. The bait was set and the trap kept near the refrigerator, where we thought it had gone into hiding, the previous night. On the next morning, we were eager to see the result of our smart move. Nothing in the trap. The mouse was not really bothered about the toffee. Our neighbour rubbished and laughed at the idea of a toffee as bait and said, ‘no way; the mouse will not be attracted by a toffee, you are simply wasting your time’ (You see, we were so desperate that we had consulted our immediate neighbourhood looking for the best ways of trapping a house mouse). The next day, we purchased rat poison from the retailer nearby, who told us, that this is the best way to get rid of rats. We placed the rat poison nimbly near the refrigerator with a fond hope that the mouse would be dead the next morning after having tried the poison. But, our mouse was made of sterner stuff, it was, in no way attracted to the poison. The rat poison idea too, had failed to achieve its objective.

My wife reminded me of a funny story which goes something like this. It appears that Saif Ali Khan (son of Mansoor Ali Khan Pataudi and Sharmila Tagore) had once taken out his shotgun to go after a colony of Indian mole rats that was pestering his neighbourhood. The story goes that Saif Ali Khan was called in every time an Indian mole rat was spotted in the neighbourhood and he was nicknamed the ‘Rat hunter’ as he had hunted down the rat every time with alacrity. His more famous father was nicknamed the ‘tiger’ as he had hunted real tigers in the jungle, while his son had followed in the footsteps of his famous father and become a ‘Rat hunter’!

Back to our mouse story. Based on one of our neighbour’s suggestion, the next day we kept a burnt dry coconut piece as bait in the mouse trap. The mouse seemed to have guessed our intentions and remained disinterested even in the dry coconut offering. The next bright suggestion came from our house maid. She said that there is a new mouse bait available in the market, called magic mouse trap or some such thing, which had an extremely sticky substance smeared on a piece of cardboard. She purchased the thing and bought it for us. All we had to do was place the cardboard contraption in the path of the mouse. Our maid had all words of praise on the new mouse trapping device; she had tried it out several times with positive results. She was confident the trap would work. It seems, the bait had been manufactured in such a way, that when the mouse, scurries over the cardboard piece, all of its four feet get stuck right there. The mouse would be left whimpering for someone to rescue it from the sticky cardboard. All one had to do was, dispose of, the whimpering stuck mouse, outside of their homes. Our mouse was smarter than any of us and avoided treading on the magic cardboard for days together. We all looked like fools and were left holding the cardboard contraption without any success.

We had formed a formidable team of mouse hunters to trap the mouse. The house maid as the team lead; as man of house, I, was the second lead, wife being the chief co-ordinator and rest of the family members, the curious onlookers. All our efforts to catch the mouse had failed and the team had, almost, given up on its mission.

In the meanwhile, our smart mouse was creating havoc within our house. We were, of the impression that the mouse would just move around on the ground floor alternating between the kitchen and the room. It had no dark place to hide elsewhere in the living room. We never expected that the mouse could climb up to the first floor and invade our bedroom. It did just that! One evening we saw the mouse scamper across in our bedroom and go back to its hiding place inside my writing desk kept on the first floor living room. My writing desk held all sorts of attraction to the mouse, it was an ideal hiding place. I had stored photo albums, old books, dusting clothes, toolbox kit and many more in my writing desk drawer. There was an opening behind the writing desk, which was convenient for the mouse to hide itself within this desk drawer. I avoided sitting at my writing desk for a few days, due to the fear of disturbing the mouse or its position. The mouse had made it a habit of moving from first floor to ground floor kitchen refrigerator during the night times and staying in the writing desk during the day times without fear of any disturbance from us, the humans.

Using all our wits and with the help of suggestions from various family members and neighbours, we finally hit the jackpot after two weeks of mental torture. We set a fried piece of savoury doughnut snack as the bait in the mousetrap, by dangling it, via the small metal wire inside. The hapless mouse, at last, felt bold enough to try out the tasty snack. This was its undoing. The mouse was finally trapped and the housemaid, the team lead, disposed it off, outside our home. All the team members, heaved a huge sigh of relief and felt good for having trapped a wily house mouse which had eluded capture for over two weeks. The successful team has been disbanded for the time being!

Bhoot Bangla - A live story!

Nelson Mandela had said somewhere that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it and the brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear. Nice quote. Gives me courage to say that fear is nearly almost present in all of us! May be to a varying degree, perhaps. I think it is the human gene that is the culprit! ‘Fear’ gene (or whatever technical name the scientists would have given this gene) may have been passed on to us right from our evolution days (either as homo sapiens or homo erectus or some other earlier species even). Who knows? What I am trying to do here is to justify that we all fear something or the other, especially the unknown. 

The word fear is defined by Merriam-Webster dictionary as something or someone to be afraid of; to expect or worry about something bad or unpleasant. Basically, it is an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm. Fear drives people to do many things. Both good and bad. Though most of our fears are irrational and unfounded. 

It takes me back to the time when I was young, may be 9 or 10 years old. I had this terrible fear of unknown. Let’s call it fear of ghosts, because that was the nomenclature commonly used those days! I used to stay with my parents on a quiet street in a lonely area of Jayanagar (Those days Jayanagar was lonely and dimly lit with yellow bulbs during night times). There was this empty house on our street. During our stay of 7 years on this particular street, I never saw this house ever tenanted. This house wore a dilapidated look because of lack of maintenance. Shrubs and creepers had grown all around the house which gave it a decrepit appearance. In the mind of 10-year-old, this house had an eerie look! Whenever I used to pass this house during day times I had this habit of staring at the house looking for signs of any activity in the windows, though I clearly knew in my mind that no one resided there. However, during the evening times (around 7 PM or so just when the Sun had set and darkness was creeping upon) the house used to acquire a sinister look (in the mind of a 10-year-old). While passing the house one evening, on an errand, I kept staring at the house. I paused just slightly before the house as I could see some dim lights coming through the front bedroom window and I had this feeling that some shadows were moving behind the windows. I felt a creepy shudder pass over me slowly. My pause turned into a short run. I reached the end of the street. The blood in my veins kept pounding as I kept looking back towards the house while on run. Just at the end of the street, there were two corner stores located, quite brightly lit. It was here that I was headed to for buying few things (I don’t remember exactly what I wanted to buy from corner stores). After completing my purchase, on my way back, I didn’t have the nerve to cross the empty house once again. I thought of taking the long route from the other end of the street by crossing over to the adjacent street. This again had its pitfalls as there was another empty house across that street too! This kept playing on my mind and I decided to take my chances and take the short route home. I closed my eyes and sprinted across the street (crossing the empty house) as fast as my young legs could carry me. I opened my eyes only after reaching the safe environs of my home. This sprint was the fastest blind run in my life. I could have given Usain Bolt a run for his money for the fastest 100 metres dash! My heart kept pounding and the blood gushed through my veins. I kept this incident to myself. I was ashamed to admit to my parents that I was scared. The next morning it was again the time to pass the empty house on my way to the shop. As was my habit, my eyes kept darting towards the empty house. I looked at the house through the corner of my eye. I couldn’t dare to look at the house directly as shivers were running through me. I didn’t see any activity happening in the house. The house stood empty as always! Nobody had occupied that house. I still don’t know if the play of lights and shadows that appeared behind the front bedroom window of the empty house that night were just the wild imagination or hallucination of 10-year-old boy or something else! 

Continuing on this incident, I had connected this “haunted house” phenomenon to the Hindi movie titled ‘Gumnaam’ which I remember watching in the late sixties or so with my parents. After watching this movie, I was quite convinced that ghosts did exist, after all, (though the movie plot said that it was the female character who was carrying out this charade to deceive somebody or the other). I don’t exactly remember the plot of this movie now. This movie with its haunting melodies preyed on my mind for quite a number of years. I was scared of going out alone on the streets late in the evenings. I used to come home before nightfall (after play) as I was scared of late evenings. This was the time when shadows creep due to interplay of light and darkness; I always avoided staying late outside the house after 7 PM. This timing of 7 PM was sacrosanct due to my irrational fears. The fears that I had developed as a young boy age had persisted into my late teens and even during my youth.

This thought leads me to another incident that left an indelible impression on my mind. I was posted to work in a village branch during my first stint after joining a nationalized Bank. That was my first exposure away from my close-knit family. This was a remote village in the rain-fed area of Malnad region in interior Karnataka. The village was notorious for its rains and coffee estates. There was hardly any accommodation available for rent in the village. On the very first day a colleague of mine who was also from Bangalore offered to share a huge old bungalow with me for our residence. The problem with this bungalow was that this was situated outside of the village limits, though hardly a 5 minutes-walking distance from the Bank branch. This was the last building in the village environs. There were no houses on either side of the building. The house was located on a very lonely stretch. Thick shrubbery had grown on either sides of the house. My colleague and I used to keep all the rooms in the entire bungalow locked up except for one room which we used as sleeping quarters. We didn’t have any cots to sleep. Just our basic rolling beds were placed at the opposite corners of one room, which we had occupied. Rest of the house was just left unused. The house had a tiled roof. As the house was quite old, we had got it at a very cheap rental bargain. My colleague who stayed with me was a courageous and smart person. I could see that from day one. He was staying there alone before I joined him in a sharing arrangement. Within a month or so after my joining the Bank Branch, this colleague of mine had to go on leave for a week to Bangalore. I was left all alone in this huge bungalow. It was the rainy season. Rains were copious that year. The night after my colleague left for Bangalore, I went back to my bungalow with a stout heart, mentally determined. I stepped in the house, heartily singing, wanting to mask the fear of what was in store for me during the night. The rains had commenced and were very heavy that night as if the skies had opened up. Water was dripping here and there inside the house, in the crevices between the tiles. The owners didn’t want to spend on repairs as the rent was too low. Rains drops were lashing at the windows which was making an eerie sound. I had finished my night dinner at a nearby village restaurant before retiring for the evening. The long night had begun! I could hear the hooting of night owls somewhere in a distance amid the rain sounds. My mind was in a twirl. I sat on my bed opening a book to read. I couldn’t concentrate. I could feel the blood rush across my spine to my head. My imagination had gone wild and was playing all sorts of tricks inside. I had kept the lights on through the night. There were power cuts in between. I lit some candles. The flames were casting long shadows and dancing to the movement of the wind from the gaps between windows panes. I could feel the shivers running along my spine. All the thoughts of ghosts and whatnot rushed through my mind! I could hear the slight creaking of doors as winds kept howling outside. This experience was like a scene straight out of a horror movie! The fear was so intense that I thought I would not last the night! I was fighting with all my strength and tried to keep up my spirits by singing loudly; I was trying to be as rational as possible. I couldn’t sleep the entire night and was totally awake with fear! What a night that was, I could still feel the shivers creep up my spine even now, as I write this! There was no TV or Radio or anything which I could switch on to spend the night. I kept looking at my watch every now and then hoping the morning would arrive soon which would end my nightmare! That was the longest night of my lifetime! When I went back to the Bank the following day after surviving the horrid night, my colleagues at the Bank were waiting to know my fate, if I had survived! They asked me how was my night at the “Booth Bangla”! That was the first I heard of the bungalow being called that. I was kept in the dark. All the colleagues at the Bank were very young and full of spirits. In fact, all of them knew about the bungalow and told me stories of how this “Booth Bangla” had been vacant for a number of years and nobody had dared to occupy for fear of isolation and its sheer size coupled with the poor maintenance of the house! I also later learnt that how a colleague who was earlier staying in that bungalow vacated the place within a week totally numb with fear! It appears my Bangalore colleague was the only one who had the gumption to move into this bungalow and continue to live there for some time. He had taken this up as a challenge and he had won the challenge. Coming back to my story, I did spend the entire week alone in this huge old “Booth Bangla”, I don’t know how I survived. Each night was a terror and nightmare! The toughest week of my life! But here I am, after so many years, still very much alive and kicking to relate the story! Despite surviving the ordeal, I wouldn’t dare call myself a courageous or a brave person! I didn’t stay long in the house after that particular horrendous week. One more colleague of mine offered to share his house which was bang in the middle of the village, where I later shifted and happily spent the rest of my stay in the village. My hero colleague who had stayed in that big old bungalow for may be 6 months or so shifted shortly thereafter. 

The only thing we have to fear is the fear itself!  Doesn't this explanation sound reassuring.   Psychologists have long hypothesized that the fear response have honed human survival skills by generating appropriate behavioural responses. Again evolution. How nice! 

A trip down memory lane

I strive hard to be useful and supportive to my family's wants and requirements, on a daily basis. I was happy to chip in for the daily household chores which includes all and sundry shopping, kitchen help, driver duty and more.  Else, you know the consequences cannot be exactly nice for retired home-bodies like me.  All my senior citizen friends desert me after the morning walking ritual. Perhaps, all of them have their responsibilities cut-out for them.  You see, I was not assigned any key responsibilities within my home.  Other than loitering around, within the confines of the home, I see to it that all things are kept in its assigned spot.  I have this OCD issue, you see.  So, what else anyone expects me to do, is beyond me.  After all, I am a senior citizen with limited capabilities.

Coming to the point, it was decided by the power-wielders that my important responsibility would be to bring my grandson from the School everyday.  3.30 PM on the dot, I had to be at the school doorstep.  I had agreed happily with alacrity and enthusiasm.  Little did I anticipate the pitfalls involved in this activity. 

While on the job of fetching my grandson from the School, it was a daily ritual with my grandson to gently guide me to a nearby stationery shop (FYI, the shop also stores children's goodies) for all the delectable goodies he desired for.  Yes, the very same chocolates, chips, lolly pops, ice cream and many other items that are all, generally, very harmful to the child's health and well-being.  My indulgent nature (please do tell me, which grandparent would not want to pamper his grandson), along with my penchant for being called a 'cool' granddad landed me in trouble.  My grandson developed tooth problems, digestion issues and other immunity health issues.  As is the case with daughters, I was deemed the culprit and an utterly useless grandfather.  I was almost banished from the only activity, I loved and cherished.  Nevertheless, I have a dogged personality.  I can put up a pointless fight sometimes, for equal rights between men and women! This created a huge ruckus, as the other senior lady of the house, joined in, for a strong triangular fight.  That's it.  I was done for.  Anyway, coming to the point, I was told to continue with the job, till a suitable replacement was found.  I am happy to report that I am still on the job with no worthwhile replacement found till the date of this writing.  But, mind you, the condition was, I had to desist from the mandatory attendance at the stationery shop.  The shop owner looks at me longingly with disappointment largely writ all over his face, as if I am a spineless character.  I feel sorry for him, as does he!

On account of my spinal surgery, I had to take a long break from my duties including the School job.  After the mandatory recuperation period, I was back at the School job.  On my first day post resumption of my duties, when I went to the School, with a 'walking stick' swinging in my hand and a spring in my step, the class teacher standing at the School gate challenged me to prove that I am the grandfather of my ward before the handover could happen.  I was taken aback, shocked at this affront by the beautiful School lady standing in front of me, looking at me with skepticism and suspicion as if I were a malevolent child  kidnapper!  What more could I do, here I was, pleading with this visibly angry lady informing her in my most polite tone that I was, indeed,  the grandfather of my grandson!  The lady was unmoved.  She demanded that I produce the identity card of the child.  Suddenly, the light bulb switched on and with a flourish, I produced the identity card, from the recesses of my trousers. I showed it to her with a triumphant smile baring all my remaining teeth. She appeared crestfallen.  I locked my eyes with hers, mustering as much courage as I could, given the circumstances, and asked her to handover the child to my care   I was beaming with triumph very much like the David in the 'David and Goliath' story! I had defeated the beautiful School lady.  What a great day, I thought.  Does this not require a celebration.  You bet!  On our way home, this time I gently guided my grandson to the goodies' shop and both of us enjoyed a huge bar of the most wonderful Cadbury chocolates. I was literally, floating in the seventh heaven, the entire remainder of the day!

Retirement blues'!

I had read the following lines somewhere on the internet and it had stayed with me, for its erudite lucidity in defining Retirement.

"Retirement is the reward after decades of hard work and an opportunity to spend more time with family, to travel, and to do all the things on your bucket list you wanted, but were too busy to do when you are working".

I do not know, if this is an acceptable definition to the common retired person.  It would probably vary from individual to individual. By and large, I think this exactly fits into my idea of retirement. 

During the working-phase of my life, I had never given a thought, as to, what would life be or what I would do, after retirement; always assuming that my life, as I knew then, would go on in an uninterrupted manner.   Little did I know that someday I would get old and bald; the little remaining hairs would get grey; the gaps between the teeth, widening despite the dental fillings; and above all, being not in real control of my own bladder.  Oh dear,  please hold on to your smile/smirk, there is more to come; beguiling and embarrassing physical health concerns coming soon to a theatre "(sic)" hospital near you.  The days of everything in life being hunky-dory would be long gone.  The most disappointing thing would be that the Company that employed you would no longer require your services; skillsets would age; technologies would change, or there would be a fixed retirement age (which is 60 years in India, now for most of the government and public sector enterprises including banks). After reality kicked in, and retirement was almost upon me, I realized, that on the day i submitted my resignation (I am using Resignation and Retirement interchangeably as my Resignation soon turned out to be my Retirement!) my name would just be a closed entry on the Company’s records. I would be merely acknowledged, as an ex-employee, on exit from the company. The Company which had, until the day prior to my last day at office, commended my work ethics and quality of work delivered; bestowing me with fancy titles, had overnight deleted my ID out of the systems and blocked out my physical access to all of their facilities. As I happened to visit my then beloved office the next day after my resignation, I had to request my ex-colleagues to log me in, using their ID and escort me to the department, which I had casually wanted to visit to bid my final goodbyes. All the admiration and respect I had commanded the day prior, amongst my colleagues, had vanished overnight into thin air. It was literally like, I had become a pariah or even more to the point, a persona-non-grata, with the Company that I had so cherished in my heart; for it had provided me with my bread and butter. 

During my working heydays, weekends and other public holidays were great fun, to go out with the family on social visits or reading or simply enjoying a lazy day at home. ‘Me-time’ and ‘sleep-time’ were always at a premium during those hectic working days. Mondays used to be drudgery, due to heavy traffic on the streets and workloads left over from the past week at office. Surprise was that the Immediate bosses and superiors used to reach office early on Mondays brimming with fresh ideas, displaying high energy and vigour; waiting to pick on and browbeat their subordinates with their new ideas.  Basing on my experience, work life, indeed was a real pain sometimes, especially as I was stuck in the middle management; sandwiched between demanding superiors and indifferent subordinates.

After years of waking up early in the day to an alarm clock, it was splendid in the first few days, post-retirement, to over-sleep for some time and wake up leisurely, with no particular place to go and above all, freedom from routine obligations. Life was great, no motoring to the office in the terrible traffic conditions, no bosses to get shouted at, no subordinates to deal with. Once the initial euphoria of the post-retirement life passes on, new challenges, arise. Many, new unforeseen factors come into play.

The biggest challenge would be on the home-front.  You heard at right!  Here goes.  People around you, resent your presence at home; especially the women folk (you guessed it!) because you are staying at home, like them, with them, in their hitherto unchallenged domain. Women folk, generally, do not like or want your presence, day in and day out, around the home space, that they have created, cherished and nurtured, over the years. I can understand their animosity; You see, it is, but, natural when someone who has not been home during the daytimes for years and decades together, suddenly comes alive and tries to mark his presence at home and edge/trip you over in the Kitchen, of all places.  Kitchen, is the sanctum sanctorum for women folk. How dare you, come in and spoil my dish, says the Lady of the house.  Ladies should surely have the rights to guard their fiefdoms. Please forgive me, I should not have had the temerity to say these things; just a slip of the tongue disguised as tongue-in-cheek humour?

After the initial challenges, as detailed above, on the home-front wane (you see, the famous Charlie Chaplin quote comes to mind, "Nothing is permanent in this world, including our troubles or worries or even irritations or fights"), then comes the new challenge of what to do with the rest of your life. People with extraordinary passion or energy continue with their life/career pursuits in line with their passions even after their formal retirement; however, for people with no particular skillsets, like me, the daily lazy routine bites. It is my considered opinion, that nature counter balances this state, generally, by inducing adverse health conditions such as diabetes, or high blood pressure or heart condition or/and something similar, to keep the retiree, busy in daily life e.g., counting colourfully packeted tablets, admiring bottled tonics of different types and sizes for time-pass, etc.  The retiree would have some new health challenges on hand to discuss and mope about with his retired group of friends in the neighbourhood parks; exchanging health related advice and discussing ad nausea, the present Indian political scene and current affairs. As the popular quote goes, ‘Time and tide wait for no man’, time swiftly marches on, relentlessly. It is soon time to say goodbye to the World, as we know it!  

Coming to my post-retirement plans, it had always been my dream that I would travel around the world and visit interesting places.  Come retirement, many of the post-retirement plans remain only on paper. Our travel plans kept on postponing due to one reason or the other; there was Covid; and then, some other work like marriages or engagements of near and dear ones, etc.  Despite all the impediments that came our way, we still managed to cover some places and a few countries on our bucket list.  Funnily enough, the bucket list is getting long and endless on a regular basis.  I am not sure, how things will pan out in my future. For now, let the contents of the bucket list remain a mystery.

The upside of this, however, is money to that extent has been saved, which would come in handy for a rainy day, especially if you are living off a Government Bank Pension, like me!

Ancient Indian Civilization - A mere conondrum or lost civilization

When I read about the human advances in various fields happening all around us, my thoughts go to the achievements/advances that had happened/occurred in India so long ago.  I believe, we have lost much of those memories in continuity as there were not much knowledge/interest in record keeping.  We have always been a civilization that did not believe in publishing or putting out our achievements in the public domain.  This is very much par for the course, based on how we think about ourselves as a civilization.  Haven’t we all wondered, at some point in time, about the ancient Indian civilization that was? How was the ancient Indian civilization really like? How far back does the ancient Indian civilization really date? What was it like to be living during those times/period? We keep hearing about the advances that had been made by the great Indian astronomers, political administrators, philosophers, composers, poets,  religious gurus who propounded various theories and doctrines during the ancient times; Aryabhata, Bhaskara, Kautilya, Buddha, Mahavira, Patanjali, Kalidasa and many other sages and wise men; the list is endless. There were many more extraordinary personalities and luminaries who had existed in the centuries gone by, of whose existence we have probably not heard and/or have never come to light. We are told that philosophy, science and spirituality/religions and many other disciplines like Yoga, evolved in India very much before the World knew anything about it.

All this is in the realm of our cultural heritage, we should be really proud of our accomplishments/achievements.  But then, how do we know all of this, the existence of these extraordinary people and their respective accomplishments, that it really happened? Most of it gleaned from texts/manuscripts on dried palm leaves (also known as Talapatra) and some verses and poetry by various other authors that were available to us after the Christian Era or as now it is commonly referred to as, Common Era (CE).   Some of this ancient history has been obtained by deciphering the inscriptions from various heritage sites, excavation sites, temples, caves, rocks, edifices, coins etc. Some of the ancient history is also obtained from published works of foreign travellers who had visited India during the centuries gone by. Two main travellers come to mind. Megasthenes the Greek historian whose work ‘Indika’ contained a brief history of India (around 298 BCE); and Huen Tsang the Chinese scholar who visited India in the 7th century. There may have been more. We have been told that the World outside of India were always in envy of India; they considered this to be the magic land and a land of plenty; they were in search of routes to reach this wonderful place.

I am amazed at the depth of knowledge and understanding of the universe the ancient Indians had mastered. Just look at the Vedas and Puranas. The Rig Veda had shaken the entire World. The Rig Veda itself is a profound literary work in Sanskrit consisting of thousands of hymns composed by different seers over different periods in time. The World has been in awe of this literary composition which dates back to thousands of years. Whilst the Indian scholars say that the Vedas may be around 6000-7000 years, the Western scholars tend to date it around 1500 BC i.e., 3500 years (was it purely for political reasons?). Makes me wonder why none of the seers who composed the Vedas did not feel prudent enough to affix a date on their compositions.  All the controversies could have been avoided!  Probably, they did not feel the need to preserve them for posterity as they did not consider their works to outlive their lifetimes.  It is also in the realm of politics that Aryan migration theory was propounded by Max Muller to appropriate the Rig Veda as the work of ancient Eastern Europeans (or some part of Europe or Southern Russia or wherever the Aryans were originally supposed to have come from as propounded by the European academics) who had migrated to India (as Aryans) and assimilated among the then prevailing indigenous native population before composing the Rig Veda.

Even Mahabharata and Ramayana which are the greatest epics that India has produced does not have a clear time and date. Encyclopaedia Britannica ascribes Mahabharata to the period 400 BCE to 200 CE. As per Encyclopaedia Britannica, Ramayana was composed in Sanskrit, probably not before 300 BCE by the poet Valmiki.

We are told that Sanskrit is a very old language probably some 4000 or 5000 years old depending on which version you subscribe, whether Indian scholars or Western scholars. Western scholars further subscribe to the theory that the origin of Sanskrit is rooted in some common European language, as it has so many similarities with Latin or Greek. It is not clear when Sanskrit language came into existence. We are told that the Sanskrit language has always been used for the purpose of religious and learned discourse in ancient India, in contrast to the language spoken by the common people which was Prakrit. If this is indeed the case, prior to the period of Sanskrit was there no other language or script that existed in ancient India for recording literary compositions, manuscripts, or any other communication? Was it probable that all literary work or compositions were passed on from generation to generation merely by word of mouth? The Indus Valley Civilization, Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro civilizations of which considerable number of sites have been found through excavations do not have a definite timeline either. These civilizations were not discovered until the 1920’s CE, and much of this civilization still remains a mystery. One reason the Indus Valley civilization is so mysterious is because historians have not been able to decipher their complicated written language called Indus Script. There are thousands of artefacts with 400-600 different written symbols. Most of these symbols were pressed into soft clay with seals. Indus Script symbols have been discovered in Mesopotamia, which suggests they maintained a regular trade with these civilizations. It makes me wonder why the Indian academicians or historians did not continue the research work on deciphering these symbols. How come even after so many years none of them have been able to understand or decipher it. It reflects poorly on our research work. We are totally dependent on Westerners, academicians or scholars or historians.

There are various theories on the demise or fall of the Indus valley and Harappan civilizations. There is nothing conclusive. While some theorists say that the drying up of the Saraswati river  (or did it really exist?) could be the cause of mass exodus and demise or fall of the civilizations, there are some theorists who say that the environmental factors such as changing climatic conditions, tectonic activity or flooding could have led to demise or fall of the civilizations. In a recent article, it is pointed out that though there exists evidence of climate changes during that epoch, but these climate changes may not be the cause of destruction of the Indus valley and Harappan civilizations.

If the ancient people of India had lived only in the Northern and North-West regions that included modern day Pakistan and Afghanistan (as many excavation sites are found in these regions), what about the rest of the Indian sub-continent. South India, East India, West India for example. Were there no ancient civilizations that existed in these regions? Archaeologists now claim that they have found an ancient habitation site near Madurai, which may have been an important settlement of Pandian era dating from 3rd BCE to 3 CE. Is it possible that similar ancient habitation sites existed in all the other regions of India, probably still buried underneath and yet to be discovered. If there were pockets of civilizations that existed in the different parts of India, there should have been some way they were all connected to each other. Otherwise, how else would one explain that the Vedas and Puranas are known to all the peoples of India, residing in various regions, South, East and West of India. All this remains a big mystery. Sanskrit should have been the common thread running through all the regions of ancient India. How else would one have learnt the Vedas and Puranas which were mostly composed in Sanskrit? There are also so many other classical languages such as Kannada, Tamil, Telugu that exist today, having an ancient history of thousands of years. Scholars say that many of these languages have some percentage of Sanskrit words in them. Be that as it may, there are so many questions that comes to one’s mind. For example: As per recent archaeological evidence, the Harappan civilization existed between 7000 BC and 1900 BC, and further that it declined completely by 1300 BC. What happened after 1300 BC? There exists a clear discontinuity between Harappan civilization and later Indian civilisation (due to lack of written records); There is no clarity on the manner of rise, stabilisation and eventual fall of the Harappan civilization; We are told that, at its peak, the Harappan civilization covered more than 30 per cent of the present landmass of the Indian Subcontinent (probably this included Pakistan and Afghanistan). If this is indeed so, does that mean that the 70 per cent of the rest of Indian Subcontinent landmass was uninhabited? Further, if we are to consider the Indus valley and Harappan civilizations as the forerunners to the later Indian civilization, how come the Rig Veda and other Puranas are not written in the Indus script. Where and when did Sanskrit come into existence. What is the link between Indus script and Sanskrit? Were the ancient Indian civilization with Sanskrit as their language disconnected from the Indus valley and Harappan civilizations. Were their different civilizations both running parallel and unknown to each other. Another conundrum.

Proscribing a date to the events and happenings that occurred in the ancient past (by scholars and archaeologists) is a difficult exercise prone to errors of judgment, prejudice and racial discrimination. Even the scientific dating technologies that exist keeps on undergoing advances and the estimated dates keep on getting revised. A new article published in Nature states that the earliest Harappan sites in India dates back to the 7th millennium BCE based on radiocarbon dating.

From all of the above, it appears that ancient India was a lost World (except for certain bits and pieces gathered through the archaeological excavations) as no decipherable records existed (or nothing has been found as yet) on the lives and times of people living in those centuries and beyond. Was it that the ancient Indian people of that period did not bother about posterity? This is a rather unfortunate commentary on the people of ancient India and does not truly reflect the advancement of society in the fields of science, technology, philosophy, religious discourse, etc.

The 'boss' man

Well, this blog piece is not about thrashing supercilious bosses, who seemingly undermine their subordinates by ‘bossy’ behaviour and what they deem to represent. I would rather give them the benefit of doubt as there is a section of staff members who do not stand up to the high integrity/expectations of Corporate’s standards nor do these people understand the need to do so. I have come across staff members having inflated egos with a ‘know-all’ attitude. Being ‘bossy’ in these situations is definitely on, else how would one make the subordinate listen to the big 'boss' man!  However, knowing when to put a stop to ‘bossiness’ and make efforts in enlisting the services of subordinates for the general welfare of the Organization is the key to being a ‘good’ boss. This I find lacking in some bosses who make a habit of being on their ‘bossy’ best behaviour at all times throughout their careers!

In saying so, I do not condone the behaviour of such ‘bossy’ superiors who go on harassing and admonishing their subordinates, ad-nausea, sometimes with little or no justification. I was the victim of one such ‘bossy’ superior who throughout my tenure in this particular organization had established a pattern of high handedness by constantly squeezing me out of promotions and salary raises. Perhaps, his whole attitude stemmed from a low self-esteem (including his personality which was short of average height!) that constantly kept him on tenterhooks, once the victim (that’s me!) came under his vice-like grip.

Right through my tenure in the Organization, it remained my constant endeavour to please my boss and be in his ‘good’ books! The pattern was clearly established from the very first day of my joining in this particular Organization. He used to keep a constant watch over me ensuring that I do not go over his head complaining about his behaviour to 'higher-up in hierarchy' bosses. It was clearly a lot of pressure on him too! This kept me amused sometimes seeing his discomfiture when I had the opportunity to meet senior executives in the organization. My boss had to keep a tight leash on me and dissuade me from attending senior level meetings so that I did not spill the beans! I enjoyed these meetings much to the chagrin of my ‘bossy’ superior, as there was a constant demand from senior level executives to depute me to these meetings for dissemination of first hand level of knowledge/skillset that was more useful for the discussions at hand.

There were all other kinds of amusements too being bandied about at work place from one staff member to another, the common ‘enemy’ and centre of discussion being, of course, the boss! There was constant back-stabbing scenarios being played out, rightly or sometimes without justification attributable directly to the boss! The fun was in dishing out stories (exaggerated, of course, to an extent!) to other members of the staff or even outside the Department. Sometimes the stories were carried over with added ‘spice’ to different 'peer' companies in the area. Thus, the common denominator was always the boss which made him a study in curiosity by 'peer' company bosses. This also gave him a reputation of being a ‘toughie’ among 'peer' companies, thereby enhancing his image (much to his advantage) and largely disappointment and chagrin writ on the faces of our staff members.

There was another level of comfort and satisfaction to me when my boss would hand out his terribly ‘bossy’ behaviour to other colleagues at work! There was a competition amongst us as to who is the number ‘one’ victim of ‘bossy’ behaviour from the boss during a given period! There was a general discussion that took place (of course when the boss was absent or he had closed his office doors for meetings!) within the work place to give out the victim number ‘one’ award along with deep ‘empathy’ and promises to provide voice support if there were to be a next encounter for victimhood. However, these situations never arose as the boss was smart enough to gauge the gist of discussions and carefully avoided to face the victim in the next few days much to general disappointment all around. There were many interesting encounters that took place quite often as years rolled by due to large turnover of staff members. One such interesting encounter baffles me to this day. The following episode proves my point that at heart the boss was really a timid person (or more of a coward?).

The episode in question happened on a bright day very early on a spring morning. A staff meeting had been scheduled for the day at 8 AM. All staff members had assembled in the meeting room with lot of enthusiasm as staff ‘bonus’ matters were to be discussed per the agenda. One staff member, when it was his turn to speak, boldly suggested an :out of the box' idea; this was seconded and supported by all other staff members in unison.  The idea was that the bonus amount allocated to the department should be equally distributed to all the staff members of the same cadre.  No distinction should be made on doling out the bonus based on the performance of the person, which according to our understanding was mere hogwash. There was complete unanimity and enthusiasm for the idea. This particular idea was against the boss’s grain and did not go well with him. He felt cornered out and his face had gone ashen white, as all colour had drained out from his face. Though in essence it was not an outrageous idea, as such, but the boss took it as an insult to him and he felt that there was revolt directed at him. Seeing him cornered all staff members were more enthused and pushed him to accept the idea, which he reluctantly agreed to implement. After the meeting, the boss locked his office door and was closeted with his immediate assistant for the entire day. He kept on ruminating over his defeat (he considered this as the worst day in his entire life!) and shooting out emails to all staff on various other matters. There was a very rare staff unanimity and all of them were in their best element. There was beaming all around staff tables, the unity of strength in numbers was clearly visible that day which had made the boss take a back seat and he felt defeated. This incident is still recollected by all the staff of the Office who were present on the day in question. It was a landmark day in the history of the Department!

I daresay that I am able to recant the above incidents without fear of reprisal, as I no longer work in the particular Company and even for that matter I am farther away from the country in question for a while now.

Three cheers to ‘bossy’ bosses! Looking back, I think there was so much fun and excitement, albeit a tough one, amidst such an extraordinary adventure.  It taught me some deep life lessons which, otherwise, I would not have had the opportunity to learn and grow. The biggest lesson I learnt during this period was letting go of the petty differences and apologising upfront for the mistakes that occurred advertently or inadvertently in the course of doing my job.  It just goes to prove the point that there is a silver lining in every cloud.