Work is worship!

 

 

 

I go back in time when “work” in any area was considered to be a form of worship.  Serious workaholics strongly believed in the time-tested  idiom, “Work is Worship” and toiled day in day out.  Most of these workaholics were “seen” to be good leaders and successful people.  The names of these people were often quoted, as shining examples to emulate and to motivate the younger generation to work harder.  For anybody who was seen taking a break or just relaxing in-between office work, their acts were considered blasphemous. Back in the eighties, during the early stages of my banking career, I had a nagging suspicion that the Bank had assigned some senior executives solely to keep a close watch on the young employees who had been recruited in hordes in all nationalized banks post the bank nationalization phase in the late sixties and early seventies in India.  Recruitment took place in banks in thousands, in the late seventies and early eighties, very much like the mass recruitment we see in IT sector and Services Companies these days. Coming back to the subject, I suspect, some of the senior executives in Banks were ordained by Bank management to go around their Head Office / Main office building in the Bank just to catch the youngsters in the act of chatting among themselves or standing near the staircases or loitering here and there or just “whiling away” their precious “work” time in the office canteens. I remember being remonstrated a few times by senior executives to go back to respective work stations and complete the “work” instead of wasting time.  Working late was considered the norm with employees putting in extra hours of “work” beyond their stipulated working hours.  Sitting late and working beyond stipulated banking hours would fetch the employees some additional marks in their annual appraisals which was deemed bonus marks for consideration of promotions to a higher cadre!

The youngsters in Banks who had been freshly recruited from various colleges had carried over their residual baggage in forming groups of like-minded individuals for sharing experiences and discussing their work-life occurrences standing near the staircases.  The atmosphere in the Head Office of the Bank was buzzing with activity.  Young people were seen milling all around the Head Office or their Main Offices with enthusiasm.  There was so much energy and freshness around the Bank environment, which is in sharp contrast to what we see in the nationalized Banks today.  Pardon me, while I say that most of the nationalized Bank employees today appear all too tired, dull and old, ready to pack up their bags at the drop of a hat, once and for all, either to opt for voluntary retirement or wait for attaining superannuation.   Since there was the mass recruitment of employees in the early eighties, now there appears to be the mass exit of employees occurring in nationalized Banks these days.

Coming back to the topic at hand, we hear the refrain “work life balance” being bandied about constantly these days; used synonymously with the IT sector and other services’ employees who work around the clock, 24/7, catering to their “clients” from around the world.  These days the term of yore, “work is worship” seem to be almost absent.  It is now all about teamwork and making greater use of technology.  Great ideas and inspiration seem to be the buzzword.  People have realized the darker side of slogging 24/7; with the pervasive poor lifestyle, related health issues cropping up; employees not having quality time for their families; and many other negative factors in the society catching up; to show up, the ill effects of working too much at the cost of their personal life.  Personal life gets disrupted with too much focus on “work” and nothing else, in between.  There has been such negative reactions to statements of business leaders urging employees to work 70 hours a week or 90 hours a week.  All but few agree with these kind of opinions and these leaders have been seriously bashed in the popular media including social media platforms.

“All work and no play make Jack a dull boy”, seems to be the mantra these days; in the process, companies are urging their employees to have a perfect work-life balance.  The big multinational companies, software, services and otherwise, have all provided for various facilities within their Headquarters each looking more and more like college campuses rather than companies where people need to “work” for generating profits for these companies.  Googling, "Google HQ" shows up Group cooking classes or coffee tasting arrangement for its employees; bikes are provided to employees to move around the campus; Cafes galore within the campuses; group fitness classes with A class Gym facilities and much more are provided to their employees.  Facebook (it's Meta now) HQ, on the other hand, have many other wonderful facilities for its employees; company store–filled with FB apparel and items; it seems they even have foxes on campus, real ones, with specially designated fox-habitat area, and the campus certified for wild-life; video arcade for employees to hang out; many fast food restaurants filled with burgers, pizzas, burritos, sushi, sweet shops, coffee shops, vending machines filled with snacks and beverages. All free. An interior swing for employees to “chill” in the playground near to the mini-kitchen.  Lots of electric cars in the parking lot.  Apple, it appears have designed their new HQ in a unique circular style reminiscent of their iPod, iPhone and iPad.  Their new campus includes a café for 3,000 sitting people;  surrounded by extensive landscaping, and offer parking both underground and a parking structure.  Media reports widely describe the new structure as "spaceship".  Other facilities include a 1,000-seat auditorium, 300,000 square feet of R&D facilities, a fitness centre; an orchard, and a dedicated generating plant as the primary source of electricity (powered by natural gas and other more environmentally sound means); with a gorgeous courtyard in the middle, and a lot more.  What else, next, you ask?  Your imagination is as good as mine!  With all these wonderful facilities’ available, now the question is where do the employees find time to put in their required “work” hours, in between all this recreation and fun?  Something to ponder over!

How times are A-changing.  The "workers" of the world, rejoice!  Sitting late in Offices is now considered passé.  What I mean is, late sitting just for the sake of it or to please the bosses is no longer the case!  Life seems to have come a full circle.   Workers, in general, who were once viewed with suspicion and had to be reined in to be more productive with catchy phrases such as “Work is Worship” as a means of motivation is no longer bandied around.  Retaining employees was unheard of, in our earlier days; there were no retention policies to retain talented youngsters by providing various state-of-the-art facilities, including but not limited to employee stock options.  Workers were considered mere “automatons” or “robots” working at the pleasure of the employers; the loyal “employees” of yesteryears were threatened with more stringent working hours and bad reviews if they did not “fall in line” with the management philosophy of work, work and more work.  It had been a mighty fall from their high horses for the employers/managements of companies!  Hold your horses, my dear sir.  There is still more surprises in store. With the coming of AI, who would require employees at all, when the systems could perform most repetitive tasks and complete a host of other tasks without demur or demanding higher salaries or perks!  Will the idiom "Work is Worship" still be relevant at all, in times to come. At least in the context of people working in offices and companies for 'X' employer/s.  Your guess is as good as mine!

The love affair with cars

My love affair with cars goes a long way back, right into my childhood.  Some of the old-timers in my family, a few of my surviving uncles and aunts, swear to a rather, funny story that when I was a young boy, perhaps, 6 or 7 years old, fervently pleading with my dad to drive home the cars that were parked on the road-side, when the owners of these cars were not around!  I was told that my dad had slyly remarked that since we do not have a garage at home, where do we park those cars.  Lucky for me that, in later years, I didn’t end up being a car thief and locked away for good!  Another of the family secret is out.

It was the early eighties.  We had no inkling that a car revolution was just around the corner.  The Ambassadors and Fiats (later Premier Padmini) were on the verge of disappearing into oblivion.  As a fresh recruit at the Head Office of our Bank, we young employees were awe-struck to watch the spectacle of the Bank’s senior management (or executives as they were commonly referred in my Bank), arrive in their Ambassador or Fiat cars and walk up the few steps at the entrance of the Head Office to reach their respective Offices or Departments on different floors of the Head Office building wherever it is they worked.  These senior gentlemen started arriving, one after the other, as if on cue, in a space of few minutes just before the clock struck 10’o clock (the Bank’s start time). The liveried drivers opened the rear door of their cars for these gentlemen and carried an assortment of files, hurrying after them.  This parade of the senior management arriving in their Ambassador or Fiat cars was a great spectacle to us young employees (we were in our early twenties then); we stood aside respectfully near the stairs or the entrance of the elevator mutely watching after them with some sort of reverence.  A few of the fresh recruits, who were slightly brazen enough, threw in a smile and Good Morning salute at them, while some of the timid ones like me, hurried furtively behind the top executives, avoiding their eye.   After the executive had vanished inside the building,  some of us looked pensively at the cars in which they had just arrived.  The cars, freshly washed and cleaned, gleamed in the sunlight; would be parallel parked and lined up as if in a fashion show, in the ample parking space by their respective drivers.

The executive cadre was considered a creamy layer in the Bank hierarchy because each position carried with it many perks and powers.  The allotment of a car was the foremost perk that attracted us, the younger Bank recruits.  The highest aspirations of the younger lot of us recruits those days were measured in terms of being provided a car by the Bank along with a liveried driver.   The lure of the Ambassador or Fiat car as a perk drove some of my colleagues to seriously think of taking up the tough promotion tests for getting promotions to higher cadres.  There was also a mad rush (considered premium posting) for getting a transfer to such of those branches which had a Bank car attached to it.   These cars were considered branch property and the senior most Manager or Senior/Chief  Manager was most likely to use it as his personal vehicle!

I remember a time, when the Bank’s Chairman & Managing Director had been provided with a Contessa sedan for his personal use.  Some of us youngsters, had rushed out in the middle of our office work with other like minded crazy colleagues from our work places, just to look at this car and feast our eyes on the new offering from Hindustan Motors. We were just used to watching with wide-eyed wonder, a Rolls Royce or some fancy, glitzy Italian sports car in glossy magazines or newspaper posters.  Not in real life, mind you!  The sight of a Contessa sedan in real life, right in front of us, was considered, indeed, our good fortune.  Anyway, for Hindustan Motors, the Contessa sedan was not a success, and it bombed badly at the car box-office!

Alas, my biggest aspiration of those days, to drive a Bank car, remain unfulfilled!  I was never promoted to the Bank Executive position.  That's a story for a different context and, perhaps, a different timeline.  Nevertheless, my love affair with the cars had ended, rather sadly, not unlike our story of Contessa from Hindustan Motors!

Even if, perchance, some dumb-minded benevolent philanthropist was to offer me a Ferrari or a Porsche now, I wouldn’t want to go anywhere near it!  I am writing this piece, read posthumously, as my love affair with cars has long ended, rather prematurely, don't you think! I am still very much alive and kicking.

P.S:  Tell me, who in his right mind, would like to drive a car in this crazy Bengaluru traffic?

Circa 2030, Bengaluru!

Circa 2030, Bengaluru!

There were numerous successful tests conducted by big tech companies on ‘Driverless Cars’ in US, that set of my imagination! Fast forward to Circa 2030, Bengaluru.  Population of Bengaluru has reached a cool 2 Crores; with the number of vehicles plying on city roads having crossed a Crore mark. Google, Apple and Volvo have come out with beautiful models of gleaming driverless cars; with several on-board computers and guided by satellite and GPS systems; each basic car costs a couple of Crores or more depending on the accessories; However, as India is recording a double digit economic growth every year for the past few years, the expanding middle class population is able to afford any number of such fancy cars. Not a far-fetched idea, is it? Would be an extremely likely scenario.

Looking at the other end of the spectrum, would the pace of development and infrastructure in Bengaluru have kept pace with the technological innovations of 21st century? I hardly think so.  The parties in power would have taken turns in ruining the State; further taking back Bengaluru to the brink of disaster. Roads would be more pathetic, covered with potholes; garbage and stink strewn everywhere; banners and posters of political leaders and their cohorts staring from every wall and pole, wishing and greeting each other; trees would have been replaced with huge concrete and glass structures dotting the city; existing few lakes would have given way to industrial waste and garbage dumps; stray dogs and cattle could be seen everywhere; summer temperatures would be seen hovering around 45-47 degrees centigrade, due to global warming, no doubt.

Tech engineers and specialist doctors would be back in India from US with the hopes of a good quality life in their home-country; no doubt impressed by the invitation given by the young Prime Minister of India!   Our Techie (let's just call him that, the hero of this piece) could be seen driving (or ghost-driven!) to his office in a silver gleaming driverless Apple car, from JP Nagar to White Field. The entire BTM layout Road stretch up to Silk Board is dug up on either side (for construction of Metro or widening of the roads or some such activity); the traffic is inching across every few meters and coming to a halt at every traffic signal. Our Techie’s driverless car with numerous built-in ‘sensors’ and computers on board is hardly moving; coming to a stop after moving every inch; no doubt ‘sensing’ some obstruction by way of pedestrians crossing the road, two wheelers criss-crossing his car, stray cattle and dogs strolling on the roads, mud-strewn dug-up roads; potholes coming up now and then. Our Techie sitting inside his AC driverless car is pretty ‘cool’ glued to the music playing on his headphone and the large TV screens in front of him; occasionally he is seen dozing off having woken up in the very early hours of the morning (8 AM) by his over-indulgent parents! The regular drivers in ‘driver’ driven cars that are following this Techie’s driverless car could be seen honking and gesticulating, urging him to move forward at a faster pace; no doubt not realising that this is a high-tech ‘sensor-driven’ driverless car! The car has a mind of its own with built-in intelligence; it doesn’t respond to any kind of pressure tactics including honking, gesticulating or shouting; whatever the external provocation or road rage, the car doesn’t respond! Cool car!

Our Techie’s driverless car weaves its way through heavy density traffic along the way, stopping for nearly 30 minutes at each traffic signal at various places on the entire stretch of its way towards White Field. Countless obstructions as already narrated above is encountered on the way, but our Techie’s expensive driverless car, being extremely smart and intelligent, navigates safely and reaches its final destination, White Field (no doubt, name of the destination has been tapped into the on-board computer by our Techie). Once the destination is reached, a voice-activated system (very much like Siri, Alexa) announces arrival of the destination. The doors automatically open; our Techie exits from the car and hurries into the office; the doors of the car get auto-locked! Beautiful. The car then moves on to park itself into the allotted parking slot inside the office parking garage.

No doubt, our Techie reaches his office very late; almost evening, the office closing hours of most offices in Bengaluru, India! But very much right on time to service his clientele in the US! It is still early morning in the US. No doubt, the cars were designed and built by US Companies based on their UTC time format! Fantastic!

The following day morning, our Techie is ready to leave his office (after servicing his US clientele) heading towards his home in JP Nagar. He taps the related app in his smartphone; commands his driverless car to pick him up from the office entrance. The car no doubt, activates itself, moves out from the garage and slides into the office front entrance. Our Techie is ready to embark on his journey back home. He has already tapped the destination in his smartphone app. The door automatically opens. He slides into the comfortable seats. The journey back home begins. The driverless car weaves through the wonderful Bengaluru traffic and safely delivers him home in the evening. After a wonderful rest and deep sleep in the comfort of his driverless car, our Techie feels nicely rested and happy! What a car! Technology is wonderful, isn’t it? Life is beautiful!

Remembering my Father

I have very vivid recollection of the time I spent with my late father who passed away some 50 years ago.  It has been a very long time, but I can still remember some of those wonderful moments, I have had with my dear father.

As I remember him, I believe my dad’s greatest virtue was his kindness and goodness of heart. He was a perfect example of what we call a kind and gentle human being. All those who knew him outside of the family thought him to be a thorough gentleman.  A very rare breed, indeed.  In those days, I had heard many tales from my friends and school mates the way their fathers used to treat them at home.  The fathers those days then, were generally very strict and taciturn, having very little patience when dealing with young boys. On the other hand, I take great pride in saying that my father treated me like an adult, as if I were on his equal footing. He never remonstrated me even during those trying times when I knew I was in the wrong and had tested his patience to the maximum. There was a lesson to be learnt from each of his actions. He even shared the details of his salary, home budget and expenditure with me though I was hardly 10-11 years old. When I was 15 years old, I became a sort of accountant to him. He made me realize the value of being thrift with family budget. Once my father had asked me to manage the family expenses for one entire month independently before handing over his entire salary for the month. This was his way of showing me the ropes, I think.  I did this for a month and I couldn’t do any better on monthly savings and expenditure than he could. I gave up and told him that I cannot manage any better than him.  This exercise was a lesson to me to understand the nuances of managing the family finances with limited income of those days. My dad was a great democrat at heart.

The thing I clearly remember about my dad was his suave good looks and his handsome countenance. He was always well dressed, looking impeccable in his sartorial extravagance. I could still visualise him in his suit and tie, immaculately dressed ready to leave for his office in the mornings, waiting for his office van/car, as early as 6.40 AM daily. Even when he was very sick and he knew his end was near, his dress sense never left him. When he was admitted to the hospital following a heart attack, before leaving for the hospital he had to get nicely dressed as if he were attending some important event.

His other passion was his extreme fondness for food. Food was more like a mission with him. His eating habits were unique. He had this habit of polishing off his food plate clean after every meal, not a single morsel of food was to be found left on his plate once the meal was over. As an explanation to this habit, we were told that food grains were very precious and scarce commodity those days as rationing of food grains were in vogue. I think the wars of 1965 and 1971 had left an indelible impression on people’s minds and taught them a valuable lesson not to waste any food. India was a food deficient country then; the green revolution was still years away. There was shortage of food grains in India and I still remember wheat used to be imported from USA. Whatever the reason, the lesson we were taught was that food was never to be wasted.

My dad loved eating Masala Dosas in local Restaurants. Masala Dosa was his all-time favourite snack. Restaurants were far and few then unlike today’s Bangalore where you have food joints at every nook and corner. But some of the South Bangalore’s old Restaurants like Vidhyarthi Bhavan, Mavalli Tiffin Room, Udupi Krishna Bhavan in Balepet, Hotel Dwaraka, New Modern Hotel, Janatha Hotel, have survived to this day. There was this Restaurant by name Gajendra Vilas in Chamarajpet, 4th Main Road which was an all-time favourite with our family of uncles and aunts. It has been closed for some years now. I used to accompany him to all these restaurants whenever he felt like relishing on his favourite snack. I was looking forward to this lovely treat which had become a sort of weekly ritual with us.  Doctors had advised my father to shun oily and sweet foods as he was a diabetic. Apart from diabetes, he had developed many other accompanying health complications like Hypertension, Kidney malfunction, heart problems, etc. Despite all these health concerns and doctor’s advice, my dad had this insatiable urge to fulfil his passion, which was food. He wasn’t keen to take up on the doctor’s advice seriously. He used to say that he would eat tasty foods to his heart content and die early rather than go without and live long.

His another abiding passion was playing Cricket and watching Hollywood movies. I was told that in his younger days (that was before I was born), he had this habit of watching Hollywood movies on a weekly basis. I remember my mother telling me that he was never home on Sundays during his younger days. He was always to be found in Cricket grounds or in some movie theatre. His chief raison d'être was playing Cricket and watching movies. His interest in later years turned to umpiring for Cricket matches rather than playing the game himself. However, due to his deteriorating health, all activities ceased gradually. I remember watching some of the hit movies of the time with him. I remember a few of them. Airport, Hatari, Fear is the key, Where Eagles Dare, Patton.

My dad loved to recant and regale us with stories from the great Indian epics, Mahabharata and Ramayana to my younger sister and I.  Whatever little knowledge I have of these great Indian epics is solely due to my dad’s story-telling efforts. During the summer evenings, post dinner, when the weather used to get hot inside the house, we used to sit out on mats under the open evening skies inside the compound walls of our home. My dad would engage us with stories from the great Indian epics; stories of the great Hindu saints and sages in great detail. There were so many interesting and unforgettable stories we had heard from him during those summer evenings. It was a delight listening to him in his wonderful sonorous voice.  This recanting of stories by my father had become a ritual of sorts in our extended family circle. When my cousin brothers and sisters visited our home during school vacations, they used to participate with us  enthusiastically enjoying the stories from my dad. More the merrier, we all enjoyed the session of my father’s story-telling efforts and had food served under the open skies by my mother on few occasions.

My dad was well loved and respected by his siblings. Being the eldest, he had as many as eight siblings; apart from three step sisters and a step brother. He was instrumental in keeping his family intact following his father’s death and his entire extended family was struggling to get two square meals a day. He never spoke about the struggles he had gone through.  His mantra was to live in the present and never brood over the past.  The past was over and done with.  There were many trials and tribulations he had undergone; many of which we never knew until after his death. Very much later in life, I heard from my uncles and aunts, about the struggles and pain my dad had to endure in his short span of life.

How I wish my dad had lived much longer to enjoy the good fortunes life had to bestow upon us in later years. Alas, this was never meant to be. But I have always felt his gentle presence alongside me, in so many of my endeavours. My grandma (my father’s mother) who lived on to a ripe old age had this to say about him. The huge cache of good deeds accumulated by my father had been bestowed on to his children in the form of God’s kind gifts and largesse.  Be that as it may, life has been very kind to me so far.

There is this saying from the local language which roughly translated says, ‘Good men are snatched away early in their prime as Gods love them too much and cannot stay without them’. This quote appeared to be so apt in my father’s case as I have not come across a gentler and wonderful human being in my life! He passed away quite early in his life but he has left us with many everlasting delightful memories of our time spent with him.  My utmost regret was that we did not have a proper photograph of my father to remember him by.  His memories are, however, etched in my mind and I can still remember him clear as a day and the sublime person that he was!

My tryst with Yoga

Yoga, in recent years, has reached the centre stage and has become one of the most popular and sought after, powerful routines across the World.  In recent times, it has come to the notice of human kind that Yoga is not only a superior form of exercise but also extremely beneficial to the mental health and happiness of people across the spectrum, irrespective of age / race / colour / faith.  Across the World today, people are practising the different forms/combinations of Yoga postures/asanas/mudras, which is, especially true with Western cultures.  

There was a time when Yoga was quite not as popular, as it is today.  I had my first initiation  into Yoga in the early eighties when I had just completed my studies and freshly got into employment.  I had a colleague in my work place,  who introduced me to Yoga.  During the times I am talking about, Yoga was not very well advertised.  The classes then, were run in the empty corridors of an ill-lit, impoverished Temple.  The Temple premises was a bit decrepit as there were not many patrons to fund the infrastructure improvements of the Temple which was situated in the environs of Thyagarajanagar area of Bangalore.  It suited us very well.  The corridors were fairly free in the evenings for conducting our Yoga activities.  Our Yoga Guru was a young man in his late twenties. The young Guru taught us some powerful Yoga asanas in a very cavalier manner, perhaps it appeared so, because our bodies were young and supple, and we could easily perform some of the difficult asanas.  We were all very enthusiastic about the exercise part of it and not so much about the technicalities or the correctness part of the asanas. Without much ado, we were able to learn some basic Yoga postures.  A few months into the Yoga routine, we had to discontinue the classes for want of a basic place to train.  You see, the Temple that we were practicing Yoga, had started its own renovation work and we were asked to stop our activities. We lacked the necessary dedication and devotion to find an alternative place for continuing the Yoga classes. So, my initial tryst with Yoga came to an abrupt end.   Looking back, I think, we just did not have the necessary perseverance and diligence for continuing with the craft.

I suppose, life has a way of providing us with second chances to experience the spiritual side of things which we may have lost out in our quest to acquire material things. Well, to put things into perspective, may be, one has to go through life experiences the hard way to learn the basic lessons of getting to be happy and following good personal life habits.

Fast forward to nearly five decades into the future. My tryst with Yoga somehow got reconnected again by one of those unforeseen events.

It all happened so very suddenly that I had no inkling of what was to come.  One fine morning, my body movements became numb and I had to be urgently shifted to a hospital for immediate treatment.  I was advised immediate surgery of my lumbar region. The surgery lasted a few hours, but the damage done post surgery was quite a long drawn process.  I was confined to the bed for a week and was advised to move around with the help of an attendant and a 'walker'.  There was the additional treatment advised to seek the help of a physiotherapist to hasten the recovery process.  The physio treatment was quite painful during the first few days but after a couple of months, I was ready to move on.  You see, I was diagnosed with an unusual condition characterized by the inability to lift the front part of the foot, aptly called "foot drop".  The front of the foot literally dropped on its own volition from the attached leg.  The nerves connecting my foot were damaged and they had to regenerate on their own; this can be a long drawn process; further complicating the issue was my age and the debilitating diabetic condition.  All in all, a long drawn recovery process.  This brings me to the topic on hand.  The Yoga therapy.

During my physiotherapy phase, I was finding the therapist totally ineffective and was looking for an alternative therapy; when it was suggested to me to try out Yoga therapy.  This is when it all began.  I was indeed very lucky to come across an incredible Yoga Guru.  I was initially hesitant and even reluctant to put myself through the Yoga routine as I had a typical notion that Yoga was just meant for ascetics or mystics! Not at all meant for me, a 66 year old patient with post surgical and other health complications.  I agreed to go through the therapy for the first few days, more out of curiosity and my wife's insistence rather than as any serious form of exercise that would improve my condition.  My initial experience turned out to be rather encouraging and I was increasingly getting bested by the routine as the days progressed. The Teacher made a vain attempt to teach me some of the Yoga prayers with even some home work to comply.   As can be expected, I was finding it difficult to even pronounce the tongue-twisting  sanskrit words in the beginning. The Yoga teacher struggled hard with me on my initial recovery stages by training me at my home on the specific exercises designed to strengthen my back (specifically the Lumbar region) and legs/feet. 

The Guru I am talking about was a very warm and kind individual, who had a great sense of humour to go with it.   She taught me the essence of all the varied forms of Yoga postures and mudras with a serious intent to repair my peculiar condition.  I really liked the way she helped me work hard with her easy demeanour and charming methods.  It looked simple when she showed us the complicated asanas but when as a matter of fact, it was difficult to replicate them on our own.  I can still recall her words "Hari sir, your face looks pinched as if you are drunk on castor oil, try doing the same asana with a pleasant face".  Truth be told, I am still trying hard to keep a pleasant face when twisting my arms and limbs in a rather complicated intertwined position!  I don't know how she does the complex Yoga asanas with composed graceful and svelte movements like a gazelle, combined with a happy and pleasant face to go with it.   I would rather gleefully watch her do them effortlessly rather than trying them do on my own!  In a lighter vein, it is rather that the young boys and girls of the Yoga class think that she is an Angel of sorts!  I would second that notion whole-heartedly as she has performed some miracles with the way she has made me try some really complicated Yoga poses using her enormous talents.  When I started attending her classes, I found to my dismay that I was the only male around; all other attendees were ladies of different ages. I felt embarrassed the first day but very soon I was made to feel welcome, more like a member of the family and even joked around as 'Krishna Paramatma'.  I feel overwhelmed and proud that I am able to walk on my own, without the aid of a walking stick or any other form of support now; which is largely due to the unstinted efforts of the Yoga teacher who worked very hard with me to enable me to regain my strength in my lower back region and my legs/feet.  

I bow my head in humility to this extraordinary person who has been my teacher and Guru in my second tryst with this wonderful Yoga routine.  

Let me end this narrative with a quote from the greatest of all, the Yoga Guru, the sage Patanjali himself:

When you are inspired by some great purpose, some extraordinary project, all of your thoughts break their bonds. Your mind transcends limitations; your consciousness expands in every direction; and you find yourself in a new, great and wonderful world. Dormant forces, faculties and talents become alive and you discover yourself to be a greater person than you ever dreamed yourself to be.

Hail Emperor Akbar!

Many of us would remember our school days with a tinge of nostalgia.  The days, when we, as school boys were carefree and life was great fun.  Well, some of the days were not really that good.  The bad days in school would be when we were asked to complete homework by the next day on a topic which we knew nothing or little about; we had to read the entire chapter or lesson in detail to undertake the homework; or when we were asked to stand up on the bench for apparently speaking to the boy seated next to you, while the fault was entirely of the other boy.  The other boy who actually spoke to you first would get away, while you would get caught while whispering back to him on his query or laughing at some joke the boy had cracked.  If you argued with your Teacher that the entire fault was with the boy sitting next to you, the Teacher would increase the quantum of punishment and the other boy would become your sworn enemy for betraying him and giving him away.  Well, the life of a young boy in school had its own peculiar impediments.  Who would know it, other than the young boy himself who had experienced it first hand.  Ask any young boy, if you don't believe me!

There were other times, when as a school boy, I wondered, why were we asked to memorise a complete poem and recite it in front of the class.  When the poem was clearly printed in the text book, what was the need to memorise and recite the same poem, once again.  If one made mistakes in reciting the poem, the whole class laughed.  When it was the other students’ turn to recite a poem and they committed some mistakes, we laughed louder to make them understand what the ‘shame’ part of it meant.

In the mind of a young school boy, ‘grown-ups’ were almost always a source of envy, because they did not have to attend school; they only had some office job to attend, where they paid you handsomely in return.  You could buy any number of ice creams or chocolate treats with the money earned and no one would dare question an adult on his choice of purchases. As a school boy, I always felt that the boys were at a disadvantage, compared to the ‘grown-ups’, who had everything going for them.  Of course, now as a ‘grown-up’, I feel differently; life as a school boy was the best of times, in one’s life.

I am reminded of an incident when I was in 4^th or 5^th standard; the class Teacher had asked us to enact a drama for the ‘School Day’ function.  One of the boys in our group took the initiative.  He knew the story of Emperor Akbar by heart and he had suggested that, we stage the drama of Emperor Akbar.  The boy who had taken the lead, wanted to play the main role of Emperor Akbar.  Most of the other boys in our group had no objection to this, as none of us had any experience in staging a drama.  Moreover, the boy who was to play the lead actor was taller and well-built, compared to the other puny little boys in the group.  One fine day, we all arranged to meet at the home of the lead actor.  The home of this lead actor, had an open porch in the front of his house.  This place was quite convenient to stage our drama rehearsals.  I had, albeit, reluctantly agreed that my role would be that of guard who would stand in front of Emperor Akbar’s throne.  My role had very few sentences to recite; hailing the Emperor, whenever he appears on the stage and announcing the name of the visitor to the assembly.  I had to loudly announce at the top of my voice, ‘Hail the Lord and Master, Emperor Akbar’ or something to that effect.  My role was to always remain as the main guard and attendant of Emperor Akbar.  I was told that my role is important as I would appear in every scene, whenever Emperor Akbar took centre stage.  I felt pleased when I was told this.  My role did not need much rehearsals, which was a good thing.  I did not have the patience to read through the drama scripts or dialogues and mug them up, word by word, at rehearsals.   We had prepared dialogues sheet, actor-wise, by writing down the dialogues on a page in the school note book.  Each actor had to memorise his part of the dialogues from the pages torn out from the school note book.

The rehearsals for the drama went on for almost a month.  We would diligently meet every week end, at the lead actor’s house and stage some part of the drama rehearsal.  I don’t remember we ever enacted the entire drama in one stretch.  The rehearsals were always in bits and parts.  After enacting a few scenes, we would soon get bored with the drama rehearsals and sneak out to play, Cricket.  We were more interested in playing Cricket rather than enacting the drama rehearsals.  All the boys in the group were of the outdoor type and excelled in physical sports rather than displaying dramatics skills at school functions. We, however, assiduously practiced the drama rehearsals, though we were not sure how the drama would be received by the audience.

We were asked by the school Principal to stage a dress rehearsal with the basic props required for the stage, including dresses to be worn by the characters.  We had arranged to rent out some dresses for the characters in the drama.  A decorated chair was arranged for the throne and I remember that I had taken out some flower pots from my home to be kept before Emperor Akbar’s throne.  There were more number of drama entries to be staged from participants of other classes too.  The school Principal, had agreed to watch the dress rehearsals of all the dramas, before giving his approval of the final play/drama selected to be enacted on the function day.

On the day of the dress rehearsal, we were all called on to the stage to display our dramatics talents.   We staged the play of Emperor Akbar in the presence of school Principal, although during the play, some parts and bits were totally forgotten by the drama actors.  There were some awkward silences and few slip ups.  We were all told to speak in a loud voice as there was no microphones on the dress rehearsal day.  I clearly remember that I had shouted at the top of my voice, hailing the Lord and Master Emperor Akbar; my voice had boomed through the empty hall.

We, the actors of the future, were all waiting with bated breath for the Principal’s final approval, which was to be announced the next day on the school notice board.  When we did not see the name of our drama on the notice board, we were all crestfallen.  All our efforts in enacting the great drama of Emperor Akbar had gone down the drain.  We did not have the resourcefulness to meet the Principal again to put forth a request for reconsideration of his decision.  After seeing the plays of other classes staged as part of dress rehearsal, we knew in the heart of our hearts that, our play simply, did not measure up.  We were disappointed that the careers of all the budding actors of our drama had come to a premature end.  Hail the Lord and Master Emperor Akbar! 

Millionaire Dreams!

Millionaire dreams

Stock market pundits have great aphorisms to explain the fall in market indices and especially in the aftermath of a market crash. Among different explanations, I came across a beautiful expression by one Analyst. He had said, "The bubble has burst; Stock valuations have gone down under; Market correction was due anytime; The market is a great equaliser, etc".  Great sound bytes! This explanation looked impressive to me. The following day, the newspapers were full of doomsday predictions informing their readers that the market crash had dissolved the overall investors’ wealth and made them poorer by a few millions or billions! It appeared to me that the market analysts and journalists were mocking at the equity market investors and did not want them to sleep well!

It left me wondering how does the stock market really work? Does anyone know when there would be a rise or slide in the Market Indices? Some of the stock markets around the World reacts to every small or minor event, let alone huge events like election results, earthquakes, floods, fire etc.  This affects every other stock market around the world as all markets are connected.  When would the bulls play out or when will the bears have a field day? As a layman, I was impacted by the market behaviour when I looked at my paltry portfolio! Most of the days, there would be a big dip in my portfolio (though the market indices had gone up!) or whenever I was lucky (which was very rare, indeed), I would see a marginal rise in my portfolio, much to my glee! My Advisor proudly says that ‘wealth’ can be built only when we stay invested in Equity Markets, deep and long; citing the example of Warren Buffet or still better the Indian stock market bull Rakesh Jhunjhunwala; driving upon our millionaire dreams! Or in Indian terms ‘making us Crorepatis’!

I wondered, how deep and long one should stay invested to make a decent profit (say 10%, which I am very content with!). Well, in the words of my Advisor one should stay put in the market for long years or even decades! He related an inspiring story of how one of his clients invested in ‘Infosys’ stock for a few years and today he is a Crorepati! I truly believed him, impressed. Advisors do not want us to ditch them in between snatching away their hours of hard work in mesmerising us by selling big dreams!

Hours and hours of Television prime time is devoted to discussions on the market behaviour with market pundits having a field day in their technical analyses’ of stocks and world markets! It gets to be an addiction for a layman investor to watch the TV discussions go on, to and fro amongst the panelists of distinguished experts. Latching on to every spoken word by these wonderful analysts gives us a ‘pumping of adrenaline’ adding to the excitement of a market opening day. Beautifully worded technical statements are bandied about by the Analysts to the excited TV panelists; ‘Market fundamentals are weak / strong’; ‘Global scenario is playing out’; ‘Panic has gripped global markets after China’s sharp slowdown and currency adjustments’; ‘Commodities are driving the markets/weakening; ‘Chinese markets have opened weak’; ‘Greece default has spooked the markets’; ‘DOW and NASDAQ closed strongly’; the list goes on. Sounds nice! I have always wondered, where do the market panelists get such wonderful brainwaves with such superior confident conclusions on the market behaviour! How can we poor laymen understand what the market pundits know for sure! When the market closes for the day, these market pundits and panelists are nowhere to be seen, as the markets would have behaved exactly the opposite of what was predicted by them in the morning! The TV channels would have made their money (by switching to innovative ads in between shows) and nobody is the wiser! When the market closes for the day, the TV host would be recapitulating the day’s indices’ movements and preparing the grounds for the next day, without a word on what was discussed by their wonderful panel just a few hours before. The next day is the exact repeat telecast with more number of distinguished panelists coming on to the TV studios and sharing their wonderful stock investment tips and market predictions with us dumb investors!

After watching umpteen number of TV shows, latching on to every word spoken by these great market pundits, analysts, panelists, and all other sundry market players; it dawns on me that nothing is really sacred anymore. It is business as usual for all the TV channels, market strategists and all those involved in selling the ‘millionaire dreams’ to us poor laymen investors holding dearly on to our measly shares of few companies, here and there!

As my portfolio was not going anywhere, I decided it is time to seek some expert advice. One fine morning I called up my Advisor asking him to help in “rejigging” my portfolio. The Advisor promptly arrived. He made me sell some dud stocks (which I had foolishly held on to hoping it would revive soon!) and buy some ‘midcap’ and ‘largecap’ stocks to reinvigorate my portfolio. He explained that I should keep on revisiting my stocks every now and then to ensure that my portfolio stays healthy. After the “rejigging” of my portfolio with the help of my Advisor, I kept a close watch on the stocks, daily calculating the returns on my investments. This went on for some time when I thought that I had really ‘turned the corner’ and was on my way to becoming a millionaire! By God, how wrong I was. The bull market phase was over and the bears had taken hold of the stock market! My stock valuation dove straight down gradually, following the well tread pattern! I was back in the ‘all-too-familiar’ situation. I called up my Advisor, he reassured me that this phase is temporary and this is a minor correction; soon the stock market would be back in the hands of the ‘marauding’ bulls! He assured me that there was a huge expectation on India story achieving the highest growth rate in the world! He also assured me that more “rejigging” of portfolio may be needed once the stock market is handed over to the bulls!

I am sharing the optimism of my Advisor and that of my Indian Government on our Country’s growth story. We will register a double digit growth soon! Equity market will surely give me handsome returns; I am still holding on to my ‘dear’ stocks as if my life depended on it! I am hoping and keeping my dreams intact that one day I shall also be a millionaire or more aptly a ‘crorepati’. When my Advisor’s client (real or imagined, I am not sure) can become a ‘Crorepati’ by holding on to only one Company’s share, why can’t I?

Happy dreams with “Bulls” leading from the front. On my way, to becoming a Millionaire!  Will the dreams come true or the bubbles burst.  Only time will tell!

Reincarnation

Reincarnation

The concept of reincarnation has always intrigued and fascinated man.  It had brought many people into its fold over hundreds of years of human existence to alter or reinforce their belief system. One would expect that the reincarnation theory to be in vogue since time immemorial but it appears that this belief system has existed only since a little more than a couple of thousand years. This belief exists in different organised religions across the world mainly eastern religions (apart from the Hindu faith) such as Buddhism, Jainism (albeit in a different form). Hindu belief system or the Sanathana Dharma which encompasses a wide range of belief systems was the main proponent of this concept through the Upanishads. There is no mention of reincarnation as a concept in the Rig Veda, the oldest written document to be found till date in human recorded history. Rig Vedas are believed to have been created by a series of enlightened Sages, sometime between 3500 years ago and 5000 years ago. The Vedas mainly consist of offerings and communion with the gods (Agni, Indra, etc.), attained as a result of various sacrifices offered with the chanting of hymns. The Upanishads which were thought to have been composed between 800 BCE and 500 BCE, were probably the first to propound the theory of reincarnation. The Upanishads had started to question the traditional Vedic religious order and an attempt was made in these texts to shift the focus of  spiritual life from external rites and sacrifices to internal spiritual quests in the search for answers.

Reincarnation as a concept is attractive as it provides an explanation about the differences that exist among people such as those that are born very rich or in dire poverty or in various diseased or deformed human conditions that one is born into. It is not under one’s control how one is born into this world. Some have success without being religious, others are constant losers, despite their religious adherence. If one is born in a poor family or one is born a leper or with some serious deformity, reincarnation explains that these are the results of past actions in previous lives. The bad deeds of the previous birth are passed on to this birth, thereby explaining away the unfortunate circumstances that one has to endure in the present life. On the other hand, reincarnation concept is also another way of negating the monotheistic teaching of the final judgment by a holy God, for sinners to be condemned to suffer in eternal hell. The reincarnation theory motivates a person to do good deeds in the present life so that the benefit can be reaped in the next life.

Similarly, if one has to attain good births in future lives, one has to commit or do good karma in their present lives. The concept of Karma, which literally means “action”, is the idea that all actions have consequences, good or bad. Karma determines the conditions of the next life, just like our life is conditioned by our previous karma. There is no judgement or forgiveness, simply an impersonal, natural and eternal law operating in the universe. Those who do good will be reborn in better conditions while those who are evil will be reborn in worse conditions. Perhaps as an animal, perhaps as a human, perhaps as a god, but always in a regular cycle of deaths and resurrections.

As a necessary aid in explaining the reincarnation mechanism, Vedanta explains the concept of a “subtle body” (sukshma-sharira) which is attached to atman or soul as long as its bondage lasts. This “subtle body” is the actual carrier of karmic debts. The facts recorded by the “subtle body” are a sum of hidden tendencies or impressions (samskara) imprinted by karma as seeds that will generate future behaviour and personal character. They will materialize unconsciously in the life of the individual, without giving one any hint at understanding his or her actual condition. There can be no form of transmitting conscious memory from one life to another, since it belongs to the world of illusion and dissolves at death. In the Samkhya and Yoga darshanas, the entity that reincarnates is “purusha”, an equivalent of atman or soul. Yoga Sutra (2,12) defines a similar mechanism of transmitting the effects of karma from one life to another, as was the case in Vedanta. The reservoir of karmas is called “karmashaya”. This deposit of karma merely serves as a mechanism for adjusting the effects of karma in one’s life.

Passing from one life to another life is like the shifting of a dream. In between births, the individual soul spends time in the astral regions, sometimes just wandering and frittering time away, and sometimes in learning and evolving so the next life will be better and wiser than the previous one. This time spent in this intermediate state can be anything from a matter of hours to centuries and even thousands of years. This is precisely determined by one’s karma.

Bhagavad Gita (2:18-21) says, “Bodies are said to die, but That which possesses the body is eternal. It cannot be limited, or destroyed. Some say this Atman is slain, and others call It the slayer: they know nothing. How can It slay or who shall slay It? Know this, Atman is unborn, undying, never ceasing, never beginning, deathless, birth-less, unchanging for ever. It is within all, and it is without all.” Further, “Just as the self, advances through childhood, youth and old age in its physical body, so it advances to another body after death. The wise person is not confused by this change called death (2,13). Just as the body casts off worn out clothes and puts on new ones, so the infinite, immortal self, casts off worn out bodies and enters into new ones (2,22).

There are many accounts of death or near death related experiences by people that have led many to believe strongly in the concept of reincarnation. Brihadaranyaka Upanishad (4:4:1,2) explains that “The person in the throes of death neither sees, nor smells, nor tastes. He does not speak he does not hear. He does not think; he does not know. For all the organs, detaching themselves from his physical body, unite with his subtle body. Then the point of his heart, where the nerves join, is lighted by the light of the Self, and by that light he departs either through the eye, or through the gate of the skull, or through some other aperture of the body. When he thus departs, life departs; and when life departs, all the functions of the vital principle depart. The Self remains conscious, and, conscious, the dying man goes to his abode. The deeds of this life, and the impressions they leave behind, follow him.”

Shvetashvatara Upanishad says that, “Reincarnation is the practical way in which one reaps the fruits of one's deeds. By means of thought, touch, sight and passions and by the abundance of food and drink there are birth and development of the (embodied) self. According to his deeds, the embodied self assumes successively various forms in various conditions.

The Puranas provide a clearer picture of the specifics according to each kind of “bad acts” or "sin" one commits. For example, Garuda Puranas (17,50-57), states that, “Those men who are intent upon wisdom go to the highest goal; the sinfully-inclined go miserably to the torments of Yama. Thus the makers of bad karma, having experienced the tortures of hell, are born with the residues of their sins, in these stated forms. Then, obtaining for thousands of lives the bodies of animals, they suffer from carrying burdens and other miseries. Having experienced as a bird the misery of cold, rain and heat, he afterwards reaches the human state, when the good and evil are balanced. Birth and death are the lot of all embodied beings; thus turns the wheel in the four kingdoms of beings. As the wheel of time turns, so mortals revolve by my magic. They revolve at one time of earth, at another in hell, held fast by the noose of karma. He who does not mike gifts becomes poverty--stricken and through poverty he commits sin; by the force of sin he goes to hell, and is again born in poverty and again becomes sinful. Karma which has been made, whether good or evil, must inevitably be suffered. Karma not suffered does not fade away even in tens of millions of ages.”

Similar specific punishments are stated by The Laws of Manu (12, 54-69). As the karmic debt one recorded in the past is considerably large, a single life is not enough to consume it. Therefore, in order to attain liberation, many lives become a necessity. The external intervention of a god or a human guru is useless since it would compromise the role of karma.

In order that one can be “rid of” or “escape” the cycle of births and deaths (i.e., reincarnation), one has to attain the highest form of self-realization that is possible in highly evolved beings. This is the true and ultimate realization of a soul or atman. Brihadaranyaka Upanishad (4:4:6) says that “But he in whom desire is stilled suffers no rebirth. After death, having attained to the highest, desiring only the Self, he goes to no other world. Realizing Brahman, he becomes Brahman.”

In the Bhagwad Gita, Krishna says, (Chapter 8, Verse 16) “from the highest planet in the material world down to the lowest, all are places of misery wherein repeated birth and death takes place. But one who attains to My abode, O son of Kunti, never takes birth again” and in (Chapter 2, Verse 13), “as the embodied soul continually passes, in this body, from boyhood to youth to old age, the soul similarly passes into another body at death. The self-realized soul is not deluded by such a change.”

Retentive memories!

Retentive memories!

I am sure most of us would wistfully look back on our childhood years with a sense of longing. The wonderful times that we had, as children, would be stored as a beautiful memory somewhere with in the inner recesses of our brain. Some early memories are more likely to survive than others say researchers. As examples, the researchers cite, is a memory that carries a lot of emotion and the other is a memory connected with the injuries sustained during childhood. I believe my brain has stored similar such memories from my childhood as I can recall the exact sequences of such events, to this day!

One such incident from my childhood that is still fresh in my mind is related to the injury mark that I sustained on my right temple.  I may have been around 10 years of age, when this incident occurred. One evening I was waiting for my playmates, leaning on the front gate of my house watching the street for signs of any boys who would be interested in playing with me. Meanwhile, my attention was caught by an ass ('donkey' for the uninitiated) munching some newspapers strewn around the garbage bin. Those days a concrete circular garbage bin (with the marking B.C.C) used to be placed on the footpath near the houses. One such garbage bin was placed on the footpath near to my house. As was usually the case, the garbage had piled up and was overflowing, spilling on to the streets. The ass looked quite happy investigating the contents of interest thrown around the garbage bin. There was this naughty boy living next door who was also a half friend of sorts. What I really meant was that this boy was an on-and-off friend.  He was friends with me when no other boy was around.  When others friends were there, we largely ignored each other. This was the extent of our friendship.  This on-and-off friend was standing near the gate of his house watching the ass munching away, as was I. This was the scene. This boy was not interested in playing with me. He was more interested in the ass. You see, this boy was something like the legendary Arjuna.  While Arjuna the warrior was an expert archer, the boy I am referring to was adept in throwing pieces of rock (or stones in the local parlance, let us not get into semantics here) at animals and other inanimate objects. He considered himself the present-day Arjuna.  But most of all what he loved best was aiming the rock pieces at animals; this gave him immense joy as the animals scampered away in fear.  

I digress.   Coming to the point, this boy looked at the ass and the ass looked at him askance rather non-chalantly while munching on his favourite snack, the newspaper.  This evening, as was his favourite pastime, while looking at the ass, a bright idea had stuck this naughty boy.  He was determined to make the animal feel miserable. There was a piece of rock lying nearby.  The rock was beckoning to him "pick-me". He could not resist the temptation; he promptly picked up the piece of rock and aimed it at the ass and hit it squarely between the legs. Our modern day Arjuna's aim had struck home.  However, our ass had thicker hide; it did not flinch. The ass did not mind the rock thrown at him and made no effort to stir from its place. This infuriated the boy further.  The boy was anything, if not made of stronger mettle.  His next unflinching aim was directed towards the head of the animal to wake it up from its languorous stupor. Spoiler alert.  This time his aim faltered slightly and the rock missed the intended target. How could he miss such a simple target, he thought.  If Krishna or Dronacharya were to look upon him at this point, they would have been sorely disappointed in him, their foremost disciple missing the target by a wide margin.  However, the rock had hit another unintended target.  Only instead of striking the animal's temple region, it had hit my right temple region. narrowly missing my eyes.  The angle between me and the ass was just a few degrees apart, you see. That was what the boy had miscalculated or calculated (I am not sure, may be, he thought I was another animal) while taking his aim. A sore point for our modern day Arjuna, indeed.  I screamed instinctively as I was bleeding profusely. As soon as the boy saw the damage that was done, he immediately disappeared quietly inside his house. This was not what Krishna had taught Arjuna; running away from the battlefield.  But our boy, remember was not the great archery warrior Arjuna was!  

My screaming continued vociferously as the pain had become unbearable. My mother heard my screams and came out. Amidst the hullabaloo, I explained as best as I could as to what had actually transpired pointing out to the boy next door. Without much ado, I was immediately rushed to the nearby clinic. Some stitches were required to seal the cut on my right temple.  The wound on my right temple had left an indelible scar in its wake which is visible clearly to this day. I heard a funny jibe from one of my Uncles that the naughty boy next door had mistaken me for the ass that I was and had aimed it quite well!

It is funny that one can remember the bad times more than the good times. I had to bear the responsibility (at least I thought so at that point of time) thrust upon me being the eldest child of my parents. I remember it was my job to carry out minor purchases (buying green chillies, coriander, curry leaves, lime, tomato etc.) from a nearby retailer, which was always a source of irritation to me. There were similar mundane tasks assigned to me in my younger days as I was the only young free 'male' in the house. The other task was going to the 'flour mill' carrying rice and wheat for grinding into flour, which I literally hated to my bones. This reminds me of an incident that is still fresh in my memory. As usual I was given the task of going to the 'flour mill' and getting wheat grains ground into flour. I insisted my sister also accompany me. We were both very young. May be I was 8 years old and my sister younger to me by 2 years. While on our way, the bag of wheat which I was carrying unfortunately slipped and much of the wheat grains fell on to the ground. My sister and I salvaged as much wheat grains as we could from the ground. In the process we had picked up some sand grains too. We were shocked and scared of what had occurred, accidentally though. We decided not to go back home with the unground wheat. It was the feeling of guilt and cowardice in my mind and I was not ready to face the consequences of my actions. So we trudged our way towards the 'flour mill' hoping that the mill worker would not notice anything. We were lucky, indeed.  The mill worker did not notice anything amiss. I think he was plain bored because, he had just ground the wheat along with the sand particles that had been scooped up from the ground, into fine sand dust mixed with wheat flour! The resultant flour was darkish brown in colour. We went home and delivered the bag of wheat flour, all innocent, without a word on the incident! Nobody looked into the bag of wheat flour immediately. May be after some time, my mom should have transferred the contents on to the big container in which flour is usually stored without suspecting anything. Being scared and ashamed of the incident, I told my sister to keep quiet and not to disclose the incident, ever. We were anxiously waiting when the wheat flour would be next used for preparation of chapattis. Luckily for us the whole week passed without chapattis being made. We thought that the incident was behind us.  How wrong we were.  Nothing goes wasted in our household.  The dreaded day had arrived. Even while mixing the chapatti flour my mom suspected that something was wrong.  She was murmuring that the flour was grainy and overly brownish dark. My sister and I looked at each other with mixed emotions;  guilt and fear, writ large on our faces, but we kept our cool; quiet and apprehensive. Once chapattis were prepared and served, the ensuing scene is a blur.  Being children, my sister and I were the first to be served with the sand infused chapattis. We ate it without murmur though the chapattis were grainy and tasted of sand. When it came to my dad's turn, just one bite was enough for him to guess that something had occurred. He inquiringly looked at me. I looked at him askance without meeting his eye. Feeling guilty and finally ready to face the consequences after the long drawn out suspense, I had decided it was time to come clean. I blurted out the incident masking that it was my fault all the way, trying to pin in it on my innocent sister! The chapattis that had already been prepared went into the dustbin! My parents were angry that all the good wheat flour was wasted. This incident appears silly and naïve now. But as kids, we felt ashamed and guilty; we tried to hush up the incident without taking our parents into confidence. However, as a lesson learned the hard way, my sister and I had to eat those grainy sand infused chapattis; the price we had to pay for trying to hush up the incident!

Looking back, it appears that my childhood days were numbered right from start. The period was a turbulent one, as my father (I was very close to my father) was very sick with many health complications plaguing him from his fortieth year onwards. My childhood recollections are mostly filled with memories of accompanying my father to clinics and hospitals for his treatments, in the hope that there would be a turnaround in his health condition. This was not to be. His health deteriorated and the biggest disappointment came when my father passed away soon. He was around fifty at that time. I was barely 16 years old. I felt as if the whole world had come crashing down on me. That was also a turning point in my life that made me realize that my childhood days were over and I had big responsibilities to fulfil. It had taken a while coming but the price was too steep to pay!

A Class Reunion

A Class Reunion 

A School friend of mine for over 6 decades (you read it right!) got in touch with me and invited me for breakfast at a nearby eating joint along with another School friend of mine (we were mutual friends for over 6 decades!).  Well, long story short, we three friends decided to meet.  This was not very unusual.  We had been in touch off and on;  only that we were busy with our own lives and had never found the time to meet at regular intervals.  Only the breakfast meet did not materialize due to some indeterminate reason. But there was a huge promise in the air.  Spoiler alert.  There was some backchannel talks going on to rope in more number of School mates for a reunion of sorts.  Presently, lo and behold, a firm date and time was set for the grand reunion of a dozen or so School mates.  The venue was proposed by a senior arranger and agreed upon by all the reunion group members. There was an unanimous chorus that the Hotel agreed upon would be well suited for the purpose.  

The time: 4 PM

The Venue: Hotel Anantha, Jayanagar 4th Block 

Directions: Click on Google GPS link

All set for the grand reunion of Class mates of Holy Christ School batch of 1970.  

Finally, the  propitious day of the grand meet arrived. It was early November and good old Bengaluru was getting cooler by the day.  There was a nip in the air, announcing the onset of Winter.  Weather was glorious. The weather gods had smiled down upon us.  The azure blue sky was spotless, not a speck of cloud anywhere in sight.  The school mates started arriving at the venue.  Hello, said the first mate to arrive and warm greetings ensued.  More and more mates started arriving.  There were firm handshakes and few warm hugs going around.  The School mates had not seen each other for 54 years, to be precise.  Were there any surprises.  You bet, there were. All the cute, sweet baby faces of yore (I mean the School days) had wizened out; the smooth and flawless skin had given way to signs of ageing.  Truth be told, many of the class mates had become grandfathers and grandmothers.  I couldn't recognise a few of them.  But this was par for the course.  Few of the mates had stayed in our School for only a year somewhere in between the middle school years.  There was a flutter and our main star attraction had arrived.  I wouldn't dare say the name of the person.  It is anybody's guess.    We all moved in a file to the inner seating area of the Hotel.

The chattering of the school mates continued unabatedly after they were comfortably seated in the cool Hotel climes.  The old School mates had becomes young boys and girls once again reminiscing on their past memories.  There was the customary round of introductions; and each of them talking about themselves revealing their life stories.  Many of our mates had achieved high degree of success in their lives with extraordinary achievements to their credit.  We toasted them, applauding their hardwork and perseverance.  

The appearance of a latecomer to the gathering created a palpable excitement in our midst.  The mate turned out to be a handsome gentleman with impeccable manners.  He had brought a sweet and snack packet along with him, which he meticulously went on distributing to each member of our group.   We were all excited and the latecomer forgiven.

In between these beautiful interactions between the old boys and girls, there was the enquiries and small talk; and the unavoidable cross talk; What happened to this person, where is that person, where does this person live/stay; the incessant chatter continued on into the late hour as the dusk set in.  

Meanwhile, the waiters were hovering around the tables, waiting patiently to note down the food orders.  Many of us, were not forthcoming on what to eat/order. Although, there were a few firm food orders.  The waiter who was initially assigned to our tables (a probationery waiter, perhaps) was completely dumbfounded.  He appeared flustered. Acting on a cue from the management representative,  he confabulated with his senior waiter colleague looking for clarity.  The conversation with the waiters took predominance. There was a lull in our conversations.  Waiters' doubts were completely addressed.  Finally, food orders were taken and food distribution ensued.  

Was the food that was served on the menu, the highlight of the evening.  Not really.  I can conclusively and vehemently say, 'NO' to that my dear sirs and madams, it was not.  The highlight was, of course, the afterglow of the warmth and the camaraderie that had set in amongst the mates; that was slowly forming into a deep, abiding and beautiful friendship.  Will this last.  That, my dears, is a million dollar question. 

As good times cannot last forever, things have to come to an end, so did our meet.  We ended our conversations on a very happy and pleasant note promising to keep in touch with each other and to have more such meetings.  This was an event to remember for all concerned .  Will the promises made on that eventful evening be remembered.  Only time will tell.  And that my dear readers, is life!  In all its glory and mysterious ways. 

A great party indeed!

The weekend supplements of many newspapers carry the news and photographs of the people having great parties in upscale hotels and restaurants or pubs; the photographs of some of these people holding a drink in hand or swinging away their blues on the dance floor, set me thinking.  What could be the reason that newspapers spend so much of resources on publicising the news and photographs of the partying men and women.  Many of these people partying hard are not even celebrities like movie actors (well, who doesn’t adore cinema idols!) or cricketers or some sportspersons (famous for their exploits on and off the field!) who need attention and publicity for their survival.  Seriously, do the newspaper editors really allow these rubbish materials to be published; fortunately, or unfortunately, it appears so!

Going through these news snippets in question, I saw that one of the photographs mentioned about the partying exploits of some DJ or RJ with their band members in tow.  The families and friends of such wonderful people would, of course, love to read and feast their eyes on the jovial camaraderie of their kinsmen/friends in the newspapers. If, on the other hand, these people are unknown to the readers, what interest would these news and photographs generate?  Don’t you think, reading snippets of partying information of unknown shenanigans or looking at some random photographs is sheet waste of time.

Made me wonder, who would benefit from the published news/photographs of some people having a nice time in upscale restaurant or pubs.  May be some of these partying people are wannabe actors or professionals in their respective fields who bribe the newsmen and photographers to publish them to further their careers;  Or is it that the newspapers need some juicy titbits of information for the financial survival of their newspapers;  Or the upscale restaurants and pubs would pay the newspapers handsomely to get publicity for their businesses; Or could this be some remnant colonial practice left behind by the aristocratic (or is it autocratic) British genteel customs.  We would never know, unless the newspaper publishers or the concerned newsmen spill out the truth behind this practice.

Whatever be the reason, it stuck me that if I were to visit one of these upscale restaurants or pubs during an exciting evening with my lovely and graceful partner in tow, maybe we could be lucky enough to be photographed and published in a popular newspaper!  Oh, dear vanity!

Short Pants - the sartorial statement!

I have always wondered how the fashion trends in men’s clothing department has evolved over the years.  Time was when, during my boyhood days we were sick and tired of wearing shorts or half-pants (as we called them, then); we wanted to grow up fast so that we could start wearing trousers or pants (as we used to invariably call them); what can I say, the shorts have now come onto the fashion scene with a bang; not only for young boys, but for men of all ages!  Older the man, more his new-found love for wearing the shorts.  I recently saw an old man, touching eighty, I would say, wearing beautiful chequered shorts and lovely beachwear T-shirt too.  He looked really smart with Nike sports shoes and a walking-stick swinging in his hand!  Shorts or half-pants, so to say, has really caught on, with great aplomb, in the minds of style-conscious men; young or old, alike.  It is considered the new-age ‘cool thing’ for men, to be seen wearing shorts!

Well, ruminating on my boyhood days, I had felt, rather ashamed of being seen, wearing shorts in public; I was ever so eager to enter manhood, mainly to show off wearing full length classic terry cot pants and growing a moustache (or rather, start the process of shaving).  I remember, I was so embarrassed of buying half-ticket in city transport buses.  I used to persuade my parents to buy me full ticket in buses; more than anything else, to feel the pride in being called a man, rather than a boy eligible only for half-ticket.  As a young boy, when travelling alone in buses, I was stealthily buying full ticket, away from the prying eyes of my parents; though, I was entitled to half ticket, according to my age, then.  When I asked for the full ticket, during those half-pant days, the bus conductor, used to look me up askance, weighing the options, whether I was eligible for half ticket or full ticket; but finally, the conductor used to issue a full ticket; giving in to the profit motive of the Bus Corporation!  In those days, the bus conductors had a way of assessing the boys’ ages, based on their attire; whether the boy was wearing half-pants or full pants.  Full pants warranted a full ticket and half pants were eligible for half-ticket.  It was that easy!  I don’t know, how it is, with the present-day BTS bus conductors.  It may not be that easy, considering that most men wear shorts or half-pants as their casual attire. Or else, do they even have half-tickets now, I am not so sure!

It was standard attire with the villagers of those days, to wear striped shorts; with a pocket sewn on the inside to keep their currency notes safe.  These striped shorts were made of pajama cloth material and all the village tailors were wonderfully skilled at stitching the pajama-based custom shorts.   I am not sure, if this village dress code was confined to South Indian States alone or was used widely in all other villages of India.  Striped shorts combined with inner vest (or banian, if you will) was a regular attire for village men.  Recently, when I passed through some of the villages, I could observe from the road-side that these village men too had radically evolved into wearing vibrantly fashionable shorts and colourful T-shirts.  It appeared to me, that the India I knew, had changed; had indeed, moved ahead on a swift path; fast catching up with the wealthy nations, at least, from a sartorial perspective!

Considering the current fashion trend in men’s casual wear department, young boys of the present day need not feel ashamed of wearing shorts or half-pants.  Most of the men’s population is wearing them too; men of all shapes and sizes; loving the comfortable and trendy short pants.  It may not be too far-fetched to assume that in the very near future, we may see most Indian men wearing shorts and T-shirts to their work places and offices in lieu of the formal shirts and trousers.  The only downside of older men wearing shorts, is the amply visible hairy ankle, which may not be such a pretty sight to most people, after all!

The aspirational Bangalore!

The aspirational Bangalore!

My memories flash back to the days when we were young and full of lively spirits! Bangalore was the most beautiful place to live in during my growing up years (through the seventies and eighties). I would love to call Bangalore of yore, a veritable heaven on earth! There were lovely parks, gardens; and lakes; streets were lined with lush green shady trees. Change of seasons were hardly recognisable; except for fallen dry leaves and flowers from trees signifying coming of autumn; the weather was cool and pleasant throughout the year. Summers were fleeting; temperatures hardly touched 32 degrees centigrade. The local houses were built keeping in mind the circulation of fresh air and Bangaloreans preferred to keep their front doors open through the day; there wasn’t any need of ceiling fans or ACs. Youngsters played cricket on the streets, during all times of the day. The City had few localities with medium class infrastructure. There were very less potholes on the roads as the vehicular population was low; People mainly owned two-wheelers. Owning a two-wheeler (the ubiquitous Bajaj scooter and Jawa Motorcycle) was the ultimate aspiration of young office-goers, those days. Young men were addicted to watching movies, listening to Radio and of course, the ubiquitous street-cricket (gully cricket in local parlance). Showing signs of rebellion, as students we used to bunk classes and sneak off to watch movies or play cricket surreptitiously avoiding getting seen by teachers and more importantly parents! Being sanctimonious with one’s parents was expected. Most of the young people were wary of their parents, especially dads; not that the parents were harshly critical or didn’t shower love or affection towards their children occasionally; but as parents they were supposed to exercise their right of judgement over their children and have strict say in their upbringing. Social mores demanded so. Luckily my parents were very protective and rather naïve; and didn’t want to believe that their son had a streak of rebellious nature in him too! Bunking classes to go to movies and Hotels. Though I don’t remember having ever taken undue advantage of their gullibility (small transgressions here and there are acceptable)!

Over the years, Bangalore has transformed into the garbage-ridden, stinking city that it has now become with interminable traffic movement during all hours of the day and night! This fundamental environmental aspect apart the culture of the City has changed drastically over the years. There has seen a major shift in the composition of people. Information Technology boom of the nineties and later years, brought in huge influx of young people from all over the country; while the earlier employment opportunities were limited to Public Sector Industries and few Banks, that had their Head Offices in Bangalore. With the founding of ‘Infosys’ which became synonymous with Information Technology and Software boom, many more IT software companies opened their Offices in Bangalore. Call Centres and BPOs came with a bang in a big way. The incoming people brought in their own culture which gradually became part of Bangalore culture. Youngsters were exposed to Western culture as part of their Companies’ outsourcing technology efforts, largely catering to US or European clients. The expression ‘Bangalored’ came into being, synonymous with outsourcing in US. More number of pubs and restaurants came into existence to cater to the demand from young people. High-rise apartments became the norm rather than individual single-storey houses built on ‘30x40’ or ‘40x60’ sites as was the culture earlier.

With the boom came the aspirations of the young people. Travelling to US and Europe by International flights was becoming the norm among younger generation. The Bangalore HAL Airport had hardly any flights outside of India in our younger days. I recall that I had visited HAL Airport as a young boy by bicyle to watch the take off and landing of Aircraft; this made me bloat like a baloon for days, it was as if I had landed on the moon. The IT software Companies sent their young smart people to various centres in US or Europe where they were headquartered to service their large clientele base. The aspirational middle-class Bangaloreans had now begun their journey onwards towards the World scene!

Pardon my saying so, it is nice to hear when my circle of friends and a large family of uncles, aunts, their children, relatives acquired through marriage, etc., wonderfully roll out the names of cities and towns in US, UK, Canada and Australia, pronouncing the names exactly like it is spoken in US or UK with the lovely accent rolling off their tongues like Americans or Britishers. I think that their knowledge of World Geography has increased amazingly, thanks to their children! Many a time, it had prompted me to google the place in question and look into the maps of US, Europe or Australia, searching for the exact location. Most of the people I know have either a son or daughter (includes son-in-law or daughter-in-law) in US or UK or Europe studying or working there. How things have changed! Wonderful!

As proud parents of an aspirational generation, it is but natural to talk of their childrens' achievements when they make it ‘big’, both in terms of educational qualifications as well as earning incomes in Dollars, Pounds or Euros. We are proud of children acquiring highly coveted technical qualifications, master degrees, doctorates from well acclaimed Universities in US, UK or Australia or employed on H1B, L1 visas, Green Card etc., in client locations in US! Some of my friends even know the various stages of Visa processing in US. Not so, in our younger days, our chief pastime was confined to listening to Hindi film songs (on Radio) apart from playing cricket at all times of the day! In our minds, studying and acquiring educational qualifications was just incidental and not important. Studying was a waste of time (in my mind at least!) as more important things like cricket or movies was on the top of our minds!

Now as parents, it makes us feel that we have finally ‘arrived’ in society on aspirational terms. When we meet our friends or relatives in marriages or some social functions, the natural topic of conversation would no doubt end with toasting our children and their wonderful achievements (conversations would also alas, include immediate transport arrangements using ‘Uber’ or ‘Ola’ app and reaching their nests!); Great! It is nice to hear proud parents speak with self-importance on their newly-acquired elevated social status, thanks to their wonderful children.

My thoughts turn to the issue the present generation of the parents would eventually have to come to terms with. Like they say, with every change there comes some pain too, which is inevitable! What would eventually become of us the parents when our children who go abroad, settle down comfortably in those wonderful places, never to return to India! Staying away from beloved children, pining away for them; would our thoughts rue the aspirational society that created this mess in the first place? Certainly not. I am sure our present day generation of parents are much smarter and wiser. We would think of new ways to deal with the situation as and when it arises. It is in nature’s way of things that children grow up and fly away from their nest; eventually they have to make their own futures. I think it should make us extremely happy and proud that our children have a very bright future ahead of them, with the World literally their playground! We should be proud that our children would eventually make a difference to the Society that they live in (be it in US, UK or Europe or Australia); when they rise to the top of their professions, wherever they are! Some of them may even get to be CEOs or Astronauts or even MPs or Prime Ministers/Presidents in their respective countries, who knows! Aspirations and achievements never cease to amaze!

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 simple 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!