The narrow escape of a 'cool' tech-savvy retiree

I have always prided myself to be a 'cool' tech-savvy person.  I was preening around tutoring every non computer literate person, at every available opportunity, helping on troubleshooting the computer application problems and even on the newer mobile phone technicalities.  I had become a sort of “go-to” person in my close family and friends circles for all technology related advice.  All this was well documented and things were running pretty smooth, until the day of the reckoning which arrived sooner than expected.  It all began one lazy afternoon, when I was in a deep slumber after having partaken a rather heavy lunch.  I was jolted awake by an insistent phone call from an unknown number.  As was my post lunch custom, a siesta had become a regular thing after my retirement.

The caller was a plain spoken gentle male voice speaking in Hindi from my Bank advising me of an apparent mistake in my insurance premium paid through my credit card.  The premium amount would be debited every month instead of one time payment, he said.  I was rudely awakened.  I expressed some doubt which he clarified hurriedly mumbling that this was an oversight that happens to most people.  He explained the technicality of rectifying the error by asking me to open the bank app and change some of the controls and settings.   I had become a putty in the hands of the caller with absolutely no idea of the things he was saying.  I listened to him intently while changing all the parameters on which he advised me.  He had sent me a WhatsApp message from the Bank containing a file.  He asked me to install the file and click send.  I tried doing just that.  The send message was not going through.  He asked me to change the settings in the phone to install ‘unknown’ files.  I did just that.  You would think that I was dumb enough to follow all that he said.  In my defence, I would say that his voice was mesmerizing and so helpful that I went along with his tone.  At this  exact moment, the alarm bells in my mind had started ringing.  It was the Archimedes' “Eureka” moment.   The sixth sense in me was working overtime to compensate for the rookie mistake I was about to commit. It had dawned on me at the 'nth' moment that I had not made payment of any Insurance premium lately using my bank credit card.   Then, what was it I had been doing all along, my mind was now wide awake from the deep slumber. 

I nimbly disconnected the phone and tried blocking the unknown caller.  The caller kept ringing several times and I kept rejecting his calls.   Now fully awake to the fraudulent transaction that I was about to commit, I realised the enormity of my blunder and swiftly started undoing all that I was asked to change on my phone.  For good measure, I blocked all internet transactions on my bank credit card.  I dashed off an email to my bank explaining the situation.

All my world around me had come tumbling down in that instant.  Luckily I had escaped from the skin of my teeth.  All was not lost still.  However, all  my confidence had evaporated and I felt I was the most lame and gullible person to have been a willing participant in my own doom. 

A fitting lesson learned.  Ever since the incident I have stopped receiving phone calls from unknown callers.  I am very cleverly diverting it to my spouse to help me out in dealing with the unknown callers.   I am no longer the 'cool' tech-savvy person that I had deemed myself to be all along.  So be it.  

Stray thoughts on ‘what constitutes Happiness’

In a recent article, what I read about ‘Happiness’, made me think deep and apply it to my own life. The article went on, “Happiness is the ultimate purpose of our existence, whether as a conscious or unconscious decision. It is every human being's inalienable right. Yet, how do we measure happiness? It comes in so many different forms and for such diverse reasons that there can never be a consensus of what constitutes happiness.” The words rang true.   The author had so eloquently expressed it.  When I looked up on the Wikipedia and many other resources (Thank God for Google!) there were numerous and confusing definitions of what constituted happiness and I felt that the subject was too complex for a confused layman, like me, to handle; in effect, there was no consensus on the definition of happiness as concluded by the above said author.

Man, has lived and survived in this World for thousands of years, yet, if happiness is the ultimate purpose of all our existence, is there no simple answer to this perennial question of how to be happy?

I held this thought.  A beautiful quote had stuck with me, in my sub-conscious mind for a long time. 

“It is so simple to be happy….. yet it is so difficult to be simple”.  This was a quote from a Hindi movie of yesteryear “Bawarchi”, a cult classic from the inimitable Hrishikesh Mukherjee. Although, this truism had a deep sense of meaning and suggested an elaborate word play, in effect, this implied to me, that simplicity, could be the answer to happiness.  If one leads a simple life with no material wants or desires; following asceticism, good virtues and moral character, life would be much simpler and thereby hangs a tale; Man, can be happy, if he chooses to remain simple.

It is not in my character to give up on the material wants and desires; I do not wish to lead an ascetic’s life, though I believe I have strong moral character and have some fine virtues.  Excuse me, it is not that I crave to own a palatial bungalow in Sadashivanagar or own a high-end Merc or BMW or Audi or even travel around the world, first class.  There is no end to what a person can crave for and the World can offer.  I, on other hand, would love to enjoy the material and mundane pleasures, life has to offer, within the limited resources, I have. I am digressing.

The more I thought about it, the more I felt that, happiness, is after all, one’s state of mind.  When we are at peace with our inner self and surrounded by Nature’s wonders, perhaps, a wave of ‘well-being’ emotions would sweep over us (could I say this is happiness, or may be, one would call it euphoria?); On the other extreme, just as an illustration, when we are walking on the street, in a heavy traffic zone filled with smoke emanating from vehicles; and we see dirt and squalor strewn all around, an opposite kind of wave, perhaps, nausea, would sweep over us, making us feel unpleasant; could this constitute unhappiness during that moment?  Is this too simplistic an explanation, for what happiness or unhappiness could mean to ordinary humans?

Have we all not heard the famous quote, that ‘darkness’ is the absence of light?  Similarly, in my mind, the absence of inner strife (our devilish thoughts and conflicting emotions) and/or the absence of problems/issues we face in our daily life, constitutes happiness. Apart from this, I really do not understand, what one would call happiness.  May be, an ascetic who is in deep penance in the Himalayan jungles would understand the term happiness in a better perspective.  I, for one, cannot. In that sense, in my present state, I am profoundly happy, thank you!

Bicycle chronicles

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

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

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

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

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

The Mouse Hunt

The Mouse Hunt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bhoot Bangla - A live story!

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

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

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

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

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

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

A trip down memory lane

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

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

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

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

Retirement blues'!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ancient Indian Civilization - A mere conondrum or lost civilization

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The 'boss' man

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!