Growing Up...

The villain was being bashed up left, right and centre by the hero. Rajinikant, or Superstar, as he is affectionately called by his fans, was having a field day. The movie was rather a damp squib (I can imagine some fans' blood pressure climbing if they come across such a statement!), but not for us back then. We were enjoying the movie, and my cousin was literally jumping up and down in the small space between the rows of seats in the theatre. The theatre itself was not remarkable, but the experience for us was. The reason: we were a bunch of middle school kids (my jumping-jack cousin was a primary school kid) out for a day having fun.

Cut to the present: most of us would not recall this incident, and none of us would go to the same theatre, and certainly not to a similar movie. We are now grownups, and so have become more mature, sophisticated, and even complicated. The theatre probably has grown up too, I guess, by adding better sound equipment and cooling systems.

I recalled these thoughts when I had visited my home last month. The locality too had grown up in a way, if you would call increased traffic, congestion, more buildings, eat outs, stores and people, as an improvement. Similar to us, the area was more mature, sophisticated and complicated. In short, the city grew with us.

My school started as a single two floor block housing sections of students at each grade (I was then in the first). We had a lot of playground space and fun. Eventually, the school too grew along with us, adding a few more blocks, an auditorium, and some cricket and volleyball infrastructure. By the time I graduated from the school, it had changed beyond recognition. Today, 'beyond recognition' seems to be an understatement, since I myself could not recognize the place, after having spent some 12 years of my life in there! So many kids, faculty, and buildings, so complicated.

My country's economy is posting an impressive 9% growth rate every year. When I was young, that number would barely wheeze past the 3% mark (not to mention that our school economics books would tout that as a really impressive and ideal growth rate!). Over the years, as I grew up, the country too grew, slowly and steadily. Today, the (relatively) grown up country has more of everything, but has also become incredibly complicated and sophisticated.

The reader must be wondering why I am trying to draw some parallels here. Let me confess that though I am drawing parallels between the growth of my city, school, country and myself, there is no deep reasoning behind it. It is just an observation that along with myself, so many aspects of my life have changed as though they were all marching in tandem. Doubtless many will have observed the same things, so I will not be so conceited in claiming that these growth stories coincided only with mine.

A few minutes well spent in fleshing out these thoughts!

Grownups

They say, the older we grow, the wiser we become. There are innumerable equivalent sayings for this statement in all languages and all regions. One conjures up mental visions of a distinguished looking person with white hair, each of which denotes infinite wisdom, upon reading this statement.

Do we really become wise as we become older? Upon pondering this question, I conclude it is not necessarily true. Of course, one might ask what exactly 'wise' means here. Answering that simple question requires a lot of wisdom. Do I have it? I do not know. Do you have it? Since you are a reader of this blog, I have to conclude that you do. Now, is that a 'wise' conclusion? Not necessarily. I conclude that the reader is wise, so as to not cause offense. But a wise person may not base a conclusion on such considerations.

Let us put this poser to a young person who is, say, all of five years. Would this person's conclusion be the same? Not at all. Since this person is young, (s)he would not understand the niceties and protocols we as adults follow. So, this person's conclusion would be more direct and simple, and may return a verdict of 'not wise'. When we are young, the world is black and white, without any shades of grey. One either likes something or does not. There is no 'Oh I should not offend this person, so I will pretend to like it, and later express my true feelings out of earshot'.

There are innumerable examples to support this. When I was young, I was playing cricket with a few of my (grown up) relatives. We had a good game going, but there was a point when I called one of the players (my grandmother's brother, actually, a really nice gentleman) a 'cheat' in front of everybody. I did so because he had been bowled out, but did not give up his bat. To me, that was cheating, and hence the verbal outburst. There is no way I would do that now, since I am an adult, and we adults do not call a spade, a spade. But, as an adult, would that be a 'wise' choice? No, because it is cheating, and yes, because the person is so senior that respect comes first.

It is not possible to be truthful always. Remember Jim Carrey in "Liar Liar". For those who are not familiar with this film, Jim Carrey is a lawyer who lies his way through life, till one day his son wishes that he speak the truth for one whole day. The travails of the truthful lawyer is captured nicely. This film highlights why we use euphemisms and politeness to mask our true feelings.

That said, I myself cannot help but follow politeness in life. Calling someone a 'cheat' would land me in trouble, even if I were right.

And kids always wish to be grownups!

Enterprising Tata...Or Pax Indica?

A simple act like purchasing some tea bags can trigger emotions within oneself. Hard to believe? See the bottom of this photo...


In 1600, Britain laid the foundation for Pax Britannica and the Raj with the East India Company, an economic enterprise. Are we now reversing 347 years of colonial conquest of India by Britain? Looks like it, does it not? Tata Tea bought British tea giant Tetley in 2005. This was followed by the acquisition of Anglo-Dutch Corus Steel by another Tata group giant, Tata Steel. Tata seems to be on a roll, especially with British enterprises. I certainly felt gratified to see the words "A Tata Enterprise" on this pack. What next? Will the phrase be associated with two other icons of British industry, namely Jaguar and Rover? Only time will tell. Pax Indica, anyone?

A taste of things to come...!

On exiting the apartment building one morning last week, I am confronted by this image. Wow! How can one go to work in these circumstances? I cannot see anything from within? Maybe I need one of those infra-red goggles! No, all I required was a simple snow brush to brush off the snow and scrape off the ice beneath it. But of course, I did not possess one! Typical reactionary am I not? Since I did not equip myself in advance, I had to roll a plastic bag around my hand and scrape off the snow (thankfully, there was no ice underneath). Of course, I do not want to mention that after I got inside the car, I had to wait ten minutes to get some iota of feeling in my hands, so that I could start the (brrr...cold) engine and eventually get some warm air. Sounds like fun, is it not? For you, it may be morning blues, alas, for me it is the morning whites and ice.

Whither goes thou, queried I, on a bored and lazy Californian afternoon. Born out of that simple but profound query, came one of my (more) pointless postings. Well, I did not go much geographically, except to this snow-forsaken not-as-cold-as-Canada state of Vermont (contrast that with sunny and chill Texas, where one could go to the corner store in shorts!). And right away, I was served with some appetizing hors d'oeuvres, which would, one assumes in any restaurant, foretell a taste of things to come. Before you start thinking of some real food, let me relieve you of such appetizing thoughts (my stomach actually rumbled as I wrote this line!). That reference to food was a metaphor to the first snowfall of the season in Vermont. The main courses (here they do a mutli-course meal) are going to be heavier, so I might in the future realize the need to buy a snow shovel, or, better, a snowmobile to dig my car out of piled up snow and somehow drive to work on snowbound roads... The warning signs are already in place: we saw a barely positive temperature today, after only 4 days! Of course, being the reactionary I am, I will probably wait for this catastrophe to occur before equipping myself further. For now, a snow brush would suffice.

P.S. I do not think it would be so bad, but I would reserve my opinion till April, assuming I am not buried under a layer of snow!!

Diversifying my portfolio

One might, looking at the title of this post, wonder if I have entered the of-late none-too-stable financial markets, or worse, intend to discourse about the benefits of financial thrift. To put such minds at rest, let me clarify at the outset that I do not intend to pursue either of the paths mentioned above, lest I lose my none-too-stable mind! Well, my mind is not exactly unstable, but is resonantly approaching instability (technical people might understand what I mean here). Before I go off-topic, let me come to the gist of the matter.

I decided to start another blog! For those who think this blog is one blog too many, I am sorry, since I have already acted upon my decision. For those who might be curious about just what I can write about in another blog (there is not much activity here, in the first place), I intend the other blog to be devoted to one of my hobbies. Most people might not call this a respectable hobby, but alas, some hobbies are inborn, according to me, and not just picked up. If you are indeed interested in checking it out, you may click here, or click on the link on to the left, called 'Basin Bridge'.

My apologies in advance if you feel you have wasted five minutes of your precious time!

Celebrating History and Heritage

Here in Stateside, one sees celebrations for founding days for many cities, big or small. I have even come across trips being advertised for a city's founding day. This city had apparently turned 166 years old (I am unable to recall the exact age). One can also see people enthusiastically celebrating such anniversaries.

Looking at this, one can only wonder why can we not celebrate founding days or birthdays for our cities in India? Most of these cities we know of in India are al least 200+ years old, with some venerable 'senior city-zens' amonsgt them. Some notables here (figures in years): Delhi: 900+? Patna: 2000+? Bangalore: ~1000. There are innumerable cities that are as old or older than the above-mentioned.

One might cynically say that 'celebrating city birthdays' are another Western import. True enough, but remember one thing: anything that is plenty is often taken for granted. Food is taken for granted in the West, and history is, in India. We do not need to celebrate a city's birthday to emphasize its importance. But such a celebration creates awareness amongst people from other places, and a sense of pride amongst residents. One the whole, such celebrations could create a shared feeling of pride for all of our history (ancient as well as modern).

In this context, I would like to mention the Madras Day celebrations, due to be held in the third week of August. This festival is to celebrate the 369th founding day of modern Madras City. The city was established on August 22, 1639, and was the first Presidency in British India. Such celebrations need participation from all, hence my post here. Of course, I can hear people say that the British colonized us, and so there is nothing to celebrate. Let me mention here that history includes everything that happened in the past, good and bad. The establishment of a city was definitely a good thing. So, instead of acting like an ostrich, sticking one's head in a bush, let us acknowledge our past and cherish it with pride.

369 years might not sound too old, compared to the cities I mentioned above. True, but one needs to start someplace. Let me also mention that though Madras might be 369 years old, two of its localities are much older. Mylapore is around 500 years old, with some inscriptions dating as early as 1250 CE. Also, it is believed that the saint-poet Thiruvalluvar was born here, anywhere between 100-600 CE. To celebrate Mylapore's rich cultural history came the annual Mylapore Festival. Another locality called Triplicane or Tiruvellikeni is also at least 400 years old, and has its own local festival, based on the Mylapore festival.

I hope people recognize where they come from and have pride in that, and continue to celebrate and value the heritage left with them. I have mentioned celebrations in Madras only, for I am most familiar with that city, and would like to know more about similar festivals elsewhere. I do believe that such celebrations are widespread and growing in our cities.

Happy Birthday Madras!

A long standing Indian icon

One of my friends mentioned this article about the Ambassador in the L.A. Times, and I was curious to find what the columnist had to say about one of India's icons. So, I wound up at this page, thanks to the ever obliging Google.

Being from a family that used to sport not less than three Ambys (as the car is fondly called) at home, I admit I had some nostalgic memories when I navigated to this site. Not surprisingly, I was quickly disabused of my notions about expecting some nostalgia-evoking sentences. One phrase about the car not being able to overtake even a wandering cow made me shout 'b****y murder'. Now, we all know that the line was an exaggeration, but still I could not help but feel strongly about it.

Ambys are good or bad members of India's automobile fraternity, depending on where you are positioned within the same. When you are on a bike, you want to shout at a bad (Amby) driver, who does not move, nor lets any body else move. One point to note here is that an Amby is a pretty big car for Indian roads, so it commands a lot of premium road space. There have been times when I myself have screamed my frustration at an Amby that sits on the middle of the road like a (deaf) buffalo.

Now for some positives. If you sitting inside an Amby, you feel like the king of the road. And usually, you are not alone in the car. There have been plenty of instances when entire families (some families like mine can stretch to 10+ people) share a ride on a single Amby! I have seen with my own eyes, ten people of various shapes and sizes, fitting into a single Amby, and the car actually ferried them with ease! Also, I must admit that I was once a member of such a party! If you are in an Amby, you get a comfy ride (by Indian standards of old) on any typical battered road. Maybe that is why tourist taxis still prefer to get Ambys over Omnis (a minivan), though an Amby is not much of a competitor to a Qualis (an SUV). I can recall more than quite a few long trips in Ambys, and I have fared none the worse for them. Needless to say, we did successfully overtake a few 'wandering cows'! One more advantage: if somebody rams your Amby, chances are that the somebody has a problem, and not you. This can be attributed to the predominantly lower speeds and that the Amby is so heavy and sturdy that it can probably handle the situation without any safety features like crumple zones of airbags. Of course, one needs these safety features on all cars, regardless of speeds, etc., so I hope the manufacturers do include them in the future.

Amby is a dying car today, as it has to compete with Toyotas, Fords, Hondas, etc. and it does not stand a chance against them. However, for those who recall the old magic of this icon, those who call her 'the Queen of Indian roads', the Amby will forever reside in memory for years to come. It certainly shall, in mine.

The Ambassador - An Indian icon.

Whither goes thou?

Whither goes thou? I remember reading this phrase somewhere, but cannot remember where. Probably The Hindu, where I learned most of my English. Whither, for the uninformed, means, "where to", and is not use in everyday English.

To answer my own question, I do not know. Maybe I will start pondering the meaning of life, and thinking of a good answer to this question twenty or thirty years down the road of life, but I am penning my thoughts now for my memory, which, I suspect would become progressively leaky over time. Time is the great healer, one hears people say, but, sir, time also deletes many things as part of this acclaimed healing process. A small digression here, if I may. The 'sir' in the previous sentence is a mere expression, and not sexist in anyway. I am afraid I have to clarify this right away, or I would be assailed by a bevy of people beginning with my dear sisters! That 'sir' (again) is the nature of this world today. One must not in the least insinuate that the fairer sex is weaker in any way, lest be verbally assailed by all and sundry.

You might wonder what I am trying to convey here. Quite frankly, I am still trying to figure that one out. I was filled with this irresistible urge to write something, after witnessing my colleagues blogging away to glory. Well, me too! Also, starting on philosophy, which is a profound topic on a good day, guarantees that one can let one's thoughts wander all over this world and how many more there are out there.

Whither goes thou? I really do not know. Maybe I will, one day, and I hope to be young enough to write something in whatever technology that advanced age spawns.

See you soon..!!

Coffee

Coffee...Kaapi...Cafe'...Kaafi...

People have various names and various flavours for this beverage. Some have it hot, some have it cold, some have it iced. Again, some have it black, some with cream, some with milk. Instant, brewed, drip and filtered. There are varities of the beans themselves, usually geographically distinguished (Brazilian, Columbian, Arabica, and closer to home, Coorg, Nilgiri and so on). The options go on and on.

Currently, I am sipping a cup of coffee to set my mood and let my fingers fly over the keyboard, as I reminisce about this really wonderful and potent drink. For me, a day without coffee is a day without purpose. Pardon me, but like some of you Starbucks aficionados, I also have very strong views about my coffee. For instance, black coffee is a waste of good coffee beans. Any coffee without milk, strength and sugar is not worth the effort. This brings me in line with the South Indian filter coffee. You can read more about the history and social importance of filter coffee at this wiki. Let me talk about my feelings for coffee.

One gets up early in the morning (say 8 o'clock - that is early enough for me, though some purists will want their coffee earlier than that!). One goes into the kitchen, only to see water boiling on the stove, and the filter ready to take the day's first load of coffee powder (in India, we mix coffee with some chicory, which actually adds to the taste). One puts in some coffee powder, and pours in the boiling water with a flourish, and take the lid, tap the top of the filter with it, and close it. One goes outside, just to see the morning's paper waiting to divulge its share of daily misery. Remember, though we say man's failures make the front page and his successes make the last page (thanks to my school friend Srivaths Swaminathan, who quoted this very truthful nugget to me), I still think it is all daily misery because there is usually some news item to overshadow the good news (remember 359/2 in 50 overs at Jo'berg?). In my humble opinion, coffee helps processing such news without much concern.

Anyway, enough rambling. By now, the filter has done its job with admirable alacrity, considering the earliness of the hour. One goes back to the kitchen in haste, to savour the first coffee of the day as fresh and as hot as possible. So, taking some decoction (some have corrupted this into de-kaa-shion!) in a dabarah (please refer Wikipedia for more about this utensil), one adds some milk and heats it on the stove, periodically transferring the milk between the tumbler (you guessed it! Wiki again!) and the dabarah with an arc like flourish. To hold the hot dabarah, one uses tongs, called 'idukki' in Tamil. This process is repeated till the coffee is hot and there is a thick frothy layer of coffee on the top of the tumbler. That process completed, one retires to the hall, settles down with the coffee and the newspaper (I prefer The Hindu).

In the meantime, the morning's activities pick up speed outside, with people of all ages leaving for their jobs (school is like a job, for it starts so early in the morning!). The coffee by now is consumed with zest, and the paper browsed in detail. Time for a second round! In some households, there are actually two rounds of coffee preparation in the morning itself, irrespective of the filter's size. This is, in addition to the evening round around 7 o'clock, when the folks are back from work, play or class, and dinner is in preparation.

A bit about the importance of good coffee. Many grandfathers in the south of India would not taste the coffee made by anyone other than their wives, so particular are they about the consistency and strength of the coffee. Any social gathering usually entails the removal of a huge filter (it is around 3 feet tall by itself, and pretty thick, as big as a small child!) from storage, and the purchase of quite a few kilos of fresh coffee. Bad coffee can undo any occasion, so great care is taken to prepare good coffee, and lots of it.

Anyone who has coffee made this way, would be familiar with a trip to the local coffee store. Time was, when there were no chains of coffee retailers like Coorg, Tata or Coffee Day. I remember going to a local store with my dad, to purchase a kilo of coffee. It was in the evening around 7 o'clock, and I noticed the storefront from across the road. The board was painted dark blue, and big white English and Tamil letters with a plain font proclaimed 'Mylapore Coffee House', or whatever the name of the establishment was. The board was lit by a dim and dusty tube light, and on the whole, presented a classic 1950's look. We entered this store, where of course we had an account, and knew the owner for quite many years. The following description
would hold true for any such store: the interior is conservatively painted in dark shades of blue, and there is a long table in the front separating the customers and the store keeper. This table is usually made of old quality wood, and there is a slow fan creaking from the Madras terrace roof. On one side of the table, there is a weighing scale, with an analog needle pointer. Behind that sits the store keeper, who is usually the owner, and usually a senior person, wearing spectacles and reading the morning's newspaper (I personally noticed The Hindu most times). On seeing us, he closes the paper and gets the order. The order is passed on to the assistant, who selects the beans, weighs it, adds a few extra beans, but not too many, and then feeds it to the machine, which cranks to life with some reluctance. The aroma of coffee wafts around the store, and after a few minutes, we are richer by a kilo of fresh coffee powder, whose delights would be savoured early next morning :)

Laziness

An ideal afternoon...

It is 12:30 on a slow weekday, and I am sitting idle at home, not having anything to do. Of course, the day was one the many I was officially given to prepare for my semester exams, but note here the qualifying word 'many'. As the modern version of Kabir went, 'Kal kare to parson kar, parson kare to kabhi nahi...' (meaning: if there is something to do tomorrow, do it the day after, and if there is something for the day after, do it never... :)). I was a committed follower of this wonderful 'doha', which also seems to find a rabid following among college students.

So here I am, sitting idle at 12:30, just having finished a sustaining repast the English speaking world calls lunch (or sometimes, dinner) . I turn the TV on, but there is nothing of interest (thanks to the conditional access system so lovingly implemented only in Madras out of the entire India). After listlessly changing between BBC world and NDTV, I decide to read, which I knew would inevitably be followed by a longish nap. So I grab a book (I do not remember which), and settle on my bed. My current posture is stretching my legs on the bed, but sitting upright leaning on a mountain of three cushions. I start reading...

One hour later: the only sound around is that of the ceiling fan, and I slightly change my posture, now lying on the bed properly. I keep reading for a while, after which the sun also changes its posture such that my room is in shadow and there is a comfortable darkness around. This darkness is enough to sleep without light irritating one's eyes, and also slightly uncomfortable for reading. I continue reading trying to resist sleep, which by now I know is inevitable. As a concession to my (now) sleepy self, I remove a pillow from underneath my head and settle it beneath my knees and get a blanket for myself. I am now feeling at the peak of comfort and laziness, such that in a few minutes, the book slides off my now lazy fingers and my eyes close shut. Peace!

The next thing I know, it is even more dark (or it appears such to my sleepy eyes). I squint at the clock and discover it is 3 o'clock! No sooner than my mind registers this fact, my stomach lets out a timely rumble! I get up, raid the kitchen, where I can find only a few Marie biscuits. I look out the window, and it is really dark. The entire sky is covered with menacing black clouds, and there is a very slight but chilly wind. The street outside is completely still; not even the crows want to disturb the tranquility.

Ding...Ding...Ding...Dong! I can hear this pattern of sound from the next street. I know what this means! A timely afternoon snack! After a long wait of five minutes, the source of this noise (or was it music?) turns the corner onto my street. I grab a few coins and go out to the gate. The guy notices me and comes over. Some money changes hands, and I am left with a (news)paper wrapped packet of warm roasted groundnuts. Just holding the packet gives me so much pleasure! I quickly hurry inside, for the clouds above me decide to water the city's plants, and warn me in advance with a slight drizzle. I resume my position on my bed, but discover that it really too dark to read there. So I repair to the hall and settle on the carpet with my book and the snack. Soon, the watering of the city starts in real earnest, and I can smell the dusty Indian earth (what a wonderful smell - it puts you in such a good mood!). I quickly finish my snack, enjoying it all the while. After this, I quickly make some hot tea (I am a coffee guy, at evenings I love my tea), and really settle down to enjoy the scene. Warm groundnuts ground by one's teeth, washed down by strong hot and sweet tea, while the ears are busy listening to the sound of rain, and the eyes reading the words line by line, the body lays at peace, not having much work to do and the mind enjoying the very laziness of it all. What an experience!

Oh to be so lazy again!

2007...

Here I am sitting in my apartment, time playing heavily on my hands. Some other apartment in my complex is making sure that the world would not miss the turn of the year, by making enough noise for all of us. Anyway, I thought, why not think of something positive? This was followed by: what better thought than greet as many people as possible on this occasion (the earth grew older by a year)? So here I am, typing these few words and hoping someone would read it. Even if one person reads this, my effort is not wasted.

Well, here we go: Happy New Year 2007!!!

Also, if you are lucky enough to be home, enjoy all the sweets and savouries you can lay your hands on! Think of all of us who subsist on Taco Bell! I consoled myself by paying a visit to the local IHOP :) Last year this time, I was enjoying the post-meal contentment of an obviously tasty Tandoori/Indian/Chinese meal. Mmmmm...... This was after a visit to the famous 'Gap', as my friends and I called it. FYI: 'Gap' is a evening only Samosa-Cutlet-Pakora-Bajji-and more outlet, situated right next to Adyar Bakery in Adyar, Madras-600020, India. More FYI: Gap = Nirvana! Let me stop rambling here. More on this nirvana later....

Wishing good luck to you all... in whatever you want to do....