Of conductors and drivers

It is after a very long time that I have started traveling by the city bus. As many years had passed, I felt quite inexperienced when I got into the bus. I realized that I had lost my grit and agility over the years. Previously I used to stand even while the bus was plying and without holding on to anything I could rummage in my bag and take out the fare for the ticket, fetch the ticket and not sway an inch. In fact, I used to act as a courier and most earnestly pass the ticket amount from the passengers who had boarded the bus in the front, to the conductor stationed at the rear of the bus. I would then pass the tickets along with the change in the reverse direction. That steady I was then! But now, as soon as I got into the bus I realized that such gymnastics was not for me. I had to hold on to the bars provided on the top and wait patiently for somebody to vacate the seat so I could sit down. Once I got my seat, I noticed that the buses had become more deluxe and some of them had Air condition units fitted. Depending upon the level of luxury allowed the ticket rates varied. Notwithstanding these changes, the crew was the same old “Conductors & Drivers”.  Looking at them I started musing about the lot of these transport workers.

          In the yester years, the government-run transport buses used to monopolize the city roads. They were overcrowded and cumbersome. Sometimes you could see a fleet of buses in the same route go by, one after the other like a convoy. Then there would be a long lull without any bus at all. One would have to stand in the bus stand with aching legs for the bus to come by. The crowd in the stand will keep on swelling and spill over, right into the road.  On such occasions it is best to wait your turn and not rush to catch the first bus that comes into your view; obviously it will be over crowded and quite a number of the adventurous guys would be even hanging out of the doorway and the windows adjoining the doors.

          But today, a number of share autos ply in all directions and this provides a convenient alternative to the weary travelers.  No doubt they would be more expensive then the bus fare but several times cheaper to engaging an auto all to your self.

          In some countries a single person doubles up for the driver and the conductor. In some cases the role of the conductor is totally dispensed with as the buses have automatic ticket vending machines. But in India, the Conductor-Driver duo work as a team. For a common passenger the driver is almost faceless personnel who sit right up at the front with his face away from you and given the heavy crowd blocking all view, one hardly gets to see him at all. The conductor on the other hand is the executive of the bus and the visible identity of the bus.

          Bus conductors have a range of responsibilities, which include collecting fares, issuing tickets, helping passengers with baggage, advising on destinations and ensuring the safety of passengers. He also has to complete the paper work of closing stage and tallying the collection etc. The lot of the conductors and drivers is not a very attractive one as the hours are irregular and may involve some weekends and shift work.

          Although a small seat is provided for the conductor, his job demands him to stand for prolonged periods. He blows the whistle once to stop the vehicle, so passengers could get in and out, he blows twice (“double whistle”) to signal to the driver to start off.  The relationship between these two transport workers is quite interesting for they have to work as a team to run the required number of trips per shift and keep to the time schedule.  On reaching the terminus, one can see them walk away as buddies to the nearest tea stall. There, over a cup of tea and with the newspaper in their hand they will discuss the road conditions, the current politics and what not. In side the bus, they communicate with the whistle and the lights inside the bus.

          Not much career progression for these guys I guess. Probably they might earn some lateral pay scale enhancements which pushes up their salary without any change in their job content. Of course, I have seen them wear different colored uniforms which might distinguish each personnel by their length of service. Now however, with the AC buses and deluxe buses on the road only senior staff is posted to these hi tech buses.

          The work of the conductor is quite unending for most of the passengers only say their destinations; the conductor will have to know what ticket to be issued. He tears the ticket and makes a notch at the side to indicate the stage and then hands it over to the passenger, collect the fare and return the change. He has to do all this within the minimum time. The knack with which he holds the entire ticket bunch in his hand without dropping it down, hangs a whistle from one of the fingers and tucks the Rupee notes between the fingers is a site to watch. The conductor besides the ticket bunch also has a small metal pad and a tabulated sheet where he jots down the ticket serial number for “closing stage”. This check matrix will enable him to tally the collection at the end of the day. 

He has to be fast in mental sums for if a passenger asks for a number of tickets; he should quickly calculate the sum and collect the right amount. All this he has to complete before the predetermined stage. For there will often be ticket checkers at various stops who check to see if all the customers have taken the right ticket. In case a passenger does not have a ticket, the passenger is penalized. The conductor is also liable for some demerit in his career.

          Thanks to technology, the conductors now carry a miniature ticket dispenser. They punch the destination and the number of fares, the ticket prints out. This makes the job of the conductor far easy.

          A.G.Gardiner has immortalized the role of a conductor in his “On saying please”, where everybody waits for the helpful and cheerful conductor who used to spread his cheer to all the passengers with his cherubic nature. More recently the Knight bus conductor in “Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban” brought the conductor back into the main stream.

Let me finish this blog with a story about a conductor who did not stop the bus and on two such occasion a passenger died. He was convicted and on each occasion as luck would have it he survived the electric chair.

A reformed man he returned to his job and on the third occasion, he did dutifully stop the bus for a passenger who accidentally slipped on a banana peel and died. This time he was awarded capital punishment for a crime he did not commit. And sure enough this time he died on the electric chair.

 

The question is why didn't he die on the first two occasions, but died instantly the third time??  Any clues?????

Well, it is because a  BAD CONDUCTOR never allow electricity to pass whereas GOOD CONDUCTER allows electricity to pass through it .

Right, right !!!

AN ART GALLERY AT YOUR DOORSTEP

”

      The art of drawing beautiful designs in front of the house is a famous concept prevalent in India particularly in South India. This is called “ Kolam” in Tamil. In the bygone days when cementing the floor was not common, folks mixed cow dung in water and splashed it on the front porch. This served two purposes. First, it helped to settle the dust and give a neat appearance to the entrance of the house and second, cow dung is purported to have the inherent capacity to kill germs, spraying this disinfectant helped a long way in maintaining hygiene and keeping off contagious diseases.  Having cleaned and mopped the porch, it was only natural that one decorates it with some designs and that folks, is the genesis of kolam!  Further, on auspicious days it was mandatory to draw these kolam as it is a Hindu belief that the geometrical patterns & designs applied with rice flour at the entrance of a home, invites Goddess Lakshmi into the household, and drives away the evil spirits.

      Originally, in the golden years of plenty, rice powder was used to draw the patterns. Against the greenish brown background of the soil, the kolam drawn with coarsely ground white rice powder set off a beautiful sparkle in front of the house.  For drawing outdoors, rice powder was used and for decorating inside the house, rice flour was mixed with water and made into a wet paste. This glue like liquid was used for drawing. When dry the white colour sparkles brilliantly and it also stays on for a few days. Above all, keeping in line with the Hindu principle of Karma and Dharma these kolam with rice powder went a long way in bringing the daily bread on the ant’s table!

      Somewhere down the line, the practice of replacing the rice powder with soft white stone powder (mogu mavu) became prevalent probably due to the recession. The designs look just as vibrant and lovely with the stone powder; however the ants will have to now work harder for their daily bread.

      For ordinary days a small pattern will do and for a festival day the same pattern may with iteration be blown up into a mammoth design.

      The basic step involved in a kolam is first to keep small dots equidistantly. These dots will form the basic guide on which the kolam will be drawn. You start off with a row of dots which will form the main frame of the design. Above and below this main row, further dots are kept either one below the other or between two dots.   Sometimes equal number of dots is kept to form a square-ish box or the number of dots is reduced systematically to give a tapered look. The number of dots and their placement method will largely depend on the ultimate design that one has in mind.

      Having placed the dots, one can draw different types of kolams –

      One has to draw lines, either straight or curves, right over these dots (connecting these dots), to define various objects or motifs. The most common objects are flowers such as rose, lotus, lily etc; birds such as parrots; butterflies and some enthusiastic spirit may even venture to draw elephants and human forms. These types of kolams are normally decorated with colored powders and then it is termed as “ Rangoli”.

Sometimes, straight lines connecting the dots are drawn to form beautiful and complex geometric designs which are called “thaduku kolam” or mat designs – carpet designs.

      The next option is to draw curves around the dots. The most amazing and mind boggling maze like designs evolve out of such patterns. Most of these patterns start at one point, tour around the entire kolam and end at the same point leaving an intricate design behind which blows one’s mind off. I am most fascinated by these kolams which go well beyond the fathomable limits of a human imagination. These are called “Suzhi kolam”. One can draw small ones starting with a three by three matrix to big ones which resemble a chariot. This is called “ther kolam”.

      There is an entirely different genre of kolams where the dots are dispensed with. Batches of straight lines , normally two or in odd numbers such as three, five etc. are drawn free hand to form rectangles or squares. These are then polished off with lotus or other cute tendrils. To enhance the beauty, red clay is made into a thin paste and this is painted as a border or in the centre to set off the design and accentuate its beauty.

      When families were living in close groups there used to be such a competition in drawing these kolam in front of the house. The girls took great pride in being the first to finish the biggest design. During the Tamil month of Marghazy, which comes during the winter month of December, the competition becomes intense. Each day, before sunrise, the ladies of the house begin their artwork at the doorstep. Bigger the kolam, greater the pride. Finally, a pumpkin flower is propped on a cowdung ball and kept in the centre of the kolam for effect. Talking of flowers on a kolam, Kerala specializes in “Poo Kolam” where flowers of different hue are used for making the kolam.

      To stress the importance of Kolam, it can be said with assurance that,if one took the time and effort to look into the loft there will most certainly be a  well thumbed and soiled kolam book where probably our granny would most probably have copied some designs that took her fancy. This is handed down as an heirloom with each generation augmenting the design gallery. Some of the pages will be torn in half due to constant references, while some will be just as new. 
Over and above this linkage to one's past, drawing the kolam on the floor by bending over was the best possible "Tummy Trimmer" technique.    

  Living in apartments with hardly any space for showing one’s kolam power, a few lines is all that one can afford. In fact, stickers with beautiful kolam designs printed on them are stuck on the floor tile and voila there is your permanent kolam at your door step. They say that if god closes one door, he always opens another, that’s true for kolam too. Maybe, kolams are not popular anymore on doorsteps, but the number of websites dedicated entirely to kolam is quite encouraging. In fact, various organizations are conducting competitions and give away prestigious prizes and thereby they have ensured that this beautiful culture exclusive to our nation is not all lost.


HERE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVOURITE ONES.  I am a not-so-bad Kolam exerciser myself. here some I like most

THE PUNCHES WE THROW

The word “Punch Dialogue” is a terminology that is coined and commonly used only in the Tamil movie parlance. You will find no reference to this phrase in any other context other than in Tamil Movies. This got me musing. What exactly does it mean?. Where does it get its origin? How far has it spread?

These punch dialogues are hot one liners uttered by the hero or the heroine of a movie, to exhibit the macho and power of the character. These are commonly accompanied with stylish gestures such as snapping of fingers, crossing and re-crossing your legs while seated and so on. These gestures are further enhanced with loud and trendy background scores. The advertisement for the film is focused on these one-liners. These punch dialogues are mostly bravado words bragging one’s abilities like “when I say something once, it’s almost like it’s said a hundred times”, “when I decide on something I will not go back, even on my own advice” and so on. They are widely, hollow words and do not convey any significance and are meant solely for the front benchers and the nostalgic  NRI intellects. It is quite possible to deduce  that this phrase has its genesis from the idiom “pack a punch” which means “to have a powerful effect or influence”.  

In truth the Hollywood movies are not completely bereft of these punch lines. Take for instance the western movies where John Wayne shooting from his hip, killing the wicked villain will utter great quotes such as “Life is hard; it’s harder if you’re stupid” , or “Courage is being scared to death , but saddling up anyway”  or even “A man ought to do what he thinks is right”. These are etched in the minds of every movie lover of ester years.

It must be recorded here that the Tamil language is famous for its short and sometimes brusque phrases, poems which carry tonnes of useful messages. Take for instance the “Thirukurral” which is essentially a collection of couplets or aphorism which touches upon almost all aspects of life as varied as from ploughing the field to ruling a country. Or listen to the laconic blessings of the Tamil savant Avaiyar,  to a  king on his birthday as just “Varappuyara”. This is the title of a poem which translates as “ Varappu Uyara” meaning let the dams and bunds be raised. The area is a predominantly agricultural area with rice being the main produce. Paddy fields require stocking of plenty of water and more the water more the yield.  As the paddy crops require abundant standing water for their proper cultivation, the farmer builds high and strong bunds around his field to grow the crop. Only if there are good rains will the farmer take the effort to build the bunds higher to prevent the rainwater from running off. This water storing will go a long way in replenishing the ground water level. Your modern day “rain-water harvesting”,  indeed.  Well the poem goes like this

varappu uyara neer uyarum;
neer uyara nel uyarum;
nel uyara kudi uyarum;
kudi uyara kol  uyarvan

When translated means if the bunds are raised, more water can be held to yield more paddy which will lead to the prosperity of the general public and thereby the well being of the monarch himself is ensured. What a good advice on Irrigation system and proper governance.  

If Tamil literature has its fair share of punch lines, will Greek and Rome be far behind? Hippocrates, the Greek physician in his “Aphorism” has introduced the famous thought of “life is short…” which is greatly used in maxims of physical science.  Rome has made its punch mark with the famous “You too, Brutus?” (“Et tu, Brute?”- Latin)   to convey surprise at betrayal and any form of back stabbing.

When Armstrong stepped off the Eagle's footpad he etched his name in history as the first human to set foot on another astronomical body. The words  he uttered then  "That's one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind"  has further immortalized his name and added his to the long list of “World Punch liners”.

Back home we use the punch line “ closing the back door ” to indicate a situation where you set out to do a job which however leads  into an array of activity prolonging the completion of the  original job that you set out to do. I think we read it in the Reader’s digest, where the man of the family sets out to have a peaceful siesta on a Saturday. Just as he walks to his room he notices that the back door is open. He goes to close it and sees that the light in the basement is glowing.  He climbs down to switch it off only to find that the switch is loose. He searches out his screw driver and fixes the switch. In the process he niches his finger. He goes to fetch some toilet paper to wipe the blood and ends up refilling the tissue papers in the toilet. While washing his blood stained hand he sees the dripping tap and has to change the washer and ultimately he closes the back door and comes to the hall. His wife asks him “where were you this whole afternoon?”. Our man replies “will you believe me, I was closing the back door”.

So let’s conclude, if huge information could be packed in a short sentence it becomes a punch line. While our lines don’t come with back ground sounds and stylish looks, we do pepper our conversations with them for better impact.

THE TELL TALE CLOCK

“You can take the horse to the water but you can’t make it drink”. How very true!  Since I am no “equidae”   expert I can’t give any first hand information on that, but I am clearer about its applicability on human beings.

Listen to this story that my father used to say quite often. A plantation overseer tired of the hot sun wanted to break for his siesta. He was sure however that the moment he turned his eye away his slaves would also fall prey to the designs of Morpheus. So he took a big baseball, drew huge eyes on it with some charcoal, hoisted the ball on a stick in the middle of the field and warned “These are my eyes, I might not be physically here but my eyes are watching you and any person not working will be flogged”. So saying he left peacefully to his cabin. The field hand dutifully worked for some time then one of the smart guy noticed that the eyes on the base ball were fixed in one direction and not rolling. So he secretly crept up from behind and threw his hat on the ball covering the eyes completely. He cried “the master’s eyes are closed. Come now let take turns to nap”.

My own experience is a story of sorts. I was then in-charge of a huge store yard which was in a particularly nefarious location. The yard which was of several acres was stocked with rows and rows of valuable copper cable drums. High walls with barbed wire fencing formed the first level of security. Hotlines to fire department and the nearest police station were the second level, and round the clock patrols with security guards were the third level.  It was all very nice to mark three guards for duty during the night with instructions to safe guard the items and an entirely different story in making them effective at it.  On an average the night shifts were a comparatively easy one’s, for one could sleep  after completing certain log enters and some such mandatory things, without the watchful eyes of a supervisor. It is only when the robbers decide to break in that all hell breaks loose.

The schedule is like this, one guard is to man the front gate, one is posted on top of the watch tower provided at the extreme end of the premises and the third to beat the patrol rounds in the complex. They were provided with lathi, a powerful torch light, each a pair gumboots and a whistle. Powerful sodium vapor lamps installed at strategic locations, provided enough illumination. As the yard was once a marsh there was no dearth of dangerous snakes and other creepers, add to this the dangerous burglars armed with axes, crow bars and equally menacing weapons.  The guards, naturally, were more prone to skip the beats and save themselves from all the impending dangers. It is here that the tell tale clocks come in.

These clocks were the manual winding clocks types with pendulum. Near the pendulum was a drum which spins in unison with the clock hands. On this drum one could load a paper disc. A long pointed needle protrudes out of the clock face. The person on patrol will have to press this lever and this will punch a hole in the paper disc.  This way one could monitor the beat cycles of the patrolling guards.  

 Three of these clocks I had put up at extremely difficult nooks of the building and I made sure that the clocks were wound daily and the paper disc changed without fail. The instructions to the guard were they should punch these discs on the hour every hour. If the boys missed punching they knew for sure I would almost punch them with my caustic words. Now they were in a dilemma, they either braved the elements and completed the rounds or face my wrath. The former seemed better so for some months I found that they carried out the routine patrols and by blowing the whistle they were putting off the burglars to some extent.

The human spirit is an indomitable one, so someone found out that if the clock was meddled it would stop ticking and so would the disc too. The tell tale clock was so quelled for sometime. Then I constructed a firm box like structure all around the clock with only the lever for punching visible. Now that was check mate. So the ticking of the tell tale clock continued much to the boys chagrin and to my smug pleasure.

TELL TALE CLOCK

The picture I have given below is almost similar to the one’s I used to handle.

INVINCIBLE GANGAMMA

This March 8^th, our friends teamed up and invited each other to name “the woman I admire most”.  Sure enough a majority ended up naming Mother Theresa or their own mom, some one named her daughter and one even her daughter in law (wise indeed!).  I sat rummaging to announce a really outrageous name such as Madonna, Naomi Campbell or Silk Smitha. Actually I really admire their beauty and their boldness at flaunting it.  I didn’t want to startle the ladies away, so I began thinking of some other name. Perhaps, my name?  But that would make me look like a Narcissus. So while scanning my memory for a more sedate name, in a moment of serious thought, the face of “Gangamma ” flashed through my mind. So I decided to talk about this Gangamma as the woman I admired most. Who is this Gangamma?  To explain that I need to take you some thirty years back.

            I was then beginning my college studies in a small town where we lived. My house was in the suburbs of the town and I had to travel by bus to reach my college which was in the other extreme end of the town. The suburbs could have their individual septic tank for waste disposal. But within the town area as the infrastructural facilities such was sewerage treatment plants were yet to be developed, the practice of collecting night soil was prevalent in the town area.  A group of sanitary workers will visit the privy of each house and collect the night soil and cart it off into a bullock cart. While this activity was going on the whole street will stink to heaven and hell. In fact we used to avoid using the street when we spotted the cart at the street end.

            The sanitary workers will chatter among themselves, fight and argue a lot loudly and spew the betel nut juice all over the street. But one lady stood out in this crowd. She was always neatly dressed in plain blue sari with a white blouse. Her hair was well oiled, neatly combed and collected in a bun at the back of her neck. I have never seen her chew betel nut or argue with the others. She would silently do her job with a blank face. She fascinated   me a lot.

As I have pointed out in my earlier blog, we used to visit a slum to do social service. Among the row of house wallowing in filth and dirt, one hut stood out. It was a small mud hut with a thatched roof. The wall was well white washed and sparkling in the sun. In front of the house, button roses planted in old buckets and battery containers were in full bloom adding beauty to the place. There was a small wooden plank doubling up for a door, but the doorway was well swept and cleaned with cow dung. The white kolam neatly drawn gave an almost holy appearance. Interested at this neatness amidst such poverty, I made my way to the house and looked inside. It was quite dark . I entered and found it cool. After some time my eyes got acclimatized to the darkness and I noticed that the house was clean, the floor was mopped with cow dung. There was a small shelf  and  the few copper vessels were so well washed they almost looked new. I peered with interest and there stood Gangamma smiling and inviting us to sit down. She was the sanitary worker I had noticed earlier. It was only during this meeting she gave me  her name. when I remarked about her neatness she thought over for some time and with a tinge of regret in her voice said “ My job is afterall to clean things, Right?”. Well she had a point there. It is not known if Gangaamma liked her job or not but it was evident that  fate had dealt her such a hard blow and created her as a sanitary worker, but she won over fate with her invincible spirit by keeping  herself and her home so impeccably clean.

MOUNTAINEERING SKILLS

     Each country has a unique way of kindling the adventure spirit of its fellow citizens. In the western society the thrill of pushing the limits of human endeavor might be reason enough to prod them on mountain climbing, extensive trekking, white water rafting ,  sky diving and what not. For the home bound compatriot like me, an entirely different impetus is required to stir us on. Yes, put a temple on the hill top and make us prod up. Open a temple in tiger reserve and embolden the common man to dare enter the beast’s realm. Well anyway, the result is achieved and a robust health is bestowed on the adventurer.

I’m basically an arm chair sportsman and exercise of any sort is strictly off my vocabulary. I would rather use a bike to cross the road rather than walk it up. For such a person, you will be amazed at my repeated attempts at mountaineering (well, at least small heights). My first attempt was an utter disaster which a sensible person will refrain from recollecting. We were in college then, and as part of the extra curricular activities we were asked to climb the Valanadu Hill which was close to our locality. This is a small hill with abundant flora and fauna. Our teacher split us into two batches and set us up on a competition in scaling the hill.  She needn’t have bothered, for from the very start our batch of bookworms was trailing and in fact I was bringing up the rear. When we were half way through, the other batch was returning after the climb. Some of my friends tried to motivate us saying there was a naked sadhu up the hill. But nothing could pep up our spirits, so our teacher ordered us down. This we did with great speed.

The next attempt was at the hill of Sravanabelagola, (also called Vindhyagiri or Per-kalbappu), which looms majestically at 3347 feet above sea level. From the base a flight of 614 steps, finely carved from the granite of the mountain, leads to the summit, where a great statue of Sri Gomatheswar stands. Just before the climb, as if by cue, my sister and I  some got into some kind of  a match of breaking the groundnut shell and popping the nut into our mouth.  we began feeling the after effects when  we started to climb those steps. The entire family containing old and very young  members had briskly climbed up while both of us were left mid way through. I explained to my sister that the hill was whirling while she corrected that it was our blockhead. We were at last left having covered only some 200 steps, holding our whirling head from spinning off and desperately clutching on to the floor. Well, we returned again defeated this time too.

It’s not for nothing they say “He who fights and runs away, will live to fight another day”. That could be said for climbing too. My third chance came when along with my colleagues and a family of military veterans went to the Vaishno devi shrine. The shrine is about 5200 feet above sea level. The 13km uphill walk to the Bhawan where the main deity is available took me a solid 6 hours. If not for the constant support, cheering and joking of my friends I could certainly not have made it. If my family members had been around they would have stopped me then and there and my mountain climbing adventures would have ended abruptly. But one fact came to light, my legs were strong and I did not have any limb pain but my lungs took a long time to acclimatize to altitudes. Once I got the hang of it , I made good progress. The next day, from Bhavan we proceeded to Bhairon Ghati (6619 feet above sea level) and my speed of ascend left everybody (including me) gasping.

My next attempt was to Thirupathi. This hill of about 3200 feet above sea level, which is roughly 11 km and over 4000 steps took me a whole six hours to climb. It is said that some veterans finish in less than three hours.

By now  I don’t know whether I was becoming very religious or  a mountain trekker of sorts, for I have climbed the Kottamalai hills near Padavedu. There is an ancient temple of Sri Venugopala swamy that has been discovered and renovated recently. It is open only on Saturdays. It is about 2500 feet above sea level. One has to travel on a specially designed tractor through the ghat road upto certain distance. Further up we had to climb about 350 steep steps to reach the temple.  The steps lead through beautiful iron bridges which cling to the sides of the mountain. The breath taking views make you forget your puffing and panting. But I climbed the height with a much lesser effort than my previous attempts.

My latest triumph was the Shollingur hills. Here there are two hills, each with a temple at the top. The big hill is only 500 feet above sea level with about 1300 steps which is the abode of Lord Narasimhar. The smaller hill which is completely dwarfed by the bigger hill is only about 200 feet and there are 400 steps to climb. While I accomplished the bigger hill with ease, trying the smaller hill too at a stretch made it difficult.  Anyhow I completed the feat.  At this rate, who knows one day I might end up climbing the Mt. Everest too!

REACTION IN THE FACE OF CALAMITY

The word tsunami entered into the vocabulary list of most of the people in the world only after the Dec 2004 debacle. Notwithstanding the fact that this natural disaster occurs quite often in Japan and other such extreme eastern countries, with live coverage on TV and net, the disaster was brought even closer home. The images we saw were heart rendering and proved the insignificance of man against the might of nature abused. But tsunami is not really a new term, it has been there and it has occurred in the past too.        My first knowledge of the terminology came when I was probably in the fifth standard where, in the prose lesson there was the story of an old man who realizes that the tsunami was fast approaching the village. As he is very short of time he rings the village bell which is available in the temple over the hilltop. This bell is a holy one and tradition demands that it be rung only on very special religious occasions. But our “old man at the bell” rings on and he stops ringing only after the entire village has assembled in the high ground. The villagers demand an explanation to his impertinent behavior. Right then the huge wave rises and drops just short of the hilltop. The entire village below is wiped out but by the presence of mind of the elderly man no life is lost. The villagers then thank him, but we at standard five didn’t, as we were particularly irritated with this lesson for we found it very difficult to remember the spelling of the word tsunami. 

            I presume the big wave that “Kalki” refers to in his “Ponniyin Selvan” is indeed the tsunami and the huge waves find a word in “Silapathikaram” too. But as they were so well into the past the impact was less. The tsunami during 2004 showed the world that the Indians were very emotional and grieved quite demonstratively. Physical attributions such as beating one’s stomach or chest with hands and wailing uncontrollably although common to an Indian were shocking to the eye of the foreigner. When I heard them comment about this I felt perplexed for I know of no other way of grieving. I personally felt that only showed the family values that an Indian so believes in

            The tsunami that struck Japan on 11^th March 2011 was an eye opener of sorts. I was amazed to see that in spite of the line up of misfortunes that seemed to befall the fellow Japanese, they were a totally passive, composed and committed lot. Every paper commented that there was no looting, there was no gate crash for essentials, and there were no tears. Each Japanese face was a contour of grim determination. If they had any sorrow it was private property and not for public display. Honestly I respected the Japanese for their honesty and solidarity but a few more tears seemed more appropriate to the departed souls. Now, I stop my self from pondering further for perhaps now I am like the foreigner who commented on my exhibition of grief.

I must reiterate that the patience of the Japanese, their boldness in the face of such mammoth disasters amazed me. Not one but a line up of mishaps- an earthquake that triggers a tsunami, a number of after shocks, the lone eruption of a volcano, the biting cold which were natural and  the explosion of the nuclear reactors .

I feel all the more confused; how on earth a land that has already experienced the devastations of an atom bomb opt for a nuclear power source. How on earth a land that is geographically plagued by volcanoes and earth quakes dare to embark on such a disastrous project.

I can only pray for Japan.

CHILD LABOUR

The moment you switch on the TV, the first thing that beams on the blue screen are the advertisements. In fact most of the channels, if not all channels, take up most of the prime air time with advertisements. Gone are the days when ladies ruled the roost in modeling, even for products as masculine as a motor bike. For one, motorbike is no longer construed as masculine and next children have become better models of late.

            You see kids selling baby products, cars, and above all, hold your breath even insurance policies. Previously motorbike sellers used women models as they felt they could get the attention of the male population by beaming a sexy lady . Now we all know that children are most attracted to kid movies, cartoons and kid pictures. So obviously if the seller wishes to get the attention of his target population -the children, it was best to use kids. But now, mobile phones advocate the strength of their signal with a boy and his pet dog, children sell jewels, bridal costumes and more the insurance companies employ kids to sell their policy packages ! Certainly, no normal child would be interested in policies. If that be the case, why use them. That is because, children with their innocent façade have the capacity to attract the attention of the grown ups. In fact all the babies both animal and human are created sweet and cute, as they are utterly helpless and they require “looking after” to survive. Their cute chubby, baby fat looks are not accidental; in fact they are in fact created by evolution for a selfish purpose.

            Well I’m straying, my topic here is not “Beauty of Babies”, it is instead “Prevention of Child labor”. At the international level, each nation has evolved Juvenile protection laws and Child labor prevention acts. Stringent mechanisms have been developed to ensure that the children are not exploited. Free Primary education for all children, has been vigorously campaigned by various NGO especially in villages and poverty alleviation programmes have been announced and implemented by governments in earnest. With so much of monitoring and attention, it really amazes me as to how making children model for advertisement escape the watchful eye of the law. It makes me wonder:   

Is  exploitation of well fed children not a crime ?

Is child model not child laborer ?

Are those tender kids not put to health hazards by over exposure to those bright lights?

Will not their character and attitude be damaged by this celebrity status that they get at such early age?

Will their education not be hampered by their shooting call sheets?

The one consolation is, they are paid hefty amounts and at least they do not starve.

FAMILY MATTERS

Several economists might have their pattern of research to calculate the gross household income, the ultimate GDP, the per capita income and other such hi fi economic and fiscal terms. I for one, am quite weak in maths and other money related aspects. But the people at the grass root level always astonish me with their very naive and excellent way of managing all these astoundingly difficult terminologies. Their business acumen is par excellence.

The common house wife with very little academic background is your typical expert in money churning. With the paltry income that the husband brings home, she provides food ( four square - at times)  on the table for the family, arranges the children's education ,when they grow up get them a job, marry them off later, makes sure each and every festival on the calendar is celebrated with sufficient gusto , required quantity of gold is purchased and above all she has some left over to run her small scale "finance company - of lending , pawning and chits". This always amazes me, for most of this goes on without the knowledge of her husband. Maybe our financial experts should take a lesson or two from her.

James A Michener's " Huawei" dwells on one such character. a Chinese immigrant who is silently behind the scene business-tycoon who lifts her family from rags to riches and makes them the number one richest family in the land.

Closer home, when we were in the college, it was mandatory to either join the National Cadet Corps or be part of the National Social Services. I joined with the NSS. We visited the villages nearby and tried to do some social work for them. They tolerated us with a smile. The village we visited was in the coastal area with predominantly fisher folk population. They had huge families. I enquired one lady how come they had such huge families and continue to bring more and more members of their family into the miserable life they were leading. She had an interesting answer. “It ensures the family income stays within our family itself". "How come" i asked? she said " two of my sons go with their father to fish, two small boys not yet big enough to venture into the sea will tend the nets, two girls will sell the catch in the streets, while a bunch of other brats will help dry the fish. Back home, the bigger kids will take care of their younger siblings and also complete the household chores. I and my mother-in-law will go out to do some house maid jobs and supplement the family income. If so many kids were not there, I would have to hire outsiders. How do you think I could pay them?”. Well I did not have a reply then nor do I have one now. The country’s economist better watch out.
The moral of the story- the very rich and the very poor cannot be brought under any bracket of assumptions.

Home alone

They say man is a social creature. He loves to be in a group, he hates being alone , these are some of the prevailing assumptions of the homosapien. think again, heart of heart everyone wants to be left alone. they are skeptical about making new acquaintances and as far as possible avoids mingling with others. it is only due to the compulsions of survival that he is forced to live in a group , hunt / earn in a group and die in one.
i can elaborate this theory. have you ever noticed how people seat themselves in buses and other such public areas, where the seat number is not already allotted?. they choose to sit as far apart from each other. only when all single seats are taken do they opt for the sharing one. Sharing is utterly not in the natural vein of man. it is sheer manners that he is forced to tolerate the neighbour or even more accurate the family member.
i recently had an opportunity to be Home alone for  two days. i began with a real enthusiastic mind set. i settled on the sofa with the TV remote in hand, a bottle of water and a bowl of snacks, i surfed the channels to my hearts content with no interruption, Until ....
the bells began to toll. the door bell rang. i rose laboriously to answer it only to notice that it was a visitor enquiring some address. then the phone bell rang , than the squirrel entered the kitchen and kept screeching to its friends and foes to help him loot my larder. well the bubble was broken. Being home alone is only added portfolio - you have to finish the work of your kiths and kin.