Morampudi

It is my village...a village where I was born....no...a village founded by my great great parents..they say some two hundred years ago......yes...MORAMPUDI...what was once also called MOHIRALA PUDI.............

I would await Summer vacation each year ardently....one whole month we would be gone on holidays .....
It is an awesome village. Hugging  the far bank of the seemingly mighty  Buckingham canal between Tenali and Mangalagiri. The canal takes a lovely bend over a stretch of two kilometers as far as the eye could see; lined with lovely  trees that bloomed in to red flowers in spring on both banks of the canal...both sides of the canal seemingly touching on the horizon at both ends.either which way you looked ..it was  indeed an amazing site . Of course the look had been disfigured a bit now, what with a clumsy looking foot bridge being built across this stretch. The village had a railway station a very small station of its own , and buses plied on both sides of the canal on service roads. standing on the banks of the canal you could see the red silhouette of a bus...first the appearance on the horizon and then the roar of the engines as it approached you ..increasing in size by each second ..a brief halt on the opposite bank and again till the eye saw it off on the horizon..

In many ways coming to this village made me feel proud as a child as early as I could remember.The village by itself was not big, may be a few hundred houses, a main arterial road which in those days was a kutcha track and a few streets...towards the far end of the village is a beautiful temple.
As I ran around the village with gay abandon I was amazed that everyone recognised me in the village...as I would whiz past running in my long shorts and seldom with a shirt (making sounds as if I was driving a scooter)..some old woman would observe isn't he Vardhani's son..he looks like her....the whole village seemed to adore my mother Giri Vardhani.

Some two hundred years ago or so I was told one of my great grand parents discovered a well when he was thirsty..it is said that the water was so sweet  he decided to build a village there...so the village  was raised and as they began excavation they encountered mohiras(gold coins) from Sri Krishna Devarayas time....hence the name ..Mohirala Pudi and  Morampudi; I am not sure the village came first or the Canal  because it was built between 1806-1873, The Buckingham canal.

My grandfather of whom I do not remember much was a freedom fighter, he was a landlord who gave away much of his lands in philanthropy....a true Gandhian who courted arrest and went to the Rajahmundry jail for an year and a half as part of the Great National Freedom Struggle....an aspect that always widened my otherwise slender chest. Those of us who got down from the bus on the far bank had to go on a raft (BALLA KATTU) as it was called. While the boatman would take money from one and all he never took money from me..it was as if he knew whose grandson I was and I later learned that my grandfather would give them grain in charity each year after the harvest.

My grandfather's house was in a street, a street all by itself even to this day. four huge houses all interlinked with doors, it was a maze that one could go through from one house to the other, all the houses sharing a huge common well with the sweetest of water one could taste; as I grew stronger in each of my visits I would learn to fetch water from the well with a bucket , a true test of my strengthening arms.  Life was always like a festival... a carnival....on the out skirts of the village along the banks of the canal one of my grandfather's brothers established a mill that would make flour, atta chakki if you could call it. In those days he owned an ambassador car a sure  sign of wealth and prosperity. the village didn't have electricity for long and the only railway station which my grandfather brought to the village  was shut down due to lack of ptaronage much later. Right Opposite our street was the house of a famous Telugu actor K Jaggayya a house that still stands firm with its nice white pillars probably being enjoyed by some of his heirs...sometimes during our vacation rumours would have it  that he is in the village and we would all line up to catch a glimpse of him.
The icing of the cake was the Temple itself...built and contributed by all the people of the village over  decades it has engravings of all our family members their cousins and all......it was where we would visit every evening which would culminate in my mother Girivardhani singing devotional songs followed by  prasadam.

Alas! with the advent of development , the village stands almost deserted; with modern education most of our relatives left the village for white collar jobs..and what was once a great splendour stands in ruins, old dilapidated houses renovated and occupied by the poor people of the village. Our ancestral house where we were all born including my mother , the house where my mother got married ( so did my brother) still stands firm; the mud house built with lime and mortar..only a concrete column has now been built to  support the roof in th ecntre of the house....My uncle an octogenarian eldest of the sons of my grandfather still holds the Fort....my nostalgia would always take me there..once in a few years only to remind of the glory of the by gone era and the ruins of modernism that drove away our peasants from villages to cities and from proud farmers to identityless labourers.

The Kite

Have you ever made a kite ..really I am asking one that could fly? These days you don't have to make kites you could buy one, in fact people would laugh at you if you tried to make one because they are available at any decent store; you could buy a simple colourful paper kite or an expensive plastic kite. I learned to make a kite from my Little Uncle; knowledge of which i tried to pass on to my Son many years later.

I don't know why but certain things especially concerning creative things were not encouraged in my house when I was a toddler that time and rightly so did not understand many a things. summer vacation was the ideal setting for my learning. vast expansive meadows unfettered freedom to roam around the country side, and more than anything else the august company of my Little Uncle who seemed to have magic hands;that could create anything and everything...I was proud of him..and proud of being his Associate in many a scientific Experiments. We made many kites(he made many);actually I was his assistant or you could call a resource manager managing things that were required for the immediate mission........a quality which I would refine as the years went by that is .....Accomplish Mission At Any Cost...

More often than not it would always start with me....I mean the idea that we should make a Kite...I would heap a world of praise on this Uncle of mine..(an art again I would master as years went by that would come handy)..and prime him up for the coming event ..Kite Making...the setting would be perfect...we would select a Day ...a day on which my father would be away on a two day camp; those days he went on camps knowledge of which was passed on by mom and uncles and aunts in a rather loud fashioned way by announcing it to any persons who would come to enquire about him at the doorstep. My Mother would walk up to the Door and tell the person enquiring that my father was away on a Camp....

I am not sure if I was really afraid of my father but it certainly gave us especially me ...the prankster... a lot of elbow room to do what I wanted to do , break open locked old trunks, steal some snacks from the kitchen..play for long hours late in to the evening (for today's kids read fridge).

so the first task for making a kite was to get a news paper;since all the newspapers were sold ( I don't know why but we still do it even now) they were at a premium. Of course the news papers then were not as colourful as they are now. As i said my task was to gather resources...so after a paper it was next mission to steal a cup of rice which we used as an instant gum...we dint have the modern day luxury of a gum stick or an adhesive...cooked rice was the best..only it left an awful smell in the hand once the job was done.

most difficult task was to manage a few coconut leaf sticks(sorry i don't know if I had expressed clearly). we had two options one was a difficult option two pluck a coconut leaf from the tree and rip open the green portion for the fresh stick in between ....the second option was to steal a few sticks from the coconut stick broom .
each option had a rather associated risk with it. Plucking a leaf was a challenge..with the physical risk of falling to ground while plucking ; not that we had to climb a tree to pluck...all we had to do was to climb the terrace and reach out for the coconut tree in the neighbours house. reaching out for the tender hands was a difficult task especially if you had to climb onto the rather narrow parapet wall on the terrace: those were different days ....when children were not supervised most of the day....you wee considered good if you knew your multiplication tables and did your home work...even if you pretended you did.
The second option of stealing a few sticks from the broom (kobbari cheepiri) was not actually a pleasant experience......Those were the days when my father worked as a government servant in remote villages...villages that dint have lights...and not even lavatories; of course it would a real difficult thing for kids of this generation to understand that..what with cozy bathtubs and sleek showers.
The latrines we had were kind of cleaned by a sweeper who came around noon and cleaned with a coconut broom . of course he brought his own broom , but the one broom we had was kept near the lavatory.....apart from making sure it was perfectly clean before I could pick up a few sticks. The risk was getting noticed especially from the prying eyes of my grandma and the risk of opening up the whole boom if I was found wanting in my skills to do this job rather cleanly.

so a newspaper and few sticks of coconut sticks , a cup of rice, having been obtained the next mission was to mange a blade. I can now proudly say that I was the only guy in the house who could be relied upon to get anything on the tiptoe...well it was not difficult for me to to pick up an used blade from my fathers razor from the toilet which was at a respectful distance from the main house.....afternoon was the ideal time when all the ladies including my granny were taking a good nap. of curse I would play with my dads razor...a razor he would use for many long years , one made in japan. the speciality of the razor as I discovered was that it had a small lever at the bottom of its handle which when turned opened the upper casing which house the blade.
The general rendezvous for our clandestine missions was the terrace...a place nobody visited except for removing the dried up clothes much later in the evening.

Having gathered all the resources I would watch in utter fascination as my little uncle who is barely elder to me by five years prepare the KITE....I would watch each detail with wondering eyes ; he had deft and skillful hands..I am sure he wouldn't mind if I revealed that he had soft silky hands much like a girls hands..,,what with having inherited the lovely complexion of my grandma. Cutting the newspaper by folding it in to a square was the first task and sticking up the coconut sticks with paper and rice gum at the perfect place by arching the coconut stick was the next skillful act. This having bean done and after drying for while he wet about tying the thread..which he would call SUTRAM..in Telugu:that I suppose was the trade secret of making a kite that could fly....for that he used his hands to measure distances with an opened hand and fingers. Making a long tail and decorating the kite was the next logical step...with this the Kite was almost done.....

Yet there was a hitch.....to fly it we would need a long twin thread. since we didn't have the luxury of pocket money we could never ever buy anything on our own. In those difficult days of financial crisis when my father was making both ends meet no unnecessary expenditure was encouraged......and all those activities which we otherwise now qualify as creative week ends in summer vacation camps were frowned down upon as a waste of time...a time rather well spent doing maths for the next session in school when the school reopened.

so the kite couldn't be flown because we dint have the TWINE....the task of managing the twine was left to me...from my fathers Office work which he did at home...long sheaves of papers(which were called ..TP3...(god knows what it meant)... that gave out a farmers tobacco produce tied up with a strong twine. I knew that there were spare bundles in an Almirah....on the top shelf...a place nobody not even my mom or my grown up uncles cloud lay their hands on. The little Resource Manager in me...would take the risk of pocketing one bundle without being noticed..the time and means of achieving that objective was purely my ingenuity...an after noon when everyone is taking a siesta...standing on the arms of a wooden chair to reach for the top shelf....on such occasions I realised that my adrenal would pump and I had this uncanny feeling of an unkown thrill..which I would realise later in life ...........a quality you could classify as RISK ADDICTION..

My uncle was a master in flying kites ...we would run to the long meadows at the end ofthe village...and he would fly the kite...in no time. I would be holding up the kite with my naughty but tiny hands waiting for the wind..when the wind rushed in the open meadows he would command ..leave..and off it would fly...much higher as he unwound the bundle of the twine....at the end of the day I would always wish we had more twine so that the kite could fly..higher...

Pocket full of Marbles......

Hey....don't get any funny ideas , I really mean the marbles...a pocketful of them. Walking past the unending Ambiance Mall in Gurgaon.......on a Sunday that I had to while away...........I could not but envy the luxuries a modern day child enjoyed with all the amenities....thanks to a whirlwind globalization of this still largely rural country... The kids were having a gala time in that Mall....Pizzas,pastas and subway burgers....video parlors...eats and stalls that one found difficult to chose what with the choices one had on offer.....but there was a difference...I wondered ......do these children ever get to play the kind of games that we got to play as kids and toddlers...leaning on that stainless steel railing my thoughts wandered involuntarily to those good old times....times when I had no toys .....no video games.......but a plethora of options..to play the age old games which seem surely headed for extinction.
I was born into a large family.....my grandfather I am told expired the year in which I was born ( an issue my grand mother would always raise with rancour ....as if the two had any co-relation ,drawing some objections from my mother,which I never understood in those times...he died of a malignant brain tumor I am told) .... they were ten of them my uncles and aunts....five and a five....the elder aunts having got married ..the responsibility of rearing the rest having been rested on the shoulders of my young father and a vibrant mother.

so obviously a lot of economy was professed and every thing was strictly on a need basis.There were no toys and didn't know such things existed...the remotest toy that I played with was one made from a coconut leaf.....well if you did not know how to make I can show you one...or some set of wooden toys passed down in seniority (a toy of chocolate brown wood that looked like an Egyptian mummy).
But there were other games we got to play....what with a big band of brothers, sisters and uncles and aunts that we had...including the neighbors we could easily muster up a team of ten ....most decent game that was encouraged was Nela-banda, a games in which we had one unfortunate fellow who had to chase people standing on either the ground or some concrete surface ..it was much fun as it gave me ample opportunities to jostle with my aunts and uncles and the friendly girls in the neighborhood.....the next most popular game was hide and seek..which some times even the elders seem to take part in ..like on a few occasions I found my location was given away by my grandma with a wink of an eye to one of uncles or aunts....it was her favorite game...possibly the only one she could umpire on ....others being little more outdoor and physical.
There were some games only girls played..Tokkudu billa, or game played with tamarind seeds..chinta pikkalu ...which they threw up and caught deftly with one hand...I suppose what ever they caught successfully they got to keep for themselves....that is when I was subjected to gender bias...when I was told it was not a boys' game. There were some exclusives games we boys played..like climbing trees like monkeys...kotikommachii...where in one bloke kept chasing us on the trees as we moved from branch to branch..it was a game not encouraged by the elders as it would cause physical damage......if we had a fall.

There were two games which were discouraged...but drew my interest....marbles and billam kodu (gilli danda) ...gilli danda was a fascinating game which I could never master no matter how much I tried.... I dint see my son play that game so I suppose it must be existing only in villages and may soon be extinct unless some one started a campaign to save it. It had two sticks one small one ,whose edges were sharpened..called the billam or a (Gilli in hindi for my hyderabadi friends)....and a longer stick the kodu or the danda.one had to first hit the smaller one up in air and swing the larger one like a bat to send the gilli as far as it could...the farther it went the better...and when it was in the air if some one caught it you were out....of course the that was the riskiest part...what with edges sharpened like mini knives. So on one fateful day in the evening I landed up at the house on the tip toe with a swollen eye. The gilli having done its damage from a hit from my stronger friend....The whole household seemed to be descending on me...my mother administering a hot massage with a wet warm cloth, sympathetic cute looking aunts that gathered around to see the extent of damage.....and the condescending running commentary of my strict granny in the background; why she forbade that abominable game in the first place. In those days the real threat came from my granny because whatever my misdeeds or mischievous acts were camouflaged or hidden from my father by the rest of the house hold, my grandmother never pleased with my performance , would give me up like a traffic cop to my dad the moment he arrived home after a day's long tiring work....that often brought admonishes.....more often than not my mother was hauled up for improper supervision of children ..as if it was her only portfolio... while my uncles and aunts exchanged little supporting wry smiles when I was hauled up on such occasions ...I could not but notice the utter satisfaction on my granny's face....she always believed that the culprit should be brought to book. so that was the end of that "Gilli Danda" game for me.

There was yet another game very popular with us kids(boys only)....the marbles. I first noticed them when I began to go to school at the age of five. they came in bright vibrant colors of all hues and shades. The first set of few marbles were gifted to me by a set of generous friends in the neighborhood...they were my class mates ..a set of twins who looked exactly alike....Naushad and Nishad ( I wonder where they are now) . It was an interesting games wherein one had to drop the others marbles in to a pit made with one's heel in the ground by hitting them accurately with a finger using the thumb as a fulcrum. Perhaps that was the first game which i began to fancy and seem to excel in some manner ...as my count went up of my proud collection of marbles...as the game allowed a boy to retain the marbles he won by putting them in the hole..something I would quite feel familiar when I would learn to play golf many years later. The biggest challenge was to hide the marbles from the elders...especially my granny. We had those huge shorts with large pockets...(don't get confused with those cargo shorts of today's children ...they were a far cry from them by any means..at the best they resembled the despicable shorts of the Andhra Police)....so the marbles would make noise....as I ran in to the house....no matter how bets I tried to hide them.....one day one red color marble rolled out from no where.....and my poor granny was almost seemed to have tripped over it (at least that is what she claimed to )..and again the blaming fingers seemed to have pointed towards me....though partly I was covered by my Tom sawyer uncle who was just elder to me by five years......but I was told in no uncertain terms that I should never play marbles in the streets as it an becoming street urchin game. The storm having been weathered I shipped all my marbles successfully to my twin friends possession... they were a decent trustworthy friends who kept my possessions safely.

Those were days when I was studying in the primary School of the village.......I really do not remember how many of us were there in the class...all I remember was the gong that we awaited to go off signaling the end of the school.....the school was more of play than any studies...at least there were no homework nor any exams ..till I was in my third grade. It was to be fateful day..with marbles....as usual I was up to my full prowess..having won many a marble that morning.. my pockets full of marbles..... when one of my friends objected to the Marble I had putt in....that was my first fist fight...being a frail kid I was overpowered..by that non vegetarian eating friend...my shirt buttons torn apart....the huge loose shorts half way down....mud in my face....I put up a brave fight back with what I could..soon the other class mates gathered .....and there was a large congregation of kids and gleeful spectators. I was putting up a bitter fight...having received a few punches...on my face...i started tugging at the hair of my attacker realizing that was my only chance to afflict maximum damage and get even. Then I heard a familiar voice from the crowd.....isn't he your son.....my father's colleague was asking him loudly..... a look of desperation and frustration was unmistakable to notice on my fathers solemn face...as they walked on.....

That was yet another fateful day when it was to be my last day of playing marbles......that evening my father when he reached home took charge of all my elderly uncles and aunts....for not grooming me properly...from then on wards my arrival and departure times from the house were monitored.....and I was subjected to intense sessions of recitations of multiplication tables....what with any mistake translating in to hundreds of repetitions on one slate and a slate pencil............

Still as I gazed from the glittering stairs of that mall I was overcome with nostalgia of my childhood.... I pitied those kids who would never play those games I got to play....no wonder most of them were already overweight what with equally obese mothers pampering them.....

MOLA TADU

I do not know what its equivalent is in English ( Lion thread) .....but it was a major factor ....without which I could never go out,that enigmatic string that comes in two distinct colors RED and Black; do not ask me when we must wear the red one and when the black one...any way you were barred from asking questions those days.....for a simple reason ,you never got answers.
It was always to be worn......don't go out without that was like a commandment. It came in two colors red and black.....red was always preferred over black....(I suppose black was for girls),but what ever it was part of our attire one we could never abandon. If it was worn out and we were moving about without it a lot of noise was made to replace it with utmost haste. As I grew up I realized it was quite a handy tool for my mother to handle the toddlers. It was used to hang holy talisman to keep the evil spirits away,to hang some safety pins.

But the issue wouldn't have stuck in to my juvenile mind but for some unpalatable memories. As toddlers many areas of the house hold were out of bounds...that too in some particular time zones ,like my mother after her bath was not to be touched till my granny had her lunch....a rule I found totally resentful even at that innocent age......perhaps that was the first of fundamental rights I had to lose very early in life.... in such awkward moments my grandmother used to tie me up to the window grill......using the "mola tadu" I suppose thankfully the practice seems to have stopped with the modern kids what with mothers fussing and fretting over their single or max two children.

The thread that was tied rather tightly around our waist that we called molatadu had its advantages too. Those were the times we wore large shorts.. Perhaps the design of shorts for kids in those days inspired by Andhra Police shorts ...that were very huge but covered nothing if one bent down.....(what with no concept of under wears ). Unfortunately there were no fancy malls or ready made garment shops in those remote villages so each of those abominable shorts were tailored by the only tailor of the village . More over its not that we wore custom made shorts......the dresses and garments were recycled from the elder sibling to the younger as per their seniority....being a large family there were ample choices though....in most cases the shorts were ill fitting and used to slip down the slender waist as we ran around the neighborhood... the thread around our waist Molatadu was quite handy in keeping sanity to our privacy.

Perhaps the thread was more of support to tie the lion cloth in olden times ....and has no scientific relevance ....in these days of a variety of undergarments to choose from....but the tradition I suppose goes on .....

blog archives 2008

Saturday, October 4, 2008

cackling of geese saved my english

English is by far the most expressive of languages..even in comparison to some very sweet and soft languages of our country. In our country ironically you could face the peril of being dubbed as an illiterate if you dint have your English right...

I had the privilege of going to village schools till my primary education.Unlike the current day kindergarden schools class one started with slates and graduated to pencil and paper only in later years.......English was taught in slow motion emphasis being on the vernacular....my first lessons in English were administered to me by my mom who herself never went to a school but her tutor came home and taught her up to 7 Th standard...such luxury doesn't exist anymore no matter how much we may wish to....
Not withstanding the profound foundation that I had in English I made earnest efforts to improve my English in my formative years....soon i was acclaimed as a good student of English. This transformation in schooling years was largely attributable to my exposure to Dickens,Dumas and Hardy ....and the literary like.

Almost past my midlife...lazing on a Sunday noon I cursorily picked up a book of Wren and Martin and flipping through the first few pages decided to take random test of the first exercise on SUBJECT AND PREDICATE.

The first question was to identify subject and predicate of the sentence "CACKLING OF GEESE SAVED ROME"...I decided after much deliberations that Rome was too important not to be the subject and cackling of geese to be the predicate..it was an abject mistake as I realised from the key provided with the book....my ego so high was burst like a balloon pricked by a pin.....I realised it's never too late to be grammatically right......I revisited the correct definition of a subject and a predicate in all humility.....on a lighter note..cackling of geese saved my English..and I began to read English grammar afresh from page one......thank you scorpigel it's cackle.....

Monday, September 8, 2008

PRETEND DOCTOR

Have you ever travelled on Vijay Mallaya's ...King Fisher air lines...well if you haven't you should...i had the pleasure once of being pampered on a recent flight to Timbuktu...and no wonder i told my travel agent to book my return flight too on the same airlines.....
As i reached the airport i knew that my agent booked me on the low fare Air Deccan....an air line i detest for its stiff upright seat if not for anything else.....now i am told it has become a full adjunct of the King Fisher.............anyways!!!!!!!!!!!!
As the air Craft began it's steep ascent...from the run way....I could see some trouble brewing in the front row......i was some where near the tail end....having volunteered for a window seat.....no matter how much I fly i cant get over this obsession to sit by a window...the lure of seeing clouds and streaks of natures golden hues of sun and horizon always draw me to the window seat....
Some passenger wasn't feeling well one could see the air hostess giving some extra attention to a passenger in the first seat of the first row....some 20 rows away from me....
There were three pretty young ladies hosting us in the air craft and all of them seemed to have been pressed in to the service of this one man who seemed to have been in a spot of bother....the aircraft by now levelled off.....and seat belt fastening sign was ....off.....lot of clattering metal noise as many a passenger just snapped free the seat belts and made way for the toilets in the front and rear of the aircraft.....I some how prefer to keep the belt on.....i believe always expect the unexpected when in an aircraft....being a man trained for disasters ..looks like disaster awaits at every turn....

The quiver in the young pretty air hostess voice was very evident as she announced.....IS THERE ANY DOCTOR ABOARD...IF SO PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF......ONE OF the PASSENGERS IS UNWELL..........in my years of flying.....it was the first instance of its kind that ever happened....the tension in the aeroplane was quite palpable....the passengers were looking at each other......waiting for this doctor to stand up like it happens in a movie....five minutes passed by and the fact no one stood and walked meant there wasn't any doctor aboard.....by now all the air hostesses were still busy handling the patient...one of them holding an oxygen cylinder..and other visibly up set making repeated calls for the elusive doctor on board.....soon a visibly up set pilot who might have been informed too came from the cockpit and had a look the situation and went back.......it was obvious that there wasn't any doctor on board....a two hour flight...20 minutes gone i was wondering what the hell was happening.......

Years of training on disaster management and crisis management creeps in some amount of confidence in you....and not so surprisingly enough i found myself heading for the front end of the air craft..
he must have a been a man in his late 20s.....sandwiched between the man and body of the air craft was this brave air hostess holding on to a heavy oxygen cylinder in one hand and pressing the mask in place of the patient with another..one more gal was holding his hand....and trying to calm him...I bent down and took his wrist...and took count of his pulse....what was it a thumping 84.....i could sense a look of relief on the young faces around...as i knelt beside this distressed man...........i felt his palms........and his feet they were cold but they weren't sweating profusely ......i just told the air hostess..to take off the oxygen mask....she did so like an obedient nurse does when the doctor tells her.....by now I quite assumed the role of the doctor...and i was surprising myself...at my ability to handle a patient....the mask taken off i started talking to the patient.....he was quite coherent in speech ....a KPO professional he said he was and even explained what KPO was ....and complained of chest pain and sever burning sensation ....what ever it was i knew....he wasn't very serious patient...for common sense told me if he really hard a cardiac arrest ...of a severe kind he should have gone in to a partial coma by now....so kept talking to him....making him breathe..and doing relaxation exercises i learnt few years back to cope up with panic attacks and panic situations...I asked the air hostess if she had any medicines or any anti anxiety drugs in first aid box...she said she had only a digene tablets...i said lets give him that if nothing it will have the placebo effect......i noticed he was responding quite well and started talking more....I asked of his wife and he was recently married ....i knew that talking of his dear ones would always bring one to some kind of relief and expectancy and desire to live more.....after every few minutes he would complain of severe pain in the chest....by now i was quite convinced that it was a case of severe claustrophobia.....or acidity mixed with claustrophobia that had driven this man in to utter panic and set off all symptoms of a cardiac arrest...I kept talking.......and made him talk...giving him all stories...soon this fellow who was struggling for breath minutes back...was smiling....and was willing to guess the age of the air hostess attending him for last hour or so....he guessed that i am a man past his half way mark....but accurately predicted that the pretty lady attending to him was no more than 24......the young air hostess who so far was looking more stressed out than him couldn't help breaking in to peels of giggles...by now i had taken charge of our patient and was quite happy that he was responding to my commands....now i ordered that he is making a pathetic sight of himself...lying on the floor of the aircraft all his shirt buttons strung apart....following ...my commands he buttoned up shoes and socks in place and finally convinced him he should sit in the seat up right....to my surprise...we had consumed almost an hour by now and the plane was getting ready to descend....as we talked more we got the patient to have a hot cup of tea.....and we talked more and soon the wheels touched the tarmac....i just stood up only to realise what attention i drew in the aircraft...all eyes seemed to be glued on me..i just picked up my cabin baggage and walked away..first one to disembark...more than the patient ...the cabin crew seemed more relieved...
As for me i surprised myself that i could assume the role of the doctor......as i waited for my bag at the baggage claim area a fellow passenger came and complimented me..well done doctor he said....i just nodded my head and breezed past...before i got more attention....or ..worse one more patient...enough of pretending to be a doctor .....for two hours..i thought.... AS FOR ME I WAS LUCKY IT TURNED OUT HE WASN'T A REAL CARDIAC PATIENT...ELSE I WOULD NT KNOW WHAT I COULD HAVE DONE........A PRETEND DOCTOR

Friday, September 5, 2008

AGE BEAUTIFULLY

Nine years after marriage....one day i was waiting with my young wife.......for our turn to get in to the ...telephone booth.....there was a young lady......of 20 ..may be busy on the phone ...for a uncomforting length of time .....it was an almost agonising wait .....me and my better half exchanging glances....after few more patient minutes she breezed out of the booth....looking at me....in to the eyes she asked coolly " uncle what is the time" and gave questioning look to my wife....................my wife couldn't help laughing ...she was all giggling .....like a school girl..it was first time some one called me an uncle.....

That night i had a deep look at my self......in the mirror.....what was i ....eyes looked tired a bit....but i seemed to be same....me ..an uncle...hmm the gal must have been wanting to tease me or did she catch my wide eyed glance as she was busy on phone i don't know.....

A decade later i am too pained to see the distinct toll time had taken on me.....addition of spects for sure made me age more.....the wrinkles under the eyes are far more pronounced........ the little tyre around the belly doesn't seem to go ... no matter what i do.......as i look at myself as i walk past long mirrors in shopping malls....how i wish i was born 10 years late........
All good things of life ..seemed to have sprouted up ..much later in life........... where were all these....in my time i would wonder....fast bikes...gals in low waist jeans....fast chat rooms on net......malls.....and pubs...........one could only wish ...life was a cycle one could put back by a few revolutions.......
Now i know there is no fooling around.....AGE HAS CAUGHT UP WITH ME.......my son is almost four inches taller than me....my niece who was a baby when i was a honey mooner is a woman of substance now....what was once a thick black hair is now peeper and salt...my pretty wife still puzzles me though.... she doesn't seem to AGE AT ALL.......
Perhaps time has come for me to reconcile...that life will not be the same again.....may be i must take a leaf..out of her book and learn to age beautifully............

The secret of aging beautifully i realise is not to look at bygone years and worry about the fading skin and folding wrinkles.....but think of the golden moments of the past.....and live beautifully in the present in the correct perspective.....accept things o f life ....without too much strife....to surrender beautifully....to nature....from a young man..to an aging father ..to realise we have different roles now.....it will always be that ..the teasing mind would once in a while lure you in to unreal ...thoughts......desires and lust....just enough to mock at you......in a cynical way to remind you that u are aging......the art of living ....is to age beautifully.....with a beautiful mind............

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

what is for break fast...........

Even before i eat my dinner completely...i have this habit of asking my wife whats up for breakfast tomorrow....almost inevitably invoking her wrath.............i couldn't agree more with her....just when the lady has had enough for the day ( at least she think so) ..here is this gentlemen reminding her of the arduous task of getting ready for the next meal.......
Old habits die hard........from my child hood i was a foodie.........food and kitchen...were (are ) my favorite places......even now my wife tries to hide cashew nuts..and peanuts in the house..i am not lying ask her....why not...after all i believe we live to eat............
one day as a young man...i walked in to a married man's house (quite elder ) at break fast time.....he was getting ready and i had to give him a lift.. in my car...for a hungry bachelor i was sneakingly looking towards the kitchen...for some decent invite....for a delicious break fast....there was no sign....so i couldn't help asking..."ma'am what have you given sir in break fast"..... bread jam.....came the unfriendly answer.......i told him..sir ..if you have to eat bread as a married man...i pity you....it was a spontaneous outburst from me....poor him ..i felt

Many years later when i got married....i got a wedding card from that couple...down below...was scribbled ...."My wife wants to know what your wife cooks in break fast"....... that lady has still not pardoned me decades later...........fortunately for me.. i was lucky to get a wife who never repeats the same menu....for break fast......(except when she gets occasionally wedded to idly)....so i continue to ask her whats for break fast...
south Indians have a lot of choice for break fast.....some times i wonder if north Indians can ever think of anything other than...paratha....or double roti..... or oily poories with aloo...
when i was a small kid before i went to a boarding school there wasn't any concept of breakfast....i learnt this word in school...surely i had the privilege of studying in rural primary schools in some of the remotest villages....studying in lantern....and ..eating before sunset.....in those days there was no word called break fast
while we all children had .....chaddennam(left over rice of previous day)...occasionally my dad was served tiffin......we were six siblings ...(.i left the house for a boarding school when the seventh was born....so the figure continued to be same)....my youngest uncle and youngest aunt added to be eight ...kids to be fed in the morning...Since there was no concept of domestic helps in those days all the work shared by my mom..and some cooperative aunt....who wasn't too busy with her studies....the whole house hold wasn't any time less than 15 any time....there was much work to do for my mommy....so the break fast was made quite simple....

We had left over rice....what was called Chaddennamu...it had a unique taste of its own..first mom would inspect it if it was in order..by a simple aroma test...then ..the choice of what to eat was asked...it was the choice of pickle....we had wide range....from the traditional avakaya.magayaa....gongoora,..chinta kaya ,nimmakaya,etc....even kandi podi.(sorry for those who cant get what these are..these are tarditional andhra pickles)...with so many kids around almost....8 ...it was a difficult task to short list what to eat...somehow more often than not my choice would prevail...which was invariably..avakaya....obviously i used to make a claim for the mukka(the mango piece)....occasionally one of the younger aunts would volunteer to handle us in break fast while mom was busy dish washing the hard way....first pull water from a well..and handle those ...seemingly huge sized..brass vessels...on which were inscribed names of my maternal grand father....( i used to Wonder why..i was told much later they came with mom in marriage)...
Eight kids...eight plates to mess up and to be cleaned ....so when one of the younger aunts was handling this little entertaining break fast session...she would mix the Rice in one huge plate....and make laddoos...of the rice...each tender palm extended...and one huge ball o f rice eaten..bit by bit.....(many decades laterstill i yearn for that atmosphere).......i was the smart hog always..eating fast and out of turn..at the expense of others...This word BREAKFAST..i learnt only when i went to a boarding school.....something eaten in all solemnity...in uniforms...knives an forks clattering silently like a funeral music..it was quite a cultural shock for this...rustic boy..who was used to his CHADDENNAM.....

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

THE MONSOONS............

Dark cumulo nimbus clouds....continuous lightening..that seemed to tear apart the horizon...followed by rattling thunder....the build up to heavy rains.......always drew me to the comfortable lap of my mother.....she would answer all my eager questions....how god of wind varun and indra driving his chariot with white horses from indra lok...were bringing rain from there on she would take me in to the world of mythology...Ramayana ,Mahabharat and invariably my favorite Hanuman..

For a nation whose Sensex shoots up or down like a thermometer depending on the intensity of monsoons....the rains are a welcome relief....Rains to me a s a toddler...also meant bunking the upper primary school of the village..forget about rain capes...there were no umbrellas even ...the priority was quite low...with only the huge black umbrella reserved for dad to go to his office.....

The country side which I invariably explored like a Tom Sawyer...would begin to swell with streams and rivulets (vagulu..as they would call it in my native tongue)....the country side would change over night from a brown parched arid land to dotting green....like the gods from above laid a newly made green carpet......rains had only one negative point....my dad stopped buying mangoes once the first rains were received...he would say that it wasn't good to buy mangoes once rains set in.....

Who doesn't want to get wet in rain...show me one earthling...forget about homosapiens....every bit of Flora and fauna..seems to enjoy it...The rains occasionally brought VADA GALLU....little hail storm.....ice cubicles thrown from the sky... i remember this terrifying experience..as a little kid....deafening noise on the mangalore tiled roof....me and my sister pushing a bucket and collecting all the hails...of course they were taste less..pure water...with so many of us living in the house it was always interesting...my colourful aunts...giggling...and we all siblings finding a nice lap to sit on..and watch the chita pata...chinukulu....of the first rain..nice warm smell of hot earth being drenched in rain....

Me and my accomplice uncle used to practice angling in rain....don't ask how...he taught me this little pretend game...as it would pour heavily i would go in to the kitchen and steal(that was my job..)and he would fix...to a stick a twine...one end of which had a safety pin borrowed from the lovely neck of an aunt or my mom(she always had half a dozen of them in her chain on her lovely swan like neck)...pin a pea nut or a chana dal ..drop this in to the heavy rain..sitting across a window grill and waiting for it to soak..in rain...and there after about an hour later we used to eat the soaked grain....perhaps we picked it up from the fishermen in the neighbourhood....

Rains to me also meant learning to make a boat....which i can still do..tho i forgot how to make a katti boat (boat with a knife)..my uncle could do it..effortlessly...this was also the time when we siblings learnt to make so many things from plain paper form boats to ink bottles...

Monsoons.....then and now always beckon me..for a thrilling experience....heavy rain slashing....wet clothes...drpping..almost dripping us bare....the umbrella that threatens to take of like a hot air balloon...i still take a walk....in the rain....of course i would love to have the company of m y better half...who is equally fond of rain.....and the MONSOONS

Thursday, July 17, 2008

THE MYSTERY FEVER.......

I woke up one day.....very sick..... limbs very weak......sweating profusely.....my as such frail body....simmering hot...uninterrupted...vomitings...it was the earliest.....time i could recollect when i was sick....perhaps i was six years then...the tongue was parched....my mind gone hazy....in delirium....it was not like the usual...mornings....certainly i was very sick...

An instrument white in color and sleek looking was thrust under my tongue..with strict instructions not to bite it...that was my first introduction to thermometer........after a few minutes my father sighed..."Very high fever...." i was rushed in a tricycle rickshaw..to a doctor...i was mercilessly told to remove my long shorts and an injection pierced on my left buttock...i don't know why...but i dint cry......of course it was quite painful.....the doctor seemed quite happy and complimented me for being a brave boy....

In those days if you fell sick....they never gave you any food...not that i was hungry...the appetite was gone....but the very thought that everyone was eating..merrily ..and you were not part of it...brought some juvenile depression....i was just given ..ginger decoction in the morning....and buttermilk...whole day...and handful of bitter medicines...

The fever would not recede ...after few days my father rushed me to the doctor again...the doc seemed equally puzzled...so apparently it wasn't normal fever.....i heard the doctor tell my dad...lets do a check for Typhoid....few days more...the fever would still not come down..by now i had been reduced..to a skeleton...no solid food...i was barely able to walk..and had to be carried to the doctor....

The smile on the doctors face vanished....i was administered injections...for 25 days...but the strange fever ...wouldn't recede....i lost all..hopes...more than anything else ..i yearned for some good food...my diet was upgraded to orange juice..apart form the buttermilk...one day...i woke up in the morning...and the temperature was gone....the thermometer showed normal temperature...i was too feeble ...so i still had to go the doctor...for some prescription to get me back to shape...i was just a bag of bones then....i heard the doctor tell my dad..."I dint know what the fever was..its a mystery..it certainly wasn't typhoid...."..any way he seemed quite happy that finally it receded...my mystery fever seemed to have dented his confidence...

A few days ...passed....i began to grow strong again.....back to my mischievous self...world at last seemed normal again....

............yet the mystery of ...my fever was not solved.....until one day my father opened a black box.....it was a small....pouch like box....he went wild shaking it...asking my mom...what happened to the contents....seeing him rant so much....she asked him what that box was about...he told her that box had small bottles of homoe pills ...but now they were all empty bottles..not one or two ..but ..they were a dozen bottles...with nice wooden corks...

It did not take long...for them to zero in on me....i was pulled up by my ears...literally by my father who was quite livid....quite innocently...i owned up that i had all those pills....not all at once but each day one bottle....i told him..they were not bitter but quite sweet....

THE MYSTERY OF MY FEVER WAS SOLVED......to this day...each time i take a homoe pill...i am reminded of that mystery fever....

Thursday, July 3, 2008

MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN

appudappude tellavarutondi...kitikee lonchi chuste chaala bagundi scenery......antha adavulu....challani gaali...appude udayinchina kiranalu....erra baduthunna ...aakasam.

ooty ...ekkuva dooram lenatlundi ....pakkane koorchunna prayanikudu..deerghanga nidra...chinna music laga rythmatic snoring....chinnappatininchi ooty choodalani korika....collegelo unnappudu vachhindi oka chance...kani ade time lo ..typhoid....

Rathri enimidintiki ekkadu bassu..benguluru lo...antha benguluru ...thega baguntundi antaru..tanaki antha goppaga emi anipinchala..may be ....thana present mind set ala undemo....city lo okka cinema halls nachhayi thanaki...........

Pakkanne unaa prayanikudu lechadu..(thankfully).....chuste andhra vadilaga leka south vadi laga ledu....hindi lo adigadu...aur kitna door hai...ooty?......Mujhe bhi nahin malom magar jaldi aane vale hai...konchem chiraaku ga annadu thanu...hyderabad lo perigadu kabatti..hindi bane vachhu...aarintiki cherindi bassu..ooty....scenery chala bagundi....no wonder people flock to see ooty ..anni cinema shootingulu ......anukunnadu thanu...

Bus digi atu itu chusadu....rathri sariga thinale..chachhe akali....first hotel....auto vesukuni...DAS PRAKASH HOTEL....room....vedi neellu....pesarattu...athma ramudu santhinchadu...hotel bayata paddadu....tamil radu kabatti ..hindi ye gathi....auto vadini adigadu choodataniki enti ani.......BOTANICAL GARDENS.....

carpet laga...green lawns..antha kante striking.....ada..maga jantalu...almost cinemalo choopinche scenes...photographers... 15 RS ki photo..tega godavapeduthunnadu vachhinappitininchi.....okkadine unna naku..chiraku photo enta ani...oka janta....andamyna ammayi....oka abbayi ...kottaga pelli ayinatludi....ammaye abbayi kante forward ga undi...dhyryanga meeda cheya veyamani antundi...telugu valla laga unnaru....



vachhe july ki 27 years...chala sambhandalu vachhayi poyayi.....oka unsuccessful ....pellichoopulu....nachhaledu...pathi kellu vachhinappatininchi...parents ...venaka..pelli chesukora ani....jathakalu...caste...subcaste...vydeeki...velnatlu....ento asalu...ippati daka asalu.. subsect unnayani kooda teleedu...valla ..ki raaji padi...doriki poyadu....desam lo telugu brahmins pillalu etu poyaro...andamyna ammyalantha...kama vallu leda..niyogi brahmins...ento ...whole situation antha..chiraku ga undi....oka ti decided..edi emyna....brahmachari la undataniki settle avuthanu gani..no compromise..on requirements...basic good looks,.. well educated...konchem social..girl...tithulu laga sambandhalu vastunnayi pothunnayi.....naannaki ...jatha kala ...pichhi...comparative ga amma modern...ekkuva chaduvu koka poyina..

Vallani badha pettakunda oka manchi ammayi dorakada ani...valla ki initiative ichhadu...ippati ki rondellu...ayi poyayi..no pilla in sight...py pechhu meeku nachhi tene chesukunta ani mata kooda ichhi ..doriki poyadu...evarido ball...unlce ball....oka chinna pilla aduguthondi......doooranga oka sardarji....erra ga , najoogga poduga pellamu.....kaki ki donda pandu laga unnaru..lopala ekkado kullu..thana ki....correct ga one year back....radha mavayya vachhadu (madhya varti )....manchi sambhandam ani...pilla photo tho...attractive ga..cotton sari....height...color...anni bane unnayi ...first look lo ne almost decide ayyipoyadu....edo last bus miss avuthe dorakadannatlu....nanna photo chusadu....orey ..jathakam kudarali kada..ani...ventane....birth date ...nakshtram patuuku ra radha..ammma pakka ninchi....mee tatayya ki baga telisina vallu... nayanamma.. vantitloninchi...edo asa...ganta tharavatha ..radha mavayya..pilla ippude chesukodu ta...details kooda ivvala...disappoint avuthu cheppadu...one more gone from the list anukunna...
konchem drizzle.....daggiralo ..hotel....tiffin...ekkada chusina ammayilu....mana ke ...karuvu ....anukunnadu..kachhe ga...kana ..badi na ammayalanu quick ga assessment...kotha alavatu.......
girruna.....oka samvatsaram thirigindi..thana married status still single..edo ..excuse....pilla kudaratle..orey...rahu is watching from 12 th house...to mars...time paduthundi...final judgement la ..naanna ..decree pass chesadu..last month....velladu ...initi ki malla.....malla tagiladu..radha mavayya...malla .. pilla pinni adigindi ani annadu...e pilla ..konchem irritate avuthu annadu thanu....photo...chupinchadu...ade pilla green cotton saree...etc....next day....sunday..lazy ga oka patha T shirt vesu kuni gaddam cheyakunda koorchunnadu thanu...evaro oka lady vachhhindi ok abbayi tho...edo amma tho husk....kasepu koorchuni poyaru..thanu patti pattanatttu ....look vesi velladu...evarey ..amma ni adigadu...pilla pinni ra andi..sare cheppa chugga nenu na avatharam ....pilla jathakam vallu ichharu.....one week ayyindi ..naku thappa evariki ..thondara lenatlundi...
saab bill..hindi lo waiter...katti bayata paddadu...edo mechanical ga thiruguthunnadu..lake...park...hotel lunch...race course....honeymoon chesukunte ikkade.....chaalle...alu ledu chulu ledu koduku peru somalingam..lopalinchi ..oka voice..teasing ga....
Dhyryam chesi adi gadu naanna ni..nanna ... pilla ni chuddama...jathakam match avvali kadara...ventane vellandi....amma pakkaninchi....seetha phal mandi....astrologist....chusadu...serious face....nenu athram ga..edo lottery result kosam wait chestunnatlu....baleda..naanne adigadu...paravale....kaani ...pilla vrischikam..pilladu karkatakam....office ninchi rangane...tension ga untundi.....RETREAT....like a defeated sodier...intiki vachhaka....emyndi ..ani amma....inka manhci vi rakunda pothaya ..naanna...
ika labham ledani cheppadu ...I WANT TO SEE THE GIRL DAD...tone konchem penche cheppadu...ala matla datam first time....YOU DECIDE FOR YOURSELF...YOU TAK E RESPONSIBILTY..kopangane ..naanna...abba ..telugu lo matladithe ..naku ardham avuthundi ga..venakala ninchi amma....
Night bus ekkadu malla.....pakka ne oka kurradu...TB pateint laga daggu...eppudu bus ekkina...cigarettlu thage vado...dagge vado ...cinema hall ayithe paan thine vado..mundara kallu pette vado..mana adristam anthe anukunnadu....challati gaali....niddara etlagu pattatle e mdhya...
Next day pelli chupulu.....pilla photo kante bagundi....ekkuva matladakunda kalla tho pariksha ga..confident ga chusindi thana ni....ide last chance annatlu matladadu..thanu...pilla oka chinna smile end lo...edo confirmatory ..asa...pelli chupulu ayyi...varam....naanna ki phone chesadu....pilla vallu ki cheppava naku pilla nachhindi ani......OREY...PILLA VALLU CHEPPALI kADURA...FIRST..PROTOCOL gurthu chesadu naanna......two days back daddy phone....nee kosam ani phone chesara..pilla thandri ki....adigithe 60% nachhavuta ani cheppadu...konchem hurt ga feel avuthu cheppadu....thanu devastated....pelli chupullo kooda maths vastundi ani thanu eppudu anu kola...gone for ever..anukunna....edo manasulo tensin..change ga untundi ani ooty bus ekkadu bangalore ninchi......ayina no compromise....with basic requirement anukunnadu..
Next day office....one more dull day...enti ra..ala depressed ga unnavu freinds adagatam...vekili ga....
.........................................after noon naanna phone............congrats ra.......ani
enti nanna...varey sambandham memo anukuntu...feeble ga annadu thanu... phon elo...
.............orey........04 dec engagement....pilla ki nuvvu nachhavuta..pilla grandfather intervene ayyi...settle chesadu............

WELL REST IS HISTORY....................THEY SAY MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN..........KADAA..............

Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)