Intazaar...

(This is a true story of a close acquaintance. I have changed the names and professions of the characters and the location where the story took place.) 

“Leader of the opposition is summing up his party's position on the motion. He is the last speaker. After this, the Rajya Sabha members will vote on the motion……a historical motion indeed…..” The TV reporter was talking non-stop.

Poorani had been glued to the 24x7 news channel for the past one hour. Kalai Arasi, her elder daughter noticed the palpable tension in Poorani’s face. She took Poorani’s hand and gave a gentle press to signify psychological support.

The channel took a commercial break.

Poorani closed her eyes and reclined on the sofa. Tears rolled down her eyes.

March, 1980.

“Champagam Dorairajan…a Brahmin girl; married at a young age; brilliant in studies….was denied a seat in Medical College. Why? Because she was born in a Brahmin family. The communal G.O of the then Madras Government….” Poorani was arguing against reservations in the annual inter college debate.

“Exactly….she was born in a caste which had oppressed, which had kept the rest of India in its wraps for centuries…. exactly these considerations weighed with the law makers when they introduced Article 15 (4) to provide for reservation….if judges, who are far removed from masses, whose only claim is intellectual supremacy can indulge in parochial interpretation of the Constitution…..” Samudram, a student of the Madras Law College intervened and argued for reservation.

Though she was ready with Justice H R Khanna’s caution against the dangers of indiscriminate, liberal construction of the Constitution, she held back. She noticed the fire in his eyes. His hands were shaking in anger. He must have suffered humiliation. He must be a Dalit. She felt that the harsh reality in his argument far outweighed the academic perfection in hers.

He won the debate. She congratulated him.

“Did you lose the debate intentionally the other day?”  They had started meeting each other for the past one month.

“Yes and no” replied Poorani.

“What does that mean?”

“I had arguments to counter yours. But I did not put forward the same….”

“That means you lost deliberately….”

“No…even if I had put them forward, I would have lost before the force in your 

arguments.”

“Not at all…you are being too humble…..please tell me the truth …. Why did you lose….”He took her hand as he was talking.

“For this only….” She blushed.

His daughter was in love with a Dalit boy!

Kailasam could not stand that. Kailasam was not an orthodox Brahmin. But he was not that ‘liberal’, that ‘progressive’ as to agree for his daughter’s marriage with a Dalit boy.

Rajam rushed to him with a glass of water. Rajam’s hands trembled. She knew Poorani well. If she made up her mind once, she would not change. Did she not know that her decision would affect Janaki, her younger sister’s marriage prospects as well?

Poorani listened to their arguments patiently; politely answered all of them.

But she would not change her mind.

Samudram and Poorani married in the Registrar’s office. Kailasam and Rajam signed as reluctant witnesses.

They both started working in Adept Chambers, a leading law firm in Chennai.  

Samudram got a job as Government Pleader within a couple of years under the SC/ST quota.

“The chairman of the Rajya has adjourned the House for an hour. Thereafter the voting on the motion will take place….We promise to bring you all the action…..” shouted the TV reporter. Poorani went to the kitchen and prepared coffee for her and Kalai Arasi.

As she sipped, she plunged into the flashback again.

Janaki came and helped Poorani when she delivered the elder daughter. Frustrated with embarrassing questions from the prospective bridegrooms' side, Janaki decided to remain a spinster.

Samudram took the child to the Chief Minister who named her Kalai Arasi. For Kailasam and Rajam, Kalai Arasi was still Alamelu, the Brahmin name they had kept.

When Poorani delivered their second daughter a couple of years later, Samudram told her to quit her job.

“Vaayya Samudram….vaa (Weclome, Samudram),” The Chief Minister threw his hand around Samudram’s shoulder and invited him. Poorani who had accompanied him to the party felt awkward.

The CM had thrown a party to celebrate the acquittal of his brother from a murder case the previous day. Samudram who led the prosecution team had sought his conviction and lost the case!

How could the CM welcome a prosecutor so happily who lost his government’s case!

“I am buying this bungalow,” said a jubilant Samudram while he took Poorani around the two storey building in Gandhi Nagar, Adayar the next day.

‘This bungalow would cost not less than Rs. 2 Crores. Barely 10 years into the job as Government Pleader, how did he manage to buy such a posh building?’ wondered Poorani.

Samudram’s name figured in the list of 5 new judges appointed to Madras High Court in 2002. Governor of the State and Chief Justice of Madras High Court had recommended his name.

Samudarm threw a grand party to celebrate his appointment. He invited the Chief Minister and other leading members of the ruling party which raised many eyebrows in the media.

Samudram purchased 2 acres of land in Perungudi in the name of Kalai Arasi.

The Tamilnadu Government allotted 22 acres of prime land at a throw away price to a trust run by Chief Minister’s son-in-law. A concerned NGO filed a PIL in the Madras High Court challenging the allotment.

A three member bench, of which Samudarm was one, dismissed the petition.

Samudram purchased another 5 acres of land in Sriperumpudur in his 2^nd daughter’s name. A concerned Poorani tried to talk to him.

“Will you please shut up? Did I ask for your advice?” said an obviously irritated Samudram.

Where was the Samudram she had known in 1980s- the principled Samudram, the loving Samudram?

Poorani was ashamed to share her concern with her parents.

When a collegium duly constituted by the Chief Justice of India recommended his name for promotion to Supreme Court in 2008, all the hell broke.

A Civil Society group wrote to the Chief Justice and President alleging corruption on the part of Samudram and seeking his removal. Samudram countered that since he was a Dalit, he was being victimized by the higher caste Civil Society.

Very soon 62 members of the Rajya Sabha brought a motion to impeach him.

Samudram made a spirited argument in the Rajya Sabha in his defence.

“The Chairman has announced voting on the impeachment motion….members are casting their votes…..”

Poorani closed her eyes tightly. Losing the job may not affect them financially. But the ignominy of being booted out of office, that too first time in the history of the country through an impeachment motion…..

“For those viewers who joined us late, voting is in progress…. In another five minutes we will get the results…five more minutes of nail biting wait…..”

Poorani was waiting......

Yeh sab hamesha mere saath kyu hota hi!

KPN (long distance bus service in Tamilnadu) stops at a motel on the highway. I get down and rush to the urinal. After four hours of travel in A/C, the ‘pressure’ on me is unbearable. The first thing I desperately want to do is to ease myself. I find that not only all the urinals are being used but there is a queue of one or two persons for each. I carefully choose one where a young man is peeing and there is no queue. I wait. The urinal next to me becomes free and the guy on the queue moves in. The one in the corner become free-the guy waiting moves in. Another one…another one…even the second in the queue gets a chance. The guy in the urinal in front of me is still in no mood to finish!

I go to a restaurant with my wife. The place is crowded. The manager notes down my name and says he will inform me as soon as a table is free. After a couple of minutes a family of six arrives. The manager allots them a table. He understands the belligerence in my look. “It’s a table for 6, sir…you are just two…” Next week when I go to the restaurant with my family, table for two becomes free!

We move to a new house.  Our neighbor recommends a maid for us. The maid had been working in her house for years; very reliable; after finishing the work in her house, the maid can attend to us. Just two days into the job, she comes to me and requests for an advance of Rs. 3,000 ignoring my neighbor for whom she had been working for years!

I open the IRCTC site for booking a train ticket. I choose the train and date. I enter my card number. The site processes and validates. Then the system hangs. After two minutes when the site becomes operational, I go and check the booking history. My ticket is not booked. I get an SMS in my mobile. ‘Your account has been debited with Rs. 2,315. Thanks for using …………..card.”!!!!

On the rare few occasions when I manage to book my ticket through IRCTC and further rarer occasions when I manage to get a lower berth, I invariably face an old man or woman who invariably ignores the youngster in the opposite side and chooses me for requesting “Sir…would you mind exchanging your lower berth with my upper berth?”!!!

I jump a traffic signal. Many others also do. But only I get caught!

I offer the constable Rs.50. “Are you trying to bribe me? It is bigger offence,” threatens the honest constable. I end up paying Rs. 500!

I order vegetarian food in Qatar Airways at the time of booking the ticket. Still when I travel, invariably vegetarian food is in short supply and invariably ends one row before me!

My boss, who is the MD of the Group suspects something wrong in the finances of a group company. He asks me to look into it. I spend days and weeks and dig out information which points an accusing finger on the CEO of the company. My boss calls the CEO for a meeting where he asks me to present the evidence against him. I make a spirited presentation. Three months later, when my boss invites me for a party in his house, I find the CEO sharing a joke with my boss! When we take food from the table, I could sense the animosity in his eyes for me!

I write a post on what happened to me or around me- a simple, matter of fact post. I get overwhelming response. That motivates me. I decide to do a qualitatively better post. I do research. Then I write, edit and re-write what appears to me a satisfying post. Readers cold shoulder the same!

I wonder. ‘Yeh sab hamesha mere saath kyu hota hi?’

Aap ka kya kayaal hi?

Seshu....

"Hariharan...have you ever fallen in love with anyone during your student days?" That was Seshu with on of his usual, ever embarrassing questions.


I was shifting uncomfortably in the sofa. 


We are a conservative family. Twenty five years into marriage, I have never told my wife that I loved her. Even when she reads some of my posts which contain some romantic moments/instances, I do not sit near her; I used to feel uneasy.


The above being so, you can imagine my plight when Seshu questioned me about my love life during student days. 


Seshu (name changed) was one of our neighbors- he was staying in a flat upstairs and we were in the ground floor. Seshu was 65 years+. He was a banker in Dubai. After retirement, he returned to Chennai in 1995 and settled down in his R A Puram flat. His elder daughter was married to a Corporate Executive in Dubai. Seshu lived with his wife Rama and son Murali in Chennai. Murali, who was a commerce student was interested in motor car racing. All I learnt about motor car racing during my six months association with Seshu's family was that it was a very, very costly sport. 


Krishna, my elder son who was sitting next to me got up and walked to his room. Parvathy, my wife came to my rescue. "Mama...shall I get you some onion Pakoda?" She went to the kitchen and brought a plate of Pakodas.


Munching one of the  Pakodas, Seshu asked "Ha...I was asking you whether you fell in love with anyone when you were young....Or did any girl fall in lover with you?"


Seshu, being Seshu, Pakoda was too small an incentive for diverting his attention, we realized.


"Do you know Hariharan....Kamalini in the 2nd floor....the journalist... drinks beer. I counted six cans in the dustbin..." said he another day.


"Joseph in the F Block was caught red handed with the servant maid...his wife caught him...there was so much....."


Seshu became a regular visitor to our flat at 6.30 in the evening. We were in the ground floor. Residents of flats in the upstairs who walked past our flat for catching the lift could easily hear the conversation. We were worried as to what they would think about us. 


I came out with a devious plan to squelch the gossip session of Seshu. Parvathy and I started watching Saath Nibhana Saathia, a TV serial when he would be pouring his gossips. Occasionally we would turn towards him so that he does not feel that we were ignoring him.


6.30 pm next day.


There was no sign of Seshu. I smiled triumphantly at Parvathy- my plan has worked. We watched the serial at 7 o' clock and were getting ready for dinner at 7.45.


Calling bell rang.


Seshu was at the door step. "Since you were watching a TV serial....I thought I should not disturb you...Now that you are free....we can talk freely....!"


!!!!!!! I avoided Parvathy's mischievous smile.


"One day Murali will win a Formula 1 race....a rich, beautiful girl...perhaps daughter of an industrialist would fall in love with him...." That was Seshu's pet fantasy. 


While there was perhaps nothing wrong in fantasizing, I felt awkward when he shared the same with me.


"Let's go out at 7.30." That was Parvathy's plan for avoiding Seshu.


The next day Seshu caught us in the corridor. "I saw you going out for a walk yesterday night. I thought it would be a good idea to join you. We can talk while walking...." 


!!!!!!! It was Parvthy's turn to avoid my smile.


We tried various tricks-switching off the lights in the hall, pretending to sleep, etc. Seshu effortlessly thwarted each of our plans. We accepted our defeat and patiently listened to the Manjula-Hussein love story, Ramalingam's fraud in his bank.....

After a few days I returned to Dar Es Salaam and forgot about Seshu in my busy schedule. My wife did not talk about him when we skyped nor did she write anything about him in her mails.


I visited Chennai again after 5 weeks.


Around 6.30 in the evening it struck me that it was time for Seshu's visit.  Though I was watching TV, my attention was on the entrance- when would he come?


6.45....7.00....perhaps he wants us finish viewing Saath Nibhana Saathiya....


7.30....7.45....8.00....


Parvathy noticed my frequent glances towards the entrance. "Are you expecting someone?"


"Ha.....Seshu...."


The expression on her face changed. "He will not come."


"What happened?"


"He has been admitted to the hospital...."


"............................"


"He is mentally not stable......"


Seshu gave me a blank stare. Obviously he did not recognize me. We were in the hospital to see him.


"When we came to India, we had more than Rs. 1 cr as savings. Over the years the savings have dwindled....Meanwhile one of our FDs matured. Rajesh (who took care of the administration of the building) told us to invest the same in a plot in Kelambakkam. We invested ......... lacs. But the property is still not registered in our name. Perhaps we have been cheated.......


"Also Murali wants us to send him to London. He wants to be trained in car racing....when Seshu refused, Marali demanded his share of the property.....


"Seshu has been having one problem after another over the past couple of years....First our daughter married a guy who was not from our caste. Then Seshu's brother and his wife started treating us badly....


"Seshu vents his feelings out by gossiping with others.....gossiping helped him forget his worries....helped him divert his attention....but people gradually started avoiding him...he was left to himself....he could not bear the loneliness...." Rama wept.


Parvathy and I returned home with a heavy heart.


The chair next to the keyboard where Seshu used to sit stared at us.


I could not control my tears. 


"Seshu....please come...let us talk about my love life...about Kamalini...about Manjula who eloped with the newspaper vendor....but....come...please....."

Katha Upanishad-What happens when one dies....

I lost my father a few days back.

That he was a great soul, a good teacher, more a friend than a father and that the loss is irreparable, etc though true and important, are extremely personal matters and not the theme of this post.

Then what is the theme?

A story from Katha Upanishad runs as follows. King Vahasrava performs a yagna in which he offers worthless gifts to Brahmans. Nachiketas, his son notices this and pesters his father to offer fruitful gifts. Vahasrava, in a fit of anger gifts Nachiketas to Yama. Nachiketas meets Yama and asks the most important question-what happens after death? Yama reveals the secret which is one of the best explanations offered by any religion on the post-death happening.

Thus Nachiketas learns the distinction between soul and body, the immortality of soul, the concept of moksha, etc.  from Yama.

And what did I learn after my father’s death?

• We informed the relatives about his death. A standard question from them was “Is it going to be electric cremation or conventional cremation?” How is it relevant? In an electric cremation Asthi (ashes) is given within 2 hours whereas in conventional cremation it is given the next day. Sanjayanam is a ritual performed after obtaining the ashes. Hence in the case of electric cremation Sanjayanam can be performed on the same day and the relative can book return ticket the same night! Otherwise he/ she has to stay overnight!

• We took the body to the cremation centre.

“Sir, you have one hour. The next body is arriving at 3.30. You need to finish all your rituals before that,” explained the attendant at the cremation centre.

“What time will you give the Asthi? By 5.30? I have to catch the 7.30 train back to Chennai,” requested an impatient uncle of mine.

• By the time we got the Asthi and finished Sanjayanam, it was 6 in the evening. The Asthi was to be immersed in a river. My father died in Salem. We would have to go to either Mettur or Bhavani for immersion both of which were 50 kms away. The Pundit said that we could not keep the Asthi in the house overnight nor could it be kept in a neighbor’s house.

‘What if we keep in the boot of the car overnight and immerse tomorrow?’ suggested a very resourceful relative.

The Pundit perhaps had not faced this kind of a question earlier in his career. He tentatively agreed to the suggestion.

So the Asthi waited patiently in the boot of the car overnight!

• We mentioned my father’s death in the obituary column of The Hindu. Every now and then some distant relative or an old friend would call to express his condolence and a typical conversation would go as follows:

“I learnt about Narayanan’s (my father) death…I’m sorry…?”

“……………..”

“Are you his elder son? What’re you doing?”

“…………………”

What’s your brother doing?”

“……………..”

 “How many children you have?”

“……………..”

“What are they doing?”

“………………….”

“Are you looking for alliance for the elder daughter?”

“………………….”

“I have a suitable boy in mind……”

And that was a condolence inquiry!

• For a good part of his last few years, my father stayed alone in Valady, my native village. A neighbor and a servant maid looked after him reasonably well. While he paid them monthly for their services, he had told us to pay them a reasonable lump sum after his death.

What constituted a reasonable lump sum?

“Rs. 25,000 each,” suggested my uncle.

“Rs. 50,000 each,” was another suggestion.

“Do they deserve that much when especially for the last few months Narayanan was with his son and not with them?” questioned the uncle who had suggested Rs. 25,000 as the compensation.

Discussions. Points and counter points. Fact sheets. Their performance analysis of the past few years.

Finally it was decided to pay them Rs. 50,000 each.

• As South Indian Brahmins we have to perform the last rites for 13 days. Every day the Pundit would come at 6.30 in the morning and the rituals would last for an hour. Thereafter we would be free till next morning. The  free time thus obtained would be spent on ‘atma vichar’- one day it would be Sankaran Kovil by-election, next day it would be UP election results, third day would be Rajini vs. Kamal vs. Vijayakant…..

• My father’s pension account was in Valady. “It would be better to close the account when Hariharan is in India. So let’s do it during these 13 days. Otherwise Hariharan will leave the country and if the bank wants his signature on some paper, we will be stuck.” It was done.

• “You need legal heir certificate to dispose of the family house,” said a lawyer relative. We contacted an official of Salem Municipal Corporation. “Sure, no problem. It will involve some ‘expenditure’.” We agreed to the ‘expenditure’. Then the official wanted my mother’s death certificate as she was also a legal heir. My mother died 25 years ago and we did not bother to get her death certificate then. “No problem. It will involve some more ‘expenditure’” volunteered the obliging Corporation official.

• Everyone gave a farewell speech on the 13^th day.

“Narayanan was a very, very independent person. He would not take help from anyone. I have to thank God that he gave me an opportunity to help him once,” said a relative.

“I was blessed with an opportunity to look after him once….,” said another relative.

What was the point? Were the phrases “thank God”, “blessed with an opportunity” polite garbs for the fact they in fact helped him?

• “One has to be practical. How many days will one be brooding over his death? Will you stop eating, sleeping? What’s wrong in settling the financial issues? What’s wrong in laughing, gossiping, arguing…..? In fact Narayanan was a great philosopher. He did not believe in these rituals or the outward show of grief,” argued a close relative.

Perhaps he is right. One needs to be practical.

I am back on my job preparing cash flows and forecasts.

My Bosses

“Cheers!”

Standing in the balcony of Harpreet’s house, we watched the Jet Airways aircraft rising in the sky and celebrated the same with the clinking of our glasses.

We? My colleagues Harpreet, Atul, Arvind and I. We were senior employees- General Managers and Vice Presidents! We were working in a pharmaceutical company in Ahmedabad.

Celebration? Yes. My boss, the MD of the company was leaving for US for 15 days. We were celebrating the same. Since he was going to be away for 15 days, we had organized the party on a grand scale and it continued till 1 o’clock in the night. 

Celebrations for shorter periods of absence were done on a more humble scale. For example when he went out for a meeting for a couple of hours, we used to celebrate in the lassi ka dukkan off CG Road. His day trip to Mumbai warranted a lunch at Restaurant Mirch Masala.

Was boss’s absence such a big deal?

Yes, it was. Consider the following.

“Hariharan, we need to go to Ankleshwar factory tomorrow. I’ll send the car to your house at 2.”

“Sure sir. I will go home for lunch at 1 and will wait for your car there.”

“I meant 2 in the morning (!!!). We will reach Ankleshwar at 6, when the first shift starts.”

When the car came to pick me up at the auspicious time of 2 in the morning, I saw Ramparasad and Nagarajan in the back seat. I was heading the Bulk Drug business of the Company. Ramprasad was in charge of production at Ankleshwar plant and Nagarajan was the Research Head. We smiled at our fate and went to boss’s house to pick him up.

Once in the car, my boss started discussing the plan for scaling up a new molecule. I had to take minutes of the meeting- in the car at 2.30 in the night!

“Choksi, why are the margins of oncology products so low compared to the budget?” That was my boss questioning the Head of Finance during a monthly performance review meeting. The meeting was at the Dholka Factory which was 25 kms away from Ahmedabad.

“I have a product-wise analysis. Unfortunately the file is in Corporate Office, Ahmedabad.”

“Then go and get it.” It was 9 o’ clock in the night. We were all hoping that the meeting would end in the next half an hour and we would be leaving for home. We had been reviewing the performance of the previous month since 8 in the morning.

At 9 in the night, my boss was telling Choksi to go all the way to Ahmedabad to bring a file!

Did the absence of such boss for 15 days not call for celebration?

He was not an odd boss out. Consider my earlier boss.

“What is this Hariharan? How could you do this?” My boss at the multinational pharmaceutical company in Bombay (It was called so those days) was looking at me in utter disbelief.

I had joined the company just a month earlier. It was the first week of July. You must be knowing how it rains in June-July in Bombay.

What was my crime?

I was wearing a brown shirt, blue pant, red tie and a chappal! ( I just needed a white rimmed sun glass to be a Govinda in a David Dhawan movie!) 

“It has been raining for a week now….all my clothes are wet….only these were dry….wearing leather shoe in a rainy day…..” I was not able to talk coherently.

“You go back home, change and come,” was the curt reply of my boss.

Going back? I lived in Dombivili and my office was in Ballard Estate. For those who do not know Mumbai, it is a distance of 60 kms.

“If I go back, I may not be able to return before evening sir.”

“Then don’t come back.”

We were standing in the Administration hall where 15-20 of my colleagues were staring at us, listening to our conversation.

Till then I had never felt so low in life.

One more of my bosses.

“Sir, I am getting married on Jul 3. Sunday. Please do come.” I extended the invitation to my boss who was the General Manager of Madras Region of a private sector bank.

My boss had a quick glance at the invitation and said,” Fine. Fine. But remember. You are resuming duty on Tuesday. We have a Board Meeting on Wednesday and we have 9 credit proposals.”

That was the response when I extended my marriage invitation.

None of my colleagues attended my marriage. Reason? They were called to office on Sunday to prepare for the Board Meeting.

Of course I have a boss now who is quite considerate. When I was working in Ahmedabad, I was desperately looking for another job. (What else would I do with a boss like him?) I applied to a Tanaznian Company. The MD and HR Director flew down to Bombay to interview the candidates. I was also called for the interview.

The day prior to the interview, my boss told me he would like to discuss the 3 year plan of Bulk Drug business with me the next day.

‘My God! How do I go to Bombay for the interview?’ I did not want to miss the interview. I called the MD of the Tanzanian Company who would be conducting my interview and informed him of my problem. He was cool. He told me to discuss the 3 year plan with my boss and catch the evening flight to Bombay. He would meet me at 8 in the night at Little Italy Restaurant, Juhu Tara Road, Bombay.

I attended the 3 year plan review. As usual the meeting continued well beyond office hours. When I came out of the meeting it was 8.30 in the night. I missed my flight. I called the interviewer and apologized. He said he was leaving India the next morning and would meet me anytime if only I could somehow make it.

My colleague told me that there was an Air India flight which came from Muscat to Ahmedabad at 9.30 in the night and left for Bombay at 10.30. I could go to the Airport and buy the ticket.

I landed at Bombay airport at 11.30 in the night. The HR Director of the Tanzanian Company had come to the Airport to receive me. He drove me to Little Italy Restaurant.

The MD interviewed me at 1 in the night! He was satisfied with me. He and the HR Director took me to their hotel. The HR Director printed my appointment letter in the Business Centre of the Hotel and the MD signed it at 3.30 in the morning!

They took a cab to International Airport and I took one to Domestic Airport.

It is 11 years now since I joined the Company- longest stint in my career. Through that one incident, one gesture my current boss has bought my loyalty forever.

PS: The tougher bosses were of course good paymasters- good pay rise ever year, furnished accommodation, luxury car, etc., though my friends called the same ‘Insult Allowance’.

Yeh mera bas ki baat nahi hi!

A few years back we went to Satyam theatre. It was a Saturday evening. We wanted to see Ramana, a Tamil movie. We could not get the tickets. Also tickets for almost all the other shows had been sold out. Only ‘Die another day’ was available.

English movie. I hesitated. I do not understand the accent of the English actors nor do my family.

“It’s a James Bond movie….full of action….no problem, if you don’t understand their English….” The guy at the counter was selling multi-million dollar James Bond movie to me!

Having come all the way to the theatre, we did not want to go back home. We bought the tickets.

Half an hour into the movie, Eshwar my younger son asked the most embarrassing question. “Appa…who is the goodie? And who is the baddie in the movie?”

That was the question I was struggling to find answer for. There was an English guy. There were a couple of Koren guys. I decided that since it was an English movie, the white must be the hero, the goodie. But then he was captured and tortured. ‘No, he cannot be the goodie.’

How about their looks? Conventional wisdom was that goodie generally looked smart and baddie looked horrible. But everyone looked smart in the movie.

Tamil movies in the olden days made this task easier. The baddie (Manohar, Nambiar, etc) will be wearing a lungi, will sport a thick moustache, a black mole on the cheek, unkempt curly hair. In the later day movies, though the baddies started looking smarter, there were some actors earmarked for villain roles- Satyaraj, Prakash Raj. Still later when villains like Satyaraj graduated to goodie roles and proved a baddie in the box office, it became difficult to identify goodies and baddies in Tamil movies unless one knew the language.

Sameer Kakkar, my Punjabi friend gave me an easy solution when I started watching Hindi movies. “The oldest guy will be the goodie, the hero…..say Sharukh Khan, Aamir Khan…”

Good formula. When I applied the formula to Tamil movies, it worked very well. “Kamal Hassan…Rajinikanth….Vijaykanth….”

I did not have any such formula for English movies. So I smartly avoided the problem and said to my son “Shshsh….you should not talk in the movie hall….will disturb others….”

After a few minutes, when everyone in the theatre laughed for a scene, Krishna, my elder son asked why they were laughing. Someone must have said something humorous! I changed seats with my wife to avoid questions from Krishna!

My sons regarded me as an ‘all knower’. I did not want to lose the image.

I started watching English movies with English subtitles- in HBO, Sony Pix, Star Movies. I motivated myself that if I watched more and more movies with subtitles, I would, over a period of time, start understanding English movies without subtitles.

But the subtitles moved very fast. Many times while reading the subtitle, I would miss the action on the screen. My wife would bring coffee. But I could not take, for I would lose the subtitle while sipping the coffee. After watching a movie, I would feel tired as if I had given a tough mathematics exam.

I would have seen 20-30 films like this, but I was nowhere close to understanding a movie without the help of subtitles.

Then I decided to watch English movies and later corroborate the same by watching the Tamil version of the movie. But when I heard Tom Cruise and Arnold Schwarzenegger saying “Enna machi….”, “Dei….mokkai podathe..”, I decided to drop the idea.

By this time my sons had understood that I was no longer the ‘all knower’. They sympathized with me. Krishna suggested that many of the English movies are made from English novels. So if read the novel first, it would be easier for me to understand the movie later. He suggested ‘The Da vinci Code’ for me. It took me one month to read and understand the book. When I watched the movie, I understood the same. But it was like preparing for CA final examination- one month preparation for one movie! I could not afford that.

Watching English movies…..lag ta hi, yeh mera bas ki baatnahi hai!

PS: Recently I read a post by Deepak Karthik on the pursuitof Happyness. He quotes dialogues from the movie! Boss, tell me the secret!

???....

I have posted 25 articles! A humble mile stone for an untrained writer! I thought I will pause a little and deliberate a few issues.

What motivated me to write my first post? Is that valid still? What kept me going? How did I choose the subject for each of these articles? Did I really choose the subject or I felt compelled to write?

When I got what I thought were the answers, I felt uneasy; am I not being immodest? Just 25 posts and I have started assuming a lot; Choti moo, badi baath?

I recalled the blogs I have been following. Many of them have posted their hundreds….Many have been blogging for years- be it Saru's romantic poems, or Seema's paintings,or  Subrashis's soul searching articles, or the multidimensional Sahana or Sunil's observations or the astonishing photographs of Joshie Daniel, Magiceye, Chintan or Arti's accounts of visits to religious places or Arvind's thought connect or Dr. Vikram's world views or Bharatiraja's archive of an unknown or the pencil drawings of Shanoj or Sowmya's potluck of thoughts or Satish's humorous posts or Krishnapriya's lovely short stories and poems or Sujatha's enchanting personal accounts or Rohit's sareenity or Swetha's Howzzat or Sunita's 'I See, I feel, I say!!!' or Neeraj Kumar's probinglife or Ashwini's 'Just The Way I Like' or Vijay Menon's 'Here I am'  or India's no 1 blog or Nona's beautiful accounts of life in Paris or Zephyr's posts on social issues or Meera's 'Chronicles of an Unknown' or Indranil's Copycats or the mouthwatering recipes of My Kitchen Flavors or Deduides travel accounts or Anne John's abstarct admissions or Agnija's Monsoon Rains or...or...or...

If I feel exalted with my 25 posts and 2 months of writing, how do I describe what will they be feeling? With so many popular posts to their credit, I wonder whether they would have had the time to think about all these things. Are they not more competent to give their views? I sincerely believe they are. Would their views not be very relevant to the rest of the bloggers? Again I believe they will be.

Here are my questions.

How do you choose what to blog on?

Do you always have a compelling story- be it a political story, personal one or a romantic poem or a photograph or a picture or a recipe or a historical monument or religious site you visited- to share with others? If you always have a compelling story, what is the role of research? Without research, how do we get new ideas, new recipes, new scenes to be photographed? How do we form opinion on new developments?

Or do you choose a subject and then research on the same? In such a case, will you be able to emotionally connect with the same? Does it not sound too logical and less creative? Is it not a case of form over substance?

Is it the irresistible inner urge that makes you blog? Or do you want to get noticed?

Do you see what is trending and jump into it? Pragmatic, I would say. Or do you intensely feel about something and genuinely believe that it will ‘trend’? Pragmatism or idealism- what drives you?

Are you conscious of the language? Do you write and re-write? Do you change one word or phrase for another because you feel the former is more powerful? Or do you just focus on the content?

Do you read or review your post again and again and again before publishing?

Are you concerned whether the readers may not connect with you? Do you tone down your views lest the readers may take offence? Do you ever hold back your honest views lest you may be classified as right wing or left wing, secular or fundamental or some other slot?

Do you feel a sense of achievement after every post- an article on the success of an anti corruption movement or a photograph of rising sun or a recipe for new halwa? Or do you feel you could have done better?

Do you feel frustrated at being unable to do anything beyond creating a post say after a terrorist attack…say after clicking a pathetic beggar…say after visiting a neglected temple? Or do you feel you have done your job as a blogger?

How do you take an adverse comment on your post? Is it better than a favorable comment? Or is it just better than ‘no comment’?

Is your answer a straight ‘haa’ ya ‘naa” for these questions? Or is it somewhere in between?

Are you a Brahmin? Or...at least a vegetarian?

I was looking for taking a flat on rent in Mylapore, Mandaveli, R.A. Puram or Adayar in Chennai about two months back. I went through the classifieds columns of neighborhood newspapers.

I shortlisted 5-6 ads and started calling the landlords. The queries of all the landlords were typical. Just listen to a conversation with the first landlord.

 “Sir, I saw your ad in …….Can you tell me something about your flat?

“Two bedroom, hall, kitchen flat…about 1100 sq ft. Covered car park….Modular kitchen, complete wood work in both the bedrooms….”

“That’s good. What is the rent?”

“What is your budget?”

After a couple of hide and seek questions, he mentioned the rent and advance. Then…

“How big is your family?”

Perhaps he does not like too big a family. “We are four.”

“Your parents are with you?”

“No. My wife and two sons…”

He sounded satisfied. Perhaps he does not want old people. “How old are your sons?”

May be, he is not happy with infants or too small children.”Elder son is 21 years and is planning to write CAT. Younger one is 15 years old.”

“Is your wife working?”

‘How does it matter?’ I thought.

He explained. “Working women generally do not maintain their house properly. I don’t want my flat to be spoilt.”

Strange logic! Anyway my wife is a housewife and I pass this test.

“Are you a Brahmin?”

What? I did not understand the relevance of the question.

He repeated “Are you a Brahmin?”

“Yes.” But how does it matter?

I called the next landlord. Same sequence of questions till whether I am a Brahmin.

For a change I said “No. Are you a Brahmin?”

“No. But at least are you a vegetarian?”

Again for a change, I said “No”

He disconnected.

My next call was answered by a broker, a guy called Stephen.

When he asked whether I was a Brahmin or at least a vegetarian, I retorted “How does it matter?”

“No one wants nonsense or nuisance.”

“What nonsense? What nuisance?”

“You know, sir.” He did not want to elaborate.

The fourth landlord was forthright.”When I want the tenant to vacate, a Brahmin accepts without a word. It’s a scared race. I raise the rent after a year. He meekly accepts. He keeps the house neat and clean.”

Why a vegetarian?

“Brahmins are generally vegetarians. Even otherwise vegetarians are better. Non vegetarians spoil the kitchen. They eat everywhere except the dining table. Dinner plates remain in the bedroom unwashed throughout night. Stench.”

“How do you know?”

“It happens in my house. I don’t want the same in my flat.”

My cousin who lives in KK Nagar said he also faced similar questions when he was looking for a flat.

At this point I wrote my conclusion. I showed it to my friend. After reading the article, he drew a conclusion exactly opposite to mine! And it was equally logical! A second friend brought out a point which both of us had missed out.

I deleted my conclusion. I decided to leave it to the readers.

There is more than one lesson. It depends on the way one looks at it.

How do you look at this?

PS: As I was posting this, I got a call from Arumugam, the caretaker of my flat in Coimbatore. I had requested him to look for a tenant. “Sir, shall I look for Brahmins? Or at least vegetarians?”