Skirmishes

It was a peaceful Sunday afternoon, and I was lolling around watching TV after a rather heavy meal of home-made biriyani followed by chocolate-chip ice cream. 

Appu and his friends were peacefully playing videogames on the sofa, where I could keep a watchful eye on them, and all was right with my world.

And then it happened. An unholy yowling, followed by lots of yelling and thuds. 

The kids all ran out and I followed at a more sedate pace.   I was taken aback at the sight that greeted me.

There was one pre-pubescent kid in his ganji and ripped jeans, (flexing his budding Salman Khan muscles) with a big stick held aloft, ready to strike and another with a stone in his hand.

Were they planning to stone our home?

And then a pitiful whimpering brought me out of my shock.  It looked like a dog was hiding under the stone slabs in front of my home and these kids were out to attack it.

I asked the kids who were playing in our home if they knew what this was about and then I heard the whole story.

 Apparently some time ago, the dog had chased a cock that belonged to these boys.  The cock in question was one with a long, angry-looking scar running from its neck and extending across most of its breast.  It reminded me of cocks ripped up during cockfights.  The dog had apparently chased the cock and these boys had decided that it needed to be killed for following its instincts.

I tried pleading with the boys to no avail.  The anger and the belligerence that they displayed were shocking.  Has violence become so commonplace that there is no reasoning with people?

That was when I decided enough was enough, and I told the kids I was going to call the cops.  I took my phone outside and spoke loudly on it, (in fact I was calling my dad!) and after a point these kids left.  The situation was diffused for the time being but now I live in fear.  Are my windows going to be broken when no one is at home?  Are my car tyres going to be slashed?  Is Appu going to be bullied when he goes out to play with the neighboring kids?

All right, I had kept the dog safe for the time being, but how do I make sure it stays safe? And what about the cock?  What do I do to ensure that it isn’t continuously subject to cruelty during the fights?

I am not even sure I want answers to some questions. 

THE PILL

This week, wherever I look, I see only red and white.  Maybe I should I also include pink?  We have been bombarded with it on TV, radio and even the old fuddy-duddy, the newspaper hasn’t been spared from the onslaught.

And right in the middle of the Valentine’s day blitzkrieg, I saw it.  An article buried deep in the newspaper; about a pill that could cure us of love!  Interest piqued, I continued to read.

 

As the cynics would have us believe, love is nothing but a bunch of hormones running amok and wrecking untold havoc.  And said pill was all set to reverse love’s calamitous effects.  It was said to be so effective that Ultra –Orthodox Jews were using it to keep their young yeshivas in line during their pious studies.

 

I think this would find a great market here too.  Imagine the magic pill falling into the hands of the anti-Valentine’s day brigade or the parents of love-lorn kids whose pristine lineage would otherwise be blemished with all this love-shove.

    

 But I shudder to think what it would do to the biggest dream factory of all time; Bollywood.    Imagine a Bollywood movie without its traditional romance and singing and dancing around trees(or its more modern avatars).  What would our movies be based on in the first place?

I wonder if the pill is efficacious on animals and birds too?  Would this also mean a resolution to the bane of all developing countries-their burgeoning populations?

I am beginning to imagine a completely black and white world, one where all mothers would be indifferent to their offspring, family ties would be monetary more than anything else, and no one had any attachment to anything at all!   Does this mean we will soon have a pill to treat hate too? Or in the meantime,hate continues to grow in leaps and bounds?

The silver lining?  We have now succeeded in creating a pill that grants instant Nirvana!  

The Orthopedic Coconut Tree

A visit to an open air school for the children of the Soliga tribals in the forest around Mysore.  A wonderfully simple  but delicious South-Indian meal.  Time to wash our hands, we step out; and there it was!

A curiously twisted coconut tree, with what seemed like a huge bite taken out of its side and filled in with cement!  My hosts noticed me looking at it in wonder and said, “There’s an interesting tale around that tree.  Would you like to hear it?”

A few others had joined us by then, who doesn’t like a good story?  The story ran thus.  The building we were in and the surrounding hospital were managed by a group of idealistic doctors who had passed out of the Mysore University some time ago.  They mobilized funds, got the required clearances from the government ,cleared the land and started the construction of the hospital and school buildings. 

They had also decided to plant a few fruit bearing trees including a few coconut palms in the vast tracts of land surrounding the buildings.  What they did not realize was that they were bang smack in the middle of the elephants' yearly migratory route!

A month after they had planted the coconut samplings; it happened.  A lone elephant, mad at the world in general, went on a rampage, breaking up the fences and pulling up the plants and generally creating mayhem.

This tree had also suffered at the hands of the rampaging mammoth, but though mangled and bruised,  it stubbornly clung on to its lifeline, the earth.

One of the doctors, an orthopedist, whose compassion encompassed all, decided to get it back on its roots.   For the lack of anything better, he mixed up some Plaster of Paris, filled in the deep gouges and also created a support so the tree would not keel over.   And the tree survived!  Misshapen and twisted, it still stands to this day; its gouge partially filled with cement now, but proudly bearing bunches of coconuts!     

Dussehra Camp at Karapanahalli

It all started with an invite from Akshara “3-day Dussehra Camp for children in various villages in Hoskote”. That piqued my interest; especially as it came from one of Target’s partner NGOs. I reached Hoskote bright and early on Oct 19th, and called Srinivas-the coordinator for Hoskote taluk. He had very kindly volunteered to escort me to one of the villages where the camp was to be held. He handed over some chart paper and other camp paraphernalia in a large bag along with a big bunch of roses. I was mystified!! The mystery was soon to be revealed. Travelling along some sylvan green fields, I soon discovered that roses were abundantly grown in Hoskote!! We reached the government school and were warmly welcomed by both the children and the other volunteers. Excitement pulsed in the air as the children, along with their parents, impatiently waited for what was in store for them. We soon had the village dignitaries kick off the program with a traditional lighting of the lamp and a soulfully rendered invocation by the school kids. There were inspiring speeches by the village dignitaries, Akshara representatives as well as the school Head Mistress. The children were divided into groups and given names of famous Indian personalities like Swami Vivekananda, Mahatma Gandhi, Nehru etc. The day’s events included a game to list the maximum number of trees followed by creation of the village map by the different teams. The village nurse was also invited to give a talk on good nutrition and hygienic practices and the children listened with rapt attention. This was then followed by a highly competitive LEGO session where each team tried to outdo the other in terms of creativity as well as in the height of their creations. There were a lot of oohs and aahs along with groans of dismay when the creations crashed; but they were soon rebuilt to their towering proportions by the enthusiastic children. The day’s events were brought to an end with an energizing game of musical chairs. Day two was kicked off by a drawing competition for the tiny tots whose creations soon began to adorn the school walls! This was followed by a closely fought quiz completion which also included brain teasers and mental math. The children sailed through this session and tie breakers were needed to be able to judge the best team! After the grey cells had been exercised enough, it was time to settle down for some testing on language and math skills. The ASER test was administered to the school children by the volunteers who had previously been trained by Akshara. Post lunch, excitement again ran high. The children had caught sight of the many saplings that had been transported to their school all the way from Anekal. They were to be planted around the school that very evening! The school children were to be entrusted with the task of safeguarding the trees until they had had the chance to grow and flourish. The evening session, was dedicated to Shram Dan, where the volunteers went around the village talking to its occupants about the importance of keeping their surroundings clean. The volunteers were cleaning up the area as they talked, hence reinforcing the message. All in all it was a wonderful experience of village life and a wonderful opportunity to interact with its most interesting occupants-its bright children!!

Kodachadri Conquered

Kodachadri-the name seems to have more meanings than the number of ways it is spelled. But I loved the description that a local jeep driver gave us. Per him, the name has its origins in mythology; ie the Ramayana. The story goes that when Lakshman was hurt and needed the Sanjeevini herb to revive him, Hanuman was sent to find it. Hanuman was unable to find the correct herb amongst all the vegetation and hence picked up the whole mountain and flew back with it. Once Lakshman’s need was fulfilled, Hanuman was asked to return the mountain to its original site. Hanuman, who flew back reluctantly, carelessly dropped pieces along the way and these are the hills that now dot Kodachadri.


The bus ride to Kollur, where the famous Mookambika temple is situated was an adventure by itself. The “sleeper beds” are truly for the brave hearts with the wild tossing throughout the night. And to make things a little more interesting, every pothole every bend in the road is multiplied by the time it reaches the unfortunately sleeper. Of course you can take solace from the fact that at least your joints do get loosened for the trek up the hills.

After freshening up at a nearby lodge, we got into one of the local buses that dropped us off at Karakatta gate where we began the trek. Little did we know that we were to see this bus and its conductor multiple times in the course of the next two days.

The woods are lovely dark and deep…this line from the famous poem of Robert Frost is what kept echoing through my head during the entire trek. Lovely it was, and silent to boot. The silence was only broken by birdsong so sweet we first thought it was someone’s ringtone. Of course, how could I forget the raucous laughter of some of the other trekkers along the path!!

Walking along, we were transported into a whole different world. Our first brush with civilization came when we reached Santosh hotel-right in the middle of nowhere. After refreshing glasses of lemon juice, and a packed lunch of idlies, we set off again…more walking through some lovely leafy paths..uphill most of the time and treacherous roots and fallen trees to add some variety, we finally decided to stop for lunch.

And a lovely lunch it was, in the midst of a green forest, using a fallen tree as a table and improvising with zero cutlery. Lunches at the office cafeteria are now going to be oh so boring from now on.

Laboring along, we finally made it to the top, and the trek was made so much more fun by the constant bantering and ribbing as well as all the encouragement (that was strictly for me…the newbie amongst the veteran trekkers ). The views along the way had us all spell bound. At times, we were walking along the very edge of a hill and if you looked down, you were not even able to see the bottom!! We finally got to a tiny tea shop at Kodachadri where, after, gulping down cups of refreshing tea, made arrangements for our stay that night; in a tiny room with a broken door and loose tiles…but tired as we were; we were dead to the world that night.

The evening saw us take to the hills again (yes, we were suckers for punishment) to go see sunset point, and the hill where Adi Shankaracharya supposedly meditated trying to cajole the goddess Mookambika to spread her munificence to Kerala too. Getting to the tiny temple on top of the hill, we were met with a strange sight…people sitting on piles of stones..all of them in various stages of meditation…while groups of tourists made enough noise to wake up the dead!!

More spectacular views , each better than the other, the monotony of the beautiful vistas only broken by a tiny, well camouflaged snake that one of our photography enthusiasts promptly captured(on camera thank god); sticking his lens close enough for the snake to strike if it was so inclined. He was just plain lucky that it was one of the non venomous varieties.

The next morning saw D, the most enthusiastic of the lot, leap out of his green sleeping bag, (it reminds me of a green snake shedding its skin) to try and drag the rest of us to watch the sunrise. Thankfully, it was misty and the two lazy people didn’t miss much!!

The next day saw us take a detour to Ottinene near Baindoor as one of us in the group did not want to go back without having caught a glimpse of the sea!! Back into our favorite bus, this time to Baindoor. Getting off and trudging along what seemed like a dirt track to nowhere lead us to one of the most beautiful vistas of the sea that I have ever seen, viewed from a cliff. There were guest houses built along the very edge of the cliff and they sure could boast of even loos with the most spectacular of views!!

The trip back saw us get back into the same bus we had been using all this while, this time to get to Shimoga. Unfortunately for us, we weren’t able to book seats on any buses before 10:30 pm. Finally, we made it on a rattling old bus, which delivered us safely to Bangalore the next morning.

Thinking back, the trip was perfectly summed up by P’s words, “This was one of those treks where your tummy hurt (laughing!!) more than your legs!!

Scissors, paper and stone??

Glue perhaps!! It is that time of the year again, when there is a frantic search for saved-up brown wrapping paper, labels, glue, scissors and all of the other paraphernalia in preparation for the yearly ritual of “book wrapping”.


As usual, I had left it to the last minute and 8:30 pm last night finally saw me sit down and tackle this long-overdue task. Frantic appeals to hubby dear for help were met with “We didn’t have to wrap our books in school.” Now I wonder if this is the case with all the schools in Trivandrum or was it only hubby dear’s snooty convent that had this rule?? And beneath it all I have this niggling feeling (call it a woman’s sixth sense) that this is the easiest cop out that hubby dear could come up with at the moment.

So that avenue closed, I set to with a gusto, with frequent pauses due to paper cuts and labels not behaving themselves and sticking themselves everywhere except where they were supposed to go.

My mind flashed back to when friends at work had told me they were going to be outsourcing this task. All agog, I had asked for details. It seems an enterprising bunch of people would wrap books for any school per specifications for a small sum of money. This included doing it for those schools who insisted on white paper wrapping, newspaper wrapping, polythene sheet wrapping…you asked for it...they got it done!! Why, oh why, had I not taken the number?

As the night progressed, nostalgia replaced my outrage at having to do this all by myself while hubby dear and son were fast asleep upstairs. Scenes of the past flashed past my eyes. Doing this almost reverentially while I was at school, the glue all over the floor, my poor mom having to get it all off, the bits of brown paper that were magically turned into fantastic beasts with just a tiny bit of glue; placing the newly wrapped books into a brand new bag, and going to sleep ecstatic that it was a brand new year school with new friends and brand new experiences to boot!

11:30 pm and all is right with the world. I am done!! As I look at all the neat piles of newly wrapped books, my only regret is that I will not be the one that will be going off to school tomorrow. But then, Appu will, and that’s close enuff…me thinks!!

Hope you have a wonderful school year, Appu panther!!

NOSE BACK TO THE GRINDSTONE

I sit in a class (after some 10-odd years) with 50 others, zoned out and trying hard to keep an expression of avid interest on my countenance. It wouldn't do to antagonize the presenters. After all I have been there, done that. To stay awake, I begin a mental list of things I am going to be missing out on, now that I have rejoined the class of "working moms."

-No more pajamas all day long. Color coordination is in, and if the buttons are all intact-half the battle won.
-Yes, I do need to figure out where the comb has hidden itself.
-Yeah, I have to look at the clock at intervals and not just to see if
> my favorite movie has begun on the tube yet.
>
> -No more catnaps.
>
> -No more eating whenever I felt like it.
>
> -No more gaining malicious pleasure out of scaring salesmen with gunk on
> my face.
>
> -No more dance class and prancing about the gym.
>
> -No more walks to pick up my son and seeing the grin on his face as he
> races home.
>
> -No more time or energy to listen to all the stories his vivid
> imagination conjures up.
>
> -No more tea-time gossip sessions with mom.
>
>
>
>
>
> Sigh!!! Is it all worth it in the end???
>
>
>
>
>

HAIR TODAY GONE TOMORROW

Emergency situation that called for drastic action.

Appu’s head was beginning to sport a realistic afro and his tiny little face was lost somewhere in all those curls. Repeated entreaties to both men in the family were met with a “later, we are busy.”

Never one to give up once I got something into my head, I decided to take Appu to the nearby barber’s. This decision was met with a scandalized reaction from my dad. “What?” “Youre going to go into a men’s saloon?” “ Are you out of your mind?” “What will people think?”

“That I came in to get my son’s hair cut, that’s what.” Proud of myself for having come up with a witty retort at least this once and feeling distinctly superior for breaching yet another male bastion, off I went. As I parked my bike, I was filled with trepidation. Had I bitten off more than I could chew? Was I ok with being stared at by all the resentful men waiting for their haircuts? What if Appu decided to kick up a fuss and refused to sit still?

Praying to all the gods I could think of, I set foot inside the saloon and surprise, surprise!!! Not a single patron around. It was a Tuesday, when most people do not get their hair cut.

My heart rate returned to normal and I made myself comfortable while my son got his hair cut. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t move a muscle for the next 15 minutes. Were there any more surprises in store for me?

As I sat around waiting for the barber to finish, I looked around the saloon. No girlie pictures, not even a calendar. But every single brand of hair dye and bleach I had ever heard of was displayed on the shelves. It was funny to see all those female faces on the boxes in an all-male saloon. Whoever thought of fairness creams, bleaches and shampoos for men is certainly going to be laughing all the way to the bank!!

Made for each other

I, like hundreds of working women the world over, have a love hate relationship with my maid.  Or should I be saying household helper to be politically correct? 

I cannot fathom why she needs to have the simplest instructions repeated over and over again and I am sure she wonders why I nitpick so much;  and why I cannot leave my  frustrations at work where it belongs-in the office!!

However, at times I do wonder which one of us is truly the “emancipated” one.  She, who is unlettered, manages the household finances so well that she actually manages to put away a small amount each month for each of her children, while I, with all the resources available to me, still need to take the help of hubby dear even to declare my taxes!!

I have hit a wall trying to convince hubby dear that adopting a baby would be a good idea (relatives be damned!) while she, has gone right ahead, adopted one and brought her up to be a woman in her own right; able to stand up for herself.

So, imagine my shock when she, who was unfazed even when her roof caved in and her house was flooded (two separate instances) was reduced to a crying, shivering mass of nerves the other day.  The whole story, when it came out, reduced me to temporary paralysis too.  Her elder daughter, allegedly for no rhyme or reason, had emptied a cauldron of boiling hot sambhar over herself, and  my poor maid was informed of it  only three days later.

In between trying to get more information from the faraway Vellore CMC hospital and trying to get my maid there at the earliest, I was stuck by how fragile our lives were.  One wrong step by anyone in our orbit and all our hopes and dreams, all our calculations and plans can go up in smoke.   I havent heard from her in two days; while I am writing this, I am hoping and praying that her daughter recovers and that it was all an accident….the alternate is too horrifying to even imagine.