CONTROL + C, CONTROL + V

A few days back I went to a photocopy shop to get a copy of my driving license.  The shopkeeper was busy copying a textbook.  As I waited, I remembered that my brother, while he was in college, when he could not get a book prescribed by the University anywhere, borrowed it from his college library and copy-wrote the whole text.  He got so thorough with the content because of this exercise that he never again had to read it for his exams.  I thought of advising the students who were waiting to collect the copies to do a similar exercise, but refrained thinking that it was unethical to do so in a photocopy shop.  When the shopkeeper finished the job and started sorting the copies, I noticed that the size of the text was reduced to the size of a palm.  I have observed in offices when a user of a photocopier enlarges or reduces the standard copy size and doesn’t reset the settings after use, the subsequent user ends up taking the copies as per the previous setting.  Assuming the shopkeeper had inadvertently copied the sheets at a reduced size, I informed the shopkeeper. He did not respond to my comment and continued sorting.  Only when the shopkeeper smiled looking at me through the corner of his eyes while handing over the sheets to the students, I realized that they are bits.  (Bits in student parlance in Tamilnadu are pieces of answer sheets carried on one’s person to examination hall, hidden from the invigilators.  It has a totally different meaning in the adult world.  Now that the “Kolaveri” is a big hit, it is high time the world learns some of the euphemisms in Tanglish.)

For a moment I thought I should advice the boys, but soon changed my mind.  I should confess it is not just because of my resolution not to give unsolicited advice, but also because I was little intimidated by the body language of the over-grown boys.  They probably had read my mind while I tried to read their school name from their badges.  I silently collected my license and the copy and left the shop.

Throughout my student life, I never copied.  Not that I was very principled.  I just didn’t have the opportunity.  My parents were very strict and ensured that we (I and my siblings) didn’t carry our textbooks and notes to school on the days of examination.  They thoroughly checked our pencil and geometry boxes for possible “bits” before we left to the school.  Moreover, I and my siblings studied in the same school and we acted as checks on each other.  Any mischief was reported back home at light speed.  Also, I was caught in the personality cage of a “good girl” and I worked hard to maintain that image. 

On a few occasions while writing exams when I failed to recollect a formula or a phrase in a definition, I looked forward for some prompting from the girls sitting next to me, but I was never lucky.  The girls who were ready to help didn’t have an answer and those who knew, didn’t want to help.  I was initially magnanimous in helping my classmates, but over a period of time, I developed a unique style of writing and so didn’t want anyone to copy my answers.

While I was in my 2^nd year of college, we had a class test.  The lecturer excused herself after dictating questions.  There was a festive mood in the class when the lecturer left the room, which lasted only for a few minutes.  The paper was so tough that none of us knew the answers.  Most of us could not comprehend the questions and could not identify the chapters from which the questions were asked.  Some brave girls opened the books looking for answers, but failed to locate them.  The lecturer returned and collected the answer sheets.  The entire class failed and we had a retest.  The lecturer later said that she wanted us to understand the concept of “open book system” of exams.

Coming to the present, I feel we are all hypocritical.  We happily copy ideas, fashions, technology, content, tunes, designs, trends etc. and with the advancement and penetration of the world wide web, all that we do most is Control + C and Control + V, but insist that the students follow the old pattern of examinations.  Isn’t it time for a change? Why preach what we cannot practice?

HAR EK FRIEND ZAROORI HOTA HAI!

Dedicated to my childhood friends, who made an impact!

D was a year junior to me.  She joined our school when I was in U.K.G.  She was a very bright and hardworking student and by the end of the first term, the school authorities decided to promote her to U.K.G. (as she knew more than the L.K.G. teacher) and so she became my classmate.  D learnt several songs, dances, poems and stories from her mother and as and when she learnt, she performed before the class enthusiastically.  Impressed with a song and dance sequence she performed one day in the class, the teachers decided to include it in the Annual Day Programme.  The song was in a question-answer mode and hence required another performer.  Since I had no stage fear, the teachers decided to make me her partner.  This had upset her.  She tried to influence the teachers by telling them that I wasn’t fluent in Tamil.  The teachers were confident and convinced her that I was a fast learner and I should perform with her.  Reluctantly she taught me.  We rehearsed everyday for more than a month and I had got the pronunciation perfectly.  Everyone predicted that our performance would be the best event.  On the day of the function, I and D got on to the stage and started our performance.  The audience was spellbound and suddenly D stunned me by singing a stanza that was not rehearsed by us.  I didn’t know how to react and remained silent.  She waited for a few seconds and sang on my behalf and concluded.  The audience applauded and even after the screen was down, I stood there trying to reconcile.  My teacher dragged me into the greenroom and asked ‘how can you forget your lines?’  I was sad that though the rehearsals took place in the presence of our teachers, they did not remember the lyrics and also not realized D’s manipulation.  I neither answered to the teacher nor questioned D.  I accepted the blow with a lot of grace and changed my clothes and make-up as I was part of another play that was scheduled for the day.  Spontaneously I learned to move on and not get stuck. 

People like D are present everywhere and seen more in workplaces.  Because of this experience, I am able to handle unhealthy competition with ease.

After I completed my 5^th standard, I joined another school far away from home.  I had to walk for more than a kilometer to reach the nearest bus stand and take a bus to school.  Since I was not very confident to travel alone, I made friends with some girls who lived in the nearby localities and studied in the same school.  We formed a group and went together.  S who was part of this group was also my classmate.  She was very moody, cynical and passed sarcastic comments often. Two years later, my sister too joined the same school.  Though S was very rude and dominating, she was well informed and was good at planning.  She was the one who taught me to always have alternative plans.  When Indira Gandhi died and all buses and trains were cancelled, we had to walk all the way home.  As violence erupted on the main roads, S guided me and the other girls through narrow lanes to reach home. 

Over a period of time only I, my sister and S remained in the group, as the other girls either dropped out, or shifted to other schools/localities.  After my 10^th std., I and S were placed in different sections.  Still we continued to travel together.  S joined NSS and had classes/project assignments after school hours most of the days.  On such days, I and my sister left after school, as the duration of her assignments was indefinite and our parents insisted that we returned home before it was dark.  She knew this well. On a few occasions when my sister had special classes and I was waiting for her, S volunteered to wait.  Probably she was expecting me and my sister also to return the favour, but never expressed it categorically. One evening when she had a class, I and my sister left as usual and as we waited for her the next day, she walked past us.  Assuming that she had not seen us, we chased her and started walking alongside.  She walked very fast and avoided us.  Though I never considered her a great friend, her behaviour was very hurting.  Knowingly I had not insulted her or caused any harm to her, I was very shocked with her behaviour. I asked her why she was upset and tendered a blanket apology.  Still she remained silent.  She has never spoken to me after that.  We went to the same college after school and occasionally bumped into each other in the college corridors or office or library, but never acknowledged each others’ presence.

When I look back and analyze, dumping always happens in the same fashion.  It is first decided and implemented at an opportune moment.

When I joined a new school in my 6^th standard, V became my classmate.  She liked me very much.  She was a little taller than me and hence was not allowed to sit next to me in the first row, though she wanted to.  Majority of our classmates had Tamil as second language, while a few of us studied Telugu.  Those who chose Tamil had their class in our classroom and we (those opted Telugu) had to go to another room.  As we walked, she always held my hand.  There was a severe water scarcity in Madras then and as V lived near our school, carried water for me everyday.  As I was very fond of cold water, she brought water from her refrigerator.    We were very close and inseparable.  When we were in our 8^th standard, V got friendlier with a new set of girls who were a little notorious.  They frequently absented from school, went out without their parents’ approval, made fun of teachers, bullied other girls etc.  One of them also had a boy friend and eloped with him and her parents brought her home after a great struggle. Whenever someone in the class lost money, pens or notes, these girls were suspected.  I was very worried about V and I advised her not to be so friendly with the “bad girls” and she didn’t like it.  V and her friends once managed to steal a question paper from the staff room and a girl who witnessed this had informed me and I advised V. When she turned a deaf ear, I informed her mother about this incident and her friends.  This action of mine alienated V from me completely. 

I still feel that, if I had not tried to control V, I wouldn’t have lost her. Because of this experience, I don’t try to control anyone or give unsolicited advice, however much I am tempted to.

C was also my classmate.  She had a different set of friends initially and got into our group later.  She always pretended to be very innocent and this irritated me very much.  She never understood jokes or at least, that’s how she projected and every time some one cracked jokes or said something, we had to explain it to her.  This diluted the whole effect.  Once when someone shared some information and she didn’t understand, I started explaining and she not only interrupted, but also made fun of me.  I got very angry with my friends who blindly believed that she was very innocent.  I knew she wasn’t.  There was always inconsistency in the information she shared with us.  I was very sharp and had a very good memory.  I cornered her quite often by cross-questioning her.  My only aim was to prove to my friends that she wasn’t as innocent and good as she was projecting herself.  After I started questioning her, C started avoiding me and started influencing my friends because of which they felt I was bullying her.  I didn’t like them branding me a bully and I mellowed down.

It took a while for me to realise that, I have to choose my battles wisely and if I put my heart and soul into fighting over trivial issues, it would not be appreciated.

Childhood is nothing but a prelude to adulthood!

I have learnt a lot from my acquaintances during my childhood.  While I learnt how others’ behaviour affects me from D and S, I learnt how others react or respond to my behaviour from V and C.

Har ek friend zaroori hota hai! La lala la la lala lala la la lala la la lala la……..

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

Recently I took an auto rickshaw to my office, as I was unwell and didn’t have the strength to ride.  Soon after I settled in the seat, the driver looking at me through the rear view mirror asked if I am an Iyer. (Iyer is the synonym for a Brahmin in Tamil Nadu)  I get very irritated when people, particularly strangers ask me personal questions and I nodded vaguely.  The driver then told me that he was carrying fish in the same auto and asked if it was objectionable to me.  I thanked him for his thoughtfulness and said that I had a nasal block and so could not smell anything and even otherwise I would not have objected.  He kept on talking and suddenly said that he hates Brahmins.  India is a paradox and very rarely people have a neutral attitude towards anything, including Brahmanism.  People either have great reverence for Brahmins or hatred towards them.

I have come across many people insulting and making fun of Brahmins for their accent, appearance, rituals and vegetarianism at schools, colleges, public places and offices, but always ignored.  An over-ambitious acquaintance of mine bulldozes everybody around to realize his goals.  When a person he tried to pressurize did not yield, he made derogatory remarks about the Brahmins as a whole, as the other person is a Brahmin and I felt it was unwarranted. 

All through my life I have never perceived myself as a Brahmin.  In fact, I am considered a rebel. Even before the term “global citizen” became popular, I thought I was one.  In an interview, actress Shabana Azmi had said that the demolition of Babri Masjid made her conscious of her Muslim identity.  The sarcastic and hurting remarks by my acquaintance made me conscious of my Brahmin identity.  Generally I don’t react or respond.  But this particular episode, made me think as to why people have so much of hatred towards Brahmins and why even the educated, empowered and elite also don’t spare them.

When the auto driver raised the issue, I decided to share my ideas with him and I first let him finish his talk.  He told that he grew up in a remote town in south Tamil Nadu and while he was in school, his best buddy was a Brahmin.  They studied and played together, but he was never invited to his friend’s home and this bothered him very much.  One afternoon, he went to meet his friend at his home uninvited and his friend kept him engaged in the front room.  He expected his friend to take him inside his house, but that did not happen.  He felt that though he is a “caste Hindu”, and richer than his friend, his friend’s parents were not warm and looked down upon him.  He alleged that despite poverty, Brahmins are proud and arrogant and have a split personality.  They are outwardly social but at home are very orthodox and that they are inhuman and the root cause of all problems in the country.  He also said that Brahmins are very prejudiced and don’t encourage or support non-Brahmins in any of their endeavour.  He even started talking against Hinduism.

When he paused, I started talking.  I told him that Hinduism is a very ancient religion which has evolved over a period of time and is still getting enriched with the contributions of several intellectuals.  The culture, religion, art, knowledge, social norms and spirituality have always been enmeshed in the Indian sub-continent and hence difficult to handle them as watertight compartments.  A person cannot understand the intricacies of Brahmanism or Hinduism when he/she has preconceived notions about it.

For several centuries, Brahmanism was endorsed by rulers, merchants and the landlords.  With the arrival of Europeans, the scene started changing.  The system certainly had flaws and hence not survived in its original form.  The British rule and India’s Independence changed the social picture completely.  Indian Government has adopted a secular Constitution, providing equal opportunities to all communities.

I explained to him that Brahmins perceived their home and their body as “Temples” and believed that maintaining a sterile atmosphere was a must and excluded and stayed away from all those who didn’t conform.  Rules and regulations are stipulated in the scriptures for everything starting from rising from bed to retiring to bed and the present generation which is caught between the two worlds tries to follow a few rules as per the scriptures at home.  Their priorities, table manners, rituals and lifestyle are beyond the comprehension of others and hence are ridiculed.  I questioned the driver if his friend or his family members offended him or caused any harm to him in any other manner and he said “No”.

Since the driver made a mention about his caste and that too proudly, I recollected an article I read in a newspaper.  In some of the villages in South Tamil Nadu, even now, caste Hindus build walls around the colonies of the most backward, thus restricting their entry into their villages.  “Honour Killings” are very common in that region.  Referring to this and the other atrocities against the down trodden in the region the driver hails from, I questioned the role of Brahmins in these activities.  He replied that no Brahmins are involved in this and all of them have migrated from those villages and towns several years back.  Then I asked him if his disposition towards all human beings irrespective of the caste/religion is uniform.  He laughed sheepishly and did not answer.  I then asked him “is this not hypocrisy?”

I told him that the problem is due to faulty thinking and a person is as big or as small as he thinks.  Though “knowledge” is available to all, not many pursue it.  People are happy cribbing about their ancestors being denied access to “knowledge”.  Any person who focuses on “knowledge” is sure to succeed as knowledge not only makes a person humble, but also confident.  I told him that several positive changes have taken place in our society in the last century and we never speak about them.  Take for instance weddings!  In olden days, the guest list included only the close relatives.  The present day weddings are an indication of cultural integration.  Many marriages are happening between communities and the most important event – the feast.  Feasting together was unheard of a century ago.  Is this change not worth celebrating?

Though most of the Brahmins have adapted to changing times, some of them continue to practice age old traditions at home.  I told what a person wears or eats is an individual prerogative and unless it causes harm to others or to the society, nobody has the right to criticize or question it.  I told him, if a person insults or hurts him, he has to settle scores with him or her directly and not hold grudge against the whole community for ages.  I told him that inequality will continue to exist in some form or the other in a world where the resources are limited.  If it is not on the basis of caste, it would be something else and that the focus has to be on minimizing the gap and mudslinging is not the solution.

I advised him to acknowledge and appreciate the social changes and shed his inferiority/superiority complex over other castes.  Most of the Brahmins have migrated to urban areas and the present generation has no idea of orthodoxy or their lineage. I told him not be obsessed about proving them wrong.   I also requested him not to pass on his pride and prejudices to his next generation.

I spoke to him in a uniform tone and he listened patiently.  It almost took us one hour to cover a distance of 8 kms.  When I reached my destination, the driver thanked me for the ‘gyan’ I shared with him and promised to change his attitude.  He expressed regret that I have not chosen teaching as my profession, for I could have shaped up many lives.  This is the best compliment I have ever received.

After reading this, you should all be wondering if I have ever advised Brahmins on these issues!  Yes I do it quite often.

REMOTE CONTROL

After a long time, I traveled by bus due to incessant rains and the resultant flooding of roads.  A good looking, young North Indian lady sat next to me. From her body language I could make out that she too is not used to the public transport.  The bus was fully packed and there was a bad traffic jam and the bus moved very slowly.  The lady seated next to me picked up her phone and started a conversation.  Under ideal situations, when someone is discussing personal issues, I would excuse myself.  But the situation on that day was different.  I tried hard to think about something else and not listen to her conversation, but I failed and I overheard her conversation.  It is certainly not fair to discuss someone else’s troubles and that too on a blog.  But I am sure what she was discussing was not unique to her.  It can happen to anybody and so I thought I should write about it.

From what I overheard and understood, she is recently married.  Both the lady and her husband are software engineers employed in Chennai.  The lady and her husband went to watch a film a few days back and kept their phones on a silent mode.  The lady’s mother-in-law tried calling the lady’s husband several times and when he did not respond, tried to reach this lady in reference.  When she too had not responded, she tried calling some relatives and friends and all of them tried calling these two people and when there was no response, the lady’s mother-in-law called the lady’s mother and learnt that the couple has gone to watch a film. (The lady’s mother had called just before the couple entered the theatre and so she was informed.)  During the interval, the lady’s husband saw several missed calls on the phone and called his mother to check if everything was fine.  His mother was very upset that the couple had gone to watch a film without informing her and for not responding to her calls.  (If you assume that the couple in reference is from a joint family, you are mistaken.  The parents are living in a small town in North India and the young couple in Chennai.)

  

The mother-in-law on coming to know about the unusual Chennai monsoon and flooding tried calling her son on that fateful day and when both the son and the daughter-in-law had not picked up the phones, she panicked.    Offended by the fact that the lady’s mother had more information about the couple, the mother-in-law became hysteric and started fighting with her son on the phone.  The son tried to pacify the mother, but failed miserably.  Through his father and sister, the lady’s husband learnt that his mother was very angry that his wife had not bothered to apologize and as a protest has locked herself in a room and refusing food and threatening to commit suicide. 

The young lady, who had a cosmopolitan upbringing, is shocked with the developments.  Her husband wanted her to fly with him to his parents’ home to calm his mother.  When she refused, he is upset and withdrawn.  The young lady is stressed.  Her husband is stressed and so are his parents and other family members.  The lady literally cried in the bus as she spoke to her relative/friend on the phone and strangers sitting around had to console her. 

This kind of problem is unique to India. 

In ancient times, human beings were nomadic and always flocked together, as they had to protect themselves from nature and wild animals.  I think it is the same fear factor that has resulted in joint family system in India.  After India attained independence, with industrialization and  economic development, people who were till then dependent on traditional jobs, starting migrating in search of greener pastures resulting in disintegration of the joint family system.  IT revolution galvanized the process further.  The older generation, unable to come to terms with the new found freedom of their children tries to hold them tight by other ways and means.  It is their sense of insecurity that results in the bad behaviour and harassment.  I do agree that they stretch a lot to raise their children.  Does that mean that they have to control them for a life time?

I was very shocked with this episode and I discussed it with my friend.  I had never thought that such behaviour is prevalent in the upper middle and elite classes. My friend narrated his experience.  Several years ago, my friend, visited a clinic near his home late in the evening with his young son, who was unwell.  The clinic was run by a Doctor couple.  Though the clinic was open, the Doctors were not available.  When my friend questioned the compounder present at the clinic as to why the clinic was not closed when the Doctors were not available, the compounder replied that the Doctors had gone to watch a film without the knowledge of the mother-in-law and the clinic was kept open to attend to the phone call the mother-in-law is likely to make.  (Please note, there were no mobile phones then) My friend amused with the reply asked, “What excuse would you offer if you get a call now?”  To this the compounder replied, “I will tell that they have gone to attend to an emergency case”.  I am quoting this just to explain how parents chase their children and how children manipulate things.

I really don’t understand why grownup children have to be leashed?  Somehow, this reminds me of the famous story “The Blind Dog” by R.K.Narayan, which illustrates a regrettable, yet a realistic dilemma of freedom vs. necessity.  In the story, when a blind man binds a dog with leash, a desire for freedom makes the dog run away.  However, with no food, the dog returns to the blind man.  The case is similar to many Indian homes, where the parents like the blind man are dependent on their children and the children long for freedom, but return to parents for emotional and financial reasons.

I have a question to the parents:  Why can’t there be a peaceful coexistence? You always quote from the scriptures and expect your son to be like Lord Rama who went to exile as ordered by his father without questioning.  Are you aware that as per the scriptures there are four stages in life viz., Brahmacharyam, Grihasthasramam, Vanaprastham and Sanyasam? How many of you are ready to accept Vanaprastham and Sanyasam?

No two generations are the same and please accept change.  Don’t suffocate your loved ones.  I know it is very difficult to let go things.  Please note plants do not grow well under a shady tree.  Let your children experiment, make mistakes and learn from their mistakes.  Why should adults be treated like kids?  Give them their space, independence and dignity.

A few suggestions for children: I don’t at all suggest that parents have to be abandoned or ignored or insulted.  Please handle them.  Handle them with dignity and respect and don’t forget your self-respect in the process.  Please do not surrender.  By surrendering, you cannot satisfy them.  Don’t let them chase you.  Reach out to them.  Reassure that you love them and that you are there for them.  Provide information proactively.  Never discuss trivial matters in detail.  Don’t let them decide on your behalf.  Never encourage bad and uncivil behaviour.  Don’t yield to control games and succumb to emotional blackmail.  Be empathetic and explain to them calmly when there is a difference of opinion.

Take charge of your life.  Sooner, the better it is.

Life is so precious; why should it be lived so badly?

P.S. Children - when you grow older, read the suggestions for the parents.

NOT AT ALL DIRTY – A TRIBUTE TO ‘SILK’ SMITHA

In the late 80’s, I had the habit of walking for an hour after dinner and one night while I was walking in our garden, I saw a lady walking her dog on the road.  She looked familiar and when I went close, I was shocked.  It was none other than ‘Silk’ Smitha.  I rushed into our house and told my people about this.  Next day, my dad found out that Smitha had moved into a palatial house in our colony.

Several of our neighbours were associated with the film industry and many of them were troublesome.  They poached servants, parked cars haphazardly on the road, tampered with water connections, let out sewerage into open drains, threw garbage on the road, picked up quarrels with neighbours and more than anything else, were arrogant.

Smitha, or rather her family was different.  They were unusually silent. They never interacted with any neighbours, let alone fight or trouble.  Her house was isolated.  She lived with her partner, a man who was much senior to her and his grown up children.  I had seen her occasionally in the nights, cycling, walking her dogs or just walking with her partner, holding hands.

The only time I saw her during daytime was when our road was dug for laying of underground sewerage drains.  By the time she returned from a shooting in the afternoon in her car, the road was cut and she could not drive down. Since ours is a blind lane and there is no other route, she had to get down the car and walk to her home.  Shod in stilettos, she walked very briskly and with great confidence over the mountains of clay on the bumpy road.  She looked very dignified even in her glamorous costumes.

She regularly visited the Vinayaka temple in our colony and donated liberally.  We felt the presence of a film star only when she shuttled in her Standard 2000 car and when they burst expensive crackers during Deepavali.

Poor people approached her seeking monetary help.  When refugees from Sri Lanka arrived in India in large numbers during the mid and late eighties, many of them visited her and sought her help to settle down. People generally asked us for direction to her house, as ours is the first house in the lane.  One such refugee, who asked us for directions, while returning stopped at our house, thanked us for helping him with the address and praised Smitha’s magnanimity.

An adolescent girl from rural Andhra, annoyed with her parents, with no money in hand, boarded a train to Madras and hired an auto rickshaw and directed the driver to take her to Smitha’s house.  The driver who initially thought that the girl was known to Smitha, later understood that she had run away from home and with great care drove her to our colony and like many others, stopped near our house asking for direction to Smitha’s house.  On seeing the girl and from a conversation with the auto driver, my dad understood the gravity of the situation and worried about the girl’s safety, advised her to go back to her village.  The girl was very determined to stay at Madras and become an actress and went on to meet Smitha.  Smitha paid the auto charges, fed the girl and not only convinced the girl to return to her home, but also made arrangements for her return home with an escort.  She was so responsible.

One evening in mid 90’s when I returned home from work, my colony was barricaded by Police and there were nearly a thousand people in my street.  My heart stopped for a moment.  I thought there was either a fire accident or some other catastrophe.  When I managed to enter my house, my mother informed me about Smitha’s death.  She had committed suicide the previous night, after writing a letter to ‘God’ in Telugu.  The letter was published in several vernacular papers and many of my friends brought it to me for translation.  I don’t remember the exact content, but obviously it was written when she was very depressed.  The cause for the depression is not known.  It could have been her declining work assignments, or the money she lost in film production or the stress of being in an undefined relationship.  Whatever be the cause, the end is really sad,

After she died, we learnt that the house she lived in was not her own, but was a rented one.  Her partner vacated the house soon after her death and since there were rumours of the house being haunted, the landlord could not get a new tenant and the house was later demolished.

I don’t know how she is being portrayed in the to-be released ‘Dirty Picture’.  She certainly was not dirty.

WHAT A SHOT!

I heard the term “shooting” several times while I was growing up.  The reason; there were several film studios in the vicinity and many neighbours were associated with the film industry.  Many times films were shot in our colony, which in those days resembled a picturesque Kerala village.

Every time there was a shooting in our locality, children from our neighbourhood went to watch it.  My parents and brothers were very protective and never allowed me to go.  But, I was always curious and eager to watch film shootings.

A neighbour of mine was a film producer and I loved spending time at his house playing with his daughters and dogs.  My mother, who is a strict disciplinarian, permitted me to go to my neighbour’s house after laying down several conditions.  They were;

1)      I would behave myself and not cause trouble to anyone or cause damage to anything.

2)      I would not go beyond the verandah or the living room in their house.

3)      I would not eat or drink anything in their house and also would not hang around when it was time for their meals.

4)      I would not speak loudly or pick up fights with anyone

5)      I would return home immediately if my friend’s father or any other guest(s) arrived.

6)      I would not ask my parents to get me the toys my neighbours had.

After I promised to adhere to all the conditions, my mother would let me to go.   One afternoon, as I was playing a board game with my neighbour’s daughters, a few vans and cars with lot of equipment and people arrived and there was a sudden commotion.   I learnt that a shooting was scheduled in their house.  Though I always kept my promises, on that particular day, I decided that I would listen to my heart and stayed back in their house in spite of all the activity happening there.  My mother sent word to me through my neighbour’s maid instructing me to return home, probably when I did not respond to her calls.  Whenever she felt I had played enough and it was time for me to return home, she would stand near the wall between our houses and call my name very loudly and I would return home immediately.  Under normal circumstances, if I had not responded to her calls, she would have personally come to take me back home, but since there were so many men there, she was hesitant and so I decided to watch the shooting.

My neighbour’s house was very large.  There were several bed rooms apart from a verandah, living room, kitchen, dining room, shrine room, a large office, a playroom and servant quarters.  First they shot in a bedroom in the basement.  The passage to the bedroom was filled with the crew and I could not see anything.  To get a glimpse and also to save myself from a stampede, I climbed the stairs connecting the bedrooms and tried to peep down, but in vain.  After a while, the team shifted from the basement bedroom to another bedroom and carried all the equipment through the staircase I was standing on.  I was very scared to watch the crew interacting at high decibels at one time and becoming absolutely silent at another.  I was once again unlucky when the shooting started in the second bedroom near the staircase.  They pushed me literally aside and I landed in a passage that led to another bedroom.  I saw some people getting into that room and so I followed them.  That was the master bedroom.  The room was air-conditioned and fully decorated with flowers and resembled a marriage hall.  Within a few minutes of me stepping into the master bedroom, the entire crew shifted there.  They placed the camera near the door and the entire crew assembled before the large bed.  Some of them squatted on the floor and some got on to the attic holding large lights.  Two actors resembling a bride and groom entered the room.  The actor wore a silk dhoti and kurta and he was directed to sit on the bed.  The actress wore a white silk saree with a red border and was bedecked in temple jewellery.  She had a silver glass in her hand.  Many from the crew were giving instructions to the actors very loudly and like obedient students, the actors listened to them.  It took some time for me to comprehend what was happening around.  Too many people were talking at the same time.  One gentleman from the crew instructed the actress to walk through the door and go towards the actor sitting on the bed.  Since the camera was placed near the door, and the entire crew stood there, it could not be done.  Suddenly somebody got an idea and suggested that she enters the room through the door of the balcony instead, as the room also had a balcony.  There was a loud applause for the idea and they opened the door to the balcony.  It was broad daylight and the scene was supposed to be in the night.  Hence they decided not to open the door, but advised the actress to start the scene from bolting the door of the balcony.  (Filmmakers always think out of the box and they have a razor sharp mind.  The entire crew was very innovative and was improvising spontaneously).  

The actress as directed, pretended to bolt the balcony door, turned and walked towards the bed very gracefully, placed the glass on the side table and fell at the actor’s feet.  The actor was then asked to stand up, hold the actress in his arms, hug her tightly, caress and kiss her. The actress had to blush and then shed tears.  This was the scene.  Believe me; the Director was literally giving every instruction to the actors.   The actors rehearsed the scene a few times and then the crew decided to shoot. When an assistant clapped the clapboard and the camera started rolling, there was pin drop silence and the actors started enacting.   Somehow, every time, somebody or the other in the crew was unhappy with the output and suggested more improvisations to the scene and the Director shouted “one more take”.  The actors in between shots, checked their makeup and got ready for the shot with dedication.  They tried several angles, several positions, different hugs, different smiles, different tears, but still the crew was dissatisfied.  Everybody had an opinion.  Some felt the actor was not showing enough excitement and some felt the actress was not blushing and emoting adequately.  They made the actors do the same scene nearly twenty five times.  Though I could not comprehend what exactly was happening there, I felt very awkward.  I also felt sorry for the actors.   The actress and her mother were little fussy and expressed irritation about the retakes, but the actor was very patient and without a frown or resistance he adhered to the Director’s instructions.  (No doubt he later became a famous actor and now a successful realtor in Hyderabad).

In one of the takes, as the actors changed their positions and hugged each other, the actress spotted me kneeling under the tripod of the camera, open-mouthed and starring at them.  I was a six year old then.  The actress felt thoroughly embarrassed to perform a “love scene” before a child and requested that I am sent out.  The crew had a hearty laugh looking at me and they carefully carried (read threw) me out of the room.

Later, I accompanied my parents to the film preview and eagerly waited for this particular scene on the screen.  It was a black and white film and was not as colourful as the shooting was.   The scene featured only for a fraction of a second on the screen and that too was shown through the eyes of a voyeuristic man peeping into the bedroom through the keyhole.  It was also a long distance shot and none of the perfect expressions the crew demanded from the actors were visible on the screen.  I don’t know if the scene had any relevance to the story as well.

My desire to watch a film shooting was completely satiated that day and never again I had I got excited about it.

SIMPLE LIVING – HIGH THINKING

Our parents raised us (me and my siblings) based on the principle; simple living – high thinking, the crux of Hinduism.  They continue to lead us by example and live a simple life.  They resist luxury and grandeur in any form.  Born and raised in the pre-independence period, my parents were very much influenced by Gandhiji’s principles of self-reliance and even till date opt to be independent in every possible way.  With great difficulty we (me and my siblings) made or rather make our parents use furniture and gadgets at home.  Till a decade ago, we didn’t have a domestic help or a motor pump to draw water from the well.  Many, including our neighbours and close relatives felt, we were weird.  Our parents’ life style and priorities bothered us during our formative years, but as we grew up, we have imbibed our parents’ simplicity.

I wear simple cotton clothes and minimal jewellery and unlike many of my contemporaries, don’t visit beauty salons.  I am confident without any makeup and believe me; many have even found me attractive sans makeup!  I eat vegetarian food as a matter of principle and since I have digestive problems, I prefer simple and bland food.  I sleep on the floor and don’t use a pillow, as I suffer from cervical spondylosis.  Every time I lie down on the cold floor and close my eyes, I remember the words of Adi Sankaracharya, the advocate of Advaita philosophy our family follows, who sang

“sura mandira taru muula nivaasaH
sayyaa bhuutala majinaM vaasaH
sarva parigraha bhoga tyaagaH
kasya sukhaM na karoti viraagaH”

Which can be roughly translated as; “make a temple or the shade of a tree your residence, make deerskin your clothes, and let mother earth be your bed. Give up all attachments and renounce all comforts. Blessed with such Vairāgya (a Sanskrit term used in Hindu philosophy that refers to dispassion, detachment, or renunciation, in particular renunciation from the pains and pleasures in the material world), could any fail to be content?

I often question myself.  Am I really leading a simple life?  My heart says “No” because, that is the truth.

I work for a living, which means spending most of my time and energy at work place or in getting ready for work or in travel to office.  Working results in sharing space with many and involves a high amount of people management, irrespective of the position one occupies in the hierarchy of the organization one works for, which makes the whole scene complex.

With no other likely source of income in future, I need to save.  As money value diminishes over a period of time, I need to invest.  Putting all eggs in one basket is risky and also there are always opportunity losses in investment options and so a thorough analysis is required for investment, which again is a complex process.  Every time I invest, I again think of Sankaracharya.  He considered accumulation of wealth a sin and was against even saving for the next meal.  Though I was impressed with this thought, I now know it is impossible to follow in real life.

With my choice of work, lifestyle and investments, I need to remit several payments periodically.  Remembering the due dates is very important.  I operate multiple bank accounts for various reasons; one is my savings account, another my salary account, another my home loan account, another demat account, another account I had to open to avail locker facility.  Every account has its own passbook, documents, ID cards, debit cards etc.  With advancement of technology, all accounts are also accessible online, which means I have user ids and passwords, which would become invalid if not used properly or periodically.  Remembering passwords is one task and remembering silly questions and answers to revive forgotten or invalid passwords, is another.  To draw cash from the bank counter, I need to wait in a queue and to drawn cash from an ATM; I need to remember the right PIN.  I have a cooking gas connection, a cable connection for the TV, a landline, a mobile phone, an internet connection and all these are now made online.  Added to these are the EMI payments for the flat I purchased, meant for my post-retirement stay.  I purchased it against the wishes of my parents as they feel that assets can never be created with borrowed money.  They built their house out of their savings.  Such things are impossible in the present times.  I have to pay property tax, water tax, electricity bill and maintenance charges for my flat.  And after all this, I need to pay my income tax.

For a very long time, I used public transport for going to office.  I felt it was a sin to buy a vehicle for exclusive use.  (I am not exaggerating, I really thought so).  A guy who was head over heels in love with me changed my stance.  He chased me every day and unable to manage, when I shared it with my family, they forced me to compromise and get married, which I didn’t want.  The only alternative I had was to get a two wheeler, which I could afford and that Romeo could not.  Learning to ride a two wheeler is a milestone event in my life.  It made me independent and more confident.  But to own a vehicle, I had to register the vehicle and also get it insured and to drive it, I had to obtain a driving license.  Filling fuel and getting the vehicle serviced regularly also needs some effort and managing breakdowns is another tough chapter.

Whenever I think of simplicity, I also think of Mahatma Gandhi, who was an epitome of simplicity.  Many have spoken about him and his simplicity, but in this context, I am reminded of Sarojini Naidu, who once remarked, “It took a lot of money to keep Gandhi in poverty”.

In the present scenario, simplicity is redefined.  Simplicity is not so simple. 

Let me end this note again with Sankaracharya’s quote:

“maayaamayamidamakhilaM hitvaa”

Which means “Free yourself from the illusions of the world”. 

I feel simplicity too is an illusion.

I, My Dad and Cinema

Recently when my nieces visited us, my dad was watching a film sitting in a reclining chair and I was reading a book sitting behind him in a sofa.  Soon after they entered the room they asked my dad, the title of the film and when he did not respond, they asked me the same question.  I didn’t know what film my dad was watching and he didn’t know that I was also in the same room. My nieces felt it was funny.  This episode reminded me of my childhood.

I was born in the pre-television days.  TV was introduced in Madras when I was around five or six years old.  I am sure the present generation cannot comprehend a situation like that.  Shopping, chatting over phone, or even eating out were not considered entertainment options and video games and computers were also unknown.  The only source of entertainment was cinema. 

A few years before I was born, my parents shifted to the suburbs by building a house in a coconut grove.  They managed to live without electricity initially for a few months.  There were no roads, no water supply, no sewerage facility and not many houses in the vicinity.  My dad had to work for long hours and returned home very late every evening.  Most of the days, I was fast asleep when he returned.  On days he returned home early, he desired to watch a film.  Whenever he expressed this to my mother, she objected.  I wonder why he never went to watch films straight after work.  There was no way my mother could have found out if he had done that.  A friend of mine jokingly says that we should be descendants of Satya Harischandra!  Those days we did not have running water, domestic help or any gadgets at home and managing home was literally a fulltime job. My mother who was very tired with the chores, got angry with my dad for being away from home most of the time and agreed to let my dad watch a film if he had taken any one of us, with him.  (The term “us” includes me, my brother and my sister.)  My eldest brother is not included in this definition, as he was by then quite grown up and independent.  My dad mostly opted to take me with him, obviously because I was the least troublesome.  My mother too agreed, as she was relieved from protecting me from my siblings who were hyperactive, aggressive and mischievous.

My dad filled his shirt pocket with tiny biscuits and carried me on his shoulders and walked through a mango grove which is now the world famous Prasad Colour Lab.  Though it was fenced, literally everyone walked through it, as there was no connecting road to Arunachalam Road (Seeing the plight, L.V.Prasad had donated a piece of his land for a road before the lab was constructed).  My dad then took me to a tent.  I am unable to recollect the exact place where the tent existed, but it was diagonally opposite to the now Prasad Lab.  Most of the days, by the time we reached the tent, the screening had begun.  My dad was not very particular about watching the film from the beginning.  At whatever time we went, my dad was always offered a seat in the last row. He was very much respected in the locality. Most of the audience present there were farmers, agricultural and construction labourers – natives of the Saligramam village or workers in the film studios nearby.  My dad was absolutely not class conscious, even though he was working for the President of India at that time.  He would settle in his chair and place me on his lap.  I would sit facing my dad, turning my back to the screen and eat the goodies from his pocket one after the other and not disturb him for anything as he watched the film.  I never bothered him by asking for popcorn or cold drinks or never cried when there were screams in the film or never demanded to be taken back home while he watched.  I kept myself busy on his lap and after a while would fall asleep.  Once the film was over, he would carry me back home.  Though I accompanied my dad several times to the tent, believe me, I had not watched any of those films.  Probably they were all MGR films.

Coming to the present, my dad and I have very different tastes, particularly with regard to films.  My dad loves action and romantic films, while I can relate only to realistic films.  My dad loves watching the same film again and again and I cannot see the same film twice, unless it is an official assignment.  My dad watches James Bond, Jackie Chan, Sci-fi English films and also Indian films like Baasha, Pokiri, Athadu, Vikramarka, Badri, Parugu, Adurs etc. several times and every time he does, he does it with the same interest of watching it for the first time. 

When my dad now watches his favourite films I still turn my back to the screen and engage in reading or just get out of the room.

Sorry my dear friends!

In the two organizations I have worked till date, the lunch sessions are mostly separate for women and men.  We girls get complete privacy and all of us get into a festive mood, the moment the lunch session starts.  We share food, discuss recipes, crack jokes, plan work, exchange ideas, console each other in times of crises etc.    Despite all this, some times I feel out of place, particularly when my friends start discussing their in-laws; the “mother-in-law” and “sister-in-law”.

My grandmother died much before I was born and so I have never seen my mother complaining, about my grandmother.  I have seen maid servants in the neighbourhood using foul language and cursing their husbands and in-laws hysterically and always thought that such behaviour was associated with that class.  Alas! I was mistaken.  As my friends started getting married and they settled in their new homes, I started seeing a different picture.  Irrespective of the educational background, financial status or upbringing, the disposition of all the girls when it comes to their in-laws is the same.  Initially, I thought the person cribbing was really being harassed, resulting in her emotional outburst and I remained a mute spectator, sympathizing with her and not knowing how to offer a solution.  Over a period of time, I started feeling that all these ladies are going a little overboard and started to look deeper into the problem.

My observations are;

Ø      Women don’t relate to their husband’s home.  Though they live physically with their husbands, they mentally continue to live with their parents.  Their umbilical cord is yet to be cut and have no sense of belonging with their new home.

Ø      Refuse to graduate from the honeymoon stage and expect the same kind of pampering from their husbands throughout.

Ø      Play control games with inputs from mothers, sisters and like minded friends.

Ø      Magnify or exaggerate and manipulate problems based on others’ experiences.

Ø      No value for privacy.  Thanks to technology, discuss every happening with mothers, sisters and friends, leading to misunderstanding with the spouse. 

Ø      Love has become more conditional resulting in disappearance of the magic in love.

The four major components of a marital relationship are 1) Trust 2) Bonding 3) Love and 4) Intimacy and one leads to another in the same order and it is mutual and both partners are responsible to nurture the relationship.  When one lags behind, the other has got to stretch to maintain the balance and there lies the secret to the success of a marriage.

No respectable man would like his wife insulting his parents or his other family members and that too for not a serious reason.  This will slowly result in him losing trust in his wife and the bond weakens and the love disappears and the intimacy ends.  Though I have expressed it in a very curt manner, this is the cycle of decline of a relationship. 

Whenever I advice, my friends say being single, I have no moral right to advice them and if at all I am desperate to advice, I should do it as a married woman.  My best buddy at work says that if I happen to marry, I would die on the same night of my wedding (please don’t read between lines) as she feels that my stress threshold is low.

Let me tell you, life is a struggle, irrespective of the marital status.  I continue to live with my parents and I face almost all problems the other married women face at home.  When I face problems; I express, I discuss, I explain, I argue, I fight, I protest and at times withdraw.  Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I compromise.  But the difference is, I don’t bitch about my parents and continue to love them and discharge my responsibilities towards them. 

Sorry my friends, I know you would all be upset to read this.  But this is what I feel about the problem.  I don’t want you to think that I am a traditionalist and I am advocating a stereotypical role for women.  No.   You have every right to stick to your  maiden surname, not to wear traditional symbols of marriage, not to move out of your parents’ home or to stay away from your in-laws or to maintain a separate bank account or  manage your time or whatever you want to do.  But for heaven’s sake, please love and respect your partner and stop bitching. When you face problems, handle them.

Let me share a secret with you! All boys stop interacting with their parents by the time they are out of school and start giving importance to them only after the marriage and that too after seeing the wife giving importance to her parents.  When women start bitching about the in-laws, the men’s ego gets hurt and they start giving undue importance to their own parents.  Moral of the story; your bad behaviour results in more respect for your in-laws!

A note to men:  You are transplanting a fully grown adult from a familiar and comfortable territory to a foreign territory and it is your responsibility to induct her into a new life.  She is your better half and please don’t leave her to your parents.  Remember, she is in your home because of you.   

The marriage laws in India are very rigid and marriage is still revered as an institution and divorces are still considered a stigma and hence you are all protected.  Please don’t take your marriages for granted.  The future of a healthy society depends on healthy families and to have them, you need to have a healthy relationship with your spouses and set a good example for your children.

Life is precious – enjoy it to the fullest!

THE VEIL

We see many burqa clad women in malls, shopping centres, schools, airports, railway stations and on roads these days and if we assume that more and more Muslim women are coming out, I think we are wrong.  I don’t have the statistics to prove my point but I make this statement based on my personal observation.

I had recently encountered a burqa clad women in a supermarket. She lifted her veil for a few minutes to speak to the girl at the counter.  Her face was very familiar, but I could not recollect who she was.  In the process to identify her, I started thinking about all the Muslim women I have known.

Right from my childhood, we had Muslim neighbours, but I do not remember any of them wearing a burqa.   The women in those houses too draped the saree exactly the same way my mother and all other women, irrespective of the religion or caste, in the neighbourhood did.  The only difference was they did not wear a bindi on their foreheads.  Only on occasions they stepped out of their homes, they covered their head with the end of the saree and when they traveled, they draped a white hakoba shawl covering their head and shoulders.  They mingled freely with us and they were familiar with Hindu customs and culture.

Things are a little different now.  Independent houses are slowly vanishing and apartments are sprouting in their place and people now prefer homogeneous neighbours.  I feel we were more cosmopolitan earlier, than now.

A decade ago, a Muslim lady used to travel with me in the city bus everyday.  She was a lecturer in one of the colleges in Chennai.  Though I never interacted with her, I saw her almost everyday.  She lived in a house on the main road leading to the bus terminus, where we boarded the bus.  I learnt that she was a Muslim only from the name board on her house.  On several occasions, I had seen her walking the dog or watering plants in her garden in casuals and sometimes in the defacto national dress of our country, the nightie and every time I heard people talking about suppression of women in Islam, I thought of her.  She was apparently very modern and liberated.

Yes.  She is the same lady I met in the supermarket, but I am yet to come to terms that she could ever wear a veil. 

To be honest, whenever I drive my scooter in hot sun, I am tempted to wear a burqa to protect myself from scorching sun.  The burqa probably was designed for that purpose I think, as the temperature in the middle-east is very high where Islam originated. 

I know wearing a burqa is an individual’s prerogative, but I don’t know what motivated this lady in reference to do it. I don’t know whether she volunteered to go behind the veil or she has been forced to by her family. Whatever be the case, I am sad. If an erudite and an empowered lady has to take this, what would be the predicament of those who are not? What would be its impact on women of other religions of the world, particularly when a global culture is evolving?  Will the world be divided into two or will the women be suppressed again?

STATUS – SINGLE

“Chehra gora, baal lambe aur ankhein bade” (fair complexion, long hair and large eyes) says Shabana Azmi to a visually challenged Naseeruddin Shah in the Hindi film Sparsh, while discussing the yardsticks of beauty in India.

Many wonder why I have remained single, though I conform to the beauty standards mentioned above.  It is hard for people to believe that I have chosen to remain single.  I can understand the anxiety of my parents, siblings and a few other well wishers, but cannot comprehend the curiosity of others.  Every time I get introduced to a person, inevitably I am questioned about my marital status.  When I took a decision to remain single, I told myself to be prepared to face the music.  It is not just me, who has got bored answering this question, but my family members and some close friends who are constantly grilled about this are fed up.  What surprises me is that my status is discussed with the same intensity of a national calamity.  There is an adage in Telugu which says a person answering automatically becomes a subordinate to the one questioning. Many times out of respect and out of civility, I become a subordinate and answer patiently.

The toughest part is listening to advice sessions. Strangely, the easiest thing in the world is advising and the most difficult; listening to it.  My family and my best friends, who I consider as my extended family, have accepted me for who I am.  But, some of my acquaintances and relatives feel sad that they are unable to influence me. 

In my previous assignment, the Management of the Organization I was working for had arranged for a HR programme for the employees.  The agenda was not discussed with any of the participants before the programme commenced.    The person who conducted the programme is a reputed HR Consultant and a qualified Psychiatrist.  The programme was designed based on the hypothesis that, productivity at work place is directly proportional to harmony at home, particularly marital harmony.  So, the Consultant was hired to set right the marital problems of the employees, thus increasing productivity. After conducting a few games and when the participants were at ease, the Consultant started discussing problems the participants faced at home.  The participants suddenly became uninhibited and started complaining about so many funny problems they experienced at home, which varied from not getting an extra cup of coffee, to domestic violence, to the influence of in-laws on their spouses’ etc.   Suddenly, a colleague of mine asked the Consultant if matrimony and happiness were mutually exclusive.  A friend of this colleague in reference was unmarried and was apparently very happy.  My colleague doubted whether the friend was really happy or was pretending to be happy and asked the Consultant if a person can really be happy by being single.  Many of the participants, including me thought he was referring to me, but when the Consultant asked if that friend was present in the audience, and my colleague said “No”, I was relieved.  I did not want to be the subject of a public debate.  The Consultant did not want to discuss the subject elaborately, as he felt it was irrelevant, but said he was not supportive of some one remaining single, as he felt that, there would be a vacuum in life, because of which there would be no happiness.  When he said this, my colleagues who kept advising me to marry, looked at me with pride.  For average Indians, anything said from a dais over a mike is a gospel.  I thought my colleagues would take my life off me that afternoon.  Several other problems were discussed; many people cried on the Consultant’s shoulder and he offered them solutions instantly.

During the lunch break, my colleagues pounced on me as I had anticipated.  They complained that I don’t take them seriously and quoted what the Consultant had said about singletons and advised me to take him seriously and plan to marry.  Though I had remained a mute spectator throughout the programme as the problems discussed were irrelevant to me, I had listened to every problem that was discussed and analyzed the solutions given by the Consultant.  When a participant, complained about harassment from the society in general and her in-laws in particular about her being childless for several years of her marriage, the Consultant was very empathizing.  He consoled her by stating that, Indians are very conservative and cannot accept the fact that a couple can lead a happy life without procreating and that she has to learn to live happily with her husband, forgetting about what the society and her in-laws say about her condition.  He also told the audience that he was childless, but still leading a happy life.  This was a clear case of subjective thinking.  Taking a clue from this, I argued with my friends.  I told them that the consultant had married at the appropriate time and hence, he didn’t have the experience of being single, but he has managed without children, so he was confident that people can lead life without children.  I told them that solitude was beyond the Consultant’s imagination. They were speechless. 

THE JOY OF GIVING

My most favourite mythological character is Karna.  I don’t know whether it is the screenplay of the Tamil film “Karnan” or a story I read as a young girl that influenced me.  The story goes like this;

A rich man, who is also a connoisseur of art, organizes a Harikatha (a composite art form comprising story telling, poetry, music, dance and philosophy) before an invited audience at his home.  Impressed with the performance, he decides to reward the performer and gets into his room, opens the safe and brings out some gold coins and places them in the tray with the Tamboolam (Betel leaves with areca nuts given to a guest traditionally). Within a few minutes, the host changes his mind and replaces the gold with silver and again silver with a few currency notes.  Observing this and understanding the wavering mind of the host, the performer narrates an episode from the life of Karna, extempore.

A poor Brahmin visits Karna’s palace, seeking alms.  At that time, Karna, who is known for his generosity and righteousness, is massaging his body with oil from a silver bowl.  On seeing the poor man, Karna offers the silver bowl in his left hand, spontaneously.  The Brahmin objects to this and requests Karna to use his right hand for donating, as using the left hand is considered inauspicious.  Karna justifies his stance by stating that the human mind is always wavering and while he changes the bowl to his right hand, there are chances of him changing his mind and refrain from gifting such a precious bowl to a stranger and that gifting/donating should always be spontaneous.

The host having understood the hidden meaning in the story narrated out of context and rewards the performer with gold, as planned originally.

Giving results in joy for both the parties concerned.  I thoroughly enjoy giving or rather sharing.  I was induced into this activity mainly by two persons; i) my neighbour’s father and ii) my father’s friend’s wife.

My neighbour’s father “Tatagaru” (Grandpa) as we all addressed him was a farmer, who shifted from his native village in coastal Andhra to Madras with his only son, who was into publishing and film production.  The son established his office in the first floor of his residence.  Those were the pre-computer days and all manuscripts were written by hand and composing was done manually and there was a significant wastage of stationery in both the publication and film production departments. Tatagaru visited the office every evening after office hours and salvaged one sided papers, small pencils, pens, refills etc from the bins.  He sorted out the one sided papers and made note pads with them.  He sharpened the pencils, changed nibs or caps for ink pens and took all these and waited outside the gate of a nearby public school.  The students, most of them from lower middle class gathered around him to collect the scrap note pads, used pencils and pens from Tatagaru.  Tatagaru also filled his pockets with toffees, candies and pepper mints every time he stepped out of the house and was chased by young children on the road with raised hands shouting “Tata Tata” expecting to receive the goodies and Tatagaru happily gave it to them.  I saw the “joy of giving” in his eyes.

The other person who inspired me is my father’s friend’s wife.  She never sent any visitor to her home empty handed.  When I went with my father to their house as a small girl, she gifted me a few hair clips and a pack of kerchiefs, which I preserved for a long time.  I enjoyed receiving them from her and I decided I would spread the joy I experienced, to the people around me.

I love to see the sparkle in the eyes of people while they receive gifts from me.

Though I have never discussed “Karna” with my parents, they are worried that, I would emulate him.  My parents, particularly my mother doesn’t approve my spending on gifts.  She feels that, I am suffering from some compulsive disorder and just the way Lord Indra and Lord Krishna took away the Kavacha Kundalas (Body armour) and the Punya Phalam (fruit of good deeds) in disguise and tricked Karna into losing the battle with Pandavas, I would be exploited and that I should be adequately protected. 

Her fears are based on a preconceived notion and are not correct.  In fact, I receive more gifts than I give, many times more valuable.  Gifting is contagious and I have initiated many into it.  In the past few years, I have not purchased any clothes for myself.  I didn’t feel the need, as I have received several as gifts.

When we gift, we need to keep in mind, the sentiment and dignity of the person receiving the gift.  One should ensure that the person receiving should not be made to feel small or hurt by our gesture.  One should also not discuss the details or boast about the gifts with others or as a matter of fact, speak about it to the recipient of the gift.  An aunt of mine had once gifted an alarm clock to another aunt and for several years, every time they met, the aunt who gifted the clock enquired about the working condition and its utility, forcing my other aunt to take an oath never again to accept gifts.

Whenever my mother advices me to stop gifting without an occasion, I tell her that there is only one occasion when one can neither give nor take i.e., when one leaves this world.  All of us leave this world empty handed.  All exchanges have to take place before that.  I sympathize with the tightfisted persons, as I feel they are missing the joy of giving.

I always pray that I have enough to share with my loved ones.

Bless me!