SOLITARY PERFORMERS

A few weeks back I visited an Ayyappa temple to pay fee for a special Pooja on behalf of a colleague, who was away from Chennai.  As I waited for my turn in the queue at the counter, I noticed that the temple was bustling with activity.  There were more visitors, as it was the annual Sabarimala pilgrimage season.

December-January is literally the music season in Chennai, the cultural capital of India.  Every Sabha (Society) big and small and temples take pride in organizing Kutcheris (music and dance concerts) during this period and artistes – established and budding, long to perform during this season.  Music lovers from all over the world storm Chennai during these months and enjoy hopping from one Sabha to another, attending concerts.  It is also a peak business period for all associated industries.  While some halls are jam-packed with audience, many are not. 

The Sabarimala pilgrimage season coincides with the Chennai music season and hence a Kutcheri was arranged in the Ayyappa temple in reference.  A stage was setup near the sales counter and carpets spread on the floor for the audience.  On that day, an elderly person was singing on the stage.  He had no accompanists – not even a Tanpura player.  Though not an accomplished artiste, he sang very well.  He was very focused, confident and apparently enjoyed.  Though there were a few hundred people inside the temple, sadly nobody seemed to be interested in his performance.  An old fashioned lady was the only audience.  May be she is his partner.  She held a small basket with a flask and a bottle of water.  She too was disinterested in the performance and gazed at the queue and the other activities taking place in the temple.  I felt very sad for the artiste performing on the stage.  I wondered, what motivates such people to perform with great involvement in the absence of recognition, acknowledgement, appreciation or rewards.

We recently received the following message from our Chief Executive about “Excellence”. 

A German once visited a temple under construction in India where he saw a sculptor making an idol of God. Suddenly he noticed a similar idol lying nearby. Surprised, he asked the sculptor, "Do you need two statues of the same idol?" "No" said the sculptor without looking up, "We need only one, but the first one got damaged at the last stage." The gentleman examined the idol and found no apparent damage. "Where is the damage?" he asked. "There is a scratch on the nose of the idol." said the sculptor, still busy with his work. The German asked "Where are you going to install the idol?"

The sculptor replied that it would be installed on a pillar twenty feet high. "If the idol is that far, who is going to know that there is a scratch on the nose?" the gentleman asked. The sculptor stopped his work, looked up at the gentleman, smiled and said; two people know it, "Myself and GOD."

The desire to perfection & excel is exclusive of the fact whether someone else appreciates it or not.

"Excellence" is a drive from inside, not outside.

Excellence is not for someone else to notice but for your own satisfaction and efficiency.

The message was not just motivating, but also was an answer to my doubt about what motivates those who excel.  Not just the artistes, but many persons including newspaper boys, milkmen, servant maids, postmen, sweepers, cleaners, teachers, nurses, doctors, engineers, scientists, traffic policemen, pilots, drivers and many others are solitary performers in their own ways and are self-driven, who even in the absence of appreciation or recognition perform their job so well, which results in the smooth functioning of this world.  Can we imagine a world without them?

Message from MSK – a tribute

“NEVER CLOSE A DOOR WITH A BANG, YOU WOULD NEVER KNOW WHEN YOU HAVE TO REOPEN IT” – were the words written on the door of MSK’s office, I was told by my seniors, when I started working.

Sri M.S.Krishnamurthy or MSK, as he was fondly called was the founder-director of Citadel Fine Pharmaceuticals, with which I was associated for more than a decade.  By the time I had started working MSK had retired and visited our office occasionally.  Though he was not involved in the day-to-day operations, he monitored funds flow and primary sales regularly.  He took my help in compilation of data and typing reports.  Unlike his contemporaries, he was tech-savvy.  Every time he visited, he learnt something new or taught us something new.   

Sometimes, he also sought my help in typing his personal letters.  On such occasions, he brought the necessary stationery including letterheads, envelopes, postage stamps and acknowledgement cards etc. If I had to send the letters by courier service, he immediately paid cash for the service.  Though he was one of the Directors, he never allowed office stationery to be used for his personal work.  He always checked if I had any other important work before assigning work. He wrote the letters in longhand on rough sheets and insisted that I read his script aloud to ensure that I understood the contents before I started typing.  The letters were always interesting.  They were mostly addressed to Bank Managers for wrong credits/debits, to Companies for non-receipt of dividend warrants, to Corporation Officials for bad maintenance of roads, to electricity department for power fluctuations, to consumer forums complaining about guarantees and warrantees etc.    From him I have learnt, of many things, handling personal finance meticulously. 

A thorough gentleman and an epitome of simplicity, he spoke only when required. He once asked me, if I own a pet and gave a photocopy of a newspaper clipping and requested that I share it with my friends.  I didn’t have friends with whom I could share it and so kept it in my drawer and it remained there for several years.  This newspaper clipping was one of the few things I carried with me, when I left the organization subsequent to an external reconstruction. 

A connoisseur of arts, animal activist, botanical enthusiast, a man with great scientific temper and a successful businessman - MSK passed away in his sleep on the early hours of 6^th January 2012, after living 88 years of principled, disciplined and contended life.

As a tribute, I am sharing the contents from the newspaper clipping he requested me to share with my friends:

New Haven Register, Saturday, July 13, 1996 Page C9

ANN LANDERS’ COLUMN

Question:  Dear Ann Landers:  I am enclosing a poem for all those people who drop their dogs and cats off in the country, hoping they will find another home.  These people should know there are alternatives to abandoning a pet, Maybe this poem will make a difference – Lorna, a Stars and Stripes Reader

Dear Lorna, Thank you on behalf of all pet owners.  I agree that it is not only thoughtless, but cruel to drop a pet off on the highway, hoping someone will pick it up.  Your contribution is sure to make a difference.

A Dog Sits Waiting by Kathy Flood

A dog sits waiting in the cold autumn sun

Too faithful to leave, too frightened to run

He’s been here for days now with noting to do

But sit by the road, waiting for you

He can’t understand why you left him that day

He thought you and he were stopping to play

He’s sure you’ll come back and that’s why he stays

How long will he suffer?  How many more days?

His legs have grown weak; his throat’s parched and dry

He’s sick now from hunger and falls, with a sigh

He lays down his head and closes his eyes

I wish you could see how a waiting dog dies

Please share this poem with your friends as a mark of respect to the departed soul!

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.