Memories

We have been having a series of discussions at home between me, my wife and sons regarding what I can remember and recount of my memories of my childhood and college life; life in Bangalore during the 70's and other associated things. Yesterday evening my wife while reading the book "Idols" by Sunil Gavaskar asked me if I remember my day at Chepauk in 1975 on Pongal day when G R Viswanath scored that memorable 97* against the mighty West Indies.

Well, it is difficult to acknowledge but the fact is that my memories are limited to only a few events in a particular chain of events. Like if one were to ask me to recount what my memories were of the day when India famously declared war on East Pakistan and the about two weeks' of battle in the Eastern and Western fronts, I would hesitate to say that my memories are of a few random events viz the blackouts and we affixing black paper on windows, the occasional jeep with siren warning us to switch off all lights, the news broadcast over radio that was played over the school playground, and the motorcade near our school welcoming the Army General, Lt. Gen Aurora! Barring that, other memories are probably residing in some dark niche.

The 1975 historic innings of GRV is again of a few random "scenes" and not a sequence of events like a movie. No. And I feel sorry for myself that I am unable to remember various events in my early life. I remember vividly the resounding applause whenever Bedi and later Chandrasekhar stoutly defended a ball or two from the WI pacers thereby giving a few additional deliveries to GRV to score runs. It was a memorable day for me to watch a test match for the very first time courtesy my relative who gifted me the day's pass to watch the match. However, I couldn't remember each and every incident from the day. How sad!

There have been other memorable days in my life - other than the two I have mentioned above. But again, those are only a few random incidents; nothing of any substantive value. Well, the upside here is that my brain is free of any clogs and can keep accumulating more such random memories throughout my lifetime rather than remembering terrabytes of information of a random or memorable day!

Most famous victory

07-Jan-2018: India beats Australia in the Test series down under 2-1 with the fourth test at Sydney washed out. Unprecedented victory by Virat Kohli and his team-mates.

I heard press reports and saw a couple of videos of press interviews of Kohli and Ravi Shastri, the team coach, on the victory and not only they, but also most of the ex-cricketers and commentators mention that this victory is the greatest by any Indian team in history.

While I commend the team and the support staff for this famous victory and for the way the team dominated in all the tests - except for Perth where the Australian bowlers gave back what their batsmen received in the other test matches.

My mind goes back to 1971 - India in West Indies and India in England. Both West Indies and England were superior teams in relative terms than the Indian team then.

My mind goes back to 1983 - Cricket World Cup in England. Australia, West Indies, and England were far superior to the Indian side then.

So which series victory was superior in the history of Indian cricket?

We are the number one test team in the world now - as per ICC rankings. So we are expected to win. India in 1971 and 1983 were nowhere near the pinnacle of test rankings or ODI rankings (though there were no rankings then). India wasn't expected to win those series, but win they did.

So which team performed better? You decide. 

Reflection

Last night, no today early morning, I dreamt. Now that is nothing to be surprised about. Dreams are a recurring feature in my daily sleep routine. There are many days when I do not recollect what I dreamt about. Probably those days are when I wake up after a sleep and do not go back to sleep. Today morning, I decided to sleep on even after the alarm went off. The sleep later was not a deep sleep; maybe that is the reason why my dreams were vivid even after I got up from the bed.

The dream was a sequence, but what I remember is the portion just before I woke up. The scene goes like this....

I was at an office, seemed to be like a branch of a public sector bank. There was a small crowd outside milling around with a few security guards too (uniform worn by them makes me think that they were security guards). I handed over my jacket to one of the persons presuming that he would hang it at the peg in the doorway. However, I was surprised to see him wear my jacket. I got upset. The guard seemed to be an oldish looking man. I started shouting at him  as to why he wore my jacket and doesn't he know manners, etc.

The guy though did seem apologetic though he didn't apologise. That upset me more and I demanded an apology from him. This attracted the crowd towards the scene of the verbal assault that I was heaping upon the poor soul. By now some employee from the bank too came along and wanted to know what the commotion was all about. I explained in an irritated tone that the guard wore my jacket when he was not supposed to do so. The employee apologised on behalf of the guard and intending to reprimand the guards started looking around for him, but by then the guard had slunk away.

Now the incident ended there - that is, I woke up from my dream induced sleep. I thought about my behaviour. Am I like that in actual practice? Do I get upset at poor old souls when they make an innocent and genuine mistake? Why should I get upset if someone wears my jacket? Is my jacket more important to me than the fleeting happiness that it would have given the guard? Such thoughts assailed me for the better part of the morning.

I should watch myself.

Childish prattle and household dictionary

Year: Early 1990's
Place: Our home in Thiruvanmiyur, Chennai

A smartphone has a personal dictionary. One can add certain words with their unique spelling to the personal dictionary. Well, what is a personal dictionary? It is a word that has no listing in any dictionary anywhere and hence does not pop out to help us with its spelling, if at all we were confused.

Many apps may have one now; my knowledge of apps and other new technology is limited as my sons would attest now.

I have some personal anecdotes here to relate - the personal dictionary that comes about in any family whenever there are little kids around. These kids, in their childish prattle, invent words that don't exist anywhere and before long these words enter into the family vocabulary.

Whenever there was power cut, my elder son, then about 2 years old, would jump and run about in the house and move towards the main fuse box and on seeing a lamp not glowing (indicating that there was a power outage), he would jump up and down and with wide eyes exclaim, "Tiltan, tiltan". Probably his tiny brain joined the two words that we used to utter "current cut" and made it into one word. We don't know; and the beauty is neither does he remember how that word came to be used! Now of course, whenever there is a power outage, we just say "Tiltan". A word had been added to our household dictionary. Similarly, there are many words which have been added to our personal household dictionary which you won't find anywhere else!

Sample these:-

Baapu = milk
Babbai = bread
Bikki = biscuit
Aggam = water (how did this come about?)
Aggi-baggi = bathing (now this is another mystery)
Mammum = food (again a mystery as to its source)

These are the ones that I can recall immediately and that has entered our family vocabulary since. I suspect though that my wife may be responsible for adding a few! Of course, nowadays the use of these words is only when we have to play-act or tease someone.

I am sure, though, that my children would introduce it into their family when they have one of their own. Maybe some new ones will spring up that their kids introduce! Who knows....I am waiting to hear the childish prattle though.

Kids, are you listening??

Puraney dost; nayi dosti

December 2014

The blog has two unique things, which other blogs didn't have. One of course is the title (in Hindi) and the second is the blog is dated. Both with a purpose...as readers will know as they read on.

I left school in 1974. Schooling in Ranchi since my father was employed by SAIL in Ranchi and as he was about to retire within two years of my completing school, as a family a decision was taken to put me in college in Chennai. That's how I landed in South India for my higher studies. B.Sc in Chennai, BE in Bangalore and later PG in Chennai. Work postings were also predominantly in South but for brief periods in Delhi. So I imbibed a lot of knowledge of customs and traditions of Tamils while in South India - something which didn't happen during my school days.

As is the norm, unless the friends go to the same college, they drift apart, pick up new friends and at work colleagues who are bound by working for the same organisation and can discuss many things in common.

I had for the last forty years since leaving school back in June 1974 maintained continuous contact with two classmates - SP and Panda. Both in different organisation than mine. SP as an HR professional in a PSU and Panda a Medical specialist in Air Force. But one thing that bound us together irrespective of our profession and education was our schooling and the many hours spent together playing or chatting or just whiling away time.

Over the last few years though we happened to connect with a few other classmates - Lalit, Santosh, Amitava, and Rajnish. All different backgrounds and organisations they work for; most having lost all the childhood mannerisms and quirks that I remember of them. A few turned serious!

As recently as September of this year I touched base with another classmate and a neighbour in the township where I lived. Rajinder now lives in US and remains as bubbly as I remembered him from his school days. He insisted that we should connect in a better way than what we had been doing. The next logical step was a whatsapp group. Over the last three months since it was set up, we may have been exchanging about 100 messages a day (on average)! We are now 13 classmates who are connected through the media and what a group we have turned out to be. Guys in Shillong, Delhi, Kolkata, Ranchi, US, and Bhilai - united in a common purpose. BRINGING BACK OUR CHILDHOOD FUN! It has been fun throughout and looks like the 40 years have just melted away and we have never left our adoloscent years behind. Though some guys are serious and post messages which carry a moral lesson or a saying which touches our heart, others take away that seriousness by posting good jokes and lame ones too! Our motto for posting has always been, "Sab chalta hai" (except swear words!).

Our intention is to meet in October 2015 in Ranchi and get more friends into the group. That is what all are looking forward to now.

Me and Chennai @ 375 - 1

Chennai has been my 'home' for only about 20 years of my life. Having spent most of my childhood in Ranchi, I share a greater bond with that city where I grew up, attended school, made friends, roamed around on a bicycle, learnt how to drive a scooter, and did many things that a school-boy does. Chennai was my home in my adulthood, the city which defined me, which shaped me, where I married, where my children were born. Now Chennai is no longer the 'home' it was.

So what do I write about Chennai which is 375 this week? Not about the city - there are more learned persons who would do a better job  of writing a well-researched piece on its history. I plan to write about me and Chennai over the last 40 years. This may spawn a few instalments. And I start with my first brush with Chennai back in 1974.

I came to Chennai to join college. My "adventure" started immediately. From Ranchi (which was but a small town then) and moving alone to Chennai and living there was an adventure that I didn't much relish, but I had no choice in that matter. My parents and elder sisters advised me in no uncertain terms that if I decided to go for my graduation in Ranchi, my 3 or 5 year college may extend to 4 or 6 years at least - and not because I would fail one year. Exams were held there in those days at the whims and fancy of students who would decide to go on strike and postpone exams at the last minute. The dates of exams were always a moving target then.

Forms were procured from some reputed colleges of Chennai and filled up and sent.

CBSE declared their Std. XI results by mid-June and my parents thought that leaving for Chennai by the third week would be sufficient. So I landed in Chennai after a 2 day train journey and straight away went to my aunt's house in T'Nagar. Accompanied by an uncle and a cousin we went to the college of choice (where I had got the admission card). Met the Principal (a very strict Professor of Physics) who dismissed me straight away saying that I was late and my seat was no longer available. My first taste of 'demand-and-supply' started there. Demand for a seat in Science stream in a good college far outstripped supply. Pleadings by my uncle were to no avail. My marks-card was shown to prove that I was a good student. Um-hmm. Didn't cut any ice. We left the office in a despondent state and I was worried if I would have to lose one year in this process.

Then started a hunt. My aunt and uncle advised me to keep meeting various professors and the Principals of different colleges and keep requesting them for a seat. I was keen on Mathematics, but at that time a seat in any branch would have been welcome. Ten days of hunting for a seat in Madras Christian College, Presidency College, Vivekananda College, and Loyola College among a few more proved futile. All admissions were closed.

Then my uncle took matters into his own hands. He approached a member of the community that managed the college of my first choice and took me to his office in Parry's. We went inside and I was asked to touch the elder man's feet, which I proceeded to do. Explaining my predicament, my uncle got a letter of recommendation from the gentleman and took me immediately to the same Principal who had earlier refused me a seat saying "a lapsed card is a lapsed card". A seat in B.Sc. (Maths) was not available; would I be willing to accept a seat in B.Sc. (Physics)? Before I could answer either in the affirmative or in the negative (which my uncle may have thought I may say), my uncle said that would be fine. The Principal then said that hostel was full and I would have to make my own arrangement for stay. My uncle immediately said that I would be staying with them so accommodation was not an issue. We came out of the office clutching the prized possession of an admission!

I roamed the streets of Chennai in June of 1974 hunting for a college seat. I don't remember the sweat and the hustle and bustle of the mega city. I  don't remember the routes I took, or the first suburban train ride of mine. I don't remember the many restaurants that I went to to have coffee or tiffin. I don't remember the people whom I met. All happened in a blur and the only thing I remember is the constant travel from one place to another in the amazing city buses and the end result of my struggle - a college seat.

Oh Kolkata, Ah Kolkata!

Just returned after a three day visit to Kolkata to attend a wedding. This is not about the wedding, per se, though that would make an interesting blog; instead it is about the city.

Day 1:
We travelled from Ranchi and landed in the morning. This group was made of 5 people - two sisters of mine and their husbands. The plan was to stay in the house of one friend of my brother in law for a day (who lives in Barrackpore - a northern suburb of Kolkata) and then move over to Salt Lake area to the wedding venue - a hotel.

We were told that the taxi fare from Howrah station to Barrackpore would be Rs. 350; however, when we reached the pre-paid taxi queue, we found a lot of people queueing up. There was no way we could hope to get a taxi within one hour was my guess. A guy came up to my brother-in-law and offered a Tata Sumo for hire to Barrackpore for Rs. 1500. Now that amount was fairly high for the price that was initially told to us. After a bit of haggling, calling up the friend at Barrackpore (who advised us to settle for Rs. 900), we got into the rickety Sumo and braced ourselves for the journey. But Barrackpore was not willing to come within reach for close to an hour and a half, rides through some narrow streets, some busy thoroughfares, a trunk road, and then again some narrow streets through which I would find it difficult to manoeuvre even a car, but through which the Sumo driver managed to overtake a rickshaw, move past a parked car, avoid bicycles and pedestrians without as much as grazing anyone. Remarkable!

Day 2:

Two taxis were engaged for the nine of us back to the wedding hall. Four more had joined us the previous day from Bangalore. Again a long drive into Kolkata in the morning rush hour saw the same process of vehicle/person avoidance manoeuvres by the taxi driver. 

Honking is a system to tell all and sundry (including the seated passengers) that I am driving on the road and brook no interference in my path. I have never heard so many car horns in  my lifetime as I did in my two days stay in Kolkata. Why do all drivers honk so  much? I happened to choose the wrong driver to ask this question though. He retorted, "Have you heard me honk even once today?" I said, "Maybe once!" Then he said that Kolkata police do nothing to guys who run over anyone or meet with an accident. The guys just move on. Anyway, I do not know if that is true or not; but the way the people drive on the roads gave me an impression that brakes are for applying only when absolutely necessary and as a last resort - when honking has no effect on the "obstacle" in front.

While on our way to the airport from Salt Lake area, we passed through what is called "New Town". A spanking new city is being built beyond Salt Lake area, which has wide roads, huge residential towers, footpaths, and the works. This part of the city doesn't look like Kolkata of Kalighat or Barrackpore! 

I was told by many people whom we asked that Kolkata taxi drivers don't cheat (take you through a long route on purpose) and I found that to be true. Never felt cheated while moving around there. Most of the drivers that I met were from either Bihar or Eastern UP. Is there a clique? Or do Bengalis feel it is below their dignity to drive a taxi?