Venu Lane - The festival of lights

The heart used to thump aloud even as our bus entered the bus stand. From within the bus, I would try to spot mama waiting to receive us. And when we got down from the bus, sister and I would unsuccessfully try hugging him with our little arms. During the long walk to home, mom would ask him if the others had arrived - calling out the names of their brothers and sisters...and we would eagerly listen to his answers. Like any kid, we had our favorites and we were eager to know if they were visiting too. Plus, there was always the undeclared competition as to who arrived first.

The otherwise badly lit streets would pose a romantic appearance with numerous little lamps placed in the porch, steps and parapets - adding to them, the brightly lit faces of the residents. Each street had a couple of relatives or friends who would greet mom as we walked past their homes. Occassionally, we would be stopped by the warning-cries of the kids who had just lit a cracker, sangu-chakram or bushvaanam. Some kids would yell late and the crackers would burst right under our march. Sister and I would stick to the protective heels of mama holding his legs tightly.

When we reached Venu Lane, we would find grandpa anxiously walking between the entrance of the house and the entrance of the street to see if we were arriving, as if we would lose our way if he were not at the street corner to receive us. The hundred meter sprint would start as soon as we reached the street corner. We would run past the neighboring houses. It used to be fun running past uncles, aunts, cousins and stop only at the kitchen - for, it was the most opportune moment to prove to the world that we were the most favorite grandchildren of grandma. When we walked out of the kitchen, we would have a plate full of kachayam, rava laddu, adhirasham, murukku and laddu all of them filled with the expertise of grandma and aunts.

Then it was boasting time with cousins about "first rank", "class leader", "first prize", "new cycle", "new TV", "Rajini movie" etc. As the clock neared 9pm, all the kids would start "the wait" for "chithappa". He was the one who financed our crackers every Deepavali, but he typically arrived late after closing business for the day. During "the wait", everyone would make their demand to me  -  because, I was the one always chosen by chithappa to accompany him to the cracker shop. The big cousins would want saravedi, atom bombs and onion bombs. The slightly younger ones would want lakshmi vedi, kurivi vedi, double shot and seven shot. While, saattai, maththaappu, sangu-sakkaram, bushvanam would be recommended for the younger ones. Used to sleeping by 8pm on school days, I would find it hard to keep my eye-lids open until chithappa arrived. But all the sleep would vanish the moment he beeped the horns of his bike.

At the cracker shop, the shop-keepers would recommend all the new arrivals...though tempted to buy them, I would stick to the demand list given to me, recalling who wanted what. When I was done calling out my list, chithappa would add some of his childhood favorites like bijili vedi, snake pills, cartoon creepers and the forbidden ones - that is, rockets -  the ones that my big cousins wanted but would not ask for - fearing the wrath of the elders in the family. Back home, someone would take the cracker box and put it securely on the loft. I would ask mama to check if the box had maththaappu, then I would ask him how many packets of saattai were there, then I would say we missed bushvaanam. Understanding my intention, a pack of maththaappu would be given for immediate entertainment.

In the meanwhile another young group would have opened the mehandi desk, trying out designs from simple initials to Eiffel tower to complex geometry in the palms and feet. Kids running behind the elders to have their backs rendered the luxurious service of 'itching' which would have been made difficult by the mehandi decors.

Then would start the big fight to find a place for everyone to sleep. I would demand a place next to grandma or grandpa and also next to my favorite cousin. All the pranks for only a few minutes as I would have already crossed my stay-awake-threshold. On the morning of Deepavali, (read "3am"), the house would be in a busy mode. Some would have already gotten ready, some would be drenched in oil waiting to take bath and some would already be taking bath. Among the kids, there would be this big race to take bath first - for - the one to take bath first had the privilege to light the first firework. But that involved an opportunity cost - kids were given oil bath by one among the aunts or grandma who took turns. I used to be scared of being given bath by big aunt - for - she did a thorough job - clutching the hairs as if one would become bald after the bath. During the course of the bath she would declare that she was going to wash off all the melanin. So, I preferred waiting for grandma's turn and sometimes pulled her out of kitchen to take up the all important job of bathing me first.

After a short innings with the light-weight crackers, it would be time to wait for grandpa to give us our new dresses. Then it would be time to go around the street flaunting our new dresses. After this ramp-walk, it would be time to watch the big kids perform their challenging act of bursting the heavy-weight crackers. When no one was watching, they would secretly bring a bottle(the launch pad) and start launching the rockets. Some rockets used to take diversion and traverse through neighboring houses and some used to land on nearby roofs. By this time, someone among the elders would have sensed the mischief and come out to ban further launches. The big kids would be condemned for violating the ballistic missile treaty and chithappa would be blamed for funding the rockets. The missile launches having been banned, it would then be time for the atom and onion bombs. Grandma would shout at us saying that one of these bombs would collapse the house. She did this every Deepavali. But the house stayed intact everytime.

Amidst the state of chaos, breakfast, tea-time and lunch would happen as scheduled. It is difficult to imagine how the elders in the family kept track of who had taken breakfast/lunch and who was yet to take food. Someone or other ensured that the kids were fed. It used to be gala time through out the day with no restriction on what to eat and where to go. At the fall of night, grandma would ask all of us to gather and perform the "drishti" ritual fearing that someone would have jinxed our togetherness.

The time to start packing would eventually arrive. One by one, uncles, aunts and cousins would start leaving. Those were the saddest moments at that young age. The next vacation would seem far far away. We would exchange parting gifts from our exclusive collectibles like chocolate wrapper, colour buttons, 2paise coin, spiderman sticker, etc. The next working day, we would be in a different world dressed up in school uniform and worrying about homeworks and recounting the Deepavali celebration to our friends in school. The only solace used to be that Kaarthikai deepam would give an opportunity to relive those moments in a miniature.

pictures courtesy: 
http://www.pathikbhatt.com/2011/india-diwali-satellite-image-real-or-fake/
http://www.apollolife.com/HealthyLiving/EnvironmentalHealthGreenLiving/LightUpAnEcoFriendlyDiwali.aspx

An evolving memoir

"There is a disadvantage with being punctual, especially, when you are an exception in a group that loathes timeliness. Thankfully, our meeting point this time was a bookshop. I could remain engrossed in the infinite number of pages, until my friends showed up. I picked a book titled "The proximity of love". I gave it a quick glance and kept it back. I wondered how many bad books had good titles. I heard a voice from behind that said - "Have you ever wondered that there might be good books, that unfortunately, had bad titles? They go unnoticed".

I stopped reading at this point. I kept the notebook with me and gave a new one to Reva.

"Nice beginning Rev, why don't you write something about Dora?"

"Dora and Boots?"

"Yeah...Dora, Boots, Isa, Swiper..."

Reva went back into her room dancing all the way. Obvioulsy, she was elated at having written her first story. But...I sat there shocked. It didn't take me long to grow restless. I texted Navi to return from gym as soon as possible.

When Navi returned, Reva had already slept. I showed the story to Navi. He read a few lines and said, "Hey, this is our story. Are you into story-writing now? Isn't this Rev's hand-writing?"

"I am not writing any story...this was written by Rev herself."

"Really?"

He seemed proud and said, "But, you seem to be very unhappy about it?"

"Well, I am surprised that you aren't surprised. I was shocked when I read it."

"...because, our 5 year old has got an IQ that is beyond her age?"

"No! I know...I mean, we sort of expected that...but how did she know about our first meeting?"

"I thought, you might have told her."

"Are you kidding?"

He took the notebook and read a few more lines again. "Are you sure this is our story? It kind of sounds like anyone's story."

"And you think it is cool that a 5 year old writes on a subject like this?"

"Come on Nance...don't freak out."

"She has even used the exact same name for the book. It is as if she has written it directly from my memory."

He went through the two pages fully.

"Nance, did you notice this...the story is as if it is completely from your point of view. I mean, there is nothing about my side of life. There is no part in the story where I appear alone. It is either you or both of us together."

He looked serious for the first time. I grabbed the notebook and quickly went through it for the Nth time.

"Ok, so, you didn't tell her the story. Is it possible that she might have read it somewhere? May be you have written it down somewhere?"

"No."

"....."

"What do you think it means?"

"Could it mean that clones inherit memory as well? I know, I am not talking like a scientist,...but, probably she has inherited your memory."

"How is that possible?"

"You know...there are known unknowns and there are unknown unknowns!!"

"...."

"Why don't we call Rom?"

***********

We were at Dr.Rom's lab next morning. We waited for his reaction as he read the story.

"hmm...I am happy that she is turning out to be brilliant, as expected. But, I am as surprised as you are.", he said.

"Navi thinks she might have probably inherited my memory."

Rom smiled and said, "Well...he tried to sell that idea to me as well and I honestly like that theory. But, I am not able to think of a phenomenon to explain that."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"What do we do now Rom?"

"I think, there is nothing to be scared of. We expected such developments, well before we got started. Didn't we?"

"I am afraid that this could get dangerous."

"Not as long as we are watchful and continue to keep this as a secret. Don't get worked up. Let us wait for sometime before we decide anything."

"And then..."

"...if you really want me to tell you what I think..." he hesitated a moment and continued "...we may have to terminate the project."

"You mean.."

"Yes."

As we were about to leave, Rom said, "Guys, cool down and keep quiet."

***********

On our way back to home, my thoughts shuttled between the emotions of a mother and the resolve of a scientist. I hoped that there won't be any more surprises.

When we reached home, Reva ran to me and showed her next story. The beginning lines were:

"We were at Dr.Rom's lab next morning."

I showed it to Navi and said, "I think it is more than just memory inheritance".

*********** 

The 49th post

Dear friends and followers, there are totally 54 posts in this blog now. 3 of them written by my friend Suresh (aka Subi), and 2 posts that have no real content. So, practically this is my 49th post. 49 posts in about 3 years is not a big achievement at all, but it is a good point to look back and analyze a bit.

(You can click on the images below to see them better).

Subject range and stats

In these 49 posts, I have attempted travelogues, humor, suspense, romance, poems, eco-gyan, movie reviews, personal musings and even history based fiction. Some of these posts received wide attention and a few of them did not gain any attention at all.

Though I have tried to balance between Thamizh and English, number-wise, there are more posts in English. For a good number of my readers Thamizh was not the second language in school and so they have trouble reading Thamizh. I had to retain their readership!! Plus, my humor is contrived - except in a couple of posts that I wrote immediately after reading "Three men in a boat". The contrived humor works out better in English (Of course, you may argue that it doesn't work out anyways).

I have not ventured into any social issues and 'should-be-discussing' topics. That would require assessing all sides of such issues and being able to come to a conclusion. I should be able to do it, when I have made myself knowledgeable enough.

The popular ones

"Kaadhalagikk kasindhurugi" has received the maximum number of page views. I myself have read it many times. Even if my own page views are subtracted, I think it would still top the list.


Going by the number of comments (after subtracting my own comments), the top 3 are:

Busy for nothing (13 comments) - Some of these were greetings and not comments on the post.

Love and my first blabbering post (13 comments) - This was my first major success.

Kaadhalgikk kasindhuriugi (11 comments)

My picks

I have a special liking for the 3 posts below. They have unearthed old memories for some of the readers and helped them relive those cherished moments:

The one on dad's retirement

Yeh tumhari meri baathein

Venu Lane - Biodiversity hot spot

Traffic inflow and stats

I don't consider myself a good writer (not after reading posts by Seralathan (serious writing) and Jaya Madhavan (humor)). Further, I write mostly about what I have been through, what I think, what I want to be. When there is so much of "I", my writing may be of interest only to my close friends. So, I have some hesitation in publicizing my blog.

To begin with, most of my readers were my close friends, then it extended to a few co-workers. Only a very few followers are strangers to me. Thus, my readers circle is very small. A small number of people have dropped in, to read just one or two posts.

Some friends have helped to extend the readership by forwarding links through mails and facebook. I was surprised to see traffic flowing in from countries like Russia and Ukraine where I have no friends (unless Veerabahu was ever posted there for one or more of his frequent foreign assignments).

I have some traffic flowing in through Seralathan's books review blog. That may be natural because, some people who know him are likely to have known me as well. But, I was surprised to see traffic flowing in via talesofthewanderlust (Madan) and some-sensible-nonsenses (Divya). I should thank Seral, Madan and Divya for extending the readership of my blog by listing it in the list of blogs they follow.

Some traffic comes in accidentally too. Have a look at some of the key words that lead people to my blog:

Visitors trend:

I used to receive comments from many friends. Marriage and parenthood has made some of them busy (that is not a complaint :) ). It is a pleasant surprise when some of them comment after a big gap, that gives me assurance that they still visit my blog.

Anyways, not all of my readers leave comments in the blog itself. For various reasons, some friends talk to me over phone, some of them mail their comments and some give feedback when they meet me. Some of them share their own experiences and memoirs with me. Interestingly, there are some good writers among them, but they do not maintain a blog or are inconsistent. I have tried encouraging them to write as that is one way to get better - that and reading more.

I have also got a few good critics who pat me when I write well, tell me when I could have done better and advise me even on the font size.

Looking at the stats, the page views seem to be picking up in 2012.

Overall, I am pleased with how it's going. A couple of friends have suggested that my writing is going to the next level. That is definitely encouraging. Thanks for the continuing support folks. I love you all.

The break

The reason for this 'looking back' analysis even before reaching the 50th post is because I plan to take a mini-break giving myself some time to prepare for the exams (2oth May). Because, once I plan to write on something, it begins to occupy a corner in the mind and creates restlessness. Sometimes, many pieces run at the back of the mind at the same time. That is an unwanted luxury with exams around.

A compelling reason may arise pushing me to change my mind in a hurry and break the break as well. The 50st post might not be far away. Hopefully, Sachin would have scored his 100th hundred by then!

Venu Lane - The bio-diversity hotspot

My maternal grandparents' house, built with bricks was never coated with cement or paint on the outside. The rooms, except the hall, were roofed with terracotta tiles. Such an architecture inherently provided with lot of crevices, clefts and other 'thesaurus'eous openings. Perfect setting to house all verities of arthropodians. Arthropodians, aren't just another groups of 'podians', they do have intimidating features.

Along with the arthropods, there were other creatures: the 4-legged, the 8-legged and the 5-legged (a differently-abled cockroach who lost a leg in an encounter with grandma). There were also the multipedes, centipedes and even wikipedes ("Wiki" is a Hawaiian word meaning "fast" or "quick"). There were so many of them that we did not even have to install an antenna when the house got its first TV. There was no need when all those arthropods had at least two antennae each.

There was one room that wouldn't allow sunlight. The hall had an attic which served as a dump yard for old vessels, audio cassettes ("Parashakthi" kadhai vasanam and the likes), outdated medicines and "Soviet" magazine issues from the days of Stalin and Lenin. Also, anything that I wanted to hide from my little sister was thrown into the attic. It basically supported 9 families of rodents, 1 cat, its visitors and many colonies of termites among others. Occasionally, my uncle too.

There was a garden behind the house which was the abode of many creepy creepers - a water melon plant and snakes inclusive. Actually, 'garden' is a overstatement for what we had. Drumstick trees, few shrubs of shoe-flower, pumpkin creepers - were all that grandpa would classify. Rest were wild herbs and grass and he gave them different names on different occasions. The snakes were real though.

Considering that I spent most of my vacations as a kid at the said house, I had enough experiences to write an entire series of "Night of the scorpion and others Inc" unlike Nissim Ezekiel who stopped with just the one poem. Probably I would have started with 'The night of the angry ant':

I remember the night when I

was stung by an ant. One hour

of power-cut had driven him

to circle beneath the candle light.

More candles, one torch light,

more insects and the endless power-cut.

Yet to be enrolled in school

I had no homework nor sense.

Boredom caught me and I

tried to trap the ant

under a geometry box

(which was not mine).

Upon release, the angry ant

bit my little finger.

Tears down my eyes

and a red fluid down my finger

(for I was seeing blood

for the first time),

I turned and twisted in pain

singing 'why this kolaveri'.

My angry aunt killed

the angry ant and she

covered my finger with a cloth.

The bleeding stopped

and the pain subsided.

Did I stop crying?

No! Not until I was given a banana.

When the power was back

I saw the dead ant being carried

by its men while I

was still eating the banana.

It wasn't just about the nights anyway. In the mornings, we had a pack of monkeys visiting the locality at regular timings. If the monkeys crossed east-west, the time was 7am. If they crossed west-east, the time was 4pm. If they did not turn up - 'Ekathasi' celebration in local temple (which meant they did not have to visit our garden for food). One day, when my little sister was sleeping in the cradle and we were busy in the kitchen, a monkey had come into the house and was checking out the cradle. We had to shoo-shoo it, least my sister would have grown up to be the female version of Mowgli or 'Elizabeth of the jungle'. Only slightly different from how she grew up in my company.

Grandpa's house had a wide assortment of slippers though no one in the house wore them while in town. But at the mere sight of a mouse, each one would swing their favorite slipper. They rarely hit a mouse and only ended up hitting each other. The mice and myself had lot of fun.

While sleeping, grandma would spread the mats leaving a small margin between the wall and the mat. That margin was to be the undeclared wildlife corridor. The nocturnal insects would use it as a freeway without having to interfere with the sleep process of us, humans. But, occasionally we used to have man-insect encounter...like when a cockroach decided to take the road not taken and crawled over the over-bridge which was my arm. That was when, I used my well-trained shriek. Chorus by little sister. It was in this encounter that the above said cockroach became differently-abled due to grandma's angst. (In daylight, it would not have been handicapped...it would have been simply dead).

It wasn't just about fear and adventure though. There was the joy of capturing jewel beetles (பொன் வண்டு) in match boxes; feeding sparrows; following the squirrels; watching the garden lizard hoping it would change colors like a chameleon; feeding dead beetles to ants; planting mango seed; urinating on it hoping it would grow fast; even waiting for 4pm for the evening parade of the monkey pack.

Eventually we grew up, technology advanced and a sense of hygiene took over. The garden was relatively cleaned up, the trees were pruned. These days, the monkey population has migrated elsewhere, sparrows are not to be seen, squirrels are rare. The crevices and clefts are still there in lesser numbers. The fear of scorpions and centipedes is also still there, though I believe they have already departed us.

My nieces and nephews do not visit the house much and they don't believe my stories. What a pity!!

(post script: "Venu Lane" is the name of the street in which my maternal grandparents lived. I plan to write occasionally, based on my experiences from the days in Venu Lane).

(picture courtesy: http://www.ourhabitatgarden.org/creatures/insect-creatures.html)

Sans principle

image courtesy: http://www.gettyimages.in

I was in the railway station waiting for the train to arrive. There were others in the platform, waiting anxiously. To remain calm when there is just three minutes to the scheduled arrival time of the train, requires one of the following to be true - 1. You are into Zen 2. You are so used to Southern railways 3. You are plain lazy. In my case, it was a mix of the three in the reverse order - in descending percentages. I was looking at one of the railway employees as he went through his daily chores on the tracks. I lost sight of him after few minutes. There was no train yet. A strange feeling crept into my mind, that the train might have arrived in another platform while I was following the man in blue and that I might have missed the train. It was then that I became conscious of the stinking conditions. The smell gave me the assurance that I was in real life waiting in the right platform. If you have watched 'Inception', you would understand if I call it my "Totem".

The auto-voice in railway PA system kept requesting passengers' attention with the trademark 'diding diding' sound. In a fraction of seconds, the train made its grand entry. I looked for the name board and confirmed that it was the train I was to take. People were running hitherto tither to to occupy the seats already reserved for them. I nonchalantly waited for coach D6. When the train stopped, D6 was right in front of me. I looked for my name in the name chart. It was there. Still, I knew I would feel comfortable only after the TTE had checked my ticket. I stepped in.

I knew where to find seat 97. I found it, but a lady was already seated there. That did not surprise me anyways. People board reserved compartments with highly optimistic hopes that someone somewhere would miss the train and destiny in collusion with the TTE would gift them such seats. But my aggressor had to find luck elsewhere because, 'Catching the train on time' runs in my blood, except on occasions when I miss a train. I had to tell her that 97 was my seat. She must have understood, but still she asked me if I had a reservation. After I gave the 'Indian affirmative' - that is - shaking the head up and down, she rose and let me perch. All the seats in my vicinity were occupied. The lady must have shifted to another coach...I thought.

In a few moments the train had started moving. People were sill trying to figure their seats mostly because those with unreserved tickets were still continuing their 'Occupy Empty Seats' movement. After some negotiations and sub-reservations, the population settled down, leaving some of the 'unreserved' travelers "seat-less in Seat-tle". I wanted to avoid assessing the demography of the standing travelers and decided to quickly immerse into a book I had brought.

Even as I was totally into the book, going through the chapters, I was aware of the commotions of a usual train journey. The sharing of biscuits, ground nuts, magazines, political ideologies, tourism guidelines, mutual care-taking of the seat for the toilet-goers. I reluctantly looked up after sometime and instinctively started assessing the travelers. I could see about 12 people standing near the doors, the vestibules and the pathways - women in late forties and sixties, school going kids and physically weak men. There were others whom I could not see from where I was seated.

The gentleman sitting opposite to me - must have been around 60 years of age - got up and went in the direction of the toilet. All of a sudden, the aggressor lady was back and she took the seat. In a moment she fell asleep...or acted so. I wondered what the gentleman was going to do when he returned. Would he wake her up and claim his seat back? After waiting for about five minutes, I went back into the book. But, my brain started working on the ideology dilemma - yet again.

People know very well that, on a Saturday, a train between Coimbatore and Chennai was going to be full. They are well aware that they are likely to travel the entire journey standing. Still, they opt to take the train even without a reservation. They may or may not know that boarding a reserved coach is a punishable offence. Those who board in spite of knowing it, do so hoping that the TTE would be benevolent. I wonder if they ever consider that the TTE, in letting them travel, fails in the duty he is paid for.

Do the old men, women and the children choose the option out of choice or out of compulsion? Do they have jobs and functions to be attended that are more important than the pain of a standing journey. I wonder whether I should get up and offer them my seat. Should I impose the burden of their irrational action, upon me in spite of having spent many minutes planning the journey and paying the extra cost for reservation?

Then I think about their possible compelling situations. It may have been a last minute plan change, it may have been an emergency. Theirs, may be a choice between having to travel standing in the bus or travel standing in the train. The choice may be between the price of bus ticket and train ticket. Or, it could be a case of having missed the previous train.

While I was into the above thoughts, I noticed that the gentleman had returned and he was standing near the door. The lady woke up for a moment, saw that the gentleman was standing at the door. He was not looking at her. She took him for granted and went back to sleep. The sixty year old man, seemed to have decided to sacrifice a few minutes of his travel time for the seemingly tired 40 year old woman. This man, was much elder to me. He had a reserved ticket with him. So, I thought I would be right in offering him my seat. I made up my mind, got up and went to him and asked him to take my seat. He took it readily, which meant, he badly wanted to be seated, but still was being noble in not waking up the lady. May be he was reminded of his daughter.

Many times it is difficult to choose if one should act like an individualist or communist or realist or communitarian or idealist. It is simpler to go by instinct - sans principles.

Jingle all the way

Chapter 1

We were seated in the canteen - I and Sid.

I am Jiva - shortly 'Jiv' and 'Sid' in his fullness is S.I.Dinesh.

Sid was silent. It was unusual of him. I couldn't assume that he was focusing on eating, because he couldn't have developed a good habit like that in two days.

"You are unusually silent Sid....for the past two days"

"I am alright Jiv, may be I am tired because of the late night calls". He tried to smile.

"Oh...I see, the courting phase..huh? So, you guys getting to know each other?"

"I guess so".

I noticed the lack of interest in his answer.

"Sid...you look like you are haunted...you can tell me if you have a problem."

He looked up halfway through that sentence. He looked terrified.

"Is everything alright with Nisha?"

"Yeah...she's cool".

He was just looking at the food...now fiddling it with the spoon. "Jiv...shall we discuss after office hours?".

"Sure man...no problem".

Chapter 2

We were walking towards the parking area. I tried looked at his face. It appeared to me as if he was rehearsing his monologue. After a few more steps, I stopped near my bike. He continued walking towards his bike. I called out.

"Sid...do you want to talk now?"

"Sure..Jiv"

I folded my hands and looked at him as if to say that I was ready.

"Jiv..what I am going to tell you may sound crazy, funny..or whatever GRE word you want to use."

"..."

"Ok....I moved into a new house 2 months back - after my engagement". He looked at my eyes for the first time during that conversation. He had a 'you know about it' expression.

"Yes...". He had invited me a lot of times...but I never visited. "So, is he angry with me?" - I asked myself.

"For the past one month, every night around 12, I have been hearing the jingling sound...of anklets..."

I realized why he hesitated so much to talk to me. He must have thought that I would make fun of him.

"Something strange happened the last two nights....I generally switch off the TV before going to bed...in fact well before that. The TV somehow gets switched on during the night."

He shook his head and continued..."Look...it may sound very foolish. I have tried to think this out rationally...but I am scared...I am scared"

I was still looking at him. I was trying to make out if he was making up this story to hide something else.

"So...this is what is happening", he concluded.

Sid is someone who talks with common sense. We together have made fun of people who told us such stories. So, I decided to see it for myself.

"Ok...we go to my room now. Let me pick up some items and then we go to your room. I am staying there tonight. Alright?"

He seemed to get back a bit of his usual radiance.

"Thanks Jiv!!"

Chapter 3

After dinner, we reached his house. It was an independent one. There were a few more houses around. Only a few of them seemed occupied. The very next house was vacant.

"Most houses seem vacant.."

"Yeah...the area is just coming up"

"You think Nisha could manage alone here"

"These should be occupied in a month..that's what I hear. Let us get in"

We got in. Instinctively, I dropped myself in the couch in the hall.

"It will be good if at least the next house is occupied", I said with a yawn.

"It was occupied. There was fire accident one month back...electrical leakage. So, they have temporarily moved out"...he dropped himself in the couch opposite to me. As he sat, he said, "or may be permanently...I am not sure". He sounded discouraged.

I looked around the hall. I gazed at the TV and said..."that must be the haunted TV".

He nodded.

"Jiv...it's almost 10. Nisha is probably waiting for me online. Late already. I will use that bed room. You can take the other one. Blanket, pillow everything is inside. You can feel at home".

"Sid...what time do you sleep?"

"Around 12"...and with that he went inside.

I went closer to the TV. It was placed on a TV rack. There were some news papers in the space under it and a stand to hold mobile phone. I put my phone in it and switched on the charger.

I switched on the TV and sat back on the couch. The room had a nice jasmine aroma. I started scanning the book rack from where I was. There were a few ghost stories. I smiled to myself and thought he may have been reading too much of them. I got up and picked a non-fiction to read . Switched off the TV and came back to the couch.

Chapter 4

I woke up suddenly....and looked at the wall clock. It was 11.30pm. I had slept off on the couch itself. The night was so silent that I could hear the clock's arm moving second by second. There was no sound from the room where Sid was. I thought he must have slept. After a few sleepless nights, my presence should have given him some assurance, after all.

I thought of switching on the TV and the decided against it, lest, I might prevent the 'miracle' from happening. I tried to concentrate on the book again.

Around 11.55, I began to notice the jingling sound. It was feeble first..then I began to hear it better...and better. Seemed like someone wearing anklets was walking closer to the house. There was another sound accompanying it, which I could not clearly make out.

My heart started pounding. I looked at the TV expectantly...it remained silent.

I decided to open the door and reached it with quick steps. The sound stopped for a moment or two. I couldn't open the door though. Sid must have locked it. I was able to hear the jingling sound again. I ran to the window and tried to peek out. The sound started fading now. It seemed to be moving away from the next house which according to Sid had had a fire accident and no one lived now. I stopped hearing the sound in a few seconds.

I came back to the couch leaving the window open. I sat there expecting the sound to re-occur.

I tried to recall what happened. The sound was surely close to jingling of anklets. It sounded as if someone walked along the road outside. Could have been a human. Why did the sound stop when I opened the window? Why 11.55pm?

I switched on the TV, just to make sure it worked fine. I kind of expected it to show a scene from some ghost movie....but no, it didn't. I switched off the TV and laid down in the couch itself. My brain started running a slide show of all the horror movies I had watched. I got up, closed the window and came back to the couch. I tried hard to stop thinking of the ghost stories I had heard.

Chapter 5

When I woke up in the morning, it was 7.10. I looked at the TV...it was quiet. In place of my phone, Sid's phone was in the charger. He must have already woken up. I tried to decide whether to tell him about what happened the previous night.

"Good morning Jiv"

"Very good morning Sid. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, after a long time. You seem to have slept off in the couch. Did you sleep well?"

"I did. So any paranormal activity lat night?"

"No Jiv...did you hear anything?"

I had already decided the response.

"No Sid...I didn't hear anything. I guess the TV didnt wake up abruptly either."

"But Jiv, it really happened the last 2 nights. You won't believe me now."

"Let's see...I give you one more night".

He raised both his thumbs. He must have felt glad to have company.

Chapter 6

We reached his house a little early that evening. I stopped at the neighboring house.

"Sid...you keep moving..I will be there in a minute".

Sid who had already reached his gate by the time, stood there looking at me. There was no sign of anyone having been there. I started walking towards Sid's house.

"No one is trying to repair it?"

"Yeah..they do...on week ends", Sid said as he opened the door.

After refreshing, Sid started preparing dinner. I was in the hall, browsing in Sid's laptop. Sid's house had a modular kitchen overlooking the hall. So, we were able to talk even as he was busy in the kitchen.

"Sid, the sound that you said you heard, which direction was it from?"

He pointed to the direction in which I had heard it.

"You hear it from inside?"

"No, I usually sleep in the hall...it was only yesterday that I slept in the bed room."

"So...you chat with Nisha till around 12 and when you are about to sleep you hear the sound. Any idea what time the TV gets switched on?"

"Not sure, the day before yesterday, I was woken up by the sound from the TV at around 1.30"

"So, somewhere between 12 and 1.30?"

"Yes..."

Yahoo messenger suddenly popped up.

"Nisha_666: Hi Siddu da"

"Dude...your fiancee is pinging"

I carried the laptop and gave it to him.

He gave it a few feather touches and gave the laptop back to me.

"I have logged off"

"Sid...her ID is Nisha_666?"

"Yes Jiv...she was born on 6th June 1986." His face became terrified as he said that. May be he hadn't paid much attention to the "666" until I asked him about it. He came to the hall and stood near me.

"Jiv...I am confused now. Things have been going weird only after our engagement. The fire accident in the next house...the jingling sound, the TV getting on..everything"

"Sid...calm down. Sit!". He sat down...but did not appear to have calmed down.

"Sid...your engagement was 2 months back. The accident happened just 1 month back..right?"

"Yes, more or less"

"Ok...and the TV thing is happening only for the last two days?"

"Yes..." he looked at the TV rack saying that. "The mobile stand...I received it 3 days back. It was gifted by Nisha. Jiv, I am confused".

"Ok...Ok...wait...don't get crazy. Let me think".

"Have you switched off the stove? Do that first." That gave me a few seconds to steady myself.

"Ok...I want you to do as I say."

"..."

"See, nothing happened last night. So, don't panic. I am sorry..I shouldn't have asked you about Nisha. It was a mistake. Let us think rationally."

"No...you are right. May be nothing happened last night because she knew you were here".

"What the hell are you talking..ok...ok...give me a minute. Easy."

"Don't tell her that I am staying back tonight. But behave normal. Just go ahead with your chat tonight....and try to extend it till after 12"

It took some effort to calm him down. I prepared the dinner and had to eat it myself. He didn't take anything. He was trying to divert his mind by watching TV.

I spent some time browsing. Around 10, he went in to chat. I asked him to leave his cell phone with me.

I took the keys from him. Latched the hall door without locking it. I put his phone on charge in the mobile stand gifted by Nisha. I kept it back under the TV and switched off the TV. Left the window open.

Chapter 7

I could not concentrate on the book. I just sat there and waited for the two arms of the clock to come together. There was no sound till 12.05.

Then, I heard the sound approaching. I peeped out of the window. The sound was nearing the window. I could not control my anxiety and ran to the door and went out.

I saw a old man pedaling his cycle towards Sid's house. His cycle keys were making the jingling sound. I quickly checked if he had legs...and laughed at myself for being such a fool. The old man and I exchanged looks. He seemed to smile at me. He crossed Sid's gate and stopped at the neighboring house. As he switched on the light near the gate, he asked me if I am the one who lived in the house. I nodded. Without me asking anything, he explained that every night he switched on the light at the neighboring house on his way back to his house. He was the watchman of this house. He had found a job elsewhere now. His son switched it off in the morning. He wished me and started pedaling again, his keys making the jingling sound.

It was a big relief for me. I thought everything was solved at last. I started walking towards the door. The jingling sound was fading. I came in. Locked the door behind me. Sid came out of the bed room. He was puzzled to see the big grin on my face. As I was about to explain what just happened, suddenly, the TV switched on itself. The grin was gone off my face. As we were both looking at the TV in shock, there was a text message in Sid's phone. I grabbed the phone. The message was from Nisha. It read "Sweet dreams :)".

Sid was spellbound. But, that message made things clear to me.

"Sid, after your chat every night, you put your phone on charge in that mobile stand?"

Sid who was still terrified, just nodded his head.

"And..in the morning when you wake up, you see Nisha's text message?"

"Yes...what does it mean?"

"It means...your house is haunted, BY FEAR".

"Some TV sets get switched on by the radiation signals received by mobile phones if they are kept close to the TV. Ever since you told me this problem, I have been searching google to find reasons as to why a TV set would get switched on automatically. Only today evening I came across a discussion thread where someone has reported this problem. The TV gets automatically switched on a couple of moment before any text message is received."

I demonstrated it to convince him. "See..." I said with a big grin.

He appeared relieved. "What about the jingling?"

"That's easier. But obviously, I could not find the answer for that through google. It's your neighbor's watchman". I explained that part of the story to him.

He hugged me. He seemed excited. It did not appear that he was going to sleep anymore. I was tired though. I slept off in the couch.

Chapter 8

Nisha received a text message from Sid - "Game over. Well Played!!"

The End

Post script: http://www.avsforum.com/avs-vb/showthread.php?t=1066071

Retirement - only from employment

The oldest memory I have about my dad is him walking, carrying me on his shoulders while I was half asleep - I must have been 4 or 5 years old then. The next best I remember is the day he brought home our first TV - I must have been 7 years then. After that, of course I remember many incidents like - my dad drawing a plant in my science album (and my science teacher writing back a comment - "album work is meant for children and not parents"), helping me prepare for fancy dress competition, writing essays and speeches for me, teaching me tenses and sentence formation in English grammar, teaching me algebra, numerous images of him washing my clothes, taking me to the doctor. Most recently, organizing my sister's marriage, taking me to the bus station to send me off from Erode every time I visited home.

He retired from BSNL on July 31 after 39 years and 8 months of service - most of which, I remember him to have been a 'Section Supervisor'. He was also an active member of National Federation of Telecom Employees union and was its district head for some time. The union (NFTE) had arranged for a farewell function last week. About 1100 guests attended it - yes, it was just a retirement party!!! Most of his time in these 40 years would have been spent working for the welfare of his colleagues ranging from - assistance to get a transfer - to - winning employment for a deceased colleague's son/daughter. Yet, as cited by many of his managers, he never left any of his office work pending.

Even though dad was pre-occupied with his duties in the union and office, he managed his personal life as well stupendously. He wasn't there with me and my sister to play carrom board or to sit and watch a movie at home..but, he was there with us for the essential moments and phases of childhood. He helped us with our studies and extra-curricular activities, made sure he was on page with our progress and helped us take some key decisions in life. This post is about some of the characters of my dad that impressed me the most. He is not the type that sits and gives long lectures. He has been living a life of character and I have been inspired by just watching him.

1. Simplicity:

For a man who has served in a Central Government job for almost 40 years, I would say my dad led a life of austerity. He doesn't wear an expensive watch or foot wear. His maximum indulgence has been the two-floor house - no portion of it rented out. He now owns his second TVS 50 (after the first one started giving maintenance problems).

2. No forced Gyan:

Only recently I learnt from my mom that, my dad could not pursue a degree because his father could not afford the expense of educating 6 children at the same time. At the age of schooling he had to walk several miles to school. When he was doing his PUC, he had spent many days without even single meals a day. But, he has never told us these stories in the pretext of providing inspiration. After having grown up, the only advice I remember hearing from my dad is "Women are sensitive....you should be extra-nice to them. Even a phone call means a lot to them".

3. Hardwork:

His day typically starts at 5 am and doesn't typically return home until 8 or 9 in the night - even on Sundays. He takes a 1 hour break in the afternoon. It is very very rare to see him in front of the TV except during news hour...and even the rare occasions would have been on festive days to watch debates . He doesn't encourage useless gossips.

4. Care for friends and relations:

This has been his hallmark character. He has always kept good friends around him and others are good at least when they are around him. He treats all relations equally and has never lost an opportunity to help his friends or relations. Some of his friends impress by their hard-work, while some with their intelligence, some with their unconditional love and all of them by their sincerity. There was never a chance for negativity around our home. If there was something that wasn't good for children, that stayed outside of home (cable TV for instance :) ).

5. Diplomacy:

It is amazing to see how he handles issues with a open mind and acts as a proper diplomat, without having read Dale Carnegie or Zen principles. I have seen him playing the role of a diplomat or negotiator between groups or individuals on many occasions and I have seen his suggestions being accepted with respect.

6. Aptitude:

For someone educated in a village school, my dad impresses with his grammatically and politically correct English. His Thamizh isn't any lesser. He can read through Government acts, legal notices, pay commission guide books and explain them - even on matters outside of his departmental knowledge. During his retirement function some of the speakers said he could have been a very successful lawyer.

7. Planning and organization:

Meticulous planner - very punctual. He always keeps a dictionary with him. Carries a bag whenever he goes out. Even for 1 or 2 hour journeys, carries a towel and water bottle with him. Always carries some white papers and pen. Makes a margin and marks page numbers before starting to write anything. Keeps a dictionary by the side when he reads something.

8. Gender equality:

Helps mom in the kitchen. There is not even a hint of chauvinism in his speech or acts. At the same time, he hasn't taken any feminist measures like adding mom's initials to our names.

Of course, mom has complemented him very well. Without her, he couldn't have been the man he is. If Rajamanickam is behind "Bhupesh Rajamanickam", Usha Rani is a part of "Bhupesh Rajamanickam" (All alphabets in her name fit into my name..almost in the same order except for 1 'a').

Life after retirement is very tricky especially for those who have been very active. Hopefully, dad will find things to keep himself active. The retirement will hopefully give him enough time to cherish his meals, follow his passions and live an unconstrained life. Through this post I wish him good luck.

Writer's block

Much traffic has flown through the lanes of 100 feet road since I last posted. Week after week I have been thinking about putting something up, at least to keep it going, but, too much reading of the newspaper has created a state of mind where choosing a topic to write about, has become a very boring task. Clearly, "Ignorance is bliss". At last I decided to write one even if it turned out to be less attractive.

When I quit the job, I did so with an apprehension - that I might end up becoming even more lazier and that I might end up accomplishing nothing much. However, having another friend to prepare with for the exams meant I had someone to keep nudging me. And that meant, a lot of reading - on a wide range of topics - from Indian monsoon to Western political thought; from rare earth minerals to comets; from SAARC to World Bank.

Apparently, the earth gives rise to more news than babies - what with all the revolutions in Tunisia, Egypt, Lybia and co.; the twin disasters in Japan; the hegimony by the US of America; the drama by beloved Anna Hazare and his civil society friends; the rather meek killing of Osama; the court trial of the joker Headley; Tamilnadu and WB elections; and ofcourse the world famous 2G. There wasn't a day when CNN-IBN did not have a sensational news or an exclusive interview.

That reminds me of an important discovery to share. One is better-off listening to the 15 minute DD news (the one for the hearing impaired will do) than listening to the 'expert' opinions on NDTV or CNN-IBN. For best results, sell the TV.

It has been fun to spend a lot of time in wikipedia and Govt of India websites. It has been even more fun to explain to family and friends about what I have been reading with more than adequate usage of jargons like carbon credit, inclusive growth, wholesale price index, etc.

The good thing is that I get to wake up every morning knowing that there is no onsite call to attend or any audit to prepare for or any training to help the team with. Perhaps, the best feeling is that I don't have to rate my own team as good or mediocre performers.

Busy for Nothing

Dot 1
It was a saturday in 2000. Early days of college life. As a member of the "Leo club", I was helping with a blood donation camp organized within my college campus. Many of the readers of this blog being my college friends or co-workers, you probably know very well that I tend to be over-serious and hyper-responsible on such occasions, whether the occasion demands it or not - mostly not. This friend of mine, a girl, had been trying to get me out of the scene of action to say something (may be something like, "you stink"). I said, I will be there, but was continuously engaging someone or was just creating a "I am busy" atmosphere. Finally when I walked up to her and said, "sorry madam, I got busy"....for the first time she called me "Busy for nothing". That she continued to address me "Mr.Busy for Nothing", till the end of college, even in the slam book and that some of my other friends too started calling me so, is history. (That she also used to call me 'Badmash' (Rascal) is something I am making public now).

That phrase has become so much a part of me that, when someone asks me "Are you busy"...I often say, "yes, for nothing".

Somewhere in 2009, on one of the many lazy evenings, I started thinking a little deeper about the phrase. Ever since I joined college, I have always been busy with my own agenda. I haven't spent as much time with friends or family as others would have done. At least, till end of college, the 'busy'ness had been useful to others or myself. But, after taking up a job, all I have been focussing on is getting things done at work - more and more. For the most part, I have remained totally tuned out with respect to other aspects of life like - knowing the world, knowing people, travelling, thinking about investments, thinking about smarter career moves, getting license, filing tax, or even changing the address in my passport. But, that evening, it just ended with saying to myself, "How correct she was!! Oh boy, she is an oracle".

Dot 2
Again in 2009, I happened to watch the bollywood movie "Rock On" on Netflix. For those of you who do not know, it is a movie about how 4 college friends start a music band and then life takes them in different directions - 3 of them being successful in their line of work. Some incidents bring them together after few years and they resume the band. I liked the movie very much and still is in my list of favorites. That movie made me feel guilty about a few choices I made in life and many things I failed to even take a step towards.


Dot 3
After returning to India,one of the first things I did was to reload my i-pod with some latest songs. Thankfully, the friend who did it for me had "Rock On" in his collection. After shifting to Coimbatore, I happened to travel a lot between
Coimbatore-Erode-Chennai. For the first 2 months, my ipod was a great company during these travels. I played the songs from "Rock On", in a loop. Especially, the lyrics of "Sindbad the sailor", haunted me. Sometimes I felt very inspired, sometimes I felt sad and many times I felt a lot uneasy about the cliche choices I had made.

On one of these many travels, I wanted to listen to something other than "Rock On" and "Vinnaith Thaandi Varuvaya" and scrolled through the list of songs, when I stumbled upon podcasting of a collection of books. I started listening to "The Natural Mind - Waking up" by Alan Macmillan. I did not finish listening to the complete audio of the book...but, the few chapters that I listened to were very thought provoking. They made me think that I am a very insignificant being considering the timelessness and vastness of the universe and there hasn't been anything purposeful done by me to claim the special right to exist here.

Dot 4
I stopped being blind and deaf towards the everyday pain that people undergo to meet their basic needs. I stopped being critical of the beggars and less-intellects. I stopped thinking that my standard of living was because I had some special survival skills.

The hunger, the crowds, the fight to get a seat in the buses, the lack of courtesy to another human being are not new to me. I have grown up amidst this way of life. But, because I was developing empathy towards the less fortunate, I started viewing life through a different prism.

Dot 5
One of the significant personal improvements after returning to India has been the availability of time to read books. I have brought down the number of fictions I read and increased the count of non-fictions. Some of these books - "Go kiss the world", "7 habits of highly effective people", "A fist full of rice", "Thiruppumunai", "Mystics Musings", "The google story" - rekindled questions which have always been in my mind, but have been ignored in the pursuit of happiness as defined by the south-Indian society - score marks, go to a good college, get a job, focus on career, go abroad, buy a house, buy a car, marry a girl (a beautiful one), have kids, put them in the best of schools. The translated book "Thiruppumunai" - original version in English titled "Making breakthrough innovations happen" inspired me greatly. Also my interactions with my friends Suren and Anitha who are working with a non-profit organization made me question my aspirations in life. I started feeling uncomfortable to remain in the 'safe zone'.

Dot 6
Attaining the age of marriage meant attending the marriage of many school and college friends. During these gatherings, I got to meet some old friends most of whom had chosen the usual text book way of south-Indian life. However, I also got to meet few friends who had dared to think differently. These guys inspired me.

During a chat with my close friend Suresh who is preparing for Civil Service Examination, he explained me what and how he was preparing. The preparation and process was so interesting and immediatley I recognized that, that was exactly what I have been wanting to do. I seemed to have found something to hold on to. Something that would give me the satisfaction of treading the road not taken. After the chat, I was searching for something in google and stumble upon a page that quoted from "The Alchemist" - "When you really want something, the whole universe conspires in helping you achieve it".

After a month, I submitted my resignation. From April 12th, I will be a student again. I will be busy, hopefully, not for nothing.

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Post-Script
Here is a speech by Steve Jobs about connecting the dots. Hopefully I will connect my dots - if not - I will find other dots.

Picture courtesy: http://bjovanovic.wordpress.com/2009/11/30/solutions-and-possibilities/