From TBM to CGL

The train was expected to arrive at 8:05 AM and I, along with a friend entered the railway station twenty five minutes in advance, because it is very easy to catch the wrong train. We were looking for the train that had CGL written on its front which would take us to Chengalpatu. It is only logical to ask a waiting passenger if one misses the CGL symbol, however, this is what happened when we asked one such passenger - we ended up in a train that headed to Marina Beach.
Yes, there are some things we learn only by experience because advice cannot get farther in content than "Make sure you catch the right train!" We had to take the wrong one to learn.
The train had reached Tambaram and its velocity had started to become negative, the train moved backwards. "Oh, so this is how the train goes to Chengalpatu.", I thought. Only my friend was sensible enough to suggest we jump off the train before it crossed the station. It was our first day as interns in a reputed company and this is what we were doing - hopping on and off wrong trains.

The mistake wasn't inexcusable though, thankfully. The trains that went to Chengalpatu had to pass through Tambaram and there was a schedule board for the CGL trains. We were convinced we couldn't go wrong again. The next train would arrive only twenty minutes later and we knew we were either going to be just in time or late. All train delays over a year in Japan add up to around a minute. All train delays over a year in India...,oh wait. Delays of a single train over a year in India add up to four hours, I roughly estimated. Yes, the estimation lacked proof but I was well convinced it was way more than a minute. We weren't surprised, we didn't not expect a delay but we thought the trainers at the company didn't expect a delay from us. "Sir, trains in India don't arrive on time.", we were going to tell him, but later realised it sounded awkwardly irrelevant to anything that would surround us there.

The train was going to be late anyway. We turned tourists who had arrived to check out the hustle and bustle of platform number 8 and 9 at the Tambaram railway station from 9:20 AM to 9:40 AM. Yes, the destination sounds too narrowed down, but it was fine for twenty minutes. Just as we decided to walk around, I watched a lady heading our way (the kind of lady Vadivel would describe as Lambadi Pomblai). She seemed like she was in a hurry, but no, she had the time. She paused for a few seconds, made a V-shape with her index and middle finger (just like the victory symbol used by politicians, only laterally inverted), placed it tangential to her lips on either side and shot out a jet of chewed paan with such deftness..,right, I will stop here. The jet ended its projectile trajectory (which would be a photographer's delight to capture) on the railway tracks. She was done and seemed like in a hurry again. Interesting.
We hadn't eaten since morning and we spotted a store. It wasn't hard to spot one, there was one, every ten metres. The store had its menu displayed on the outside. We could choose between "Card rice with pickal, Priyani rice, Leman rice, Sembhar Voda, etc." My friend ordered, "One Voda na."

The twenty minutes had ended and we were interns again. We had decided to apologise to the trainer as soon as we reached, assuming we would be late. The train arrived, overflowing with passengers metaphorical to how no matter how much you try to stuff something in your bag, it cannot be zipped and you decide to let it open. I chuckled as I convinced my friend, "Don't worry da, they're all going to get down here." We waited for a minute and the bag was still open. My friend stared at me. I pointed at the coach that seemed empty. This is one mistake every inexperienced traveller makes, taking to that coach. Any coach that seems reasonably empty is either an only women-coach or a first class-coach. Our tickets were 80 rupees lesser expensive than a first class-ticket but we got on to it and exchanged smart looks glad to have found a seat in such an exceedingly overcrowded train. It wouldn't have been long before a policeman got in to check tickets and fined us 300 rupees each.

We got into a different compartment in the following station where we found space just for the feet. A blind hobo in the coach had dropped his cup which he used for his coins. The person next to him picked it up for him. The man seemed too tuckered out to even ask for money. He probably needed food more than money. Another lady, seemingly a hobo, hopped into the train in the next station with her three children, one, an infant, and the other two that seemed to have just begun to walk. They weren't just toddlers, they were amateur gymnasts that could perform with a still ring. They were done before the train reached the next station and went around with the coin-cup as the mother and the infant sat, waiting, like it was their daily ritual. The woman-peanut vendor went around selling her stock in the crowded compartment. Another vagrant had set up his shop by the entrance, he sold superhero masks.
The journey that began at the Guindy railway station was full of activity, till we reached our destination, Maraimalainagar. We got into a ridiculously over-filled share auto to reach the plant.

"Hello sir, we are here for an in-plant training, here are our confirmation letters. We are extremely sorry for the delay. The train..."
"No no, that's fine. Take a seat in the reception hall.", said the trainer.

The Brave Indian Pedestrian

The man might have been in his sixties. The road adjacent to my apartment is probably eight to ten metres wide. He stood right in the middle of the road on the dividing line looking at vehicles on both sides, helplessly. I walked out of the apartment into the departmental store attached to the building, purchased what I had to and returned to find the old man rooted to the same point, looking helpless. The purchase should have taken a good two to three minutes at most.
This is what most pedestrians in the city are put through when they cross the road.

Most drivers show no hint of respect to the pedestrian (does the pedestrian show any to the driver?) Why does that happen? (Please, don't blame it on the population of our country) I ponder over the question and that teaches me a way of classifying drivers.
This classification is based on reactions of drivers when interviewed, predicted by my cognition. Here are some answers to queries on momentary feelings on spotting a pedestrian waiting to cross the road.

Type 1 : "I don't stop for the pedestrians to cross the road, I need to reach my destination quickly. Wait, I don't really see a pedestrian until he comes before my vehicle and I don't want to get into a murder case."
It is bereaving that a majority of the drivers are under this category. The 'man crossing the road' saw many of them pass by in his brief ordeal in the middle of the road, so did I from the safe end.

Type 2 : "Yes, I notice a pedestrian waiting to cross the road. I don't stop though, because no one else does. Why should I stop when they don't? So that the vehicle behind hits mine? Let her/him cross after all the the vehicles pass by. Moreover, I am in a hurry."
If similar kinds were to be grouped, here we have the second largest group. Although different from Type 1 in mentality, the outcome is the same. The 'man crossing the road' is still stranded.

Type 3 : “I can very well see her/him waiting in distress to cross the road. I try to pause and let her/him go. However sometimes…I just don’t know why, I can’t get myself to stop.”

‘Oh sad’ and only two words of sympathy. This is the kind, that shows hope, that brakes, but never really reaches zero velocity. The man is still stranded, prefers suicide to the indefinite wait and puts a foot forward when he meets Type 4.

Type 4 : “Oh no! A pedestrian caught in the middle of the road? I would let her/him cross any day.  You see.. I’ve been there.. I know the feeling plus it’s a compromise on safety”

The man is pleased. He crosses the road (with a smile when he meets the kind first or disparaged after a long wait). This kind is least seen on our roads.

Oh the shop is on the other side? Lets cross here.

An Indian pedestrian comes across such a variety of mindsets while crossing the road. There are not many crossing junctions in the city. The pedestrian in most cases is left with no other option, but to brave the oncoming traffic. Pedestrians here, have trained themselves that way. 

You don't everywhere come across Zebra crossing lines in the city and where you do, the vehicles cover it. ("I will still follow the rule"?) The only option then, is to walk over the vehicles.

Not many of us here actually know how the Zebra crossing system works. The Highway Code says that motorists MUST give way to the pedestrian when someone has moved onto a crossing (Courtesy : devon.gov.uk). When I accidentally took to the road in a street in Toronto, an approaching motorist stopped his vehicle at the first sight of me, a good ten feet away. We exchanged glances, the motorist was probably wondering, "Oh that was close!" and I, the opposite. The local pedestrian there knows, that is how it works and she/he realises her/his duty, crosses only in crossing junctions. It is an understanding that other countries can only think about, that we have with motorists while crossing the road because the flaw here lies not just with the motorist, but the pedestrian too.

The green man walks when the vehicle signal goes red

The Zebra crossing system hasn't made pedestrian crossing much easier in our place.

The only crossing system that works well is the Pelican Crossing (Green Man Crossing) system. The system requires a more expensive set up than the Zebra crossing and hence isn't found on all roads. 

I'm sure every Indian pedestrian is relieved on spotting the Green Man.


The solution to the pedestrian problems : A change in mindset and better discipline, both among the drivers and the pedestrians, because honking past a pedestrian is no heroic act and the pedestrian must use his senses while crossing, better pedestrian crossing infrastructure and awareness among people regarding the same. Not everyone would understand Pelican Crossing panels (consists of a button that registers a pedestrian waiting to cross the road and adjusts the traffic signals accordingly) until educated about it (or even unless it is set up here). The pedestrian must use the Zebra crossing wherever possible and motorists must brake completely before the pedestrian. When stranded in the middle of the road, one must make a conscious effort to signal her/his presence when vehicles don't stop. 

The Indian pedestrian settles for the chaotic crossing experience and that must not be the case. Why settle for the helter-skelter everyday experience? In fact, all it takes is just a little to follow the rule and that can create a difference for the better.

Paati

She offered me love, unconditional in the true sense. My mere presence could give her joy, even during her last few moments. I was an integral part of the final decade in her 91-year-stay on earth. 91 year old lady, it is my grandmother I'm talking about.
I suppose a few of you are going to quit reading this here.

When I was a kid, the ritualistic January visit to Kumbakonam gave me immense joy. For the first nine years of my life, that was where I used to meet my grandmother. She would call out to me "Vigneshuuu!", I would respond "varen 'Etchi' paati.". I was very bad at pronouncing 'Lakshmi Ammal', her actual name. 

She would put her hand over me when I lay on her lap and I would play with the wart on her right hand, next to the thumb. She had raised three children, she knew what could comfort kids and it showed.
She was a popular lady in the Brahmin community in Kumbakonam. People came to her for loans, for marriages or for educational purposes. She wasn't a rich lady herself, but she knew where to get the money from. She would ask the influential, willing ones and they would oblige to paati, 'Lakshmi Ammal'. She was a well wisher to many in the town. 

She was 80 years old and her health needed more attention. The kid always loves the grandparent and I jumped in excitement when paati moved in with us permanently. She was offered all kinds of materialistic luxury to make up for her grief of leaving Kumbakonam. I had been an integral part of her life since then. 

A couple of years later, I shared my bedroom with her. She watched her TV shows on mute when I opened my books to study. She was on her own during this period, she could take care of herself, do the evening walk on her own with the walking stick. She had stubborn preferences unlike most women of her generation, she wouldn't use the walking stick if it didn't satisfy her quality norms. 

During her stay in my room, she spent most of her time writing names of Gods in notebooks. She woke up from her afternoon nap around five every evening and sat up to do the writing. She smiled in joy everytime I praised her handwriting and argued with me over the number of pages she wrote. She always got the calculation of the number of times she had written right and I more often that not, wrong, number of rows * number of columns * number of pages.

When I sat next to her on the bed, she would move and ask me to lie next to her on the bed and put her arm around me. Trust me, she moved every time I sat on the bed, even if it meant compromising on a comfortable nap. She never asked me to study, she only asked me to take breaks.

She had to bear all of this from me in her 90s

I wasn't a consistent performer at school, the never bad but never too good kind. Once, she had somehow deciphered I was in for yelling when dad returned from office. She probably overheard my conversation about the exam results with my father over phone. It was 6pm and time for dad to return that evening. I waited anxiously hoping to meet him in good mood. But no, Murphy's law worked. Dad and I took opposite seats in the hall and I knew I was in for some serious advice. But wait, guess who walked between the two of us and took the seat in the middle? Yes she came to the hall and why?, to take my side.  She said to my dad (and I translate to English), "I know Vignesh hasn't done well this time but you shouldn't shout at him for that. We know he is a capable student and that he will do well in his next exam. Don't you dare raise your voice against him." And that is no exaggeration. She was my hero that night. 

She squeezed herself through the tiny gap between the chair and the cot while I was studying. She didn't want to ask me to move thinking it would disturb me. 

But those were the last few days she actually walked. Health started playing spoilsport and she wasn't the kind that accepted deterioration with age easily. She got into moods of depression in self pity. She found solace in me sitting beside her.

A walking stick wasn't enough anymore. She needed a four-footed-walker and it wasn't too late before it became too heavy for her to carry. She needed people to help her walk to attend nature's calls. I accompanied her when the maid wasn't around, she feared less when I was around. 

My room wasn't hers anymore, she moved to the adjacent room which has an attached washroom, it made the walk less stressful for her.

From the next room, she would call out to me, "Vigneshhu!". She did her evening walks inside the house, she walked the extra yard or two when I held her hands. She ended these walks with a half an hour halt at the hall, I would come back to bring her to the room. 

Her health fluctuated, more towards the negative side, it wasn't uncommon, she was just getting older. Whenever she had dissensions with the maid, she would call out to me and if the maid responded I was busy studying, she would tell her, "Tell him I called. He will come." I eventually ended up next to her to help her out. 

Times changed and I didn't have much time for paati. I attended to her calls from the next room yes, but not much more than that. 

I realised I felt frustrated about her poor health, she always said she wouldn't complain without reason. We never really understand a person as old as she was.

She was bed-ridden, but the humour her innocence brought out was never down. She questioned dad why he was late from his trip and he replied, "Traffic ma.", referring to the traffic on the way back home from the airport. The innocent person that she was, began wondering about airplanes stuck in traffic mid-air. She hadn't seen real ones in her life and she never really knew how they worked.

She was permanently bed-ridden. She needed a nurse to help her with essentials. She was always afraid of the hospital. She mentioned she wanted to breathe last only at home and prayed to Perumal. Months passed and the day occurred when she had to be hospitalised. It was meant to test her increasing back pain that made it hard for her to sit. The day she left home, she turned to me and my dad from the wheel chair and said (and I translate), "I'm afraid I wouldn't come back." Dad replied, "Of course you would ma". I kept silent. 

I paid visits to the her in the hospital every alternate day. I was sent to give her food, which she otherwise would refuse to have. 

For the first time, she showed signs of memory loss. She couldn't place herself in a hospital and asked me when we would go back to Chennai. She remembered me well enough, however. The "how will I not"  look on her face when the maid asked her if she remembered me confirmed it.

She had been in the hospital for seven days, we knew and the doctors confirmed, we had to be prepared for her end. She was carrying a legacy, the last alive among siblings.
To me, she had been a friend, a well wisher, a roommate, a grandmother who had only love to offer. Just before I left to Trichy for a competition, I met her at the hospital. I let her know I was going to sing and that put a smile on her face. I shook hands with her in return for her signature 'thumbs up with the smile'. Little did I realise then that it would be the last time I would see her smile.
I returned from Trichy and there she was, lying in her hospital bed, with the oxygen mask on. She had lost conscience, her organs had started quitting. She wasn't gone yet, but it was grief I decided to let out then, I cried.
She showed hints of recovery for the next couple of days but not after that. Her organs failed her, all she could do was lie down on the bed with the oxygen mask on.
"She has a renal failure..you know they don't make it long after the kidney fails.", the doctor said. Two days up, and she still survived with the oxygen mask on. It was a matter of surprise for the doctors, "A 91 year old lady surviving two days with a renal failure?!"

"Paati always said she wanted to breathe last at home", my mother remembered. Yes, that was what she was waiting for. She couldn't say that out, she was too weak to talk and she wasn't going to stay longer. She had spent twelve years with us at home, and that is where she wanted to end.
The nurse whispered in paati's ear before leaving the hospital, that she was going home. Her ears moved as though signalling approval, the nurse said. It was a risky task to bring her home in that condition, but it was discernible she wouldn't stay long in the hospital as well. She was put into the best ambulance the hospital could offer and brought home.
The oxygen tank was ready at home, the bed set, the home all ready to welcome her. The ambulance reached the lobby and I brought the wheel chair.

She probably thought she had reached home already while downstairs, she breathed last in the ambulance.

Upholding a Cultural Identity

What is it about the current generation in India that sets it apart culturally? I've mused over the question many a time, yet never have I been able to find a definitive answer.

I'm sure you found the question vague. We dress in western fashion. We prefer the western language over ours. We accept the western education. We see 'western' as the bench mark. Yes, there is just too much of 'western' in this paragraph as well as in our lives.

'Education is truly what defines a person' sounds like a sentence lifted from an essay written by a fifth grader but is very true. The western education is what is required to survive practically in the current world, one may argue, but the Indian system of education is what defined it culturally in the past. A modern world Indian parent wouldn't even consider enrolling her/his ward in a Gurukula. The answer to the question "Why isn't the Gurukula system of education practical in the current world?" is "It is too superior to be practical in the current world."

Over the past centuries, the Gurukula system has faded away, giving way to modern day schools as we know them today. 'Gurukulas' are described in past tense in textbooks of the current system. However, they aren't completely extinct, thanks to Purohits who still practise it.

As I was carrying out my Yajur Upakarma (sacred thread ceremony) rituals, I glanced at the twenty odd little boys who had accompanied the 'main Purohit' to help him out with the proceedings, all dressed in dhotis tied in traditional style and head half shaved with a small tuft in the back (kudumi, sikha). They bowed to their Guru in respect and carried out the tasks he had ordered them to.
It was a working day at the Gurukula for them, a practical class on how to carry out the Upakarma rituals. The dhoti was their uniform, the Purohit, their teacher. It was all analogous to a modern day classroom.

The boys' faces sparkled with an innocence a 10-year-old-school-going-kid now lacks. The boys were in their Bhramacharyasharma stage, where Vedas are studied under the guidance of teachers at the Gurukula. Though analogous in classroom pattern, these are two very different education systems. In a Gurukula, the sishya (student) is required to stay with his Guru away from his parents throughout his Bhramacharyasharma stage.
Any classroom is incomplete without the notorious ones. The notorious one among the ones who were present on that day reached out to the tuft of another fellow sishya and pulled it.

These kids look seemingly unperturbed by the fact that they lead a life very different from a mainstream kid of their same age. 'The kid distributing the thread' passed by the 'little boy from the apartment' meddling with his iPad without taking a second to glance at him. The act, to me, showed the kids' acceptance of their detachment from the modern world amenities. They lead the simple life, devoid of most of the comforts the modern kid fancies.

The Vedas are their syllabus. The Vedas are some of the oldest writings ever known to mankind, invaluable gifts from Rishis. They teach the philosophy and principles of life which the western-influenced kid today lacks. Had he/she been introduced to the Vedas at a young age, he/she would have had a cultural identity of his/her own.
This is exactly what our generation lacks, a cultural identity. The western man is staying true to his principles, the Indian isn't.

As I continued looking at these kids of Purohits, I wondered how they have a legacy to preserve. It is a matter of surprise that the Vedic culture scarcely prevails amidst distractions of the modern world.
These kids, probably have not realised the responsibility they hold yet, they need to uphold what truly sets our country apart from the rest of the world, the Vedas.

Epic enough!

I stood at the Chennai Central railway station looking at the hundred friends who had turned up for the department tour to Wayanad in Kerala. I was looking at the responsibility I had shouldered along with the 'friend from the next class'. Responding to a pat on my back at that moment, I turned. It was my professor from college who had accompanied us for the three day trip. "Don't worry. At the end of the day, co-operation from each individual is what is required to make a successful trip.", he said and left to attend a call he had just received. He suggested we were like a team and I, a leader.

The railway station, with all the hustle bustle and its characteristic toilet aroma wasn't the place where my brain could process what my professor had just said. The sentence was registered in my memory, however.

We bade farewell to the dear ones who had come to see us off. The trip had begun. 

The train journey was all boisterous. The professor told us about his 'good-old days' and how a trip is more fun when the group is all-boys. The until-then-a-little-grim-group, gained enough energy from the professor's words and got all charged up. The mood for the trip was set up in the 11 hour overnight journey.
The first day, with the cave visit and the camp fire dance was exactly the kind of fun the group expected to have. If the friends found the day enjoyable, we the organisers, called it a successful day.

The second day began with a change in schedule. With the hundred people waiting for the day's agenda, we stood without a plan owing to weather's antics. The 'friend from the next class' was all cool, all through. "There is a waterfall two kms away. We could try speaking to the guide and get that on the schedule.", he said. I nodded in affirmation and the group didn't mind bearing the extra cost that had popped up.

The bus was parked more than a kilometre away from the waterfall. We had to trek up some treacherous land to make it there. Not all wished to brave the dicey waterfall. The ones that did, knew it was going to be some adventure.
The trek up wasn't a difficult task. All of them including the 'professor with his infant' made it to the top of the hills.
The end of the trek was met with the sound of the gushing water, that fell from a good height and hoots and screeches from the fellow friends. The first sight of the waterfall left us all stunned.
The viewers watched from the rocks that weren't wet, yet. The ones that chose to brave the water, stepped into the first tier. The waterfall had three tiers, of which the first one was least dangerous, the second, more and the third, the most. I hesitated to step into the freezing water when a friend called out for me,"Oh just jump in! You get used to it in seconds." 3...2...1 and I jumped in! Seconds later, I repeated that to another hesitant friend.
The water bed isn't flat, instead is rocky everywhere and each step had to be calculated. A wrong step could have even proven fatal. The brave guys offered their hands in support to the not so brave ones like me who in turn uttered dialogues to the 'hesitant ones', "It takes seconds to get used to it!".

 The waterfall was a picturesque natural setting. I moved my head up gradually..tier 1..tier 2..tier 3..beautiful view of the deciduous forest..sky, cloudy sky, dark clouds, Oh! Rain awaits!

The daring ones had already made it to tier 2 and started calling out to the folks in tier 1. The water flowed faster in tier two and more importantly, alarmingly, the entry route to the second tier wouldn't serve as the exit route. There was no time to think about it, 'the brave friend' called out to me loud. Climbing through the rocks to tier two seemed like a risky task, the friend in tier 2 dismissed its difficulty level in a second.

There I was in tier two, the view of tier one and the remaining part of the waterfall till the blind spot was a visual treat, natural beauty, left undisturbed by man. Seconds after admiring nature's stock, I turned, where stood a friend bleeding. The friend had banged his head against a rock. The man that he was, he dismissed the injury and began discussing 'prospective crazy things to do in tier two of Meenmutty falls in Wayanad'.
I knew the cut he had on his head wasn't that easy after all. It required immediate dressing to stop the bleeding.
We had to find a way to get out of tier two and into the 'dry rocks.' Little did we realise they were going to be as slippery as the ones in the falls for it had just started to drizzle.
As the rain intensified, each one became more self conscious. The place was dangerous and the path to the roads, more treacherous.
I left behind my bag and sandals for it required more rock negotiation. I was on my way back with the 'calm friend', barefooted. "Watch the slipperly floor!", "It slips more here!", "The rain is getting heavier!", I kept telling. "Okay okay..", said the friend, calmly.
As we trekked down, I wondered if the sudden change in schedule proved detrimental. I doubted the hundred would make it. The injured friend, the one girl, the professor with his infant, all came to my mind as I continued looking after myself through the path, attentively. The heavy rain reminded me of Uttarkhand landslides. The issue here however, wasn't that serious after all.

The sight of the bus from a distance gave me profound relief and the contentment of a satisfying adventure.
The vegetable shop next to the bus, was the soon-to-be-mens-changing room.
Fifteen minutes later, the rain receded, more friends arrived, the situation was getting better.
The hundred people changed into dry clothes in front of two different shops. The shopkeepers were the least surprised, it probably wasn't a new situation they had witnessed.

The group was all ready in half an hour to board the bus. Each person took responsibility for himself. None complained, even the ones that had misplaced their belongings in the commotion. Even the richest of the lot didn't complain, for all of them saw it as a satisfying adventure.

 "Don't worry. At the end of the day, co-operation from each individual is what is required to make a successful trip." It made sense right then.

Expecting negative answers, I asked a few friends if they enjoyed the day. I couldn't come across one who didn't enjoy the adventure. The only complaint was from the ones that didn't take to the water but got drenched in the rain. Sad, you see, when the purpose gets defeated.

The friends had a good day. I branded it a 'successful day' in my mind as I boarded the bus. I wondered if I could tell my friends, "What if I tell you this was part of the plan?".

Surrendered to the Mobile Phone

Ever wondered about a world without mobile phones? It is hard to spot a person without one these days. Long gone are the days when owning a mobile phone was a luxury. In the era of smartphones, owning one becomes a necessity.

The luxury period : A little more than a decade ago, my father purchased a new device and brought it home. We hadn't seen much of the mobile phone around before that, we gazed at it open mouthed. Two years later, he brought home the smaller and the more expensive variety, that even sported a camera and once again we were left gaping.

The luxury-necessity period : The introduction of Motorazr in 2004 was a revolution of sorts. It was introduced right at a time when owning sleek goods was a fashion symbol. Mobile phones then started appealing to the younger lot and they weren't as expensive as before. This was the time the college going sons and daughters got their Nokia 3310s. Primarily meant for safety reasons, it imperceptibly became a necessity.

The necessity period : 2007- current. The period of the iPhones and the Galaxys. Nothing much to be said, for all of us know how much we depend on the device we carry everywhere we go.

Life without mobile phones is at first unimaginable to some. Forgive the younger ones, the older people find themselves checking theirs, once every five minutes. Ever since the inception of mobile phones, man's dependence on the seemingly 'I know it all device' has increased.

Think about a current world devoid of mobile phones. Thoughts about the hypothetical world startles one about how mankind has let the device define his way of life.

Consider the following situation.
A terrorist group is on a mission to take down an enemy. The mission proceeds as planned initially. Further actions require orders from the higher official and this requires a phone call to be made from the field. The phone chooses to malfunction at that point of time. The 'terrorist on field' takes a momentary decision which he prefers referring to as an anonymous one, the decision backfires and brings down his group.
The most significant step of the assault banked on the mobile phone the terrorist had to have.
(Replace 'terrorist' with 'National security guard' and the case still holds true.)
The above discussed scene appeared in a movie that I watched recently and left me wondering how major decisions bank on a mobile phone.

In more common and civilized lifestyle, smartphones rule the roost. Phones are not only meant for calling anymore. Times have changed, questions have evolved from "What can a mobile phone do?" to "What can't it do?".
The mother reaches for the mobile phone to know if her son has reached safely. The driver uses his phone as a navigation device. The traveller uses it to click pictures. Most smartphone users use theirs to access the all-wise-internet. The phone tells your heart rate, it gets you the day's share updates, it lets you follow your favourite sport. The mobile phone in the current world is indispensable.
Gone are the (good old?) days when a one-to-one-meet-up was the only type of social gathering. Online groups and messaging services have reconceptualized social meetings and gatherings. A group announcement is just a type-and-tap away with a smartphone in hand.

My grandmother watches in awe as I scroll through my iPad and put my brother on a video chat. Talking to her grandson, who lives continents away,  on a video call wasn't even a dream in her younger days. Her dreams couldn't go that far.

The growth of the mobile phone market is a classic example of human obsession. The market has seen its largest growth in the last decade owing to man's obsession in making life easier with a mobile phone.

Modernization as it is now owes much of itself to mobile phones. The effect of mobile phones on the current generation is almost the line that separates it from the previous generations.
Whether the effect is good or bad is a debate on its own, but the fact remains that the world has 'surrendered to mobile phones'.

Make way!

Brief description of a typical traffic situation in Chennai :
The auto misses your vehicle by an inch, the bus driver decides not to brake despite the signal turning red, vehicles move slowly like a herd of sheep even when the signal suggests braking. Pedestrians lose their temper and try to stop your vehicle in order that they can cross the road, and you decide not to stop and honk your way past them. An overdose of relentless honking accompanied by high pollution levels is common.
"Make way for me" is the underlying theme that describes the Chennai traffic.

There are well established traffic rules in Chennai like in any other big city. However, following the rules is too mainstream for Chennaites. What do they do? Break the rules, create problems and find solutions for the same. It is the sort of situation that can be avoided by merely following the rules.

A typical Chennai traffic situation. Rules followed? Vehicles close enough.

Lanes? We haven't heard of them in Chennai. Heavy vehicles and two wheelers use the same line of traffic. The concept of driving in lanes hasn't arrived here yet (or have we gone beyond the concept?). The absence of lanes doesn't bother Chennaites. They are 'street-smart' in the literal sense.
The main culprits(?) of the situation are the auto drivers. These men are known for their perfectly-judged filling of every possible gap on the road. They see them as voids, cavities that need to be filled. The auto right in front of the 'blue bus' (see image) describes this situation clearly. He fits his vehicle in a position which restricts his movement in all directions unless the vehicles beside move.
Owner-driven cars are the most vulnerable, the ones who complain the most about the traffic and score less in street-smartness.
The ones on the bike, much to the envy of the car drivers, maneuver their small vehicles with ease through a path that would lead them as close as possible to the signal.
Amidst all chaos, lies an understanding between the drivers, in which lies the solution to the problem created by the disorder. A visitor from overseas would describe the above picture as a depiction of a panic situation. It however isn't one and an Indian knows it.

T Nagar is one area infamous for its traffic. One does not simply cross at the signal in T Nagar. During the festive season, vehicles line up (crowd up?) till the beginning of Pondy Bazaar. It is an undying passion to shop at T Nagar that causes one to risk this one hell of a traffic. The 'uncle from next door' described his experience in T Nagar the other day. He waited behind a car for minutes, only to later realise that the car before him had halted and the driver had no intentions of moving. The perfect camouflage of the parked car had the 'uncle from next door' assuming the car would move sometime.
What follows from Pondy Bazaar is an amazingly straight stretch of traffic congestion. The stretch contains an exceedingly large number of alarmingly over-crowded share autos. They stop their vehicle right at the sight of a prospective passenger irrespective of the number of seats available. Passengers fill the volume of the share auto completely, even the tiny space over the engine, next to the gearbox.
Despite the fatiguing traffic situation, it is the understanding that gives a person the nerve to brave the traffic and make it through.

The understanding :
It is when you decide not to panic even when the ply of vehicles behind you honk relentlessly. It is when you know the auto driver is at fault and you shout at him for the same. It is when you understand pavements are meant for hawkers and encroachments and roads are meant for walking and driving en masse.

In short, it is when you realise 'the roads are filled with idiots'. It is only then, a person is ready to brave the Chennai traffic.

The Local Authors and AU Examinations

It has been quite a while. Exams, you see. Blogging wasn't an option over the last month. Each time exams get over, I look back and wonder how I managed to do away with the distractions and pat myself on the back. Yeah, I just did too.

One might question the 'pat'. "Every student takes up examinations. Writing a series of examinations is not an achievement after all.” I answer, "Writing Anna University examinations is." Yes, I can hear the seniors telling me what I have seen is just the beginning.

After being put through correction antics in the first semester, it was a deliberate decision from my side to be a little more cautious this time. I had to choose the right books to learn from, the right authors.

Here is a stereotypical classification of authors.

1) Local author : Writing an Anna University examination?, get a book of hers/his.

2) Local-foreign author : A rare breed of Indian authors that exhibits traits of good foreign authors.

3) Foreign-local author : A foreign author who has taken inspiration from the ones belonging to the first category.

4) Foreign author : The ideal author. 

I had to choose books from the first category.

Who is a local author? (The definition is a product of my imagination and the 'local' has no racist intentions)

A highly qualified academic author who is better known for his expertise in training a candidate to write an examination than for his scholarly works. The 'local' refers to the author's origin in the literal sense. However, as the stereotype goes, the 'local' relates to the made up definition of a local author. Call a local author book ‘LAB’.

Books by such authors are the kind of ones most sought after right before the examination. You are most likely to hear the shopkeeper say, "Out of stock" for the popular books. These books are going to give you the 'key words' the examiner is looking for. If you were wondering how to fill pages to to make up a sixteen-mark-answer, you have the answer. The book is like a halo over your head. It is the solution to your problems.

LABs are visually distinctly identifiable. The cover of such books contains highlighted features apart from a random diagram from one of the lessons. A typical LAB contains 'salient features' such as previous years' solved question papers, two mark questions, and well highlighted notes that remind you you are only preparing for an examination and not learning. Don't be surprised to find grammatical errors and logical inconsistencies. Once you choose to read the book, train to live with it. 

Books such as these do not facilitate learning. When you spend time reading these books, you spend time trying to satisfy a person, the paper evaluator. 

The much criticized examination pattern and the unworthy-of-a-read local author books go well together. It is almost as though the intention of the author is not to make the student understand but to only show him a way to crack the examination.

What is flawed with the examination?

• The pattern allows you to skip about a third of the entire syllabus and still get an A. That tells a lot.
• It evidently fails to test the thinking capabilities of the student. It tests only what the student remembers and not what she/he has learnt. 
• Questions score in ambiguity and fail in specificity. One walks out of the examination hall way too often wondering if what she/he had answered was what she/he was asked for. 
• Specificity in one's answer is equally vital. A student goes all out and unleashes every dog when she/he is unsure of what is required of her/him. This is when students come up with exceedingly long, irrelevant answers.

LABs and AU examinations make a good combination. This is what makes the flawed system well established. The criticized but seemingly unquestioned system is severely outdated and requires a revamp. 

A change in the pattern of examination could bring about a change for the better as the examinations influence so many other factors. Most notably :

• It could get rid of the stereotypical LABs. Local authors would start producing better books.
• It could bring about a change from the current exam-oriented teaching style. 
• The new pattern could be such that it judges a student by his intelligence and not by his memory.
• A good change would silence the critics.

Preparing for an examination needn't be a burden after all. A change could well establish learning as an enjoyable experience and produce better engineers from its students. 

Raanjhanaa Music Review

The Mozart of Madras is in the news again for his latest album, Raanjhanaa. Raanjhanaa sees Rahman teaming up with director Anand Rai (of Tanu Weds Manu fame). The movie marks the dream debut for Dhanush in Bollywood. Sonam Kapoor plays the female lead in this movie. 

Rahman's last Hindi album, Jab Tak Hai Jaan wasn't very well received (though personally, I'm a fan). His latest album has a lot to offer in every sense. 

  

The album consists of 9 songs, 8 penned by Irshad Kamil and one instrumental.
Rahman pays tribute to Ustad Bismillah Khan with Shenai interludes in all the songs.

Raanjhanaa, the title track of the movie begins in typical Rahman style with plain vocals by renowned Ghazal singer, Jaswinder Singh. Fast paced beats and a Shenai interlude follow. Shiraz Uppal does a neat job, lending just the voice the song needs. Raanjhanaa hun tera is the phrase to hum for the fans. The fast paced song sets in a happy mood, Dhanush performs and dances like never before in the visuals. The song is perfect start to an album that has so much more to offer. Thumbs up!

The second, Banarasiya begins with a beautiful violin piece. Soon, the song takes the Classical route with Tabla beats and Veena / Flute interludes. You know you are in for a treat right away when Shreya Ghosal sings for Rahman. Anwesha Datta, the other vocalist has come a long way from her first reality show, 4 years ago. Her mellifluous voice along with Shreya's is a delight to listen to. They pull off the difficult phrases gracefully together. This is that song of a Rahman album that grows on you on repeated hearings. Thumbs up again!

Right into business with electronic drum beats and piano backing is Piya Milenge. The swaras remind one of Yaakai Thiri, the true fan would go GaGaSa after NiSa. Tabla beats soon follow to give this song a 'fusion' feel. Sukhwinder Singh is brilliant on the vocals, never has he not been. The KMMC Sufi Ensemble performs splendidly. The fast swaras backed by a violin piece are the highlight of the song. The Sufi-fusion sounds like a transformation song of sorts for the hero. Pick of the album. And yes of course, Thumbs up! 

Ay Sakhi rendered by Madhushree, Chinmayi, Vaishali and Aanchal Sethi is the next song of the album. It takes the route that Banarasiya from the same album does. You wonder if it was Sadhana Sargam you just heard, for a moment. Vaishali or Aanchal it was. Vocal interludes are interesting and unique. The song is probably meant to work on screen. 5 or 6 hearings and the typical fan isn't impressed yet. 

Nazar Laaye begins with an acoustic guitar piece in western style and stays true to its beginning all through unlike the other numbers. Rashid Ali renders with a husky voice. Neeti performs aptly. It is that light hearted romantic number that every Bollywood romance has. So call it the "breezy romantic number"? Fine. Thumbs up? Nah, for the song doesn't offer anything new. Such is the benchmark Rahman creates.

Tu Mun Shudi commences with techno beats. Rahman does the vocals along with Rabbi (of Challa fame). Rabbi's deft rendition lifts the song up. The refrain Hamse wafeiyein na appeals to the listener quickly. The phrase Tu Mun Shudi feels out of place for a moment initially but soon merges in well. 

Rahman goes jazz. Aisa na dekho is rendered by the composer himself. The 'Indian listener' feels the weirdness of the genre instantly. Give the song repeated hearings just the way you did to Rehna Tu from Delhi 6. The song is a potential trendsetter. The tiny jazzy accordion interludes fit in perfectly, sublimely adding to the grace of the song. The song was meant to be sung by A R Rahman for only he can interpret some of his compositions. Thumbs up!

The Land of Shiva is an instrumental song. Live Aarti chants recorded by the director while shooting have been incorporated in this song (source : wikipedia). The Udukkai beats are energetic. The one minute piece sounds spiritual as the name suggests. The song is probably part of the BGM. 

The Javed Ali - Rahman duo has never disappointed. The album touches its highest point in its final song. Like three other songs in the album, the song is quick to take the classical route. This is the song where the hero starts going behind his girl. Javed Ali's rendition is spot on. Keerthi and Pooja, the other singers of the song do their parts well. The tabla beats keep up the spirit of the song all through. There are no dull moments in this song, for it has the Rahman flavour right from the word go. The song, released as a single a month before the album's release, is topping the charts already. Thumbs up!

At the end of the 38 minute album, you only wonder how this man pulls it off every time. The music is definitely a high point in the movie.
If Rockstar proved Rahman's prowess in the western genre, Raanjhanaa does in the Indian classical genre.
Raanjhanaa has all the makings of a super hit album.

N Srinivasan Case : Is the media acting ethically?

'They' said media sensationalized news. I wasn't a true believer of that until recently. The recent uproar against Narayanaswami Srinivasan, president of the BCCI stands testimony to what 'they' said. The content of this article is purely my opinion and based on personal conviction.

The media has the freedom to write, freedom to question, freedom to demand (and?) the freedom to incept. They (media people) represent us, hence, that deprives us of the right to question them. So this gives the media the power to choose a topic, blow it to the required proportion and incept it in the common man's minds. And what does the common man do? Get carried away.

Three RR players arrested for fixing games against their home side, breaking news "Royal Shame". Vindhoo Dara Singh found to be a middleman for betting, breaking news "Vindoo links to IPL betting". CSK owner Gurunath Meyapaan arrested for betting, breaking news ("Guru arrested for betting"?, partly yes), main breaking news "N Srinivasan vs Rest of India".
An 'outsider', just introduced to the issue prevailing would probably see clearly that logic takes a slight beating in the third case. The three incidents by themselves have succeeded in kindling the common man's anger against the RR players, Vindhoo and Gurunath. His rage against BCCI president N Srinivasan is however questionable.
The 'outsider' would realize that the media has shifted tracks from the issue that was initially under the spotlight, spot fixing. The new track leads to N Srinivasan's resignation.

And that too all day long, this is not a national crisis situation. 

The media seems to have taken inspiration from remarks by individuals who are perhaps waiting to dethrone the president. You know there is something wrong when even Lalit Modi takes the side of the media and calls for the resignation of the president.

                       

Even Modi gets to comment on this, why put him in front of the camera? 

While the media has failed to unite the nation on issues such as the Coal-gate scam (a scam involving thousands of crores), the very recent Naxalite attack on Congress MPs, it has succeeded in uniting a nation against the president of the Cricket Board whose son in law was allegedly  involved in betting on matches. The Naxalite attack, though a hugely depressing one, provided a much needed relief from the media hounding. It was however, shortlived. Arnab Goswami was headstrong about resuming the temporarily paused discussion. (Not hitting out at him, big fan)

It is indeed important for the media to prioritize content. Thousands of other issues prevail as the Mumbai Crime Branch carries out investigation on the betting row. These issues have clearly been taken backstage for now.

I am not taking N Srinivasan's side. I wouldn't be surprised if there is evidence against him two weeks later.  I only believe "As much as the media has the power to bring about a change for the good, it has the power to divert attention and manipulate." (the ongoing happenings are clear proof).

Mariyaan Music Review

The wait starts when the announcement is made that A R Rahman would be scoring the music for the film. The excitement begins there for crores of his fans. The fact that he lives upto the expectations of almost all his fans in every album of his makes him the finest composer of our time. The wait isn't short. It is atleast a year after the announcement is made.
It has almost been a year. Mariyaan, is the latest offering from the Mozart of Madras. The movie directed by Bharatbala stars Dhanush and Parvathi Menon in lead roles. So what does the new album have to offer? Find out here!

The album consists of seven songs penned by Vaali, Kutti Revathi, Kabilan, Dhanush, Blaaze and Rahman himself.

The album begins with Nenje Ezhu. Crooned by the man himself, the song was released as a single track a week before the album's release. The song begins with simple drum beats, chords and chimes. Rahman takes  stage with Aayiram sooriyan suttalum.. The very first line of the album reminds one of melum melum urugi urugi  from Mannipaaya. But don't be deceived. The song is quick to charm the listener. The refrain Nenje Ezhu is definitely the phrase to hum for the fans. Rahman reaches high notes effortlessly even after the transpose is increased. His soft yet powerful rendition of the song makes him the best choice for it. The song gives a "I've heard something similar" feeling in some places, but when coupled with the visuals (reportedly shot in off coastal deserts), it is indeed going to be a treat!

Innum konja neram is the second track sung by Vijay Prakash and Swetha Mohan. The song opens with an Accordian piece backed with Ghatam beats. Vijay Prakash's voice is a delight to listen to as he goes Innum Konjam Neram... Swetha Mohan soon joins proceedings and performs beautifully, as expected. Her husky rendition is just what the song needs. Lyrically, it is a conversation between two lovers, sublimely composed. Rahman has a new favourite instrument in the Accordian. The hit from his previous album, Nenjukulle, had similar interludes. Rahman along with Kabilan has penned lyrics for this song. Close your eyes and listen to this track for it is sure to grow on you on repeated hearings. A thumbs up for this excellent track!

Vijay Prakash gets to sing another track in the album. Netru Aval is another 'pleasure to listen to' duet song. Rahman's find Chinmayee croons the female portions finely. Vijay Prakash gets you in the mood for a romantic treat right away. His voice deserves a mention again in this track. The phrase Aagayathil nuru gives goosebumps as high notes are reached. Vaali comes out with enchanting lyrics. Towards the end, going a transpose higher and touching the higher notes end the song on a high. The song has the Rahman stamp all over it. Close your eyes again for this song to find yourself in a different world! My pick of the album!

If you thought this album was taking to the romantic side a bit too much, you will be surprised. Haricharan and Javed Ali come together for Sonapareeya, a fast paced number. The first teaser of the film featured background music from this track. The singers deliver energitically as required. Nakash Aziz does well a small rap portion. It is hard not to enjoy this song. However the song doesn't offer anything new in terms of tune and feel. We don't want every song of Rahman's to be unique, do we?

Enga Pona Raasa, the next track is an unplugged track by itself. Backed by acoustic guitar, Shakthishree Gopalan (of Nenjukulle fame) does a neat job. Her husky rendition is similar to the other female singers' of the album. Rahman has written the lyrics for this song. The song depicts the heroine's longing for her guy. The song would probably have an added appeal on screen.

I love my Africa. Blaaze and Rahman have sung this song. But later did I hear the third voice. The chorus verses have been performed by the Madras Youth Choir (a popular choir group in the city which I had gotten into and later discontinued). Feel for that now! That apart, the African beats coupled with Blaaze's rap portions make this an interesting track!

Now, it came as a surprise when we were informed that Yuvan had been chosen to sing a song for Rahman's latest. Rahman pointed out he had opted for Yuvan for his rustic voice. It still didn't seem as a good option. But he surprises us. Yuvan surprisingly delivers well without pitching issues. He renders well but it isn't very obvious why he had to be the only choice. The beat sounds like a lift from Arjunuru villu (from Gilli). However, the Nadhaswaram interludes and the change in beats midway cover it. The song is fast paced but fails to deliver at a higher level. Listen to the track for its pace, the good interludes and the beats. The song is otherwise run of the mill and not what we want from Rahman.

That sums up Rahman's latest album. The fans (includes me) are going to love it. They were going to, anyway. The first three songs are excellent. None of the other tracks disappoint.
The album obviously isn't his finest. It is in fact similar to his recent album Kadal on some levels. Nevertheless, A R Rahman's latest lives upto the expectations, in style. He has delivered a fine album that is definitely going to top the charts for the next few months!

One twenty? No, one 'twenty'

                                                      

That's how you bargain at Chinatown and Downtown in Kuala Lumpur. The term 'Downtown' might be misleading, it usually refers to the posh areas in top cities. However the 'Downtown' here as it is referred to by locals, offers roadside shopping.
There are three rules to be followed while shopping in these places.
1 .Bargain
2. Bargain more
3. Bargain even more.
Both markets have almost every possible purchasable item known. They draw their own crowd. Shops aren't usually exclusive for one item. There are hundreds of competitors in the same market. Don't write them off, these people are professional in their own way, they are efficient entrepreneurs. They know what works in their business. For instance, just as it began to pour, as I started running to my car, calling out to me was a shopkeeper, "Umbrella for 20 MR. Bargain-able!", the interesting fact being the shopkeeper saying that he is open to a bargain even before the customer reacts.

Chinatown is the Malaysian home for 'Made in China' goods. One doesn't need an explanation for what holds in store there. It is the workplace of hundreds of vendors (who smoke as they work). "Now beware of the sellers here" a local friend of mine had warned. The sellers take to the knife if a purchase is not made after a long bargain!

Downtown offers a comparable experience in a slightly different way. It is a good example of the night life prevailing there. Shops open around 8 in the night and go on till 3 or 4 the next morning depending on the crowd. Couples walk in hand in hand at midnight.  The vendors here mostly work part time. Shops are set up in identical tents but they are distinct on the inside. These vendors are comparitively less aggressive, they don't hide knives.

"Each purchase is an act of mutual understanding between the customer and the vendor. The vendor clearly knows that he over-quotes his item, so does the customer realise that. The initial rates are similar to the ones quoted by Tamil Nadu auto-men to foreign tourists. Exorbitant."

In Chinatown, calculators break the language barrier. Conversations with vendors bear only numbers. A calculator can help accomplish that. So this is how you go, you first point at the desired item. The vendor types in a number (his initial quote in Ringgits) on the calculator and hovers his hand over the 'minus symbol' suggesting a prospective bargain, a definite bargain. You press the minus symbol and make the desired reduction in rate. If my observation is anything to go by, typical bargains end somewhere lesser than midway between the customer and the vendor, the consumer being on the left. This is how an unsuccessful bargain went,
"Black bag" <pointing at it>
"That will be 120MR madam." <'madam' being my mother>
"No, one 'twenty'"
"No madam" <nods no and performs a calculation on the calculator 120-35=85> .
<End of conversation>

At the Downtown, bargaining is not an easy task. The old lady at the 'bag store' was headstrong about the 'green bag' costing 30 MR. There was no room for bargain because the bag was 'water proof and made of 100% leather'. She was generous enough to reduce 5MR each for the other bags we purchased.
It is just the place for ladies crazy about shopping. The shops offer highly fashionable stuff in 'striking colours' as preferred by the locals there.
There are the restaurants that stay open till 3am. There are no competitors here, each restaurant offers a specific food item. There is no menu card, the only item available is clearly identifiable. It is hard for a vegetarian to get stuff to eat in there. He/She could get a cup of  'cut guava' for 2MR, and get more to make a meal. Then there are these shops that sell electronic goods. These goods are packed to perfection, replicating the original packaging. 'Beats Audio' for 15MR! No wonder most music-listeners in the city sport one of them.

Chinatown is the more popular of the two, drawing more foreign customers. Downtown is more restricted to the locals. Nevertheless both these places offer distinct yet enjoyable shopping experiences! So don't forget the extra bag when you plan a trip to KL, for it is sure to become full. Happy shopping!

The crowded streets in Chinatown

The tents in Downtown, closed in the day

No Parking!

#3
The incident described in this article happened a few months ago, when we had dropped by at a relative's place. The place located in a narrow street in Mylapore, had no room for cars to be parked. Parking the car contiguous to the street was ritualistic until then.

An hour after the car was parked, it was missing. The car had either disappeared or been towed by the police, the latter being much more probable. Being my sister's month old car, she was startled. The 'guy at the iron shop' had closed for lunch for the hour and had no clue where the car was. I wasn't shocked, unlike my sister. For me, it was partially exciting for I knew it was a game with the police. And so, we enquired among people who could have seen the car being taken away, no one had any idea. Common sense suggested we could enquire at the nearest police station and so, I along with my father and sister, in my dad's car drove to the Mylapore police station.

'The officer at the entrance' showed us in. The men there were dispersing for lunch and lead us to the Traffic Police department in the first floor. The sight of the first floor left my sister in a daze for it shared a striking similarity to a men's changing room , there was only one police constable in that floor and he was busy with his lunch. As we walked back down, the 'officer at the entrance' suggested we go check at the beach or at the next nearest police station. The next nearest was by my place. And so we drove to the Abhiramapuram police station. The officers there were done with lunch, and they listened to my father with interest. "My car was parked by the street around 11 and .....". They seemed like the better officers at that moment. They suggested we call the control room, and gave us the number. The line was busy.

And there we stood, right before the police station having no idea where the brand new car had been taken. It was not parked in a 'No Parking' zone.  Moreover, it wasn't the idea of the second to park it at that spot. Highly frustrated but keeping his cool was my dad. Just as we decided to go to the beach to look for the car, an attempt to reach the control room succeeded. My sister explained solicitously to the 'officer on the line', "It wasn't parked in a No Parking zone, it is a brand new car". Calling back after five minutes, the 'officer on the line' confirmed that a car towed matching the mentioned description had been taken to the beach or The Music Academy junction.

The MA was the next spot. From a distance, my sister spotted her car parked under the flyover next to the towing van and a traffic police officer. Parking the car haphazardly, my father, and sister got off the car. I used the opportunity to enhance my parking skills and parked the car better.

Frustrated and heaving a sigh of relief at the sight of her car, she interrogated 'the officer' why her car had been towed. "The Governor had to pass by the road". That was the answer. Disgusted by the hasty response, my dad asked why there was no information left about where the car was being taken. He wanted answers for the hour we had just spent in agony. "Governor varam bodhu car ah nirithna apdi dhan pannuvom" were the words of reply.  The calm was lost. My dad wanted legitimate answers. After a few heated exchanges, the police officer fetched the key, didn't unlock the wheel yet. He had just taken his billing machine out. Demanding a fine of 500 from us, he carried on billing. My father stopped him from doing so. He wasn't ready to pay the fine, not for the amount, but because there was no wrong on our side. When asked what the fine was for, he replied it was for the car being parked on the road when the Governor passed by. When we argued it wasn't a 'No Parking' zone, he hastily said it wasn't a Parking Zone. Looks like there is something that we have all missed between Parking and No Parking.
This led me to these inferences : Never park your car in a place that does not have a 'Parking' sign. Paste your personal contact details on the windshield of the car to make it easier for the police to reach you. (sarcastic suggestion by the officer)

Balked at the purpose of the fine, my father refused, 'the officer' contemptuously replied he wouldn't release the car. The disrespectful comments infuriated me. I decided to take help from my 'influential friend'. I knew I wasn't taking advantage for there was no wrongdoing on my side and for we had been treated crudely. I remember shrieking at one of the police officer's harsh remarks before I decided to take it to my friend. The 'influential friend' was quick to respond. All he wanted to know was the name of the police officer. I could see my father succumbing to the officer's demands as I was on the line, I shouted from a distance asking him to wait. I didn't want it to be an episode where the police officer had his way even when he was on the wrong side.
The officer threatened to move the car to the beach if the fine wasn't paid immediately.
It all had to happen at the same moment, as my father drew currency notes out of his wallet (to pay the fine), as the policeman re-towed the car, came a phone call. 'The officer' responded with respect on the line. It was from an authoritative person. I do not take pride in saying this, again, I hadn't taken advantage of my friend's resources.
It is stupefying what a phone call can do. The police officer, who showed no signs of respect until then unlocked the wheel and had just three words to say and I quote "Kavalthurai Ungal Nanban".

Had the 'infuential friend' not been there, we would have had to accede to the police officer. This is not thanking the friend. "Why did my car which was parked very much in the corner have to be moved for the Governor to pass by?, Why did the officer show such baffling disrespect?, Why were we asked to pay a fine!" are the unanswered questions.
British prime minister David Cameron took to the Metro Rail after a speech of his a few years back, while the Governor here requires a convoy and the road to be cleared to make it through the way. The police officer was definitely not a friend as he had claimed.
Thoughts about our country being a politically bad one flooded me that day. I respect policemen, it would be wrong to judge them with one incident.
Unwilling to indulge in any further exchange with the police officer, we returned to the relative's place for the special lunch.

Meeting the Superstar

#2

Not many get the opportunity. I am one among the very few fans who was fortunate enough to meet the Superstar, yes Rajinikanth. It is amazing how his real life is so different from what we get to see on screen. It is stardom that many have only dreamt of. Yet, that dosen't show in his real life persona.

Rajinikanth is clearly a league above stars of his level in the sister industries. So how did I get to meet him? It was 2010 when I was in my 11th grade. GVC (Group Vocational Course) was a subject we had in school. We hardly had GVC classes as most of them were converted to English classes as the same teacher was incharge of both subjects. We had to do a project for the dumbest subject we had. The topic goes 'Living Legends'. It was an insignificant project for an unimportant subject. Scribblings on sheets of paper torn from books could make an 'A' grade GVC project. But we had different ideas. Yes Rajinikanth was our Living Legend and we met him as part of the project. The project had to be done in teams of four. Teams were chosen based on that day's seating arrangement and that is where luck favoured me. Hareshwar, a classmate (son of a very influential person) found himself sitting next to me unusually. He was a back bencher. He had come next to me only because the guy who usually sat there was absent on that day. He could get almost anything done. Want to meet Rajinikanth? Yeah done.

So that's how we got to meet him. I readied the project in half an hour as I got home that day. Yes I had scribbled too but on A4 sheets. Three sheets that contained a quarter of Rajinikanth's Wikipedia page made my project. It was enveloped with a beautiful poster from his yet-to-be-released- movie then, Endhiran.
On the following day as I walked into the classroom, I was surprised to see Hareshwar come to school so early. He was known for the drama he created in the first period having come late. He told me and my fellow team guys who had just arrived "We are going to meet Rajini at 10". The three of us gave cliched reactions, "Apdiya?" "Epidi da?" "Dei sama da!".

And so we walked out of the class (individually like a boss) at 9. We were given permission by the principal to leave the campus. We were on a roll. As I said, Hareshwar had extrordinary resources.
Raghavendra Kalyana Mandapam was where Rajinikanth had his meditation sessions. We were scheduled to meet him there right after his session. We walked into a room in the top most floor of the building accompanied by police constables. The room had two doors both of which were closed as we sat there waiting for the Superstar to finish meditating. We were given glasses of Lassi when the 'other door' was opened, opened by..... Rajinikanth. He glanced at the four of us dressed in school uniform and said, "Wanga" in typical Rajini style and shook hands with each one of us.

Superstar shaking hands after entering from the 'other door'

And so we walked into his meditation hall. Dressed in a plain White Kurta, with rubber slippers and wearing a watch with 'Om' written in the dial, stood Rajinikanth as the 'influential father' reminded Rajinikanth of his first meeting with him.
It truly isn't exaggeration when people cite him as an example for the epitome of simplicity.

It was time to show our project. Embarrassed, I handed over the file to Rajini. He smiled at the cover picture and quickly turned through the three pages. It contained nothing that could surprise him. He signed on the cover page as new ideas popped into my mind now. We were going to add another page to the biggest project ever, an Interview with Rajini. Responding to my friend's query about the secret of his success he replied saying it was sheer hard work and about using opportunities as and when they come. When I asked him what his advice to his fans would be, he said it is important to always try to be the best in what you do, one should never feel inferior and should have faith in god. He took these questions very seriously. When asked, he listened carefully with a shrunken forehead. We didn't ask him anything new, yet he listened and answered with interest.
It was time to click some pictures with the Superstar. The four of us stood next to him, two on either side. After two clicks he suggested we could come individually and that he had the time. It was now a dream come true. The photographer couldn't resist asking Rajini for a click and Rajini gladly agreed with a smiling face.

It is not for his kind gestures that I call him simple and down to earth. It is for everything that I had seen. Right from the way the man dressed to the manner in which he spoke to us, it was clear the Superstar is a simple person. He probably feels what he has achieved is nothing extrordinary and that his stardom is a gift from god. He is the most celebrated person in the country. His then-upcoming movie was the biggest in the continent. Nothing showed. He was like an ordinary person, a star who had surrendered to some power above him that he had seen.

The fifteen minutes I still cherish had come to an end. He walked out of the room waving at us, down the stairs and into his Ambassador car.

The legendary team with Rajinikanth, the second one from the left being Hareshwar.

Giving a title is harder than writing an article # 1

#1
This is my first blog. I don't have any experience as a writer. I am open to any comments from people reading this blog. Criticism and suggestions will be much appreciated.

The one and a half hour - journey back from my college had just started. The traffic was on an unusual high that day. Hot and humid with the summer just starting to set in, inside the bus sat forty odd people waiting for the traffic to clear. I sat at my usual place in the sixth row with my leg folded against the seat in front of me. 'The guy with the curly hair' was sitting next to me sleepy. Reacting to a text he had just received, he shouted "Machan one week leave da!" It was sudden joy. None of us could take it in immediately. My college works under any situation. But what had happened? What had caused my college to close down for a week? As most of us pondered over these questions, we heard that all colleges in the state had been ordered to shut down as part of the Tamil Eelam protests.
Students had begun protesting. We pass by atleast 10 colleges on our way back in the OMR. Students sat at the entrance of a famous college which we pass by protesting. They had posters and placards. It was like it was already planned. That sight made me wonder if the students were really into such political situations. Were they?
The joy of knowing that the next few days were off was special. I celebrated that night with a long drive in OMR . And no there weren't any student protesters at that time. I planned to use the week off productively. I knew the next few weeks were going to be hectic. But as things turned out, neither did I use the week productively nor did the colleges re-open the following week.
Next Monday it was, as I woke up I saw infront of me yet another week off. "I just have to spend this week productively." I said to myself. Not caring to brush, I spoke to my parents about In-plant Training programmes and how I wanted to do something different. This wasn't new to them. They were familiar with this side of me which wanted to do something different once in a while. It was just a morning talk. None of us bothered to talk about it later. But I had serious plans. I wanted to study, it had been quite a while since I did. So did I open my book right after lunch. Some things never fail to happen. I never fail to fall asleep on my book after lunch. After waking up two hours later I ended up reading articles like "How to stay awake after lunch".
Social networking, texting, reading confession pages were part of daily life now.
Friends from other colleges in the state had come to the city. It was time to meet up, game and have some fun! And that is exactly what we did. But as the week drew to a close, I was left wondering with the same question. Why did we have so many days off? Were the students really involved in this? I had read only 10% of the students protested. I inquired how it would be if the rest protested for the colleges to re-open. I kept this revolutionary idea to myself. I had gotten into the habit of lazing around quite nicely and I didn't want to give up on that.
Mid week it was. News channels had gotten into the act questioning the reason for colleges to remain closed. "Students on an indefinite holiday streak", "Colleges remain shut" were the phrases of the hour. For us students at this point in time, it was joy combined with anxiety for by then all of us knew tough days were ahead as soon as the colleges re-opened. My college authorities were as clueless as its students were. None knew what was going on. Results were out all of a sudden. I got grades that I didn't expect. (No, in a bad way)
There were posts on social networking sites now that said students were solicitously waiting for colleges to re-open. I honestly wasn't. I liked the situation I was in all through.
But the fact that a small group of people could manipulate big decisions was a thing to worry about. As my father told me, the truth is out of the 10% that took to the streets to protest a very small percentage knew what they were actually doing. For the rest it was just fun. It isn't such a major thing here after all to shut down more than 500 colleges in the state. The decision by the government was probably an act of over-cautiousness.
Finally colleges are set to re-open. I am no way waiting for it to open but I know I should be. 11 working days aren't easy to compensate at the college level. All weekends henceforth in the current semester are going to be working weekends. Am I worrying about the tough days ahead? Actually no. I have a 'totally worth it' feeling inside me now and hope I don't mind sweating it out over the next few weeks.