I received quite an interesting mail on someone's experience with Chennai MTC bus service. I repeat below the message:

Quote:----

Useful to persons who travel in MTC (Metropolitan Transport
Corporation) buses....

SAFETY IN BUSES

TRUE INCIDENT by Ranjani - Useful for people traveling on Chennai buses!!

" I m working in Chennai (Thoraipakkam), Chennai. I usually travel by
Metropolitan Transport Corporation (MTC) bus, from jain college stop
(Which is near to my office) to Tidel park and from Tidel park I
catch the train, to home. MTC bus coming from Kelambakkam(19B,21H)
mostly wont stop in Tidel park in the early days. So I usually prefer
to get into T51 bus, which will stop at Tidel park stop. After some
time 19B started stopping in Tidel park also.

Today while returning from office at around 8.30 pm, I was in a hurry
to catch my 9.28 pm train at Tidel park. I got in a bus(19B) in Jain
College at around 8.45 pm, and asked the conductor to give a ticket
for Tidel park stop. He said, the bus won't stop there, and he asked
me to get down at signal if it stops there or else get down at the
stop next to Tidel park. I was arguing with him that I am going daily
with the same bus and get down at the tidel park stop. But he kept on
saying the same thing..
I got frightened with conductor response. Suddenly I remembered a
complaint phone no.(9884301013) I read in one bus sometime back and
noted down in my mobile. I called that No. and said about the
incident that the conductor is not stopping at the usual stop.

The MTC representative (person at the other end) asked me to give the
phone to the conductor. The conductor was not interested to talking
with this official. The MTC rep. asked me the bus no. He enquired
where is the bus at that time and I said it is in Kandhanchavadi. The
MTC rep said he will come in the line and talk to them. I was curious
how he will come and catch the bus.

After few mins a voice through the wireless transmeter/receiver (to
track the bus), near the driver in the bus started booming ...
"Driver stop the bus. Driver stop the bus on the left side of the
road." Driver was not sure what was happening may be his first
experience, for others (including me) it surely was the first
experience. The driver stopped the bus and listened to the
transmitter. The MTC rep. enquired why the bus is not stopping at the
Tidel park stop. The driver said he stops at Tidel park stop and in
the previous trip also he had done it. The rep. asked him then why
the conductor is saying like that. He asked the conductor what is the
issue. The conductor was frightened and was speechless. The driver
somehow pacified the official and managed the situation and supported
the conductor by saying that the conductor was new to this route. The
driver asked for being excused for the incident and said he will stop
at the Tidel Park stop.

The MTC rep. said he wanted to talk the passenger who called him. I
went near the transmitter and spoke to the MTC rep. He said sorry for
the what had happened and asked sorry on behalf of MTC. Everyone in
the bus was utterly surprised of things happening. I came back to my
seat and I was so embarrassed as all were looking at me. Few
passengers asked me what is the number, and whom I called. They also
took the number. The bus stopped at Tidel Park stop then. After
getting down I called the MTC rep. and said the bus stopped at the
stop.

It was a an elevating and nice experience for me and others who
traveled in the bus, including the driver and conductor and I was very
surprised after this incident as all buses are tracked. Yes, nowadays
good things are happening in government sector also and technology is
used properly."

Complaint Phone no. for Chennai MTC bus:
9884301013,9445030516,9383337639 ( Chennai)

Beats me why the media doesn't cover such technological introductions ......

............. Unquote

A Short Story: "There is no coincidence in life"

There is no coincidence in life.

I learnt it the very hard way. I am a night’s owl; ‘late to bed and late to rise’ is my policy. My wife Thangam is my opposite. She is somewhat orthodox too. She wakes up very early. Even while listening to the traditional ‘Venkatesa Suprabatham’ and ‘Vishnu Sahasranamam’ rendered by M.S.Subbulakshmi, she would finish all her daily chores – including taking bath, cutting vegetables, and finishing cooking. In the meantime, she would have woken up my seven year old daughter Suneeta – another lazy fox like me, prepared her for her early morning school and be ready to drop her in the bus stop for the school bus. In between, she needs to make steaming coffee for me while I immerse myself in the daily newspapers. She would also polish my shoes everyday and keep in shining – that is the way I like. She has also to keep my dresses ready for me to put on whenever I am ready; I have no patience to decide these things on my own. Thanks to the municipal water supply which is generally erratic and occasionally regular on some days, she would be busy filling up drinking water in all small to big vessels; you may remember the ‘Wagle ki dunia’ Hindi serial telecast by Doordarshan years ago. Most regularly, she has also to answer all types of street vendors selling a host of daily needs. All in the morning!

She does all these things herself never once complaining. I have never seen her feeling irritated or restless. I am her opposite. I never have the inclination for household work. I would invariably be spending all my morning time reading newspapers –front to back – watch the morning TV news in at least three or four channels – as though there were new products for display in every TV channel, take my bath at leisure – my daily shave and bath would take away a large chunk of my morning time – hurriedly put on my dress, gulp my morning breakfast and dash off to office.

“Prem! Can you help me? Today, Suneeta seems to be on strike! Unrelenting! She is refusing to get ready for her school. Whatever happened to her?” The rice cooker was blowing whistle loudly as Thangam called out from kitchen.

“O, come on Thangam! You know I have no time. Give her a good blow. She would behave all right.” I shouted back without taking my eyes from my newspapers.

Today, I was extraordinarily late. There was a late night English movie on HBO channel last night. My favorite Tom Hanks was there and the movie took its own time to finish, thanks to the intermittent advertisements. I went to bed very late. Besides I had to work overtime to finish some reports as some higher-up was visiting our office today. Everyone was expected to arrive at the office half an hour earlier than usual. Now I had to rush. I could only cursorily go through my newspapers. I had to sacrifice my watching TV news. I had no time for anything else.

Today even my razor struck work. I cut myself repeatedly before I finished shaving. I had a quick bath, put on my dress, gulped a few ‘idlis’, put on my shoes, collected my afternoon lunch pack and stepped out.

‘Churrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr……..’

I skidded when I stepped into the wet outside verandah making a loud noise. I fell flat heavily on my back, the back of my head hitting the floor with a loud ‘thud’ noise. I felt my backbone broke into pieces. With a loud cry, I shouted for Thangam, “You demon! Come here! See what you have made of me!”

My office bag and lunch box had flown off splashing out its contents everywhere. Food from the lunch box spilled all over me. My dress was painted with the color of mud and food stuff.

Hearing the sound, Thangam came running, “Oh, dear! What happened?”

“What happened? ............. You spoiled my day ………….. You spoiled my dress ………….. Did you find the time only today, to soap-wash the verandah? See my condition!” I showered mouthful of abuses on Thangam even as she tried to lift me with all her might.

“Please don’t shout….everything is going to be all right…. Please come inside.” She lifted me. Using her both hands as crutches, I limped back inside my house.

I groaned with pain. Thangam found traces of blood on back of my head. “I think we should rush to a doctor. You are already bleeding.” Without even waiting for my reaction, she called a hire-auto over the phone.

I continued to heap abuses on her. “You idiot! Today is very important to me in my office. A higher-up is visiting and I need to be there. You will be spoiling my name in the office. Now you are delaying me further by trying to take me to a doctor. I know everything will be all right. I will go to the doctor in the evening.” Saying this, I tried to get up, but slumped back into my bed. I felt as though my back had crashed and got powdered completely.

Without even waiting for me, she called my manager over phone and explained the situation assuring him that she will call back after meeting the doctor. The auto arrived. With her help, I managed to take a few steps and we were off to the hospital. All the way, I was moaning, grumbling, and lamenting. The pain shot up every now and then when the autorickshaw jumped over a pot-hole or a bump – there were many on the way – I cried out, ‘What evil time had befallen me?’ In my pain, a terrible vision of my losing job just flashed through my mind and I cried aloud, ‘Oh, God, No!’

“Why are you torturing yourself? Why can’t you please bear with the pain for a little more time?” Thangam tried to console me.

“Why won’t you say that? If you were in my position, you would understand how crucial it is for me to be in the office. You know I am expecting a promotion shortly. My Senior Manager who has to recommend me is visiting office. Now, the chance is gone. You are a fool and illiterate. What do you understand? You have spoiled my chances of promotion…………….” I once again criticized her for causing my fall today. She was quiet and unruffled. Exasperatedly, I shouted again unmindful that we were in a public hire-auto, “You, silent bitch! Why don’t you say something about your fault? Why are you torturing me with your silence?”

We reached the hospital and an emergency doctor examined me. He felt my condition could be severe and might need immediate surgery. He immediately arranged for admitting me in the emergency ward and sent messages for senior doctors. My protests were silenced by him. Some tranquilizer and pain killer tablets I was administered had some soothing effect and I became quiet. I later came to know that my wife had spoken to my Manager about my head injury and the severity of the damage to my spine, the need for hospitalization and the possibility of my remaining immobile for some time. My Manager seemed to have been frustrated that I wouldn’t be available for the day when my Senior Manager was visiting the office, but accepted the reality as something not under anybody’s control.

In the meantime, Thangam had gone back home to finish remaining chores at home and returned before orthopedic doctors and neuro-specialists arrived. They sent me for series of examinations – X-ray, scan, MRI and many others – and concluded that my head injury was only minor, but the condition of my back was something to be concerned with. In between she returned home twice, once to bring my lunch and again to be there when Suneeta returned home from school.

I was only half conscious during the day. In the evening I felt better and the pain appeared to have subsided somewhat. Other than a big sized plaster on my head, I appeared physically normal. I was able to move at least my hands slightly. I was told that the doctors were going to perform a surgery within the next two or three days for my back and that I would need to rest in bed for a month or before I could resume my normal work.

A wicked thought came to me. ‘It is also a pleasure lying down in bed without having to do anything at all when everyone would be attending to me at my beck and call. I would attract lot of sympathy, especially from my office colleagues. May be, even my Senior Manager would visit me in the hospital and offer me some consolation. Even the hospital expenses might be borne by the office. It would be a kind of paid holiday while I would be taking rest. What a strange luck!’

I grinned at the thought.

In the evening Thangam came back to the hospital with Suneeta. Suneeta came running, climbed on the bed and hugged me lovingly. Thangam was trying to stop her, but Suneeta was already on top of me.

'Oh, dad, I love you so much. I want you to get well soon and come back home.’ Suneeta was in tears. I was deeply disturbed for the first time. What good did I do to this small girl to deserve her love? Before, I could even respond, another doctor came in accompanied by a nurse. He went through his routine and retracted as quickly as he came.

I asked for newspapers to read, but the same was not available immediately. Suneeta raised lot of questions about my accident and my present condition and after some time she left with her mother to attend her tuition classes. The rest of the day passed off without any significant developments.

After dinner, I was tired, the pain in my back returned and I had difficulty in sleeping. When finally I closed my eyes, I didn’t know how long I slept. But I woke up in the middle of night, terribly jolted with a nightmare and I felt as though someone kicked me and shouted at me saying, ‘You rascal! Wake up!’

I was trembling and sweating profusely. What happened to me? I tried to close my eyes and recollect my dream. Slowly the picture came back to me.

                                                                  *****

It happened a couple of decades ago when I was only twelve or so as a school boy.

There was a beautiful river passing very close to our town. It was a perennial river and never became dry. On rainy days, water flowed to the brim with strong current. On all holidays we would be playing around with the running water in the river. Many of my friends would be with me. We would also carry nice cooked variety rice, eat them sitting on the rocks in the middle of the river and then again play in the water. On school days, when my father seriously didn’t object, I would escape to the river with just one or two of my friends. My escapades to the river would also help me in avoiding daily errands from my mother or reprimands from my father who would otherwise sit down with me about my school work. The latter was always a painful process as my father used to screw my ears severely when I went wrong and unfortunately I was mostly wrong about my studies.

It had rained up the hills a few days back and I heard that the river was full. I sneaked out of my house when my father had gone out very early that morning for some important work. Only one friend was free to come with me and we both went to the river. I was filled with joy and thrill when I saw the currents in the running water. The river seemed to have swallowed many parts of the embankments. Disregarding some elders cautioning us, I jumped into the river. I knew swimming well. But that day, even for me, the water current was beyond my powers and I was dragged by the current. I struggled hard and it was fun. My friend decided against getting into deep waters and was satisfied with playing around the banks. We finished off after some time and we were getting late to the school.

We came out of water and dried ourselves. We were ready to leave and suddenly, we heard someone shouting aloud, ‘Oh, please help! My son is drowning in water.” The shout came from somewhere nearby. Puzzled, we looked around. A few bathers were pointing their fingers in some directions and a few others looked on helplessly.

I spotted the boy. He was of medium size and being carried away in the water. I could see him getting drowning in water. Before anyone did anything and before I could even think, I jumped into the water and swam towards the drowning boy. There was some distance and the currents were strong in the middle of the river. I swam fast and still the distance between us was increasing. Many people shouted from the banks. I didn’t care, just kept my pace and tried to use all my energy. From wherever I got my strength, I was trying to close in. The boy ought to be taking in lot of water and I could clearly see him struggling for breath. Luckily for me and what could have been fatal for the boy, he was caught in a twirl and his floating along the river came to a brief halt. That was my chance. I gathered all my strength, went faster nearer to him and just managed to hold his hand. Now, I was getting pulled into the twirl and I could be finished. Now, a few more people too jumped into the river to save us. I didn’t let go of my hold on the boy and I held him still more tightly. I tried to pull him away from the twirl, while his weight was pulling me into the twirl. We both struggled. The boy’s survival instinct ought to have been quite strong; he too held on to my hand very firmly. At one stage, I thought I was drowning myself and tried to set myself free from the boy’s hold; but he was not leaving his hold. The tussle went on and I felt I was almost drowning. I didn’t really know where from I got a spurt in my strength. I made a final attempt to hold his body and pull him away. He couldn’t resist my strength and we just managed to come out of the twirl. By that time, more people had managed to reach us and they all helped us get back to the shore.

Once we were back on the banks we were both given first-aid. I recovered quickly. The boy’s mother came to me and touched my feet. She cried and thanked me profusely for saving his son. Those surrounding locals were all in praise for me, even while some of them criticized for my daredevilry. Feeling elated I returned back home and tried to hurry up to the school. I was already late.

With great satisfaction, while gulping my breakfast, I tried to narrate briefly my day’s bravery at the river to my mother. Her anxiety grew when I was slow with the details, but towards the end, she was gratified about my selfless act. However, I heard my father sneering and shouting from the living room, ‘Oh what a great heroism! Ask that Devil what would have happened if he was drowned in the river! I would be forced to working into my retirement to save the family of five people. Tell him, I expect him to be more responsible to the family than to be good the whole world.’

All my enthusiasm suddenly vanished and I felt bursting like a balloon. My father sucked all my energy and motivation that moment. I was furious. I shouted back, cursed his cynicism, left my plate half-eaten and in a fit of anger I hurriedly left home staring at my father while leaving.

I didn’t look back when I heard my mother pleading with me to come back. I also heard her reprimanding my father for his nonchalant remarks. I didn’t care and I didn’t bother about my not having the lunch bag. I took quick strides and hurried to the school. If I was late, I had to face my headmaster, another bully. He would be cruel with his medieval punishments. I didn’t want any that day.

But who cared, I thought? What did it matter if I had not attended the school that day? I was totally dejected. I thought for a while, how nice it could have been if I was drowned in the river while saving that boy. I would have become a local hero and my name and photos might appear everywhere. I might win some bravery award posthumously. I would have at least earned a name. I wouldn’t have to listen to rebukes from my cynic father. Death could have saved my day, I thought.

I went to the nearby bus stop and waited for the bus. It didn’t bother me the least, when no bus was coming that way at that time. I was reminded of the scene at the river, of how that mother cried and touched my feet, when her son was saved. A small drop of tear shot out of my eyes. My God! My mother would have cried the same way if I was gone in the river. How sad it could have been? Why should I cause such misery and sorrow to my loving mother?

Some sense and balance returned to me while I was waiting for the bus that never came. I saw energy returning to me slowly.

I saw a bulky man waddling slowly towards the bus stop. He appeared a village type –bare bodied and covering his head with white turban. His body movements were funny and he could totter any moment. I chuckled. I imagined the man falling over a slippery banana peel and his dhoti tearing off from his huge pot belly. My imagination ran riot and I burst into a loud laughter.

My goodness! My imagination was coming true that very moment. I saw a banana peel lying right in front of his next step and before I could even think further, he stepped over it and had a huge fall. His body traversed several feet when his dhoti flew off and he was virtually naked except for a small longotti that covered his secret parts. I laughed again, this time with my entire body giggling.

Quickly I realized my mistake, but the damage was already done. Much to my surprise, the man was too quick for his body size. He rose from the ground, snatched his dhoti, deftly wound it round his waist, walked in slow motion to me, stared at me for some time and said, “May you live long!” Before I could respond to him, he moved away muttering something to himself. I looked on with disbelief and soon I was overwhelmed with guilt. Doing nothing, I stood there pitifully.

                                                                   *****

Vividly the whole scene came up before me and startled me. Lying down in the bed, in the mid of the night, I wondered what was the message to me. I tried to roll on the bed, but the pain in my back sent shock waves through my entire body and I cried aloud. The attending nurse came rushing to me to find out what was wrong. She found me groaning and restless on bed. She tried to comfort me with assuaging words and left after some time.

I was lying on the bed, completely awake for the rest of the night. It must be around nine or so in the morning when I was trying to get some sleep. But I was disturbed by one of my office colleagues. What he told me completely shattered me.

                                                                   *****

The previous day, the higher-up had visited our office and was rushing through many routines expected of him during such inspection and my manager was getting stressed out. In the early afternoon, my manager got a call from Velu , in charge of our nearby one-man office saying that one of our big tenders for a particular supply was being considered favorably and could be finalized if I could visit that place immediately. I was in charge of those products in my office and I used to attend to all tender matters. I was in the hospital and in no way, my manager could have sent me over there. He called people at our head office and they had nonchalantly turned down his request for help, but at the same time reminded him that our branch was not running very profitably and that it is up to him to ensure that he got the contract and remained profitable.

Caught between the devil and deep sea, my manager sought permission from the visiting higher-up to go to the nearby office so that he could finalize the contract. But the visiting higher-up was equally unconcerned, wanting to wind up his job that day itself and leave by the early evening. So my manager decided to send my deputy Satya to the nearby office and settle the tender as best as he could. But before Satya could reach that place, the tendering officer had left his office and was not to be available for the rest of the day. So, Satya was forced to stay back in the small guest house cum office. When Satya was having his dinner, Velu seemed to have got a call from his mother that his pregnant wife was having some complications in the hospital and his presence was required immediately. He took permission from Satya to leave the office and attend to his wife. Velu promised to return back as soon as his work in the hospital was over. But he didn’t return for the rest of the night.

Today early in the morning, Satya got up as usual and was brushing his teeth when a huge explosion from the ground floor shook the whole building into rubbles. There was a restaurant in the ground floor and probably from the kitchen, the gas cylinder exploded. Satya was caught in the debris when the building collapsed on him and Velu who was just entering the building was thrown off. While Velu survived with minor bruises, the pitiable Satya lost his life. Hearing the news, my manager had rushed to the place and was now with Satya’s family offering all possible help.

                                                                   *****

‘It was very sad. Satya has a baby girl Sumitra who is just one year old. She would be fatherless now. His wife broke down with the news and became unconscious.’

When my colleague concluded his narration of the happenings in the office I felt numbed with fear.

‘What if I had not fallen down in front of my house and broken my back? What if I had gone to office and I was asked to go to finalize the tender? What if I was in the place of Satya?’

‘Should I thank Thangam to have caused my fall?’ I didn’t know and I didn’t understand the connections. I would be happy if someone could tell me?

“Why don’t we bring Sumitra and her mother to our house?” was the innocent question posed by Suneeta when she came to hospital that evening.
             
                                                                  *****

Comments from GK Swamy on "Short Stories for Young Readers"

I read Short Stories for Young Readers by T. N. Neelakantan. I have to say the stories I read in that anthology were a very good mix of humour and seriousness. The first story "Every life has a meaning" was craftily written. It tracks two separate character's lives. We later find out that those two people's lives, however parallel they seem, are unified and one lends meaning to the other. There is also a thrilling detective story Shankar: The young detective. and the following story about super nova can be read as an allegory for the mortality of men.

Short Stories for Young Readers - Book 1

I have written and published during February 2011 a short story book titled: SHORT STORIES FOR YOUNG READERS - BOOK 1. I have also published the same digitally through Kindle Direct Publishing of Amazon.com. The print copy of the book had been reviewed by many and they had felt good about reading the short stories. The book is available on Amazon on line stores for digital reading and the physical copy is available with me. I believe books are great gifts to children.

Best wishes to everyone on the eve of Christmas. May peace prevail!

O Tenkasi!: Agraharathil Yaanai (Elephant at Agraharam)

Staying in an Agraharam has its own unique attractions and advantages, as I have discovered over the last five years. I ran away from Chennai fearing its grueling traffic, congestion, pollution, water logging, mosquitoes and many more things that threatened peace in my life. I moved to Tenkasi and that too to an Agraharam. Unlike many other Agraharams, the place where I stay had maintained their unique traditions, culture, and closeness among people. After several years, we feel we are living among friendly people. In most metropolitan places where we had lived, neither did we know our neighbors closely nor did they know us well. Agraharam is different. Here, everyone is known to everyone else. I can write pages together on living in an Agraharam. A few days back, a kovil yaanai (temple elephant) was brought inside our Agraharam. It was nice to see most residents seeking the blessing from the elephant in return for their offerings of rice, plantain fruits, jaggery etc. I was initially shy to come out of my house and watch the fun. Thanks to my wife and her persuasion, I stepped out. The elephant looked very majestic in a narrow Agraharam street. Her movements were elegant. She raised her trunk, accepted the offerings given by the people and remembered to bless by touching everyone’s head. I too sought its blessings. The incident rekindled my memories of my younger days at Tirunelveli Town. Every day the temple elephant used to pass through our streets after having a bath in the river. We all used to rush to see the elephant. I fondly remember a funny belief that elephant’s dung was good for cracks in our heels and so we used to wait to watch the elephant drop its dung so that we could step on it and stamp with our feet.

Oh, Tenkasi!

I was happy to be back in Tenkasi in Aug, 2012 after a five months' stay in USA. The place is quite cool and windy but very little rains. The forests, hills and greenery are all slowly disappearing in and around Tenkasi and Courtallam. While they still last, I thought I would take a few pictures and the scenery is still breath-taking. I am sharing a few here. Look at those Banyan trees. When they are felled, it might take several decades before another Banyan tree grows. Look at those rocks. They are barren in most places. What happened to the rain forests? Construction is coming up everywhere pushing the greenery to the background or to nowhere. Roads are full of vehicles and pedestrians are missing. God save Courtallam and Tenkasi!

 

 

Evening Flowers in Chicago

Oh !My Fair Lady!

It was an early morning in a suburban town in Illinois. I woke up early as usual, but strangely that day I was in no mood to sit with my computer to check my mails and I decided to go for a walk. It was summer time. You may not know that in Illinois, on a clear summer morning, it dawns at five in the morning and the day light is there till almost eight or nine in the night. I have seen similar long days while I was working in North East in India. I put on some light gear and stepped out of our multi-storied condo unit. I was alone as my wife and son had already left for their yoga classes. It had rained the previous night and I could see mild dews everywhere. But that day the morning sky appeared clear and cloudless. Reasonably assured that it might not rain, I took quick strides on the road. I was familiar with a few walking trails and I changed it every day. That morning I decided to walk along a number of inner roads avoiding the main ones.
The air was crisp and my morning mood was high and exhilarating. My morning walks are generally very inspiring and I use them for developing ideas for my writings. Thoughts flow like cool rivers during those silent moments. I stay with my idle thoughts that eventually roll into concrete plots for my stories during those walks. Many times I get so much focused that I become oblivious to everything else on my way. Some of these plots get further developed when I sit quietly closing my eyes, focusing on my breathing after my walk. Sometimes this happens deliberately and many times spontaneously. All that I do is to consciously introduce an intention to develop a plot for my story while I sit for meditation and then let it go. By the time I finish my meditation, I am usually ready to sit down and begin writing my story. I found this as an effortless effort. I remember Dr.Deepak Chopra, the great motivation speaker, writer and spiritualist in USA, whose writing I love most, saying something like: “You introduce your intention during ‘gap’ and the rest are details.”
That morning, my thoughts strayed and there was no focus. That was when I saw her! The wisdom again dawned on me later that after all everything happen for a purpose.
She was there all the time, but I did not realize how beautiful she was until I paid conscious attention to her. Again remember quantum physics: “Matter doesn’t exist until you notice.” How true it is! I saw her playing ‘hide and seek’ with me like a child. She shone in her bright silver gray color and I was appalled. She grazed upon me at few places only to disappear around the corner. She hid herself behind some buildings while at other times peeped through gaps between the trees. As she tinkled me, my excitement rose. She was bright and shining, sometimes in my front, other times from my sides or my back, but always revealing only part of her. She was graciously warm when she swept over me. I was already beginning to feel her warm embrace. At some corners, she totally disappeared from my view only to jump all of a sudden in front of me as I walked ahead. At times, I felt as though she was inviting me arms open. Every now and then, she would suddenly dazzle in front of me blinding my eyes that I had to shield my eyes with both hands. When breeze joined her, I tried to hold her tightly by closing my arms around my chest and my eyes became watery. Slowly as time passed by, she turned her heat on me and I felt she was piercing my bones and nerves. I started to sweat in her presence. At last, she rose sufficiently above and her full blown out beauty was blinding me. Not able to bear her any more, I quickly retraced back to my place thanking her for the show. She might not be aware that I have captured her beauty in a small box that I always carried with me whenever I went for a walk. I am presenting her pictures to you all you to appreciate.




You can see her peeping through the gaps in the tree branches.



She was revealing herself only partially.

She was playing hide and seek with me.



She was hiding herself around the corner, behind that tall building only to unsettle me suddenly jumping in my front.



You can see her hiding behind me.



I saw her going over me from my sides.

Oh Sunshine! My Fair Lady!

"I want to go to America"

One may agree or not. For many Indians, America is a dream destination.
Ever since India witnessed a boom in IT industry in late 1990s and India’s growth trajectory found a new leap, there was an unprecedented increase in the wealth of several families. We need to thank our youngsters’ for their hard work and mobility, English communication skills, and quick learning in fields like software development and maintenance. But for this recent development in the Indian scene, our country might continue to stay as a developing nation for another century. The living standards, lifestyles and comforts of most Indians have gone up several folds in the last decade. Fresh engineering graduates draw salaries that their parents did not see even after several decades of working. We fly inland and abroad almost regularly and in many international airports one can find an Indian out of every four or five passengers. Yet, when youth discuss career, tourism, and money their eyes glitter when they talk about America. Excepting for those carrying a prejudice, America is still a dream to us even when economically it is down. I have seen families talking with lot of pride about their children working in US. I have always wondered why.

At the time of writing this I had completed seven visits to USA since 2000.I have had the opportunity to stay there for as long as six months a few times and feel America. During my travel I have visited many of their major cities.
I have tried to understand the psychology from a few important aspects: firstly material comforts and quality of life comforts, secondly quality of work life, thirdly entertainment and leisure time and finally liberty and freedom in day to day life.

Quality of life comforts:

In America, with dollars in their pockets, people seem to enjoy far superior purchasing power for their money. For someone who enjoys a fifty-thousand-dollars-annual income, which is quite normally the case with our many IT guys, they can own a 2000 square feet spacious fully air-conditioned house that costs only five-six-years of one’s salary.

Many things are big and most of us fancy big houses, big buildings, big backyards, big stores, big cars, big TVs and fridges, big roads, and what not. Power cut is unheard of. No need to worry about limited supply of potable water. Everyone is crazy about the far superior and latest electronic gadgets, faster 24x7 cable and internet connections, GPS, wireless internet routers at home, office and many public places like cafeteria, airport, and library.

Then they have the comfort of driving in a disciplined traffic. One drives at 65 miles per hour (roughly 100 kilometers) on their free way. Lane discipline, speed limits, pedestrian crossovers, traffic rules are strictly enforced and no exceptions are made. One does not need to fear the police. They are extremely polite even when they are giving you a ticket for traffic violation. The roads have clears signs everywhere. Vehicles do not compete with pedestrians on the road. Their roads are wide and many inside roads are virtually empty. Courtesy to pedestrians is the norm on the roads.

One can find recreation parks everywhere.

The air is clean and greenery is preserved in most places. Cities are fairly spread out and suburban towns and satellite cities are allowed to grow to ease congestion. You would rarely see people smoking in public places. You see neatness everywhere. People have a great culture about cleanliness and discipline.




Any information you need is available for asking on your I-phone. When you necessarily have to visit an office, be it government or private, you are treated with utmost courtesy.

The term ‘corruption’ or ‘bribing’ is virtually absent in day to day life. Tax evasion and unaccounted money is all non-existent at the common man level. They bill you for every purchase you make, they deduct tax on every penny you earn, and refund taxes, if any, in no time. Banking habits are widely prevalent, cash transactions are minimal and most payments go through credit cards. You can order anything over internet with the assurance of safe and accurate delivery.

Trains, buses and air services are punctual and travel is safe. I have seen America before and after Sep 2001. It is a remarkable performance by any government that they did not allow any attack since Sep 2001. They have zero tolerance towards security lapses and have highest concern for their nation’s safety and security.

Work Culture:

In America, one does not have to slog over late evenings at work. During weekends you are completely free for yourself. (Indian owned companies operating here seem to be exception.) Leisure time is something they value a lot and won’t compromise. Many enjoy flexible working hours and in many places, it is encouraged even. It helps many working mothers to take care of their children. Many enjoy facility to work from home from time to time. Recently, one of our acquaintances fractured her legs and her husband who was working in another big city was allowed to go back home and work from there so that he could give moral and physical support to his wife and kids.

Boss and subordinate relationship is informal and everyone calling each other by name. Out-of-box thinking is encouraged. There is no bondage and loyalty between the worker and the boss and the organization. Everyone understands their responsibilities. Efficiency and one’s value of contribution to the organization seem to be criteria on which a worker is judged and retained. Deadlines are set and meant to be enforced. No-nonsense approach to work and interpersonal dealings relieves a worker from a lot of mental stress.

Shopping:

Shopping in any stores is a great fun and past-time for many. I have seen people carrying cart load of articles from malls like Walmart, Frys, IKEA, and Kohls, and J C Penny and the likes.

Malls are allowed to be built only in specified areas. They are very spacious and have vast car-parking spaces. They follow strict standards about cleanliness, courteous service, openness about their products and services, elegance in display, efficiency in delivery, customer-care and product returns.

Most big stores have decent policy for return of goods when not satisfied with the product purchased. I would like to recall a few real pleasant experiences.

In the first instance, a relative of mine presented me with a costly wristwatch couple of years ago. Recently, it stopped working. We took it to a watch repair shop who confirmed that the repair would be very costly. We then took it to the store who sold us the watch, hesitantly explained that the watch stopped working and that we were not sure of the date we bought it from them. The lady over the counter tallied some numbers on the back of the watch with the computer, told us that it was bought four years back, and took back the watch refunding the full value.

In yet another remarkable instance, a friend of ours ordered window blinds and curtains at a fabulous price for their new house from one of the leading stores. It was made to specific measurements and order and supplied two weeks later. However, when the curtains were fixed, our friends realized that they were very transparent not allowing any privacy. They were shocked and took up the matter with the store. On inspection, the store representative realized that the curtains were not suitable for residential houses. He promised to come back in a week’s time. The next week, the store took the decision to take back the entire material even though they were made to specific order and they may find it hard to find another buyer for the same measurements. They supplied new curtains of our friend’s choice in their place and refunded the entire difference less a small return fee.

Buying goods in leading stores in US is really a very satisfying experience.

Infrastructure:

In America, everything seems to be planned big and executed neatly. They plan ahead of time, taking into account the possible developments several decades from now. Some of the world’s greatest landmarks were built in modern America long back. The first underground subway rail line in New York was opened in 1904. Golden Gate Bridge across the San Francisco Bay was completed in 1937. America has most of the busy and largest airports in the world. They have built broad roads and they have five-lane traffic on either side of their freeways. They have built large electricity generation and water supply systems. Nature has blessed them with plenty of land, water, minerals and other resources and they use them well to their advantage. They plan and build infrastructure like roads, water and electricity connections, telephone lines, recreation parks, and pavements before they allow construction anywhere. Rural areas offer as much comfort as any major cities with less discomfort. Development is all round. Cities are spread apart.

Religious, Social and Spiritual Life:

One enjoys total and complete freedom about one’s personal life. One is free to pursue his own religion, social group and spiritual life. World’s most religions have some or other worshipping place in many cities in America. For Indians, you have temples, mosques, churches, for different sects and followings, ashrams, yoga and meditation centers and cultural associations. One’s social life is smooth. People gather regularly according to their beliefs, customs and practices, and their religion. Worshipping places are very neat and clean and offers holy environment. I have seen many families sincerely practicing their tradition and culture much more sincerely and rigorously here than back in India. Laws and discipline are respected and enforced for all with no exception made – not even people in high influential positions.

Entertainment and pursuit of hobbies:

You find the best of reading libraries in America. For someone who is a voracious reader, American libraries offer tremendous challenges in terms of their book collections. Libraries are very spacious and well connected electronically. Children in America seem to enjoy their visit to libraries.

There are no limits to opportunities for entertainment. There are theme parks and amusement parks, theatres, casinos, gyms, in-door and out-door sports, stadiums, museums, science and technology centers for children and what not. On most weekends, people rush to holidaying and picnic places. Shopping again is a great fun and entertainment here. And one can structure his entertainment according to his own budget and affordability.

Conclusion:

In conclusion, America seems to have been the most generous country in the history of nations in allowing many nationalities to migrate. This policy has helped both – US in building their nation and the immigrant in their prosperity. For a law-abiding citizen, it is a hassle free life. Indians are respected and are growing in their number, wealth, status and are in a position to influence even American policies and programs. Americans seem to like Indian spiritual life very much. It is not to say that there are no issues or problems about living in America. There are several aspects about America that I detest too. Overall, I gain an impression that most Indians living in America would continue to live there for indefinite periods, unless otherwise pushed.

Super Nova: A Short Story

We were only very few in our class. The subject was Astronomy. Little I realized earlier that rarely students opted for Astronomy as one of their elective subjects during their college studies. When I was young and in school, I had visited Chennai during summer vacations and during those days, my grand-mother used to take me to Marina beach and there, lying down on the beach sand, I used to watch stars and get excited and curious about ‘space’ and whatever is out there. Ever since those days, I was a keen star gazer and I was reading tit bits about planets and stars from time to time. In my small town, there was no reading library worth its name and I had very little access to current information on sky and the stars. Luckily opportunity to study Astronomy knocked my doors when I entered college and Astronomy was available as one of the elective subjects.

We had a very interesting professor Dr.Mohan who taught us Astronomy and he was a master story teller. It was intriguing to learn that it took more than a millennium before the geocentric view of the universe got disproved and rejected and we accepted a heliocentric view, where Sun is the centre of our universe. I was appalled at the knowledge of existence of several universes like ours. I got thrilled at stories about this universe coming into being from ‘seemingly nothing’ during the “Big Bang” and about several stars and planets coming into existence from gaseous masses. I read with great awe how this universe keeps expanding at a great pace. Thinking and contemplating on the possibility of existence of black holes somewhere out there in the sky, from which nothing can escape in their ‘event horizon’ region, frightened me. I never missed Dr.Mohan’s classes and his stories. Our mutual relationship worked on an excellent chemistry of understanding, appreciation and interest in astronomical events and discoveries.

“Binary stars are stars that move around their common centre of mass. Some of them could be large, bright, ten to one-hundred times the size of the Sun, with a cool surface, believed to be at the end of their life cycle. These are known as Red Giants. When a Red Giant sheds it outer layers as a ejected gaseous envelope, a very dense, small, hot star in the last stage in life appears, and these stars are known as White Dwarfs. When matter that accumulated on the surface of a White dwarf explodes, then the star suddenly brightens very dramatically and remains bright for a few days, and then fades away, gradually returning to its dim appearance. This phenomenon is called Nova. The largest and most luminous type of star is known as Supergiant. They are dying stars and have diameter up to thousand times that of the Sun. They are formed when very massive type of star uses up its hydrogen fuel and begins to expand and cool. An exploding supergiant is known as Supernova. It attains temporary brightness of hundred million suns or more and it can shine as brightly as a small galaxy for a few days or weeks.”

Even, as Dr.Mohan was explaining this candidly, his majestic voice exploding in the class room, my mind slowly drifted away to my sister Brinda.
*******

Brinda, my sister, is extremely brilliant, active, inquisitive, studious and very, very pretty. Simply, she is a star in our house, a pet for my parents and adored by many. I have envied her and her talents from time to time, but I was also proud of her. She was in class seven last year.

Nine months back ago, one day she complained of fatigue and fell ill for a week. She was diagnosed as suffering from anemia and was put on medication. She turned normal soon.

Around the same time, Mr.David, a new mathematics teacher joined her school and he taught mathematics to Brinda’s class. He was very likeable and many students adored him. Brinda, already looked upon as a mathematics genius, was seen interacting with Mr.David more often. Her keenness to learn more and more in mathematics had puzzled Mr.David and he gradually realized that she was not only brilliant, but growing beyond her age in mathematics. Brinda went to him about problems that were more complex and involved a higher learning. She took extra pains to learn calculus, differentiation and integration, trigonometry and a few other areas that were meant for higher classes. Week after week, she was presenting to him tricky problems and her own solutions, in topics that were way beyond her class. Mr.David concluded that he was dealing with a kind of wizard. His own mathematical skills were challenged a few times by Brinda and he also teased her with more complex and varied problems. This went on for a couple of months.

Initially, Mr.David kept things to himself and one day he reported this to the Principal of the school. When the Principal and another senior interviewed her, Brinda astounded them with her speed in solving problems of higher mathematics. They commended her and informed our parents who were extremely pleased and soon, Brinda’s extraordinary brilliance became a common topic of discussion in the school and among our friends and relatives.

The Principal soon began wondering whether they were dealing with a child prodigy in Brinda and sometime later, they decided to put her to test. A few university professors were invited to test Brinda and after several sessions of grilling, they agreed that Brinda was definitely an extraordinary brain.

*******

While her anemic conditions appeared to have improved, Brinda started reporting sickness more often during the same period. She complained of loss of appetite, sore throat, and had erratic high fevers. Once while walking, an iron nail plunged deep into her toes and she bled excessively. It took several days to heel. Doctors diagnosed that her immune system was getting weak and she was put on further medication. Our parents were very frugal and managed the family on a meager income. They started feeling the pinch of her medical expenses on our finances and their debts were rising. But they loved us a lot. Our residence was shifted to another locality to save Brinda from mosquitoes that were breeding and spreading disease from an open drain near our old house and this added to their expenses and debts. In the new place, Brinda enjoyed better ventilation and clean air.

Meanwhile, there was an open competition in mathematics for students and was conducted at national level at New Delhi. Brinda was sponsored from her school. The judges were intrigued by Brinda’s performance in those competitions and decided to put her on a few higher testing. Brinda won in every test put to her. Learning about her outstanding performance, Brinda received a personal award from the President of India in a special gesture and also the unique privilege of spending a few hours with the President. The President was once a professor in Mathematics in a foreign university in his younger days and he treated Brinda as a very special and unique guest.

As soon as Brinda returned back from New Delhi, she fell ill once again and was hospitalized. The doctors shifted her to much bigger facilities in another government hospital at a nearby town where she stayed for a month. During that period she had a roller coaster ride about her health. One day she was bright and charming and on another, she looked totally devastated and miserable. Whenever she felt normal and was about to be discharged from the hospital, her condition would dramatically worsen. Diagnosis went on and on without any end and doctors had no clue. After a month, she left hospital with a long list of medical prescriptions.

*******

After she returned from the hospitals, Brinda went on an unprecedented steep ride. She suddenly appeared to have developed the ability to solve many mathematical problems mentally without needing a paper and pen. She solved many complex algebraic equations instantly. She said she was getting images of answers before her whenever problems were posed to her. She literally saw the answers in her mind. She went through another series of testing by several expert groups and she was finally pronounced a mathematical genius and prodigy.

Another day, Brinda vomited non-stop and diagnosed as having serious inflammation in her throat. She was admitted to the hospital. Dr.Surinder from Stanley Hospital, Chennai was on a visit to our place on some mission and our hospital Chief requested him to look at her case. Dr.Surinder suspected that Brinda had something more serious than what was imagined and he wanted to examine her at Chennai. We all rushed to Chennai and admitted her at Stanley Hospital.

And that is when we had the rude shock. Brinda was diagnosed as suffering from Leukemia, a kind of cancer of bone marrow and doctors recommended transplantation of bone marrow as they felt that she might not be able to bear and go through the painful chemotherapy and radiation treatments. Her condition was considered very critical.

The news somehow reached the President of India, who, by-passing all procedures, ordered airlifting Brinda to All India Medical Institute at Delhi. Her treatment began fifteen days ago and is going on right now. I had my classes in the college and my semester exams were due. So, I returned and I am now listening to Dr.Mohan, my astronomy professor describing Nova.

*******

“Nova and Super Nova are nature’s great wonders. Science is still trying to understand these phenomena and get better explanations. Why some stars accumulate mass, why they explode when others don’t, are all matters of speculation even today.” I heard Dr.Mohan speaking. “But you know something …………… Nova and Supernova are not peculiar to stars alone. If you look at it philosophically, there had been Novas and Supernovas among men, men who suddenly arose from no-where, stayed shining brilliantly for some time and then disappeared without any plausible explanation. That is how, some great men, had appeared among us, made tremendous impact, and left a huge trail of storm and dust. There was one Ramakrishna, a poor Brahmin who was made a priest in a Kali temple in Calcutta. He rose suddenly to a level where he was reverently called Sri Bhagavan, a god like stature and his disciple Narendra, later on known as Swami Vivekananda, for whom Ramakrishna had waited for, shot even further though under the shadow of his Master. Swamy Vivekananda showed Shri Ramakrishna to the entire world. Was Ramakrishna or Vivekananda a Nova and Super Nova? Extend this thinking further. Many names might come to your mind. I am leaving it to you to guess and determine for yourself. Yes, we have had Novas and Supernovas among us too.”

He concluded when the bell rang to tell us that the class was over. The entire class left while I was still seated alone brooding and ruminating: Is Brinda a Nova or a Super Nova? Tears rolled down my cheek.

Brave Hearts: A short story

It was getting dark and I was getting worried.
Bhavana, my sister and I studied in the same school and she was in sixth and I was in tenth class. Ever since I bought a used bicycle from my senior for scrap price, we went to school together in my cycle. Arrival of a cycle was a boon to us as the government buses plied less frequently and we used to have long waits before. On occasions they would never turn up, when we had to walk back three kilometers to home.
Twice a week, Bhavana went to a teacher who stayed close to our school for music lessons. Charu teacher who taught music was very proficient, took students only selectively, and strict. During those days, my father, who worked as a fitter in a factory in the nearby town, would pick up Bhavana while he returned home from work. But every alternate Mondays he had to work overtime and bringing Bhavana from her music classes was my responsibility on those days.
That day, her music teacher was in more than her usual enthusiastic moods and was spending more time with Bhavana who was equally matching her teacher’s enthusiasm. The class went on for long and I was waiting for her. When finally the classes got over both Charu teacher and Bhavana spent some more time appreciating each other and that day’s lessons and it was really late and getting dark.
When she was finished, Bhavana got on the carrier of my cycle. I took the small by pass road that connected my village to our school and that meant we would commute one kilometer less. A cycle ride through this by pass would normally be very exciting and enjoyable with very cool breeze blowing over across a wide ridge between two nearby mountain hills all through the year.
On either side of the by-pass, there were mango groves, thick trees, bushes, and some patches of green fields. A cool water canal with gurgling water running down was another exquisite site on the way.
The panoramic view used to be picturesque and Bhavana, as the nature lover in our house, enjoyed the ride back.
I cautioned Bhavana that we ought to rush as there would be very little lighting and the road could become dark. Besides, today was a New Moon day. She said, ‘So what! Even better…. I could watch birds and bats returning back home.” She was the fearless and I was her opposite. I feared darkness. A host of other things too scared me.
Midway it became pitch dark and my stomach churned. Only some street lights were shimmering here and there and I pedaled faster. Lots of fire-flies were illuminating the dark sky.

“Arun, stop for a minute,” shouted Bhavna from behind. I hesitated, but she had already jumped down. “I hear a child crying,” said she.
“What? A child crying in this wilderness! Why do you worry? Some villager should be taking care of it. Let us not waste any more time. Come on.”
“No, I had been hearing the cry for some time now. Let us find out whether there is any problem,” insisted Bhavana. She had already started running in the direction where I too heard the cry of a child. I ran behind her.
Behold! There under a tree, in a cloth cradle, from where the cry came, was a small child, hardly a year old. Bhavana looked around to find out whether there was anyone, but there was none. She rushed back to the cradle and lifted the screaming child. My attempts to stop her were in vain. The baby was already in her arm and she was cuddling the child. The girl baby had no dress on her and she was completely wet. She had a running nose and her hair was sticky. Her body was covered with black dirty mud and she appeared ugly, but nothing bothered Bhavana. I detested the very sight.
“Bhavana, this is too much. We have to go back home. Our mother will be anxious and worrying about us. We are very late. Leave the child where she was. I am sure her mother or father will come back soon and take her away. Be assured.” I told her.
“What Arun? Leave this hapless child here? How can you be so cruel and inhuman?”
I was becoming restless and angry with Bhavana. But I could also understand her compassion and felt she had a point. The place was dark and scary and I was afraid. Poor Baby! I was ambivalent. More time passed. Still no one was in sight.
“Let us take her home. Mother will advise us on what we can do with her.” She already started walking back to our cycle carrying the child on her shoulders. The baby was quieter by now, though still crying on and off, and Bhavana was comforting her.
I pedaled faster and Bhavana held the baby tightly even as she adeptly tried to balance herself on the cycle. Our mother was anxiously waiting, and on seeing us bringing a baby with us she was shocked and alarmed. Panting heavily, we explained how we found the child.
“We can’t keep the child with us. We need to report to police. We would run into problem.” She said worried. Some neighbors too had assembled by that time and raised sharp questions. Our father too reached home.
Sundar uncle in our neighborhood brought his scooter. We all squeezed ourselves in the backseat, our mother holding the baby in her arms. He drove to the nearby police station and father followed us in his cycle. There, we met with a policeman, who was bulky and looked threatening. He questioned us in a menacing tone, but soon became very understanding. Bhavana answered most of the questions boldly and I was half hiding behind her. The Sub-inspector of Police (SIP) too arrived soon. We tried to explain once again as best as we could how and where we found the child. He was very appreciative of our gesture even while he expressed concern that being a rural place, it was possible that the baby’s mother or father ought to have been working in the nearby field and possibly would now be searching for the baby. Realizing that he could not keep the baby in the police station, he was in a fix. Sundar uncle came to his rescue and saved him from embarrassment by suggesting that the baby could be left with our parents overnight, if that was okay with the SIP. He also suggested that the SIP could identify some suitable place for the care of the baby later during the day. Bhavana was quite happy about the turn of events.
Not immediately finding any other solution, SIP agreed and ordered another policeman to keep a watch our house for our safety. However, he wanted to visit the spot and make sure that the baby’s parents were not looking for the child. So, he took me with him in his motorbike while others returned home. However, the place where we found the baby looked darker and deserted and no one was sighted there. I noticed that my fear for policemen became subdued.
Our parents were very appreciative of our compassion for the child. It was almost midnight by the time the baby was given a bath, wrapped up in a towel, fed with milk and put to sleep. I noticed Bhavana taking keen interest in everything about the baby. I slept away. I heard the baby crying from time to time during the night. Bhavana tried to be awake, but she was also overtaken by sleep. Our mother seemed to have been awake for the whole night. The policeman sent by SIP was with us for sometime in the night and he too retired back to his house with a promise to come back in the early morning.
*******
Next morning the SIP arrived in a jeep borrowed from a nearby station and arranged for sending the child to a children home run by a Sai devotee, we have heard of, not very far from our place. Overnight, he had also arranged for publishing the news in the local newspapers. He also took Bhavana and me to the spot where we found the empty cloth cradle still hanging loosely from a tree branch. They made enquiries in the nearby localities and there was no clue.
News spread slowly and it reached our school headmaster too. He too arrived at the spot. We became instant heroes in our school.
Bhavana was not to allow the matter to rest. She suggested that we go back to the place again that evening and make more enquiries. I was apprehensive, but conceded. I noticed that her enthusiasm was spreading to me too. We met a number of local villagers. We also went back to the children home to enquire about the baby. Bhavana had already christened the baby as ‘Muthu’ and she was very happy in the company of Muthu, who was all smiles now, not even remembering that her mother was not there to look after her.
*******
The routine continued for a week. In between, we also visited the police station and only once we got to meet anyone who could give us any information about the baby’s parents.
One day Bhavana looked so sad and miserable. Someone in the class had told her that probably the parents of the baby could have deserted the child and ran away as she had seen in some movies.
“How can a mother do it?” Bhavana questioned me angrily. I had no answer.
********
Thanks to Bhavana’s inquisitiveness, on the eighth day there was some break. One of the villagers reported having seen a nomadic gypsy group roaming and camping near the area where we had found the child and that there were a few babies too in that group though he could not be sure how many. We dashed to the police station and luckily, the SIP was available that time. We reported what we learnt. He lauded our efforts and enthusiasm and promised to look around all gypsy camps nearby.
The very next day, there was some unconnected news. A woman’s dead body was found floating in the nearby pond. However no connection could be made with the child. The body was sent to mortuary in the government hospital in the nearby town.
In another town, the police arrested someone on suspicion and in his detention, he had blurted the truth. Two gypsy groups had had a quarrel about money while camping. He was part of one of the groups. When the group parted ways after bitter quarrel, he picked up another private nasty duel with one of the woman who was putting her baby to sleep placed in a cloth cradle. In a fit of fury, he had severely beaten that woman who swooned and fell to the ground and he left the scene to join other people in the group. Presumably, the woman was not dead and was only unconscious. She ought to have regained consciousness and managed to reach the pond looking out for water. She probably lost her balance or consciosuness and that answered for her body having been found in the nearby pond.
Alas! The poor baby lost her mother, but gained a place where she would grow securely and would have some education, decent food, clothes and lots of love. Bhavana and I visited the children home once in a week to see “Muthu”. Even my parents visited the child and gradually took interest in the homeless children and decided to spend the weekends in their company. It was a nice feeling we all had.

Education in Rural india: Can we do something about it?

A visit to USA never ceases to surprise me every time I happen to be here. Not that, I am an ardent fan of American culture nor I approve of many things going on here. However, a few things do impact me and I do not fail notice the difference.
During my current visit during Feb, 2010 I happened to meet and interact with a few so-called ’Desi’ kids in the age group of 6 to 8 and I was pleasantly surprised at a few things about them.
First of all, the level of their exposure to knowledge and information was something incredible. A seven year boy is able to log on to internet, search files and information, find websites that interest them, play computer games downloading them from internet, watch base-ball, football matches and comment on the games and the players, visit science museums and comment on functioning of heart, recall names of comic characters in comics and stories, and what not.
Secondly, it is about their attitude and self-confidence. They treat elders as their equals – rather they raise themselves in their image about themselves in the presence of elders and talk and move with elders as if they are equal to their elders; this is a typical American way of life.
They were very inquisitive, persevering in trying to get what they wish to have, had more than tentative view of what they wished to be when they grow old, they could be politely firm about many things, expressed themselves freely about what they thought on many issues, stayed silent when elders were trying to do something – even cooperating in completion of any task the elders were indulged in and many things more.
I was really impressed by their communication skills, clarity of thoughts, ability to explain things, events and happenings, people, and even their thoughts and experiences.
They are more rounded up in their growth in initial years, taking interest in a host of extra-curricular activities. They take interest in a variety of physical activities, hands-on skills, hobbies, out-door sports and events and the likes. It is even more surprising that their parents seem to be patiently able to help them learn and grow in their knowledge and information. I was taken aback once when one of my relative parents opened his car engine bonnet and explained to his four year old son, how a car engine functioned. The child appeared to greatly appreciate how a car worked evidenced by his manner of questioning his father.
More than anything else, I found many parents bringing up their children in a true spiritual path, helping their children develop qualities like acceptance, patience, understanding, tolerance, prayer, living with nature and appreciating nature, not wasting essentials, respect to elders and ancestors, family bondage and the likes.
I do not know whether I am exaggerating the situation, but this was the impression I gained.
Eventually, a couple of days ago, I met a family from Chennai who had come to USA on a visit during vacation and whose little girl was just seven. When I met the little girl, I could clearly discern the quality of her education by her knowledge, communication, attitude and interests. Clearly, she was a city bred girl with superior facilities and opportunities of learning.
I am assuming that the kind of children whom I met belonged to fairly well-educated, upper middle class, and well-to-do parents living in more sophisticated societies with far superior living standards and quality of life. So I cannot rightly summarize this across the board about all children.
But the point I was pondering about: Are these children born superior? Are they born genius?
Here I should remind myself that the children whom I met in America were no different from other children as far as their childish tendencies are concerned. They were children anyway and behave that way – but with a difference.
I have always noticed the difference when I have spoken to children from rural and semi-urban areas. Typically many children whom I met in rural areas were shy, lack vision, had poor communication, had less exposure to information, and had limited ambitions and aspirations. They were also practical, smart, intelligent, and had lot of practical wisdom. My interactions with parents were more discouraging and disgusting.
In fact, I chose a rural and semi-urban area for my retired living to find out whether I could do something for those less privileged children and youth so that at least a few of them may be brought on par with or at least challenge, the city or urban centre bred boys and girls.
I am really not familiar what methodology, tools and aids they use in most primary schools in rural and semi-urban areas. Yes, I am currently groping in darkness about what I can do and have been only evolving so far in my quest to do something worthwhile in a rural area and I am willing to put in resources if I get meaningful ideas from well-intentioned people. Can someone advise me?

A Short Story: KPL 20/20

Killiyoor Premier League: A Cricket Match
It was summer time. Our annual exams just got over when the Third Version of IPL 20/20- Indian Premier League Cricket - matches had an exciting close. We missed watching most of the initial matches. After cajoling our parents, we were allowed to watch the semifinals and finals matches. Finals were an exciting fight between two great titans – Tendulkar and Dhoni. When Chennai Super Kings led by Dhoni won the finals, we jumped to the roof. We had bet among our friends for the finalist and I ended up losing three rupees entertaining my comrades with masal vadas. Sachin was in great form and I was so sure he would win. I didn’t know why he let me down.
I stayed in Killiyoor and ours was a small rural town. Ours was a narrow street where century old houses stood majestically in multi colors. Many of them wouldn’t have seen painting for at least a few decades. Though a small town, people had large hearts. We were all very friendly with each other, though occasionally we had punched each other’s nose when it came to burning real issues like ‘Who was a Superstar – Ajith or Vijay?’ Very rarely elders interfered with youngsters. Our fights were usually settled with exchange of some ‘kit-kats’.
My name is Venky alias Venkatakrishnan and I was twelve and Kicha alias Krishnaswamy who was younger to me by two years was my dear friend.
“Why don’t we play a cricket match?” Kicha asked me one fine morning pulling me up from my bed. He ought to have lost his sleep over this previous night.
I couldn’t wait to brush and wash. We ran out. We had some fine players in our street team - our talents matching only with the likes of Suresh Raina and Virendra Shewak. I already started dreaming about the match.
“But we are only seven people – how can we form a team, yaar?” asked Kicha
********
We immediately called a general body meeting of all the little ones. Kicha’s house was bigger than others. Our meeting went on acrimoniously even while Kicha’s grandmother ‘Sundari Patti’ distributed sundal to all. The only other interruption came from his grandfather when he was powdering betel nut in a hand-held stone-grinder with loud thuds and when he intervened to tell us how earlier days’ five day test matches were superior and how Chandu Borde those days used to stand at the crease not-out even three full days while his score wouldn’t have crossed even 50.
“Hey, Vasudev and Harini are reaching here next week for the vacations. We can include them in our team.” This was Subbu. They were his cousins.
“You fool! Harini is a girl yaar …… we can’t take girls in our team” said Sai. Immediately a long list of all those who were expected to visit our village during summer vacation was drawn and probable team members were considered. We spent next several hours selecting team, even as we devoured tasty murukku, kadalai and other snacks sent by Sundari Patti!
We narrowed down on fourteen names to be included in the team. We were still falling short of people.
“I can bring Sailesh and Gopu,” I told, bringing some hope to our discussions. They were my seniors in the school. “But they will come on some conditions” I paused adding suspense.
“They will play only if we get them onion rava masala dosa from Murugan Idli shop.” I said. They were cricket giants in our school and also notable gourmets.
Sundari patti shouted from the kitchen, “Oh Children! I would provide puliodarai for everyone that day………… your food problem is solved.” Sundari patti was in irresistible mood.
“I know Sailesh and Gopu stay far away. My father has a TVS 50. He will bring them to the play ground. Don’t worry!” assured Ramki.
With suggestions coming from different corners, we somehow cobbled up twenty members. The next battle began for the captainship of the teams.
Kicha wanted to be captain for one of the teams and insisted on his right to choose his team. Others did not agree and there was a fight. Situation got flared up and suddenly Kicha walked out of the meeting.
Gone! His participation was important. We weren’t ready to lose three of his stooges and patronage of Sundari patti. Some of us ran behind him and virtually prostrated. After much persuasion from me, he finally settled for vice-captainship on the condition that he would be given the opening for batting and allowed to choose at least four of his team players.
Many promises were given and many compromises were made. Vasudev was chosen as captain for one team and Subbu would be the rival captain. We heard that Vasudev was a big guy now and he had even started having his shave. Knowing Vasudev was a big-time batsman, Kicha jumped to be his vice-captain and we couldn’t refuse. Subbu was hardly ten, but was an able bowler with his slow ball that could beat even Dhoni.
Somehow, the team composition was agreed upon, but there was one catch. We had only eleven members in each team, the twelfth man was missing. We hoped that they would somehow emerge wherever they were.
*******
Finances were a real problem. We needed cricket kit, bat, stumps, and balls. We agreed to go for door to door collections. We set out in small teams on a Sunday morning. The highest donation – Rupees ten – came from Gopalasamy, the vegetable vendor who supplied vegetables to most houses in our street every morning. Subbu’s team collected seven rupees, I collected five and Kicha fifteen, thanks to Sundari patti who was ever generous with her contribution of twelve rupees. His thatha had grumbled, but Sundari patti over-ruled him as usual. On day one our kitty swelled to thirty seven rupees – very meager, but promising.
“What can we buy with just thirty seven rupees, Everyone is a kanjoos yaar.” Subbu retired dejectedly.
*******
“Hey, how can we play without any practice?” questioned Ramki. Our conditioning camp began the very next morning. Ramki pulled everyone out at five in the morning. Not only that, he also spoke to his father who was a good friend of Ganapathi Sir, our school drill master who agreed to be our coach and umpire for the match. Though he was due to retire in the next couple of years, Ganapathi Sir, was enthusiastic and energetic even with his rounded little belly and grey overgrown moustache and side-burns. He promptly reached our place at five thirty every morning in his khaki shorts and blue cut banian. He made us run for twenty minutes all the way to the nearby water tank. This was followed by exercises and then the cricket coaching began. We had two used bats with multiple plasters and some old balls and Ganapathi Sir didn’t grudge about them.
*******
‘We need a name for our tournament?’ said Kicha one day. Everyone immediately assembled in the courtyard of Rangu Thatha. Discussions went on for a few hours.
“The name should be very captivating,” said Rangu thata. Many names got sponsored and finally Subbu’s team was christened Killiyoor Demons and Vasudev’s team Roaring Lions. Great! I came up with the title “KPL - Killiyoor Premier League 20/20” for the game and the name spontaneously captured the excitement of all.
The D day was nearing and some of us were getting nervous. One thing, money collected was short. The visiting team members’ arrival was getting more and more uncertain. In between, three of our players fell sick due to fatigue practising in heat. Subbu cut his toes while trying a return catch as he bowled to me during practice and took rest next few days.
Suspense and drama was heightening day by day.
On Ramki’s suggestion we did 108 pradakshinam at the street Ganapathi temple seeking His blessings for the success of our match. Lord Ganesha too answered our prayers soon.
*******
One evening Subha gave us the good news that her uncle was expected from America in a week’s time.
“Hey, Can Subha talk to her uncle about financing our cricket kit?” asked smart Subbu.
“Oh, Subha is very haughty, yaar!” snubbed Sai.
The responsibility was thrust on me to talk to her. Subha was only six and could be very demanding. Somehow I persuaded her to talk to her uncle and she agreed on the condition that her two American cousins should be included in the team.
“Oh, that is not an issue at all!” I promised without knowing the consequences. It was only much later when her cousins arrived we came to know that one was five and the other three and half years old. Subha, however, maintained her side of deal and got us the entire cricket kit – two new bats, six stumps and a dozen balls and a few hand gloves through her American uncle. Her cousins were graciously included as twelfth men in the team. We got a bonus too. Her American uncle volunteered to capture the entire match on his Digital video camera.
So, it looked everything was set for the great KPL 20/20 match.
*******
There was a lake nearby our place and it usually got dried up during summer. It was agreed to be our stadium. Three days before the match, our drill master also cleared and approved the pitch. On the day prior to the match, it rained unexpectedly. It not only dampened our playground, but our spirits too. We cursed weather god. We all marched once again to Ganapathi temple to make 108 rounds.
Even after our clear messages that all players must be present in our village at least one day before the match, yet, on the previous day when head count was made we were only 20 including those American toddlers. We required two more players. Seshu mama and Ranghu thatha filled in the place on the condition that they take care of our evening snacks – couple of pooris and aloo masalas.
On the day of the match, our whole street bore festive look. People assembled at the play ground very early. Sun God was kind and shone brightly. The pitch was somewhat wet delaying our starting the match. Some old people were seen discussing each team’s prospects. Many compared notes about their good old days when they had played cricket. Even mamis were ready finishing their daily chores early.
Latchumi akka painstakingly brought several pots of water from a nearby well for our use.
Revathi (6), Visalakshi (5) and Aswini (7) provided the much needed entertainment by way of their belly dance. They were present with the most colorful and enticing minis. (Who would watch KPL – Killiyoor Premier League 20/20 if entertainment was not part of it?) Sankaran Anna and the visiting Thiagaraja mama provided music with their harmonium and dolak that they used to play during Bhajan sessions in Margazhi month. All the non-players sang in chorus some popular numbers and cheered the dancers.
Sundari patti sent a large basin filled with puliodarai. A few other houses sent roasted ground-nuts, candies, kadalai sundal for refreshment.
Subbu won the toss and decided to field as the pitch was still wet.
The two American little ones were allowed to open the batting and were cheered by all. They never touched the ball and it took fifteen balls to get them out. My senior Sailesh scored just one run. Most catches were dropped. Finally, Roaring Lions of Vasudev managed to score twenty eight runs in twenty overs including a brilliant twenty runs from Vasudev before he was declared run out during their first match. Kicha scored just one run. We had agreed to play three matches to decide the winner.
Ramki opened the batting for Killiyoor Demons. He played a great innings with twenty runs and at the end they scored twenty nine runs – one run ahead of RL. I got out scoring a humiliating duck.
During the second match, both the teams got out for sixteen runs each and so there was a tie. But we were all too tired as sun started rising above our head. Most of the elders who cheered the players initially all left the ground and the spectator gallery was looking deserted. Drinks interval was liberally taken by everyone, but no one could complain. During the third match, everyone got so tired. Kicha and Subbu had serious private discussions about continuing the match. It was left to our umpire to decide. After almost two and half hours of play, it was decided to halt the match citing the scorching sun.
Finally, based on some complicated rules, Ganapthi Sir declared Subbu team as the winner. Kicha was unhappy and picked up a quarrel with me and Subbu. He threatened us with dire consequences and loss of patronage by his Sundari patti.
Somehow, when everyone was hungry, issues were forgotten and we all returned home to take a dig at awesome puliodarai.