A Nostalgia Trip **

The last weekend was a memorable one for us, if there ever was one. The whole family took a trip down memory lane - driving to Penang. In the confined space of the car, we were captive for hours. And to top it all, the CD player & radio were at the repair shop. Ye olde arte of conversayshun was the only way to go. And we thoroughly enjoyed it.

In Penang, we had a field day - visiting all the spots where so many things had happened. We had old photos with us (thanks to JD), some taken more than 20 years ago ! And we re-enacted the scenes, and retook photos. Great fun all the way.

We may do it again in another 20 years.

A touching scene at Kalakkadai ****

Was at "Kalakkadai" , the wholesale market in Penang over the weekend, and saw the sweetest scene. There was this matronly Indonesian woman, haggling in a charming combination of Indonesian – Malay – Hokkien with the Chinese Ah Peh vegetable seller. The woman had this cute baby straddled to her back in a cloth hammock like contraption. They were standing in the congested lane between the stalls, and just then I saw a burly, rough looking Bangla worker approaching , pushing a cart laden with assorted vegetables. He carefully pushed the cart between the people and the heaps of vegetables and as he neared the woman, stopped behind her. I watched as his sweaty face broke into a smile. He made faces at the baby, tickling him with his calloused fingers. The baby gurgled and squirmed. And as this was happening, another vegetable cart, pushed by a large sized man approached. The cart was unable to pass as the Bangla worker was blocking it – while he played with the baby. The large sized man stopped his cart, and waited. He smiled as he watched the Bangla worker tickling the baby, cooing sweet nothings in Bengali. Eventually, the lady sealed the deal and moved on, with her cute baby. The two men continued on with their work, pushing their respective carts along, thankful for the break, and the respective memories it brought back.

Dawn *****

Sunthara Mudaliar, Pannaiyar of Vedalampatti. Highly respected for his generous philanthropy, he was a major benefactor for the religious and social amenities in the village. He had a son, Ramasamy, born 32 years after Mudaliar’s marriage to Kurinchimalar. A miracle baby. Mudaliar considered Ramasamy a gift from Lord Rama, his personal God. Mudaliar conducted elaborate daily poojas for Lord Rama, and the village had a Rama Temple besides the mandatory Mariamman Temple. Kurinchimalar was no less enthusiastic in the rituals that her husband indulged in. The rest of the household, consisting of Mudaliar’s extended family – siblings and in-laws, living under the huge roof of the பண்ணை வீடு , (farm house) participated actively too.
***
Ramasamy, an adorable child, was cherished and celebrated by one and all. As he grew up, Mudaliar introduced him to the various poojas and rituals for Lord Rama. Mudaliar’s dream was for Ramasamy to inherit everything – one day. And continue the worship and rituals for Lord Rama after him.

Ramasamy was a dutiful child. He obliged by participating in every one of his father’s prayers and rituals. Although he often found it tiring and meaningless. Ramasamy considered it an unpleasant chore. He just had to go though it for his father’s pleasure.

One day, 30 years later

The frail figure stood on stage, the white flowing beard his most conspicuous feature. Around him were his men, all in black shirts. “'கடவுள் இல்லை . கடவுளை நன்புகிரவன் முட்டாள் . கடவுளை வணங்குபவன் காட்டுமிராண்டி,” (There is no God. One who believes in God is a fool. One who worships God is a barbarian.) he boomed. “அய்யா பெரியார் வாழ்க ..” (Hail our leader, Periyar), the crowd cheered. Periyar went on to speak about பகுத்தறிவு , (secular philosophy) and the pagan beliefs which were holding back the people. He preached a refreshing new ideology. Ramasamy felt a strange euphoria. Instinctively he knew this was the philosophy he had been seeking.

He came home, and declared to his wife , 'கடவுள் இல்லை . கடவுளை நன்புகிரவன் முட்டாள் . கடவுளை வணங்குபவன் காட்டுமிராண்டி .'

Vaidehi was initially taken aback by this abrupt declaration by her husband. But she dismissed it as yet another passing tendency. But Ramasamy persevered. He was thankful to his parents, but only for his name. This great man, EV Ramasamy Naicker was his namesake. He donned black, and started growing his beard. The pious Vaidehi had always felt quite alone in her prayers and other rituals. But now, there was active resistance. Her husband was behaving so weirdly ever since that fateful day.

Ramasamy the atheist

Gradually the accumulated family riches began bankrolling EVR’s movement. As the money diminished, the extended family dissolved away, and soon, the black clad cadres went away too. But Ramasamy was steadfast. "கடவுள் இல்லை . கடவுளை நன்புகிரவன் முட்டாள் . கடவுளை வணங்குபவன் காட்டுமிராண்டி " he declared.

***

Ramasamy looked at himself in the cracked mirror. He stroked his scraggly beard; then he adjusted the round lensed glasses. Ramasamy saw EVR in the mirror. Vaidehi came in, and seeing Ramasamy, she sighed. They lived alone in the dilapidated பண்ணை வீடு (farm house). A small plot of land was all that was left of the sprawling estate once lorded over by the Mudaliar clan. Ramasamy and Vaidehi were childless, after more than 20 years of married life. Ramasamy knew that his wife was dismayed by his behaviour. She longed for the company of family and friends. She pined for a child.

***

Ramasamy lay on his bed. As his wife snored softly, he himself found sleep elusive. He thought about his life. The days of plenty, when his parents and relatives, and all the villagers had been around. His father’s passing, followed soon after by his mother. The turning point in his life – when Periyar stamped his indelible black mark in his life. It had been all downhill from then. Curiously he recalled the Rama pooja his father used to do. Weariness eventually took hold. Ramasamy drifted into a fitful sleep.

***

Ramasamy was fully awake. But he could not open his eyes. His body refused to obey his will. He knew Vaidehi was just a couple of feet away… asleep, but he could not call her. He tried to move his limbs.. no use.. they just lay there, almost lifeless. Ramasamy was desperate. He strained his body. Now a greater fear took over.. he could not breath. His heart was slowing too… as if ready to stop. Everything was a chaotic blur. Was this death? Then suddenly, in front of him – crystal clear images.

Sunthara Mudaliar stood in front of him. He looked stern but sympathetic. His father beckoned to Ramasamy. He was about to begin the Rama Pooja. Ramasamy hesitated.

'கடவுள் இல்லை . கடவுளை நன்புகிரவன் முட்டாள் . கடவுளை வணங்குபவன் காட்டுமிராண்டி .' The words reverberated in his mind.

But something urged him to go with his father. He could move ! They sat together and did the prayers. At the end, Mudaliar turned to his son, “டேய் , ராமசாமி . ஏன்டா இப்படி அவஸ்த படறே ? உனக்கு வர வேண்டியது எல்லாமே வர முடியாம இருக்குடா . கடவுள் உனக்காக காத்துக்கிட்டு இருக்காரு ஆனா நீ தான் அவர நெருங்க விடறது இல்ல .” (Ramasamy, why are you suffering like this ? There is so much that God wants to give you, but He is unable to do so. He is waiting, but you are not letting him help you).

Ramasamy thought about that. Was his father – the respected Sunthara Mudaliar a “முட்டாள்” (fool) ? Was he a “காட்டுமிராண்டி (barbarian) ” ? His head throbbed.

Dawn

Ramasamy opened his eyes, and sat up. He vaguely remembered the terrifying nightmare. He removed the black shirt he was wearing, and held it at arm’s length for a moment. Then he stuffed it in the wastebasket. He went for his bath. As the cool water flowed over his body, Ramasamy chanted:

“Ramaya Rama Bhadraya…
Ramachandraya vedase…
Raghunathaya Nathaya..
Seethaya Pathaye Namaha.”
His heart was filled with hope and the world seemed brighter.

The Anticlockwise Clock **

Sinister Hues

Two recent events, which on the surface appeared to be good news, have taken sinister hues, on deeper contemplation.

The first is the release of Hindraf’s leaders from detention. As STAR columnist Baradan put it, this was a moment some Indian leaders in the DAP and PKR dreaded. Apparently the fact that several Indian leaders of the DAP and PKR rode the anti-BN wave in Mar 2008 to high positions in Government, while the people who had “turun padang” to get the Makkal Sakti Tsunami going languished in Kamunting and the courts, did not do much to endear these leaders to the folks in jail. Conversely, the release of the detainees went some way in undermining the moral right to leadership of the DAP & PKR Indian leaders. So then, was this a consideration in ordering their release from Kamunting in the first place?

The animosity is already surfacing, with demands for ex-detainee and Kota Alam Shah Assemblyman Manoharan to be made a Selangor EXCO member for his sacrifices, a request that could upset Dr Xavier Jeyakumar, who is currently playing the role of Indian leader.

The next event is the “speed-of-light” registration of the new political party, Malaysia Makkal Sakthi Party, led by former Hindraf national coordinator R.S. Thanenthiran.

The ROS generally moves at snail’s speed under such circumstances, as evidenced by the registration of Parti Sosialis Malaysia which took ten years.

“We applied and have received approval for the party from the Registrar (of Societies),” Thanenthiran said.

Although this party is likely to emerge as a rival to the MIC, which has all along claimed to be the sole representative of the Indian community, the chances are PR parties are feeling more threatened. Thanenthiran has apparently been blaming PR for not “doing enough” for the Indian downtrodden. “They rode the wave and won big but have not delivered on what they promised,” Thanenthiran said. “That is why a new and independent political party for the Indian masses is urgently needed.

He added tellingly: “The new party is independent but will work with any political coalition for the benefit of the Malaysian Indians.”

More ominously, it was reported that the new party has the financial support of top Indian businessmen, some of whom are close to Umno leaders.

“We have friends in the corporate and political world who support our ideals,” Thanenthiran said, adding nevertheless, that Makkal Sakthi was independent and prepared to work with anyone for the benefit of the Indian community.

Gopi *****

“Gopi, my parents are being so difficult. They are bent on getting me to forget you. I thought time would change them, but it seems so hopeless now.”

“Listen Div, our love will triumph. Just give it time. Don’t lose hope, ” Gopi was the ultimate optimist.

Divya’s parents had seen red from the day she told them about Gopi. They had their own plans for her life. The mappillai was already arranged. He was a nice Nair boy, and he was doing so well as a Financial analyst in the States. His side had consented too. And this wretched girl wanted to marry this good-for-nothing Gopi. Gopi – who did not even have a degree. He was an actor, she said. How low could you go ? Sankaran Nair and Kochchamma had put their collective feet down.

But Divya’s clandestine contacts with Gopi continued. She kept trying to talk to her parents. But it invariably ended up as a shouting match. Divya was worried for her dad. He had hypertension. She loved her parents. Especially her dad.

***

Then, out of the blue, a miracle happened. That morning, Sankaran Nair was sitting next to Divya on the couch, reading his paper. Suddenly he put the paper down. He looked over his glasses at his daughter. She looked depressed and teary eyed. Sankaran Nair was overcome with affection. His little girl was hurting. He put his arms around Divya.

“Shshsh… its ok, everything will be ok. Stop crying,” Divya looked up at her dad.

“OK, let’s talk to this Gopi. Ask him to come for dinner tonight.”

Divya was incredulous, “Dad, am I dreaming? What about amma?”

“We have talked about it. Your happiness is important to us. Mind it, we are not deciding anything. Just ask him to come. We will talk.”

Divya was speechless. She hugged her dad.

***

“Gopi, God has done his part. Now it is up to us. In particular, up to you. Make sure you are there tonight on time, and be at your best. We may not get another chance.”

“Don’t worry. Everything will be ok. Just wait and see.”

“7 pm sharp. Dad has this thing about punctuality.”

“Ok, ok.”

***

Gopi decided to wear his favourite black shirt. Divya always said he looked so dashing in black. He slicked back his hair, and inspected himself in the mirror. Great.

***
As his car turned the corner, he was suddenly caught up in what appeared to be a traffic snarl. There was commotion. Police were everywhere. Suddenly someone opened his car door. It was a policeman in riot gear. He dragged Gopi out and hit him with the truncheon. Before Gopi knew what was going on, he was bundled into a police truck. There were at least a dozen more men in there – all in black.
“Hey, let me out. It’s a mistake. I am not part of this group..” Gopi was frantic. A policeman pushed him back roughly.

Gopi still had his phone with him. He had to call Divya. He had to tell her what happened. He noticed with dismay that the battery was almost dead. He decided to call Divya’s dad.
0-1-2-9-2-3-6-2-8-1
“Please… please… answer…..”

“Hello?”

“Sar, I am Gopi here. I got into some problems… the police arrested me because I was wearing black.. by mistake … I got into the demonstration by some groups… “ the phone died.

***

“What ? Hello… Hello … . Wrong number la…” but the line was dead. Purushottaman looked at the phone.

***

It was 7.10pm. No sign of Gopi. Divya was restless. Her mom had a I-told-you-so look on her face. “He will be here amma. He’s probably stuck in traffic.”

7.25pm. Divya went to the house phone, and dialed Gopi.
0-1-6-2-2-3-1-8-8-4

“Gopi, where are you? We are waiting.”

“… So wait la. What’s the big hurry?”

“What ? You were supposed to be here at 7pm. Its 7.25 now. Dad and mom are waiting.”

“So what? I am busy la. I will try to come later.”

Divya couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Gopi, get serious….”

Sankaran Nair couldn’t control himself. He grabbed the phone. “Listen, you promised to come at 7….”

“Dey, what are you shouting for ? I will come when I am free. You wait.”
Sankaran Nair was shocked. He slowly handed the phone back to Divya.

“Gopi… Gopi….” the line was cut. She tried calling again. No luck. He must have switched it off. The three of them sat silently. Sankaran Nair got up slowly and left. Followed by his wife.

***
The youths were rolling in laughter. “The man sounded so angry. I just gave it to him,” Babu had tears in his eyes from all the laughter.

“Dey, lets call him and irritate him some more,” this was Vinoth.

“Dey don’t la. Old man may get a heart attack or something.”

“You guys may be putting somebody in serious problems by your antics la.”

The Cryonic Woman ****

Prashant loved his wife. That was an understatement. He adored her. He worshipped her. He wanted to spend his entire life at her feet. And Prashant wanted to live forever - as long as Damayanti was around. But she died. A freak tragic event.

Prashant looked at Prof Purushothaman. Prashant had never heard of such a thing. Cryonics. The Professor explained that Damayanti will be placed in a box, and frozen to extremely low temperatures. Minus –324 degrees F. This will freeze her cells and her body will shut down. Damayanti may be dead, but not her cells. One day, when scientists had found out how to reverse death, she will be revived by a heating up process. Then her cells will unfreeze and her body will turn on again. And Prashant would have his darling Damayanti back ! Prashant could not believe his ears. Death was not so final after all.

***

70 YEARS LATER

Prashant trembled as he waited by the bedside. Damayanti looked as young and lovely as ever. Although to Prashant’s eyes, she looked a little blurred. As he watched, she opened her eyes. She took a few moments to gather her wits about her. She was seeing the world after 70 years. Prashant held his breath as she looked at him. Tears brimmed in his eyes. His Damayanti was back ! She was looking at him again !

“தாத்தா நீங்க யாரு ? நான் இங்கே எப்படி வந்தேன்?” *

________________________________________________
* “Thaatha, neenga yaaru? Naan eppidi inge vanthen?” ( “Grampa, who are you? How did I get here ? ”)

Woman and the Frog ***

A Woman was out golfing one day when she hit the ball into the woods. She went into the woods to look for it and found a frog in a trap.

The frog said to her, “If you release me from this trap, I will grant you three wishes.” The woman freed the frog, and the frog said, “Thank you, but I failed to mention that there was a condition to your wishes. Whatever you wish for, your husband will get times ten!” The woman said, “That’s okay.”

For her first wish, she wanted to be the most beautiful woman in the world.
The frog warned her, “You do realize that this wish will also make your husband the most handsome man in the world, an Adonis whom women will flock to”.
The woman replied, “That’s okay, because I will be the most beautiful Woman and he will have eyes only for me.”

So, KAZAM-she’s the most beautiful Woman in the world!

For her second wish, she wanted to be the richest woman in the world.
The frog said, “That will make your husband the richest man in the world. And he will be ten times richer than you. ”

The woman said, “That’s okay, because what’s mine is his and what’s his is mine.”
So, KAZAM-she’s the richest woman in the world!
The frog then inquired about her third wish, and she answered, “I’d like a mild heart attack.”

Moral of the story: Women are clever. Don’t mess with them.

Attention female readers:
This is the end of the joke for you. Stop here and continue feeling good.
Male readers: Please scroll down.
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Men : keep going. Women please leave.
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The man had a heart attack ten times “milder” than his wife!!!

Moral of the story: Women are really dumb but think they’re really smart. :P
Let them continue to think that way and just enjoy the show

PS: If you are a woman and are still reading this; it only goes to show that women never listen!!!

(from Amit Bhatia)

Senthil the water sommelier

It was a world of difference between Tharani, his village on the banks of the Kaveri river and Dharavi, this slum which had become his adopted home. Senthil had left Tharani as a naïve youngster in search of a brighter future in Mumbai. Expectation, shock, disbelief, disappointment, despair, and finally the unlikely cocktail of hope amidst mistrust. It had been a tumultuous journey. Senthil lived in Dharavi, the largest slum in the world in abject squalor. But he worked at the Taj, a six star establishment offering the highest luxuries to pamper the trivial whims of the super rich. He was a water sommelier at the Maharajah Lounge.

***

As he walked to the metro station, he passed Dhundhe, tending to his buffaloes. Dhundhe had improvised a hole in the ground to catch the rain water that flowed from the neighbourhood, and it was a watering hole and wallowing pit for his buffaloes. And Dhundhe bathed in it too. “Salaam Senthil saab,” Dhundhe was cheerful as usual.

“Salaam bhayya,” Senthil waved back.

***

Senthil stood inconspicuously at the entrance to the Maharajah lounge. The restaurant offered the finest food and drink in the world. The latest craze was water. Yes water. The Maharajah at the Taj oferred a separate gourmet menu for water. To pander to the indulgent lifestyles of these idle souls, powered by their dizzying incomes. Senthil was the “water sommelier”. His job was to serve gourmet water to guests, in small doses, and at the right temperature.
He held the water menu. On offer to stylishly slake the thirst of the super rich was Apollinaris, the Queen of Table Waters from the salubrious Eiffel region in Germany; Highland Spring Natural water from the mist-swathed Ochil Hills of Scotland; Europe’s renowned sodium-free Spa Natural Spring Water; or the famed French Perrier.
Then there was the Elisha-flavoured Mineral Water in green apple, orange, lychee and peach flavours and the sparkling Mulshi Spring Water.

***

Senthil passed Dhundhe’s pond. Suddenly he had a thought. He stopped.

***

Bhagwandas was grossly overweight and shapeless. He waddled in, decked out in his pure silk suit. He had with him several guests. A couple of Europeans, possibly Frenchmen, and a politician in tow, in an ill fitting grey suede suit. Bhagwandas was loud and arrogant.

“Suno, table for fohrr.”

The maitre’d took charge. “Salaam saab. This way please.”

Senthil waited discretely as the men scrutinised the menus.

“Ze vater varaity eez emazing. Even in Franz we kennot faind ziz many taips of ze vater eezily,” one of the Frenchmen gushed.

“India hash the besht of everryththing,” Bhagwandas was so proud of his motherland.

Senthil decided to do it.

“Sir, besides the list on the menu, we have a new variety. Samples have just arrived. It’s the best there is. Would you gentlemen like to try it?”

They were overjoyed. “Yez, of course.”

Senthil returned with the flask, and discretely poured the fluid in measured amounts into their goblets.

Senthil watched as the men took the little shotglasses, delicately passed it under their noses and downed the water in a little gulp.

“That waz really good vater. Vhat a baady. Ze minerals were suttle. Great stuff. Vat is it called?” The Frenchman was obviously a connoisseur.

Senthil bowed, smiling. “Eau de Erumai, sir.”

The Scene

Varsha looked at the young Chinese girl out of the corner of her eye. The girl was probably a teenager. Pretty and fashionably dressed, she sat at the dinner table of the restaurant, daintily picking her food with her chopsticks. Occasionally she would glance fondly at the man, who sat at the table with her. They would exchange smiles. The man kept talking as he ate.

“Venu, did you see that?” Varsha whispered to Venu. “What ?”

“Shhh. Don’t look now. The couple at the next table. He is old enough to be her grandfather, and look at them. Whispering sweet nothings to each other. Like newlyweds.”

Venu glanced in their direction casually. “My God, she could be underaged.”

“Dirty old man. She must be a gold-digger. Probably a china-doll. I have a good mind to find out who he is and tell his wife.” Varsha meant it.

“Come on la. It’s their business. Why should we worry. Want some dessert?” Venu tried to change the subject. Varsha did not answer. She was watching the man. He was saying something to the girl, his arm on her shoulder. She was giggling.

................

Yati sidled up to the chef, standing by the coffee section. “Din. Tengok kat situ. Rang tua itu dengan gadis China.”

Din glanced over. He just smiled and grunted. They watched the couple for a while. Yati sighed and walked away as she saw a customer enter.

................

Mr Chen was in a good mood. He had just clinched a deal for the shipment of herbs to Saudi. And the whole deal had been above board. The way he liked it. Mr Chen believed in honest dealing. But all too often he had to bend the rules. He resented it when he had to do that. It was bad money, as his father would say. He sighed. And he was happy for another more important reason. Liz was here with him. He looked at her. She was radiant, and her eyes shone. She was such an intelligent girl. Mr Chen was so proud of Liz. He knew she would be somebody someday. And she would earn a lot of money. Good money.

As Liz looked up at him, Mr Chen was overcome with his affection for her. “Gramps, why don’t you take a break. Come stay with us for a week. It’s so refreshing in Hobart. And mum and dad will love to have you. Why do you continue to work and work and work? “

Mr Chen squeezed her shoulders. Liz looked just like her mom, Mr Chen’s only daughter. He nodded. “Maybe she is right”, he thought to himself. “I should take a break”

“Let’s go get some dessert”.

Liz giggled and shook her head. “Gramps, you are incorrigible”

Elizabeth’s note

“I except your kind gesture. Beside that, you always complement me on whatever I do well. That pricks my conscious. With most people, I cant even illicit a “Thank you”. Accept that it makes me feel exceedingly guilty. My father has always adviced me to be respectable, particularly to elders. Most people nowadays are without principals. Many are not even respectable to elders. Of course this is what any descent humane being will do. Well, maybe the degradation of the world is eminent. I am not going to loose any sleep over this though. When I talk about those who lack these manors, I elude to the younger generators, of coarse.”