Are our kids born to die on the footboard?

By R Swaminathan

Foodboard travel was recently in the news because of the loss of life of four students in Chennai. While all modes of transport have their own risks these days, public transport especially by road transport buses carries additional disadvantage and is a chief contributor to statistics on road fatalities. We also get to hear about other risks which end in fatalities from near railway tracks and level crossings and highways due to rash driving.

When the authorities need to bother themselves about how to avoid such accidents in buses like closing doors once the vehicle is about to move or just before it halts at a stop, one must ponder how the frequency of footboard travel has risen in recent years due to youth psychology. Young boys going to schools somehow get the courage to cling to the rickety fast moving vehicles with satchels on their shoulders or backs. Many affluent ones never bother as they are driven to the place of learning safely and fetched on their way back home. But the poor ones depend on public transport to commute to the school or college which invariably is quiet far from the place they live. House rent is one factor which increases the distance between the two and parents just can't help it.

What starts as a trial to travel freely on the footboard of a bus becomes an act of heroism to show their macho image in their adolescent years. Much influenced by the soaps and cinemas they often see, the boys almost cultivate a habit to wantonly travel just outside the vehicle to impress somebody. They hang out there in spite of repeated exhortations by the bus crew and also try to board or alight from the vehicle when it is moving. They have seen their own friends or relatives perish that way or be maimed for life and living with crutches. Nothing instils a fear in them.

The kids don't seem to appreciate the enormous and painstaking efforts the parents take to raise them from childhood to manhood, thinking that it is just only part of their duty towards them. Some think they are being reared for the parents' future benefits and security. Influenced largely by peer pressure they decide to even lay down their lives on the roads. Only proper training and teaching at a very young age, say, in elementary school level itself about the road sense and traffic discipline will infuse good qualities in them and prepare them to be useful to family and society. Elders should never lose a moment or opportunity to make them realise on the need to live safely and longer. Cinemas should remove scenes showing rude or romantic behaviour in public vehicles so that the kids don't gain a gut feeling from their role models on the screen. Just as smoking and drinking can be discouraged by abhoring them, footboard travel also can be banned in the visual medium.

The first and foremost question everybody should ask himself is whether he or she was born to die on the road taking risks all the way. While it is another story to be killed due to rash or negligent driving or vehicle failure, man-made deaths like footboard travel deaths should soon become stories of the distant past. Rules are being framed to make travel safe and secure by school vehicles for the tiny tots including employing dependable drivers and through proper maintenance of the vehicle's body and machinery. Peak hour travel can be made easier for school or college going youth if density of the traffic is properly studied and special services are operated where required. There are so many pro-active steps the authorities need to take, but safety must begin at home.

Detachment dawns after the decay of an almirah

By R Swaminathan

Shopping, especially one done at the festival time with bulging purses and after high pressure advertising in the media, can be a delightful or disastrous experience. It brings more delight when what you get costs you much less than at other times. It becomes disastrous when the expenditure terribly overshoots the budget. Those who refuse to see or ear advertisements also yield to the pressure to do shopping, for instance, for storage articles after an attack of their wooden almirah or furniture by termites.

Whether you live in flats or houses, the inferior country wood or plywood which is used to craft sexy furniture, is terribly prone to attack by white ants. The damage is always never known to you beforehand like the worst physical affliction, namely, cancer. It is always too late when you discover the worst is over, and a removal of the existing article/s is inevitable and a replacement is immediately necessary. Thus a compulsion arises to buy something when the discount sale is on.

You search the internet and newspapers for the best offer in the town, visit showrooms, small and big, with the entire family in tow (Children also claim at times they are knowledgeable because they have tremendous exposure in the neighbourhood and on the same TV channels which you watch with them). Small shopkeepers don't seem to appeal to you much because you realise that you have to think several times before you decide. The replacement is going to be expensive, your mind tells you. So the best showroom and manufacturer is the immediate target of your shopping adventure.

You are not jolted so much by the seller telling that it will take at least a week to deliver what you want from the warehouse. That there is no delivery charge makes you happy at once. You place an order with the help of ever ready plastic money and come home singing your favourite tune.

Suddenly, dawns the realisation that it will arrive only after a week. The place has to be cleaned up immediately because you firmly believe that termites breed in geometric progression and across your flat and even the whole building.

Finding a carpenter for an odd job is an impossible task these days. It is the better half's turn to tell you now that you should pick up small skills like using a screwdriver and hammer and break up the cupboard yourself. “Decide to do it yourself.” But the sight of hundreds of termites in a small area drives you crazy. Because the almirah has not been opened for a long time, the entire place has been mercilessly spoilt. The advice comes from the kitchen side, “You should have done something, before, as a precaution.” “All this because teak wood is costly and they use only country wood and plywood, using quick fix adhesive,” you curse yourself.

The only redeeming feature is the support you get from the family members who previously liked only fashionable wooden articles. After seeing the army of termites they feel it is better hereafter to go in for the strong and sturdy steel stuff. They decide to tell neighbours that wooden stuff are well polished but can be cruelly bad for you. They pass a resolution not to go in for more clothes (at least for the time being), and finding it difficult to stack them, they agree to part with old and worn out ones by giving them to the near and needy. In the bundles rolling out of the cupboard are those with dye washed out or sticking to others as well as the ancient wear still kept there (though family members have outgrown that size) just because there may be potential users. Then occurs Vastra Vairagyam, a dispassionate detachment from clothes.

Vairagyam kinds

There are various types of Vairagyam, two of which are well known. Prasava Vairagyam is what a woman who is about to give birth to a child feels: “Never again to conceive, carry and deliver a baby.” But as time passes this disappears and she is in the family way yet again. Masana Vairagyam is the realisation at the cremation ground when someone dear passes away and is about to be cremated: It is knowing the truth that one day all must die and face the same end and why fight between us during this short span of life?.

A third truth is Masiru Vairagyam: When a man has a shave after a long time, say, a week or two, and has pain and difficulty in removing the rough hair growth, he decides for a minute that he should have a shave as frequently as possible. Pariksha Vairagyam is what a student encounters when the question paper is very tough and thinks that his problem is insurmountable. Kadalar Vairagyam is the dispassion that one experiences after a break-up in love or affair or after a marriage that goes on the rocks.

Santana Vairagyam is known well to those who have no children or those with unworthy children. Those without kids have no issues and treat everybody's child as their own. And those with wayward children wish their own are somebody's else. They rationalise to themselves that there is no use having a unit in which younger ones are not obedient children and one day each one has to tread his path to the land of Dharma Raja all alone.

Vivaha Vairagyam comes to parents after they marry off their son or daughter. A father of a girl feels his duty on earth is over after the event is gone through. A father of a boy is convinced on marriage that the son is in the safe hands of his wife and her family who will be decision-makers in future _ he will be least consulted on any matter.

KG or college Vairagyam hits one at the face when he finds the doors of kindergarten (the most sought after one) closed for his lovely kid and college vairagyam comes when there is denial of admission in a leading professional or business school. The victim screams: “What the hell one is going to do special in that place? And after all, there are far better places elsewhere. Others have fared better.”

Pitch Vairagyam is known to cricket sportspersons and fans: defeat hugs you after a prestigious match and you don't want to be crestfallen but show some bravado. You say the pitch ditched your side. Vellai Illadhavan Vairagyam does not need any vyakhyanam: it is the detachment of a person who misses the bus in an interview for a job: he feels the right time has not come for the right post or the Nine planets (as per horoscope ) are not favourable to him at the moment. Realisations as such are many and can't be listed comprehensively. It is better to leave it to an individual's experience and imagination.

Weird ways of compulsive letter writers to newspapers

By R Swaminathan
There are a few newspaper readers who are very much keen on getting their views and comments published in the "Letters to the column." This they do for a variety of reasons, some academic and some psychological. The tribe of those who assume that they are competent to write about any subject under the sun keeps growing day by day. Some can write only long articles packing their views on the subject while there are a few who rehash something appearing in print just to get their name into the column. A very small number write clearly and powerfully, to the point of course. Many never keep the length in mind and assume whatever they write will appear in print.
The itch to write in most cases appears to be irresistible and strong opinions are expressed in such letters to get the establishment correct itself and the powers-that-be to act in better ways. If the view or idea given is genuine, practical and sensible, it ought to be published and there cannot be two opinions about that. Opinion givers influence decision makers and this has been proved in many cases, though seldom acknowledged. In good old days, this breed of writers emerged when papers had a lot of free space to accommodate their feelings, observations and punditry. The writers with great linguistic felicity used to wake up every morning with great anxiety to see their letters in print. Encouraged by the appearance of one piece, they will sit down and write another very soon and despatch it by post, or hand it over in person to the newspaper office so that nothing went wrong in communicating their views to the editor. Thus, many became professional letter writers who honed their skill of journalism by hard work and sheer practice. Their ascribed status would expand in leaps and bounds and they come to be known in friends' circles and even wider associations. A habitual /frequent writer would assume he had a halo of learning over his head with which he could easily please persons he talked to. Some would write in their wife's name either to immensely please her, or to avoid embarrassment for self that might arise from the contents of the letter.
When typewriter was the only available machine to churn out their views with good speed, the letter writers started using carbon paper (they would not easily discard even the faded carbon papers) and addressed their mega pieces to various newspapers, far and near. Thus a writer in Madras could get his letter published in a Bombay paper, and his friends and relatives would call him up on phone to say that they have seen his writing in such and such a paper. In the days of snail mail, however, newspaper offices received the letters after days and due to surfeit of mails, kept the letters pending. The writer could never know if it had been accepted or when it would appear in the paper.
Those with several letters to their credit on a variety of “burning topics and current affairs” go to the extent of getting their published letters brought out in a book form. I know a specific instance in which a member of the united writers forum, (such a forum could easily come up to bring together like-minded individuals in those days), organised a function to get the book released by a VIP.
A letter writer's power and influence cannot be underestimated in those days because armed with their published piece he would go to the authorities and demand corrective action. The authorities also feared the readers' mail column because their acts of omission and commission would be directly seen by the higher-ups and they have to face the music. The local authories even started writing their reaction for a feedback slot when complaints were raised and the grievances were redressed.
One cannot omit a reference to those who go to any length to chase their letters and see at least a small portion of it, even if the piece is badly mauled, just to see their name in print. There are those who argue when the sense is totally changed. The subtle and gross pressure comes through friends' references, repeated phone calls addressing any official in the newspaper office, and multiple emails in the internet age. The severity is amply clear in case of those with an obsessive and compulsive disorder to think and write something for the paper they love much.
Then there are those who use pseudonyms or amend their initials or write in the names of family members, taking numerous avatars as it were. They alter the spelling of their names for numerological or other reasons and this makes the editor's job more difficult _ He dare not correct and incur their wrath later. Their despatches are tailored to suit the columns they are writing for, like the editorial page, citizens' voice or neighbourhood papers. Their handwriting or e-mail ids reveal their identity to those who process the material. But they don't seem to be bothered by all that. Their aim is to write, stop not till the matter is published in the paper. The papers too cannot brush aside the mail from such valuable readers as they get informed comment and considered views through this feedback, and so give space for the loyal and regular fans. When readers develop hate for certain columnists, they don't hide their anger and spew venom in their immediate despatches.
The papers conduct contests for the best and most frequent letter writers to boost their morale and their own circulation! The best ones are given mementoes at functions organised as an image-building exercise. Rarely, we do see the letter writing habit continue over generations in certain families. Enterprising ones conduct classes for the aspiring letter writers. The pupils flock to them to develop contacts and their language, two birds in one stone.
 (This article does not appear anywhere else)

The safe route of denial and procrastination

By R Swaminathan

"No" and "Not now" are two terms which have come to be repeated by everyone and in every household as life becomes difficult and unmanageable each day. For the middle class living in urban slums (sorry, but I can't avoid using such a word to describe cramped old houses in narrow streets), the morning dawns with a complaint of no water in the tap or sump. Fetching water might involve a walk down the tricky stairs or even a kilometre to the hand pump or community tap.

The day starts with the summoning of children from bed and getting them ready for school. When the parents remind them of their home work, they get a reply , "No, not yet done," and "Can't do it now." The well habituated tongues of the heads of families have to compromise for a bare and simple breakfast or just bread/biscuits got from the shop. Reminding the housewife of her failure to get dough prepared for the favouite idlis or dosas brings back an immediate retort: "Don't you know there was no power throughout the day due to maintenance work?"

So the family trots to school or office cursing itself for the tragedy of the morning. At the immediate destination also, there may be hours of fretting and fuming to follow because of the power cut restrictions in force. Once the day is over and the members prepare to rush home, they have to wrangle with auto drivers who refuse to ply.  They say “no” to the rate asked for by the passenger because petrol and diesel prices have gone up and a lot of diversions and traffic snarls force them to take a circuitous route to reach the destination.

'No, not now' is often used by boys and girls eligible for marriage when approached by parents for their consent and job hoppers also use this phrase because recession has put a mortal fear in them about the next vocation. No, not now is slightly different from “No, not yet” and the usage depends on details of the situation which I would like to leave your imagination.

At the beginning of the month when the house owner reaches the family head for the monthly rent, he is told : “No, not now” and “My salary is not yet credited in the bank and could you please wait for a few more days? It has been never so bad and will hopefully not be so in future.” If he is a gentleman he swallows your “no” calmly and leaves the place quietly.

Having putting up with such undependable tenants for months, one fine morning the owner might come and say, “Please try to vacate the premises as early as possible or pay 20 per cent more from next month as prices all round are going up and taxes too.” If you say “No, not now, sir,” you have to start looking for another place as early as you can.

Finding grocer's items and daily consumables like vegetables is another big ordeal when one can't but use, “No, will try elsewhere.” Here also he will soon realise that the situation is simply beyond his control and he has to relent meekly to the market forces.

Back home, if and when he is advised by friends and family members to look for a place of his own to live “for the rest of his life,” he has to come up with a stock reply like,“No, not now” because he is convinced it is not the appropriate time to go in for an apartment when prices are unrealistic and the interest rate too is ikely to be revised too often. When pink papers advise him to save for the life's big occasions and retirement (he is scared to think of that now), he simply bows his head and says “No, not now.” He finds words like “savings” and “investment” only in the dictionary.

An edited version of this article appears on Mindspace page in the TNIE today.

On a tour

Success story of the roadside brokers

One would have come across terms like ‘roadside restaurants’, ‘roadside tenements’ and even ‘roadside romeos’ but the emergence of a new class of ‘roadside realty brokers’ is a recent phenomenon. They operate efficiently without tables, office rooms, fans/air-conditioners, posh furniture and so. Some of them sit on their bikes or any vehicle, and some even operate by the ‘roadside’ or from the terrace. Enterprising ones carry a portable stool — one never knows how long the wait for a prospective client will take. The beep of an SMS and they are on their toes for a rendezvous with a customer.
Their sphere of activity is not limited to finding premises for rent; they prefer dealing in property: selling or buying apartments or vacant spaces. Even locating a flat for rent fetches them a commission of a month’s rent from both the tenant and the landlord. It’s a syndicate-type system where a cut of the commission goes to many hands. There are times when brokers charge for scouting for a place, whether one settles for it or not. Delays are not welcome and too many searches are generally not entertained. Such people are gently avoided.
The news about any premises coming up for rent or sale spreads like wild-fire but care is taken that the news is let out only within the syndicate. Real estate brokers operate much like police stations or post offices — they have more or less fixed working areas. Territories are marked and brokers have to work within those limits.
Good ties are maintained with government officers with whom they interact while on the job. This helps in seeing files through and getting necessary certificates issued. Keeping the officer in-charge happy is the secret behind the success of many such brokers. A darker side of this nexus is the use of muscle power as and when required.
They see ups and downs in the business and never share the tricks of the trade or information about their contacts with clients or wags from the media. There are many things esoteric about what they do and how they do to overcome hurdles in their path. In the end, they emerge successful thanks to the reliable contacts they have; for this some even resort to sharp legal minds to pass through the creeks in the law. They see to it that their clients’ worries are eliminated and the property changes hands. To add flair to their approach some master a working knowledge of astrology, Vasthu, etc., in order to offer ready tips to customers, solicited or unsolicited.
Their tribe will definitely increase in number in future, and their tactics will evolve further.
This article appeared in the New Indian Express Mindspace page on September 8, 2012

With the maids mantra is pamper or perish

You might get a good house to own or on rent in a metropolis like Chennai or even its distant suburbs these days but to get domestic helps especially when both the husband and wife are working is next to impossible. Middle class and well-to-do families count on these maid servants for a lot of their chores in the house right from cleaning, washing to cooking and running errands. The workers have almost formed an association to press for the fixation of minimum wages for various kinds of work they are entrusted to do in these dwelling units and expect to be treated as family members.

More shocking are the obstacles the employers face right from the search of the employee to earning her/his goodwill and retaining her/him on the job so that their routine life can move on. When they have elderly people and school-going kids they become desperately dependent on these servants and have to concede the package they demand in the first place. It is by word of mouth publicity that you get to find a person who is available to work in your house. Only to some extent can you verify the credentials of the person. The qualities of loyalty, punctuality, perfection at work, skill sets, etc., will get revealed slowly day by day or year by year.
Gone are the days when the servants will accept the leftovers in the kitchen for their morning breakfast. They have theirs at their home and come to work, what in a number of places and return home for lunch. Their wages are determined by what you ask them to do _ things like dusting windows and furniture or washing show cases entail extra payment. Gadgets like washing machines are also insisted upon by them. Remember the madam has to sometime put the clothes in the machine and the detergent and switch it on. The machine will do the job and the worker has to only take the material to the terrace to dry on the clothesline. Collecting them back in the evening and folding them up has to be discussed as one of the terms and conditions of service just like going to the ration shop or machine to powder any grains for cooking. Be ready to give liberal tips for getting such extra movement of their limbs.
The maid these days demand access to the ration card for items the civil supplies department sells you at subsidised rate. If sugar is required, it is procured by her for you but she is keen on purchasing the other items like palm oil, dhal, etc for her family needs.The employer cannot pretend to be a consumer of all these items any way. Thus one has to share the PDS card also with the servant maid. This is really pitiable!
There are seasonal demands like festival advance, education advance if the maid has school going children and hospitalisation loan in case of emergency in her family. Such demands like entertainment facility (to join in watching their favourite TV serials/movies) are isolated cases and cannot be generalised.
If there is baby sitting duty, you have to pay for that. If it is festival time it is difficult to satisfy them on the amount they collect or demand. It is rare to find a smile on the servant's face, and expectations go beyond the actual disbursements. If family events come up, the maids know how to tackle the situation and have a number of options. One is to go on French leave and turn up only after the guests move out, giving sickness of self or family member as an excuse. Another option is to ask for extra payment with the next month's wages.
Never argue with them on the genuineness of their reasons for absence because you might lose them after a while. They begin a quiet search for a more decent place through the neighbour's maids and leave you in the lurch all of a sudden. Neighbour's maid is then your enemy. You will end up with hunting for a replacement on higher emoluments or you must be prepared to wash the dishes yourselves. Come village festival time, they appear with bit notices or put in a plea verbally for donations to the deity and function, and expect you to promote the cause liberally. Thus, crises appear in several ways and the hurdles that are placed before you make you think that “maids are from heaven,” and you have to treat them royally forever, or be prepared to face the consequences. Never enter into an argument over non-performance or lack of perfection because the employee will say “we don't see eye to eye on many things” and walk out of the job.

An edited version of this article appears on Mindspace page in the New Indian Express  today.

An ode to the craftsmanship of ancient vessels

by R Swaminathan

Revelations regarding the treasures of the Padmanabhaswamy temple in Kerala sometime back were mind-boggling and the final tally has not come. Nor has the job of listing them been finished. Only Maharajas, Mutts and temples in the past maintained a huge collection of vessels all because a huge crowd of pilgrims or visitors had to be taken care of during festivals or coronation ceremonies/anniversaries. It will certainly be a rarest of rare sights for an individual to see huge and very old vessels like andas (vertical cylindrical vessels), thavalais or metallic sofa chairs still in the custody of ancient institutions assembled at a place. Mutts and temples which used them once upon a time over firewood ovens dug in the earth have no more use for them. Nor can anyone dream of arranging lead coating on the inside surface to protect food from contamination.

These could have been donated to the organisations by the erstwhile rulers or bought for their annual festival time use with donations . When and where exactly they came into their possession is not the topic of discourse. That they can no longer waste firewood and pollute the atmosphere while doing the cooking is a stark reality today and moreover, modern appliances have come to occupy the kitchens preparing thousands of meals or other prasadam. One can see such hefty vessels in a place like Balaji temple in Tirupati and the staff use wooden reaper-like object to lift and move them around with the stuff inside.

What aroused a string of serious thought in me was the sight of a lorry being loaded with such huge tavalais, andas, etc., recently near Chennai for despatch to a destination I could not guess. May be they were being sent for polishing or lead coating. Had a John Keats been there today, he would have written instantly “an ode to the ancient Urn.” My wild imagination made me think of the possibility of such vessels being disposed of by weight, as some individuals do while packing up and leaving India for good. Most of those who buy such old vessels (even small ones) smash them up, reduce them to sheer scrap and melt it again for making some new utensils. A flourishing trade in them like the ancient idols is hopefully not there.

The vessels which appeared before my eyes, before being despatched elsewhere I -know not- where, induced me to think that the owners themselves could keep them for posterity by creating a museum. There are umpteen collectors of such ancient kitchenware as decorative pieces in bungalows across the country. Some small thavalais become flower vases or lamps are just kept on wooden stools or tables or hung from the ceiling as an ornamental decoration. They no longer see a wick or oil or they are not lit up. The owner takes pride in his possession and that is it. Kumbakonam vessels are famous and welknown to everyone. These wont be shining at first glance but can be washed with tamarind any time to get the glow of new vessels. Tambalams for example are a fancied lot in many large families even today.

Coming to the consignment, any suggestion to give them all to a government owned or run museum is atrocious because they may disappear from there any time as have many precious idols gone abroad , and will never return. There was a move to create a strongroom for precious idols or icons at Tiruvarur years back so that the treasure of Tamil Nadu is preserved for ever. These vessels could have been sent to such a strongroom for safe keeping. It will be a sad story if they are turned into a liquid to take another shape another day and at another location. Great craftsmen must have used all their ingenuity to cast and mould them in such shape and huge size and the articles are a sure pointer to the culture and civilisation that once existed in these parts of the country.

Another possibility is that the vessels had been taken out by the insitution for polishing and transit to another place for safe keeping. If that is happening it will be most cheering piece of news for lovers of artefacts. Also bothering me is the question whether they simply had been brought for a physical inspection and return to their original abode.

Jumping queues in search of Jagatgurus

By R Swaminathan

Chaturmasya Vrata is observed by all heads of all religious mutts when they choose to stay in the same place for four months. These four months are important for charity, austerity, meditation and offering oblations in fire because their pursuit brings forth countless merits, it has been believed for centuries. Compared to the noble deeds done at other times, multifold benefits will accrue now, we are told. Therefore, this season is religiously chosen by many pious people to visit their guru and obtain his blessings.
This is a great opportunity to enhance one's spirituality and take a step forward in the direction of liberation, every individual is given to understand. The people go with all the family members in search of the camp of their guru, who in most cases they think is a Jagatguru. The morning is spent by the spiritual heads to deliberate and discourse on the scriptures with Vedic scholars. Then they do special poojas, and more importantly before that, they set apart a few hours to bless their devotees who come from far and near.
Any form of penance imposes restrictions on food that can be consumed. This is necessary to reduce our dependence on the external material world and enhance our inner spiritual power. There cannot be anything better than the control of one's senses in spiritual development. Some gurus impose upon themselves strict restrictions on the food they take. They are supposed to totally avoid all fruits (including mango whose season will be ending shortly), all vegetables, all leafy vegetables, curry-leaves, lemons, spices, cashew and dry grapes. This list is not comprehensive and is meant only to suggest things not to be taken during this period. Use of tamarind is also a taboo. What is practised by the great leaders is also supposed to be followed by the believers so that they can purify their body in order to fine tune it to pursue the Ultimate Truth or Reality.
But in modern times, we see a lot of aggressive activity around these camps. People queuing up in large numbers and jostling for space and jumping lines or using special entrances to get audience from their jagatguru ASAP. With plates or trays of fruits and dry fruits, etc. they have no patience to wait. VIP passes or oral influence is used to get quicker access to the guru _ all to list one's grievances or say one's prayers. Some gain proximity to their guru by arranging for special worship, all of which at times appear highly commercialised.
The devout believe that if their worries are put in the ears of the jagatguru and he smiles and gestures his hand, it is enough to eliminate their problems. There have been great sages and saints who preferred not to hear mundane complaints like getting a marriage alliance, medical relief or progeny, etc. for which the earthly solution is more practical and rewarding. But who tries to reason whether transfer or promotion orders can be got that way? The people in their desperation push one another and go to the front to shout their problems. Once they do it they are very much relieved. Those seeking spiritual advancement can pursue a saintly life at home and think of the great teachings and scriptures instead of seeking publicity by visiting their gurus. Instead they seem to be more keen on marking their presence at the camp and making others see that they could do it and without much difficulty and more successfully. There is profanity rather than piety on such occasions at such places which is regretable.

An edited version of this appears in the New Indian Express today.

Education is no place for crooks

Education is no place for crooks

R Swaminathan

It is not proper to blame just the parents for the present craze for admission to engineering, medical and other professional courses. Of course, the dream of their wards getting at the entry level the salary/emoluments the parents manage to draw, or drew, at their exit stage is behind the hunt to land their students in courses that lead to plum jobs here, or preferably abroad. But the colleges, deemed universities and various coaching institutes are also responsible in a large measure for this mad race to get into courses with or without the necessary aptitude.

Of course, the argument that merit should be the deciding factor is a very impressive one. Also, that there should not be any attempt by the parents to block seats in top colleges before the results are out is also fair and good. But don't we see the universities and colleges spending a fortune on advertising and excessive campaigns to sell their seats as it were?

Hoardings and bills as well as glossy brochures and mega advertisements have been put out in an unprecedented fashion year after year. The colleges tom tom the courses they offer, the facilities they have at the international level, the unbeatable faculty they have with them. All this to lure the parent community with their wards to make it to them or break their future prospects.

The colleges struggle to become deemed universities to acquire greater autonomy and promote themselves by leaps and bounds. They acquire acres of properties, including virgin/farm lands, to erect their insititutions, infrastructure and hostels to accommodate students from far and wide. They go to any length to get recognition and to keep the oversight authorities in good humour time and again. They convert their bright students into young faculty members because it is often difficult to win and retain budding teachers who later turn into able professors. But again once they grow in stature nothing can prevent them from deserting or moonlighting.

Capitation fee has become such a commonly accepted term these days. In fact, it starts in subtle form right when a kid is put in pre-KG or LKG in the form of donation or higher fees in fancied schools. It continues upto the senior secondary in search of the right route to top position in public examinations. The coaching institutions enter the scene to augment what is available in the regular schools and promise top ranks and definite success. So, everyone has turned it into a flourishing business and the commercialisation has assumed shameful proportions now.

Political parties and politicians find (or found) the industry to be a gold mine or Kamadhenu with which they can get name and fame and tonnes of money in the long run. In fact, the entry of politicians has made these corridors of learning dubious entities. They decided with their money and muscle power to take on the old and established ones and their connections ensured only success for them while others had to run from one authority to another for recognition and to fight court cases to retain their affiliation , for example.

The competition between the old and new institutions has become so acute that they find that only advertising their placement success stories alone can keep them in business and at the top. So some of them place huge advertisements giving statistics of students/thumbnails who landed in great companies here and abroad, and the chances of on-site or off-shore jobs. The HRs hunting for freshers sometimes are in the pockets of top colleges so that they can push the going rate for seats is another sordid fact of life these days. The companies at times to stand to lose when the recruits drop out owing to lack of skills or when their ignorance gets exposed in the middle of the induction programme.

Instead of just blaming the parents and students who blindly obey their parents, or are made to do that, we should also look at the unscrupulous ones in the education business and exhort them to leave the field to genuine teachers and educators, and not see it as a sure way to mint money. India in the early centuries did have a selfless education system even the Britishers envied and we still have great geniuses everywhere in the world holding the name of the country on a high pedestal. Our humble request and prayer will be : Let crooks vacate the place and let genuine scholars be groomed by dedicated professionals.

Commodification of education is most detestable. The learning for earning has been replaced with earning through learning. The mass production of professional degree holders has led to abundance of heads but not skilled personnel who can be readily deployed . Not only have the employers who grab them in placement interviews have found them unsuitable for their immediate needs but also feel overburdened during the induction programme. Thus some leave the job before they really get placed and the vacancies are not really filled.

An edited version appears in the New Indian Express today.

TV mania cripples the modern man no end

by R Swaminathan

Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who immensely influenced political, sociological and educational thought centuries ago and is still remembered for his great saying, "Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains" might be tempted to revise his statement as " Man is born free but everywhere he is hooked to the idiot box." The TV mania has become such a great and universal affliction that it is time for the medical fraternity to find an easy way to wean people away from it.

TV has grown manifold in recent years with all latest features of interactive viewing all thanks to technological advances. In the beginning the transmission channel was only one and was on the air for a few hours in the evening. Now they are available 24X7 in several languages. It mesmerises people of all ages and convictions, achievements and avocations and corporate giants and almost every manufacturer or promoter of goods, services and activity is sure that the purchasing decision is made before the set and works on subtle ways of influencing the human mind.

Some in every home sit before the set right from the morning till midnight and even beyond that if they find the programme/s interesting, seeking to gratiate themselves through information or entertainment. Priorities of living are readjusted to keep eyes and ears glued to the TV shows. Early in the morning, channels have found that what interests many are religious topics and astrological predictions. Astrologers of all affiliations and calibre carefully predict what will happen for the viewer through the day, and those who get a warning sit through the following programmes on places of worship so that their nerves are soothened.

Later in the day, the housewives and senior citizens sit for melodious music , culinary coaching or serials that try to portray the reality in that house or neigbbourhood. Familiarity with the characters and sequences keep them bound to their chairs. They don't mind if their lunch is skipped or is bare and frugal. Reality shows and game shows have become immensely popular with housewives as well as growing children who are goaded to do something similar to the participants. "Strive hard, work better, you can do it," they are exhorted.

The reality shows make viewers sit at the edge of their seats as they appear to know answers for most of the questions people are struggling in the show to answer what with lifelines. There are occasions when they learn many things simple but wholly new to them. They share their conquests with their spouses returning late at night. When young kids perform like the professionals for winning huge prizes., the parents marvel at their feats and preach the lessons to those who happen to be their pupils.

Sports events like IPL or world cup matches are a big draw and are watched from start to finish. Two matches a day is not a big thing as seen recently.

Of course, the bread winner must be cursing himself after he came to see the electricity bill. This analysis will be incomplete if we don't mention the programmes by doctors of alternative systems of medicine answering people's phone-in questions and debates, and discussions on current topics or recent crimes. Who will find a cure for TV addicts? Are they are not contracting physical ailments and stunted mental growth due to this fixation? Or is this problem not a serious one as yet?

What the D-Day meant decades ago

The results day, then and now

By R Swaminathan

The public examination results day nowadays is total contrast to what is was in the 1960s and 1970s. The present generation which gets to know even all details of the marks in what is now called the plus-two examination almost immediately around 11 a.m, thanks to the mobile and internet revolution will be simply astonished to know the highlights of the day in those days. Newspapers will give the numbers of successful candidates in special suppliments which mostly would be printed in the afternoon and sold at a special price. There will almost a stampede when boys will run behind the hawkers carrying bundles in cycles or crowd the shops where the paper is sold.

The heroes of the day will be invariably the students who appeared for the examinations, and the parents will be home bound syaing all kinds of prayers. Usually, the boys will be on the streets while the girls (much fewer in number in those days as compared to boys) will wait at home for their brother or father to get the paper and see what happened to them. The boys will be with their companions (and even support the unlucky ones in their moment distress) and reach their home only hours later. The parents would have no phone or communication link in those days as very few people could afford to keep a telephone at home and they had to wait for hours to book a trunk call to share the good news with relatives in different/distant cities.

The newspapers used to have their quota of mistakes in proof reading, and the acts of commission and omission had a telling effect on the lives of some students who used to take the extreme step when they did not see their number. The results will be given in paragraphs with the full number given only at the beginning and where continuous numbers of candidates successful had to be revealed it would just say from this number to this number. When the word "to" is omitted in such cases it meant disaster for all the students in between those two numbers.

The regular newspaper of the next morning sometimes used to issue a corrigendum for the errors of the special issue, setting the record straight as it were. By that time many a parent would have thrashed up the ward in public. Another special feature of the newspapers carrying the results was that they would have numerous advertisements put out by leading tutorials like Minerva Tutorials and Tiruchi Tutorials telling the failed candidates (more specifically their parents), “Don't grieve, there is September.” In those days supplementary examinations used to be held in September for the failed candidates to sit again for an examination in all subjects. In the later years, a scheme was introduced to allow examination only in failed subjects and to award a “pass” to those who were not keen on further study. Such students would not be admitted in the next class which was called Pre-University Course (PUC). There was no provision for retotalling or revaluation for a fee like now.

The failure implied a shock of their life for both the parents and students because those who sat for the examination in September stood lesser chance of admission in PUC the next year. One was not sure if one could /would clear the papers in the second attempt. There used to be some who would take several attempts to emerge successful in the SSLC exam. Worried parents would rush to the famous tutorials to ensure their ward passed with good marks in the next examination. The newspaper advertisements will proclaim that admission to the tutorial would mean “100 per cent pass” or “ definite success,” etc. Some used to move to other streams like Bombay Matric and Banaras Matric or Andhra Matric which the students and parents thought could be cleared more easily. The tutorials would specialise in coaching students for these types of matric examinations. They would have special classrooms or special hours for ladies (girls sometimes used to be overaged to be called so)! The coaching will be mostly by retired teachers.

Now we find girls outshining boys in marks as well as ranks year after year. The statement of this gender performance has more or less become a cliché now as in the case of elections when news headlines proclaim “Women voters outnumbered men” in some booths. There was no ranking subject wise or language wise in those days. In the later years some newspaper gave importance to the examination by awarding cash prizes to the toppers. Now we see every newspaper going after the toppers and their families and reporting the success story and the aspiration catalogue. It was difficult to know or even reach the top rankers. A few days after the results are announced, people would make a beeline to places like Tirupathi and Palani to thank the God/s for their spectacular or miraculous success.

There was a time when newspaper sub-editors and reporters had the privilege of getting to know the results in advance. In the days of the letter press, the results in hard copy would be made available to newspapers to get the text /numbers composed, (proof-read, this is more important) and then release them after the embargo is lifted. When the computer printouts started appearing, printouts in book form were given to the press and those close to the press would give the numbers in person or over phone to know the result a little earlier than others. That newspaper men were a respected lot in the season. Then came the floppy or disc. With the advent of the internet and websites, you get to see all information on your PC and IITs have started even posting the key and answered receipts after valuation on the net for the student to know how he has performed and how he has been valued. Thus there is a world of difference in knowing the examination results between then and now.

(Read a shorter version in the New Indian Express today)

Coriander Aroma Goes Missing in Kitchens

By R Swaminathan

The New Indian Express, Mindspace page, May 19, 2012

The day’s routine is becoming increasingly difficult for the bread winner, the male, as well as the homemaker if either of them is forced to visit the nearby vegetable vendor. Not that they have to plan their requirements well ahead if both are working. They are most of the time in for shock as the items they think they have to acquire for their routine and special preparations (to please guests or deities on special occasions) are just not available. The problem is not that of availability but that they are not available for the notes in one’s wallet. Haggling over this essential ingredient is nowadays a common sight. Coriander leaves, known as Pachai Kothamalli, find a special place in south Indian homes and they play a significant role both in traditional and north Indian cuisines, for  flavour and medicinal properties.

Cookery book writers don’t fail to mention this for garnishing just about any other dish. A few days ago coriander leaves became as important as gold because they just disappeared from the handcarts of street vendors and in Chennai retail chain stores a small bunch (small in this case would be a gross understatement) was being quoted at `15 (weighing just 35 grams). None could be blamed for pinching themselves as here is an item that not long ago used to be given free of cost along with other curry leaves by vegetable vendors. It was more like the free soap one got on buying a costly shampoo.

Now the bunches of these leaves are not only expensive but contain fewer stems and leaves. At the rate at which the prices of curry leaves and coriander leaves are skyrocketing soon they will vanish from the kitchen table. Like tamarind paste or tomato puree, we can’t just think of alternative options for coriander leaves because the green leaves add to the beauty of the preparation and the aroma will disappear the moment it is turned into a concentrate.

There used to be good times when thick and big bundles of coriander leaves used to be dumped into the  buyer’s hands at the rate of `10 for three bundles. Of course, it was a different story that most of the buy would rot the next day given the weather conditions and excess of moisture. Vendors often pushed these leaves to get rid of them before shutting shop for the day much like flower vendors who quote exorbitant rates in the morning and resort to a firesale in the evening. 

Whatever be the case, it is unimaginable to think of a meal without the pinching-pleasant aroma of kothamalli hitting one’s senses and alerting all the olfactory nerves. For these leaves to continue to be a part of our cuisines it is important that their prices hit terra firma rather than floating among the summer clouds.

the great grandson of the day

Dear friends, you will be wondering how we spent 11 a.m. to 1 p m today. Mom's day became a grandson's day for a few hours in our house.

i had no calls on my mobile in the morning. that is the usual practice or trend. i had put my mobile for charging last night. suddenly i remembered to disconnect and keep it ready for my office. this i did at 11 a.m. i did not find the mobile on the table. deci...ded to give a call using the landline. dialled a wrong number. for a moment thought the cell has
reached some other hands. then my son called . the mobile started ringing but the volume was feeble.
we traced it to the speaker of the sound system. shreyas had disconnected the phone mounting the diwan and a stool to reach the table. he had put the mobile into the hole of the hoofer speaker of our panasonic system. the ringing osund came from inside. we tilted the speaker in all directions only to see the mobile travelling inside but never coming out.
i disconnected the speaker and tried all possible tricks in another room.. but of no avail. tried using all available screw drivers. nothing was fitting because the screws behind the box were star type. I got one from my neighbour but it had a blunt head. then my son reminded me of a screw driver set he had given me long ago of a foreign make. i could not find the suitable one.
he did and opened the speaker rear end with the help of his wife. at last, the mobile was taken out. by that time two hours had gone. My son had to leave his biriyani and come to help me. My wife decided this morning that he cook his favourite biriyani on mom's day for all of us. My wife had to give the finishing touches because he rushed to my screams for help to take my mobile out for the day. finally, the mobile was retrieved from the speaker.
only yesterday i was telling my friend about the cat in the sombu story ( R K Lakman's).
this is another type in this century. enjoy the company of kids. but better give no mobiles to kids and also no crisp notes (as visitor). you never know how they will handle
them. also avoid using the mobile in trains when u travel with open windows. You have a chance of the instrument going out into the open when the small one gets angry or his impulse is thwarted. so at least for me, my grandson was in the limelight and not any mom in the house today.

Differences over demands keep VIP hostage

Differences over demands keep VIP hostage (TNIE, May 8, 2012, Mindspace page 8)

By R Swaminathan

When I switched  on the TV early this morning there was a news flash that our governor had been kidnapped to the Chaoist Land somewhere in the wild west and negotiations are expected soon. Within an hour details began emerging that two negotiators have been named and are on their way to the spot where the VIP was being held. Naturally, they should have been taken by a copter because of the risk involved in delaying the relief work.


The negotiators got a warm welcome in the Chaoist Land and immediately sought to know the demands of the kidnappers. The list was long and one of them  agreed to mention only a few because of poor tower connection. They wanted crores of money in foreign currency (for what purpose, God knows?) and lorryloads of drinking water as drought had set in due to summer and confectionery items manufactured in the last two months.

The negotiators told them immediately that it was difficult to get these. It was required to get RBI permission for the foreign currency and those who had it in their trunks would not come forward to give any now even in this emergency. Drinking water is what is already scarce in our country and making it available cannot be discussed. About confectionery items of recent origin, it was difficult to get them even in the biggest malls which stock heavily and naturally for a longer time to decorate their gaping shelves and impress their customers.

The negotiator thought it was his turn to offer what he could assure to the Chaoists. He said he would secure the biggest malls, government engineering colleges and super speciality hospitals. All in the near future. The Chaoist leader laughed and said : "Who wants your malls because we have no adequate population to register footfalls and claim a success in the market? We don't want the engineering colleges because we know what kind of products are turned out after four years of schoooolling. No to hospitals because you will build them today and tomorrow instal giant machines and equipment  and charge lakhs of rupees for diagnosis, dialysis and transplants of vital organs. The colleges attached to the hospitals will have plenty of seats for admission for our sons of the soil but each set will require Rs 20 lakhs in capitation fees."
The negotiator realised that time was running out and desperately asked the other side to come up with realistic demands to convey to the command centre. The Chaoist leader asked for metro trains to run long distances 60 or 70 feet below the ground. The metro stations will enable the setting up of their government under ground far from the range of intelligence operatives. He did not want Volvo buses or duronto trains running over the ground because he did not want to hear of casualties of his kin in unmanned level crossings. And reminded the urban visitor that Metro trains will not pollute the environment and destroy the flora and fauna close dear to their heart.

The negotiator as a digression asked the Chaoist why they were still in the food (arms) gathering stage instead of setting up processing centres and marketing strategies.

The Chaoist asked the negotiator to shut up: we know processing will invariably result in middlemen and commission ranging from 7.5 to 15 per cent. Marketing does not impress us because we believe in more demand and less supply whereas modern techniques work on the reverse principle.

The negotiator asked the leader how to find money for the rail projects. He suggested the setting up of a Tribal Infrastructure Development Authority and the creation of a special purpose vehicle for that. The negotiator could not cope with the pace of talks with the host and decided to leave the spot for consultations with his superiors.

The victim, our govenor, has to wait for at least 72 hours for the talks to resume. Let us hope for the best. The media need not worry about story for the page one and the package on the inside page giving reactions of the leader's families, inlaws and admirers, fans and partymen who have to come together minus their differences and simmering discontent.

A Life Full of Trash But no Cash

-- 


A Life Full of Trash But no Cash



R Swaminathan



A search for a roof starts with a 2 BHK apartment to accommodate a nuclear family
and guests including parents; but a
few years later, the place seems to be uninhabitable, and a change becomes
absolutely necessary all because the
three-decade family has accumulated huge luggage that is mere junk. The electronic
waste problem is assuming
incredibly high proportions not only for the nation but also for the individual family.

The love for gadgets and appliances grows even as the family becomes bigger and
prosperous. Some of them become scrap
due to wear and tear and when spares are not available or when it cannot be
serviced. Sleeker models with latest
features replace the old faithfuls. Ask any couple who have lived in a metro for
over 10 years about the useless wares
they have with them. The list will invariably start with the mixie, followed by the
VCR and MP3 players, tape
recorder, two-in-one radio, transistors of various sizes, grinder (old stone model),
boxes of cassettes, etc.

No one wants to discard electronic waste perhaps because it will fetch a measly sum
when sold as scrap or because the
absence of it will leave an empty space on the shelves. Those who have become
computer savvy in recent times have
monitors lying packed in a corner, and even some peripherals quite obsolete now. The
LCD monitor and other hardware of
the PC will be new. Usually the first acquisition is a showpiece and the count of
junk starts from the portico and
extends all the way to the kitchen and balcony.

The kitchen loft is full with all the old utensils, given right from the time of
marriage (but never used), the old
water purifier (it is still there because you get only `1,000 and that too in
exchange for a new model costing about
`10,000), a vacuum cleaner from the '80s and a wooden crate or iron trunk full of
dolls (marriage sentiment again!).
Coming to the balcony, you find a heap of plastic trash of all hues and varieties
and empty containers of cosmetics
adorning the rack. Your heart breaks because you are offered just `2 per kilo for
the plastic and cassettes.

You end up calling the pest controller because of the legacy that is lying with you.
Anyone picking a quarrel with his
better half over things to get rid of is simply told he deserved to be dumped in the
Bay of Bengal. If you are a brave
heart, you will take a peek into her almirah full of clothes, most of them never
revealed to even the man of the house
because he would curtail further spending on those items.

It is a naked truth that no family even cares to dispose of the inners and
undergarments, storing them for a rainy
day. So you can imagine why you have to look for a bigger place to live --- not
because your family has grown in size
but simply because there is no room to keep your trash. “What is this life if full
of trash but no scope to convert
into cash?”, I wrote a verse, reminded of the poem  Leisure by William Henry Davies.

A lurking danger in an ATM

A lurking danger in an ATM with glass panes above on the first floor.

There are a lot of freak accidents possible in Chennai and the threat can be lurking in maanja thread and even in a glass pane of a bank branch which houses an ATM on the ground floor. For example, we have the Indian Bank branch in Royapettah on Gaudiya Math Road. A few guys were waiting outside the Royapettah branch of Indian Bank on last Saturday (March 31, 2012) at 11 a.m. and there was a customer (a lady) spending unusually long time to do her work inside even as  the to-be victim of the day waited with two others on the road outside the ATM patiently for his turn. Suddenly, there was a sound signalling breaking of a glass pane. Pushed with great force, it sputtered and crashed on people below and injured only one person badly in the head.
A member of staff of the branch on the first floor pushed the window pane outside to let air in because there was a power cut at that time. The glass pane broke into small pieces quite unexpectedly and there was a shower of glass on those below including a member of stafff and a member of public. The bag the latter carried was filled with glass pieces of all sizes, all small ones only.Thank God.

The window glass pane which you see in IT companies on the sides to give a rich look broke into small pieces in the air and a shower hit the head of the member of public who started bleeding and crying for aid. Deep cuts in the head and bruises all over the body and blood gushing out of the head injuries prompted a bank staff to rush the victim to Isabel hospital for first aid and the bank shelled out nearly Rs 2000 to dress the wounds and for first aid. Two stitches were put to arrest the blood flow.The victim with blood gushing out was advised a shower in a nearby parlour or even a tonsure to get rid of possible glass pieces on the scalp by the duty doctor in the casualty department!

Tablets were prescribed for the victim who took an auto and returned home. He has been advised dressing on alternate days for ten days before the stitches are removed. Luckily, the glass pane broke into small pieces in the air before coming down. If it had come down as a small plate, the victim would have been no more to tell the story to any one.That the staff in the minor OT in the same hospital were very courteous during the first dressing is another positive story about people who vowed to serve patients.But on Wednesday when the victim went to the same Isabel hospital for a dressing of the wounds, he was kept waiting outside the mini operation theatre where all the rooms had been occupied by doctors to attend to their regular patients. As the ATM glass victim had no doctor connected with the treatment having been attended by the casualty ward duty doctor, he was made to wait indefinitely. He lost his patience after two hours and moved on to Ashwini Soundara Nursing Home on Kasturi Rangan Road where  he got the dressing down in five minutes for the same fee of Rs 50. When he went to the bank to look for the manager, he was not there and was still on leave. The staff who came with him to the hospital on Saturday was however there and was profusely thanked for the timely care he showed to the bleeding victim. The victim decided not to pester the bank further with bills for dressing or removing the sutures and his travel expenses any longer. He hoped to recover fully within a few days.

A piece of advice  here for banks: do not have glass panes which open outside just at the entrance to any ATM in front of the branch. Like Many other bank ATMs, this Royapettah Indian Bank ATM machine has also been badly positioned in the sense, there is no curtain or poster behind the glass and one can see the customer collecting all this money from the road. Ideally, many ATMs face the road and the customer draws money showing his back to those outside. This is absolutely safe for the public. Hope all banks will take proper steps to ensure total safety at the ATMs very soon.

Banks should not take on rent premises which have no setback space in the front and  locate an ATM there. The security person can become a casualty any day any time, and the cash in the branch may not be enough to compensate his poor family, due to the negligence of the bank staff impelled to open the window when there is a power failure.

Please write on your FB page hidden threats to citizens so that places which the people frequent are made safe from at least this angle, if not others about which read  now and then in the media. 

A picture taken earlier this year in Srisailam

30 years ago

There can be no greater soul or person than your father who made you what you are, and my salutations to my father MKR on this great day which I cannot forget in my life.  

Dear friends and relatives.

I am very much tempted to write this blog because technology has enabled us a lot to record things for posterity and immediate benefit to those who care to read. This day thirty years ago, precisely March 12, 1983, my father shed his mortal coils and reached the place of Eternity and Bliss as God/Mother desired he should. I was hardly 30 years old and had not settled down in life though I had a job for five years in the Indian Express as a budding sub-editor, after being placed by him under the care of Shri CPS, fondly called as Master. In 1978, I happened to raise my family and subsequently with Divine Grace was blessed with my son and daughter. All that before I could even to some extent realise the personal, social, emotional, economic implications of a full family.
It can't be said that it was too early for my father to leave as he had already completed 75 years and discharged almost all his duties in spite of having to choose a freelancer's career half way through his life with three sons born late in his life. He had married off two of his daughters when I was a small baby.
He knew only his commitments to his profession and nothing else, and was reminded dutifully about other tasks to the family by my dear mother every now and then. He did not know how to lavish love and care on relatives who visited him because his world was different from anyone's else, we normal beings. So nearly 25 years he spent with his sons and that is the period about which I am aware of because I was not born till May 1953. It might seem to many from the surface that he did not express fully and openly his love and affection as immensely as do parents of today right from the moment a child is born. You cannot also say that he was very cold and as hard as a rock in familial relations. He had his own priorities which ordinary mortals could not fathom rightly. But his genius bordering on a superhuman existence and eccentricity enabled him to assess all individuals who interacted with him. He would cultivate only those whom he wanted/liked.  It was difficult to get into his good books for anyone for that matter.
Mr M K Ramamurthy, sorry I have not mentioned his name so far because still I feel I do not have even a spec of his greatness to claim genealogical benefits. But among the three sons he had in the later part of his life, I had the boon or benefit or rare opportunity to interact with him because he depended on me for nearly 15 years to get his despatches typed, to be sent to the Economic Times or Deccan Herald by writing which he eked out a portion of his living. My mother saw to it that he paid a pocket money of Rs 100 a month  in those days for that shabby job I did (called typing because I could not follow his subject or possess the required vocabulary.Thus he taught me many things.)
His stock market insight got him a better portion of his financial assets just as the property he purchased out of his savings to settle down in Gopalapuram (just before my second sister got married). He did not raise any loan or pay EMI! Of course, in the years that followed he managed his finances with an OD bank account. But he never shared his cares/worries with anyone in the family and so no one knew how he managed those things we call crises ( of any variety).
I should say that if he had make a frank written statement of his achievements on the personal front my father would have had a lot to record as disappointments. First, the marriage of a daughter (third one) failed and she came home. The eldest son did not graduate or settle down with a decent avocation, and even I, the second one, did not show signs of great potential for achievement by then. His third son who managed to scrape through with his BA degree was placed in an advertising agency and till my father exited this world he did not have anything to regret because of his last creation. The history of my younger brother, after my father's time, better need not be recorded because of its bitterness for everyone.
The fact that my father had a little hearing difficulty enabled him to devote all his attention to reading books, journals and newspapers and keep acquiring knowledge and creating publishable reading material out of his incredible intelligence and the solid education he had received in the British raj, the Madras Christian College.
He most often did not bother about who was around him and whom he should pamper, at least in a small measure by present day standards of acceptable social behaviour. He lost his mother at a very tender age, missed his family life with father due to his hostel education and career in a distant land like Calcutta and interacted very little with his brothers and sister due to developments after the passing away of his father. However, his relationship continued on even keel with his sister who passed away months after him.
His association  with the Mail newspaper in Madras, the Statesman in Calcutta and the Indian Express, Madras, the Indian Finance (he served this journal before and after his Express stint) and later on with the publications of the Times of India Group like the Economic Times and Deccan Herald in Bangalore till he breathed his last enabled him to create published material which he and we have failed to collect and keep a record in hard copy. Today I am very much ashamed for this negligence. That the children did not learn enough or much from him for their life and career was yet another disappointment for him. I should admit that here.
Apart from being a journalist par excellence with unparallelled memory of history and economics (Indian and world), (he was called a walking encyclopedia by his friends and colleagues) , he was very  pious all my years with him and he joined my mother in Japam and Pooja every day, and he was a great admirer and follower of the Paramacharya of Kanchi Kamakoti Peetam.He used to visit him every year a number of times, and had audience with him on many occasions. The Mahaperiyawal recalled his association with my father when I went for his darshan a few years later. That he was a Srividya Upasaka must have earned my father the right position in Devi's Sripuram for Eternity.

I had gone out of Chennai for a family wedding in Palani and before I could return on a Saturday morning to type is weekly stock market review for Deccan Herald (on March 13),he chose to sleep forever and far away from us. As such his last despatch could not be typed. No one could read his handwriting, and he used to dictate his articles to me whenever I sat for typing. I could not decipher anything he had scribbled. Only two stenographers in his lifetime could type my father's articles and even they would have a quota of mistakes which he corrected in the draft.
He prefered buses and cycle-rickshaws and never zipped past in cabs/cars though friends offered him that luxury. He never got trapped in opulence.
But my father's blessings and noble principles of living within one's means and simple living/high thinking, reading a lot to learn more and spread more knowledge, etc., continue to guide me, and I shall cherish all that till the call comes for me one day from the Lord.

I wish to offer my best and most dedicated Pranams at the Lotus feet of My dearest father this day with all the love I failed to show when he was with me, and he has to pardon me for all that I did not do to rise up to his expectations and be an independent man by the age of 30 by which time I had rushed to complete the constitution of what in my later life became my family. For my part, I could not in right measure assess and reciprocate the love he had for me. True love unexpressed and unreciprocated that was the equation between him and me as father and son.

R Swaminathan, March 12, 2012

Shreyas on his grandmother's lap in Chennai

An ancient banyan tree of Mosur family falls

From: swaminathan ramamurthy <swamynathan55@yahoo.com>
Subject: A requiem for my periyamma
To: "g sudhakar kaduveti" <sxganapa@hotmail.com>, "kaduveti vidhya" <gvidhya_6@yahoo.com>
Cc: "chandrasekar wiiprowallah" <chandrasekar.swami@wipro.com>, "Gayathri Bharatwaj" <gayubharat@yahoo.com>
Date: Thursday, 5 March, 2009, 7:56 PM

An ancient banyan tree of Mosur family falls   But its strength will remain for years in the close relationship of the kith and kin that descended from it. My beloved and most revered Bala Periyamma is no more. Tears are not enough and even words won't do to describe the noble qualities we saw in her _ patience, tolerance, showing poise in love and affection to one and all of her descendants.   The courage and conviction with which she withstood all her trials and tribulations may not be known to the present generatrion but they certainly need to be told to the next generation so that they realise that it is very rare to find a person of that stature and pristine purity and glory for generations in India or elsewhere.   An embodiment of silence but stern views, an affable person in all situations, unlikely to get provoked that easily, winning the praise of almost all who will come in contact with her. But she always would put forth her viewpoint in all clarity and with no ambiquity so that there is no ill-feeling in any one. It is difficult to dislike her or her decisions.   She became great and famous not because of the number of children she brought to earth but because she was able to raise them to become  good persons who in turn brought up accomplished children, and also hold them together for years and until she shed her mortal coils. (Please remember the void that was there in my periyappa's life after the first marriage failed. She mended the situation at the earliest and in the best possible manner. Accepted a stoic and spartan existence in a village of little comfort of those days and lived there for over three score years.)   Only a person like Mr LAV Raghavan, my eldest athimber, will be able to recount today vividly the circumstances in  which she toiled but flourished with a great finish.The unexpected departure of her husband did not demoralise her, nor did the demise of two sons years back ( the first (Mr Ekambaram) in spite of a heart surgery and the second  (Mr MKB ) was a sudden one) shatter her much and for long. The resilience you see is unbelievable and unparalleled in any family.   To us in the Gopalapuram family, she was Bala Periyamma. I loved her very much because I liked her approach and attitude to people of whatever worth or importance in life. And she liked me also ,equally in great measure, as I was in attendance for all family functions.I had gone to see her in late October and will miss her hereafter.   Always stunned I was (in the wake of circumstances in our family that led to its disintegration in recent times) how the Kaduveti people were able to hold on to their original properties for decades and also raise the children to fruition and also brought to us stories of success of the Mosur family scions abroad. I am not stating this out of any jealousy but out of sheer astonishment and perhaps dismay that it is not being replicated in several other households. It was possible due to her best wishes and blessings. The beginnings are always small but the achievements need to be great. that requires determination, total commitment and sheer hard work and above all sweet will. The sweet will is what I saw in abundance in my Periyamma. May her soul rest in pace.   In grief,