ABC

When my son was young, both of us used to play around a lot. He was very well behaved, and basically a happy child. I was fun loving. So we could get along very well with each other. We had fun and even though we lived a very frugal life, there was no dearth of happiness.   

Many a times, when my child used to ask for things, I had to refuse buying them as there was not enough money to get it.  

My son had just joined school, and was learning the ABCs. He was studious by nature and could pick up the lessons easily.

He would sing the rhymes and tell me the lessons he had learnt and I used to tape them. I still have those tapes, and the sweet voice of the child is still capable of bringing a smile on my face each time I hear them.

My son was logical even when he was a child, and I could convince him about our affordability of things. He used to be convinced and patiently wait for months before I could have enough money to get him what he wanted. He never complained about the period of waiting.   

But one day, he was irritated about some minor issue and I had to raise my voice to get him to behave. Losing my cool, is something I rarely do and I was feeling sorry for the poor child.

I wanted to apologize and told him, “Sorry my dear. Do not be angry with dad. I will get you some chocolates. “

My child was still angry with me. He said, “ No need, I will get them myself.”  

This was getting to be interesting.

I asked him, with a smile “Tell me, how do you plan to get the chocolates by yourself?”

He replied in all seriousness, “ I will study ABC, grow up and get the chocolates by myself.” Without his knowledge, he was very emphatic about the important role education had to play in buying material things.

I was happy, that the message had sunk into him, that, education and purchasing power go hand in hand. 

Today he is well educated, and is working.

So, when he gave me his first treat, with his first salary, I asked him jovially, “ So you have studied your ABC and are giving me your first treat?

He smiled, his eyes lighting up with memory of the childhood incident, and said, “ Yes, what chocolate do you want to have?”

THREE MIRACLES

There are times in our life, which leave an everlasting impression on us.

If I were to recall those times in my life, I had tasted the most perfectly prepared sweets, I could easily pin point three occasions.

The first was in 1975. It was my second sister’s marriage. The entire house was agog with excitement. Relatives had come in advance to our house and endless preparations were on to make the wedding a memorable one.

Those days we did not have marriage contractors. We had to do everything ourselves, from sourcing of materials, to management and execution.

We had arranged for a cook. His name was Natarajan. He was supposed to be very good in his trade.

We decided to make Mysore Pak for sweets.

Natarajan asked for Besan flour , sugar, ghee and proceeded to make the sweet.

He had a large kadai, lit a flame and within minutes made delicious Mysore pak. 

Mysore pak is supposed to have a hard surface, but it should crumble on biting. It should have a lot of natural holes in it, which is a part of the making process.

Once in the mouth it should disintegrate, with the flavor of ghee and spread the sweetness of sugar evenly on the tongue.

When you eat the perfect Mysore pak, you will not talk, your eyes will close in the bliss of the taste.

This mysore pak was perfect. In texture, taste and flavor.

Till date I am yet to taste a mysore pak as divine as the one I had eaten 38 years back.

The next miracle happened in my marriage in 1982.

The cook had made a sweet called badusha. Basusha is a challenging sweet. It has to have, just the right amount of sweetness [ not too sweet nor too bland], has to have layers, and should be soft and  crispy  enough to sink your teeth in, but should not be soggy. It is a difficult and challenging sweet, which most of the times is a let down.

But this time the Badushas were perfect and scored a 10 out of 10. It well perfectly oblique, with a small dent on either sides and  had a typical ring which were in twirls, just like one of the rings of the Saturn planet. It was also covered with sugar syrup which had dried and formed uneven crust on the surface. Perfect to see. And divine to eat. The Badushas were so soft with the lingering taste of sugar. They were simply yummy. 

Later I had many Badushas in my life but none came close to the wonder which I had in my marriage.

The third miracle sweet came last week on April 14^th . My colleague, of my previous firm, came home to visit me. The day before on 13^th ,  she had prepared Laddus in her house. She had been preparing Laddus, recently  many a times, and with each episode her Laddus had become better in taste. 

Laddus are made up of small beads of fried flour, soaked in sugar syrup, and rolled into small balls, with just one cashew, one raisin and one clove embedded in each of the Laddus. They are yellow in color. The beads should be soft, but firm and should cling to each other and maintain the shape of a ball and not fall apart. For if they are pressed too hard then the Laddus will be hard. Just the right amount of pressure is needed, so that they easily break into 2 halves, if you want to share it with some one.

Good laddus are easy to come buy, and I have had my share of good tasty Laddus.

But this batch was simply perfect. Delicious, mouth watering and a delight to savor. I refrigerated them and ate half a Laddu each night for desert, sharing the other half with my better half. I did not want the Laddus to be over. We stretched the  deserts for a week, and with great relish and greater regrets I ate the last of the wonderful thoughtful gift.

Never had I enjoyed Laddus so well in my life. Thanks to my colleague.

Good food is something we take for granted. But good sweets are the crowning glory for people with a sweet tooth.

Especially for me, born and brought up in Bengal, where no meal is complete without sweets. I relish ,savor , remember with fondness and nostalgia, all the times where I had been lucky to eat the perfect sweet. So far it has been just three times in a life spanning 58 years.  Well there are tomorrows, and who knows which perfect sweet waits for me in the future? 

MYSORE PAK

LADDOOS 

  

BADUSHAS

Barathiyaar's poem

I  like millions of fans,am so impressed with the spontaneous flow, of  the free thinker and poet Barathiyaar. I have tried my level best not to miss the soul of expression. I hope you guys like it too. 

தேடிச் சோறுநிதந் தின்று - Thedi choru nitham

தேடிச் சோறுநிதந் தின்று - பல
சின்னஞ் சிறுகதைகள் பேசி - மனம்
வாடித் துன்பமிக உழன்று - பிறர்
வாடப் பலசெயல்கள் செய்து - நரை
கூடிக் கிழப்பருவ மெய்தி - கொடுங்
கூற்றுக் கிரையெனப்பின் மாயும் - பல
வேடிக்கை மனிதரைப் போலே - நான்
வீழ்வே னென்று நினைத் தாயோ?நின்னைச் சிலவரங்கள் கேட்பேன் - அவை
நேரே இன்றெனக்குத் தருவாய் - என்றன்
முன்னைத் தீயவினைப் பயன்கள் - இன்னும்
மூளா தழிந்திடுதல் வேண்டும் - இனி
என்னைப் புதியவுயி ராக்கி - எனக்
கேதுங் கவலையறச் செய்து - மதி
தன்னை மிகத்தெளிவு செய்து - என்றும்
சந்தோஷங் கொண்டிருக்கச் செய்வாய்...

Ever in search of a meal

Always engaged in small talk

Forever worrying, engulfed in sadness

Busy in activities that hurt others

Growing older by the minute

Enfeebled by disease

And finally dying

Is the fate of thoughtless unproductive mankind.

God, do you think, that I too would follow their footsteps to ruin?

My Master I ask of you few boons.

Grant me these now without further delay.

Banish the effects of my previous bad deeds so that they never seek expressions.

Please, give me a new lease of life.

Please do not push me again into worries

Please clear my anguishes and make me wise

So that I exist in eternal bliss   

OT ego

The other day my neighbor, Chandar, slipped down the stairs, and landed on his elbow. There was a deep cut and some bleeding. 

Since I am a trainer for the medical representatives, he came to me to show his wound. I inspected it and felt that the wound needed some stitches to heal quickly.

So both of went to the nearest orthopedic doctor. He had a X-ray taken to rule out minor fractures. There was none. So it was time to go to the minor OT. I got a TT and diclofenac injections. TT was to rule out tetanus and diclofenac was to bring down to swelling and pain.

Diclofenac , itself causes pain in the area wherein it is injected, not because of the needle but because it is the quality of the drug.

In the minor OT, the technician,  Udaya, had Chandar lower his shorts and lie face down on the table.

I was telling Chandar, that the injection would pain. This statement irritated Udaya, who felt I was insulting his talent. He argued with me telling me that it was not the injection, but the technique used in injecting which would make it painful or painless. To prove a point he told Chandar, “ sir now I will inject you on each hip, one by one. You tell me which is more painful. “ He then proceeded to injected each hip with the respective medicine.

Chandar was in a fix. Because Udaya was yet to stitch his elbow and Udaya’s help would be needed to remove the stitches 10 days later. Chandar did not want to offend him.  Very diplomatically he said that he could not feel any difference between one prick and the other.  

Udaya looked at me triumphantly, and gave me a look that said, “ so who do you think you are? Smart guy!!!”

This event left me stunned. Here I was, who just made a harmless statement, which affected the  ego of a technician, who wanted to prove his superiority over me.

Funny , but point is to be noted.

We are all creatures of emotions. We are creatures driven by our egos. We have to be right, no matter what, have our way every time, whatever the consequence, and prove to everyone that we are great.

Even if it is momentary and fleeting the ego is always ready to brandish its sword and slay any other passerby ego. 

The feeling behind this small event, when multiplied many times, breaks friendship, separates lovers, divorces marriages, brings war and disaster to nations and starvations to humans, and destroys endangered species.

When will peaceful co-existence be a reality and not something you read in books.

Once a librarian named Swarnamukhi, told me, “there can be a cure for cancer and aids, but not for human ego.”

How true. 

SUBURBAN PATCH IN THE CITY

It was in the year 2001. One of the neighbors, Sumathi, gave me a photo of Mother of Aurobindo Ashram of pondicherry. The way of praying to Mother is through flowers. According to her, each flower has a meaning. And if you offer any particular flower in prayer, your prayers will be answered. Sumathi also gave me a book titled “ Flowers and their meaning.”

For example lotus, both pink and white, signify wealth. Red hibiscus signifies energy, so on and so forth.

I began by placing flowers before Mother’s photograph.

That was the time I started noticing trees, plants and flowers as I walked on the roads. I noticed many trees, the type of flowers they bore and the months of flowerings. I also learnt about the perennials, seasonal, creepers, climbers etc.

I became interested in plants. Slowly I got some potted plants and kept them in the terrace in bright sunlight. Initially the plants flowered but all of them died after some time.

I too dropped the idea of growing plants, and started buying the flowers from the vendors.

But the vendors sold only the commercial flowers, like rose, jasmine, marigold chrysanthemum.

So I went to the wholesale market and got flowers at wholesale rates. But this could not be done on a regular basis. Finally I had to settle with the inconsistent flower suppliers. 

Then we moved into our own home, which was in the fifth floor. We had 2 balconies; one long and the other slightly less in length.

I always wanted to own a garden. But how does one do it in the fifth floor?

In the mean time we went to hill stations like, Ooty, Kodaikanal and Yercaud during our yearly trips. Each time we got some plants from these hill stations. These plants that looked so flourishing in the hills, dried and decayed in the hot and humid Chennai weather.

But the love for greenery persisted.

Meanwhile one of my colleagues, gifted me a feng-shui  lucky bamboo plant, when she visited us, in our new house. 

This colleague lives in a house with a wonderful garden, with all types of plants and trees. She had the green thumb, and the plant she gifted me grew up healthy and robust. Very soon I had to change it from original glass bowel container with water, into a pot with soil.

This plant bought with it the much needed luck and thereafter many plants I picked up from the numerous plant nurseries started to grow well.

All the window sills in the house were occupied with pots of different plants. But most of the spots did not get enough sunlight.

So the next question was how to overcome the problem.

 I was in the fifth floor, and could not just leave the flower pots on the   balcony for the fear of them falling on some innocent walker’s head.

So I was thinking, how to solve this problem?

I met a welder who makes gates and rails for the houses. I explained the project to him. He came and took measurements of the balcony. We came up with a design that would hold the flower pots securely in place and fixed the rails on to the side walls of the balcony.

Now I could easily put 10 flower pots with different plants on the balcony. This side of the home got the light form the setting sun and the plants got just enough sun and shade to grow up in good health.

In the other balcony we built a cement shelf, on the top of which we could put up another four pots.   

We had two pots on the window sill, one in the kitchen partition, two near the TV cabinet. I alternated the pots, so that all of them got enough sunlight.

Now my garden had grown, and is a pleasure to watch. I have attached some of the pictures for you guys. Hope you too like it.

Each day as I water the plants, first thing in the morning, it fills my urban heart with happiness, that there is still the possibility of a suburban patch in the city, even though it is just a small strip in the balcony.

the plants on the balcony

the plant on the shelf 

   

Why the great hurry?

Last year the 10^th of August was a sad day for me. One of my very young friends Vinayak Prabhu,  died in a road accident. He was handsome, married for 5 years, had a smart son ,who was 4 years, had a business, which was doing well. Everything was in the right direction, when this happened. A heavy vehicle ran over his pelvis and crushed him to death on the spot.

I had worked with him in his Head Quarters, many years back. He had given me a cassette on Marathi Abhangs. I still have it with me.

Once when he had come to Chennai, I had picked him from his hotel and taken him to my  home. My family and he went to a nearby restaurant for dinner. He charmed everyone with his catching smile, and was so warm and genuine. My son was in the 2^nd year of college. My son was handsome, but compared to Vinayak, he looked just ordinary.

It was a evening of satisfaction for me.

When I heard the  sad news, all the events of the past with Vinayak flashed in my mind in quick succession. it took me quite some time to get over my silent grief.

On 15^th March,  another young man died, on the spot, once again, while riding the 2 wheeler.

This person was my colleague whom I had trained 2 years ago. Very pleasant and mild mannered, with an every ready smile. He was so charming in his behavior and manners.

Through out the  2 years we had kept in touch, over the mobile sending sms very regularly. Recently he was promoted, but died on the job.

So sad ,so meaningless, so unnecessary.

Why this great hurry. Is it better late than never, or better to be late, than to be never?

I still have the last sms he sent me, on 12^th march , at 10.48PM.

“ all of us do not have equal talent, but all of us should have an equal opportunity to develop our talent.” 

Opportunities are for those who live.

I hope this blog puts life in the right perspective.

To do, we have to live.

To live we have to be careful.

May we take all the steps to live well and live long.

Hurrying is ok, but not when it costs your life.

           

OLD IS NOT OLD

I have been training candidates for a long time. At the end of each training I collect the mobile numbers, mail id , face book id, birthdays, marriage days and the birthday of the children of all the candidates.

I wish all of them, on all occasions and send and receive messages from many, on a day to day basis.

Some people keep in touch. Others do not. But that is not of importance to me. It gives me immense pleasure to wish them on their birthdays.

Some of the students are very affectionate. They keep in touch, even after many years of meeting.

To mention a few………..

There was this guy who met me in the railway station for just five minutes, when the train I was in stopped at kaatpadi junction en-route.  

He hugged me warmly and within five minutes filled the meeting with laughter, and love He gave me bag of filled with sweets, savories, cool drinks, bananas, and chocolates.

It was such a grand gesture. That friendliness was the best reward I could aspire for.

As the train left, I carried with me a very warm feeling of affability.

Another student had sent me a box of sweets [ pethas],very particular to Agra, through one of his friends who had visited my office. Unexpected gesture of love was the best surprise, that day.

One more student, a very good and sincere person, with a dependable nature, 

is now working for the police department, He had met me while I was traveling through his town, Krishnagiri . He held my hands with warmth, and presented me with a bag of eatables, as I was traveling further down. He fondly enquired of my health and asked me to take care of myself during my aging years. His concern and genuine care was really touching.

Yester evening I met another student, who had been in touch for three years. He is from Khamam in Andhra. He had started his own business and had been asking for my advice on many aspects of business. I helped him as best as I could. His business is prospering. He had come to Chennai and we met at the Marina beach. He was accompanied by an elderly friend and his sweet and charming wife. They made an excellent couple; so young and lively. He was just 23 and she was 21. They had been married already for 3 years and she was still studying her third year in college. They were so responsible that during these years, they had postponed pregnancy. She was helping in business and simultaneously studying.

We took a bus from the beach and came to Mylapore to have dinner in a clean veg hotel. We had meals. We talked and exchanged ideas, and he sought further advice in running the business well.  We were together till 10 PM, till they boarded a bus to take them to their hotel.  

I too took a bus going in another direction, to reach home.

As I was traveling back I recollected the warmth and affection of all these wonderful friends who, in spite of belonging to a very young generation, could still make an elderly person like me, feel wanted, and gave me a sense of belonging. After all, old is not old when you are surrounded by young loving brethren.