“Considering various aspects, I have reconciled to the fact that we are a married couple”
“Oh, you wasted your time, energy and sleep to come to the conclusion? I would have settled the issue in one minute”
“How, Ammalu?”
“I would have shown your letter to my mother, confirming that you were married to me, the previous day”
“I never wrote such a letter”
“You didn’t. I wrote under your forged signature”
“You forged my signature on the very next day of our marriage?”
“I had to SP. Your behavior on the first day warned me that unless I took such a drastic step, you would get the doubt whether I’m your wife or not, one day or other.
I was right. You got that doubt after fifty years!”
“Are you my wife or a knife for my throat?’
“You get that doubt again. Shall I get that letter from mom?”
Sent from my iPad
Author: shivam
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Musing from a barber's chair
26 degree F. ( – ) 3 degree C. Chill wind. Despite thick coverage, even the walk from the car to the barber sop was difficult. The shop is a neat one, though small, run by Koreans. There is a small temple inside with two Apple fruits placed before the deity.
In Olavakode, a suburb of the Palakkad town, there was a barber shop, close to our house. The owner was Pazhaniyandi, a congress leader who claimed that he went to jail several times and on one such occasion, Gandhiji was in the opposite room and on another Nehruji was in the room next to his. “You should see Gandhiji’s smile and Nehruji’s skin colour” he used to tell every customer, “the first one was silver and the second one gold”. I used to admire his facial expressions when he explained his jail days. Having exposed to the talks of freedom struggle whole day, we children had almost become mini freedom fighters mentally and the barber’s spirited narration of his jail experience was a thriller for me. My hero -worship of him, was however, short -lived. I happened to meet his wife, on the way to school and she told me, “Nuna, kutty, nuna.. VayapolitchAl ayaalu nunayae Parayoo- he is a lier. He tells nothing but lies”
Back home, I enquired Appa and he clarified,’ what she said was true, though earlier, before Pazhani married second time, she used to tell everybody that her husband had followed Gandhiji in his DandiyAtra and went to jail along with him several times.
The truth is Pazhani never crossed the ValayAr forests”
However, I used to admire his khadhi dress, neatly pressed and his Malayalam sparingly mixed with Hindi, which he claimed was the result of his association with Congress leaders in Delhi. And also his song, which he whispered into my ears, while passing the scissors through my hair:
“Porbandharil janichoo Gandhi, Kas-
ThorbhAyiyae veli kazitchoo Gandhi.
Nirayae kollayaditchoru British
Dorayae thoorae erinjoo Gandhi”
Loosely translated, it means, Gandhiji, born in Porbandhar, married to Kasthurbha , threw out the British, who looted us.
Those days, Britishers used to be addressed as ‘Dorais’. Did our ‘Doraiswamy’ and
‘Appadurai’ names originate from Dorai?
That stanza, later I recovered, was from a book titled, ‘Gandhi nAmAvali’ – a cheap book available from a roadside bookseller opposite to our house.
That was the time when the names of Gandhiji, Nehru, Patel, Moulana AzAd and other leaders were floating in the air, soon after Independence.
Even in the midst of such an atmosphere of reverence for the National leaders, I remember having heard a lone voice of protest from a Kalpathy uncle who used to pass through my house shouting abuses against Gandhiji and Nehru. “Traitors!” he used to curse them. Don’t know what was his grouse against them.
One or two rebels were always there in any society. Good for health.
If there is a rebel child in your house, don’t scold or yell at him. Go deep and find out the causes for his protest. There might be something in the surrounding which he disagrees with. The parent should have patience to delve into his mind and ascertain what he dislikes. A rebel child will be of invariably independent thinking also intelligent
and helpful too. Much depends how the parents mould him. It is better to articulate his protest than suppressing deep into his heart and remain silent.
Suppressed feelings will come out one day as an explosion.
Baltimore,
Jan31, 2015
Sent from my iPad -
Pongal greetings to my NIN co-pensioners
friends,
Pongal is a harvest festival, celebrating the arrival of the first crops, the bounty of which ensures the happiness of a society based on agricultural wealth. Makara SamkrAnthi refers to the event of the Sun entering the Zodiac sign of Makara or Capricorn. The farmer gets the much awaited break from his hard work and the society is elated.
Thus starts a season of marriages, temple festivals and other auspicious events.
You know all these. Oldies are good in telling others what they already know.
The farmer struggles with the soil, to bring out the best from it. His toiling tunes his muscles. His sweating flushes out the toxins from his body. I do
n’t move a grass of blade. In fact I don’t move away from the air conditioned room at all. So, I don’t deserve the celebration. I haven’t earned that, unlike the farmer..But I’m good in enjoying the harvest produced by others hard work.
Now, coming to the point, I have restarted doing my yoga exercises, to which I said good bye some ten years ago, when Sri. Narasimha Rao discontinued taking classes on my terrace for some reasons.
The other day, I happened to observe my athlete daughter in law, the youngest one, Meenkashi Bhaskar, training my grand children in our basement. I asked her to teach me too. “You are the most difficult student, I have come across, Appa” she said after struggling with me for ten minutes. But I’m not going to leave at that. She too won’t leave me. Good.
By neglecting, my muscles have stiffened. It will take sometime to make those to obey my orders. But, it is worth trying. Narasimha Rao’s struggle won’t go waste. I want to earnestly continue the Yoga exercises with my DIL’s guidance, whenever she comes from New York.
I suggest you too join me from there, if not already doing any body – exercises. It pays. You will be able to sit comfortably on the floor on SukhAsan if not on PadmAsan. Not a small achievement. You won’t have to stop every five minutes to recover your breathing rhythm while walking. I met a friend the other day in New Jersey, who has converted his basement as a yoga studio, since long . His wife too takes classes. He will be in the 85 plus range. You can guess her age .
Together we win and enjoy the bounty of the new crop, our own healthy body. And also the old crop, our own compassionate children!Cat face
Dr. Kidambi is from Marredpally. He works in a hospital in Florida and is a good friend of my Alludu, son in law, Vuday. He has written on his wall.
“Treat your children well. They choose your nursing home”
A doctor knows how important it is, choosing the proper nursing home. Also, the importance of shifting the unwell there, in time.
Happy SamkrAnthi, prosperous Pongal, peace in mind, peace at home, peace in the society.
Love and regards,
Siva
From Baltimore
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when someone falls
“Ignorance Is bliss”. No, Sir. Never. Ignorance always pushes you down. And pushes you further down, if you can’t climb up. Try to gain knowledge about anything and everything. Impossible. fine. I come down. Try to gain knowledge about minimum things. Even that is difficult. I further come down. Use your intelligence. ‘ I’m not intelligent’. Disagree. God doesn’t send anyone down without adequate intelligence to survive. Use that.
What to do and when to do – that knowledge is important. If not books, experience guides. Experience, in many cases helps more than books. Experience alone can help in certain cases.
Someone slips and falls. No bleeding, no external injury. There is some dust on his clothes. If man, ignore. If it woman, clear that, especially, if she is a middle aged lady, for whom dress is important.
Only dust. No problem. No fracture, it looks. Certainly no bleeding; Very good. She is able to walk and smile too, though her smile is dry. Apparently her brain is unaffected.
Take her home. You save the cost of an ice cream.
Now, sit in a corner and muse- Why did she fall ? It is important to know that. If it was due to some obstacles on her path, due to a mis-step, due to any other obvious reasons and no external bleeding or visible injury, able to proceed with what she was doing before falling,- apparently nothing wrong has happened to her . But, if there were no visible external causes for the fall, you would like to know why she fell ?
Did she fall due to giddiness? Low blood sugar? Blood pressure variation? And worse – Is there some abnormality in the brain ? some undesirable growth ? Don’t you think it is better to consult a doctor? The doctor will ask her a doz.questions. You will wonder why he is embarrassing the charming lady. But, ultimately she will thank you for taking her to the hospital, when it came to light that there was a malefic growth in the brain, which pushed her down. Alarm bell. Immediate action is called for, invariably. a surgery.
It is also possible that the problem was not in the brain but elsewhere. Anyway, only a thorough investigation could bring out the cause for the fall.
Constipation. Anyone can have that problem, especially in the old age. People In my place will have Kadukkai kazhayam. – a home made Ayurvedic preparation for that. It was a nightmare during our childhood, when we were forced to swallow the Kadukkai kazhAyam, an unpalatable liquid, poured into mouth, thankfully only once a month . Within an hour the insipid, irritating, sour, saffron colour liquid was forcefully pushed in, a flood gate opened from the opposite opening, an ejection of every accumulated movable stuff, with the speed of a race horse.
I know one uncle who used to struggle to get rid of his accumulated food waste, making all sorts of noise till his madam, screamed from outside the toilet door : are you coming out or should I force feed you Kadukkai kazhayam? The very mentioning of the concoction used to
sent lightning inside his bowl and like a thunderbolt the content used to come out, allowing a sigh of relief followed by a noise of comfort from the good old man.
I also know, I’m sorry to say, that another uncle who neglected his constipation continuously as well as the considered advice of his wife to consult a doctor only to discover later, a cancerous growth was the cause. Too late, by then.
Simple fever, simple stomach pain- that is how many major problems starts. If you neglect, you are building a path to disaster.
You have to observe your body, your families too. And the person surrounding you.their action or no action, or delayed action will decide how long you will live.
It was for nothing my friend Dr. Kidambi wrote on his wall:
“Love your children. They choose your nursing home”
They not only choose your nursing home, they also decide when to take you there.
I know many cases, where they delayed and regretted for their whole life. -
"What's in a name?"
For a sub zero weather, hot, hot coffee, oru khaara, , oru pustakam gifted by maruman. Dr. Keshav. Last time when I wrote his name as Keshavan, he quarreled, “mama, onakku en Peru sariyA solla varathu?”
I replied, ” you are a Vaishnavan. Your grand father would have prescribed your name and called you KESAVAN, his heart ebbing with pride and enshrined with the form of the Lord with rich, flowing hairs, hands prominently carrying four divine weapons. He would have also murmured, ‘Keshava: Purushothama:” and your grand ma would have added a pasuram, where your name appears:
“வங்கக் கடல் கடைந்த மாதவனை கேசவனை
திங்கள் திருமுகத்து சேய் இழையார் சென்று இறைஞ்சி
அங்கப் பறை கொண்ட ஆற்றை அணி புதுவைப்
பைங்கமலத் தண் தெரியல் பட்டர் பிரான் கோதை-
சொன்ன சங்கத் தமிழ் மாலை முப்பதும் தப்பாமே
இங்கு இப்பரிசுரைப்பார் ஈரிரண்டு மால் வரை தோள்
செங்கண் திருமுகத்துச் செல்வத் திருமாலால்
எங்கும் திருவருள் பெற்று இன்புறுவர் எம்பாவாய்”
I raised my head anxious to see his facial expression.
He had left the scene, long ago!
In the olden days, we used to consult our parents before naming our babies, born after the fourth, up to whom the names were already predetermined.
They used to come out with such old- fashioned names like Paravathy, Parameswaran,subramanian etc,
Their intention was, while calling the kids, we would actually, though unintentionally, remember the Gods and goddesses. But, in practice, names got polluted to PAru, Pammetchu, Chuppani etc.
The present day children know that the original names never remains as such . Wise guys, they don’t ask our opinion at all. They choose their own sweet, short, simple, mobile- fitting, metallic names.
Easy to pronounce.
Imagine the confusion in his class or in the office, if my grandson had to be named Sivasubramanian!
An old story. When the convent principal, asked the name of my first son, me, raised my head, saluted my father silently, And told her, ‘Ananthanarayanan’
The old lady, fair like a faded white rose, her eyes like marbles, gazed at me and without saying a word, wrote on her book, ‘Ananth.’ With one stroke of a pen, the name of the God, the name of my grandfather, given to my son, ceremoniously, with ritual fervor, keeping him on my lap, communicated through his right year, where the holy Ganga flows, has been mercilessly, unceremoniously cut to less than half.
Why mourn ! Ananth also is God’s name.
What was exciting was the kid got LKG admission in a prestigious school, close to home, no donation, no capitation fee, no building fund!
Even such a shortened name is now twisted to a terrible shape by his Gym coach- Naanan!
It is fine. It is the short form of Narayanan!
My DIL, without asking me a word, added my wife’s name to her daughter’s and my name in a short and sweet form to her son. My wife’s name was already short and sweet. Mine became sweet when it was added to my grand son’s name.
My second son too followed suit. Now there are two
Ratna Perinkulams in the family.
We are selfish. We want our names to be in the air, even after we become a part of the air!