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  • Ammalu series, updated frequently

    “What is your opinion about our new servant maid ?”

    ” She joined us hardly a month ago. Too early to comment”

    ” I joined you long long ago. What is your opinion about me, Ammalu?”

    ” Too late to comment”

    ————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–
    ”who is that good looking woman going behind our new neighbor?”

    ”Can’t be his wife”

    ”How “

    ‘Which good looking woman, other than me, walks behind her husband, in this town?”

    ” Wah, You are rocking, Ammalu”

    ————————————————————————————————-

    “Ammalu, I want to confess a sin committed”

    ”I am the wrong person . Visit the church next door and speak to the Pathiri.”

    ‘”It is  to be confessed to you and you alone”

    ”Did you speak some nonsense to your ex colleague Ammini?”

    ‘Never in my life, have I spoken a word to Ammini” .

    “Oh, this lie I can’t handle. You need a pathiry’s help only”

    ————————————————————————————————————————–

    Ammalu, did  you see my comb. It is not there on the bathroom table”

    ”Where do you usually keep your comb.?”

    ”In the dressing table drawer”

    ” Then, why did you go to bathroom in search of it?”

    ”Because, things in this house don’t stay in their place . They keep walking on their legs.”

    ” They do, I agree . But they come back to the original place sooner or later. I just saw your comb  returning,  after finishing its job in the bath room”

    —————————————————————————————————————————————————–

    ‘Ammalu, God always lives in the heart of good people. I can hear His heartbeat within me. How will you understand all these complicated issues ?”

    ”Complication, where? you are a good man, God lives in your heart, you hear His heartbeats . So simple and straight forward.”

    ” I thought you would bombard me with questions. “

    ”Such as?”

    “How did God enter inside your heart, if the heartbeats you hear are God’s, what happened to your own heart beats etc’”

    ” Only if I doubt what you said then those questions arise, right?”

    ”OMG, that statement of yours puts me into difficulty. I have now started worrying what happened to my own heartbeats.”

    ————————————————————————————————-

    “What happened to all my coaching on Advaitham, Dwaitham and Visishtadwaitham, Ammlu?”
     
    ” They all have come back to you with added merit. I have been adding them every day in the sambar, rasam and other dishes I have been serving you “.
    ————————————————————————————————–
    ” I have decided to help you right from today, in your kitchen work. How do I do that, Ammalu?””By keeping away from the kitchen till the food is ready”
    ———————————————————————————-
    “Any woman would like to have a few minutes for her own purpose, to sit in a corner, muse on her childhood, her parents, play mates, siblings etc. After finishing all my work, feeding you and children, cleaning the kitchen, When I try to steal an hour for me, you yell,’ Ammalu, kaappy’”
     
    .”You forget that I too have my own childhood and playmates to muse upon and it is to ignite those thoughts, I ask for kappy. Is there a better stimulant than kaappi ?”
     
    “Can’t you prepare one cup just for your own need ?”
    “I can make hundred cups but it won’t be as  tasty and stimulating as your make”
    “Wrong age for you to look for stimulants. Is is OK. I will make your happy just  for taste. “
    “Yes, Ammalu, just for taste “
    ————————————————————————————————
     
    “Ammalu, happy valentine’s day”
     
    “I know only Sunday to Saturday. What is this new day? “
     
    “Valentine’s day is a special day for a man and woman to express their love for each other.”
     
    ‘Love is not to be expressed but to be experienced. Love loses its charm when expressed.”
     
    “But how will the other know if love is not expressed ?
     
    “If the other knows only through expressions, he or she is not worth to be loved”.
    “Ammalu, even animals express their love through their body language”
     
    “Body language yes, but not through mouth”.
     
    ”Your ideas are antique, Ammalu”.
     
    “Love is antique, but ever fresh”
    ————————————————————————————————–
     
    “Patti, respecting your age and good deeds, I have already allowed you ten minutes extension and if you don’t follow me instantly, I will throw my rope around your neck and pull you here.” The lord of death issued the final warning.
     
    “Another 5 minutes, please ” the good old lady pleaded, “let me complete the task on hand”
     
    “What noble cause this worthy woman is anxious to complete !” wondered Dharma and unable to contain his anxiety, peered through the window.
     
    Patti, the good grand ma, was polishing her nails !
     
    “At 95, this woman sits on the floor, stretching her limbs, bends her body and prunes and polishes her nail !”. He could not contain his surprise.
     
    Yes, you guessed right. He gave her 20 minutes.
     
    If you too could do, at 60,  what the old woman did at 95, I am sure that you will go far  beyond 100.
    ————————————————————————————————–
     
    ”If your false pride makes you believe that you are the only woman working hard, I have nothing to say, Ammalu”

    ”You have already said what you wanted to say”
    ————————————————————————————————–

    “I love you, Ammalu””That is a stupid statement. If I have to know about your love only through a stamp paper affidavit from you. your love is worth only the value of that paper.
    I should feel your love even while you are away, even in my dream, even in my thoughts.The rest is only a publicity stunt”
    ————————————————————————————————-

    ”I know every face in this women’s group except one”

    “Don’t quit that easily; it could be your wife’s”

    ———————————————————————————————
    ” Bharyaa roopavathi satru’ – lovely wife is one’s  enemy’,  is a wise saying, Ammalu”
    ” I know that. I also know what you are going to say next . ” I don’t want to have an enemy in my house and that is why I married you’ right?”
     
    ” Not exactly, but ….”
     
    “I also know the next line of the wise-saying- ‘putra satru apandithah :’ unscholarly son is one’s enemy – Your scholarly father didn’t want to have an enemy in his house and that is why he packed you off with me”

    “Not exactly, but—–“

    ” you have said it, my lovely, scholarly husband; not once but twice”
    —————————————————————————————
     
    “Ammalu, I am standing for election as an independent candidate. Go and tell every friend of yous that I am a honest man “
     
    “You are a honest man. Anyway, give me Ra. 50,000 for canvassing “
     
    “Rs. 50 thousand just to go round and tell your friends ? That is looting “
     
    “OK. Don,t give a pie. I will give five Rupees to our servant maid and ask her to tell every one that you are NOT a honest man”
     
    “OMG, Ammalu, you stand for election. You are more honest than me and better  suited for a political post “
    —————————————————————————
     
    “Where is that guy who used to stand on the bench and give orders, in our class?”
     
    “‘He is sitting in the Supreme Court bench now”
    ————————————————————————————–
    ” I’m a good man”

    “How you say?”

    “Because everyone says so”

    ‘Who is that every one?”

    ‘My wife”

    ” But, I can confidently tell you that you aren’t a good man”

    “How you say ?”

    ” Because everyone says so “

    ‘who is that every one?”

    ‘My wife “

    ———————————————————————–

  • From Baltimore to New Jersey

    From my first son Ananth’s house to  my second son Atchuth’s , it is about 3 1/2 hrs drive. When we started around 7 P M , the sky was very bright.  Seated in the front seat, I looked up and was amazed at the celebration in the sky to bid farewell to the Sun . The whole of the western horizon was golden as if thousands of big, polished brass lamps had risen high from the woods, all of a sudden . Have you been to Vaikkathashtami, the annual festival  at the Mahadeva temple in Vaikom?. At late night, there is a huge elephant-procession there. The  glittering idols of the gods suddenly shine high above your head carried by lustrously caparisoned jumbos,  when powerful torches, soaked in oil, tied to the end of high poles, rise in large numbers. The Baltimore sky was like that. What is the importance to day, I ask myself and self-answer. Baltimore sky is like this every evening but I don’t come out and join the divine celebration. Fixing  my eyes on the screen of a stupid computer or close to the pages of a book I waste my time, I waste my life. In fact, all the skies are like this every evening in summer, whether in Palakkad, Paris, Baltimore or Baluchistan and then why do you boast, ‘I am from Palakkad?’.  I ask my self and laugh. 
     
    ” What is that Appa?”,  asks my son. ”Nothing, Kutta”, I tell him .
     
     Hei, wait a minute . Look at the left side, not far from the sun. There is a large assembly of clouds and they are all of pure silver shade, brilliant, lavishly bright. They are of different form, different shape, different size. Some  like lion, elephant, crocodile or polar bear. Some like my grand mother holding a stick, some like the vegetable cart puller who shouts in front of my house, every morning, ‘paalakkoora, thottakoora’. How are these bright silver heavenly bodies maintaining their original color completely unaffected by the overwhelmingly golden colored  bright golden rays of the Sun, I ask myself again.  I then turn to  the sides.  The thick woods, oaks, pines , maples and other earthy bodies are all in high spirits, maintaining their dark green .  How are the woods remaining unaffected by the glamour of the Sun? How do they retain their originality, I ask myself . Now I withdraw my eyes from the woods and look at myself. Pant,T- shirt, jacket . Why all these ? Why don’t you cover your lower part with  a single white cloth and be bare-chested as you used to be in Hyderabad or Perinkulam, I ask my self. Why are you allowing yourself to be influenced by the local dress code? Why can’t you  remain unaffected like the oaks, pines and cherries around , I ask myself and laugh at the reply I get.
     
     ”Are you OK Appa?”  asks my son.  ”yes I am good. I tell him” 
     
     ” Appa, would you  like to have some coffee?” asks my son. I am not answering. 
     
    I am gazing at the sky, alternately at the woods.  Suddenly, from nowhere, like a huge serpent with thousand hoods, darkness leaps and swallows the sun, clouds, the whole sky. I am sad. I divert my eyes, look to my left, then to my right. Everywhere the demon darkness has swallowed every thing. I look at the speedometer- crossed 80. 
     
    Gold or silver, it makes no difference for the darkness. Good or bad, wealthy or poor, pious or sinner, it makes no difference for the Death. I never worry about Death, but ‘ why now ‘ I ask myself. I blame the demonic thousand-hooded serpent , darkness in the sky, all over the woods, for my thoughts on Death. ‘What a fool you are ?’ asks someone from within and answers,’the darkness is the mother of brightness. the sky is in the process of conceiving now and in a few hours another sun will be born.” 
     
    So, there is hope and we live on hope.
     
    “Appa, coffee” Ananth asks. “hm” I nod yes.
     
     How many suns I have seen born and dying ! how many clouds I have seen being formed and getting liquidated ! So, there is no birth or death. Just a process of recycling. And ominous darkness overcasting the sky is a very normal affair. It is a part of the Nature’s dance . If so, why call it ominous? 
     
     My son has gone to pick up the coffee cup. I can laugh loudly now, as I am alone in the car, at my own  madness of worrying about death or disparity in my dress codes. Let not mind distinguish between gold and silver, light and darkness, birth and death, I tell myself. All are one. overcome the illusion that they are different, I tell again, to myself.
     
    Ananth hands over a hot cup of coffee. I sip the hot Starbucks. ”Our Hyderabad coffee is coffee. Intha coffee sukham illaida” I tell my son.
     
    Now it is his turn to laugh.
     
    I don’t ask him, ‘ are you OK, kutta?’
     
  • Mothers' day musing part 3

    Mothers’s day musing.  part  3
    The good old man, who succumbed to the call of his palate, ignoring  the request of his caretaker paced the length and breadth of the big backyard of our house, unable to bear the weight of his repentance  and lamented, ” I was condemned as worthless and discarded by my  family and it was Manni who provided me a shelter and feed for years. What an ungrateful animal am I ?  I didn’t fulfill a simple wish of my caretaker.”
    “It is OK, Kunjappa, you and me didn’t expect that your Manni would leave us so soon”. My farther tried to console him”
    ” True. But Manni knew about her impending end”, he replied. “Do you know that on the eve of her death, she had cautioned  your wife to ensure that  the servants do not  exploit my helplessness and innocence . How could I ever repay my debt to such a sacred source of compassion? She is no more ; I am orphaned, I am orphaned”
    He sat below the mango tree extending his legs and holding his head with his palm.
    ” kunjappa, get up and have some fresh coconut water “.  Appa encouraged him to come out of his remorse.  ” I need your help now in conducting the last rites of my mother lasting nearly two weeks . You are the eldest member of the family now and if not you , who else  will guide me?”
    After he was served with two fresh tender coconuts from the tree, my mother gave a small cloth bundle to Kunchappa. “Your manni wanted this to be handed over to you ”,  said she.
    Cleansing his soiled and moist hands, Kunjappa took the cloth bundle from my mother’s hand and when he saw that it contained a few unsoiled currency notes, he wept again, beating  his chest . ‘Manni, manni, why did you leave me and go?”
     Appa used to keep a small cash box near his mother’s head and deposit some money in it now and then. The old woman wanted to give a parting gift to the hapless relative and had thoughtfully, handed it over to my mother after Kunjappa had left for feasting in the nearby village.
    ”Amma, why don’t you hand over to him when he returns?”, my mother had asked patti.
    ” I wanted to give him some money for his personal use since long, but have been forgetting.” replied Patti, ” you keep it with you now and hand over to him whenever he returns.”
    That was a turning point in Kunchappa’s life .”Anantha, I am with you now on” , he told my father, holding his hand, “and that is the only way for me to make  up for the injustice I did to manni. Count on me for any help, now on.”
    He meant what he said. Then on, he became a right hand to my father , in his business activities.  Kunjappa , with his central protrusion and a snow white poonal across his shoulder, could be seen in  the kitchen, in the cow shed, near cash box, among the servers, everywhere in the hotel. Earlier, he used to enter the hotel only for food.
    Appa used to pay him some cash every month for his help in his business. Kunjappa  bought some jewels for him and wearing the neck- chain and rings, he was majestically sitting in the cash collection counter one day, when an elderly woman, well dressed , entered the hotel . She was none other than his wife.  He was excited, confused and became speechless.
    She leaped across the cash counter and catching hold of her husband’s hand went to my father and shouted, ”Anantha, why are you treating my  husband like a caged parrot? “
    Her  verbal attack stunned everyone there.
    “What nonsense are you talking?”, admonished the old man.
    ”Vayai moodikkindu irunkol-shut your mouth”, she retorted. ‘This shrewd relative is exploiting your venerability and extracting work from you”
    Appa didn’t answer instantly.  After serving the woman some snacks and coffee, he  replied, in a firm but polite tone. ” Chithy, you threw him on the street and I  gave him protection. I have been paying him for his services an amount more than I would have paid to an outsider. Right now you are free to take your husband back home. I don’t want to keep him for one day more.”
    Kunjappa  initially, refused to go with her. ”Anantha, she has some unfair motives to pull me away from here. Don’t succumb to her pressure”, he pleaded, “allow me to continue to be here”.
    ‘Kunjappa, she is your wife and has every right to take you back home,” Appa advised,  ” go with her now. You can come back whenever you want to. The manager’s seat  will be always vacant for you.”
    Then he called Kunjappa aside and whispered in his ears, ” if she goes and spread the canard that I was treating you like a slave and refused to relieve you, don’t you think that would be a scar on our family’s reputation ?”
    At last, he agreed to go with his wife. My parents prostrated before the elderly couple and gifted some new clothes and money. Kunjappa didn’t accept the cash. “You have given me plenty of money. What I need now is the ‘kaidthudatcha kasu’ with my Manni’s blessings. Appa gave him a mutilated coin. ( While setting fire to the body of the elders, a few coins are kept in  their palm and the burnt coins are reclaimed along with the ashes, collected the next day. Those are preserved as the parting gift of the departed souls).
    The old man walked  reluctantly behind his wife.
    “Kunjappa, come back soon”, exhorted my parents, while he was boarding our horse-cart.
    “Sami, vegam varoo; jnangal kathirikkum- come back soon, we will wait for you”, the hotel servants pleaded .
    Kunjappa slowly turned his head towards the crowd and replied calmly, an usual smile painting his face, ” I will. I will be back soon to die in Manni’s bed room, in the same cot where she breathed her last.” He came back running to hug my parents , when his swollen eyes dripped a few drops on my father’s shoulder. Before leaving, finally he whispered into my father’s ear,” you should lit fire to my body”.
     After a couple of months a messenger came to inform his death.  Appa went immediately and performed his last rites, as he had no children and he was a daayadi, blood-relative for my father.
  • Mothers' day musing part 2

    Mothers’ day musing- part  2
    The person presently occupying the honorable chair of my mother, is older to me by only 6/7 years and therefore, is more like an elder sister rather than a mother.  She is none other than , hold your breath, my own and only mother- in- law, whom we all in the family affectionately address as TVM, short form for the city she lives in.  Since my marrying her daughter, she has been with us for every good or bad occasion, births, weddings, deaths, illness, summer and winter in the families, my own and extended. She speaks, as her daughter used to, only when she should and never pokes her nose into affairs which doesn’t affect her directly or indirectly, a rare MIL-virtue. She is respected by all my relatives for her calm , gentle, unassuming and  non -interfering nature. I visit her often while in India and talk frequently over phone.  A gist of our tele-talk, before my recent USA trip:
    ‘ Bye, TVM, leaving for Baltimore this night”
    “Glad that you are coming. The Sreekanteswaram temple festival is to begin tomorrow”
    ” Take an auto to go for the Padmanabhswamy temple festival. Don’t go by walk”
    ” Yes, first you come here. Tapioca pappad, I can always get”
    The audibility acumen of the SIL and MIL being in such a peak, where is scope for our fighting?
    There was another great mother- in- law in our family. My mother’s. It was she  who snatched my mother from the jaws of death, when a smallpox epidemic invaded our villages and consumed almost everyone around. The knowledgeable elders of the village who had seen such catastrophe earlier, examined my mother’s condition and advised my patti to shift her to the thinnai, front open hall, where such hopeless cases are placed before their last journey. It seems in some places, the hopeless victims used to be shifted to the woods far away from the village and left their to rot and die. This is only a hearsay .
     My grand mother flatly refused to obey the village elders . ”My Cherunatturi Bagavthy will not snatch her from me”, she said. In fact she was the only person who did not lose hope. Sitting by the side of the  patient, fanning her body with a bunch of neem leaves and cleansing her throat with her finger wrapped with a clean cloth and moistening it with drips of liquid slowly and carefully dropped, the great mother- in- law was able to stop the advance of the Death at the gate. The Unconquerable refused to surrender totally to a meek woman, head and body covered with a single piece of white cloth. The Death snatched  her first and precious grand child, my elder brother, who was just an year old baby and also my mother’s one eye. That unalloyed affection towards the daughter in law continued till her last breath and my mother too never forgot her life-savior. In fact, right from the day one, my Patti had developed immeasurable love for her DIL, as my mother was mother-less and in her early teens , when she entered our ancestral house.
    Patti, my paternal grad mother was an epitome of womanhood. I was 6/7, when she passed away but my memory about that slim, fair, small woman walking on her fours, is vivid in my mind. Her presence was felt everywhere, in my father’s shop close by, in the kitchen, near the well where the servants use to gather and chit chat, in the hall where the vegetable vendors from the nearby Coimbatore, used to dump their farm produces in bulk required for the hotel, though she was confined to her bed in a separate . Appa, after pulling down the shop shutter, every night, used to come to his mother, make the bed, though it would have been already made by mother, sit near her and give a detailed account of the happenings of the day in his business establishment. It was a long  list containing not only the income and expenditure statement of the day but the names of the regular customers visited, their family problems and all such petty details. There was no need for that but that was  my father’s way of telling his mother that she was needed and her suggestions and advice were respected. I recall this, when my eldest son Ananth, comes to my study and spend some time, every night, , before he goes to sleep, discussing about the happenings of the day in his office and outside..
    Patti knew when her end was nearing. ‘Don’t go to angadi, for shopping today. Keep enough coins and one or two new white clothes ready. Send a word to Soori Vaadyar to be available on short notice” – These were some of the last minute instructions, very practical indeed, left to her only son. As a fully ripe leaf falling from the tree branch, she passed away on her son’s lap, absorbing the few drops of the water from the Ganges stored in a copper vessel and poured reverently, carefully by her son, reciting the sacred mantras..
    The house, hotel, nearby shops, the Mariamman temple, all were sunk in gloom. The Railway staff, timber merchants, the nearby shop owners and their workers, the imam from the nearby mosque, the vegetable venders, the potter, wood cutter, pappadam-maker, all were there in our house to mourn her death. Only one man, bulky with a huge belly seen 24×7 in the house was missing in the crowd. He was a relative who had no family of his own and therefore living in our house, enjoying the free food and other courtesies due to an elder relative.  He had gone to enjoy a feast in the Kalpathy village , on the other bank of the river, despite patty’s advice to stay back.
    ” Everyday you enjoy feast-like meal in the hotel” Patti pleaded, ”be here so that if things go wrong with me, you will be of some help to Ananthan( my dad) “
    ”Nothing will happen to you Manni” he assured her, “I will be back in a couple of hours.”
    Appa sent servants to look for the relative, soon after the death occurred . He had already left Kalpathy for another village to enjoy feast the next day.
    He returned the next evening.  By that time, even the ashes of the caring woman, who used to keep a watch on my mother, from her bed, to ensure that he was served quality food, had been collected. He could see only the ash-pot hanging from a tree at our back yard.
    He rolled on the barren ground and cried like a child. But it was too late.
  • Mothers'day musing- part 1

    No need to allot an exclusive day to remember my mother. My life is her ‘bikshai’, gift, and if I forget her I am not worth to be called a human.
     
    There are two other women, whom I revere on par with my mother thought I didn’t grow in their womb or did I extract milk from their bodies, for survival. One was my Periammai, mother’s eldest sister, who stayed with us just to help my mother  in raising us , almost forgetting her own family.  Two instances surge from the distant past when I think of that great woman. One was her only visit to Hyderabad when I was in ‘Panchavadi’, our bachelor quarters , when she looked after my co-habitats too as her own children. They and and our  neighbors loved her so much that there was a big gathering at the Secunderabad Railway station when she returned to her son’s place.  Every eye was moist with the pang of separation of a short black woman, her body and chest covered with a single saffron cloth, but heart jam-packed with love and consideration for everyone, whom they had known  only for the past two months and there was no chance of meeting her again. She did not speak their language. But still she left an indelible impression in their mind. The second memory is about her coming to the Madras Railway station carrying a big mud  pot full of boiled and cooled  ‘chukku vellam’ for my onward journey with family in the peak summer to Hyderabad, as we could not break our journey at Madras.
     
    The next woman, whom me and my siblings and our children consider as our own mother is a Malayalee woman, of unknown family, of unknown caste  but who was with our family for more than five decades.  Paaru Amma was picked by up my father from the  Valyar forests, where she was collecting firewood. Appa, initially employed her  to look after our cattle shed, and her unalloyed service, integrity and affection lifted her as a kitchen assistant and aaya for the children. Always seen with a snow-white single cloth wrapped below her waist and equally bright but shorter cloth above that , she was always pleasing.Speaking only Malyalam., she could take the children to school, do shopping and interact with my friends and servants who knew only English or Telugu.  I took her for my wedding to TVM and  then from their to Hyderabad, where she  was an anchor for my family and those of my siblings  She was the
     de facto mother in law for my wife, as my mother stayed mostly in Kerala. No wonder on my shashitiabdhapoorthy, sixtieth birthday , my wife took the lead in touching her feet along with me to take her blessings, as my  mother could not be present.
     
    Paru Amma  could not attend the wedding of my sons that took place last year. But I took my last son and his wife to her house in Pallavur. She was sick. TThe ever bright dark hairs on her head had turned grey. Her sharp eyes had lost their sheen . Face  had shrunk and lips had become dry. But her memory was good. ‘Appu anna’ she said looking at me, trying to smile . ‘Srikanth’, she said looking at my son who introduced his wife. Paru Amma was happy. She could meet the latest bride to our family. She enquired about the welfare of every one in the family. She hugged us all lifting her skinny hand, perhaps her last hug for us.  I looked at those hands and remembered her chasing our children, with a food-plate in her hand, coxing and cajoling them to eat.
     
    If  my stories outlive me, Paru Amma  too will,  as the leading character of my’ Appachi  story.
  • He should have opted for ocher robe long ago.

    ” Ammalu, I am not joking. I am fed up with my family life. I am leaving for sanyasam, today, now , just now”
    ”The ocher clothe sets are on the right drawer of my wardrobe”
    ” You have kept the robes ready? You are harsh and hasty to pack me off. When did you buy those, without my knowledge?”
    ”I didn’t buy; my mother gave me as a wedding gift”
    ‘What ? ocher robes as wedding guests ? What type of woman is she?”
    ”Practical. ‘Be prepared to fulfill every wish of your husband and every husband will desire to go for sanysam any day in their married life’ was her parting instruction.
    “Like mom like daughter. But why two sets?”
    ”The second one is for me”
    ” Did your mom think that I am a fool to take you along with me for sanyasam?”
    “No, when I go for sanyasam, you will follow me .’ Follow, he will’ said she.”
    ”I follow you here at home , I follow you there in the forest. Am I never a leader?”
    ‘You are;. ‘Good leaders always follow their wives’ said she.
    “Come on, start now, just now.”
    “Where, to forest?
    “To your house. To hand over the ocher robes to your dad. He should have gone for the ocher robe long ago”
  • Selective hearing


    ” Your hearing capacity is dwindling day by day and I’m tired of shouting.  Seek an appointment with our audiologist today and buy a pair of hearing aid.”
    ” Ammalu, Your mother has a long tongue and a short  farsight”
    ” That is how I landed here. Are you not going for the pensioners meet today?”
    ”You attend the wedding and pass on a small gift and plenty of my blessings to the couple. Pick up a five Rupee note from the god’s hundi, put in an colorful envelope and hand over without writing our name. I don’t want you to cheat the god by stealing his money. Drop a coin, not in circulation, before collecting the cash belonging to him.”
    ” I know from where to pick up the cash without any replacement. You have a dozen new clothes in the wardrobe. Discard this shirt which is almost of your age and dress up decently, at least when you go out”
    ”The King Dasarath had four sons and not three. You don’t have this basic information and want to talk on Ramayanam in your club meet !
    ”That Rakshasi, your ex-steno Asundari called twice last evening”
    ”Did she? Why didn’t you tell me yesterday itself. You are too possessive of me”
    ”I am more possessive of my money. No need to spend a fortune on hearing aids. Your ears are sharper than mine.”

  • Extra credits

    Extra credits:
    ” The extra credit in my services to you today, will be carried forward tomorrow and I will  be as a free as bird tomorrow, Ammalu”
    ”Can you elaborate, please?”
    ” I collected the milk sachets from the bag hanging in the front door and kept in the fridge- that was my regular service”
    “Agreed; extra service?”
    “Removed two packets and emptied the contents in a vessel-that was my extra service”
    ”There are two more services to your credit- one, you  shut the fridge -door”
    “True, how I forgot it to include in the list? OK, the next one?”
    “Shuttling between the kitchen and bedroom to pacify the wailing kid, shuttling between the kitchen and washing area to instruct the servant maid, I found time to make hot coffee for you . You lifted the tumbler with great difficulty above your mouth, drank the coffee and handed over the empty tumbler to me for washing-that is the third serve you did for me this morning which also should be carried forwa

  • 'It is my Fate'. No it was your error.‏

    ‘It is my a Fate’
    No, it was your mistake.
    ‘It is my Fate’ – Job is over. Any time we lose, just throw the ball in the court of ‘Fate’, ‘God’, ‘planet’ and such innumerable escape – routes and relax.
    This is what most of us do. A sure remedy for the cuts, cracks and damages caused to our mind, by the loss.
    But do we realize that by pushing the charred cloth beneath the cot, we are igniting a big fire, which might swallow us? How, you may ask.
    No smoke without fire somewhere. If I have failed to clear the hurdle of a test, lost the possibility of better status and money by missing an advancement in my career or even if an accident or death occurred in the family, there should be one or more causes for that . By throwing the blame on Fate, Luck or other such unknown, unsure forces, I miss the opportunity of critically analyzing the cause or causes for my loss and prevent recurring damages.
    I have observed that at least in 90 to 95 cases out a hundred, I was responsible, knowingly or unknowingly and only 5 to 10 % losses could be attributed to factors beyond my control. Reasons may be many, mainly ignorance, delayed action, shortage of men, money or other resources and so on. If I have the courage to own responsibility for the loss, study and analyze the causes, there is every possibility of my improving my action, next time. On the other hand, when I resign to Fate or God, the door for critical study and analysis are closed for ever. After the above exercise, if I am convinced that in no way I could have performed better and it was something beyond my control that ruined my chances and at that time and then alone, if I lift my hands up, head up, eyes up and say, ‘your will’. there is meaning in it. Otherwise there is every possibility of my losing faith in God, if the mistakes go rectified resulting repeated damage for which I throw the responsibility on God only to find that He is helpless.
    Rational thinking goes a long way to avert disasters. And if the disasters still occur, ‘Pahavanae saranam’ in the words of my Venku chithammai paatty..
    Thunjathu Acharayan, said the same in two lines:
    ‘Sakala karmarpanam Bavathu karomi jnAn
    SamasthamaparAdam kshmaswa Jagalpathey!’
    Or Coleridge:
    ‘Do thy duty that is best,
    Leave unto the God the rest’
    ‘Do thy duty’ first, always.

  • Vaadyar out-stands in every wedding photo

    ‘ All are ready and in place for the wedding. But where are the bride and bride groom?”
    ”They are yet to come from the beauty parlor”
    ” But, the auspicious time can’t wait? Any other couple ready?”
    ”Yes, Sir. we are.”
    “Excellent. Where are your parents?”
    ”They are not here but that hardly matters.”
    ” The boy and girl have met before?”
    ”Yes Sir. Many times”
    ”That makes our task easy. Call vaadhyar”
    ”He is not here sir.”
    ”Where is he?”
    ”In the beauty parlor. Sir”