Dining hall dreams

"Today being last working day of the term we will have vada for breakfast and gulab Jamun during lunch".

An excited buzz passed through the crowd. The people on the periphery listened to and watched the crowd with smiles across their lips. The announced had to shout a few demands for silence before the crowd quietened down. Their voices went silent but their minds chatted quietly through eyes and smiles. It was not the vada that generated the excitement. Obviously! 

As they walked into the dining hall they were to shocked to find that the breakfast consisted only of vadas, They loved vadas but only when it was placed besides idly or pongal. Vada by itself did not seem like a breakfast. They stared at the plates consisting of three vadas being threatened by a growing pool of chutney. One of them said wryly "Whadda breakfast!" A little later, another voice raised a query tentatively "If breakfast consist only of vada, will the lunch only consist of gulab jamuns". The surrounding faces lighted up for a moment.

Am I old? Yes you are

A link to a news in Tamil appeared on the college mates Whatsapp group. The headlines said "Old woman dies in elephant attack". The Tamil word used for the old woman was moothatti. Underneath the news link, the sender had written "did you notice the moothatti's age? It is about time for you fellows to act your age". I opened the link and found that the moothatti was an year older than me. Though I proclaim valiantly to many that I am old, the reference to people of this age group as moothatti seems ridiculous. We have not touched half century yet. 

Change in identtity

He realized that he and I shared a common mother tongue. Every time, he saw me he called out to me regardless of the distance that separated us with his loud voice asking for my health in our mother tongue. I, in an attempt to hide my embarrassment, responded back to him in a equally loud voice. The people around looked from side to side at the two of us in amusement. This continued for an year. During the course of the year, a few of his friends, who did not share our mother tongue, also started asking for my health in my mother tongue. As embarrassing as the situation was, it was also sweet and I quite liked the attention. So I let it be.

I did not see him during the two months of vacation. I greeted him from some distance on the day he returned from vacation but he did not respond. He looked through me and walked away. This happened two more times. I did not bother to find the reason for this change in attitude. One day, I found him sitting with his friend. The friend asked something and I responded. He looked up at me shocked and said "oh! It's you. I thought you had left during the vacation. You have shaved your beard and I am unable to identify you".

He does not greet me anymore. The loss of my beard seems to have changed something within him. To his young eyes, I am no longer the person I was.

It is better for me to be me!

I wish I cared about things. I do care but unfortunately not consistently and definitely not long enough. By things, I don't mean people, I mean things. Damn! This morning my ability to say anything with clarity seems to be marred by the usage of the word things. Let me try once again - By things, I mean issues. By issues, I mean

"Save the World"

"Vote for the Walruses"

"Stop obliteration of our Ozone"

"Don't mar Mars with human exploitation"

"Treat Trees tremendously"

"Antarctica is for Penguins"

"My language is the mega language among all languages"

"Don't impose your language on my beautiful language"

"For creatures walking on four legs"

"To eat a fin is a sin"

"Let us not choke the world in smoke"

"Cows can camp in the centre of any road"
"Let's wow the whales"

So many movements! Millions passionate souls display their uncontrollable passion in these movements. Yet none of them interest me. I look at them with disinterested half closed eyes, make a sound that sounds like "Gnaaah" and move on. I am very disturbed that I am not interested in any of these. What disappoints me is that I am not even interested in declaring myself to be a staunch supporter of any of these issue even if I don't care about it.

For example, why can't I declare that I am a staunch supporter of secularism. I could throw some acidic statements at people who claim that something written in 20000 BC in India talked about Black holes and the General Theory of Relativity. That would be fun. But I am not even intelligent enough to hate our current Prime minister and his party. While I am surrounded by people who have no hesitation in shouting out from either sides of a microphone about the unfairness meted out by Indians (which probably includes them) on Kashmir and its people, I listen to them with disinterest. Sadly, I don't fit into the other end of the spectrum either. I am not a staunch right wing religious fanatic either. Actually, I am not even religious. I almost follow nothing that any religion recommends. I have no qualms about doing things that the religions prohibit. I make promises to God but do not keep them and when it seems that the respective God is punishing me for not having kept my promise, I look towards the sky and throw abuses at him/her. That said, I am not an atheist or satanist either. I don't go around the world announcing "God is phony". I actually love visiting temples - not all them but certain temples. So I don't fit there either.

Thus I feel I am a misfit in this society. Anytime I find myself stuck in the company of people who are passionate about some cause or the other I look at them in wonder and say "Why can't I be like him or her!" But as the discussion proceeds I invariably end up feeling "Why can't they be like me!"

Many years ago, I was having a dining table discussion with a person whom I considered a friend for three months. He thought he was expounding the value of vegetarianism. In reality he was busy abusing non-vegetarianism by talking for many minutes about the cruelty of being a non-vegetarian. I had no intention of becoming a vegetarian for I loved meat. I also loathed the saintliness projected by some of the vegetarians. This temporary friend was one of finest specimen belonging to this category. I humoured him for sometime by letting him recount the goodness of being a vegetarian before letting him know "I do not kill animals and I only eat animals that are dead. I give meaning for their death for they would continue to live through me". As stupid as that argument sounds, it was sufficient to quieten his vegetarian frenzy.

With the advent of vegans, vegetarians got a taste of how non-vegetarians felt when they preached about the cruelty of being a non-vegetarian. The vegans made the world believe that milking the cow is as cruel as killing it for through milking you are affecting the cow and its calf too. So consuming curd or paneer is as cruel as consuming meat. Ha ha ha!

Even now I feel amused when I remember that fellow who tried to convert me to a vegan! Ironically, he did not last being a vegan himself for much longer for within a few months he degraded his status by mixing ladles of curd with rice.

All this took place prior to 2014 when the party ruling the country decided to save the cows for they considered the cows to be more sacred than Gods themselves. At many places consuming meat in public was considered suicidal. It went to the extent that one had to be careful not to lick one's lips while uttering the word cow. Thus the life of the beef-lover became miserable. I was thrilled for I only had to consume beef to feel like a revolutionary. For the first time in my life I had an opportunity to be an anti-establishment person. All I had to do was walk into a thattukada and order "porottayum beef fryum" and imagine being surrounded by millions waving red flags while bellowing "inquilab zindabad". Che Guevara and Karl Marx showered flowers on me from their respective heavens.

The world is a funny place. In a matter of decades, vegetarianism and veganism has moved from being benevolent to being oppressive. Many are now trying to convince the world that beef eating represents the culture of real India for the tribes have always consumed beef. We are told that they have been oppressed by the powerful vegetarians. You cannot wave the flag of vegetarianism proudly and you better not preach its benefits to all and sundry for you will then be considered an oppressor. As Bob Dylan has prophesied in 1964.

For the loser now

Will be later to win

For the times they are a-changin'

Such is the whimsical nature of the world as far as passions and their related movements are concerned. So how can I even act passionate about an issue I don't really care when I would be considered an idiot for having supported a trivial or harmful issue within a few years? Should I not be thankful for being a cynic and look at the noise makers with benign tolerance as they scream throats out believing they are saving the world?

Pat,pat,pat....
Tchh, tchhh, tchhh,...

Little talks

As the teacher walked in, the little girl in pink ran to him and said loudly "She fell because of him" pointing at her friend . "What did he do?" asked the teacher. "He blew the whistle so loud that she fell." came the reply. The teacher was perplexed and asked "Which whistle?". The girl pointed to the whistle attached to her pink umbrella and said "He wanted to see it. So I gave it to him. He took  it and blew the whistle very loud and she fell." Oh!" said the teacher "your umbrella come with a whistle. How interesting!" The girl proudly held up her umbrella and said "Yes! My father bought it. I love it." "It is a pretty umbrella" said the teacher. The girl who had fallen spoke "I have an umbrella from Canada". "Oh! From Canada is it?" asked the teacher. "Yes! My father bought it from Canada. It is a red and white umbrella." The teacher tilted his head, thought for a moment and asked "Is it red and white or white and red?" The girl responded confidently "it is red and white umbrella. It has red leaves on white." "You mean red leaves on white mean it is a red and white umbrella is it?" asked the teacher. The girl in pink interjected "Yes! Red leaves on white means it is red and white".

The girl who had fallen changed the topic by asking "Do you know I have a little brother?" The teacher responded "Yes, I do. You told me last week." She continued "he's so small. He's tiny."  "This tiny?" asked the teacher. The child did not agree for the teacher's tiny was too tiny. "This tiny. He is four months old. In two months he will be six months old" she said. The girl in pink butted in with "I have a six month old baby brother. He was sleeping on the cot the other the other day. He kept rolling around the bed and fell out of the cot. So my mother placed a smaller cot besides the cot on which he was sleeping but he fell from the cot on to the smaller cot and cried." The other girl cut in and said "my baby brother does not let me sleep. He jumps on me and tries to open my eyes. I slept late that night and was sleepy the next morning at school". The girl in pink walked away. The other girl continued "You know my baby brother has been named". The teacher asked with interest "What's his name?" The girl responded "I don't know". She noticed the disappointment on the teacher's face and tried to assuage him by saying "You can ask his name to my mother when he is ten months old. But you will have to come home to ask her." The teacher nodded in agreement.

******************

The teacher was talking in Hindi with the art teacher when the girl in pink walked by. On hearing him talk in Hindi she turned around and asked "Aap hindi mein baath karte ho?" He responded "han baath kartha hoon!" She said "Mein bee ghar mein hindi mein baath karthe hoon" and walked away.

******************

The children came running to him. One of the girls held something in her hand. As they came closer he realized it was some kind of snack. The girl handed him a cracker with vegetables and cheese stacked on top and said "We made it! We made it! Have this canopy and tell us if you like it." He looked at it joyfully and said "It looks inviting. I will eat it in one month". The children squealed in anticipation. He opened his mouth wide and pushed the loaded cracker into his month and started chomping it. The children clapped their hands and squealed in happiness.  

This isn't ridiculous!

As is usually the case, I slid to the status screen of WhatsApp. I saw two messages from a stranger who had crossed my path at a miserable phase of my life. It seemed I did not wish to remember them and so I have forgotten about them. But the contacts application in my mobile phone has a mind of its own and so continues to remember them. Status message containing sayings and quotes are usually puke worthy but I like to test the strength of my mind and stomach by reading each of them. I am glad to observe that even the worst of these messages have not affected my insides. So I continue to read them and end up with the feeling of a finger poking down my throat. 

These messages were different. They were like a pendulum that swayed from puke worthy to ridiculous through profoundness. I have not been able to decipher the category to which they belong but record it here to ensure they are not lost in the eternity of time.

A racoon crooning in at a coroner's office sounds cryptic for a circumspect mind - Dr. Tacor Oner

If ducks could run, they would have run and that would have been unfortunate for the ducks. You know what I mean - Anonymous

I love watching T R Ramachandran movies. In one of the movies, he finds a baby in the back seat of his car and says "Adada baby!" in the most endearing manner. His ability to appear foolish on screen has not been surpassed by any. Recently, I saw his 1941 movie "Sabapathy". He was brilliantly funny in the movie. His essay about a train journey, written in Tamil, left me in splits. Ironically, the funniest episode of the movie was the result of a literal translation in the subtitle. This occurred when one of the characters mentions

"siru villayattu Pillainu ninaikatheppa"

Promptly the following subtitle appeared underneath.

"don't think I am a small playboy"

Wierd beard

She looked high and low 

But did not find him

So she decided

To look low and high

And yet she could not find him

So she left it all

She gave it all up

For she decided

To go up the mountains

In search of a long and dark cave

She found such a cave

With an underground stream

Which helped her decide

To spend her life in penance

As she went in search of herself

At the moment, he appeared

With a beard long enough

To touch her heart

But she was long gone

From the spot where he appeared

And so they remain still

Separated by miles 

Though their thoughts match

They are not destined to meet

As she no longer searches for him