Self-censor

I try and avoid vulgarity or use swear words in these write-ups. I am not sure how I came up with this pre-condition but I have held this to a great extent I can. However, a few time frustration got the better of me and I have used words and written thoughts I should not have had. The one given below is an example, of such a thought. I have removed it from the original article and have saved it for posterity here. 

"the meaning of everyone's life always begins inside two undergarments. In some cases, I wish some had continued to stay in one of those warm and moist places. It wouldn't have been very different from the tropical conditions they live in now"

Mind you, I am not a goody two shoes and all. Put me inside a car in city traffic and you will be amazed at the colourfulness of my language, in multiple languages too. Only yesterday, I enjoyed watching the movie '8 mile'. If someone decided to make a clean version of the movie, they would have ended up with a silent movie.

Let me end, by expressing my appreciation for the best bad movie I have seen till date (and I have seen quite a few, and in my opinion Govinda's 'Hero no: 1' is not a bad movie). The hero of the movie Bolo Yeung is also the director of the movie. Though I did not realize it when I watched the movie, he is the actor who fights against Van Damme in the climax of 'Bloodsport'. Bolo is ridiculous beyond words. The second half of the movie has large gaps in it. I could not stop watching the movie and only took a pause when some of my family members came back home. There is a small sequence during the climax fight, which is amazing.  Must watch, if you have the spherical objects used during playing games!

Me head's gone to dogs

I observed the passing of time by watching the second hand of my watch move second by second to a minute and then starting all over again. In the background words were being spoken. A few enter my brain through my ears while most reflect away and float around aimlessly. I preferred observing the passing of time than understanding the words uttered by the learned ones, who are learned enough to utter words on immense intelligence. I have come to a phase of my life where intelligence is of little use for me. I prefer the pointlessness of a string of words over profoundness. For example, Facebook threw the following at me yesterday.

How does spider man think of such witty comebacks?

Because with great power comes great response ability

Or for that matter, the following.

Me: Someone we know is possessed by an owl

Friend: Who?

Me: [narrows eyes]

And sometimes something like this.

Today a clown opened a door for me. I thought "Nice jester."

And during desperate times, the following.

What is Neil Armstrong's name in Tamil?

Nila Armstong, obviously.

As silly as the above statements sound, they have an inherent intelligence embedded within. Also, they are not profound enough to make one feel queasy. But for some reason, I find myself surrounded by people spouting statements filled to the brim with profoundness. For years there have been people around me uttering profoundness and I have desperately tried to understand them. But no! In some ways, they are important for evolution and they are in our midst showing kindness to the illiterate by revealing the meaning of life and all other nonsense embedded in it.

At times, I have tried to raise my own thoughts to the profound levels. Regardless of the words I used I found that thoughts remained mundane and ordinary. For a few years, I cheated myself into believing that my thoughts suffered due to my limited vocabulary. A few months back I realized that the problem was not with my vocabulary. My mind refused to move out of the mundane and the lower than mundane levels. Once I saw a dog excreting by the side of a road and I remembered reading an article a few years back, in the BBC, that dogs positioned themselves in the north-south direction when they attempted to defecate. But this dog was not positioned in the north-south direction. I started observing other dogs as they when through the defecation process. None of them were positioned in the north-south direction. As a result, an important question rose in my mind "Who is at fault? Did the publisher of the article pick too small a sample size? Or have the dogs in our country not been taught about defecating by positioning themselves in the north-south direction. As I think about it, I think the latter could be the reason. The dogs in our country too are stuck in the issue of illiteracy. Poor dogs".

You see the problem! My thoughts are stuck at the rear end of a dog. If you notice, the problem is not with vocabulary. I used the word 'defecate' instead of putting it plainly as 'shit'. So the problem is not with the vocabulary. It's the thought! How do I raise myself to profoundness? I am as close to profoundness as humans are to finding extra-terrestrial beings. The only silver lining in this cloud is that people have started mistaking my attempts at profoundness as humour. Every time I utter something profound they find me humorous or sarcastic and laugh their hearts out. They praise my "humour sense" and at times pat my back too. It's a good way to hide my humiliation but I try to hide my pride.

... skip - skip - skip - skip. One hour and 12 minutes since we started. Another God knows how many minutes for this session to end.

A charmer, on whose forehead I see the words profound written in 73 languages has started reading. I can't read all the 73 languages but the few language I can read have made me understand it is all profound and so the remaining 69 language should be referring to profound too. I sigh and look at him with envy. They are six or seven characters around who know everything about everything on this planet. They probably know what my thought was when I was twelve years, three months, two days, seven hour, fourteen minutes and sixteen seconds old. Not that they would be interested to know! The trick is not to let them look straight into your eyes. I usually look at the leaf of a tree that sways behind their head when I talk to them or they talk to me.

... skip - skip - skip - skip...

The issue was deeper than I thought. I was not just disinterested in the conversation but have started imagining that they were conversing on a topic interests me. They seemed to be talking about dogs! Not defecating dogs; even my imagination refuses to bring down their esteem to such depths.

DISCLAIMER: If the reader, if any, believes that I am a dog lover from my constant reference to dogs, I want to make it clear that I am not a dog lover. I don't hate dogs but I am not the type who hugs dogs and bring them home as pets. I remember having a dog at home when I was seven. I did not bring the dog home, my uncle did. I don't think any of the people at home, including the uncle who brought the dog home, were dog lovers either for they named the dog loda loda. It comes from the phrase "yenda loda lodannu satham podre?" ("Why are making the loda loda sound?"). But our roads are filled with dogs and one cannot help notice them and think about them.

To my ears. it seemed that the profound ones were discussing the cause for dogs chasing vehicles. Ehhh! May be not for my ears for ears don't think or understand or reach a conclusion. So it was probably my mind and not my ears. I think the conversation went thus.
"Why do dogs bark at vehicles and chase them?"
"By vehicles do you mean cars or buses or lorries?"
"Mostly cars, but at times vans and a few times buses too."
"OK! It's good to be specific."
"That's true! One has to be specific and not vague."
"Agreed! So do you mean cars or buses or vans or lorries."
"Let us consider cars first."
"Two wheelers too."
"Yes, yes! Two wheelers too. But let us limit our discussion to cars."
"It's dangerous for the rider of a two wheeler than the driver of a car."
"True, true! But let us limit our discussion to cars."
"Eh! What are we discussing?"
"We are trying to discern the reason for dogs barking and chasing cars."
"Which cars?"
"What do you mean 'which cars'?
"Do you mean small cars or mid-sized cars or luxury cars?"
"How is that important? I was only thinking cars."
"No. We cannot generalize. It is better to first look at the specifics before we move to generalization."
"I agree! The specifics might throw up details that we might miss otherwise."
"I have noticed that the dogs tend to focus on the car and not the driver. It does not understand that the driver is controlling the car."
"Hold on! Let us not jump the gun. Let us first decide the area of focus."
"True! We might end up missing the details."
"It is also true that the dogs are not very consistent. Some days they do not bark at a car but on other days they do."
"You mean they do not bark at the same car they had barked earlier."
"Yes! That queer."
"Wait, wait, wait, ..."
"Maybe dogs are moody."
"But hold on ..."
"Cats are moody and not dogs."
"Cats! Cats don't bark!"
"Of course not! Cat meow!"
"Is meow an accepted word in English?"
"Yes it is. Like caw-caw!"
"Caw-caw is not English."
"Wait a minute! Hold on! We are discussing about dogs chasing cars."
"Did we decide on which car? You see we might miss important insights if we do not discuss the specificity of the issue. We should not try to generalize too quickly."

The discussion had turned a corner and come back to where it started. I was hearing Elton John's "Circle of Life" and started to hum the tune. My neighbour stared at me. I asked her the reason for the stare by pulling up one of my eyebrows. She whispered "Your humming is too loud". I was shocked and asked "What! Are you following the discussion?" "Of course I am and you are distracting me. This is an important issue. So you should listen to." I did not consider dogs chasing cars to be an important discussion point but I could not tell her so for I was not sure if they were discussing about dogs and cars. Actually, I had no idea about the topic under discussion. I was stuck in a parallel universe that was truly ridiculous unlike this seriously ridiculous universe. I covered up with a "Hmmm! Aaaaah!" and looked at my watch. It screamed at me "Its five minutes since tea time." I shook my head at the watch. Obviously, it came from the other universe and had no idea about the profound thoughts being discussed. I whispered quite firmly to my watch "You better watch your attitude, watch. Tea is nothing but a hot drink but this conversation is important. They are not talking about dogs chasing cars. The implications of this discussion are important and it is imperative you do not disturb me. It is time you placed your impatience under watch, watch."

Tea time went by and lunch time was not in the distant future and yet the discussion has not come to an end. As a matter of fact the points under consideration were so profound that they have not even started discussing them. I look around the room and see 7.35 people sitting with their hands up in the air in an attempt to put forward their profound thoughts. I looked at the seriousness on their faces and felt the heat of their eagerness. I realized the topic under discussion was important and attempted to listen.
"What if the dog goes too close to the car?"
"Which car are you talking about? Small, midsize, large or luxury?"

I gave up! My mind, that is if I possess one, had gone to dogs and can never achieve anything profound. I looked at my watch and started discussing about the best tea shops in the country with it .

Nothing to do with flowers

On the side-lines of a journey, many forgettable events occur. A man of knowledge said many decades ago that nothing should be forgotten. For this reason I would like to record these peripheral events. These are not a factual descriptions but descriptions with a few embedded facts.

The way to our place of stay is simple. Take a left from the main road, go straight till the road forks. You will find a newly laid road on the right. Ignore that road and take the bad road on the left. Soon the road forks again. You will find a newly laid road on the right. Once again ignore that road and take the bad road on the left. A little later you will reach another fork. The road on the left will be a really bad road. Take it and you will reach your destination in ten minutes. 

Boundaries don't exist in a dormitory. One cannot even claim ownership of the bed one sleeps on. But some of the residents of our dormitory did not believe or even know this. One could hear them shouting across the hall. "Why are sitting on my pillow man?" or "Hey! You are sitting on my bed in your undergarments. How disgusting!"

Dormitories have common bathrooms which are usually a few minutes away from it. If a person realizes he/she has forgotten his/her towel once he/she has entered the bathroom then all he/she can do is to call out "Hey! Get me my towel. It’s the orange one". This call for help results in a few enthusiastic souls running around searching for the orange towel. Soon one of them announced "I found it". As he took the towel off the rope another person ran up to him crying "that's my towel". But the enthusiastic searcher did not accept this objection. The owner of the towel tried snatching the towel and a tug of war ensued. A friend of the towel's claimant came to his help by saying "it is his". The searcher loosened his hold of the towel and shouted to the person in the bathroom "but there are no other orange towels here". He got a response immediately "sorry, sorry, sorry! I brought a pink towel". The orange towel's owner shouted in confusion "What! Have you been using my towel?" He was relieved by the response "No da! I got confused." The searcher were offended and said "What da! You don't even know the colour of your towel."

Spiderman is the second most popular super hero among the new generation. But the reason for the Spiderman being a Spiderman is not popular among many of this generations. The web of the spider is valued more than the spider itself. As long as the spider is less than 3 millimetres long, no one cares about it. But just the sight of the bigger spiders invoke terror in many. Frankly, I too find a big spider terrifying. Someone screamed "spiiiddddeeeerrrrr" from one of the bathrooms. The occupants of the other bathrooms screamed back "where?". The first screamer responded "in my bathroom! On the wall!" The others lost their interest and responded with a disinterested "oh!" The first screamer continued "it's huge". After a few minutes, the first screamer's neighbour asked "has it gone?".

"No! It’s not moved an inch."

"But has it moved a centimetre?"

"Of course not! It has remained stationary."

Songs were an integral part of this trip. Usually we started the day with a set of songs sung by the group. Over the past couple of years, I have come to appreciate the calm that singing brings onto oneself and have enjoyed such singing sessions. In the dormitory, the day started with one of its occupants singing "vinayagane vinai theerpavane". The singer cannot be compared to Sirkazhi but had a good voice but it was definitely not the first note that the other occupants of the room wanted to hear in the morning. They cried out "Stop!" and "Please don't do this" but morning after morning this song reverberated through the insides of the room. Another occupant loved singing the song "naane varuven" from the Tamil movie "Yaar Nee" in the afternoon. The singing of this song did not send a shivers down anyone's spine voice. On the contrary everyone in the room laughed for the singer's  voice sounded cute. Instead of the ghost in the movie (played by our very own Amma when she was a few decades away from becoming Amma), the singing reminded us of Casper, the friendly ghost. As I think about it, it is a good song to be played as one lay down for a quick afternoon sleep.

I watched the driver turning the steering wheel ferociously as the van sped through the narrow roads. Actually, the van was not speeding but the road was only one van broad and at places it had potholes. So the 30 kmph seemed like 60. At the turns the driver honked enough to wake a person in Cincinnati. On taking the fifteenth turn, he looked at the person sitting beside me and said "I have to be careful at the turns. These fellows on the two wheelers don't slow down." This opening statement resulted in the following conversation between the driver and my neighbour with my neighbour responding thus to the driver.

"The bushes by the side of the road have grown a lot. They obstruct the view. Now that we have a Panchayat, they should trim the bushes."

"I don't think they will do anything."

"They are taking charge today."

"But our people have chosen a crook as the head."

"I have heard people say that about him".

"He is a contractor who is used to paying commission for everything. He did the same during the elections too."

"Oh! Is it?"

"He paid 500 rupees per vote. The people accepted the money and voted for him. Now he will not do anything for the place and no one can question him."

"Why?"

"He has paid them already and the votes were given in return. They have no right to expect anything more."

"He must have spent plenty of money in the process."

"Of course. He has spent 15 lakhs to win the elections. Now he has to earn the money in the next few years."

"Poor people!"

"Not really! The people had a choice. One of the candidates is a good person.  He is a kind and supportive person and everyone likes him. But he refused to give money during the elections. So no one voted for him. The people deserve it!"

"That's sad!"

The village roads are happening places. Children play on the road or simply run across it. Many food items are dried under the sun. People sit in a line or a circle and talk. I once saw a set of women sitting by the side of narrow road on their bonds or bands (the equipment used to carry mud or rubble on their heads - it's pronunciation is between bond and band in Tamil. I have no idea what it is called in English). The driver of the approaching van could not have missed seeing them but he did not slow down. The women did not seem too concerned either. When the van reached near them, they only moved the top part of the body away from the van. Once the van crossed, they went back to their conversation. The vehicles disturb the animals more than humans. The dogs and hens consider the road as their home and a passing vehicle usually disturbs their peaceful lives. But the dogs and hens react differently to an approaching vehicle. The hen stands clucking and pecking the ground ignoring all occurrences around till the vehicle is a few metres from them. They then turn around, give a wild stare at the vehicle and run off its track wildly. It reminds me of the phrase "Run! The sky is falling on our heads" In reality, the hens scream "Entammo rakshikane!", which inadequately translates to "Oh my god!". On the other hand the dogs are nonchalant about the approaching vehicle. One of the dogs I observed, turned around and looked at the van some 10 metres away. It sat down on the ground and let the van slow down to deal with the road bump. By the time the front wheels crossed the road bump, it had started scratching its back. It was not even looking at the bus when the rear wheels crossed the bump. As the van reached the two metre mark from the dog, it let out a sigh, got up calmly and strolled to the side of the road. The distance between the van and the end of the dog's tail was probably 3 or 4 centimetres as the van went by.

The driver of the van had the habit of talking on the mobile while driving. He seemed to be the busiest person on the planet. It was Sabarimala season and vans were in demand. So he could not spare one moment and hence spent even his driving time talking to customers and van drivers. During the calls, he used his left hand to drive. The situation was dangerous and one of us decided to give him a suggestion to help him. 

"Why don't you get a bluetooth headset?"

"Oh! That is of no use."

"It sure is. You can use both the hands to drive and talk over the bluetooth headset."

"Oh! Bluetooth headset is a fad."

"No it isn't! Many people use it, especially while driving."

"But what will people say!"

"What have people got to do with it! It's your and our lives at stake!"

"I mean, people will say that I am showing off with such fancy items."

"You got to be kidding me. What you are doing is dangerous! You cannot drive with your phone in one hand. This is not acceptable."

The driver remained silent and avoided using the phone during the remaining part of the journey.

As mentioned previously, it was Sabarimala season and all the vans were used by devotees. Once we went to a particular spot in a van. When we came back an hour later, we found that van had transformed itself into another van. We asked the driver “what happened to the other van?” He responded "Oh! That one went to Sabarimala." One of the members of our group said "Oh no! I left my book in the van." The driver responded "You are very fortunate then. The book is on its way to Sabarimala and will return as a holy book." The person who had lost the book did not appreciate the comment.

On the way back from a farm, we crossed a temple. We had alighted nearby three days ago. We were a few hundred metres from our place of stay and had to walk in darkness through narrow lanes. Each house had a dog guarding it and the dogs barked at us vehemently and persistently. In the darkness, we did not notice the Government school opposite to the temple then. As we walked by the school that afternoon children of various ages ran out to look at the differently attired children from the city. They observed the group of students walking by and at times whispered to each other. A little boy standing quietly in the front pointed at one of the girls and shouted "Aiyo! Vellakari" and ran away. The girl looked at him annoyed. She expressed her displeasure to her friend "What is wrong with these kids? Yesterday as we looking at the flowers by the road, two kids jumped out of the bush screaming 'Vellakari' and ran away. They are so annoying."

As I was going towards the bus, a passerby stopped me and said "You look like a college professor. I have a question for you." I said "I am not a college professor." He said "OK! The roots of the plants start rotting once the flowers start blooming. Why does that happen?" I was not sure what to tell and so uttered "Ehhh!" "Tell me! It is a big problem." I responded "I don't know. I have to check." "But you are a college professor. You should know!" "No, I am not a professor. Sorry!" The man looked at me for a moment before walking away shaking his head in disappointment.

The dam was a disappointment. To start with it was not one of those humongous dams with large gates. This one was more like a bridge with gates to control the flow of water. Also the dam had little water flowing underneath. A few men rolled in the film of water. At various points on the bridge graffiti were scrawled on the walls. A few of the graffiti praised RCB and Virat Kohli. In one of them, Kohli was written as கோli. The graffiti SS King was repeated at a number of places. We wondered what SS stood for and I decided that it stood for Stainless Steel. A pair of denim pants lay inside the water. As the water ran through the pants, it bloated and gave the eerie appearance of it containing the bottom part of a human body.

I was told that the paalkhova or paaltheratti at Vinayaka Sweet Shop is heavenly. It is believed that on Tuesday nights Indradevan comes down disguised from Devalokam to taste this sweet. As per the scriptures, this paaltheratti mixed with amrudham is the preferred dessert for the gods in the evening. Though I had not tasted the paaltheratti, I did not doubt the veracity of these claims. On the third day of the trip, I found myself walking into the Vinayaka Sweet Shop. It looked more like a bakery than a sweet shop and I hence was surprised by the reputation it had garnered. I found the god loved sweet sitting in a plastic box on top of the counter. I ordered a kilo of the sweet and looked at the other items in the shop. One of the sweets caught my attention. It was something that I had not seen for many years. Emotions of various sorts started running through different parts of my brains. The emotions resulted in my brain triggering my saliva glands. My appearance must have seemed similar to a dog drooling at a bone for the shop keeper asked if I wanted to have a taste of the sweet. I could not open my mouth and talk. My brain had lost its ability to control my vocal chords. Besides the saliva swishing inside my mouth threatened to spew out the moment I opened my mouth. So I shook my head in acceptance. He picked a few of the small coloured balls and placed them on my extended palm. I took one of the balls and admired it for a moment before placing it in my mouth. It tasted sweet and also had the fragrance of sweet. I am not sure but I probably uttered an ecstatic "mmmmmmmm". The sweet brought back a few sweet memories of my younger days. I think my grandparents used to buy this sweet from a restaurant near Children's theatre near Mount Road and I think the restaurant was called Hotel Annapurna. I took my time to savour each of the sugar coated sweet ball. When I realized that my palm was empty I looked up at the shopkeeper with sadness in my eyes. The shopkeeper being a kind man, placed some more sweet balls on my palm. I thanked him with a smile and continued my sugary  journey into my past.

I have come to the conclusion non-vegetarian unlike vegetarians have gradations. I believe there is scope some research in this area and to set the ball rolling, I will try and categorize non-vegetarians.

WARNING: GORY DESCRIPTIONS AHEAD - If you are person who feels queasy when someone utters “non-vegetarian”, you are advised to skip the remaining part of this section. 

1. Forever: The non-vegetarians in this category require a dead creature on their plate for every meal.

2. Periodic: These folks love the phrase "once in a ..." and would love to eat creatures once in a week or once in three days or once a fortnight or... Well! You get the idea.

3. Variety: The people in this category also belong to one of the above two categories. As the name suggests, the Variety-non-vegetarians love variety. So they are constantly on the lookout for places that serve cat or crow biryani or snake machurian or crab masala or shark puttu or deep fried reindeer. This group could also be referred to as "Wide".

4. Bird lovers: I would have preferred to refer to this group as "Chickens" but the that term would seem derogatory to some. These people love to eat chicken and its egg. They would belong to either category 1 or 2 above. Some of members of this group shudder on hearing the words "red meat".

5. Outliers: This group consists of vegetarians or more probably eggetarians who usually pose as non-vegetarians.  To clarify, eggetarians are not non-vegetarians. They are vegetarians who eat egg. The persons in this category usually lie at the periphery of the non-vegetarian world and usually consume a small piece of chicken when they go out with their non-vegetarian friends.

The persons in the Forever category struggle to survive during a strictly vegetarian trip. Their mental condition degrades in the following manner as the trip proceeds.

1. Day 1: Everything's fine. The brinjal sambhar tastes good and the bitter gourd poriyal is not bitter at all. They usually end the day, feeling good about themselves.

2. Day 2: Everything's fine till dinner. At dinner time, they try to convince others that egg is an integral part of vegetarian cuisine.

3. Day 3: Tears start appearing in the seam. They start the day demanding egg omelette for their idlis. They clamour for egg based dishes through the day. 

4. Day 4: Bursting at the seams. At breakfast they discuss loudly with their fellow table mates about the cruelty of not serving eggs for breakfast and how in reality chicken based dishes are actually  vegetarian dishes. The discussions take place at every meal and in between too.

5. Day 5: Resignation to cruelty of destiny. They continue the behaviour of day 4 but their craving for flesh has crossed all limits of good behaviour for they start licking their lips and look longingly at every passing chicken/goat/buffalo (not cow).

6. Day 6, 7, 8, ...: Usually the same behaviour as in day 5 with occasional spells of sighing and crying. I don't have data on how long this behaviour can continue without further degradation of senses.

This trip too had a few persons belonging to the first category and they displayed all the behaviours explained above. Their rantings tended to be harsher than usual due to the presence of many Chettinad restaurants in the vicinity making barottas besides the road. Once one of the young but promising members of this category shouted in a voice dripping with frustration "thirumbi poyi, mavane, pathu aade vetta poren!"  

All the happenings of a journey cannot be captured in writing. I mean it can be but I don't think it is necessary to capture and in some cases it is best not to write them all down. But some of the incidents written above are enough to remind me of those unwritten events. So I think this is a good place to stop.

When a snake converses with an eagle...

As I walked back from the dining hall, the song "Paramasivan Kazhuthil irunthu" played in my head. I am not a fan of old Tamil songs. I attribute this dislike to T.M.Soundarajan whose voice I dislike; this song and a few others are exceptions. The reason for my liking this song seems to be Kannadasan's lines. Kannadasan is a tremendous poet and his words tend to break through my dislike for TMS. In this mentioned song, I simply love his reference to the snake circled around Siva's neck conversing with Vishnu's vehicle Garuda. I love the line "athil artham ulladu" which means  "there is a meaning in what was said". As is usually the case when translating Indian words, like dharma, artham probably has more to it than the meaning.

I hummed the song in my head as I walked up the ramp to the art block. As I turned onto the veranda outside art room I saw a crowd standing around the jack fruit tree. I approached the 17 year old who is considered an expert in insects and reptiles and asked him the reason for the crowding. He said a few people had seen a snake near the tree. I asked him if it was poisonous. He said he did not know for he had not seen the snake himself. I became a part of the crowd for a few minutes. He looked towards me and said "there is no point waiting here. The snake is too scared to come out. Besides it would have settled down comfortably in some nook and has no reason to come out." I believed the guy for he knew more about reptiles than humans. I walked away. Later that evening, I asked him if he had seen the snake. He said "Yes! Its was a harmless bronzeback."

I don't think I will ever forget this boy. I find his passion for reptiles and insects unique. He and a few of his friends can be seen looking underneath stones and rocks in the campus in search of reptiles. When one sees him running through the campus, one can be sure that a reptile has been spotted in the campus. I hear the phrase "in him, snakes have a knowledgeable teen-aged individual" when I think of him.

Across worlds

I am not sure where I am. Everything around seems familiar and yet I am unable to identify my location. I think I know what is happening but I am not sure. As is usually the case, I have very little control of the events taking place but somehow it seems the events are beyond my control. Just the previous day, my spectacles frame decided to break without any warning. One of the screws decided to disappear without trace and I ended with two pieces of the frame and a missing screw. The situation landed in my life out of nowhere and I looked up at the residence of Gods and poured out my feelings as abuses. But I could find a resolution for the situation quickly. But this is different  for I am unable to resolve anything and somehow my life seems to be in a spiral. Suddenly I am surrounded by darkness and the I hear the sound of the rain outside. I realize that I was dreaming; a dream that I no longer remember but something that was not pleasant and yet not unpleasant. 

I realized at that moment, that during the dream I was awake in another world and as soon as I woke up I came back to the real world. I did not hear the rainfall in my dream. I woke up suddenly and almost instantly I heard it. It was disorienting and shocking.

A teacher's tale

I have come to realise that the teaching community thinks of itself as a large family. For the past two years every time a teacher gets to know that I teach in a school their respective faces brighten and they say with a bright sparkle in their eyes "oh! I am a teacher too". Two years back I did not know what to do with this information and ended up exclaiming with a sheepish expression "Oh! Ah! How interesting!" Now I have a better response for this situation. Depending on the gender and age of the teacher I look at him/her as a brother or sister or uncle or aunt. I let the feeling of the warmth of the new found relationship run through me prior to asking something about them. I usually end up asking them about the school in which and the subjects they teach or taught. At times, the responses contain teaching experiences and anecdotes. This evening I ran into one such experience.

We walked into someone's house and the someone welcomed us by saying loudly (not to be misunderstood with shouting) "I hope you did not visit that house". We were taken aback and did not respond. He changed the statement to a question "did you visit that house?" One of us responded tentatively "we did". He moved his head back a bit, covered his forehead with his palm and said dramatically "why did you go now? Did you not know that there is a death in the family? I mentioned the news to you this morning and yet you did not realise. I only got to know later that you planned to visit this afternoon. I tried calling your mobile a number of times but your phones were not reachable". We could say nothing more than "oh!". He continued ranting "now I don't have a choice but to keep away from him for the next few days". 

Soon, the mood of despair changed and the topics of discussion became agreeable. He started discussing about the dramatic events preceding the aforementioned death "though she was in the hospital she was conscious and interacted with others. As a matter of fact we were chatting with her on Whatsapp when she suddenly stopped responding to our queries. We saw that she was online and yet did not respond to our chat. Five minutes later we got a message on the chat which said that she was no more. She died while chatting with us." We looked at him aghast. He shrugged his shoulder and moved on to other family topics.

A little later, the man's brother walked in and sat on the chair besides mine. As is usually the case, he asked me what I did. On hearing my response, he beamed and said "I too am a teacher".  I looked at him closely and realized that he did look like a teacher. Over time I have realized that in such situations the appropriate question to ask is "what do you teach?" but I was not interested in the "what" question and so I asked "where do you teach?" I had expected him to name one of the Government schools in Kerala and I was readying myself to ask the next question "where would that be?" But his response took me by surprise. "I have taught in many places but I retired as the principal of a school in Brunei". My brain froze. All systems in my body looked at each other in confusion. They did not know what to do next. My heart took the lead and gently nudged my brain back to normalcy. I was trying to digest the name Brunei. When a Malayalee utters Brunei, it can only refer to one place. At many times in my growing up years I had heard Brunei being uttered in my family with utmost respect. I had even met a family who had lived in that place for many years. This person sitting besides me did not seem anything like them. Thus my surprise forced me to utter "In Brunei!" The man responded "For fifteen years". I could not contain my curiosity and asked him to tell me about his teaching journey. 

"I worked for a few years nearby for a few months when I got an opportunity to teach in Kenya. I grabbed it and accepted the offer. I taught in  a few Kenyan schools for nearly six years. At that time, South Africa was moving away from the apartheid policy and many Indians teaching in the African continent considered it as a land of opportunities. So I moved to South Africa when I got an offer and started teaching there. Within a few years I got an opportunity to teach at Brunei. Brunei seemed like a land of milk and honey and I moved to there, quite unnecessarily. I had a good career at Brunei monetarily and professionally. As I mentioned earlier, in the fifteen years I spent at Brunei, I became the principal of the school. But I should not have left South Africa.

At around the time I left, the South African government wanted the teachers from outside the country to leave. They did not want to pay the outsiders and thought that the opportunity should be provided to the locals. The teachers went to the court and filed a case against the government demanding a severance package for the separation. The teachers won the case and the government was asked to provide the appropriate severance package. When the government calculated the package, it turned out to be a significant amount. The government, quite rightly, thought it foolish to pay the existing teachers and to spend money additional budget on the new teachers. So they backed out and let the existing teachers, many of them Indians, continue. 

So my colleagues continued residing in South Africa. They became permanent residents and bought properties in good neighbourhoods; properties that the whites leaving the country were selling. Over time, the value of the properties rose. When they retired they sold these properties for a healthy value and returned to India with a more than healthy bank balance. As they were working in Government schools in South Africa, they receive a good sum as pension every month. In most cases, both husband and wife worked as teachers and together they receive nearly Rs. 80,000 every month, which is more than comfortable to live in Kerala. Also they have the big balance to live in luxury.

It is not like I am terribly unhappy or I had a bad career but the decision to move to Brunei was unnecessary."

Everyday journey challenges

The Flaming Lips are not an easy listen. The music can be cacophonous and the singer loves to sing or can only sing off key. But I find the songs catchy. How can one not love songs with words like "this here giraffe, laughed". There's also a terrifying version of the song "What a wonderful world!". Ardent lovers of the original by Louis Armstrong would definitely hate The Flaming Lips for having sung the song thus. The out of tune singing and feedback drenched music makes it an ideal end-of-the-world song. The past week, I decided to play the entire Flaming Lips discography during my ride to and from work.

The winding roads were not tough to maneuver but the cows residing on the roads made the drive challenging. I had driven over mud roads earlier but not over such maad roads. The cows did not care about the traffic. They lay on the left and right side and the centre of the road chewing their cud. As the vehicles approached them, they looked at the vehicles with disinterest and continued chewing. Many times, I tried to decipher their thoughts but they maintained a blank expression. I am sure the Zen monks can learn a trick or two from them. Usually the cows left just enough space for a car to squeeze through them. But they ensured the vehicle had to swerve to the left or right once they get through the gaps. The bigger vehicles did not have this choice. They stopped and honked but the cows were not affected. The driver honked some more. They slowly pushed up their hind legs and remained in the resulting right angle triangle pose for a few minutes. The driver, by now, was desperate and honked with all his energy. The cows pushed up their front legs and stood looking like a chewing rectangle. By now, the driver was hurling abuses about the cow's parents. The cows' love for their parents usually resulted in their moving away from the path of the vehicle. 

At many points during this journey, the dogs take objection to my car and chase it while barking. I have been tempted, sometimes, to stop the car and ask them "why?" but was not sure if I would understand their response and hence usually drive away annoyed. Once I saw a lone boy walking along the side of the door swinging his badge above his head. He soon started skipping along the road twirling his badge above his head. I couldn't help but wonder at his joy this early in morning as he walked alone to his school. The road winded towards the red coloured buildings of the law college beyond which lay the forest. By forest, I don't mean the thick wooded evergreen tropical forest kind of forest but the sparsely populated scrub jungle. I have heard that the forest is home for a few animals.  Not the tiger and lion kind of animals but the deer and mongoose kind of animals. Once i had seen seen a mongoose standing on its hind legs in the centre of the road and look into the horizon at the approaching vehicle; the car I was driving. As the car got closer it probably realized that it was a car, which could squash it and ran away. One morning when the music was not blaring out of the stereo and the window panes were down I heard the songs of many birds emanating from the trees. I decided to drive with no music since then but have forgotten about it since. I am sure I will not remember it the next time I drive through that stretch of the road.

The road curves to the right and the forest lands on either side give way to the bund of a big lake on the left and a smaller lake on the right. I remember hearing that the road did not exist eighty years back and the area was a large lake. As in other places, humanity decided to disturb the lake by constructing a road through it. I marveled at the foresight of the set of people eighty years ago who decided to construct this road for my convenience. I did not thank them for I believed it was their destiny to do so. A garbage dump existed on the right; between the bund and road. On most days, foul smell did not emanate from the dump but recently bulldozers started clearing the garbage and the stink from the decomposing waste that lay underneath the fresh waste became unbearable. Actually, nearly unbearable for I did not raise the windows as I passed it; I held my breath for a few seconds instead. The clearing was not done properly and the road by the dump was littered with garbage. I understand the reason for humans not treating garbage with respect but not the way the place with the garbage is treated. I don't think we truly respect anyone or anything.

The road became messy within a few hundred metres. A few months back the potholes lay beyond a speed breaker but now there were a few prior to it too. I changed to the second gear and swerved the steering this way and that to avoid the potholes. It was a futile effort but I indulged in it every time I passed the stretch. No part of the road existed without potholes and at all times at least one of the wheel found itself within a pothole. Many college and school buses plied on this stretch of the road and a few of the driver were impatient oafs. They got their large buses right behind the car and honked vigourously. Sometimes the oafs yanked their large vehicles to the right and overtook me. Usually I ignored them and focused my attention on the potholes. But a few day existed where this behaviour annoyed me enough to mouth words that I should not.

Soon I reached a location that presented the most challenging situation in my life. I am not sure if I will ever resolve this challenge. I wish I had a Parthasarathi who would help me differentiate the right from the wrong of this situation.

Beyond the bad stretch of the road, I had to take a right from a four road junction to reach my destination . Near the middle of the junction stands a tall lamp post. It is not at exactly at the centre of the road but is slightly to the right of the road. The police have placed a barricade from the post to the centre of the road. The reason for the existence of this barricade is not clear. In India, we are supposed to keep to the left of the road. But at the intersection none of the vehicles taking the right keep to the left. Instead they go as the water would flow. I hate doing that. I cross the lamp post and take the right turn keeping the post on my right, that is, on the left side of the road. This confuses everyone at the junction. The person coming from the opposite side thinks that I am going straight as I did not turn prior to the lamp post and so does not slow down. The person coming from the road on the right side taking a right does not expect me to come onto his path and so does not slow down. The person behind me does not expect me to take a right as I have crossed the post without taking a right and so does not slow down. The person coming from my left going straight and the person coming from the opposite side taking left down do not slow down anyway as they want to get ahead of me. All these persons, ignore the fact that the right indicator on my car is blinking. Usually I let everyone pass and then take the right. But I wonder if I should do what others are doing and not do what I think is right. How can I be sure I am right? Parathasaratheeee! Where are you when I need you?