Kasab's Hanging - My Take

I am a bit late with this subject. It is four days since Ajmal Kasab was hanged. I saw the country ‘celebrating’ the hanging with people dancing on the streets and bursting fire crackers. Our channels telecasted the act just as they did the opening/closing events of Olympics. I do not know if this senselessness is inherent in us or we do it because political outfits eager to get cheap popularity ‘organize’ these things and the media more eager to attract viewers, telecast them. It was sad.

Kasab’s act was horrible, unfortunate, considered war against the country and it was right that according to the law he was to be hanged.  People ‘for’ capital punishment should have heaved a sigh a relief, those against it should have shook their heads and accepted it as something that could not be helped and that was it. It did not call for celebration. The act of hanging was not something like winning a war or test match.  (We have reached a stage where both of these are same for us)

These things remained just as just thoughts in my mind and I had no intention of putting them here. Just now I saw a photograph of ‘supporters’ of MNS carrying a mock Hanging of Kasab in front of CST Mumbai and noticed the expressions of bravery and ferocity in their faces. That made me come out with this post. I don’t think any one of them would have stepped out of their houses if they had heard that Kasab had escaped and was somewhere in Mumbai with another gun in his hand. 

Just SomeThoughts

As I have mentioned many times before, some of the news items that I read in the papers create a bigger impact than many others for no apparent reason. I will have a strong urge to do something about them but can’t do anything. And they occupy quite a number of grey cells in my brain of which there is a very limited supply to begin with. So I pick them out (thoughts I mean, not grey cells) and put them here thereby releasing the grey cells and allowing them to take up other essential activities.

Bala Saheb Thackeray’s death took up some space. Not his death as such. He was aged and due. Everybody have to die one day. My condolences and may his soul rest in peace. I am not an admirer of Sri Thackeray. In fact, I do not know much about him except the fact that he was supposed to have been a good cartoonist who was intelligent enough to fire up the ‘Maharashtra for Maharashtrians’ feeling and exploit it for his growth in the society. What upset me was the crazy behavior of his supporters on hearing the news of his illness and death, forcing Maharashtra to close down. Since we are ‘like that only’ I took it in my stride. Today I read the news of two girls being arrested for posting their views (very much similar to mine) about it on the net. I believe the police had to arrest them as they were forced to do so by ‘shivsainiks’. There is no hope for our country and there is no hope for the windowpanes of my house and the windshield of my car if ‘shivsainiks’ read my blog.

The other item I intend mentioning is the death of more than twenty people because in a stampede near Patna. I believe they were there to offer ‘Arghya’ (a religious offering) to the setting sun.  Let me not get into the subject of religion and religious practices or the inadequacies of any government. I will get bogged down up to my neck. I feel bad about the loss of life but I wonder why crowd any place for worshiping the sun?  One of the Kannada proverbs come to mind. “Aakaasha nodoke nookunuggalu” which can be translated as “crowding and jostling, to see the sky!”.

Incidentally, happened to see bits of the movie ‘Oh My God’ on the TV. Very much liked the bits that I saw. Today I read that the ‘Hindu Janajagruti Samiti’ is protesting the screening of the movie (for making fun of gods) during the IFFI in Goa (I do not approve of IFFI in the first place - waste of public money in my opinion, that is another matter) and demanding that Akshay Kumar be not allowed to open the event. He made the movie OMG and is expected to inaugurate the IFFI- Goa.

Anything one does, offends someone else and evokes severe reactions.We are going from bad to worse. 

'Happy Diwali'

The SMS greeting arrived the night before Diwali. It was a long one and it ended with,

“May the festival of thousand lights illuminate your life - Happy Diwali”

Just as I finished reading the message I heard the sound of a cracker bursting and the lights went out.  It was not a cracker. A fuse had blown in the fuse box of the transformer next to our house. Total darkness. I called the electricity department. No answer. I went there. There was only one clerk sitting gloomily in the office. I wrote the complaint.

“No staff. There is only one line man on duty”. 

I waited in the office. A line man arrived after half an hour lamenting that he has been put on duty when everyone else is in ‘Happy Diwali’ mood.

“Our driver is not there. You take him with you and drop him back” the clerk said. 

I took the line man on my scooter. He replaced the fuse in the fuse box and voila, our life was illuminated! 

I dropped the lineman back wishing him ‘Happy Diwali’ and placing a fifty rupee note in his hand without which there would have been no happiness.  

That was last year. Our lights are on this year and I am able to send this to wish all of you   

“A VERY HAPPY DIWALI”

‘May the festival of thousand lights make your life glow. May the fuse in your life's fuse box never blow’.

A Snake In My Garden

I was preparing a tooth for a filling and my assistant, who was mixing the filling material on the working table near the window, suddenly dropped the instruments and started gesticulating wildly. When I went closer I heard her whispering “snake” and following her pointing finger, noticed the creature on the stone tiles in front of our portico. On an impulse, I dropped my instruments and ran out to get a better view. That was foolish. Snakes don’t hear but they sense the vibrations in the ground and move away. If you intend getting closer to a snake you need to tread slowly and lightly. Our snake however seemed to be still young and not well versed with the ways of snakes and hence, had remained where it was.

I had a closer look.  It was greenish brown or brownish green which ever you like better, about two and a half feet long and as thick as my thumb. It was stationary, had its head raised and was facing my clinic window. My next impulse was to get a picture of it for posting it on face book. Day in and day out I see all my friends posting pictures of birds, bees, beetles, bushes, butterflies, flowers, plants, clouds, sun and moon and I had not found anything worthwhile. Here was my chance. I ran in to get the camera. (If you are searching for the snake in the pictures, please don’t strain your eyes. The snake is present only in the story and not in the pictures! Pictures only show the spot where I found the snake and where I lost it) That was foolish again. If you want to do anything with a snake, never take your eyes off it. If your eyes are away even for a second the snake performs the vanishing act. But this was a very considerate snake. It pardoned my foolishness and had remained in the same place and pose till I came back with the camera. But I don’t know what made it suddenly change its mind, may be it noticed the camera in my hand and saw the ‘Paparazzi’ in me, it had slithered away sometime between me shifting the focus from the natural eye to the camera eye. Frantically I searched for it and just caught sight of its tail disappearing into the jasmine bush.

This jasmine bush is right next to our portico and from there it is just another step into the house. Now the impulse was to forget the camera and the face book and see that the snake is lead out of our premises before it claimed resident status in 139/6, Curti- Ponda.  When your intention is to prod and coax a snake out of your property the camera is of no use and so, I ran in again to get a stick. Third time foolish. It had not taken more than ten seconds for me to get back with the stick (we keep some sticks next to the front door because I take one for my morning walk and we use them to shoo off dogs, monkeys and when the situation arises, a snake) but by the time I got back, the snake, probably fed up with my foolishness, did not want to have anything to do with me and had moved away. I did not find it either in the jasmine bush or anywhere around.

Now there were three possibilities. It might have gone deeper into our compound and reached the back of the house, it might have gone out the way it had come or it might have followed me and entered the house unnoticed. The floor of the portico and the steps are polished and snakes usually do not prefer polished surfaces. And if you believe my wife, our veranda is so cluttered with compressors, inverters, shoe racks and book shelves and looks so horrible that nobody would feel like entering it. Assuming that the snakes harbour similar sentiments, I ruled out the third possibility and decided to make sure that it was not anywhere within the compound.

First I beat the hell out of the jasmine bush and proceeded slowly towards the back of the house. After trying to prod and coax a length of flexible rubber pipe, a strip of cloth and the exposed root of the papaya tree to move out of our compound, I realized the futility of trying to chase a snake out without my glasses  and - no, I did not run back for my glasses. I stood where ever I was and called for it. I was getting wiser! (Though there was no point in getting wiser at this stage) Now, fully equipped with my glasses and armed with the stick I proceeded in a methodical search.

I searched the gaps between the stone tiles placed on the ground, 

overturned the stones supporting the papaya tree and made it lose its balance,

rolled out the discarded car tyres disturbing the lizards relaxing in their houses,

and went through all other places which may welcome a stray snake. My efforts only produced half a dozen cockroaches, few lizards, an army of ants, and a centipede and having found no sign of the snake or its tail anywhere and I declared our property free of snakes.

My wife and son refused to accept my word. My wife said that she has more faith in my son’s contact lenses than my glasses and directed him to repeat the search. My son went around the house once again with extra care under the expert guidance of my wife (who was directing the operations from the balcony) and after another exhaustive search disturbing some more members of the peace loving fauna residing with us, endorsed my declaration.

 I went back to work (my patient was even more considerate than the snake and had waited in the chair all the while) and within another two minutes found my assistant dancing near the window once again. I went to the window and believe it or not, our snake was there again in the same place on the stone tiles looking at the clinic window! I believe that snakes do not have eyelids but I felt that it winked at me as if challenging me for another game of hide and seek. I could afford to lose the goodwill of the snake but not of the patient (‘paapi pet ka savaal hai’) and so, I just stood there watching it and not displaying any eagerness about starting another game. The snake waited for a moment and having concluded that I was not sportive enough it glided out beautifully as only snakes can, through  the water hole in our compound wall towards the thick bushes growing next to our house and disappeared from my sight. 

  

Fate Prevails

It was quarter past ten at night and we were on our way to Chennai Central station to catch the 23.15 Bangalore mail after spending four pleasant days in Chennai.  People who have experienced Chennai are bound to exclaim “how can Chennai be pleasant?”. It was raining and the rain had turned the city unbelievably cool (while also turning it into a big dirty water puddle) plus we were in the pleasant company of my sister’s family. We went to Chennai to join them for my nephew’s ‘wedding shopping’. They were happy that we joined them and my wife is happiest when she is shopping - for anyone, for anything, anywhere. So, everybody was happy (shop owners the most) and I was happy looking at everyone being happy. “naguva keLuta naguvudatishayada dharma”!  - Mankutimmana Kagga.

We had crossed ‘Adyar’ bridge, and were just fifteen minutes away from the station. I was looking forward to a comfortable journey back, the Bangalore mail being one of my favourite trains. Whenever I have travelled by that train, it has been on time. It departs at my bed time 11pm, and arrives at my wake up time, 5 am. Very convenient.

Since it was past ten the traffic was light and in no time we were on the ‘Kamarajar promenade’ running parallel to the Marina beach. Lovely stretch of road. We would be in the central station in another ten minutes.  We were engaged in light talk and I was addressing my brother in law as ‘His lordship’ and was trying to pull his legs making light of his elevated status. In his new assignment, he is an ‘Expert member’ making up a ‘bench’ along with a judge in one of the central tribunals and enjoys the status of a secretary to the government.

The driver turned into the Flagstaff road and was now about five minutes away from Chennai Central. Immersed in our talk, we noticed that the car had stopped, only after it had been stationary for more than three minutes. There was a block ahead. It was 22.40 but we were almost there. Once the block cleared, we would be on the platform in a jiffy. No worry.

A police vehicle arrived and diverted the cars to the other side of the road, one which was meant for oncoming traffic. Our  car moved, momentary anxiety passed and my wife and sister got back to the analysis of ‘sarees’ that had been bought while I tried to understand the purpose behind constituting the Central Tribunal that my brother in law had joined. (Other than giving him a cushy post retirement job.)

Within half a kilometer the car stopped again. The side of the road (actually what is called the wrong side) in which we were cruising was also blocked solid. It was less than half an hour before the departure of our train and pangs of anxiety started traversing along the body. I started looking at the watch every half a minute.  Two minutes passed and our driver realized that if he has to reach Chennai central, either he has to find an alternate route or somehow convert the car into a helicopter. He decided on the former course of action, took a U turn before our back was packed and we were on the way back to beach road. He said that he would turn into the ‘North fort road’ further ahead and that we would be in front of Chennai Central before eleven.

He kept his word and we were right in front of Chennai central five minutes before eleven. All we had to do now was take a right turn to enter the station but the road divider prevented that action.  We had to proceed another hundred meters, take a U turn, come back and enter the station. But when fate decides to trouble you it puts in its best. We were right in front of the station but in yet another traffic jam and proceeding even a centimeter was out of question let alone hundred meters.

Now it was three minutes to eleven and pangs of anxiety were turning into pangs of panic. I was looking at the watch every ten seconds and had an immense urge to get out of the car, climb over the road divider and dash into the station. An action not possible as there was no way that the doors could be opened in the traffic jam (our position somewhat similar to that of the municipality fellow in the first scene of ‘Lage Raho Munnabhai’) and assuming that somehow we did, no way that I could make my wife climb over and cross the three feet high road divider. Twenty eight years back I would have just lifted her and put her across and it would have been a pleasure. I could attempt it now only if I were a crane operator. So there was nothing to do other than sit inside the car wringing our hands. A true case of “so near and yet so far”.

Miraculously the vehicles ahead moved, and we reached the point of U turn only to find the reverse flow was also blocked. It was 23.00 and we were in a state of total panic. The driver who seemed to be the  only one still in his senses, turned into an opening which seemed to be leading away from the station, ignoring the orders of his ‘Lordship’ and the possibility of being held for ‘contempt of court’. He got into a narrow lane running behind the station and after a few twists and blind turns had arrived near platform five from the back! We were just about fifty meters from the platform when he found out that Chennai had many more equally resourceful drivers who were ahead of him and they had blocked that narrow lane too.

I had a lot of faith in our driver’s abilities but at that moment I decided that the time had come for me to depend up on my own. I found that there was enough space around the car to open the doors and the boot, jumped out, snatched two suitcases and started running towards the platform. My niece took a backpack and a bag and my wife and sister managed to carry themselves with an agility not usually seen. My brother in law was running with a suitcase on his head. It was too heavy for his hands.

Our compartment was at the far end of the train and after having run what seemed like a marathon along the platform, we were in it with three minutes to spare. My wife placed a hundred rupee note in my sister’s hands to be handed over to the resourceful driver along with our thanks and as we bid farewell we could hear the engine whistling. 

As the train rolled out of Chennai central I was left wondering at the ways of fate. Fate, even though at times seemed to be working  against its own will, had willed that we catch the train that day and it had also willed  that my brother in law - at whose disposal the government has placed, staff to carry his briefcase, open the door of his car, hold his gown ready for wearing, and even open the cap of his pen for signing a judgement - ran with a suitcase on his head in competition with the porters of Chennai central, to make us catch that train!

“Vidhiya horegaLanu tappisikoLuvanellihanu? ……………… Vidhiyagasa, neen katte, mankutimma”

Where is the one who can evade the burden of fate?......... fate is the driver and you, the donkey!

Note: Picture in this post is not mine. Taken from the net to have some colour. 

Son Invasion - Teaching Dentistry To My Son.

“How do you manage to extract teeth with this forceps? Its beaks do not close and they are blunt. There is no grip. It slips.” That was my son who seemed to be experiencing some difficulty with the extraction he was attempting. He was using one of my extraction forceps, a veteran instrument with more than five thousand teeth under its belt and still going strong (as I thought). He put it down, removed his gloves, rubbed his finger, and looked at me accusingly for providing him with substandard equipment. “The forceps slipped and fractured the crown. Why can’t you throw this out and buy a new one? ” He is just  out of the college after getting his post graduate degree in dentistry and has joined me in my clinic.

“Throw the forceps out? What do you mean? I have extracted not less than five thousand teeth with it and it is good for another five thousand.”

“That is precisely what I mean. It has been used so much that it has gone blunt and the gap between the beaks is as wide as India gate. You just can’t get a firm grip with that.”

“The defect is not with the forceps but with your technique. If you cannot extract the tooth, tell me and I will show you how to do it. Don’t blame the forceps.”

“Given a proper forceps I can very well extract any tooth. We have not been taught to extract teeth using pre historic tools like this.”

“If you can’t do it, just leave it there. I will finish this filling and takeover that case.”

This is a sample conversation that can sometimes be heard in my clinic these days after my son entered my practice. Most of the time we manage to work as a team but once in a way such exchanges erupt.

“You call this an operating light? A candle would be brighter.”

“Why does the compressor make such a big noise.  I am surprised our neighbours have not complained of noise pollution”

“Are you still using ZOE paste for impression? The only other tube of ZOE (zinc oxide eugenol) that I saw was in the museum” - are few more examples of his observations which irritate me and which start a strong debate.

My clinic is set up to suit my requirements based on the type of work I do and based on my abilities, both professional and financial.  Things have been added and deleted to and from my original equipment. I do not find anything lacking. My son, just out of college, with pictures of latest techniques and equipments fresh in his mind is not finding it easy to adapt to my haphazard (as it seems to him) set up.  And his lack of experience adds to his troubles.

I washed up after the filling and went over to the other chair where the hapless patient waited with his mouth open and teeth numb, praying silently and waiting for his tooth to be out. Fortunately our exchanges are in Kannada and our Konkani speaking patients are blissfully unaware of our short comings.

I checked for numbness. My son’s numbing injection was working. The forceps had slipped, breaking the tooth a bit and causing some minor injuries to the gums (and probably to my son’s fingers too) but that did not matter. With the confidence gained by having removed more than fifty thousand teeth, I applied the forceps to the tooth and gave a firm tilt. The tooth did not move. I applied additional force. Nothing .  I tried to move the tooth in the opposite direction. No use. I applied even greater force, the forceps slipped and the tooth broke at the neck with a loud noise. The patient jumped and the root remained firmly where it was. Ideally, it should have been the other way round.

My son lifted his head, opened an eye, removed an earphone from one of his ears and looked at me enquiringly. (Having left the case to me he was sitting at the table, eyes closed, his MP3 player on and the earphones plugged to his ears - annoying )

 “Broke”?

 I nodded my head.

“Forceps slipped?”

“You had already fractured the crown and may be the root is also curved.”

“What are you going to do now?”

 “I will do an open method.”

(An ‘open method’ incidentally is what we do when there is not enough tooth to get a grip with the forceps. The root of the tooth will be inside the jaw bone under the gums out of reach of forceps. In such a case we cut a bit of the jaw bone around the neck of the tooth so that we can expose more of the root and get a hold to pull it out again. It is done by chipping off the bone at the intended place with a chisel or drilling it out with a bur - a small ‘drill bit’ like thing)

“You have bone cutting burs?”

“I do have them but I don’t use them. I use a chisel for my open methods”

“Using a chisel? As I hear, they were very popular when dinosaurs were around. Haven’t heard of anyone using them these days.”

“I do. Even though the procedure looks somewhat barbaric, using a chisel is simpler, faster and less damaging to the bone.” (The dentist positions the chisel on the part of the bone that needs to be chipped off and the assistant hits it with a mallet - if you have seen construction workers cutting steel bars using chisel and hammer, you  know what I mean)

“I feel a bur is better. But do it your way.” He plugged his earphones back into his ears and closed his eyes.

“Switch off that MP3 player, come here and observe what I do. I am sure this is not taught in your college. It may be useful some day.”

 He reluctantly detached the MP3 player from his head and came over.

I positioned the chisel. I asked my helper to hit it. She hit and the chisel slipped. I told her to hit it straight on the head - of the chisel I mean - and not from an angle. She got some hits right but nothing happened.  The trouble with this chisel and mallet is that both the operator and the helper should be experienced in using it. The hit from the mallet should produce optimum force. Enough to cut the bone but not to cause extra damage. This helper was new and not much experienced with the procedure. I asked her to hit harder and she hit with all her force. The chisel cut through the bone, chipped off the root and fortunately stopped before fracturing the mandible (Lower jaw).

 “I hope that the mandible is not fractured. Don’t waste your time and torture the patient more. Use the bur.” - My son.

“She is not able to understand what I mean. I hope you as a dentist do. Don’t stand there making comments. Take that mallet from her.”

 “Don’t make me a partner in the crime. Use the bur” he repeated.

I was about invoke my authority and ask him to shut up and take the mallet but then I noticed that the patient was getting wary of my surgery.  The bur may generate heat and damage the bone but it is definitely more comfortable to the patient. I took the bur and within minutes had drilled out required amount of bone and loosened the root. I could take it out without even using the forceps but just with the use of an elevator, a screwdriver shaped thing with which we prise the tooth out. The job was over.

My son was smiling. He did not say “See? I told you” but his smile did.

“You need not be so smug” I said “there would have been no need for an open method if you had used the forceps properly right in the beginning and avoided fracturing the crown. Now suture the wound and finish.”

Suturing usually is the job of underlings. But it is also true that I have difficulty doing it and my son does it better.

Making sure that he remained in the clinic, I washed and went into the house to call our material supplier, out of my son’s hearing, for a new forceps and a supply of bone cutting burs. 

When my son joined dentistry, everyone who heard about it said “Good. You will be able to guide him. He will surely gain from your vast experience.”  !!!!!!!!!.

PS: Apologies. In my previous post I had assured my friends that drawing a picture was a onetime folly and that it will not be repeated. Sorry to have gone back on my words. I did not have any pictures of ‘open method’ and felt that it would be difficult to comprehend without an illustration. The intention at least was good. I don’t know about the result.

Piece Of Tradition

Worshipping Lord Ganapati on Ganesh chaturthi ( fourth day in the month of Bhadrapada of the Hindu calendar) and  goddess Gowri, Ganapati’s mother, on trutiya (third day of the month) has been a tradition in our family for decades or probably centuries. Decades I know. Centuries I guess. This involves bringing clay idols of Lord Ganapati and Gowri, setting them up on a suitably decorated platform or ‘Mantap’ as it is called, worshipping them on the specific days according to tradition, preparing tasty dishes (purportedly as offering to the gods), eating them to heart content and at the end of the festivities immersing the idols in a well or a stream.  Since there are hardly any wells or streams around these days, a bucketful of water performs the function of a well. Before the ‘puja’ (religious worship) you invoke the god and request him/her to enter the idol and accept your worship. After the ‘puja’ you invoke a well into your bucket and immerse the idols in it.

Even though Ganesha chaturti is celebrated all over the country and more importantly in all the southern states, my experience is limited to the way it was being done in Bengaluru, and after I shifted to Goa, what I have seen in Goa during the last three decades. Between the two states I find that lot more importance is given to tradition in Goa. There is tradition involved in every aspect of the festival here. You get the idols from the same idol maker every year. The colour, shape, size and trimmings are always the same. The ‘Mantap’, its decorations and the offerings to the deity follow tradition. The priest who comes over to guide the ‘puja’ will always be from a particular family. The number of days that the idol is kept for worship is fixed and so is the place of immersion. One rarely deviates from tradition.

I read a recent news item  which said that one of the families had an old ‘Mantap’ which had reached a stage of collapse after bearing the Lord’s elephantine weight and bearing with the coastal humidity over decades. The family ordered for an exact replica and it was done only after obtaining approval from the ‘Kuladevata’ (family deity) and with the concurrence of the traditional family priest!

As far as the ‘Mantap’ is concerned we too had our tradition and the ‘Mantap’ that hosted the idols in our house at Bengaluru traditionally was an upturned table. We had only one table in our house which was meant to assist our education process and for three days in a year it housed lord Ganapati who is the god in charge of knowledge. I do not know if studying on the table which hosted the lord of knowledge boosted our learning process but the fact that the learning process came to a standstill during those days surely boosted our festival spirit.

This up turned table was very convenient as a ‘Mantap’.  Its four legs jutting out of four corners were ideal for tying plantain saplings, and mango leaves were hung on a string tied across the legs. The drawers made the raised platform and the idols seated in their places for traditional worship with lighted oil lamps by their side were a pretty sight unlike what you see right now in the picture above, incidentally my debut as an artist. (Please resist the urge to reach for the key board for drafting protest letters. And if you must, reach for my artist cousin’s neck if you can. He happens to be the inspiration. Anyway I assure you that I will not do it again.)

After I shifted to Goa and we started celebrating the festival here, I had to give up the tradition of an upturned table as there were no tables around (my learning process had stopped long back and my children’s process was yet to begin) and for a few years we deviated from tradition and housed our Ganapati once on the TV table, once on the book shelf, once on a teapoy and so on. Then our old refrigerator broke and we bought a new one during a Ganesh Chaturti discount sale. This one had its own legs to stand up on and our old wooden fridge stand was rendered redundant. During ‘Chaturthi’ that year we placed two wooden planks on top of this stand and from the humble position of a fridge stand its journey towards the exalted position of Ganapati’s  ‘Mantap’ began.

It served the lord in its original shape for few years and during the construction of our present house I got a marble slab cut to size and used it as the top instead of the rotting planks and the fridge stand really started looking like something made for the purpose.

Another year my son got inspired by the decoration of the ‘Mantap’ in his friend’s place and decorated our ‘Mantap’ too with shiny golden paper and hit two nails at the corners for tying a string for the purpose of hanging auspicious mango leaves. With these trimmings it turned out to be a fully developed Ganapati  ‘Mantap’. It has served for more than a decade now and has become the traditional ‘Mantap’ of our household.

I am sure that my improvised ‘Mantap’ will surely last longer than me and few more decades down the line those who are around will have no knowledge of its humble origin. It will only be known as the Ganapati ‘Mantap’ always being used for placing the idols for worship during the Ganesh Chaturti festival.

Another piece of tradition is born.

Shielding Fish From Rain!

Ever heard of someone holding an umbrella over fish to shield it from rain?                                                                      

Well, that is what exactly one of my friends did last night!

We were at a party in a farm near Ponda, (incidentally a fresh water fish farm but no true Goan would touch a fresh water fish with a barge pole, leave alone holding an umbrella over it to protect it from rain.) and some of my friends were frying fish (King fish, fresh from the Arabian sea) in the open. It rained, there was only one umbrella, and it was used to shield the fish being fried while the group of onlookers hovering around, offering useful suggestions, eagerly anticipating the outcome, got wet.

For a Goan fish is priority and a king fish, as its name suggests, deserves royal treatment.

The New Cricket Hero and His BA.

Unmukt Chand, is the captain of the India under 19 cricket team (this information is for those who are worse than me in keeping up to date with cricket). His team managed to beat Australia and lift the world cup - under 19. Great and congratulations. The whole team is assured of a great future in cricket, fantastic sale prices in IPL, endorsement  offers by  ‘Youngistan’ Pepsi and what not. Very good.  Let them enjoy. They deserve it.

Now, what concerns me is the hue and cry (lead by our media) regarding the captain of the team being denied a chance to appear for and clear his BA exam. I appreciate the college authorities who stuck to rules and refused permission to appear for exams. Chand was playing cricket, no time for attending classes, lack of attendance (less than 33%), and so can't take exams. Right. What irks me is the apologetic utterances by the VC of Delhi university (I don’t know his name) and the Minister for human resources (Kapil Sibal) and their determination to set things right.

I do not understand what is there to set right? Unmukt Chand could have given up cricket and remained in his class like we fools and could have got his BA, BDS or whatever. He was good in Cricket, selected cricket and assured himself of a great career. Fine. But if he wants his BA, he should attend classes, study for exams and pass. That should be the stand of the University. If the university wants a share of  Chand’s glory it can offer him a Hon. Phd. and the minister can recommend him for 'Padmashri', both of which are available to all our cine actors, politicians and other popular folks. 

The university and the government should try to save what little credibility our  university degrees still have. Let we mortals have our degrees and the cricketers their glory.

The VC and minister are not trying to set things right, they are trying to set things wrong. 

Tamdi Surla - Water Falls

I have written about the first outing of 'The early birds of Ponda pool' (EBOPP) for short, to Dudh sagar falls, a trek of approximately 25 kms up and down some time earlier in this blog. I had also mentioned about the next two outings to Molem and Bondla where the focus was on restoring the energy lost during the first trek by consumption of lots of  fluids stored in different couloured bottles to go with other unfortunate leggy birds and legless swimmers of this universe. Now, having convinced themselves that they are sufficiantly restored, the EBOPP decided that they are in a condition to embark up on the next trek where focus will once again be on the use of their own legs and zeroed up on a visit to a waterfall near Tmbdi surla, a village in Sanguem taluka, South Goa, on the 15th Aug 2012.

Tambi Surla is at a distance of 38 kms from Ponda and is well known for the twelth century Shiva temple, supposed to be the oldest temple in Goa. It is Lord Mahadev's holiday home.

The trek begins single file after paying respects to the reigning deity of the place.

Surmounting the obstacles or tamely going under as it suits each individual

 Crossing  a dozen cool, pleasant, clear water streams in the path

 Keeping in mind that there are other occupants of the place who need to be treated with respect and regard, this one possibly a pit viper, located by one of the sharp eyed in the group,( lucky it did not cross my path, either pit viper would have ceased to exist or Raghunandan. More likely Raghunandan)

getting a first look of the falls from a distance, egging us to move faster

 we are there after an hour and fifteen minutes.

And immediately the swimmers  freak out and enjoy an exhilerating shower

A sedate walk back after an eco friendly trek (note the carry bag carrying tetra packs and other trash)

and after a relaxing swim in tamer waters near the temple, the swimmers return to their daily grind once again.

The Reis Magos Fort

Once in a way our family manages to shrug off the built in lethargy and gets out to spend an evening together. Last Wednesday was one such day and the shrugging off of lethargy was aided to a great extent by my wife’s statement/threat that whoever stays back home in the evening will cut the vegetables for curry, mix the dough for chapattis and make other arrangements for preparation of dinner.

We unanimously decided to spend the evening out and were trying to find a place worth visiting when the name Reis Magos Fort sprang up. I had read recently in the news paper that the old fort which was being used as a prison and later was allowed to rot had been restored and spruced up. We did not know if it would be worth going there and since the location map showed it to be on the opposite bank of river Mandovi, close to Panaji, we felt that we could take a chance. A drive along the river Mandovi is always welcome.

We managed to start at half past four and reached the fort at half past five wondering what the timings would be. The new board in front of the fort said that we need not wonder for long and showed the timings 9.30 AM  -  5.30 PM,  and the lock on the gate indicated very clearly that the timing was being strictly followed.

I felt bad for having missed it and we walked to the ‘Three Kings church’ just next to the fort and spent some time admiring the view of river Mandovi from the church.

The gate to enter the fort was closed but there was nothing to prevent me from walking around the fort and while doing so, at one point I found some stairs going half way up the fort.

I climbed up and sat there enjoying the cool breeze when my sight fell on a half open door next to the landing.  I tentatively stepped in to appease my curiosity and found that it opened onto a large terrace from which there was a good view of the fort itself

and another flight of stairs that lead to the top. We had made a back door entry into the fort!

The small museum at the top was closed but we were rewarded by the wonderful view of the Mandovi   estuary and the Cabo Raj Nivas - the Goa governor’s residence. The governor stays at the tip of the land mass you see projecting into the river at a distance, in a beautiful bungalow overlooking the Murmugao port and the arabian sea. Lucky governor!

We climbed down, spent some pleasant time on the terrace where one of my sons got himself occupied exploring the prison cells which now contained paintings of old time Goa and the other  was happy just roaming around  talking on his mobile phone.

My wife's observation and objection always is that we are together just as long as we are in the car and not a minute later. We decided to make an attempt to dispel the thought and managed to sit together a minute for a family photo.

It was getting dark by then and we started back thanking our luck for providing us an entry into the fort and on reaching the door, found it closed and bolted but fortunately not locked.

We offered our thanks to the carpenter who had fitted the padlock in a way that cannot be locked and attempted to open the rusty bolt. It screeched aloud and protested our furious attempts but gave up after five minutes. Even after releasing the bolt it was not easy to push the door open and the use of my children’s might only made it groan and brought down flakes of mud from the roof. We hastily moved back, thought of shouting for help and decided to do so after another attempt. With some gentle but firm persuasion my children managed to open the door keeping the fort intact. We thanked our luck once again for not locking us inside and returned home with a nice feeling and a set of  pictures to keep the memory of a pleasant evening alive for a long time. 

Job Satisfaction

James Alfred Wight’s (James Herriot) animal stories,  named “All things bright and beautiful” “All things wise and wonderful”  “All creatures great and small” and “The lord god made them all” are one of my all time favourites. Even though they are known as animal stories, they are more about the owners of the animals and other human characters that the author came in contact with and are endearingly written about.  The stories in

general give a beautiful picture of life in early 20^th century in Yorkshire, always making me feel “oh, I should have been there, then”.

There is a vast difference between his time, society and patients and those of mine but I come across many things that I can relate to his work as a person providing and living on providing health care. A few decades into the profession, many a times he mentions about the new techniques, materials and medicines available to him, which were not there when he began his work and wonders about the huge difference that they made to his life as a veterinarian.

Thirty years after beginning work, I can count a few such things in my life as a dentist, one of which is the availability of the composite resin or the light cured acrylic for dental fillings which I had never heard when I began my work.

The broken tooth in the picture would have required placement of a crown or ‘cap’ involving considerable amount of work spread over a few days and the support of a very good lab technician to get the result which I managed to obtain in an hour by rebuilding the broken part over the stump using the composite material.

Fee received - Not worth mentioning.

Job satisfaction - priceless.

Mysore Zoo And The Slide

During my school days Mysore was our permanent holiday destination and a trip to Mysore was never complete without a visit to the Zoo. Even though we continued to visit Mysore at least once a year, visits to the Zoo were less frequent after I crossed primary school. It once again appeared on the ‘must do’ list when my children were young. I had not been to the Zoo after my children grew up (may be last fifteen years).

I went there last week during my recent visit to Mysore and was happy to find many changes for the better. Better enclosures for the animals and better toilets for the visitors to name just two of the most important. Also, I noticed that two things have remained unchanged.  One was the behavior of the animals and visitors - animals behaving as gentlemanly as they used to be and the visitors behaving like animals shouting and gesticulating in front of the enclosures.

The other was this slide.

 I had completely forgotten about it till I saw it next to the aviary. It stood as it did decades ago, the very sight now bringing a flood of child hood memories. It is the tallest and the smoothest slide that I have ever slid down and I remember that we used to immensely enjoy the slides. We used to slide on our bottoms, stomachs and backs and return home happy with sand and mud in our hair and pockets. I had an urge to climb up and slide down at least once but better sense prevailed and I just stood there happy with my memories and seeing children enjoying themselves.

It has been there for more than four decades and I don’t think that it has required any repairs or resurfacing. I hope it stays so forever, a source of pleasure for the young and an object bringing back pleasurable memories for the old. 

One For Me - One For You.

This papaya fruit is as small as a guava. It was green yesterday and had turned almost orange this morning. Ripe overnight without giving any indication. Reminded me of “neladinda moLakeyodevaaga tamtegaLilla, phala maaguvandu tutturidaniyilla” -  DVG.

Coming to the Guava, many people advised me to tie a plastic cover or a sock over them to protect them from Bats. I decided to do that only if bats turned as destructive as monkeys. I would not grudge them getting their fair share. It was as though the bats read my thoughts. Guava’s usually grow in pairs and the bats eat one and leave the other. This is the fifth. So it is one for me, one for you. I hope the understanding continues to work. 

'Phirbhi Dil Hai Hindustaani'

By about half past four on Sundays, after our afternoon nap and tea, we start thinking about spending the rest of the evening. After going over all possibilities like the beach, movie, temple, friends and shopping, we reject them all for one reason or the other. Then my wife goes for a walk with a MP3 player for company (She always complains that when I accompany her for a walk, which is actually a talk disguised as a walk, she has to do all the talking and that I never open my mouth! So if and when she is in a mood to listen, she finds a MP3 player better company) and I stay back watering the plants and washing the car. Since it had rained the previous night, there was no need to water the plants this Sunday and there was no point in washing the car during the rains. So, I just walked up to the ‘Sateri’ ( Durga) temple near my house and sat on the small platform built under the tree in its precincts, attempting to look inwards, contemplate on life and get some enlightenment if I could reach that stage.

Even though my eyes were closed the ears were open (I should have carried my ear plugs) and I was trying hard to ignore the noise of the passing bikes, trucks, and humans and focus my sight inwards when I heard a female voice close by.

“Namaste uncle”

On opening my eyes I perceived the owner of the voice, a stylish young lady, attired in Levi’s jeans,T shirt and Nike shoes. She would have merged effortlessly into any scene at Cross roads, E square, or Forum but looked totally out of place in front of the ‘Sateri’ temple in Ponda. As I wondered what made this piece of Bollywood lose its way and end up in front of me, she spoke again pointing to the tree across the road.

“Sorry to disturb you uncle. Is that tree a ‘Vatavriksh’?”  (Banyan tree)

I answered in the negative and told her it looked like a ‘Peepal’ tree to me.

“I am supposed to perform ‘pooja’ of a ‘Vatavriksh’ tomorrow morning and I was searching for the tree. Someone directed me to this place. But this is not a ‘Vatavriksh’. Can you please tell me if there is one anywhere around here?"

I had a hunch that I had seen one somewhere close by but could not pin point where it was. I told her so and she seemed disappointed.

“I thought you might know. You look so religious (!). Tomorrow is ‘Vatapoornima’ and I have to worship the tree early in the morning for my husband’s well being. Where do ladies in your family go to perform that ‘pooja’?

I was about to tell her that the lady in our family worships her husband in flesh and blood and does not believe in worshipping trees, but I checked myself.

Though the young lady seemed freshly airlifted from Broadway and was attired in ‘englishtani’ ‘joota’, ‘patloon’ and ‘T shirt’ I could sense a real ‘Hindustaani dil’ under the trimmings - as Rajkapoor very effectively put it in his song decades back- and I did not want to hurt her feelings. I told her to wait a bit and called my wife.

The wife who worships me helped me out.

“A Banyan tree? The big tree you pass by as you turn towards the main road from our street is the Banyan Tree. You would not recognize it of course. You will be lost so much in your thoughts that you may not even recognize your wife if you meet her on the road. By the way what do you want a Banyan tree for? Sit under it and hope for salvation? Forget it and come home. I have been telling you since three days that the rice is over and you have ignored it. You have to go to the market right now and get rice if you want your dinner tonight.”

This I conveyed (location of Banyan tree, not that I have to buy rice urgently ) to the grateful young lady who was extremely pleased to find the tree which ensures her husband’s well being and hurried homewards to comply with the orders and ensure my dinner. 

Monkey Business

Our Guava tree is in its fifth year. For the past two years it has been bearing fruits now and then but not more than two at a time. Once we notice them we keep watching them grow and with a lot of anticipation wait for the right time to pluck them but the fauna that visit our garden, which are better judges of the fruit quality, beat us to them. One morning we find a half eaten fruit hanging on the branch and we hastily pluck the remaining one. We cut it into small pieces (with ceremony) and everyone in the family gets a bit. None of us have got more than one third of a fruit till date. So we were very happy and excited to see our tree bearing lot of fruits this season making the branches sag with their weight. Some of them are almost ripe and are going to be ready for consumption within a week.

It is nearly three months since the last visit of the group of marauding monkeys and they are due any moment now. I think that they plan their visits wisely giving enough time for the plants that they had attacked to grow back and be ready for destruction again. They also fix their route for everyplace on their map and when they decide to visit us they always descend into our compound from our neighbour’s house, which is at a slightly higher level. The leader monkey comes down first, sits on the step on my neighbour’s compound wall which seems to have been built there just for its convenience (I do not find any other reason for that step to be there) and takes a leisurely look around choosing the plants for attack. It also needs some time for stuffing and storing whatever it has found in my neighbour’s garden into its pouch and free its hands for the next attack.

We usually notice them when they are halfway through the destruction but even if we see them early all that we can do is shout helplessly from our balcony and wave a stick at them in a false display of bravery. The leader monkey, having met hundreds like us during its rounds and hence being well versed with human nature knows very well that we can’t reach them from the balcony and that we do not have enough guts to go down and confront them on the ground. So it calmly sits there either ignoring us or grinning / growling at us depending  upon its mood and directs its troop in destruction. 

This time, as you can see, the fruits will be hanging right in front of its face when it assumes its post and I dread to think what would happen if the monkeys arrive now.

We will lose the fruits. That I can bear. What would be difficult to bear will be the effect of betrayal of my wife’s expectations by her husband.  She is very fond of guava fruits and can’t bear to lose the ones which almost seem to have reached her hands. Slip between the cup and the lip or between the tree and the teeth in this case. Naturally, she will expect me to be a man, go fight the monkeys and save her fruits but her man is never man enough for that.

As a result, she will grind her teeth (she has worn out most of her grinders grinding them at me and as her personal dentist, I have the task of restoring them back to shape so that she can continue grinding them at me - look at my fate!)and give me looks which could convert me into a heap of ashes if she had the powers of the sage who figures in the ‘Dharmavyadha’ story. (ref: ‘Dharmavyadha’ 5^th or 6^th standard kannada text. I hope the story continues to be a part of the syllabus) So I am reciting ‘Hanuman Chaaleesa’ every morning hoping that lord Hanuman will keep his troops away from Ponda for another week and I have also bribed him with an extra flower and a semi ripe guava offering this morning.

This monkey business reminds me of a story that I had read somewhere a few years back. (If you are tired of monkeys by now, you are allowed to skip this story, click on ‘like’ button and shut down your computer.) Somewhere in north India there existed a collector or some such high ranking British officer (British raj story, written by the officer himself and he has claimed it to be true) who was very fond and proud of his large garden. It appears a troop of monkeys regularly descended up on this garden and destroyed it completely once every few months. He tried to trap them, shoot them and even poison them but to no avail. The collector’s wife who had similar sentiments as my wife towards the fruits grown in her garden not only kept giving him looks and grinding her teeth at him (though I am sure they were nowhere close to the looks and grindings of my wife) but also chided him saying that he is not fit to call himself the protector of the district if he cannot protect his garden from a troop of stray monkeys.

It seems the collector was a good collector and so, the village wise man (old of course)who heard about his predicament advised him to seek the help of a sage who lived in the nearby mountains who was known to have been able to exercise some power over the monkeys. The collector humbly walked all the way to the hill, climbed up and found the sage in the precincts of an old temple there. He bowed in front of the sage, offered the fruits that he had carried with him, explained his plight and begged for help. The sage had also heard that the collector was a good collector and decided to help him out.

Then, (the collector has written) that the sage made some peculiar clucking noise and within a minute three monkeys appeared in front of them. Two of them sat on a short wall and the third one below on the ground. The sage introduced the ones on the wall as the king and queen monkeys and the third one as the commander of the troop. He then asked the collector to offer them some fruits and request them to spare his garden. Later the sage spoke to the monkeys in some strange language which they seemed to understand and told the collector that he would not have any trouble from the monkeys in future. The collector says that he could not believe himself when the troop of monkeys visited him the next time and just walked away to some farther place along the fence of his garden without stepping in.

I had not believed it too till I started noticing our monkey troop’s time table, adherence to the route and the leadership of the leader monkey. I have half a mind to roam around the hillocks near Ponda ( at the cost of my knees) and see if I can locate the monkey’s abode and by chance find a sage or some such person who may have some control over them. 

PS: Between the time I began this story and reached here, some fruits seemed to be getting yellowish and the tension was mounting. Will we get them or won’t we? So I plucked a few in different stages of ripening hoping that the offering (to my wife, not to lord hanuman) may help soften the disappointment if monkeys get the rest and provide me  with some relief in the form of a less piercing look and a subdued grinding of teeth. 

Selling Education

When I was in school, the schools did not advertise to get students. When they started selling education, they had to.

I started seeing

XYZ School / College  -  Well qualified and Dedicated teaching staff, Regular tests,Well stocked library, Personal attention etc etc.

Then it was

Well ventilated class rooms, Hygienic Canteen facilities and  Stress on all round development.

Then

Air conditioned hostel, internet in Library, Landscaped surroundings and so on and so forth.

Now, this school in Panjim highlights  ‘Jeans and T shirt for uniform’  but only has ‘improvised’ class rooms. (I hope at least the English teacher knows the difference between improved and improvised.)

What I suggest to other schools to beat competition.

Free mobile phone on admission and mobile charging points  on every desk.

Valentine day, Friend ship day, Rose day etc etc officially celebrated - classes off.

And if space permits,

Movie theater on campus.