Wednesday, July 12, 2023

Cigarette packets and Purandara Dasaru !




There used to be times in my childhood when we would be crazy about

collecting marbles. We would manage to collect a big box full of many

varieties, including marble sized ball bearings which were actually worth

their weight in gold! But this craze would fade after sometime and we would

embark upon collecting ‘matches’. (labels of match boxes). Every shop

around our school would have a chart hanging in front of the shop on which

would be pinned packets containing ten labels each. Each packet would be

10 paisa. But the charm was not in buying. It was in winning them by

playing games designed for the purpose, exchanging with friends, skillfully

bartering and so on.That would last a year or so and then there would be

another craze. 


One of our madness was collecting empty packets of cigarettes. We used to

keep a keen eye on the ground while walking to school and back and also any

other time we were on the road. We would dash in here and there, even to

the middle of the road - ignoring traffic - to pick up empty cigarette packets

discarded by smokers. (It was the time of few Vespas and Lambrettas and

even fewer Ambassadors and Fiats on the roads and hence I am still sitting

here, typing this, my life and limbs intact) During free time we would visit

all the nearby kiosks selling pan and cigarettes and eagerly collect empty

packets scattered on the ground around them. A boy who lived in a family

full of smokers was considered luckiest ! 


But not all cigarette packets were equal. Charminar, Camel, Passing show,

were almost dirt. Scissors and Berkley were somewhat more valuable.

London Navy Cut came next. One would have to shell out ten Charminar

for a London Navy Cut but would get a Scissor for five (Only beginners went

for these exchanges). Wills was a little more valuable and so was Four

square. Gold flakes was among the top few Indian brands. 

But If you found a Marlboro or Dunhill or Benson and hedges on the ground,

it was a gold mine ! Those packets would be very carefully stored in the safest

of places for which one’s own brother would have no access ! 


There were many games to be played using these packets and you won or

lost depending upon your luck and skill. But the collection invariably grew in

size and in due course touched a thousand or more. They would be loaded

in all empty boxes, bags and nooks and corners of the house causing irritation

to the senior members of the family and evoked severe admonitions. They

would threaten us that the entire lot would be thrown in the fire (which

was used to heat the bath water) but the threat was never converted

into action. 


Suddenly a day would dawn when we would have had enough of this craze.

A sudden detachment from the activity and possession. Few friends would

casually join together and decide to do away with the assiduously collected

and highly treasured stacks of cigarette packets. We would empty all the

secret places, bring the entire collection and dump it in a vacant site in the

neighbourhood. We would sit quietly looking at the huge mound of cigarette

packets and then one of us would go and get a match box. He would look at

all others for confirmation and after receiving a go ahead, indicated by a

slight nod of heads, would light the match and nonchalantly set fire to the lot.

Flames would leap up in seconds and in a minute or two the entire lot would

turn into ashes. We would sit silently for a few more minutes solemnly

watching the last of the packets turn into ash and return to our homes silent

but without any feeling of loss or sadness. 


We would have fought tooth and nail the previous day for the possession of

that valuable stuff but the next day it would feel worthless and we would just

burn it down and return. Total detachment ! ‘Vairagya’. 


I was reminded of this when I was listening to a composition of

Sri Purandara dasa. It goes “ಆಡುವ ಮಕ್ಕಳು ಮನೆಯ ಕಟ್ಟಿದರು, ಆಟ ಸಾಕೆಂದು ಮುರಿದೋಡಿದರು.

ಹೀಗಿರಬೇಕು ಸಂಸಾರ”. - Build your life like a child building a house for play -

and getaway like the child breaking the house after the play ! (The song is sung

beautifully by Sri Upendra Bhat and is available on the net.)


Children built a home for their play 

They just broke it in the end and ran away 

People came together on the market day 

They packed up in the evening and went their way

Traveller entered the guest house for a night’s stay

He woke up in the morning and walked away   


And you better live your life this way !! 


Saturday, July 1, 2023

‘Beating hearts’ in the ‘Concrete jungle’



Bengaluru, no doubt is a concrete jungle and it seems that every

inhabitant is in constant competition with others for everything.

Individuals appear to be self centered, impatient, arrogant and

indifferent towards another. But during my roaming in the jungle

there are instances when I find that there are many good hearts

beating over there, and they do care for others. 


It is seen in the small gestures like a teenager offering me a seat in the

metro, some lady flicking a bee - attracted by the flowers - off another

unknown lady’s hair in the market, someone offering a hand to a disabled

man on the escalator, so on and so forth. For me, it is a reassuring sign

which confirms that humanity still persists !


So, I keep my eyes and ears open. I invariably catch a scene or a small bit

of a conversation which touches me and I narrate it to whoever is ready

to listen. 


I was on a city bus yesterday. The bus was full and I could only get a standing

space. When the bus was about to leave, a lady entered with an old man.

I mean a man older than me. He was almost tottering and hence she

requested an occupant of a seat next to the door, to vacate the seat and

allow the old man to sit. The fellow did not respond.  Then the conductor,

who was standing nearby, asked the fellow


“ತಮ್ಮಾ, ಅಜ್ಜಾವ್ರಿಗೆ ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಸೀಟು ಕೊಡಪ್ಪಾ”  (Brother, please vacate your seat for

the old man)  

The man said “ಆಗಲ್ಲರೀ, ನಾನು ದೂರ ಹೋಗ್ಬೇಕು” (I can’t, I have a long

way to go). 


The conductor’s spontaneous sermon was worth listening for its language,

content and delivery !


“ಏನಪ್ಪಾ, ದೊಡ್ಡೋರಿಗೆ ಒಂದು ಸೀಟ್ ಬಿಟ್ಕೊಡೋಕ್ಕಾಗಲ್ವಾ ನಿಂಗೆ ? ಅವರೇನು ದುಡ್ದು ಕೇಳಿದ್ರಾ,

ಕಾಸು ಕೇಳಿದ್ರಾ ? ಏನೋ ಪಾಪ, ವಯಸ್ಸಾದೋರಿಗೆ ಸೀಟ್ ಕೊಡು ಅಂದ್ರು. ಬಿಡಲ್ಲಾ ಅಂತೀಯಲ್ಲಾ ?

ಏನು ಒತ್ಕೊಂಡ್ ಓಗ್ತೀಯಾ ನಿನ್ ಸೀಟ್ನ ? ದೂರ ಹೋಗ್ತಾನಂತೆ. ಎಲ್ಲೀಗಯ್ಯ ಹೋಗ್ತೀಯ ದೂರ ?

ಪಾಕಿಸ್ತಾನಕ್ಕಾ, ಚೀನಾಕ್ಕಾ ? ಈ ಬಸ್ಸು ಓಗೋದು ಕೆಂಗೇರಿ ತನಕ ಅಷ್ಟೇ. ಏನೋ ಇಷ್ಟು ಪಾಠ ಓದಿ

ಪರ್ಸೆಂಟೇಜ್ ತೊಗೊಂಡ್ರೆ ಆಗೋಯ್ತಾ ? ಮುಖ್ಯ, ಮಾನ ಮರ್ಯಾದೆ ಕಲೀಬೇಕು. ದೊಡ್ಡೋರು

ಅಂದ್ರೆ ಗೌರವ ಇರ್ಬೇಕು. ತಿಳ್ಕೊ.”  

(what I say, can’t you offer your seat to an elderly gentleman? Are they

asking you to give them your money? Only a seat for the old man and you

refuse.  Are you going to carry your seat with you ? Going far I believe!,

how far are you going? pakistan? China ? This bus is only going till Kengeri.

Remember that. It is not enough if you just read some lessons and get

some percentage of marks. One should learn manners, and respect

towards the elderly” -)  The speech should actually have been heard in

original,in Kannada. This narration/translation doesn’t do complete justice

but gives an idea about the sentiment expressed.   


By then another gentleman vacated the seat for the old man, and the

issue was settled. It was nearing my destination and I got down thinking

about and praising the conductor’s reaction in my mind. It felt nice to

know that there are people who care about these things. 

Have a nice holiday !