Dwelling on Donkey’s milk !

The first food that almost every human tastes is mother’s milk.

Some unlucky human kids survive on formulated milk. In due course,

most of us gradually shift to cow’s milk and remain there.

(‘Cow’ here includes buffalo) Some turn vegans and some leave out

milk in later life but these are exceptions.   

There are some, the most famous being Gandhi, I mean the Mahatma,

who deviated and consumed milk of other animals. Goat in Gandhi’s case.

In the deserts I believe people use Camel’s milk and at higher altitudes

Yak’s milk. One of our poems in the primary section had the lines

“ಸವಿದು ಮೆದ್ದರೊ ಯಾರು ಪೂರ್ವದಿ ಹುಲಿಯ ಹಾಲಿನ ಮೇವನು”. It was  a poem

eulogising ancestors of Coorg people. It means “in the olden days

our ancestors drank tiger’s milk”. But I don't think anyone really

drank tiger’s milk. 

Donkey’s milk was in the news during COVID. For ‘boosting the

immune system’. (A term which I have not been able to understand.) 

And later it caught on as a product rich in vitamins, minerals, proteins,

antioxidants and what not ! I understand bottled donkey’s milk is

available online at a fabulous price. $ 160 - 250 per bottle. Google

says that the cost of a litre of donkey’s milk is between Rs 3000 - 5000. 

I haven’t used it nor have I seen anyone use it. But my senses say

that its benefits are questionable. There are so many weird things in

the world. I have seen people massaging a pralysed limb with pigeon

blood and eating the meat of a Monitor Lizard to revive the same.

Drinking Donkey’s milk may not be as bad as that but probably not

much better. (I will have to swallow my words along with Donkey’s

milk if the scientific world tomorrow hails Donkey’s milk as best !) 

This morning I was walking back home after buying my Nandini Milk

( Brand name of milk produced by Karnataka Milk Federation - assumed

to be cow’s milk). From a side street I heard a loud speaker blaring

“ಕತ್ತೆ ಹಾಲು, ಕತ್ತೆ ಹಾಲು, ಮನೆಮುಂದೆ ಕರೀತದೆ ಕತ್ತೆ ಹಾಲು” (Donkey’s milk,

Donkey’s milk, will milk in front of your house, Donkey’s milk)

As I neared the intersection, I saw a fellow leading a donkey on

the end of a rope. He turned onto the road I was on and walked

ahead of me. The loud speaker was tied to the Donkey’s back.  

A little ahead of us was an elderly gentleman standing in the front

yard of a house. As we neared the house, the donkey fellow went

to the old man and enquired if he wanted donkey’s milk? 

The old man replied in jest  “ಹಸು ಹಾಲು ಕುಡಿದೇ ನಾವೆಲ್ಲಾ ಕತ್ತೆಗಳಾಗಿದೀವಿ ರಾಜಾ.

ಇನ್ನು ನೀನು ಕತ್ತೆ ಹಾಲು ಕುಡಿಸಿದ್ರೆ ನಮ್ಗತಿ ಏನು?” - (even after drinking cow’s

milk we have become donkeys, my dear fellow, what if you make us

drink donkey’s milk ?) And as I got closer, he addressed me

“ಆಲ್ವಾ ಸಾರ್, ಏನಂತೀರ” (Isn’t it sir ? what do you say?) 

I endorsed his words wholeheartedly and walked home laughing

within myself, appreciating his wit. 

(Since I did not have my phone on me, I couldn’t get a picture.

So, borrowed a representative picture from the net)

Magazines and My motherIn

 

This turned out longer than expected, as it happens often with me. Also, I started with something and reached un-intended places. They say the writing gets longer when one is not sure of what one wants to write. That is exactly the case. I keep going wherever my mind takes me. Bear with me. 

One of my cousins, who is a resident of the US, was recently on a visit to her home country, yet again. As is her practice whenever she visits India, she bought Jewels, trinkets, clothes, eatables, artefacts and what not - keeping in mind her son, daughter, husband, friends and relatives who are in the US. Her mother in law, who is 90+, didn’t need anything. She had only one requirement - all the available kannada magazines. I had the privilege of fulfilling her requirement - my gift to her. 

Years back, in every street corner, we used to have a shop selling these magazines along with ‘beedi’ & cigarettes, spiced groundnut, banana, mysore pak, coconut burfi, ‘chikki’ and such other items. Magazines were hung on strings tied to the low roof of the shop, a big bunch of bananas hung in a corner on a rope, cigarettes stacked on a side shelf and sweets displayed enticingly in big glass jars. One oil lamp would be burning all day on a shelf outside and strips cut from the empty cigarette packets would be placed in a box next to the lamp - for the benefit of smokers who wanted to light their cigarettes. 

These shops have dwindled in recent years but some of them still exist. While they sell some of the products named above and other packed snacks, only a few of them keep magazines. One such shop exists opposite the jain temple at fourth block Jayanagar, and from there I could procure all the magazines shown above.  

The last time I bought kannada magazines was about seven years ago. Just before my mother died. My mother was a voracious reader and was always in need of new books and magazines. She had only two requirements. Her medicines and books. I usually purchased her medicines once every fifteen days. On the thirteenth day I would get the first reminder “ಔಷಧಿ ಆಗೋಯ್ತಪ್ಪ. ಇನ್ನೆರಡು ದಿನಕ್ಕೆ ಉಳಿದಿದೆ”. (medicines are over, I have just enough for the next two days) If I failed to buy them, there would be another reminder the next morning. 

I bought Kannada books for her whenever I visited Bengaluru and purchased the weekly magazines at Ponda every Tuesday. We had only one shop selling Kannada, Tamil and Malayalam magazines in Ponda - Goa, and he would get them usually on tuesdays. Sometimes they would be sold out before I reached there and sometimes the magazines did not arrive. On such occasions I got them through my son who attended college at Panaji (capital of Goa) or obtained them from friends who visited Margao, a bigger city twenty kilometers away.  But I did manage to get her magazines for her. 

Apart from the above, my mother did not ask for anything. She had given up wearing jewelry and she did not even go out to buy her clothes.  Either my sister or my wife attended to her necessities. She wasn’t interested in going anywhere or getting involved in anything. Her travel was restricted to Pune, Goa and Chennai where her three children lived. Irrespective of where she was, her routine and lifestyle remained the same. Most of the time she sat by the side of a large window looking at the birds playing on the bushes outside. She chanted her ‘stotras’ in the morning, was reading most of the time and dozed now and then. 

Now, with me nearing seventy, whenever I think of my mother, my thoughts invariably turn towards my future life. What would I do when my body no longer listened to me ? How am I going to cope with the coming years? My wish is that I should live my later years like my mother. With detachment and equanimity.  And if I am lucky, die like her. 

My mother’s death, I mean the way it came about, has left a strong imprint on my mind.  She died not because she had to die, but because she willed herself to die. 

In one of my favorite verses from his Mankutimmana kagga, Sri DVG says  

ಒಂದಗುಳು ಹೆಚ್ಚಿರದು, ಒಂದಗುಳು ಕೊರೆಯಿರದು, ತಿಂದು ನಿನ್ನನ್ನಋಣ, ತೀರುತಲೆ ಪಯಣ 

ಒಂದು ಚಣ ಹಿಂದಿರದು, ಕಾದಿರದು ಮುಂದಕುಂ, ಸಂದಲೆಕ್ಕವದೆಲ್ಲ - ಮಂಕುತಿಮ್ಮ 

(Not a grain more, nor a grain less. Eat your share and get going. Not a second more, nor a second less - these are already accounted for ! Predestined.) 

I agree that every death is predestined. But my mother made it look like she was in control of the event and invited it when she wanted ! She fell and fractured her thigh. She was operated on and was fine. But she did not want the long recuperation. She had had enough of this life.  She willed to die and death came to her ! 

I may sound melancholic writing about old age and death but they are facts of life and one can not run away from them.

Jatasya hi dhruvor mrutyu, dhruvam janma mrutasyacha

tasmad apariharyaarthe na twam shochitum arhasi 

“For one who is born - death is a certainty and so is birth for the one who dies. You are not to lament about the inevitable.” -  is the famous quote from Bhagavadgeeta. 

The magazines which I mentioned above, brought up the memories associated with my mother yet again and the other thoughts tagging on with that memory. Memories of the way she lived and the way she died. Her death, in particular. It has been an answer to many of my questions and at the same time a question which has no answer ! 

(If anyone is interested in the details, please go to www.dentaldiaries.blogspot.com and search ‘The last days of my mother”- Sept 4, 2016)

Melukote re visited

Mysore has always been a favourite holiday destination. I love the city

where I have spent most of my childhood holidays. We were there

recently for a day to visit a relative. It was just an overnight halt and

we intended to return to Bengaluru the next morning. 

We started around ten from Mysore. There was no  hurry to return to

Bengaluru.  So, we decided to take a detour and visit Melukote in

Mandya district. Melukote is famous for the thousand years old

Cheluvanarayana Swamy temple.  The idol is said to have been

installed by Sri Ramanujacharya in 1099.  It is probably the head

quarters of Shrivaishnava community (Iyengars) in Karnataka.  

A kilometer away is the temple of Sri YogaNarasimha swamy,

on a hill. The idol here is believed to be  much older.  Installed

by Prahlada, son of Hiranyakashipu ! 

 

Melukote happens to be the birthplace of Late J Jayalalitha,

ex CM of Tamilnadu and Late Sri Pu Ti Na, - Pu Ti Narasimhachar,

well known kannada poet. 

It was an enjoyable detour. I love the interior roads. The traffic is

thin, and the road  passes through an appealing landscape. It is a hilly

terrain. You find hillocks, green fields, small ponds and bigger lakes.

You have the freedom to stop anywhere you fancy, look around, walk

up to a lake or to the top of a hillock and enjoy the scenery. The trouble

with these roads is that they are usually not well maintained and sometimes

they can be a pain to drive. But this route was a pleasant change. The

landscape was beautiful and the road was good! 

CheluvaNarayanaswamy lives up to his name ! ‘Cheluva’ in kannada

means handsome and the idol is really handsome. I liked the small

temple town, especially the old streets around the temple and the

‘Subbanna mess’ from where we could buy ‘Puliyogare’ and

‘Sweet Pongal’ - our packed lunch. We ate our lunch  in a

beautifully shaded patch on our return journey and returned to

Bengaluru in time for tea !

I have posted some pictures above to entice my friends to visit the place. 

It is not Kashmir but it is a pleasant landscape within reach ! I think the

pictures need no caption. It is easy to recognise the rooftops of the new

Melukote town and the surrounding landscape - as seen from the Yoga

Narasimha temple hill.  The recently painted and neat looking house is

the house of Sri Pu Ti Na, which is now a memorial and the other one is

just a random old house on the temple street. The white and red pillared

structure is another old structure from the same street which has seen

better days and you see yours truly, standing in the outer corridor of the

temple. 

Toothache and my washing machine

Recently our washing machine broke down. The events which followed had some similarity with the events that I experience sometimes in my clinic. I wrote it down and posted it here. It turned out to be a bit long. See if you have the patience ! 

Toothache and my washing machine

Just look at the list of gadgets that most of us have at home. And this list is not exhaustive. Starting with this laptop on which I am typing, and generally going by the size of the equipment - refrigerator, air conditioner, dishwasher, washing machine, inverter, microwave oven / OTG, air fryer, vacuum cleaner,  television, water purifier, water heater, food processor / mixer grinder, coffee maker, hair drier, internet reuter, I pad, mobile phone, and assorted voltage stabilizers, chargers, etc etc etc. Incidentally, none of the gadgets mentioned above were present in our house in my childhood ! 

Now, going by Murphy’s law, it is no wonder that we always have some or the other equipment conked at any given time. In my case, it was the turn of our washing machine. That was about six months back. As is my daily practice, I dumped all the used clothes into the machine, poured a spoonful of soap powder, shut the lid and pressed the button. Usually some lights flicker on the control panel and the machine would give a musical sound and start running. But that day, it remained silent. 

I did all the usual stuff to put it back to life. Repeatedly pressed the start button half a dozen times, switched the power button on and off thrice, removed the plug from the mains socket, stared at it and plugged it back, randomly pressed all the buttons on the panel multiple times, slapped the body of the washing machine and kicked it for good measure. But nothing happened. There was only a stoic silence. Then I called the service center. 

I told the lady at the other end about the malady. And she told me my name, address, the model of my machine, date of purchase and the earlier repairs done. I confirmed that I was indeed the person she was referring to and it was my machine which had gone into a coma. She said that a mechanic would get in touch with me. In due course, the technician contacted me and arrived at my door.  

I told him my complaint. He opened the panel on the machine and looked at the interiors. Then he took out his voltmeter or some meter, plugged the ends here and there, checked the reading, removed and put back some minor parts and pressed the start button. Total silence. He pronounced “Sir, your PCB is gone”. He said that he will have to order a spare and that he would come back once he gets the part. It would take two or three days. I accepted his verdict and hoped that he would be back fast. There was a load of soiled clothes in the machine. 

My wife was standing near the machine that evening and contemplating if she should take the clothes out and wash them by hand. And she just pressed the start button once again because she had nothing better to do. The machine sprang to life, sang the usual tune and got into action ! It completed the cycle and rested. We put another load of clothes and it washed them sincerely. Then one more the next day. 

I called the technician and told him that his diagnosis was wrong. There was nothing wrong with the PCB. Told him that it just washed three loads of clothes. It was difficult for him to explain the behaviour of the machine but he stuck to his line. He said that the PCB may exhibit odd behavior sometimes and that it may go into a coma again. He asked me to keep using the machine and call him when the machine shuts down again. 

It did. Two days back. I repeated all the above treatments once again and called the technician. He repeated all his steps once again and pronounced, “Sir your PCB is now really gone”. He said that he would order the part and get back when it is ready. I wasn’t convinced but had no other option. I nodded my head. 

This morning I pressed the start button yet again, just like that, and yes, you guessed it right. The machine is working!  The technician who arrived with the PCB looked foolish when he said “Yes sir, it happens sometimes. It is because of some blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Call me if the machine stops again”. As of now, the machine is running and I am waiting. I am not convinced that the PCB has conked.

Now, let us leave the washing machine standing there and visit my clinic. There was this patient who came with severe toothache. I asked him to open his mouth and immediately spotted the cause of his pain. I just touched the tooth with my instrument and he jumped six inches even while seated on our chair. I told him that his tooth has conked and I will either have to remove the tooth or that he will have to undergo a procedure called the RCT (root canal treatment). He refused both. He said that the tooth was fine till he poked it with a pin to remove some food stuff which was stuck there. The pin was to be blamed. Not the tooth. 

But the pain was severe and he had already done everything he could. He had gargled with salt water, filled the cavity with toothpaste, applied Amrutanjan, bitten on a clove, and had swallowed half a dozen tablets and three pegs of whiskey. All to no effect. And now I was expected to do something sure and fast. I injected a local anesthetic in his jaw and the pain vanished. I told him repeatedly that I have only made his tooth numb and the relief would be temporary. He better get the tooth treated at the earliest. He nodded his head and left. 

And he never returned. 

He was again at my door after a year. Greatly in pain, rubbing his jaw and shivering at the thought of biting anything. I told him everything that I had told him before. He again expressed his doubts about my verdict, insisted that I give him the miracle injection, got himself injected and was relieved. I once again stressed that he either get the tooth treated or removed. Unconvinced with my verdict, he nodded his head and left. And he hasn’t come back. Obviously he has no pain and no faith in my judgment. 

Now, that is typical of a toothache. It can be very unpredictable sometimes. It usually keeps bothering till the tooth is treated properly and the situation usually gets worse if not treated. But there are instances where there has been no trouble whatsoever for months or even years once the intense pain is relieved. In such cases I, the dentist, who insists upon  “immediate treatment - either removal or RCT” have no explanation and have to look foolish - Like the technician who came to repair my washing machine !!  

Temples of knowledge ! - The “City Central Library

The name ‘City Central Library’ - ‘ನಗರ ಕೇಂದ್ರ ಗ್ರಂಥಾಲಯ’ in Kannada - always strikes a chord in me. The day before yesterday I saw the board at the BDA commercial complex at Banashankari and went inside. There were about a dozen people reading something or the other. The shelves contained lots of government publications, many literary works stocked out of compulsion, plenty of dog eared old books but also quite a few books which I wanted to read ! I made enquiries regarding obtaining a membership and was asked to get a copy of the ADHAR card and few copies of my Photographs. 

I went there yesterday morning carrying the required stuff and was asked to write my name, address and phone number on a form. I did that, paid a refundable deposit of Rs 200, and came out carrying four books which I had spotted the previous evening ! The official who was in charge was extremely cordial and the entire process took about 15 minutes. I was very pleasantly surprised at the ease with which I could obtain a membership and my liking of CCLs went up by a notch ! 

  

The department of libraries introduced ‘City Central library’ to Bengaluru around 1970. The first library was at KH road (Double Road), near my house and my mother was one of the first few members. All my family members have been very enthusiastic users of the library. My father was a permanent fixture there on Sundays and we have seen him spend the entire day there, forgetting food and drink! Before the City Central Library came into existence, he was a weekly visitor to the Public Library in Cubbon park, Bengaluru. 

During one of my browsing sessions through the shelves of the library, I found a copy of the kannada translation of “The Farmer boy” by Laura Ingalls Wilder. That was a time when I was a daily visitor to the library. A period of six months after my 12th standard and before the start of our course in Dental College. I stood in the narrow passage between the shelves engrossed in the book and later shifted to a more comfortable position in the reference section. I remember taking the book in my hand around 10am in the morning and I came out around half past one, after finishing the book !  I became an immediate fan of the author and I might have read all her books at least half a dozen times. 

During the next week, I borrowed one book each day - Little house in the big woods, Little house on the Prairie, On the shores of Silver lake - to name a few,  and finished the series in a week. Subsequently my brother and sister also turned out to be Laura fans and between us we have all her books - both the original english editions and kannada translations - in our possession. It is through her books that I first heard the names Wisconsin, Minnesota, Tennessee, Prairies, Great lakes etc etc. These books are in circulation between us even today !

Laura Ingalls wrote the very popular ‘little house series’ (A popular TV serial too) based on her family’s travel westwards during the 1800s in the US. Laura’s family was one of the pioneer agriculturists who moved continuously looking for better pastures during the eighteenth century. With some curiosity, I looked for her books in the Public Library at Canton, MI, USA and was disappointed when I did not find even one of them! I enquired with the librarian and was told to look in the children’s section. 

So, one senior citizen went to the children’s section at the Canton City Library, was very glad to find all the books of one of his favourite authors and happier to find one which he had not read before !  I later visited city libraries in Dearborn, Plymouth, Novi, Northville, Wayne and so on and loved the libraries in the US. I was extremely impressed by the unhindered access to all facilities available in the libraries and the comfortable seating. I loved the  large print editions of the popular books for senior citizens. These library visits have been a high point in my trip to the US. 

Now, armed with my membership card of the CCL Bengaluru I plan to check all libraries around (there are three CCl branches in a radius of 2 kms from my house - they now have about 30 central libraries and 550 branches in the state) and hope to be able to access the digital library too. To start with, the three books shown above - DVG’s ‘Smriti ChitragaLu’, and a book on Pu Ti Na, will keep me busy for the next two weeks or more !  

A short dream and a cherished friendship

This morning my brother called me and asked “have you heard from GR recently ?”  I said “no, it has been nearly a year since I received his mail. Why did you ask ?”. He said that he was trying to contact GR. E-mails sent to his known mail Ids had not received any response and there was no phone number to call. Since my brother was expected to be in the US in November, He was trying to get in touch with GR, who lives in Colorado, in the hope of meeting him. 

Now, a little bit about this GR. He is my childhood friend. Three years older than me. When I first met him I was in second standard and he was in fifth. We walked to school together everyday. A distance of about three kilometers. And I am sure this is what put a firm foundation for our friendship. He completed his Phd in Artificial Intelligence and left for the US for a postdoctoral. I completed my BDS and left for Goa around the same time. And I can confidently say that there has not been a single day in the intervening twenty years, but for the time he was in IIT Madras, that we have not met !  And whenever we met, ‘time stood still’ as the saying goes. We never met for a few minutes, at least an hour always !

He was ‘my friend’ but equally friendly with my brother and sister. He is known to everyone who knew me in my childhood. I do not intend to bore all my friends by writing about our friendship which I cherish. I am sure all of us have one or two such relations in life which transcend all known relations !

As my usual practice is these days, I lied down for a short nap after lunch. And I dreamt. I had parked my scooter by the side of the road and was checking something around its wheel. I felt someone come and stand next to me and on lifting my head saw GR standing there. We did not speak. I got up, took the scooter off the stand and started. He sat on the pillion. After a very short while, he said “there are police ahead”. Indeed there were police ahead and checking. I replied “don't bother. We have everything”. Then he said “No helmet!” I stopped abruptly turned the scooter around, parked it by the road side and turned towards GR to say “We will have to go and get helmets”, and I woke up. 

I last met GR during his short visit to India six years back. The earlier meeting was in 2010 when I had visited the US. He received me in Denver and I stayed with him for two days. He had recently built his house and when I stepped in he said “ ನೀನು ನನ್ನ ಮನೇಗೆ ಬಂದ್ಯಲ್ಲೋ ! ನಾನು ಮನೆ ಕಟ್ಟಿದ್ದಕ್ಕೂ ಸಾರ್ಥಕವಾಯ್ತು ಬಿಡು !” ( Oh, you did come to my house ! It is certainly worth building it ) I was so touched with that exclamation, that I have tears in my eyes even as I type this !

How I wish that I meet him out of the blue sometime again, just like the way I met him in my dream this afternoon. 

National High School - Revisited

 National High School - Revisited 

I happened to be in the vicinity of National High School this morning and went into the building on an impulse. I have moved around the building hundreds of times even after I left Bengaluru but never went in even once. Today’s was a revisit after nearly half a century. It was a nostalgic visit. As I stood in the quadrangle of the NHS, I could almost hear HSM (our head master) clearing his throat prior to his customary post prayer sermon from the stage ! 

It is unfortunate that the beautiful edifice with the clock tower is blocked by a very run of the mill new building but most of the interiors are as they were. The space at the back of the quadrangle where we used to eat our afternoon lunch is covered and utilised for some purpose, the library has come to the ground floor, the audio visual room is converted into a class room, and new toilet blocks are built. One of the class rooms overlooking the college auditorium is in a dilapidated condition and shut down. The cycle park has become an additional building and the school is now Co-ed making me wish I was born decades later !! 

The college section has not changed much except for an entrance opening onto the Pampa MahaKavi road at the place where the Principal’s office used to be and there are additional floors built. An attempt has been made to make the auditorium walls soundproof and they now look as if cardboard has been pasted onto the walls.

I was walking around the school premises aimlessly, lost in memories when a lady who was sweeping the corridor addressed me “ಓಲ್ಡ್ ಸ್ಟೂಡೆಂಟಾ ಸಾರ್?”.(are you an old student?) I nodded my head. “ಚನ್ನಾಗಿ ನೋಡ್ಕೊಂಡ್ ಹೋಗಿ ನಿಮ್ ಸ್ಕೂಲ್ನ”, ( Take a good look at your old school) she continued with her work and I came out of my school. I am sure that she has seen many visitors like me !

I took some pictures and they are here. The ones with a dash of colour are the college open air stage, auditorium and new opening. The bright classroom at the end of the corridor (seen in one of the pictures) was our 8th E section. I will end with an anecdote connected with the room.  

It was 1969 in the era of running commentaries of test matches. India was playing against Australia at Kanpur and it was the test debut of G R Vishwanath, a boy from Basavanagudi where our school was located. He was from a very humble background and a student of Fort high school which is about a kilometer from NHS. There might have been a few from our school who knew him personally. Even though most of the minds that morning were in Kanpur, we had no access to commentary and only had to listen to the description of the coast of South America from our geography teacher SN. Half the class was half dozing. 

Suddenly and unusually, the intercom speaker which had been fitted in every classroom sprang to life and crackled. Our attention was drawn to the speaker and our headmaster was speaking. He informed us that GRV was batting and has reached the nineties and said that it was a wonderful performance. He requested the teachers to suspend the teaching activity and said that the running commentary would be brought to all classrooms through the intercom till GRV completed his century ! 

And that, GRV did with a flourishing square cut to the boundary, which later came to be known as his trademark stroke. The school premises erupted in a joyous applause and the moment remained etched in my mind forever.