Helping Hands

A friend of mine came to see me yesterday. He tried to park his car over the covered drain in front of our house but failed to notice that some concrete slabs on the drain were missing. As a result one of his front wheels went into the drain. I am sure that he had got up from the wrong side of his bed in the morning. There is no other reason for him missing the missing slabs! Anyway, when I opened the door, he was standing there looking very anxious and stupid. 

I went out to see the situation. The car was jutting out onto the road at an awkward angle blocking a considerable part of it. One front wheel was hanging helplessly in the open drain and the opposite back wheel was half a foot up in the air. It was an awkward and difficult situation. I know it for sure because I had once put my car in a similar position.  

Now, we had to get the car out. My friend was a stranger to the neighbourhood. And he had come to see me. So, morally it was my duty to help him out. I thought that if I could find half a dozen able bodied men, we may just be able to lift the car up from one end and put the wheel back on the road. Luckily for me there was some construction work going on closeby and there were men working on the site. I went to the supervisor, explained the situation and requested him to lend me his men for a few minutes. He nodded his head, called out to his men and asked them to help me out. 

They came in a group. Two of them got down into the drain, others positioned themselves on the edge, and tried to lift the car. They could lift it a few inches but the collective effort was not enough to lift it up completely and put the wheel back on the road. 

We were wondering what to do next when a food delivery man came there on his two wheeler. He stopped, took a look at the scene, parked his bike on the road and said that he would get the car out. Taking the key from my friend, he got into the driver’s seat, and instructed the men to lift the car up and push it towards the edge of the drain on his signal. He started the car, put it in reverse and signalled. The engine roared, the car was lifted, the wheel turned but nothing more happened. In fact, after the exercise, the wheel had gone a bit deeper in the drain. 

The driver got down, looked around, and without a word walked to the construction site. He came back with a thick wooden plank. He placed it on the edge of the drain, one end of it projecting onto the road and the other end hanging next to the dangling front wheel of the car at an angle. He made two men stand on the part of the plank that was on the road. He got in again and started the engine. The workers lifted the car so that the wheel just came on top of the plank and like magic the wheel moved on the wooden plank and then onto the road. 

The food delivery man got down, returned the key to my friend, kicked his bike to a start and rode away. The workers got out of the drain, straightened their backs, dusted their hands and went back to work. I went to the construction site, thanked the supervisor for his help and came back. My friend had relief written on his face and it had regained some colour. We sat down for a chat and a cup of coffee. 

I wrote all this because I was impressed and intrigued by what I had witnessed. My friend had put the car in the drain and was standing there helplessly. Half a dozen strangers who were not at all connected with or affected by the situation had come forward willingly to help and had spent considerable time and energy without expecting anything in return ! 

The food delivery fellow had no reason to stop and take the initiative to get the car out. He would have probably honked impatiently and cursed my friend if the car was blocking his way even for a few seconds on any other occasion. Now he had calmly and willingly spent twenty minutes trying to take the car - again, with which he was in no way connected -  out of the drain. 

My friend, who would have thought ten times before allowing the fellow to even dust or wash his expensive car, had just handed over the key without bothering to consider whether the fellow was capable of taking the car out of the drain or capable of just driving it in the first place !  

After completing the job the fellow just went away on his errand without even waiting for a word of thanks from us. And so did the group of labourers who offered their muscle power which is their only resource !  All these people worked just to get a stranger out of the difficult situation he was in and they gained nothing in return ! 

I feel that is why we call ourselves social creatures. It is probably natural for us to help another creature when you find it in distress. At other times we may be impatient with each other, intolerant or even antagonistic but at times like this, everything else is forgotten and the inner goodness of individuals surface.  

One of the rare occasions when we get a chance to feel nice about the society we are living in and our co - inhabitants ! 

Have a nice holiday and a happy Independence day everyone !

Aborted landing / Balked landing - a recent experience

We were scheduled to fly from Bengaluru to Goa and were to depart

from terminal 2 of KIA Bengaluru. We were there well in advance,

spent some time looking around the splendor of the new terminal,

experienced whatever the lounge had to offer and boarded the flight.

The pre-departure experience was fine. 

The flight took off from Bengaluru on time. I read for some time and dozed

for about half an hour. After some time, I experienced some turbulence

and realised that we were in the clouds and were on our way down.

Looking out of the window, I saw the mining pits of Sanvordem, the

roof of MRF and Nestle, the Verna industrial estate, the new six lane

highway crossing the river Zuari and then the BITS Goa campus located

close to the airport. 

The captain made an announcement and the flight started the steep descent.

It crossed the Zuari industries and the highway, past the Airport fence and

touched down with a strong bump. It seemed to raise a bit, appeared to

have made a second touch and instead of slowing down, gained speed

again! Even before I could realise what was happening, we were airborne

once more.

I knew there was something wrong and that it was serious. There were

butterflies in my stomach. But when I found that the aircraft was stable

and steadily gaining height, I calmed down and after noticing that it was

banking and had started making a U turn, I felt that things should be OK.

But there is no escaping the fact that all of us had been very close to our

last few seconds on this planet.  I don’t think many of my co-passengers

realised that a disaster had just been averted.  

In retrospect, I feel that the plane touched down with more speed than

usual. Maybe the pilots noticed that they would be short of the runway

and decided to take off, instead of trying to stop and overshooting the

runway. It is also possible that they experienced a sudden gush of cross

wind and decided to take off instead of veering away from the runway.

These are my guesses. I enquired with the cabin crew after landing but

they had just as much information as I did. 

I dont know whether I should thank the Pilots or my fate. But I am glad

that I am back in my home and typing this. I am curious to know what

exactly happened. If I get to know, I will come back with details. Meanwhile,

I felt like sharing this unusual experience and hence, you are reading this.

Bye.

I sent the above write up to a friend, who is an experienced pilot and

got the following 

response. 

Response : As for my view on the experience,

It is a little difficult to be sure about what might have happened without

actually being in the cockpit or speaking to someone who was in the cockpit

at the time. My best guess would be same as your father's first assumption. 

1. They may have come in too high on the final approach and as a result

touched down out of the ideal touchdown zone (roughly the first 25%) on the

the runway. When that happens there may not be enough runway to stop the

aircraft and the aircraft can go off the runway which can be disastrous. In this

situation, it seems like the cockpit crew realised this and aborted the landing

and carried out a Go Around maneuver (a maneuver where the landing is

aborted on final approach or after touchdown and the aircraft climbs to a certain

height and attempts another landing or diverts to another field)

2. They may have come in at the correct height but may have been too fast

and resulted in the same outcome of touchdown towards the mid or second

half of the runway and eventually carried out a go around.

3. Could be a combination of 1. and 2. Resulting in a go around.

I think the crosswind explanation is possible but less likely because Goa is

not one of the airfields where crosswind is a major concern.

What happened here is technically called a balked landing. Where a landing

is rejected very close to the ground or sometimes even after touchdown.

The engines are producing very little power when coming for landing and

close to the ground. From this state for the engines to start producing

maximum power in order to start climbing again it takes a few seconds.

This lag for the engines to go from low power state to max power is due

to design. And it is this lag in the power delivery of the engines is what c

aused the second touchdown. Momentum would have carried the aircraft

in the air after the first touchdown and lag in power delivery caused the

aircraft to sink and cause the second touchdown and as the engines reach

max power the aircraft will have started climbing again.

Ideally this landing should have been aborted at a much earlier stage.

It is extremely unlikely if the aircraft is on the correct height profile and speed

on final approach to end up in this situation. However, they did have the

good sense to do the right thing albeit at the very last stage.

I know my reply is very long and detailed 😂. But I wanted to explain

certain concepts so that he will understand the explanation better.

I hope this helps.

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 !! 

‘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 !

 

A ‘feel good’ incident

It was a simple gesture, not anything great, which seemed very natural

on part of that old lady. 

I have no idea who she is. When I returned from my walk one morning,

two months back, she was picking the Parijata flowers in our front yard.

I objected to her coming inside without seeking permission. She apologised

and left.

The next morning she was standing outside the gate and when she saw me

return from my walk, she asked for my permission to come in and pick the

flowers. I told her that she may come in and take the flowers but close and

latch the gate when she leaves. Since then she has been coming everyday

to take the flowers. 

Today our maid was not well and did not report for work.  I was sweeping

the front yard when the old lady came to take the flowers. She saw me and

said “ಬಿಡಪ್ಪಾ, ನಾನು ಗುಡುಸಿ ಕೊಡ್ತೀನಿ” (leave it, i will sweep for you) stretching her

hand to take the broom from me.    

There was no need for her to do that. Maybe she felt that collecting the

flowers everyday was an obligation and wanted to do something in return.

Whatever, it felt nice and I was touched by the gesture and so, I shared

it with all of you. 

A road trip - decades old - Koppal to Bangalore

Raghunandan: Something to read, if one is so inclined ! 

I worked, rather spent time, in government hospital Koppal, Karnataka for about a year in 1980. I travelled to Bengaluru at least once a month. There was a KSRTC bus which left Koppal at 7 pm everyday, went via Hospet, Hagaribommana haLLi,(I will call it HB haLLi) and Bellary and reached Bangalore the next morning around 7am. Koppal depot buses were mostly junk and they often broke down on the way. 

One memorable day our bus left Koppal at 7pm on the dot and had a puncture at 7.25pm on the dot, before it reached Hospet. The bus had a spare tyre but no jack. The driver stood in the middle of the road trying to flag down oncoming vehicles in the hope of getting a jack on loan - bearing the risk of being run over and losing a limb or life or both - and managed to catch a good samaritan truck driver. The truck driver not only provided a jack but was also considerate enough to direct his headlights towards the work spot for illumination! After changing the tyre, we reached Hospet. 

We gathered more passengers at Hospet and left an hour behind schedule. The bus was somewhere near HB haLLi when the radiator fan belt broke. Of course KSRTC buses do not carry a spare fan belt. The conductor was expected to take a lift in any passing vehicle to Hospet and bring a fan belt back. Now it was past nine and there were not many vehicles on the road barring a bullock cart or a tractor headed towards the next village. 

I was cursing the bus, the KSRTC and myself (for having decided to travel that day) when another bullock cart came along. A bullock cart, of course, is pulled by a bullock and a rope called a ‘KaNNi hagga’ (kannada) is used to secure the animal to the cart. This rope is supposed to be very strong and the cart will not function without the rope. So, the carts usually have a spare rope on them. 

Suddenly our driver had a bright idea. He stopped the cart and requested the cart driver to part with his rope. But the cart driver was reluctant. The bus driver enlisted a pregnant lady, two mothers with infants in their arms and a pair of turbaned old heads who were in the bus to support his request and the emotional blackmail worked ! The cart fellow relented and parted with his rope. Having obtained a flickering torch from one of the passengers, the driver went to work and fashioned a fan belt out of the kaNNi hagga. And it worked too ! The improvised ‘fan belt’ would slip out of place every few kilometers but after our driver replaced it twice, everyone in the front row had learnt the trick and the ‘belt’ could be put back in place in minutes. The rope held and we reached Bellary after midnight. We woke up the night duty mechanics at Bellary KSRTC depot who had made themselves as comfortable as possible on spare seats, tyres and tubes, got the fan belt replaced and continued our journey. 

It was just before Hiriyuru that the headlight conked off. But that was not a big problem. It was only an hour before daylight and we simply parked the bus by the side of the road and prayed to the sun god to rise a bit early. He was probably sound asleep and didn’t hear our prayer. But he did rise at his usual time. That was good enough for us. We thanked him and proceeded towards Tumkur. 

We were about eight kms away from Tumkur when the driver noticed that the engine was getting heated up. There was no water in the radiator. KaNNihagga had served the engine to the best of its abilities but it was not a fan belt. So, the radiator had reacted to the insult that it had suffered earlier and was hot with rage. It needed water. Four decades back, nobody had heard of ‘Bisleri’. It was only ‘Kaaveri’. That was not a time when every passenger had a plastic bottle filled with water, but it was a time when there were agricultural fields by the side of the highway. There were farmers on the fields and they had a house and a well. One obliging farmer allowed the use of his well and also provided a rope and a bucket. Radiator water was replenished and the bus reached Bengaluru, sorry Bangalore without any more trouble just about half a day behind schedule. 

I wrote this as a satirical piece to highlight the delay that was happening to a proposed activity in one of my friend circles. People cited some or the other reason for the delay in carrying out their tasks and this was supposed to poke them. It was received with good humour though it did not make any difference to the task ! Since I received a good reaction from my friends, I thought that it may make a good weekend reading and posted it here.