CHANGE IN THE AIR

Travel has never been my forte. Journeys within the city are more tedious with the complex jams, fraying tempers and most of all the effect on one's state of body and mind. Society developed by man has cast an unfair chore on mankind of being in gainful employment measured by status, money and such man made parameters that one is constrained to undertake this task on a daily basis. The other animals in the animal kingdom may predominantly be occupied in nesting activity, hunting food, storing food for a rainy day and attending to there beauty sleep. Some species are more gifted in as much as having the luxury of a period of hibernation when the only activity indulged in is that of sleeping.

Travel sometimes is made pleasant by the mode of transport by tuning in to soft music. The melody in the tunes take away the pain of travel to a great extent. The advent of FM radios have made this experience all the more delightful. The talent of radio jockeys in keeping the listeners hooked to the music they host often made me wonder about the way things would be organised for them to hold the listeners attention. On one such occasion as I remarked about the versatility of these jockeys , a lady colleague of mine spoke at length about the desire of her daughter to be in this field and the reservations expressed by her husband who was also a colleague of mine. The notes exchanged on a couple of occasions made me venture to the father figure that I would love to be in the profession but for the voice of the "nightingale" bestowed on to me at the time of manufacture. After a hearty laugh, and a few days later, I came to know that he had reluctantly allowed his daughter to be in the profession of her choice.

The knowledge exhibited by me prevented me from enquiring about the niceties of the profession for fear that the cat would be out of the bag. Years later, I happened to have an occasion to befriend another radio jockey. Our friendship flowered on blow hot blow cold basis for sometime and then the great day came when I was invited to be in the studio when the show was presented. I was on time for the slot and sat through the show like a high school student while being a child at heart discovering the simple ways by which the show was made great. The skill in presenting the programme was awesome and I was spell bound. The fact that in a bare room with a microphone and a display panel, the anchor being able to bring out so many emotions which enthral the listener was beyond belief. If this could be the state of art studios of today, one wonders how the father figure of anchors on radio shows, Ameen Sayani would have brought out that element in the irreplaceable Geetmala. The anchor of the show did notice a change in my attitude but was not able to place the reason. I left it unresolved but the exhilarating experience enriched me and made me look at new avenues for a change.

COUGH AND I - A RELATIONSHIP STORY

It is an oft asked question " Why is hot faster than cold?" The answer comes with a tickle " Since one can catch cold". In my case though I catch cold, it is not the best of my friends. It brings its ally in the form of cough which is left behind as a legacy by the cold which disappears without much ado. Friends and relatives pour out their suggestions for separating us. Turmeric roasted lightly on a tava, Turmeric in milk, a mixture of pepper, betel leaves and other leaves which is known as the ghas boos khashaya in our household, gargling in salt water, salt water bath, the list would seem endless. The recent bout of cough is no different with every soul around me turning in with a helpful counsel.

It was at this stage, I happened to view a programme which eulogised Surdaas for his ability to adapt into every role from Yashodha to Radha to enjoy the divinity of Lord Krishna. The imagination a la Anu Malik made me look at my present battle in a literary light.

The first role of cough was undoubtedly given to the mother. Caring and concerned, she refuses to budge even when told that her vatsalya was suffocating a la the ad in which the parents bid farewell to their adult son on a train journey more so when the co-passenger is a female. Apparently, the cough too did not want to leave its dear son in trouble and tried everything to stay by the son in his hour of need. The son was as usual not understanding and disrespectful in trying to evict her from his system.

The next role for the cough was that of a friend. The adage, a friend in need is a friend indeed haunted the cough from leaving its dear friend in dire straits. Even a Damocles sword is nothing compared to the sacrifices of the cough. The cough undergoes all the trauma of its own dear friend attempting to see its end but remains faithful without any ill feeling.

The third role is that of a lover. The saga of viraha vedane is told with aplomb on its every return after an eviction. Any mention of the time spent angers her into sulking with whooping bouts of cough. Any talk of separation leads her into one of those sob melodies such as kabhi alvida na kehna which makes one hit the cough syrup bottle a la Devdas. The real tug of war starts when she upstages me into proposing a everlasting marriage. Oh no!!! bouts of cough itself is unbearable but a life long one would not be an idea to relish or cherish. How does one tell this to the cough? The lack of poetic abilities to call a spade one without hurting the sentiments of the other is not the best available asset. Another brief adieu is in the offing but how long would this gap last? Only time can tell while the cough smiles and says "Sayanora" with a promise " I will be back". It is said that hell hath no fury than lady scorned and who could invite the wrath of one sitting so beningly in one's throat and aggravating the situation. This leads to a situation of placation with sugary syrups with a dash of alcohol to make things easier.

The next in the thought flow is that of the cough assuming the role of a visiting child. Children normally take some warm up time and as a gracious host one has to try to please the child so that the wards can have a peaceful time. As the time for leaving nears, the child warms up to the place and at the time of departure prefers to stay with the host. Bidding adieu to the child in a civilised mannerin itself would be a task worthy for every aspirant for diplomatic services. Now the child in question being the cough which has endeared itself to my throat does not show signs of retreat for me to feign welcome next time.

Who could ever say only Surdaas could do it? He only visualised while I have experienced it in this strange relationship with cough.

CHILD IS FATHER OF MAN

A day out and home alone have been subject matter of movies. But it would be a matter of curiosity if one were to encounter a kid no more than a couple of feet from its toes wandering around an alien land without fear or curiosity. As is evident from the Krishna Leela stories some children are endowed with this ability. Across our house is an apartment block and is guarded by a Nepali Gurkha. After coming to terms with the culture and cuisine of this land, he chose to take a break and brought home his wife and young daughter. This little one was full of energy and did not comprehend any language other than her native tongue. All of two feet she strutted around with the air of a princess or more of an empress. She regally walked into any home in the locality, gestured for attention and with a smile on her face could get anything which failed her father's reach. Within days of her arrival she made her mark as the female Krishna of this Gokula. Much to the discomfiture of her parents she chose a radius of a kilometre as her fortress. Vehicles passing had to give way for this little one. Elders rebuked youth who refused to oblige her. The lady made a mark in no uncertain terms. She also established Din ilahi by making no difference on caste, creed, colour, religion, gender or race. The more one sees her elegance, one is tempted to put her in front of the royal blue blood of the Windsor Castle and watch them kneel to her opulent elegance. Krishnaa of Mahabharatha would also envy her elegance and the day is not far off to trumpet her arrival on the stage of the world.

No wonder the texts call the child as the father of man.