A TIP TO INSURE SERVICE???

TIPS is an acronym for To Insure Prompt Service. This has been extended to every sphere of life from the hotel industry. The nomenclature differs from TIPS to gifts, mementos or bribes. The intention is claimed to be noble by both the giver and the recipient. A debate on the Mahatma V Gandhi made me deliberate on this subject. There would be no dispute in the fact that though the waiters at a hotel may expect a tip at the end of their service, at least I for one have not encountered persons who would insist on a tip either at the end of the service or place a tag even before the service is rendered. Imagine walking into a restaurant where the waiter places a minimum tip card alongwith the menu card and would acknowledge your presence only if the tip is placed. Sacrilege is the term that comes to my mind and eventually there would be a rebellion from the customers.

Move over to a corporate office. The TIP assumes the character of gifts and mementoes which ensure and insure the bagging of a contract or the retention. The cash changing hands could be at best termed as kick backs and nothing more. Its all fair in the business realm, I am given to understand. Percentages play a great role and the arithmetical accuracy in such matters would put a Shakuntala Devi to shame.The absence of such kickbacks would only fetch the person a cold shoulder or vague responses. The expectation is made clear though few are the souls who would bare the greed for the tip. Corporate ethics and etiquette demand that the gestures are acknowledged but the expectation is couched in an immaculate manner which boasts of high western standards.

Enter a Government office. The TIP is more or less mandatory in many spheres.The demands are brazen. The term of bribe is bandied around. Most of these transactions are held under a board which lists all the vigilance departments to be contacted. The bribe is a total sell out where the tip is first negotiated before the service is rendered by the higher echelons while the lower ones play the mixture of the waiter and the corporate geek. The only amusing difference being that it is a punishable offence, a subject matter of great debates and is the most open secret of this sector.

All these recipients and givers would have encountered one noble species but the most denigrated one - the beggar. This species acknowledges that he has no other profession and would accept the alms given. The more enterprising of the lot also call upon the giver to pay up a minimum sum. They are a butt of several jokes. They agree that they do not give anything to the giver except the right of the way. A saint like Kabir das has in one of his couplets gone to the extent of saying that it would be better to embrace death rather than to beg.

Speaking of beggars, i had an occasion to travel with a friend of mine who has a wonderful physique in an autorickshaw. At the end of the journey, the driver sought an extra sum over the meter. My friend came up with a quick repartee asking him what would he call a person who asks for things which are not rightfully his. Even as the driver was stumbling at the query, my friend answered only beggars do so and counselled the driver not to behave like one.

Pray what is the difference of all these souls. While the beggar chose begging as his profession, the others needed a job security and a designation to beg. While the beggar requeste and pleads thereby subjecting his ego to humiliation, the others seek it as a matter of right. The giver would also reject the plea of the beggar but would not do so to the other categories. Are these people who are in gainful employment seeking favours and alms not worse than beggars? Why do we coin such wonderful terms as kick backs, bribes, TIPS etc for these worthless denizens? Why do we not term them simply to be worse than beggars? May be a rebuke that they are beggars may bring some moral turpitude to these denizens and deter them from this unholy activity. Do away with all these so called vigilance panels which are also a part of the corrupt system pretending to be holier than thou. Let us launch an OPERATION BEGGAR and term everyone seeking such alms as beggars. Imagine a minister or a government servant or a CEO being called a beggar. Let us drive this unto them and ask them to do their bit without seeking alms.

As for the givers, there are scores of orphans who need to be adopted, educated and the poor who need to be sheltered. Instead of crying hoarse over the Swiss banks being stashed with Indian money let us launch ourselves to the task. Gandhi's ashes are still being in the process of being immersed in the waters after 62 years. Can his ashes urn not inspire the people around to act in an innovative manner to curb unethical practices? Let us launch this operation without much ado and hope that by the turn of the year we see a more responsible society.

If you find this post inspiring enough pass on to your friends the contents. Your comments are most welcome.

BEHOLDER'S SUPREMACY

In an earlier blog I had introduced you to the eternally hosptiable Shivu's family. The year 1991 saw me befriend his daughter who was yet to turn one. She would eagerly look forward for my visit to her place. I would invariably spend an hour with her and she must be the only one who could be holding the envious record of making me visit a temple everyday. She was fond of the Mahadeva temple in the campus nearby and I would carry her along to the temple and spend sometime at the park there. The little words she mouthed had so much of meaning for her but made me understand that no language is as complete as the one of love and affection. The gestures, the intonations and the clatter of syllables emanating from the little mouth would make an interesting lesson for decoders. From the Mahadeva temple she would make me visit another temple close by and take me around in the pradakshina mode. Little Ranjitha whom I used to call as Chinnu was the veritable Minu for me. I attempted learning her language and her parents would be amused at the fact that I could keep her entertained for long periods of time. On one occasion I was taking a break from my work and was leaving for Bangalore. I visisted Chinnu to bid goodbye and she winced. I asked her in jest whether she would join me. Lo and behold!!! the little one picked a small basket and dumped a few clothes and bid a goodbye to her parents. It took a herculean effort to convince her to stay back. I returned with a huge load of memories. On my return I made it a point to visit her and pacify her. Her birthday was celebrated in great style and balloons became her favourite past time. At the end of my stint at Belgaum, I was happy to return to my home but was filled with remorse that Chinnu would be left behind. Years rolled by and the young one grew into a lass and slowly distanced herself. I became Uncle for her and she merely exchanged pleasantries when I called her father up. Cabuliwallah became a masterpiece for me since every emotion on these pages were felt by me. I eulogised Tagore but my friends felt I was being kiddish. Kids thereafter have held a special place in my heart. Over the years I have met many persons far younger to me and some find me amusing while others do not understand as to why I vibe with them. Natural instincts are best left unexplored and unexplained. The smile on a child's face is as good as a sunny day.

I was walking past a traffic signal when I noticed a young woman dragging a child along and could not stop myself from reprimanding her. I was amazed at the inhumanity displayed. Ruminating over the incident I found that my behaviour was no less odd since there were a good many people walking past the woman and the child without as much as raising an eyebrow. True the world is full of diversities. I recalled the famed adage that while all think that the other is a mad man, the mad man in the mad house wonders at the inanities of the world around. Is there anything called normal or abnormal? Is anything right or wrong? Beauty, Keats said, lies in the eyes of the beholder. May I add that the rights or wrongs, normalcy or abnormalities, sanity and inanities all too lie in the eyes of the beholder.

MINUTES TOGETHER

Primary and middle school education was at a nearby school. Nearby means a walk of about 3 kms with a railway track thrown in between. Middle school was considered safe enough to allow us to move to and from school in groups. A young chap who was about six months younger to me was forced to study as my junior. Strange are the ways of the academicians who find persons born beyond a particular month mostly, August or September to wait one more year to enter the portals of a school. This young chap would walk about a km and a half to reach our residence and then we would move along together in a fashion which the present BPO vehicles move to pick co-students to ensure that there was an adequately huge group to block the whole road. Cycles were ruled out in those days since it was costly and considered more luxurious than a comfort.

The young chap was a good artiste and an entertainer par excellence. He could carry himself out in diverse roles such as Gandhi to a old woman a la Kamal Hassan in Dashavatara. His fancy dress outfits bowled over all judges and spectators alike. The first prize in these competitions appeared to have a bias towards him and would invariably sail towards him with ease. In retrospect, the guy had tremendous courage to don such outfits and also cock a snook at anyone who dared to even attempt a jeer at him.

He grew up into a handsome man with great abilities of the gift of the gab as well as histionics. He made a mark in the field of marketing and also in acting and had also dabbled on the administrative side by holding certain posts in a company. His sons too have inherited these genes and provide wholesome entertainment.

Friendship however is queer and the fun one has in the follies of one another carry greater treasure value than any of the feats or achievements. For example, I remember that I used to have a hell of a time to spell the word "together". It would be amusing for teachers, parents and friends that I could get the spelling of any other word in a shorter span rather than spell the word "together". Probably, this was an indication of my highly reticent and introvert behaviour. Similarly, this young guy would also have the persistent trouble in pronouncing the simple word "minute". He would invariably intervene in a conversation saying "One Nimit". But the greatest thing that came through was when he came down with his then "would be" to our place, it was such a surprise that he could just tell her how it was with us that he would say one nimit and recounted every minute(pun intended) detail of our association. There was pride in every folly and foible. Credit is due to the lady too who virtually lapped up every word. His was a novel way of engagement too. He conducted a entertainment programme for which he sold tickets and raised the fund from well wishers for the affair. The programme was a get together of all family and friends. The enterprise won him laurels and the wife he loved, loves and will continue to love.

If any one of you cannot believe this please do say " One nimit" and go through the blog again. You will have to see, hear and believe.

THE BIG "B" DEBATE

The media went to town with the words BIG NEWS. A former Prime Minister had used the "B" word. It was against the present Chief Minister. Reams of newsprint was spent on this while TV channels sermonised. Every bloke to whom the microphone was put to said that it was most derogatory, impolite, unparliamentary. Some said that the levels to which politics could stoop to itself was now beyond imagination. I too felt sad that things had come to this pass but...? No buts. Unequivocal criticism and condemnation is the only path to salvation I was counselled. My protestations were drowned in the din and my refuge remains in this blog and hence this piece.

The incident took me back to my childhood days. In a day I must have heard at least a dozen times persons referring to another as " A widow" or " A child of a widow" which was nothing but a descriptive expansion of the infamous "B" word. Even to this day it is a much in vogue. Similarly, the conductors in the buses would pull up the school children by addressing them in this manner. I had therefore grown more or less immune to this word by the time I reached high school little knowing the meaning. It was at best known to be a method of scolding someone which was not out of place in the little planet we inhabited.

Reaching high school meant we were grown up boys and sophistication was the order of the day. Our school was famed for ending sentences with the "ra" "da" as a machismo replacement to the feminine "yeah". Addressing your fellow mates by the "B" word was very much in vogue. I gradually picked up the habit of addressing my friends thus. After all peer pressure and pleasure was reigning supreme. The touch of class had to be exhibited. On one occasion, I was walking down the road alongwith a schoolmate who was a year senior to me. We were family friends. As we ambled along, the need to catch his attention invoked the B word. Much to my surprise he asked me whether I knew the meaning of the word. I confessed to him that let alone the meaning I was not even aware as to the spelling. I let it be known with an air of diffidence that boys needed to be boys. My senior merely asked me note the spelling of the word and check it out in the dictionary and tell him the next day as to whether my opinion remained the same. I felt that he was probably making much ado about nothing. On my return, I fished out the dictionary, leafed out the pages to reach the sanctimonious word. To my shock, I found it was an assault on the character of his mother rather than affable way of addressing a friend. The next day I apologised to him and dropped it from my vocabulary.

As days passed, I grew fond of novels which was sprinkled generously by the "F" and the "B" words. I read them but did not imbibe them. Years later, I find that in most languages the slang form of addressing another male is derogatory of the woman. All vernacular languages in India has this cult and today I find that it is so much an order of the day that a boy of ten and above cultivates this habit without even knowing what the word means. The usr of the term as a term of affection or displeasure is comprehended only by the tone or tenor of the delivery of the language. As he climbs the career ladder it is so well ingrained in him that removal of such literature from his vocabulary becomes a onerous task. The need to scold one's in laws, spouse, enemies is so immense that the presence of a child which would latch on to every syllable is given a go by. The language gets ingrained from a tender age. Another facet is the provocation in the enemy is so great for this word that the human psyche has tuned itself to a gauntlet.

Interestingly, many of the persons who felt that the term was denigrating were using the same term to describe the original culprit. It was beyond one's comprehension as to whether the word assumed denigrating proportions only in the voice of a public figure but was otherwise perfectly acceptable. The media would have done better to place the issue in proper perspective. There was no need to put **** marks and raise curiosity levels. Such instances should be used to analyse the root cause of the problem and also the way to remedy it. This would have made a larger difference to the public, polity and life at large. Would some media house travel around with their sneak cameras and tape conversations of persons of all walks of life using such terms and make an impact on all and make it a foul word in the true sense of the word rather than make it selectively unacceptable?

A HUGE ISSUE - A SMALL IDEA

Reports of tensions over the formation of new states in the regions of Telengana and Vidarbha have been hogging the space. The theory of statehood has now boiled down to regional aspirations and every regional identity would soon be making a claim for its own share. The ground of administrative ease would be effectively used and states dissected to form multiple states. The basic question as to why the regional disparities arise are never addressed.

Let us take the British Empire which has the unparalleled reputation of being the one on which the sun never set. The races, languages, creeds and sects were so diverse. The colonies were huge and far flung but the administration was sought to be uniform. The protests grew from the awareness that the natives were being ruled by outsiders. Slowly,the empire disintegrated but the cause was that it had the element of being alien. Now how is it that a person from India is alien in India. A Telugu from Rayalaseema is alien to a Telugu from Andhra. Would these end up in the re assembling of the over 500 kingdoms the great Sardar brought together and integrated into administrative states?

If 500 odd kingdoms were carved out then would one Central Govt suffice may become the next issue on hand. It is time the issues are addressed at the base level. Regional strengths and weaknesses are to be identified. Interdependence is to be cultivated. The ethos of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam has to be reinforced. The needs of every sector has to be given primary importance over the narrow goals of any single individual. The checks and balances of the systems have to be understood in principle and tuning according to the changing times effected. It is to be understood that the principle of cutting the nose which has caught a cold would also spite the face. The principles of accountability, responsibility and authority is to be restored and then the issue on hand addressed.

A proposal is afoot that a Second State Commission would be constituted. The Commission should then examine alternatives to the language / region formula and go for a zonal formation of States. At no point should the top be heavy. The number of states should not in any event exceed 25. The density of population could be a measure for such state formation. The equity could be restored by giving a weightage to implementation of population control measures in any zone in both positive and negative terms. If the average growth of population say is 5% then if a particular area has a growth of 6% then the weightage would be a negative of 1% and if it were 4% then the weightage would be positive of 1%. This could be formed with the 2001 census as the basis with no provision for further division of states and only provision for amalgamation. This would be in tune with the economics of the big business houses which have also understood the economies of control.

A big issue, a small hat tossed. Any takers. Debate the issue and generate the necessary public opinion

CONCEPT V PERSONALITY - A SEQUEL

The post on concepts raised considerable dust. It reminded me of a school essay wherein the essayist had mused on the way mankind treated virtues. Man, he said was theoretically oriented towards virtues but in practice the vices prevailed over him. It was for this reason, the essayist remarked, that whenever some men displayed and demonstrated virtuous living, man was prompt in placing them on a pedestal, worshipping them or even converting them to God or messiahs. To this effect, he cited examples of Gandhi, Buddha, Mahavira, Jesus among others. He also observed that the tendency was to glorify the person to enable oneself to continue to be in the vice grip. Any analogy could then be conveniently avoided and the grip of the vices could continue to rule the roost.

The essayist was brilliant to say the least in his observations. A simple glance around would tell us that we worship these icons of non-violence. But, pray, how many of them adhere to it? The time for introspection has come. We must introspect. All scriptures teach us that introspection is the best teacher and the greatest reformer. However, we spend time in picking on others. Instead of worshipping these icons and trampling on their virtues would it not be the fitting tribute if their concepts were practiced or improved upon?

This, of course, leads to the next question as to how is this to be put across to the multitude. The best way one can put it across undoubtedly is to demonstrate the strength of these virtues and the ease with which it can be practiced. The simplicity would lead to a demonstrative effect. It could be argued that these icons were simple but their virtues are laid to dust. It must be comprehended that in their times they did reach to the multitude effortlessly. The vaccuum lies in the successors not adhering to it and choosing to celebrate anniversaries and remembrances.

In this background, one must try to analyse the result of pathbreaking ventures such as the movie 3 Idiots. The movie has taken on a system. At the end of the viewing one should ask these questions:

1. How many were inspired by the movie to take on the system?
2. How many liked the movie but would not venture to take on the system?
3. How many told their children at the end of the movie that the marks
would still count for their wards?
4. How many disagreed with the movie's concept openly?
5. How many agreed with popular perception but were against practicing it?

These would in effect reveal how much impact the movie had on the mindset of the people. The movie was largely peraonality oriented and not concept oriented from the public viewpoint. They would celebrate and fete Hirani, Aamir Khan and Chetan Bhagat but would not celebrate the concept. If the mindset were to be motivated to celebrate the concept and as an ancillary celebrate the peraonalities who personified such concepts then world would be a better place to live in.

Cabuliwallah of Rabindranath Tagore celebrates the love for a child by a stranger from a faraway land. A child lover would understand this emotion and then say that he is reminisced of the Cabuliwallah of Tagore rather than state that Tagore was a child lover and he needs to be celebrated, feted and the love for the child be forgotten. Tagore loved children, no less than Nehru but it is Cabuliwallah who personifies the love for children and the concept would live on till the love for a child exists.

A discussion with a colleague of mine threw up another interesting facet. Intelligence, she said, can be developed but not integrity. Integrity needs to be inherent and imbibed. At best a person can play an influencing role and nothing better. Intelligence is now restricted to celebrating the individuals and burying their concepts alongwith their bodies. The intention is that the concept should live on.

As pointed out in the ocmment, Krishna only gives the gist of the knowledge already in the Upanishads and Vedas in the Gita. The philosophy of Gita is to be taken and practiced. Whilst celebrating these concepts, we could pay our tributes to Krishna along with the Rishis and others who have given us this treasure. We owe our tribute to them but what matters is a fitting tribute which would only arise out of the concept being celebrated and not the individual. Aamir Khan would be happier if Lagaan won the Oscar rather than a best actor award for him. Similarly, Gandhi and Martin Luther King would have relished and cherished the day Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize had it not been as a war President. We have a living legend in Nelson Mandela who has celebrated tha concept of non-violence. Let us make a beginning to celebrate concepts. Once we do so, we would gradually learn to appreciate the concept of any individual irrespective of his status in society.

The story of Kanakadasa and the Kanakanakindi is told several times over to relieve us from the belief that one is superior to the other. It teaches us that there is a lurking danger of being humbled if we proceed on the strength of assumed superiority. But we celebrate his anniversary and proceed to differentiate. Have we learnt our lessons? Should we not make a beginning?

As I sign off I hope that the process of thinking will further gain momentum from the comments.

FUNDAMENTAL CHANGE- IDIOTS OR GENIUS

Concept learning and application is a casualty of modern education and societal mores. The more important thing is that the culture of accepting the right values from any other person has vanished more or less. The value is determined by the person who delivers this message. A distinguished personality such as the noted litterateur R. K. Narayan could make no dent on the system. His eloquence was lost on the general public and the eminent personalities. The same message is packaged in a different style by Chetan Bhagat and it draws accolades. This concept is borrowed and filmed with some variations by Hirani starring Aamir Khan. The brilliance of the message is lauded and the film has become a subject matter of many a blog and review.I personally would rate Swami and his friends at a much higher level than Bhagat's book but the question is who is available to listen to a jarring note on the jingling music of the box office.

The impact of a English television serial Yes Minister was well received but the subtle cartoons of R K Laxman did not have the same effect. It is not the argument that the serial ought to have been trashed or the book of Bhagat is to be put aside but the more fundamental question is as to why do we lap up certain things from certain personalities and trash the same words when uttered by another. A psychological wonder to be resolved.

The British Raj left behind an imperial bureaucracy and an adulation for anything foreign. Over a period of time the Indian aristocracy has also found a place in it.With the advent of 24x7 TV channels, we find ourselves dancing to the tunes of the anchors of these shows on any issue. Does it mean that the thinking cap has been doffed by all others?

The wry sense of humour would not be lost if one has walked through the streets of Bangalore over the years. Earlier, the pedestrians had a right of path on what was popularly called a footpath. The vehicles in those days were few and far. The pedestrians outnumbered the vehicles but the right of way was allowed to both. Today we find single occupant four wheelers by the dozens on the streets. People complain of traffic jams. Grade separators, underpasses, flyovers, expressways are some of the jargons which have come into play. Foot paths became sidewalks and then slowly disappeared from the horizon. Once upon a time the city was a haven for sparrows and the day is not far off when we would be having a lesson about the history of these pedestrian walk paths and may be a educational tour to a far off land where they are still preserved as a relic. Skywalks and underpasses have lost track of the needs of the physically challenged and the senior citizens. The concept of facilitating a smooth passageway for pedestrians has given way to a statistical existence of a pathway.

Recently, the magazine The Week had come out with articles on several controversial peraonalities. In one of the articles, the author had chronicled the various good works of the leading columnist Khushwant Singh. In this article it was pointed out that the author identified the craving of the general public and switched his articles to such topics. People deplored him in public but he was widely read. His coffers jingled and the practical man had made his living. He also had the satisfaction at satiring the gullibility and hypocrisy of the public at large. The concept he was actually putting across was asking a person to be himself. This was lost on the people. Now the various living gurus conduct classes and sell books where one is asked to be himself. They are lauded, felicitated, crowned and crooned about. Whither has gone the most brainy species of the animal kingdom?

Recently, I received a mail sent by Narayanamurthy to the Infoscians. He deplored the habit of sitting late against working late. The forward of the mail was also fast and across borders. People appreciated the mail. They continued sitting late. People who ignored the mail were working late. The irony was not lost on anyone. Imagine an entrepreneur of a small scale industry saying this to his employees. He would have been termed as superlicious, overbearing and atrocious. The Left would have swung into action to deliver the right punch and the media barons would have had a field day.

Essentially, today the matter is who said, when did he say, where did he say, how did he say and finally if time permits what did he say.

But the focus should be on what is said, how it is said, when it is said, where it is said and lastly as to who said such a good word.

Obviously we should lose the habit of saying Vivekananda said "Arise, awake, stop not till the goal is reached." It should be said "Arise, awake, stop not till the goal is reached." was said at, in the context of, in the manner of by Vivekananda. The suspense of the personality is to be kept for the end. We have to root out the personality cult to bring in the original concept oriented strong fundamentals. Will we awaken ourselves to this reality or fight over the credits to be given to Bhagat and Hirani or Aamir Khan?

ATHITHI DEVO BHAVA

India has a popular saying "Annadhatha sukhi bhava". This maxim has a number of meanings attached to it. The first and foremost being to thank God the foremost giver for the food. The next comes the Jai Kissan where we thank the farmer who gave us the food. The third being the breadwinner of the family. In the event of food being received in the form of a guest or alms then to the host and giver. Thus three words bring under its umbrella the entire gamut of providers.

A story in Mahabharatha throws light on the extent and the importance of the giver of the food. Duryodhana, the punching bag, is renowned to be a giver of food. His hospitality is said to be seamless. After all how much could a stomach accept? It is probably the only kind of alms that the receiver would be fully satiated with. To emphasise the importance of giving food, the story draws a parallel to the ultimate giver the Dhana Veera Shura Karna. Karna is touted to be such a big giver that he would give anything that was asked of him. So much so that he even parted with the armour which shielded him. But who would ask for small things of such a passionate giver. The persons approached him for all material gains and none asked for food. After the end of the Pandavas, Yudhishthira the noble hero finds Karna in hell and Duryodhana in heaven. One of the reasons is that all the recipients from Duryodhana were fully satisfied and blessed him whereas all the recipients from Karna had aspired for more.

I would often recount this story at the residence of my good friend, Shivu. I would fondly call his residence as Shivu's mess. Food would be on offer at any time of day or night. Additional helpings would be downed and at the end of it he and his wife would not be satisfied. The remark would always be that you people do not eat. I know him for over about decades. There is no change in his aggressive hospitality. One of his most cherished and unfulfilled dreams to be a witness to me wiping a full lunch served by his wife clean of the plate and the servings be decided by him and his spouse. As I used to recount this story from Mahabharatha, he used to laugh merrily and say "Useless fellow, you call me Duryodhana". I used to pull a fast one saying Guilty conscience pricks the mind in Kannada "Kumblakayi kalla andhare heggulu mutti nodkondananthe". Over a period of time his daughters have also inherited these genes and ensure that all persons who visit their place are well fed.

In fact, he is one person who never has his food till he has fed at least one another person outside his family irrespective caste, creed, religion, age, gender or any other conceivable bar. The saying Athithi Devo Bhava meaning the guest is God is practiced by him in its true spirit. An association with this person teaches any "useless fellow" a number of things.

DHOTHI- A HOME AWAY FROM HOME

Belgaum experiences are etched in golden letters. I was there for a period of about ten months but the nature of goodwill I earned and the relationships that were fostered during this period is amazing. Today is a day to remember some of them. I have a friend who is about three years older to me but a youngster at heart. We enjoy mutual regard for each other and share many inimicable moments which we treasure. He lived in a large joint family which consisted of his grandmother, mother, sister, brother-in-law cum uncle, nephews and a younger brother of my age. The grandmother whom all addressed as Avva was an orthodox lady and had passed on these tenets to her daughter-in-law cum granddaughter. The mother was an highly adaptable lady with strong convictions. The brothers share a strong bond and the nephews brought up the rear front. They lived in such harmony which made me realise the values of a joint family system.

On the day I landed in Belgaum, I was taken to his house and I was to share a lunch hosted by this wonderful family. Fresh out of college, my casual wear was a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. The same type of wear was used for my home life. I was not used to dhothis or lungis. As the plates were laid out in a circular fashion,I waited for them to finish the preparation. Then I was told to get ready for lunch. I enquired about the place to wash my hands. A serene voice towered over and told me in chaste Dharwad dialect that I should change into a dhothi and doff my shirt. I said I was comfortable and looked around. It was my friend's grandmother. Slowly, she enlightened me on the need for comfortable wear at the time of lunch, its merits on the digestive system. My friend's sister told me clearly that all practices, traditions and rituals had their significance. Therefore, she said, "I know you are obedient and will listen to elders. Once Avva has told it is final." So saying, she gestured to her elder son who pulled out a dhothi. My friend who knew that I was at a loss took me to the inner room in the guise of making me comfortable for the change and asked me whether I knew to wear a dhothi. I confessed to him. He smiled and said. "Everything has a first time. We will help you out and you should be comfortable." The cordiality and the genial way in which the matter was pressed left me dumbfounded. In any other scenario, I would have expressed my displeasure but Avva came near the room and said, " The boy knows what is good for him. If he is unsure of the dhothi, give him a towel to hold it." with no arguments left and the decisions already made, I went on to don the new attire. The shirt and pant were placed on a hook and then the ceremony of washing the hands was adhered to. Then it was announced by his mother, "He is another son and let him have the first seat." My friend looked at me and laughed while his brother told I will take the seat by him.

The seats duly taken, it was ceremoniously annoucned that lunch will be served and there would be no panthi bedha. Effectively, all had to consume everything which was served. A fussy eater, and a person with highly introvert qualities, I glanced at my friend for help. He quickly told his mother," Since he is new to this system, let us make a small exception for him." The mother understood her new son's plight and said, " She will serve exactly as I would need." The brother looked at the quantities being served and taken by me and told," One of the two things have to happen. Either you start eating well or I will change my seat to a seat before yours. As soon as you stop Amma from serving she is skipping my leaf too." The plate is also termed as a leaf colloquially. Soon the others joined and I had become the cause of a lot of merriment. The meal for others had concluded while I was still eating. The whole lot of them waited for me to complete my lunch. The plates were to be left which is contrary to our practice of washing our own plates. I was unsure of rising from my place with the dhothi but successfully did so. The day was one of revelation.

At the end of the day, I had become a part of the family. I started relishing their customs. The nephews of my friend became my nephews, the younger brother became a good pal and all other relatives of his were also mine. We exchange notes till date and lungis have become my home attire. My friend Kitti at home and Giddu in the friends circle has given me another home. So much so when I really wished to reach out to home during my stint at Panaji, I would just drop in at Belgaum. The family welcomed me with open arms and I earned a place in their hearts.

BIRTHDAY, NEW YEAR AND A TRIBUTE

The new year celebrations at work is not my cup of tea. The year 2009 was an exception to this rule. The year 2008 had been a traumatic experience for one of my senior colleagues. He had been suffering from the terminal illness - cancer. Initially, he had suffered more since he had not shared it with anyone. Over a period of time he had come to accept the inevitable. In the month of December 2008, he was in and out of the hospitals and was more eager for the inevitable end. Boosting his morale was a solemn duty I performed. Over the days I had mastered the art of not looking at his condition and tuning into my ultra positive approach angles. I would saunter in nonchalantly and tell him that he looked far better and he would shake his head. The terror at office was a subdued man and took my wishes in his stride. He would smile when I said that we looked forward for his return to office. Once outside, we were always wondering what overcame me to deliver such profound sermons to an ailing man. We were also stunned by the terrifying personality eagerly lapping up such innanities with pleasure. We could sense the childlike need for attention in him. In this scenario, a proposal came up that we should visit him on the New Year's day 2009 to greet him. The unanimous decision was that I should be present and I conceded to the wishes of all.

The year dawned and soon after exchanging pleasantries and wishes at the office we moved to the residence of our colleague. We carried a bouquet and offered it to him. While all of them greeted him, I went further to say that he looked in good health and far more cheerful. He gestured regarding his inability to eat. Much to everyone's chagrin I told him that medicines required some food to act on the system. His family was enthused when he agreed to have some juice. A week or two passed with a couple of visits thrown in.

On 21st of January we were having an argument regarding a visit to his home. The lunch was getting delayed. I declined to join my friends in paying a visit. Long faces were drawn and lunch boxes opened. A culrural fete was on and some of them had gone to attend the same. The telephone rang and the news came in that he was critical. Again the issue of going started. I declined and picked up my spoon. The phone rang to announce his demise. He finally left with a stamp of authority. The only day I declined to visit him he forced me to. We closed our lunch boxes. we moved to his home and attempted to console the family. subsequent day I had to leave out of station and hence could not take part in the funeral.

Having paid the last tributes I reached home to realise that it also happened to be the birthday of another colleague. Realisation dawned as to how the same day could be a celebration for one and mourning for another. I could not help recollecting this when the noted singer Aswath passed away on his own birthday. What should be the day for his family? Celebration or mourning?

AN UNUSUAL WAGER - A NEW YEAR GIFT

Human history is replete with competitions. Man first competed with the beasts and slowly evolved to compete with other men and himself. Competitions have always evoked an element of interest in the people around. Imagine the Indo Pak cricket match, the frenzy that it arouses in the spectators is much more than the rivalry on the field. Imagine a competition in the household. A wager between a mother and a son may not be one that is seen or heard of much.

It was in the mid eighties when I was still a college student that this event occurred. The batter for the dosas would be made and fresh ones rolled out of the tavas on to the plate. The count would never be kept and the steaming hot dosas would vanish from the plates and melt in the mouths within a trice. I cannot remember whether it was the hunger, the youth or the taste that mattered but at the end it would be with a rather disappointing grunt we would rise from our place to announce that our quota of the tiffin for the day was over.

On one of these occasions, someone remarked as to how a person could live on dosas and idlis leading to a discussion on various recipes available. The discussion traversed through the entire South Indian milieu and finally the arguments rose to such a feverish pitch when my mother remarked that if one were to prepare the tiffins without repeating ( a la the much touted dressing habits of women) then there were enough recipes to hold for two or three years. At this juncture the brash youth in me rose to challenge that forget for two or three years, one could not but with hold oneself from repeating the same dish within the course of the year. Well all this was based on the firm belef that idlis and dosas would have to be repeated anyway.

The atmosphere of general discussion gave way to a vertical split in the living room. Lo and behold!!! I was the solitary reaper on one side and all the others were with my mother. A challenge was laid in the form of a gauntlet for me to pick or concede defeat. Well both were a lose lose situation. For a fussy eater, accepting the challenge meant eating all dishes that are prepared in the course of the year without a demur and sticking to the palate meant instant roar of disapproval. Chants for the challenge to be accepted grew louder with little choice left to this soul. So the wager came to be made. There was no element of vanavasa or agnathavase nor was the dice rolled but the odds were loaded heavily in my mother's favour considering the fact she had helped her uncle publish a book of recipes in the fifties or sixties.

The die was cast and I picked the gauntlet ( Admittedly not out of valour but out of sheer peer pressure ). The New Year was rung in with the Doordarshan's New year festivities and suggestions were pouring from all sides for my mother to make different dishes.

Sheepishly, I asked her what would happen to the idlis and dosas out of fear that in all the different recipes these may be simply left out for a whole year. Even my father seemed to think that this was a good way to educate me into the merits of eating with out a demur. So began the wager.

My mother assured me that there would be different varieties of dosa which kept my spirits high. Dishes started rolling out as days passed. In those days of little connectivity, the letters would contain besides the well wishes for well being a ip for my mother or a couple of recipes or a reminder. Letters from this end would contain an update on the status of the wager, the dishes in the interim period apart from updates on our activities. Indeed that whole year we happened to be the cynosure of the extended family.

In a diary which was used to record important events and the financial transactions, a pride of place was given to the recipe of the day. Days passed, months passed and slowly the year too passed. Not a single dish had been repeated. In fact, recipes were ready to hold fort for another 3 to 4 months. Doordarshan's New Year's Eve programmes were on the air. The question was whether it should be extended into the coming year too. Flashback into the year told me that I had lavishly eaten. The most despised tiffin of those days and may be even today is the khara bath or uppittu which in itself could be accounted for close to a fortnight or more. For nothing do they say once bitten twice shy. I instantly told that the wager was won hands down by my mother, conceded defeat and requested for the old times sake to be restored. The unsaid portion of the bargain is I spend the New Year's Eve and New Year at home which is a joy for my mother. A small concession for my friends would be to join them for an hour or two or merely greet over the phone.

Reminiscing those days, I could say that it was probably the best education that my parents imparted to me. Today, I would never underestimate another's capabilities or competence. I relish the camaraderie of the family and friends for the whole year through. Such an year would never repeat itaelf for me but why should not some more moms take a laaf out of this experience to wean their children out of the pizza and pasta parlours instead of hollering around or grievously complaining on their habits.

Ruminate over this and spend a wonderful 2010 which would come with innovative ideas for addressing the challenges.