FROM A HOBBY TO AN ENGAG(ING) EMENT

School days were the times when I used to be glued to books. A million pardons if anyone thought that I was glued to the academic books. The books were fictions. From the time I was in second standard, I have been a proud member of the City Central library. At a time we used to pick up atleast two books and sometimes the number would be as many as four using the cards of my maternal uncle. From the genial stories in the Ladybird series such as Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Rapunzel with all her golden locks the graduation to Nancy Drew, Hardy boys, Alfred Hitchcock, Sherlock Holmes,Agatha Christie was through a session with the folk tales and fairy tales. The feverish pace at which these books were devoured was peppered with the great dessert of Amar Chitra katha and Indrajaal comics.

These were replaced by best sellers of Jeffrey Archers and many others. The critic in me soon took over and the selection of books was left to a choice of many who would review and give me a positive go ahead. Reading as a habit was on its way out when my posting was to a place which had little room for any mental activity. Reading resurfaced as a habit. At this point of time a young friend of mine recommended Chetan Bhagat's Two States. This was more so after there was some discussion on the movie of 3 Idiots which I declined to watch very politely (or so I thought, since most people who I interact with would beg to differ on the aspect of the politeness).

Days passed and I managed to lay my hands on a copy of the book. It was a good read and a rip roaring comedy. It reminded me of another book in Kannada (may be the author was the great Iyengar) about the couple's trip to America and one Tamil piece on the wedding being conducted in America on typical traditional styles.The Kannada book was an autobiographical piece on the experiences of the author and his spouse touring the USA in the traditional attires attracting the attention of the folks around them. The cultural differences were brought out in a subtle manner. I used to read out this book to my friend's father who had been hospitalised and needed some respite from the hospital aura. The Tamil piece was a book given to us to increase my fluency in reading Tamil. It spoke of a venture of holding a Tamilian wedding in the USA where the whole marriage party is flown into the States and they do not wish to compromise on any of the traditions. One of the unforgettables is the effort to make out the vadams, a dish made out of rice flour and dried in the tropical sun to be fried in oil through the rest of the year as an accompaniment to the meals.

Bhagat's book went a step further in putting two traditional weddings in a single book. One a typical Punjabi one and another a typical Tamilian one. I enjoyed the comedy but did not miss the sub text. Yes do we not think we are more a product of a particular region rather than of a country. In fact, a couple of years back when a host of youngsters joined our organisation, I found the address of one of them to be Kolkata. Assuming that food would be of primary concern and to put the young man at ease, I told him that being from Kolkata he would find the food different here. What mattered for the young man was the fact that his ancestors hailed from a particular region in Bihar rather than the fact that a concern for his food was being communicated. The cosmopolitan nature of Bangalore has rubbed into us and we do not find the need to classify ourselves by our mother regions. In fact my name is a cross of a common name of the southern belt and the second name being a popular surname of Punjab. Bhagat would undoubtedly envy this favour done to me.

Another sub text was that I noticed that the most hilarious pieces were the ones causing the disomfiture to the protoganists involved. Are we not the kind which make merry at another's discomfort? We do take pleasure in sermonising small kids to be broad minded and never indulge in merriment in another's discomfort but as adults the humour itself is best when someone else is in discomfort. A senior colleague of mine normally expects "FINE" in a stenotarian voice when I am asked "How are you?" I have had many discussions on the issue. On the last occasion he told me "Remember, if you laugh the world laughs with you but if you cry or are in sorrow the world laughs at you." I differed but this book made me introspect. Looks like I must admit there is truth in the wise man's saying.

Being a person who does not travel much, the book has inspired me to look at travel as a means for resolution of issues. A revelation indeed. Light reading for all souls but packed sub text for others.

A great favour done my good friend, I thought and called him up to pass on the credit for a wonderful choice of reading material, even as I was half way through the book. As I wrapped up the book and imagined Bhagat in the veshti and the ordeal of merely getting married with the blessings of elders at home, I had my young friend paying a visit. I passed on the credits again to him and imagine him popping another surprise on me - he announced his engagement.

That's what one could call an engaging preamble to a happy engagement

CHANGE IS PERMANENT

We have people talking about GDP growth, creation of jobs and generation of income and wealth. We also hear of the loss of jobs, the effect of recession, the effect of the protectionist policies adopted by the USA and so on. Does it not sound familiar? The extinction of certain species of birds, animals and the groups that cropped up for their welfare also had the same syllables and tones. The classic case would be that of the homely sparrows of Bangalore bidding adieu to their fauourite haunts including our own residence.

Look around you, reflect and you will notice that quietly some people have made way for others. Surprised? You may not be surprised at the end of this blog.

I remember the good old days when we found a cobbler at the end of the alley leading to our residence. Cobblers were seen at nook and corners. Soon we had LIDKAR which provided them the temporary shelters which would shield them from the fury of sun and rain while they discharged their duties. Soon, these tenements were moved out on various pleas and as of now there are various stretches where one would never find a cobbler. Another professional was a watch repairer. He would have a peculiar table which was a precursor for cubicles. It resembled a glass cubicle mounted on a wooden table with the roof. The man behing the table would have a lens fitted onto one eye and with a tool and deft fingers would be handling the miniscule components of the watch. Today, these fine specimens of workmanship are not to be seen. In fact, with the onslaught of the mobile industry many do not consider the need for a wristwatch. ( For that matter I realise that yours truly also does not wear one). Slowly, the showrooms of the watches are also making there way out.

Imagine an era when one would go head over heels saying a photographer will be at our school for a group photo session. Today, the cell phones are in the process of removing this species too. At one point cameras had become an essential accompaniment and apart from studios, the branded labs mushroomed across the town. The digital cameras, mobiles and bluetooths besides web cameras have diminished the roles of these persons and it would not be surprising to find that these professions would also face the same fate as others.

Deepavali, Ramzan and Christmas was eagerly awaited by the people for procuring the best of attires. The cloth shops would dish out materials which would then be taken to the tailors. The celebration of these festivals was incomplete without the tension of getting the dresses in time. None dared to question the integrity of these skilled artists. Each family trusted a particular tailor and the person was a part of the family. The growth of branded dresses, the standardisation of sizes has left these fine specimens to be a very rare genre.

Bangalore was always famous for its groundnuts and maize which would be served out by wayside vendors at practically every bus stop. The steps of the majestic Vidhana Soudha would be paved with the groundnut shells which would make any red carpet pale in comparison. Unfortunately, these shells are no more part of Bangalore palate. The pizzas, bhelpuris and cafe days have taken over the palate of the young and old alike.

Food would remind one of the frienly provision stores nearby which not only served the customeres in environment friendly paper containers but also had the multi faceted task of being a landmark, a guide and probably the best friend around. Similarly, the flour mill was a place where one could find a congregation of persons from the locality who would get rice polished as well as get a variety of grains ground for a small cost. The advent of malls which also provided instant mixes as well as the ground flour has put these saintly souls into oblivion.

Event management concerns have taken over the roles of the elders in a family who would organise any function. The friendly cook of a function is replaced by catering units. The contractors for building houses have given way to developers of apartments, villas etc. Essentially, the items food, clothing and shelter itself has undergone a sea change.

Did not kings give way to a democracy? Did not the high priests of tradition pave way for the modern era? Well change is perennial and proverbially permanent. (Ironic eh!!!)

So good souls let IT give place to BT and BT to NT and so on. Let change be permanent.