Sunday, May 30, 2010


Seven has been a favourite number for generations. We believe in seven being a lucky number. We speak of crossing seven mountains and seven seas to overcome hurdles. Princesses lie on beds made of seven mattresses and feel a pea underneath. In India, marriages are made for seven generations and does it really take anyone to the seventh heaven. We are so obsessed with the number seven that when one accumulates wealth, it is remarked that even seven generations would not be able to exhaust it even if they were not in any gainful occupation.

This led me to think on the front as to whether we could meet any person who has met persons of seven generations. That would indeed be a feat considering the fact that after having met my great grandmother, grandparents, parents and contemporaries as well as a spate of nephews and nieces, the boast ends at five generations. With not much time left on hand would I make it to see two more generations that would be entirely dependent on the pace of procreation by the present generation.

Looking back, I find that my paternal grandparents had the opportunity of contributing to the rearing of their great grandchildren but were probably not fortunate enough to meet their own great grandparents. Thus, at any given point of time they only made upto six generations. Seven indeed is a tough number and my ruminations continued.

One of my friends had shown us an invitation card for the centenary celebrations of this grandfather. As I pen this blog, I feel he may come closest to my find for a person who has seen seven generations. But....

Yes !!! the doubt remains. In mythology one of the greatest characters is Bhishma but he too missed the mark. He had never met his grandparents but if one were to consider Sathyavathi's father then upto his own generation one could reckon three. Pandu's generation was the fourth, Arjuna's the fifth, Abhimanyu's the sixth. He did not live long enough to meet Parikshit the one of the seventh generation.

The only one who remained was Ved Vyasa himself who went on to not only see Parikshit but also Janamajeya therefore making it eight generations at one go. But considering that Pandu and Dhritarashtra are his children, this looked in a different perspective reduces the number of generations he could vibe with.Are there any competitiors for this great feat?

Incidentally, it appears penning the golden jubilee blog is easier than traversing seven generations.


David Coleman is no more read a paper headline. I was not unduly perturbed till I read the report. David Coleman was none other than the child star of the famed Different Strokes. Memories flooded its way in. Different Strokes used to be a wonderful English sitcom beamed by Doordarshan in those pre cable days. The two youngsters who starred in the sitcom had caputred the imagination of all and set an appetite for humour for all of us. The twinkle in the eyes of David Coleman was unforgettable and the impish acts was a much awaited weekly phenomenon. Reading further I realised that he was just a few months senior to me and had gone through a traumatic phase in life which was contrary to the visuals that were in my memoirs. Silently, I paid my tributes to this untimely demise.

Different Strokes, The Lucy show and Around the world in 80 days were some of the most awaited sitcoms of the early days of Doordarshan in Bangalore. I had always considered the star to be much younger to me and looked forward for his cherubic smile. Silently I have even looked forward for a re telecast of these cherished moments but have not been able to lay my hands on them. Hopefully, Different Strokes would now become a fable for the present generation too.

The memories of these moments strangely brought to my mind the first dozen years of my life. I am one of those fortunate ones to have been able to vibe with great grand parent. I remember, my mother's maternal grandmother who had a stirring presence and a great physique. Her face too always sported a toothless grin and she took delight in catering to a family which spanned four generations. Probably, it was the common aspect of the smile, laughter and grins that she shared with David Coleman that brought memories of her at this point of time.

She precisely knew the prejudices that each of us harboured as much as she understood our weakness or liking to some specific items especially food. She also was a great sport and was the first one to introduce me to a boardgame. Popularly known as Pallankuzhi, it is a game played on a set of depressions in which tamarind seeds were used as coins. One had to start from one of them and if the seeds on hand ended in a depression which preceded an empty one then all the seeds that inhabited the one following the depression became the prize. This activity would go on till one of the two players ended up with no tamarind seed and the other took all. A wonderful game in hindsight but never can I recollect having won a game.

The lady firmly believed that passion, affection, love et al should never come in the way of a game. She would have made an excellent coach of this game and produced world class champions. Unfortunately, these games have been pushed into oblivion and we encourage video games and computer games.
The game was meant to be contested and won. No stone could be left unturned. Tips could be offered to polish one's skills but the practice of losing the game to please another was definitely not her cup of tea or should I say glass of coffee.

In hindsight this to appears to be a lesson in sportsman spirit and the need to cultivate a healthy competitive spirit. The tendency to spoil a kid to give it all the moment it starts throwing a tantrum or bawls was definitely not what was believed in. The need to strengthen the wings for a flight was always felt.

The affection was given in generous doses in other ways. In the last ever encounter I had with her, we visited her with grapes only to notice that eating would be difficult for her with a boil on the tongue. Such elementary understanding was also beyond me at that stage. The moment she offered it to me, I reciprocated by popping a couple into her mouth. She munched it over without as much as a protest. The compromise was made by her in bearing the pain but never in savouring defeat to please another.

She too was a master of different strokes. A predecessor to Anand's mother being his first second and coach.

Saturday, May 29, 2010


Telephones have their own use was proved once more. A mother of my old classmate reached me at office over the telephone. She was clear in identifying herself and crisply told me that Uncle was in hospital and was in need of six units of blood. Admiring her ability to communicate in this time of crisis I assured her that the same would be available in a short span of time. She had the presence of my mind to give me the particulars of the hospital and I merely panicked in reaction and reassured her that she need not worry. In hindsight it was the most senseless act since without the particulars of the hospital to whom would the blood be donated and where?

Disconnecting the call, I proceeded to contact my friends who were in the habit of donating blood. After a few calls and finding that some of them would not be in a position to do the needful since the term of three months from the date of the last donation was yet to lapse. Couple of them had undergone a surgery and therefore would not be allowed to donate their blood. After a dozen calls, I managed to scent the first success. Normally, in times of such crisis I have always been used to scoring on the first shot. I had already worked myself up and after giving the relevant particulars the first prospective donor, I proceeded to scout for the next person. As time passed, I was more like a vampire or a dracula which was bloodthirsty and if I had the knowhow of extracting blood then most of them who were in my vicinity would have been subjected to an involuntary blood donation.

Few calls later and the blood having been arranged, I moved on to meet the aged parents of my friend. Discomfiture was writ all on his face, but he made it a point to talk to me and then excuse himself for rest. The folks at the hospital were cordial and it reminded me of a promise to speak of a nurse who had impressed me on an earlier occasion at the hospital.

The lady was probably in her sixties and had a straight walk. Hailing from the Mangalore belt, she could not be missed by anyone who even sauntered into the hospital or was one among the anxious waiting patients or attendants. She knew the needs of the persons waiting, declined to sit and ensured that the wait was minimised by putting the doctors on notice. She ensured that the staff and other nurses attended to the immediate needs of the patients by delegating tasks to the personnel available. Senior and junior doctors took her words seriously. She spoke to people with concern and in lighter vein to infuse humour in a tense atmosphere. In a nutshell she was the present day Florence Nightingale short of a lantern and war heroes.

Another nurse in the same hospital also had an impressive streak. Hailing from Kerala, probably God's laboratory for nursing, she wore a cheerful look, gave timely counsel and ensured no task was left unfinished. At the end of the day, she ensured the attendant was adequately briefed and made light of even the most grave issues. A heir apparent for the present day Florence Nightingale. Blessed be the hospital with such staff and such dedication in a world which is more into pomp and show rather than actual concern.

Reminiscing these moments as I exited, one of the donors or should I call him the victims of my vampire act made an appearance. He astounded everyone by making a solemn vow- if I did not possess a cellphone henceforth, I may be placed on his death row.

Resolute as I am, at least in these matters, I had to state matter of factly that it would serve no purpose. We laughed and parted ways. Blessed be such donors!!!

Sunday, May 23, 2010


The BPO culture has caught up with every sector. Even the Government is now resorting to outsourcing its work to the BPO s . The major project in outsourcing that Bangalore had initially bagged was the London metro. Today, we probably dictate the lingo of the BPO s across the world. I have had the occasion to have a peek into the BPO s and thought I should share some of its lexicon for the less enlightened ones.

ISSUE - In layman's term it may be a problem or one which requires a solution.

MAY I HELP YOU - Shortly you will be transferred to the seventh heaven with music if you are lucky or if you are less fortunate you will hear - Please stay on the line. Your call is valuable to us. or Please stay on the line the executive is busy. Sorry for the inconvenience. A permutation or combination of these messages is the help that would be unfailingly rendered.

SECURITY QUESTION - It is the gatepass for you to present your issue. One may write out his resume in different manners but this is stereotyped and unless you cross the requisite number of questions depending on the levels of security of the data,, no information can be provided. If you do not understand this logic, you are advised to read fairy tales where the prince has to cross seven mountains, seven seas etc to obtain access to the princess of his dreams

TICKET - This means the executive has considered recognising your query and therefore would be considerate to record the issue. The number he assigns is sacrosanct and is the key for any further progress in the matter.

ESCALATED - This means the "Issue" is transferred to a person who is higher in the hierarchy.

WILL GET BACK TO YOU- This means you are expected to forget any communication in the matter. In case you still dare to get back to them then they get back at you.

RESOLVED - This means the issue is treated as resolved since it has been actually resolved or it has no solution at the present or since the BPO does not have a clue to the solution or it feels that it cannot be solved or the time limit set for solving the issue is about to be crossed.

HAVE A GOOD DAY- This means the call is ended and the call will be terminated at the other end whether you approve or disapprove of it.

Negatives are not permitted and therefore you do not use complaints. Suggestions would be welcome if it comes from the person who has entered into the contract after due negotiations.



Mangalore hit the headlines for all the wrong reasons. A plane outshot the runway and crashed into the valley nearby leaving over 150 families bereaved. The reports of a couple of persons missing the flight on account of their bosses handing them generously a heavy workload and that of two brothers who were probably looking forward for a huge welcome party on account of their forthcoming wedding left mixed feelings. It brought to the fore the hard reality of our presumption that we are eternal. The truth of Yudhishthira's answer in the Yaksha Prashne sequence hit me hard.

Mentally, I extended my condolences to the bereaved families and mulled over the luck of the eight survivors. The debate on the television screens on the faults of the pilot vs the fault of the airstrip was again ill timed. It was not the moment to debate the issue but extend assistance to the overstretched manpower which was salvaging the debris and looking out for some survivors in fond hope. The technology was to be put to use to gather evidence, focus on areas which appeared out of bounds and lend a helping hand to the bereaved families. The very same debate could have been held a couple of days later after the decoding of the black box and all facts were on the table. The media appears has not learnt its lessons from its mishandling of the 26/11 attacks.

Highly opinionated, focussed on gaining TRP ratings and lack of empathy in tragic circumstances has become the order of the day. We have had the domination of the print media, followed by the Executive and then the judiciary. So the electronic media obviously does not want to be left behind in the race. Raising the frenzy of living room discussions with total lack of objectivity needs to be condemned unambiguosly.

Arnab, could you learn from the Big B, Sachin and others who tweeted on the issue? If you agree with me mail this blog to Times Now channel. If you disagree leave a comment to that effect.

Saturday, May 22, 2010


Saturday is one of the days when one can catch up with the neighbourhood banker. In the hustle of this Saturday, I had chosen to use the hi tech ATM to withdraw the cash. Inserting the card, into the slot, I thoughtfully waited for the message on the screen. The PIN having been punched and the amount keyed into the system, I placed my hand to receive the cash. Instead the screen flashed that due to a technical error the amount to be drawn was only Rs 4000/-. This had been my experience for the past few months, I thought that I should make the authorities know of the continuing fault.

Having made note of the toll free number, I made a call to register a memorable conversation. The voice at the other end greeted me courteously and asked whether he could be of any help to me. Delighted at the obliging attitude in the most selfish world, I narrated the happenings at the ATM. I was cordially told that this call pertained to another division and was asked whether I would mind being on hold. Civil society needs to learn from these souls a lesson or two in polite behaviour. By the way I thought I should probably tune my own behaviour too. As my thought so meanedered its way, the music on the line went through its motions and soon I heard an apologetic tone expressing sincere regret for the delay and enquired about the issue faced by me. Again I made a mental note, issue is any time a better word than a problem.

Brushing aside the problem, I narrated the issue on hand. I was promptly asked the details of tha ATM, my account number, my mother's name as a security question and the voice at the other end told me approvingly, "Sir, you seem to have got into the habit of withdrawing only Rs 4000 at a time." I reiterated the issue. I was helpfully asked whether I had tried any other ATM. Replying in the affirmative, I gave details of the ATM s where I had faced the same "issue". I was told very regretfully, " Sir, this matter then would have to be taken up with your branch manager. Thank you for calling us. Could I help you in any other matter?" As i "but" ted, the voice told me clearly that in this matter the road's end had been reached and thanked me for using the services. The call was ended on most polite terms on a firm note. Obviously, the person at the other end had better wofk than listening to a whining old fool making a mountain out of a molehill.

However, pleased with the etiquette of the bankers, I would have miserably failed the young voice at the other end of the wire if I did not heed to the instuctions. Setting aside the priorities of the day, I made my way to the bank branch where I hold my acccount. Striding into the bank I noticed a sea change in the affairs. A huge billboard proclaimed the ease in the use of ATM. debit cards, NEFT, RTGS, internet banking etc. Another beautifully engraved board requested customers to use the ATM for transactions upto Rs 25000/-. This reminded me of the purpose of my visit. Looking around I found the office of the AGM, the branch manager empty. I was informed that they were busy helping the staff in sorting some "issues". Looking around I heaved a sigh of relief on not finding any kids. Otherwise sorting issues could mean sorting out of triplets or quadruplets or quintuplets etc. May be he was sorting the bigger issues (pun intended!!!)

After a wait I found a much harried branch manager resuming her seat. I was in a dilemma as to whether I should be adding to her woes. But could I fail that young voice on the wire which reminded me of etiquette which was taught at my mother's kneee. Gathering myself, I made a brave surge into her presence and announced for her audience. With a disgusting look she inquired " what is your problem?" Hurray, I had found another of my breed and vibing with people of the same wavelength is always easier. Therefore, I made a light mention of the problem with a heavy dosage of praise for the worthies on the wire. Instantly she reprimanded me saying those useless bunch of BPO guys had sent me on a wild goose hunt since the branch could do nothing about it. She raised her hand gesturing me to keep my mouth firmly shut. She gave me the brief on the woes of these hi tech gadgets and the network. she gave me another number to register the "complaint". As I told her that it was then only prudent that they allow me to draw the money from my account since more than five withdrawals were not permitted in the ATM and I am being prevented from using my own money which was against natural justice. She quoted the bank rules as one would quote the scriptures and I was turned back with a "next".

Wondering how the bank could be so ungrateful in giving me low interest, charging me service charges etc for using my own money in a SB account I made my way to the passbook counter. There was none to be seen. The printer was in its place with a cardboard sign which read as under:



Wish I was tech savvy and could have captured this memorable piece on a cellphone camera and posted in on this site for posterity. People many years down the line would reckon how forthcoming we were. We could have a baring party at a bank. Let me assure you the above is not my typographical error but reproduced as it was seen. Laughter they say is the best medicine. I laughed my way out of the bank, its issues and problems realising that I was too primitive in this highly advanced world.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010


Tradition, culture, rites and rituals are keywords to Indian philosophy. Discussions around the world involving any Indian includes a lament on the diminishing regard for these cornerstones of our existence and the heritage we have inherited. Of late, Bangalore is becoming a hub of activity for restoration to our glorious tradition.
Eyebrows may be raised and a couple of decibels too in pointing out that trees have been felled, tanks have vanished, western clothes have replaced the traditional clothes et al. This is a classic case of missing the fine print.

Let me elaborate for the less enlightened souls who are wallowing in the lament of the deterioration of the Pensioner's Paradise,Garden City relating a first hand experience of the return to our glorious traditions.

The BBMP elections were followed by the tarring of the roads on an evening which saw a apell of rain. The BBMP ensured that another coat of tar was offloaded using hi tech machinery. There were no labourers carrying loads of tar or levelling them. A vehicle which served as a tipper poured the asphalting material on to the roads whild an leveller in the rear of the vehicle ensured that no corner was left untarred. The resplendent black roads were glistening. A clear case of neighbour's envy owner's pride was visible as inhabitants of neighbouring wards muttered under their breath without making an attempt to conceal their envy. The owners joined hands to garland the machinery and congratulate the newly elected corporator. A Coconut was broken to bring tradition to the fore. Two days passed and there was a thunderstorm.

The roads were washed with water which could not move into the concealed storm water drains. The residents could no more be gleeful. Alas they had not realised that two Government agencies had resorted to the most wonderful task of taking people to their roots. The Senas failed and so did the Senes but the Government could never fail. After all we have one with believes that Government's work is God's work. The manholes had also been tarred and effectively blocked. The sewer water was gushing into the houses through the drains. Calls to the helplines were greeted with helplessness. The night passed and the day dawned.

It was decided that community cooking would be better option. The ritual bath had to be undertaken. Question of using the bathroom was ruled out. The ancestors reminded us that they did not have any such inhibitions. People moved to their respective terraces. An open air bath heralded the return to the tradition. The water so discharged from the terraces to the garden. A classic case of implementing the recycling of water. Soon we may have bathing ghats, drinking water ghats and so on in nearby locales. The most adventurous youth were seen sporting the traditional costumes except some errant ones who preferred the bermudas. Change was in the air and MNC s beware the much despised Government machinery is working and will leave no stone unturned in guarding our traditions without any seminars, discussions, project reports etc. India is back on track. Hip Hip Hurray!!!

Sunday, May 16, 2010


Anand is Viswanathan screamed a local daily's front page headline. The play of words was something commendable while the feat of Anand himself was one which lifted the spirits of even diehard cricket fans. Having been an avid follower of Anand's spectacular rise, I wished I could have been the copy writer for this wonderful piece.

Anand is "Viswa" nathan could have been a clearer one while Anand is Viswa Anand meaning world's joy. The game of 64 squares has fascinated me and I have been witness to some games of the Russian grandmasters at the Malleswaram Club and the Chowdaiah Memorial Hall. The versatile Sudhakar Babu was a senior of mine at school and we took juvenile pride in his accomplishments. I have had occasion to play a game of chess with him and attend many classes at the Malleswaram club. The method of noting the moves was learnt by me at this place.

A couple of tourneys later I realised my potential in chess was way behind. My nephew who was taught the primary moves on the chessboard soon started defeating me in blindfold games where he would play blindfold. I prodded him to take up the game seriously. However, this was never taken seriously. Probably he was the first person for whom I had done a potential assessment. Later in the last couple of decades I have found that the uncanny knack to identify the inherent talent in others around me.Small mistakes are costly while Anand has managed to hold fort with steeled determination. In this context, my musings turn to certain recent events which is in itself a mindsport albeit not restricted to the 64 squares.

In the recent past, I had occasion to speak my mind to one of the youngsters. In the beginning I had warned him to desist being in Government service. The idea was to provide him an unfettered launchpad for a wonderful career. It soon became evident that he would never be receptive to any idea other than a Government post. I made suitable amendments to my proposal and asked him to consider taking civil services. He was quite cold to the idea. In my recent encounter, instead of just speaking my mind in a jovial manner, I chose a straight forward approach. An autobiographical account of the blunders committed in the career game in my own case was placed as a case record. The avenues missed and the miscalculations made were exposed. It must have sounded like a move by move story of a chess game in which the narrator was check mated. The youngster soon became subdued. After a sermon, I looked into his eyes to find it moist. I realised that he was touched. I left the matter at this and hoped he would soon be informing me that he had scaled this peak.

Last week was also one of disappointment. In my personal evaluation I had indicated to another person that the diplomatic trait in him would fetch laurels for the country. It was only the play of words by him but also his strategic skills on the board of 64 squares which impressed me. Soon, I came to face the temper of the individual. The very trait which had fetched him appreciation was missing. Did I make a wrong assessment? Or were the circumstances so overwhelming that the inherent trait was lost? Queries within my mind remained unanswered. I concluded that if the person concerned were to realise the gravity of the mistake and make amends by apologising to the persons concerned then he still would succeed in securing laurels in a diplomatic career. Lest I will have to rethink on my ability to hold wise counsel or the assumption of the role of a coonsellor.

Time would soon reveal the extent of success or failure in this endeavour. Did I emulate Anand or Topalov or Kasparov or was I Bobby Fischer who despite his talents went into history like a flash in the pan remains to be seen.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

The Musical Poet's Diary: YOU!

The fact that 24 posts had seen the light of the day after the dawn of 2010 was less daunting compared to the task of making the 25 th one memorable. I owed something to each one of you who have kept my spirits up and prodded into my writing skills. It was at this point that I stumbled upon Bhaskar's blog which I felt was the best tribute that one could pay. With due apologies to him, I place this link for YOU to read and voyage into a poetic world.

The Musical Poet's Diary: YOU!

Thursday, May 6, 2010


In the great epic Mahabharatha, there is a besutiful episode of yakshaprashne built into it. This story is used as a mode by the poet to answer several queries and point at several queer aspects of mankind. In one of the questions, Yudhishthira is asked what is the thing that amazes him most. He responds by stating that the mortals grieving over the dead but assuming they themselves are immortal. In another story which is on the lines of a rose by any other name called would remain as sweet, a child which has a peculiar name wishes to change its name. In its search it finds that a deceased person's name is Amar (immortal), a poor girl's name is Lakshmi (the goddess of wealth) and so on. All said and done we in the east believe that the end of a person's life is a solemn occasion but at the same time do not grieve extensively since we believe in rebirth and fate. The only form of death that is celebrated is Veera Swarga that is the death attained in a battlefield.

As many of you might be wondering what this musing is all about, yours truly needs to bring the whole thing into perspective. Last week was witness to a historic trial resulting in the death penalty being handed out for a heinous crime. The hon'ble judge may have adhered to the solemn British tradition of breaking the pen on signing the judgement. This is not found worthy of reporting. The trial was parallely conducted by the electronic media which mishandled the 26/11 terror attacks by providing invaluable inputs to these offenders by telecasting the same. They escaped with a small reprimand. These co-offenders who, albeit, unwittingly contibuted for the snuffing out of some valuable lives now resorted to award the penalty a day before. They started a campaign for fast tracking the entire proceedings to the gallows. In the course of reporting, the reporters went on to remark that the accused Kasav sobbed and looked at the floor- an act described to be a drama. What was the media trying to do?

Let us face the truth. The families of the victims could at best feel some justice is done when they find the offender ultimately hanged to death. But let these pretenders not try to hike their TRP ratings by playing on the sentiments of the public. The offender is in his early twenties. He would have relished to see people run helter skelter to avoid his fire. How many persons of that age do not enjoy bullying the others? In fact, we have many adults doing so. This does not condone his act but it is a natural instinct of happiness to see another being afraid of one's own power. The fact that he was nabbed and being the only one to have been nabbed would have unnerved any other person. But the fact that the spotlight was on him and answers to queries were sought from him would have given him a foolhardy egoistic boost. He obviously enjoyed the Jekyll and Hyde act to the hilt going to the extent of claiming that he was a local. The day of the judgement would have pulled the curtains of illusion off him. It would be difficult to digest a question regarding the option of death. We are unable to face uninvited death. Here is a lad who goes through all the trials heroically only to be told that he could be hanged. Death staring in his face more so from an alien could move anyone to tears. This is what has obviously happened. The kudos in this should go to the judge who only described the depravity of his deeds but understood his emotions, permitted him to be taken out of the court room, provided water and brought back to listen to the pronouncement. He went ahead with the sentence which condemned the acts unconditionally and imposed the sternest of punishments but at no time did it offend the sensibilities of any person.

Living in the same country as the respected judge, why do our television reporters and anchors consider themselves as the upholders of all righteousness? Should they not have limited themselves to the professional reporting? They have fallen in the eyes of many once more. We do not expect them to be Christ to pardon the offender. We do not expect them to emulate the aggrived missionary family of Orissa in seeking pardon for the offenders. We do not wish that they emulate Gandhi in providing an equal footing to an adversary. But the least they can do is not stoop to the extent of terming the facing of a death penalty by a 22 year old in a court of law in a foreign country with a few sobs to be theatrics. May we remind them their profession is the fourth estate and would reflect the cultural identity of the country. Let them seek pardon for the offence by not committing any such offence in future.

The question of fast tracking of the sentence should be left to the judiciary. Let us remind them the success of our diplomacy was heightened when we presented the bodies of the soldiers to the other country in a dignified manner. The refusal by them was followed by a dignified burial in our own soil. This act spoke volumes of our ethics and stupefied many countries. As a nation we should represent a single face and not seek to publicise one's own identity.

Let us respect every person's life and death in the same manner. Solemnity of the occasion would drive home the truth. Celebrations of the demise of one could provoke sentiments on the other front. Let us not have a Hiranyakashipu follow a Hirnayaksha. The Asuras though misleadingly get agitated by the celebrations of the Devas on the death of the members of their clan. Enemity was not invited when Vibheeshana was made king instead of celebrating the demise of Ravana. A lesson taught by the epic but not learnt by the Arnabs, Rajdeeps and others of today.