DIFFERENT STROKES

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.