INDIA - LEAVES, PLATES AND PALATES

There is a popular adage that one always leads to another. This seems to be true as I had ventured to reflect on the "Two States" by Chetan Bhagat. Now I happened to read a virtuoso performance on the banana leaf in another blog which inspires me to place this blog on this site.

The author has made a wonderful description of the skills required to manouvre the fluids such as rasam, curds, buttermilk etc from reaching the boundaries of the leaf while savouring the goodies on the same receptacle with a fan overhead trying to blow away the favourite appalam while the silk sari vies for attention by ensuring the sweat on the brow. The description took me down the memory lane where I recollected the recipes rattled by dear Appuswamy, the efforts of arranging a wedding at Washington as well as wonder as to whether our own Foodie of the day has attempted this feat. I must admit to have a sneaking admiration for the Foodie of Times Now channel who adds the true flavour to the Cyrus Broacha shows of The news that Wasn't by giving outrageous performances. The travel did take me to my own battles with the food on the banana leaf. The banana leaf was rivalled by a poorer cousin which was round in shape and was in fact a collection of about eight to ten leaves held together by small sticks. These leaves were also popularly used by people to serve the tiffin in functions or at hotels as well as to steam the much revered idlis. The Salem merchants had come up with another novelty of crafting a stainless steel plate with embedded cubicles. In fact, it would amaze some that I still treasure a stainless steel plate which has cup shaped receptacles much like the ones used in some restaurants or darshinis wherein the liquids could be safely contained while one could leisurely chew at the food laid out. All this when I am not one of the favourites of any reasonably good chef with a sane head on his or her shoulders. The reason being my ineptitude to do any justice to the fare laid out.

As I visualise people heaving sighs at the number of feasts I have given a miss only to ensure that I do not become a cynosure for the abysmal performance, another incident came to my mind which would set anyone thinking.

We had the privilege of being the neighbour of a native of Tumkur district who believed that they were the best in terms of purity and emphasised that they were above "even Brahmins". We used to be in awe of her peerage though I must admit that in retrospect the smart lady had ensured that none question her caste credentials by invoking such a pristine position. Imagine a catastrophe striking a person of such a noble lineage. What else it could be than that her brother who chose to marry a person outside their caste more so which was considered much lower in the name of love? All offences had been committed at one go by this superbrat but the noble lady would still host a feast for the young couple. The nobility thus displayed was greeted by tears of this errant brother. One marvelled at the tears of joy and gratitude that welled in the eyes of the guest who had sacrificed his noble lineage at the altar of marriage.

It was much later that one was enlightened that the serving of the meal had taken place on the round congregation of leaves. Banana leaves after all a costly affair, one thought. But how was one to know that if a close relative of this noble community was served a luncheon on the leaf then it amounted to humiliation as per their tradition.

If this is the tale between Tumkur and Bangalore what could be the difference between Punjab and Tamil Nadu would be anyone's guess. It is for nothing that one says that India revels in its diversity.

My heart goes out to those Punjabis who are adept at tearing of a portion of the paratha held in the left hand by the right hand and gulping it with ado as much as it goes out to the Tamilian who believes that the left hand has sinned and should never be seen to as much as touch his much privileged leaf. While rasam of South and the kulchas of the North vie with each other we do have the binding force in the dal albeit cooked differently. If you disagree cruise along in a houseboat on the Dal lake to set the appetite on fire.

NUMBER GAME

Numbers have fascinated humans for a long time. Probably the need for numbers arose when humans tried to keep a track of the repetitions in the activity. Maybe the tally mark was the first system of using them as a counting machinery in a systematic manner.

The most avowed hater of arithmetic or mathematics would still be indulging in some sort of a number game or so it seems. If anyone's eyebrows are raised by this do look around.The residence we live in, the office we occupy, the telephone we use for communication, the areas are identified by Postal Index Number or Code Numbers and so on are some examples.We have had numbers to identify ration cards, voter cards, criminals, convicts and undertrials,the ticket by which we would be entitled for travel, the seat or berth which is reserved, the milestones on the road, the various meters/ metres, the measures and weights,etc., the list could go on.

With the onset of technology we have now moved from numbering the various things to methods of numbering oneself. We have methods to numbers as employee identification numbers, voters identification number, Permanent Account Numbers, Tax Deductors Account Numbers, the Unique Identification Number - hopefully would be the crowining glory.

As we were deliberating on our growing penchant for numbers a colleague of mine gave me a shocker. Guess what? the Government would come with a move that no human can bear a name. The edict would read that all naming ceremonies would be rendered irrelevant. But hard core traditionalists do not lose heart, we will still have a numbering ceremony. So be ready for mathematical nick names such A cubed 32 or B squared 29.

Gen next was replaced by Gen Y. Now we look forward to a numbered generation.

SPORTSMANSPIRIT, KINSMANSHIP AND GREENE

The sporting season spans the calendar year. Be it the frenzy of Formula 1 or the evolving styles of tennis interspersed with the various styles of cricket, a few matches of chess thrown in followed by golf,basketball,et al. The motto of sporting spirit is brought out once in four years in impeccable style by the Olympics, Winter Olympics, the Special olympics etc. The question is which could be termed the ruling deity of all games.

No two sports can be compared for their own intrinsic values. But it cannot be gainsaid that the season of French Open brings to fore the fragrance of tennis which moves to lawn tennis mode at the Queen's Club followed by the wet Wimbledon. The sheer tenacity of the warriors on the court brings the partisan viewer out of his most diplomatic stance of "the game is the ultimate winner" stance. The memories of the ace Vijay Amritraj who has made a record 41 consecutive annual visits to the shrine of tennis legends. Must make the most devoted Sabarimala devotee wriggle in anguish. Some of them find it difficult to make 18 consecutive visits to the famed shrine in Kerala. Similarly there are several other rites and rituals which demand consecutive annular visits which have to beat the obstacles of any natural eventualities.

Reading the memoirs of Vijay Amritraj one would have readily come to the conclusion that Tennis was the reigning deity of the games. But the denizens of the sub continent would have immediately rushed to the aid of their much revered game of cricket. Compare a Indo-Pak cricket match or the one of Aussies V England or the Kiwis, one could trust that the best of tennis stars cannot hold their forte against the frenzy of these games. The Anands, Karpovs and Kasparovs or the Woods and Schumachers would have to just bid goodbye to their fans in the cricket crazy lands for any kind of attention.

Yesterday was one of those days. India and Pakistan was to clash in a one dayer at Dambula in their battle for the Asia Cup. All the ingredients for a match of wits and skill were served on the plate. But imagine the relegation of this match to a mere filler between another game. The game that stole the show was one of riveting football. The twenty two men on the field, the two referees and the coaches with the music of the vuvuzelas ensured that one was just transported to the old world. The arms and feet were involuntarily moving to dribble past an imaginary adversary. The shots at the goals were breathtaking. As usual the minnows received the best wows. The Milla of Cameroon in the earlier editions came in the form of Gyan of the present edition. FIFA was undoubtedly the king of sports - at least if democracy was to be the form of rule.

There were some pathetic moments too such as the one of Green of England. This incident took me to the old days of sporting at school. The games period involved choice between hockey, football, basketball and volleyball. Football always had a shortage of volunteers in the form of goalkeepers. Yours truly was one willing soul as far as the best in the class chose me to be his team's goalkeeper. Our class had some of the best footballers or socceroos as you would wish to call them. Pradeep, Kamal and myself were an inseparable trio in opting for the goalkeeper and backs post. We would be rest assured that the ball came no where near us. If it did (by the folly of the best socceroos) what could the poor keeper do? Yes you guessed it right. The goal would land safely in the net. Therefore, my sympathies lie with each of the goal keepers. They say birds of the same feather stick together. Greene, if you do venture to read this piece, you will be rest assured that there was no mistake of yours or the Jambulani but it was only another quirk of sportsman spirit. Move over Pele. The new breed is here to take the world of football by storm.

SEVEN - THE TREACHEROUS NUMBER

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.

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.

A PROMISE REDEEMED

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!!!

CUSTOMER IS KING - BPO STYLE

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.

PLEASE NOTE THE CUSTOMER IS THE KING AND IS VERY VALUABLE. YOU ARE JUST A CALL AWAY FROM YOUR ULTIMATE SALVATION.