Tryst with the Gods

This Visit to India I made my peace with the Gods !

We visited many beutiful temples in Kerala and Tirupathi outside it .

I could not take a foto in Guruvayoor temple because I woke the Lord early morning at Nirmalayam !

The rest are Triprayar the river facing scenic temple in Trissur district ,

Chotanikkara where an elephant was swaying in peace ,

Poornathreswar temple of Tripunnithara was only a passing glimpse in the road

Chakalathukavvu devi temple near Changanserry was nice but on the way our car almost sank into the flooded waters of Kuttanad !

Shariyikkil temple of Parappanangadi was going back to my roots because it is my family temple .

Nada temple in Palluruthy,kochi west is the closest to my heart and my daily morning ritual

and the Velli temple again in palluruthy .

Of course I have included a wayside cross and my most beloved God Gandhiji in this blog of temples and a coconut landscape ,to me nature is where God is .

Most of the fotos were taken in my humble Nokia N 73 which literally competed with my costly SLR Nikkon D 3000

Time the healer

The hat trick of recent scams are the breaking news these days .

Adhimuthu Raja the telecommunications minister for India swindled just 1.73 trillion crore rupees from the country by granting 2 G connections ,he got a send off from the cabinet by a rightful kick in the posterior .
theother two oostees were Kalmadi the bearded CWG hero of the now famous rupee 700 toilet roll scandal ,and the Maharastra state CM Chavan for The adarsh apartment scandal which deprived Kargil war widows of thier well deserved Colaba flats ,conviniently shared by politicans ,army higher ups and businessmen.

how nice and neat ,the kingpins of corrupt scams resign and fade into oblivion till the heat settles down only to be resurrected later when the collective amnesia of Indians would wipe any guilts .
All three are not an exception in Indian politics ,in fact one is only suprised to find any politician with no scandal worth his name .
Raja has illustriuos predescors from his Dravidian party of Tamilnadu ,
the septegenurian CM of the state is a veteran with an early start

One remembers the Veeranam scandal and Cooum beutification among other things but he still continues as is the CM of the Nadu .
His son Stalin during the emergency days was a ganglord in detention ,but today is a youthful looking 60 year old who also doubles as the deputy CM of the state .
So resignations and dismissals are part of the game .
Iam yet to hear of any Indian politician rotting in a jail because he was corrupt.

He may need to commit bigger crimes like murder to get into jails and some never do too

.It isnt easy for them you know to be jailed not like for you and me ,

of course they continue to contest elections from jails and live in style so not a big difference .

The party concerned makes a deal with these powerbrokers for thier silence in order the details of the money distribution and pocketing is never known

,normally these hardly are one man shows

Of course no one asks for the money to be returned back to the state !

the trillions swindled would never be demanded either by the courts nor by the powers how nice !

an with time resurrections are assured
The law of Indian politics states

" Resignations are the sacrifice required in politics and resurrections are its rewards "

time after all is a great healer .
and so the pinarayi Vijayans and Andhimuthu Rajas continue to keep smiling, as they know well that even if they are indicted they would bounce back .

Deepavalli in Madras

I grew up in Chennai ,those days it was still Madras and Mylapore where I spent my childhood was full of temples and festivals round the year .

Come January there was Pongal when all the milkmen of the area would parade thier cows and buffaloes in full livery http://hariwrite.blogspot.com/2010/01/pongal-times.html ,

come April it was the new year ( Varshapurappu ) just a day before the malayalee Vishu so to me it was a double whammy ,.

Navarathri celebrations were colourful with Golu or doll arrangemnts and snacks like chundal and music everywhere http://hariwrite.blogspot.com/2006/09/nine-nites.html ,

Vinayaka Chaturthi was another big hit with children for it provided tasty succour in the form of kozukattais but the mother of all festivals was of course the big D Deepavalli

The northeners called it as Diwali festival of lights but for us Madrasis it was always Deepavalli

This is a pan Indian festival ( only exception is probably Kerala where but for a tepid early morning bath which incidentally is routine for every malayalee and nothing exceptional there wasnt much to do in Deepavali in Kerala ! ) but for mallus in Madhras Deepavalli was a s big as it comes .

The exitement would start months ahead .

My dad worked in the Sectretariat T Nadu and the festival fever would start the day he brought the list and catalogue for fireworks and sweets from his office stores

we would pore over it and start ordering

Of course my budget conscious mother would trim it down to a bare minimum but still it would have lot as the office could get it at very reasonable prices ( most of the fireworks companies could ill afford to charge the secretariat staff more for dire consequences )

The next bit was going out to shop for clothes ,we would all troop to Luz corner and enter festooned textile showrooms .I still remember the Nalli showroom near Kapaleeswar temple which had seprate sections for men ,women ,and children ,which in those days were a novelty one could get lost there ! and it was Aircondtioned ,mind you !!

Again with the strict finance minister of a mother trimming purchases with an eagle eye on the budget( her favourite was always Jeevan Jothi stores in North mada street as she was an old customer to them )

The cloth purchasing spree of course had its small tragedies too often my sister would not be happy with a particular pavaddai I would fret over a not so colourful trouser and there would be some arguments finally all would be well

We would then go over to Shanti Vihar for a tasty masala dosa washed with filter Kappi

no thing has tasted as delicous as food of those days in life ,so far and it is still so !

Those were days of little ,but every morsel was enjoyed to the hilt ,there was no wasting , no excesses , no luxuries ,but enough small joys .

I remember once we all including my grandmother went to a photographer for a family photo

( ypu can see me in the right extreme sitting with a quizzical twitch to my eyebrow )

we would then go to bed tired after the shopping .

The days would slowly trundle towards the big event with increasing sounds of crackers and more festivities as it approached it ,my mother an expert cook would make trillions of snacks and sweets and the house would be filled with its aroma

Deepavali eve was a noisy and colurful one with markets filled to the brim, firework shops lit bright ,people crowding the roads ,the buses packed to the hilt ,men hurrying home with laden bags from thier offices to four days of holidays ,streets would be strewn with papers from crackers ,the air filled with a pleasantly burnt smell of fireworks

The All Inida Radio would repeatedly give warnings of caution with crackers and what to do when one got burnt ,there would be bans on some crackers like The Atom bombs ,etc but they still would be available in plenty ! ,

Rockets would zip into the air with thier sparking tails ,flower pots would whoosh thier brilliance inot the dark skies lighting up our exited faces ,whirling lights called chakrams would dance on the floors ,there was also a vishnu chakram which one held in the hand like the lord Vishnu himself ,there were snakes which burnt into fine ash into a point in the ground ,there were trains which were tied to a big rope and fired and then would travel from one end to the other ,there were the famous Lakshmi crackers which made booming sounds ,humble red capes fired from to pistols ,chain crackers would make a continous rattle ,colourful matches and so on and on .

How could one sleep through all this ?

The exitement of the next day would make us insomniacs but we would be tucked in sternly by a not much enamoured by all this mother .

Dawn would see us waking up to booming sounds, it was like a war and we would take the traditonal oil bath and dorn our new clothes and then it would be crackers sparklers and everything else,the coveted collection would be empty by around 7 am .

The neighbours would call us home to give us thier share of cracker and feed us with thier sweets and eats .

One can never get such neighbours theses days the whole palce was like a huge family laughing and enjoying ,pure fun indeed .

The afternoon would see us children going off to just released kids movies and then evening would be another bout of fireworks and finally the big day would end up in a pall of smoke and disappointment for we would have to wait another year for the next Deepavalli

For days after this the talk in school would hover around who bought what and who burst what

It is all in front of my eyes even today ,even though it is more than four decades past,specially today Deepavalli eve .

Happy Deepavalli to all of you .

The Drunk

I threw up again ,the stink rose through my nose hitting my befuddled brain ,even in that state it was revolting ,
The smell of vomit with booze in it and lots of it too is always revolting
All the more if one was lying in a gutter with bilious liquid dirt flowing all around you
Where was I ?
Of late this question had always popped up in my mind clearing the fumes of whisky from my gray cells for a moment ,a fleeting moment when I saw myself and felt disgusted
How long had I sat in the bar ,did I fight with the waiter ,I remember being pushed and kicked by some people there when I had almost fallen on the waiters feet and clung to it begging for a peg more ,empty bottles paraded in front of my eyes The black and red labels ,the vodkas gins rums and later when my wallet emptied the local stuffs those which threw you into the air with the punch ,the sweet release it gave took me into a world so different ,a hazy fog laden dreamland where reality disappeared and one lived like a caliph in surreal exuberance .
Where the hourbis danced for you as the finest of the wines flowed ,where the tongue grew into a snake and explored the nooks and corners of language playing with words and terms and places unknown and un begotten
This was world where there was no barriers nothing kept you back ,one was unleashed into freedom to act to do and to say ,there were no etiquettes here no social niceties bothered you there were no worries like a blanket thrown on fire they just smoked inside you and never popped out
For ages it had been like that this liquid would burn its way into the thoughts and actions of people and change them like nothing else ,it was not the benumbed state of the drug world where one was in a state different that was like death and rebirth for I had meddled with that too to get better punches ,but this was a world unlike anything else .
Little did I think I would become part of this world ,the one that I despised and the one whose inhabitants I scorned and cursed to the depths of hell as the dark side of society ,I was always against taking drinks and would opt for softer ones even in parties where it flowed and friends would prod me to have a drink ,I was never attracted to it to me it was something which would change my senses from me and that was something forbidden and dangerous
How did I of all persons become the drunk I am today !
Was it the bout of happiness or the pangs of sadness or the yearning of lonliness that took me through this dark path to hell I don’t remember much these days everything is befuddled and strangely abstract there are no more clear tones to my life it has taken a softer and hazier look with the edges blurred all the thought process is there only in my efforts to get my next drink ,remember having sold most of the belongings including the house to meet my piling debts many cheated me and exploited my helplessness my family left my wife tired of my violence and strange behaviour ,digusted with my intermittent apologies and bouts of violent drunkenness, my darling children were afraid of me and my friends shunned me and looked away when they saw me ,I had fallen to the depths ,all efforts to pull me out of the pit were failures the temples the swami is, the hospitals all gave respite for a short time with me going back to the pleasures of Bacchus like a good Samaritan who returned .
And today I have woken up in this gutter smelling my vomitus
The few coins in my torn shirt pocket jangled as I tried to get a hold on the edges of the gutter and pull myself out ,finally I managed to extricate myself and lay on the roadside it was raining washing away my dirt but not my sins ,I didn’t realize there were tears of remorse too mingling with the wetness of my cheeks ,my children grew large and my heart welled with deep sadness at my sorry state
where am I today from the brilliant marketing manager with the stars in his eyes and racing up in his career to a street drunk in the gutters my job had gone first ,my boss needed no excuse to kick me out as he knew I would surpass him one day with my skills so he did his best in the early days of my habit ,money was no problem then and friends too I had loads as I had saved a bit ,a palatial bungalow and a couple of cars ,the jarring lectures by the wife and the strange looks by the children were the only things that gave me a guilt but I just passed it off for the pleasure.
I knew when to stop and I would ,was my oft repeated statement and as far as the job was concerned I had so many offers .only thing nothing fructified nobody wanted a wino working for them and slowly my reserves dwindled and so did my good time friends they just vanished into thin air like genies
There were willing lenders who slowly and steadily took away my properties my family left me as I was unlivable I moved into a single room slum apartment drinking my days and nights off
To me that was the only life I knew and the days went ahead in a flurry of swallowing and vomiting the vile liquid. I hardly ate if at all it was only those spicy snacks that came in bars and arrack shops I needed to nibble them to swallow the bitters
I was a looker at one time turning heads with a resemblance to the local cine idol but now my hair had fallen become grey and was all muddled up my gaunt cheeks and wasted body made me look like an Auschwitch survivor and I had lost a couple of my fine white teeth being kicked by characters in bars .
Most of the bars knew me and had tolerated me a lot ,slowly their patience had fallen as I never paid the bills and was in their tables till late in the night and became a nuisance
So that was my state I was as deep as possible in the shit as one could be

I felt someone offering me a hand then ,surprising somebody would do that to drunk on the street ,I took the offer for I wanted to rise from the slush ,it felt soft and was the hand of a teenager ,it was familiar too and then it struck me it was my son how did he come here and at this time of the night he was 15 of course but still they lived far away
was I dreaming ?
“ Papa come “ he took me into an auto there was somebody else with him an older person he moved to make room for me and we chugged off through the lanes
I slumbered still clouded in my thoughts and was shaken awake after some time I went in to the house of probably the person who came with my son I was taken to washroom given new dresses and I remember lying on the soft beds and then it was bliss
Till I woke up and ached for my peg I looked around the room frantically searching for my habit and was about to burst out when the man accosted me and made me sit on the bed
He was stern and talked to me succinctly some no nonsense words
his child studied with my son, he was in the armed forces taken retirement now and in business he would be taking me to RHIMA the deaddiction centre in Kochi west run by the Indian medical association ,he had to do this for he had promised my son who had come to him and wept a few days back and he was somebody who didn’t go back on their word ,he was a man who one did not argue with
I gave a sarcastic laugh and told him had been to many such places and nothing much happened
I would go back to drinks I knew, he said try this once too for the sake of your family your son and this did the trick my heart went out to my son and his soft hands
shortly we were in Rhima and Mr Mohandas the manager gave me the briefs and the rules ,
A doctor assessed me they gave me some pills to stop my craving and some food and I fell asleep
The first few days as always was hell I treid all the tricks in the book to get a drink even trying to bribe the other inmates but nothing worked Rhima was firm and at the same time soft with its inmates .
slowly I fell into the pace and with other inmates lived along without drinks a small surprise for more that 20 days my son came with his friends father and he seemed happy to see me presentable
I had shaved and worn clean clothes and regained some semblance of my old self
I attended the meets the gatherings did some gardening slept a lot and days flew.
I left the place in a month ,somehow this time it worked I had a difficult time in the first six months but Mohandas was there just a call away and most of my friends in the A A meets were there to help me and prevent my fall into the pit again
it is now along 6 months since Rhima saved me I got a small job and moved into a better place my son visits me but my family has still not moved down
the hurt is deep and would take more time
slowly my debts are dwindling and the sun is up in the horizon thanks to my son and RHIMA

............Was written for RHIMA Deaddiction centre Cochin run by Indian medical assn cochin West my branch

Thai Tales .

Thailand in 2010 

The chennai international Airport confounded us with chaos and confusion .

 It was Haj times and one had to trudge a long distance sans trolleys which just werent available ,

Chennai city definitely deserves a less shoddy airport than this . 

We were off to our four days sojourn to Thailand for a get together of my wifes classmates KMC 79 batch reunion . 

The tour itself was courtesy Diana Travels ,and was arranged with finesse .

 After exited sightings of old classmates and thier families

 ( my batch was 77 but I knew most of them )

we were comfortably enconsed in the orchid themed Thai airways flight . 

The colourful and tastefully attired airhostesses and stewards welcomed us with a very ethnic Sawasdee and folded hands .

From that moment the Thai culturee ,history and its similarity to Indian specially Hindu culture intrigued me . 

The menu unfortunately designed by Michelin star chefs was tasteless and disappointing so much for michelin stars !

Even the Vodka shot could do nothing to change its tepidity . 

In three hours we were at Suwarnabhumi airport which was somewhat similar to terminal three Dubai but more eastern ,orchids were everywhere and the royal family beamed on us from above .

 The taxis were rainbow coloured and striking ,it was a wet morning and the rains had made it cool and nice .

We alighted into our luxury coach . 

Mr Ramanan one of the Directors of Diana travels had accompanied us and he introduced us to Mr Tim our guide for the tour . 

Tim said he was a direct descendant of the last emperor of China ,we did believe him because he was a wonderful man with his quaint chinese english and quiet demeanour akin to Jackie Chan in Karate kid . 

Our itinerary was packed and we had no time to waste 

We moved on to Pattaya which was around 2 hours drive from Bangkok airport . 

On the way we went to Sri Racha tiger Zoo ,after breakfast we saw some shows of tigers ,elephants crocodile etc which were absorbing . 

After lunch we checked in at A1 Cruise hotel shaped like a cruise ship facing the sea ,a couple of hours of sleep made us fresh for the evening . 

Things happened in Pattaya only at dusk ! famed for it nightlife and sex tourism It seems during the Vietnam war American soldiers found physical relief in Pattaya and thus orginated the famed nightlife of Pattaya . 

Pattaya also had a side of it for families with no lurid intentions ! 

We went to one such famed show called the Alcazar show . 

It had beautiful ballet pieces with excusitively dressed women beautiful and gorgeous ,we wowed at thier subtle sensuality ,flowing dances ,sparkling colourfullness and stunning visuals .

After this feast for the eyes and the senses we could see the artists at close quarters as they gathered in the lawn outside to bid us farewell ,it was then that we came to know that the sinuous curves bubbly chests, full lips and rosy cheeks all belonged to lady boys and not women !

Most of them would give our Bollywood/Tollywood heroines a good competition . 

With the ladies and children heading for a much needed rest some us of men folk headed to explore the famed night life of Pattaya ,the place was full of massage parlours with different possiblities suggested ,in one place the girls were all lined up behind a glass screen and the selection was done by numbers with the smiling girls joining the person selected and going off with him ,after our voyeuristic tours we went for one of the live shows with seductive Russian lasses some among us were made to accompany them in the dances too ! (no details please )

 By midnight we took a tuktuk

 ( an extended auto which can carry around 10 people ) we refused Tims invit to a round of more pleasure places and returned to our rooms soberly, to our wives with honours intact . 

Morning we were off to coral island which was reached after an exciting speed boat ride there was parasailing and underwater walking I tried the latter and enjoyed it we kneeled wobbly on the ocean floor with a huge head mask giving us oxygen from the boat above ,fishes of all kinds nibbled our bare skins as we felt corals and sea anemones guided by expert divers .

 Many went for the parasailing including all from my family which I heard was great fun , I limited myself to taking photographs for posterity . 

After a nice dip in the sea we returned back to our hotel by boat and lunch we then went to Nong Nooch Tropical Garden, situated between Pattaya and Sattahip on Sukhumvit Highway, had a modest beginning 40 years ago as a fruit orchard on 520 acres of land but has become since then one of Asia's leading botanical gardens with a collection of palms, cycads, shrubs and rare species of plants. 

In 1954 Mr.Pisit and Mrs. Nongnooch Tansacha bought 1500 Rais (approximately 600 acres) of rolling hills and valleys at kilometer marker 163 on Sukhumvit road in Chonburi province.

 The newly purchased land was anticipated to become a fruit plantation. But as fate may have it, 

Mrs. Nongnooch during a trip abroad, was inspired by the beauties of many world-renowned gardens and decided to turn it into a tropical garden of ornamental flowers and plants. 

We also heard a story from Tim that the lady named it after the person who saved here from imminent death and died in the process but I could not authenticate this from the web .

The shows were elegant and traditonal and the garden was exotic .

 We then went to the famed Gems showroom where a train ride gave us the history of gems and thier making ,the showroom one of the largest in the world had a wide choice of stones . 

We moved on Bangkok after a long drive and post dinner checked in at East Inn hotel exhausted but happy . 

Every single detail of our tour was meticulously organised with enough time for sightseeing ,shopping and all other needs it was safe secure comfortable with delicious food . 

In this post I would recommend all readers to go straight to Dianna travels Chennai for any of thier travel needs .

Mr Ramanan one of the directors of the firm with more than 3 decades experience and an old Sita travels hand was a wonderful friend and guide to all of us .

They specialise in corporate tours . 

The next day morning after a sumptous breakfast we went to the Golden temple ,we managed to take snaps of its towering spires in spite of the constant drizzle .

The reclining Buddha was long and massive . 

Thailand followed Therawada type of Buddhism and the majority religion was Buddhism .

Hinduism and sanskrit names were very common and one found lot of references to the Ramayana with more than nine kings called Rama ,one of the kingdoms in ertswhile Thailand Ayuthayya had its lineage from Ayodhya ,many of the main roads were named Rama 1 Rama II etc after the kings the Sukumvit road ,Suvarnabhumi airport ,the huge showpiece in the airport of the Hindu legendary Amrit churning using a snake ,the folded hands greetings definitely showed the historical links existing between ancient India and Thailand its heritage and culture ( food for a seperate blog ) 

I was discussing this with Dr Dhanasekaran in one of our moments of rest a very intresting aside of the trip . 

The country has given great importance to tourism as it has enough to offer .

 Moving away from the sex tourist label Thailand is focussing more on its rich culture and history with excellent infrastructure and tourist friendly comforts and safety feutures , 

We Indians have a lot to learn from this small country . 

The afternoon was dedicated to shopping ,we walked amongst the narrow bylanes filled with people reminding us of south Mumbai the huge IT mall with hundreds of electronic shops but Dubai was definitely a better bargain place with more choices .

 Evening we were off to a grand cruise in the Chao Prayya river with ornate temples and highrises lining its banks the bright lights reflectd in the moving waters as the huge ship cruised under many bridges ,tables heavy with food the deck resounding to pounding foot as peppy Tamil and Bollywood numbers kept us on our toes dancing our blues and letting our hair loose . 

The river was Bangkoks soul in its begginings but the famed boat market is no more today with the city having grown with its skytrains ,metros buses colourful taxis tuk tuks and even motorbikes where one could get a pillion ride to anywhere . 

The last day we went to a safari park with the bus taking us around a forest with deers sambhars rhinos giraffes and on the on the fenced other half reclining tigers, lions lazing around in thier natural surroundings oblivious to the curious humans and thier clicking nuisance,the trickling rain wet lakes grasslands knorled trees and the misty climate made the safari one of my most memorable experiences .

 Post lunch we had in our plan some more shows which we wisely skipped and made up with a restful chat with old friends under a canopy of greens we then were off to, by now our old friend Swarnabhumi airport and its duty free offers . 

We bid farewell to Tim the lastest emperor and his benign smile , 

We bid a goodbye to Thailand itself a land of simple people hospitable and friendly thier rich culture deep spirituality innate beauty ,a land where there was freedom to choose the subtle or sensous as be your choice with no judgements or prejudices .

Where one is treated as a mature human being with the power to choose and enough choices to choose from .

 Back to Chennai Airport and to our dear India

 

 

Pettikattal or packing

Going on leave to India for people in the Gulf is an occasion ,

even though these days it is not a big deal as things are convinient and one can fly at ones whim if the timing is correct .

Earlier the interval was longer and the preparation was also elaborate

Those days one had to buy the mandatory foriegene things for the near and kin as India was starved of such goodies

Today it like taking coal to Lancashire as almost everything is available there and sometimes with better choices too !

As I was packing today for my trip tomorrow my friend Biju came to put some items in a carton and pack it neatly .

Biju was an expert in so many things and neat packing was his forte ,and he was a boon to a clumsy person like me

As we packed Biju was recounting on the yesteryear Dubai when packing was an event by itself .

It was called Pettikattal or tying the bags !

most of them used to use cartons to pack all the nitty gritty they bought and there were some experts who were sought after for the act .

This was very common among the workers who used to go home once in say two or three years and had a lot to pack

The D Day was usually the eve of departure and many friends used to come to the room of the person who was going home for the pettikattal event .

some experts even came long distances for it ,

It would begin usually in the dusk and many would be fortified by a peg or two ,there would be hoots of laughter at the selection of things bought and the traveller would be the butt of many jokes ,it was a happy occasion indeed for all including the friends who werent going as they anticipated thier D Days and it would end with a sumptous dinner and lot of back tapping .

some experts in pettikattal prided that the bags they packed were never opened by the customs ! ( rememebr those were the days that the customs stripped all bags and left it like that so much so that the bag owner disgusted at the long act of waiting and worry over paying duty just put them all together in heap and lugged them home )

One hardly finds such incidents these days !

I asked one of the old timers about this pettikattal as it intrigued me ,

Mr Ummer a Gulf vetran working in Abudhabi university told me during pettikattal some even put old torn underwears , old khuboos or torn lungies along with the packed items so that the friend got an emabarassing shock when he unpacked them in front of an adoring family !

there was lot of fun and frolic and it was a gay event indeed .

so today with my "pettikattal "over I thought i will pen this before I start home tomorrow !

what is in a name ?

A rose by any other name is still a rose !

But still a name is a name .

In Advaita philosophy life itself and all of us are just illusions and our existence is described by that wonderful term MAYA which has no equal in the queens language and so our names and ourselves are actually quite worthless .

But for a mere mortal like me Advaithic thoughts dont come in the way of name attachment .

We are so much used to our names that we see ourselves as a projection to our names

All of us are happy when somebody calls us or remembers us by name

This has been one of the oldest tricks in the chicken soup for your soul business !

Remember names to keep winning in life .

With an inborn amnesia bordering on the early Alzheimers for me name remembering exercises have been one mostly of embarassaments and fiascos .

To make a long story short this post is all about my name and its mutations after coming to the gulp sorry Gulf .

I always knew myself as Harimohan

( heard my parents wanted only Hari but added the appendage to please a friendly neighbourhood longnose who insisted on adding Mohan ...now why should he do that ? ).

So I got a Mohan as a tail due to no fault of mine .

Hari with Mohan is not very common but Hariharans ,Harikumars and Harikrishnans grew wild like weeds specially down in the south .

There are lot of Punjabis who were Harmohans I heard .

Neither my appearance nor outlook would fit a burly sardar or a brawn muscled Panjabi Jat.

Iam neither tall nor sturdy and would would describe myself as a podgy spectacled wimp who could never ever burst into a Bangra on hearing balle .balle .

( I have just 2 left legs you see ).

I did search Harimohans in Google and surprisingly found that the first few searches were on me and my blog ( you can try it ).

There was a Harimohan.p who was a writer

well I liked that .

After all all Harimohans dont end up dreaming to become writers ,

some also do so !

I did contact this Harimohan and he was nice of enough to reply to me and keep in touch .

Now I am coming to the heart of the matter which is to dwelve upon the mutilations my name suffered the last three years .
I work in Tawam hospital run by the Johns hopkins group .

It has a resonable sprinkling of humanity from all corners of the earth as its staff

( they say around 80 countries ! ).

The day I joined here they called me into the office by the name Dr Narayanan as my passport shows me as Narayanan Harimohan ( Narayanan is my fathers name )

I ignored the call for some time before enlightment dawned on me and then sauntered in creating the impression of having an auditory disability .

Slowly friends and colleagues started calling me Hari .

Formally I was Dr.Harimohan.

The Filipino nurses who were in abundance generally spoke in thier tingling high pitched tones converting names to thier Legalo language .

To them I was Harimona !

Monne in malayalam my mother tongue is an endearing adjective akin to darling so no issues there .

To the whites what could I be other than Haaaarry .

Some nurses made it a habit to call me Haarry potter !

my pot luck I should say

( in Malayalam potter is kosavan so it is Harry kosavan ......no no potters from Kerala dont hail from Serbia Kosova !)

The Arabs( syrians ,jordanians ,Algerians ,Morrocans ,Somalis ,Ethiopians ,Sudanese Iranians ,Iraqis you name them we have them )

like to call me Hani or Harith which are familiar to them .

I often got phone calls directed to my Iraqi friend and plastic surgeon Harith Al Ani

In the ER ,Hani was another physician who often got confused with me !

The South African nurses would sometimes would call me honey !

( Honey I would kill you if you give me more work )

The best part of it was in one formal letter I was even called Hairmohan .

Well that takes the cake for someone who doesnt have a lot of this crowning glory .

Narayanan and Hari both are lord Krishnas names .

How I fit the honour I dont know

I too have a roving eye like him but had never been so sucessful .

So all is not in a a name itself you know .

Down here people are called by the family and the fathers name .

Bin means son of ( like Osama Bin Laden .....Osama son of Laden )

So I would be Hari Bin Narayanan if I take from my father .

If it is from my paternal grandfather I would be Hari Bin Moose no no not mouse he was Parameswaran Moose an Ayurvedic phsyician ( The Mooses are a Namboothiri clan who have a penchant for medicine as thier profession )

some of his genes wouldhave been swimming in my professional chromosomes !

If I take from my maternal grandfather I would have been Hari Bin Raja

That sounds a bit pompous ,but he was P.C.Manavedan Raja of Padinjara Kovilakam Mankavvu Calicut ( Iam showing off you see )

Thankfully Iam nothing of these

I am still your plain old Hari

Bye

onam pon onam

Onam pon Onam …Onam song by me …
….


Once upon a time my dear friends
There lived a king called Mahabali ,says legend
He was a wise man ,powerful ,handsome and fair
To find one like him it was very very rare



But the Devas got envious and all green
So they went to Lord Krishna with words so mean
Krishna knew their tricks but still went to Mahabali
Dressed as a humble dwarf Brahmin ,you see



He asked for just three foot of land
And did his magic again without a wand in his hand
He placed his two foots and took all worlds and the third  on the kings head not on the sand
So the king went down to moksha with no ceremony or band



Kerala ……, today still has its kings
After all it is Gods own land as everyone sings
They are mostly red but come in all colour
Some are good but most are an inborn terror
,and definitely an unmitigated error !



God placed his foot on the king that day
Todays kings do it too ,only it is the other way
They hypnotise mesmerise and incite with their speeches
At the same time they  suck us like leeches



Every other day the state of Kerala has a hartal
To many Malayalees it is great way to have a ball
Wherever you look there are bottles ,drunks and bars
The Mallu  needs his drink to make his wars



 The days of whisky and rum  are over
A tussle and fight and bars closed as one got clever 
so  long ques in the beverage outlet
in warm sunshine or rainy wet



 Back to the lorries of smuggled  spirit
and hooch distilled bit by bit
every road leads to Mahe straight
where for the glass one  dosn't wait




Zindabad zindabad ,nengide aykyam zindabad cry our millions
While terrorists ride   on pillions
Castes ,religions and  Gods are used to split  many
They come in hundreds  cheap as a penny…
…

Kerala has its mafia kings and goonda goons
Who cut  hands and heads into half moons
No industry or factory ever comes Keralas way
Are we fools to invest here they say ?



Known as the most literate state in the country
Full of hills rivers and green trees
Beautiful scenery and more beautiful women
To be out into the  top of the ten




But you see we are  doomed
Because of our petty politics  entombed
We have become a state stale and stinking
And like the Titanic we are sinking


Many amongst us fly out
by air as there are no more boats
mostly populating Arab lands
we work hard make money and buy lands


But in our own state we never work
we do all to laze and shirk
we are the only place in the world duly
that charges for work looking ...nokku cooly



Is there hope in the horizon ?
For a new Kerala for yours and my son
For them does the future hold any fun ?
Or should they also make a a fast run



Rise oh dear Mallu from your inebriation
Be aware that todays kings are spoiling the nation
Think like the genius you are man, not  like a mouse
The only way to go is to get awake and arouse



Give them the message this Onam ,hey you stop fooling
Don’t mess with me and  no more drooling
Rule me well and I will adore you all day and night
But make a fool of me  and I will fight



Let us become krishnas from today
Let us show our foot I say
This onam the Message is cut and clear
That is to become smart and slick my dear





Happy onam to all of you



harimohan

Peepli Live .....movie review

Aamir Khan is always associated with movies which arent run of the mill

This time he is only a producer and never shows up on screen .

" Peepli live "directed by former NDTV journo Anusha Rizvi focuses on rural India with so much reality that it sounds and looks more like a documentary than a commercial hindi film .

From the main actors to the rest of the cast it is authenticity taken to so much perfection that people who are not used to that world at times find it a bit unedible .

But then 70 % of India lies in its underbelly which is slimy and unslick . One cannot wish this away

The movie is all about farmers commiting suicide ,a nice take off not a serious exposition on the subject which makes it intresting .

Natha one of two brothers and the simpleton is drawn into committing suicide so that his family would get the compensation of one lakh offered by the Government for suiciding farmers !

The news of his plan gets out and the media is on his doorstep suddenly Natha becomes a celebrity and even his morning shit is breaking news !

With elections around the politicians too make thier pitch and the bureacrats present themselves to Natha with several schemes , the first one is a Lal Bahadur which incidentally is a huge green handpump which is placed in the middle of a room his small house but without any water connection ( typical of Government schemes which are a lot of show and only benifit the donors by way of contract scams in buying them in bulk )the film meanders along with Nathas impending death becoming a national conversation piece

In the end it all ends strangely with the pun on the media itself

I liked it because for one it exposes the reality but as an entertainment it would sadly fall

The satire is brilliant ,to me that was enough .

Clash of the Titans

They say it is every mans fantasy to have two wives ,of course the barrage faced would be twice indeed !

After coming to UAE I have two ........to help me in the housework

Before you gasp , let me hasten to add that both are safely men .

Again before you gasp ! and start supecting things ........

One is for cleaning the house and the other is for cooking my food

The cleaning boy comes weekly twice ( moonlighting for a few extra dirhams )

He is from somewhere near Trichi in Tamilnadu ,working in Alain in a small restuarant he was referred to me by my neighbour

he has been a very trustworthy and reliable person ,

he has a key to my flat and comes when he has time ,this mostly twice a week and it is a pleasant feeling for me to come back to a neat squeeky clean flat with the cleaner nowwhere in the vicinity.

Gopal was honest ,and would not touch a coin found on the floor or anywhere else

He also had great tricks up his sleeve ,

Once my flat was invaded by an army of small pests and he brought a brown paste which he smeared in some places and by the next day there was no living thing in the flat except me

Of course Gopal had no tricks for many pests who used to drop in for a chat

The other man in my flats life was Pillachettan ,

This archetypical middle aged balding malayalee from Ambalapuzha worked in my hospital as a plumber ,

He too was a honest person ,as honest as they come

one day he homed in to me in the hospital as a bee to a flower and asked me

" saare saarunu cook venno ? "which in my lingo means " do you need somebody to cook for you Apparently I had no starved look for attracting the attention of a part time chef like him ,

never had one ,on the contrary some say these days I look like a fattended pig ready for the slaughter ,So it was not the appearance which attracted his attention to me ,

Probably it was the innate sixth sense that comes to cookers of food to lovers of the daily bread

One thing I love as much as writing is eating !

of course you cant expect me to confess my other likes in a blog ..........please rest not your imagination let it travel far and wide

To make the long story short Pillachettan was anointed without fanfare as my official cook on that great day as he recounted his culinary skills ,

Many days he would go off to my flat by afternoon armed with my key when I was still in the hospital and in an hour or two do his magic

he would fill my fridge with delicaies to last for a couple of days .

All fine

everyone happy

But one day the inevitable happened

The clash of the Titans

It so happened (as I heard later ) that Gopal was furiously cleaning my bedroom when he heard a key click and someone opening the front door ,

with a surfiet of dishum dishum movies Gopal like anyone from Tamilnadu felt he was Rajinikanth in such situations and so quitely slid into James bond mode to have a look .

He found a capped fellow slinking into the kitchen ,drinking a cup of water removing his shirt and start cutting onions !!!!

He had never met pillachettan and had forgotten my telling him that that such a character would occasionaly grace the place

Gopal was hard put to place any burglar who would cut onions without a shirt as soon as he entered a house

Maybe thieves did such acts of faith as a good omen before they start thier hard work

Gopal was not one to ponder over cut onions by crooks during crisis times

He just armed himself with a convinient stick for he knew the other guy had a knife in his hands and would be as pleased with a neck to place it instead of an onion .

Daay yaruda neee daay ( who re you ? )

"Ente ammo "this from a surpirsed Pilla ,

having grown up with Yakshi stories in his childhood Pilla was startled at this apparition in front of him who was swinging a stick

nee arruda ? kallana ( who re you ) are u a thief ?

Nee kallan nente appan kallan nente pattan kallan this from Gopal who would leave no stone unturned when it came to his family and its honour

They stared at each other for a long minute before they did anything

There was tension in the air and static crackled

distant thunder was rumbing in the desert sands

suddenly pillachetan had the wisdom of age to say

Dey nee gopala alle ?Saaru paranju ( sir told me about you )

And thus it all ended in a great show of camaraderie between my two worker bees as the identity crisis blew over with better introductions

And so this ends the story of the clash of my titans