Hartals @ Kerala

It is a pity that we are allowing unscrupulous people masquerading in the guise of politicians and party workers to run our lives, to rule it and to ruin it in whatever way they please. All these hartals and related inconveniavces that we Malayalees are facing is the result of just that... our magnanimous and tolerant attitude!

Sad to read about the forest office in wynad which was attacked by miscreants yesterday (dont know if I need to call them party workers) and set on fire in protest against the Kasturirangan report. What an ideal way of registering protests!

All this and much more inspite of the fact that the CM has assured people that he is initiating discussions with the Centre in this regard and that he would not let anyone be evicted from their homelands. I guess the only people who need worry is the huge land and mining mafia who are making illegal profits from our protected and eco-sensitive areas. And I particularly dont feel the need to stand up for their selfish causes especially by bringing Kerala to a grinding halt or by tolerating violence of any sort.

Hartals have been so misused in Kerala that I am sure most of us do not even consider it a means of peaceful protest anymore. Instead it is more in the line of violating the democratic rights of citizens by holding their freedom at gun point. Is there any instance in recent years where a hartal has achieved its purpose other than fostering a few egos?

I dont know if the CM will be able to convince the opposition to back out from tomorrows hartal;  in case the hartal is on, I dont know just how many unlucky people are going to be stranded on the roads, how many KSRTC buses are going to be destroyed and how many more govt offices are going to be razed, and life and property destroyed.

Dont get me wrong. I am just a peace loving ordinary citizen of this land who still believes in the power of behaving in a civilized manner.

Amar Chitra Kathas and Childhood

 

My love affair with the Amar Chitra Katha series started from a very early age.

 Like most other children of the early 70’s, my life too was made immensely colorful by the umpteen stories that revolved around invincible Gods and Godesses, devas, asuras, rishis, national heroes, and brave warriors. Thanks to my parents, I had steadily built up a solid collection of these treasured books and I would eagerly lap them up on hot summer afternoons, reclining on the walls of the cool corridor of our small ancestral village house. Siesta time for the elders, It was reading time for me since there seldom were other children to play with. So the various characters in the books, especially the mythological ones like Krishna, Rama, Draupadi, Sudama, Sita, Parashurama, Drona, Karna, etc became alive in my own special imaginary childhood world.

My subsequent journey through life took me away from that simple old house overlooking a big pond, where I had entrusted the small leather trunk filled with my precious books in the care of my grandmother. Every time I got a chance to visit my grandmother, the first thing I would do was to rush to the trunk which was kept on top of a stone ledge in a room upstairs. The whole ritual of opening the box with a rapidly beating heart, taking a quick inventory of the books stacked neatly, turning the pages slowly, and drinking in the damp, musty smell which could possibly have been a mix of evaporated naphthalene balls and old paper, gave me a sense of pure bliss and I would revel in it for as long as possible. But during one of my periodic visits, I was heartbroken and inconsolable to discover my cherished Amar Chitra Katha comics totally destroyed by termites.

Over the years, my interest in Indian mythology and history deepened and I got to know more about my favorite topics and more through other authoritative books. But surprisingly, even today, when I think of a character in the Puranas, I automatically associate it with the small but precise illustrations in the Amar Chitra Katha which had so influenced my childhood days.

This morning as I was cleaning up my bookshelf, I came across an old issue of Amar Chitra Katha which I had brought a long time back for my son, that being the reason for this pleasurable trip through memory lane…

 

Victim Speak

Just recently I was reading about Rahul Gandhi’s speech in Rajastan where he has referred  to the assassinations of his grandmother and father, and also the possibility of his being killed in the same manner.  First of all, let me clarify that I am not a political critic, but being a person who is still able to empathize, I certainly feel sorry for the person who definitely would have undergone a lot of trauma from a young age.

In no way am I referring to his oratorical or management skills or his credibility or financial assets or love affairs or even his current job as a Congress leader. Like a lot of my fellow Indians, I agree that there is much more he needs to do to prove his mettle politically, and win the trust of the people. But seeing him verbally assaulted in this manner and brought down to the level of a ‘buddhu’ or ‘pappu’, I certainly feel sorry for the person that is Rahul Gandhi , who seems to be a victim of circumstances. True, he has lived in the lap of luxury lifelong and is part of a political dynasty that may not be digested by many, but all that comes to my mind when I think of him is the phrase, ‘poor little rich boy’.

Speaking about victims, my dears, it certainly looks like we Indians are a sadistic lot when it comes to victimizing victims.  Mind you, I am not just talking about those unfortunate people who are victims of major physical crimes. I am also referring to people like you and me who may be victimized emotionally and psychologically for a word or action taken unwittingly.  We could be victims at school, at the work place, in the bus, at a public gathering, or even in our own houses.

But irrespective of the degree of victimization, what I feel is that we belong to a peculiar culture that has generated our own effective ways of dealing with the sufferings of victims.  We believe in taunting, demoralizing and demeaning them thoroughly mostly using weapons of words which force them to remain victims throughout their lives.  Never mind the age, gender, or sex of a victim; never mind the magnitude of their sorrows or troubles; never mind their circumstances or reasons as to why they were victimized; we are proficient in offering them not just our generous sympathies, but we also make sure to judge, criticize, condemn, warn, taunt, moralize, sermonize, and watch over them all their lives just to make sure that they never ever forget the fact that they are victims.

Coming back to Rahul Gandhi, as a young politician, he may or may not be able to survive this massive onslaught by over eager Indians belonging to various political categories and idealism, but as an individual who i feel is ‘more sinned against than sinning’, i hope he finds his peace sometime in life...

I am a responsible voter.

My responsibility as a voter ends on the ballot day.

My constitutional duty actually takes the shape of a sort of innate excitement that begins a few weeks before the elections. With much amusement, I observe the days of frenzied activity, where prospective candidates and political supporters, diligently and respectfully make the rounds of individual houses, parks, or other public places, extolling their virtues and the opponent’s vices.

 I enjoy watching these wanna- be leaders literally bend backwards to impress voters of their sincerity, integrity, purity, and efficiency.   Like the vast majority of the names in the voters list, I too entertain their personal requests of a vote with a smile and nod, and listen patiently as they assure me of non interrupted water supply or tarred roads in my residential colony or tackling the mosquito menace effectively if they are voted into power.

As an educated voter, I don’t bother to find out if the candidate is qualified enough to meet my expectations. I never find out about his educational or professional qualifications. I don’t speak to him about the reason why he has entered politics. I don’t talk to him about his dreams for the constituency.  I never bother to discuss the various strategies he may (should) have devised to redress the grave issues faced by the current society. I merely accept the printed election manifesto and pamphlets handed out to me and once I shut the door after the group leaves, I nonchalantly dump it on the side table without a second glance, where it gets buried under a load of other similar unwanted stuff which soon ends up in the rubbish bin.

The day of the election, I accompany my family to the nearby school which has been allotted to us as per the election commissioner’s directives, and take pride in the dark mark on the nail of my forefinger which is proof of the fact that I have discharged my constitutional duty as a responsible, adult citizen of this great democratic nation.

Till the next ballot which could be a good many years away, I take full opportunity of my constitutional right to freedom of speech to grumble, whine, complain, criticize, mock, and voice out my concerns to others, the majority of who fall in my same category.  At the end of it all, I resign myself to a condemned life at the hands of corrupt leaders, be one with the echo of voices who are eloquent to proclaim that ‘our country would soon go to the dogs’!

And the self same comfortable cycle continues every five years.

I guess I am a responsible voter...

I Have A Dream...

Thank you, Dr.Martin Luther King jr. for the abundance of positive energy today.

 It is the 50^th year of the iconic ‘I have a dream’ speech of King, and even though half a century has elapsed, the powerful words of this brilliant orator still exudes the same influence and motivation as before.

Come to think of it, isn’t there a raw power in his words, ‘I have a dream’? I felt so, especially as I read through his speech this morning. I just love hearing powerful orators who motivate and inspire and I must say that I was roused by the powerful words of this timeless orator, who filled me up with hope and goodness, not mention a wonderful energy.

I know I am just an insignificant, common citizen of this nation, but that doesn’t stop me from dreaming and hoping… for better days to come.

I dream that one day, we would be living in a corruption free land where people are not influenced in any manner by money or fame or any other criteria.

I dream that one day we will enjoy democracy in its truest form, and will be led by educated and enterprising leaders who will lead our nation to pinnacles of glory.

I dream that one day my country will not be divided on the basis of caste, creed, color, sex, religion, or political affiliation.

I dream that one day all Indians respect each other’s rituals and religions and live happily in tolerance.

I dream that one day we will learn to value and adhere to the laws of the land.

I dream that one day women would be treated with respect and will not be looked upon as mere objects of man’s lust.

I dream that one day my country would be self sufficient in its agricultural produce and that my countrymen would never go hungry.

I dream that one day our children would respect nature and its bounty, and replenish this land with the greenery that it deserves.

It is my hope, it is my faith, that one day the future would be ours. But instead of dreaming alone, why don’t we make it a collective dream and steadily work towards it?

Join me in my dreams… United we can!!!

The Friday Persona

Come Friday morning and he used to be present at our gates for alms. In fact, his visits were so regular that very often we used to realize the dawn of a Friday only by his presence. Lanky and dark, the shabby man well past his prime was always dressed in a tattered lungi and a full shirt which had seen better days. A makeshift bag created from old scraps of cloth was slung down his stooping shoulders. Perhaps it held all his worldly possessions that had been painstakingly collected through the passage of time…With an unsteady gait the bent skeletal figure tightly gripped the metal frame of the gate as though for support, and rattled the latch so as to announce his arrival to the household.

More than the sound made by the rattling of the latch, it was a deep hollow cough which made us aware of his arrival. As I went out with a few rupees in my hands, I would often witness acute spasms of dry, racking cough that would hit his frail body causing him to gasp for breath. He would accept the money that I handed out to him, acknowledge his gratitude by raising his bony hands to his forehead and depart as insignificantly as he came.

Some Fridays, he would be looking very ill, and as I went out to give him money, he would show me a medical prescription, indicating the need to buy medicines.  Some other days, it would be a wound on his leg which required a doctor’s attention. Then I had to go back to get some more money that I would hand over to him. But sometimes, in my hurry to finish off the morning’s chores before starting off to work, I would willfully choose to ignore the plea in his eyes. I would then see him slowly head towards other homes in our locality, anticipating the generosity of yet another household.

It has been a few months since his visits stopped and often I wonder why he seems to have disappeared… Could it be that he is too ill to move about to make money for his daily bread?
Could it be that he has relocated to another place to visit other homes every Friday?
Or could it be that he has finally found a blissful release from the miseries of this world?

Wish I knew….

Waiting and Watching

A doctor's clinic is one of those places where I normally dread to go. Regardless of whether I am the patient or whether I am accompanying one, I usually have to undergo a waiting period ranging from half an hour to more, depending on the long queue ahead before I get to meet the doctor. I am not complaining because the one advantage of this long wait is that I can freely observe human nature and its various nuances. And i tell you, it is really interesting...

 For one, it is amusing to watch people take an interest in the affairs of the other. There is a particular category which compulsively strikes up conversation with the person sitting alongside (usually a lady). Questions usually begin with her particular ailment and can progress to the topic of the best shop where one can get the freshest brinjals at a fair price! The gullible victim who is none too eager to pour out her miserable life following a persistent cough, has in no time revealed her entire family history including details of spouse, kids, in laws, neighbors, the cow, cat, dog, and a whole lot of personal stuff without realizing that it has been heard by the entire humanity assembled there...

Then again, there is another category who are commonly known as hypochondriacs. They suffer from some imaginary disease or the other and believe in changing doctors frequently because in their opinion, the previous doctor was not expert enough to diagnose their ‘serious’ medical condition. These people invariably ramble on about the irresponsibility and unreliability of ‘these new-age doctors’ to an unresponsive audience composed of bored and restless patients who are impatiently waiting for their turn.

The third category is usually older men who are mostly seen accompanying the patient who in most cases would be their wives or mothers. Totally unsympathetic and impatient to the woes of their groaning spouses, these enthusiastic people are full of ears for the tales of agony of the other suffering souls in the waiting area. That’s not all, since this particular category consider themselves to be uncrowned experts in the field of medicine, one can expect a whole lot of advices like managing diabetes by drinking a daily dose of red chillies boiled in water to which a few neem leaves has been added  to running barefoot on sand to counter chronic osteoarthritis!

Another genre of people often similar in status to the ones mentioned above are those who absolutely think the worst of every medical condition, except their own. Totally obsessed with pessimism, these people firmly believe in scaring the already frightened patient out of their skins. I actually heard a man who had accompanied his ailing wife talk to an elderly lady who inadvertently revealed that she was suffering from a wound on her foot which was taking time to heal due to her diabetes. He vehemently told her in no uncertain terms that she was suffering from the same fate as one of his relatives who ultimately had to amputate his leg!

Oops! Here comes an elderly lady to occupy the seat next to mine, with a dangerous glint in her eyes that truly belongs to the second category. Guess I need to make my escape…

Of Telegrams & More...

The telegram had been an integral part of India’s communication network till perhaps a few decades back. Now that BSNL is going to discontinue its telegraphic services from July 15, 2013, yet another popular service of the yesteryears is going to be buried forever…

It was a bygone era where telegrams were very much in vogue. A harbinger of urgent information, telegrams normally brought in the news of a relative’s death or the arrival date of the homecoming of a son who lived far away. Similarly, illness of a close relative, request to come home for a ‘bride-seeing’ ritual, victory in examinations, birth of a child, etc used to be communicated to various relatives through the humble telegram. 

The sight of the sincere village postman walking frantically to the address of the recipient followed by a hoard of curious children was a scene to behold, according to my mother, and quite often, the curious onlookers would be satisfied only after the recipient opened the pink flap with shaky hands and perspiring brows to finally react as per the information contained in it. Good news would be rewarded by a generous tip to the person who delivered it, and news of a death or serious condition of a relative, it went without saying, would start off a spate of heartrending wails by the ladies of the house. Very soon, the whole village would have assembled there to pacify and sympathize with the bereaved family members.

The present world, with its instant communication services will certainly not miss the telegram, but reading the news of it being discontinued, I felt a vague sense of loss… a feeling which was brought about by the fact that yet another chapter has been relegated to the pages of history…

RIP

A Few Random Twilight Thoughts

As the sun rides its golden chariot towards the western horizon, as the graying sky quietly unfolds its myriad hues, gradually giving way to an all enveloping darkness, my mind goes through a variety of emotions which takes me through childhood memories, old and precious…

Twilight, for me, is a happy childhood memory of the short time spent at my small village which holds my roots… My ancestral house which stood proudly by the huge, magnificent pond; the small Aiyappa temple on one side of the pond, the reflection of the steadily burning flame of the temple lamp on the water of the pond as it moved in ripples, the fragrance of fresh sandalwood paste given with fresh flowers on green banyan leaves, and the mystical chime of the brass temple bell during the time of the evening pooja… To this day, twilight temple visits leave me with the same intense memory and my mind feels utmost restful.

Twilight, for me, reminds me of lonely evenings I spent as a child in a far away boarding school, looking forlornly at the cold, grey sky, filled with longing for the proximity of my family. How I hated the Tamil devotional songs which blared from a nearby temple… Even today, those particular hymns evoke in me a sort of melancholy that is hard to get over…

Twilight, for me, reminds me of those days bygone, where under the watchful eyes of our grandmother we had to recite aloud various prayers in front of the lighted lamp or ‘nilavilakku’.  It was here that I got introduced to the forms of various Gods and Goddesses, through the assorted pictures that adorned the walls of the narrow corridor. Some days, we would be told stories from religious scriptures too, which no doubt enhanced my interest towards mythology…

Twilight, for me, is the sight of the innumerable flock of homing birds as they make their way in an orderly manner to destinations unknown. The inverted ‘V’ like formation never fails to captivate me even today, as I tilt my head up and eagerly lap up the sight.

Twilight, for me, is also the overwhelming view of the fire in the majestic mountains that are far away, leaving a bright golden line within the dark silhouette, gradually fading away into nothingness…

Twilight, for me, is total spirituality. It’s a time when I feel the desire to be with myself and my thoughts… a time to recharge and re-energize… to introspect and make amends. For me, it is the time where i feel totally at peace with myself and the whole world….

Memories of a bygone era...

This morning I was pleasantly surprised to hear the loud call of a man who sharpens knives and scissors, in our residential locality. Carrying a wooden contraption on his frail

shoulders onto which was affixed a grinding wheel for sharpening knives, he went around expectantly from door to door, offering his services…

Dressed in a shabby ankle length check lungi and an off- white, frayed, full shirt which had definitely seen better days, the dark man with a weather beaten look about him went about with drooping shoulders and a defeated demeanor . I doubt if his visit to our locality was worth it. In these days where knife sharpeners are available readily in any departmental store, I guess people like him may find it hard to make a living out of their dying profession…

Come to think of it, these days, a lot of professions seem to be fast disappearing. I remember till about a couple of decades or so, just before the onset of the monsoons, men used to go about repairing umbrellas and bags. Similarly, cobblers too with shabby bags filled with tools and spares were a common sight as they sat in front of houses, re-stitching broken straps or soles, and sometimes even reconstructing the whole slipper which was often in pretty bad shape.  

Then there were dusky Tamil ladies with kids in tow, who used to go about asking if households wanted their grinding stones redone (Ammi Kothal) or copper vessels lined with lead without which it couldn’t be used (Iiyam pooshal). Aluminum and stainless steel vessels of all shapes and sizes were carted around on a bicycle by vendors who often traded it for old clothes… My own grandmother, like many other ladies of her times, had a hobby of buying such vessels from these people and took great pride over her collection!

I have no doubt that many such professions have passed away to give way to a developed nation with its modernistic views and attitudes. Such changes are inevitable too. But once in a while when I see such a person from the past, I can’t help taking pleasure in the feeling of familiarity which dotted my childhood days…

Thrissur Pooram

One of the most colourful temple festivals of Kerala, the spectacular Thrissur Pooram was introduced by the erstwhile Cochin Maharaja, Sakthan Tampuran (Ravi Varma 1751-1805), and is celebrated in the Malayalam month of Medom (April-May). Spanning a duration of about 36 hours, this illustrated festival of Kerala is referred to as the ‘Pooram of Poorams’ and is witnessed by lakhs of enthusiasts irrespective of religion or creed.

The word ‘pooram’, in Malayalam, literally means a group or a meeting. It is thought that during the Thrissur Pooram, Gods and Goddesses of neighbouring provinces get together to pay their respects to the Lord Vadakkunnathan.

History of the Thrissur Pooram

The Trissur Pooram is said to have originated as a symbol of liberation from the oppressive caste system practiced in ancient Kerala. The higher castes represented by the Namboothiris ruled over Kerala autocratically. The efforts of Prince Ravi Varma (Sakthan Thampuran) brought an end to this repressive state of affairs.

It is believed that once upon a time, the largest temple festival of Central Kerala took place at Aaraattupuzha, where the smaller temples from in and around Thrissur eagerly participated in the festivities. But this practice was hindered by the aristocratic Namboothiri supremacy which put an end to the custom and denied entry to these temples. In such a situation, Prince Ravi Varma, who was the then ruler of Cochin State, invited these temples to Thrissur to pay their respects to Lord Vadakkunnathan, the presiding deity of the majestic Vadakkunnathan temple. The two other main temples of Thrissur, the  Thiruvambadi Sri Krishna temple and the Paramekkavu Bhagavathy temple were instructed to provide all help and support to the visiting temples. Thus Sakthan Thampuran succeeded in putting a stop to the Namboothiri domination.

The pooram has continued to be a tradition of Trissur since then and even today, it goes on as per the prescribed age-old customs and traditions. The much popular episodes of the Pooram namely the `Madathil Varavu', `Elanjithara-Melam', `Thekkottirakkam' and `Kudamattom' are conducted with much vigour and vitality.

Religious Significance of the Trissur Pooram

The Thrissur Pooram is considered to be the festival of the common masses in all respects. People from all walks of life irrespective of religion, caste, or creed gather to witness the spectacular festivities on the day of the pooram.   

In this prominent temple fair held on the grounds of the Vadakkunnathan temple at Thrissur (Thekkinkadu Maidanam), two rival groups representing the Thiruvambadi Sri Krishna temple and the Paramekkavu Bhagavathy temple fiercely compete with each other in showcasing their capabilities.

The Thrissur Pooram commences with the ezhunellippu (procession) of the Kanimangalam Shastha in the morning to the Vadakkunnathan temple followed by another ezhunellippu of six other minor temples. Totally, ten deities from in and around Thrissur pay their respects to the Lord Vadakkunnathan during the Pooram.

Elephant Power

Think Thrissur Pooram, and immediately the image that comes to our mind are those of magnificently caparisoned pachyderms majestically lined up in all their glory!

Elephants are an unavoidable part of the Thrissur Pooram and the best of the lot from the length and breadth of the state are specially brought to grace the occasion. Both the Thiruvambadi and Parammekkavu factions compete heavily in this aspect and make full use of the rules which allow a display of a maximum of fifteen elephants each. The sight of these impressive creatures in all their ornate decorations, making their way through the milling crowd and lining up on the temple grounds is indeed spectacular, and is witnessed not just by Malayalee enthusiasts, but also a lot of national and international tourists who reach Thrissur specifically on this day.

 

As part of the Pooram celebrations, the decorations to adorn the elephants (aana chamayam) are prepared well in advance each year by both the Thiruvambadi and Paramekkavu temple boards, to be displayed to the eager public prior to the Pooram. (Aana Chamayal Pradarshanam).

Kudamaattom

The `Kudamaattom' or display of decorated parasols atop the majestically lined up elephants are yet another colourful aspect of the world famous Thrissur Pooram. This particular event is highly competitive in nature and is a matter of prestige for the Thiruvambadi and the Paramekkavu temples, who fiercely compete with one another in putting up the best display of parasols. The Kudamattom brings about deafening cheer and sighs of amazement from the awestruck spectators dazzled by the innovative and colourful exhibit.  The most amazing aspect of this show is that every year, both the temple wings bring in newer models for exhibition that are an epitome of creativity.

Various Pooram paraphernalia along with the decorated parasols are also put up on display during the Aana Chamayam Pradarshanam held prior to the Thrissur Pooram.

Panchavaadyam

The liveliness and spirit of the festivities during the Thrissur Pooram is enhanced manifold by the alluring effect of the ‘Panchavadyam’. Maestros in the respective fields are roped in by the two competing temple factions and the result is pure magic! The sight of multitudes flaying their arms and swaying their heads to the beat of the music is indeed a fantastic sight. No other festival in Kerala draws such an unbelievable crowd to a single event.

Display of Fireworks

The Thrissur Pooram ‘Vedikettu’ or display of fireworks is undoubtedly one of the much looked forward to attractions of this unique temple festival of Kerala. Both the factions of the Thiruvambadi as well as the Paramekkavu temples are always known to  put up a spectacular firework display.

Thousands of people throng the venue and nearby areas just to witness the innovative and breathtaking firework display which starts some time after midnight and lasts to several hours at a stretch. A couple of days prior to the Thrissur pooram, a ‘sample vedikkettu’ or a sample display of fireworks are held, which is equally enthralling in its beauty.

Trissur Pooram – A cultural Bonanza

The Thrissur Pooram is considered to be the most popular temple fair of  Kerala.  Religious unity is the highlight of this world famous event and even though it is a Hindu temple festival, both the Muslim and Christian communities play a very prominent role in the celebrations.

Most of the pandals put up for the Pooram are the result of the indigenous craft work of related experts from the Muslim community who work untiringly months ahead of the festival.

For the two days of the festival, the CMS High School located on the western part of the Swaraj round and owned by the North Kerala Diocese of CST Church, is a hub of activity, being the headquarters of the Thiruvampadi Devaswam. The temple elephants are tethered in the school compound. The ‘Aana Chamaya pradarshanam’  prior to the Pooram is also held at this school. The decorated parasols for the ‘Kudamattom’ are said to be offerings by various churches!

At these times, when the secular fabric of the Indian society is slowly decomposing and the feelings of religious intolerance are swiftly on the rise, one cannot but admire the relevance of the Thrissur Pooram, which strives to bring all religious communities under one banner. 

God's Own Country!!!: Of Smartphones and Dumb Actions

God's Own Country!!!: Of Smartphones and Dumb Actions

Of Smartphones and Dumb Actions

Dhak..dhak..dhak…. DHAP!  Then total silence!

The first three words were the sounds of my heart beating as I saw my prized smartphone fly away from my hands  from the landing of the first flight of steps to the hard, merciless floor down below. (I can still recapture its entire flight in slow motion). The fourth word was how it sounded to my horrified ears as it landed with a harsh thud, face down, 12 feet below onto the ground. ..And then it was total silence for a few seconds after which a flurry of activity occurred that chiefly included an SOS scream for my son along with a mad race downstairs to pick up my phone which was fortunately still in one piece; but no amount of first aid could revive its ‘touch’ sensor without which it was practically useless for all I could understand…

For once, I had to stand shamefacedly under the stern glare of my 17 year old son who is the epitome of carefulness. (He still has his favorite childhood mechano set preserved intact and I suspect that the big box of partially used colorful oil pastels stashed away in his drawer is the same one I gifted him on his 7^th birthday…). My favorite one-liner, ‘Learn from your elders’ backfire royally as he scornfully says “how careless can you get? Isn’t this what I will learn from my mother?”  Any other time and I would have given him a look to silence, but seeing the semi-comatose gadget in my hand, which had been a lively companion just a few minutes back, I swallow the heartless jibes and set off to the service center with a heavy, but optimistic heart.

Problem one was tackled. The bigger problem now was getting a replacement phone till I got mine back. Unfortunately, I did not have any spare ones at hand and the only way of taking revenge at my son’s barbed comments was by getting him to lend his brand new blackberry (without a blackberry connection)… and grudgingly he did, especially since I had to travel for a few days and moreover since his exams are on, he is mostly at home these days with access to the landline. Sweet of him, you would say, but little did I know as to what I was getting into! I now had to account for every speck of dust which could be seen through a magnifying glass on his phone… and I also had to share my phone with him, the requirement of which could be at just about any unearthly hour of the day. Well, beggars can’t be choosers, as the saying goes…

This is only a small part of the story. Apart from the fact that I had become sort of handicapped due to the loss of all my contacts (for some mysterious reason, this blackberry phone refused to acknowledge the numbers and other data stored in my sim card), I realized I had got afflicted with another serious malady. I had heard about the withdrawal symptoms experienced by drug addicts and alcoholics. To my horror, I was experiencing something on those lines.  How would I live without accessing my Facebook account every 10 minutes? What would people think if I am not available online 24 hours a day on Gtalk? Oh my God! How will I talk with my skype contacts? How can I remain unconnected with my whatsapp and viber friends? How would I know the news, weather, and temperature of various parts of the world? Talk about panic buttons and alarm bells!!!

It has been two weeks since my ailing phone has been shifted to the ICU of another specialty service center, awaiting an organ transplant. Surprisingly, after the first few days of acute withdrawal symptoms, I find that life is not as bad as I thought. To my surprise, I realize that I am in touch with all my family and friends who matter; my various projects and work goes on without a hitch and I find that it is perfectly alright  if I am not an active part of the online community. But more importantly, I realize that I am not that important a person as I deemed myself to be and neither do I run this world.  I don’t have to be accessible to the whole world 24x7. And the greatest advantage of this revelation is that I have so much more time left on my hands which otherwise would have been spent in social networking sites unproductively, posting comments which don’t matter to people in the first place, reading and liking highly opinionated posts and going through umpteen number of inspirational quotes, status updates, pictures, and messages most of which, I doubt, makes little sense even to the person who has shared it…

I hope to get my mobile phone back in a few days time, but more than  that, I am hoping I would  be able to remember these precious lessons and consider the gadget as just an electronic device for my convenience and not something which I need to be dependent on for my survival…

“You have left my phone lying face down on the bed! What if it develops a scratch…?” There goes the monster of my son again... For once, I have to agree with the writing on his tee-shirt which goes “ Life was much easier when apple and blackberry were just fruits…”

Of Autograph Books and Memories…

As a mother of a 17 year old who is shortly leaving school, I find it pretty amusing to see him with a greatly prized possession these days… his autograph book!

I wish I had preserved my own autograph book of my school days. I remember I had three of them. One was a red plastic covered one with colored pages (we couldn’t get any fancy ones at Palakkad some 25 plus years back) which was reserved for special friends who had sentimentally recorded pages and pages of the entire history of our friendship; another similar blue slam book was given out to juniors and other acquaintances at school. The third one which was of a more fancy nature (something which my mother had got for me from abroad) was exclusively for my teachers.  Come to think of it, most of my teachers had penned down some great quote or proverb along with their wishes and how I wish I had understood the deeper meaning of those valuable words that time… Somewhere in the passing of time, my little autograph books lost their charm and value in my grown up world and got left behind someplace…

Times have undoubtedly changed. The e-communication revolution and the era of mobile phones are playing a great part in continuing friendship among school leaving children. The phrase ‘keep in touch’ no longer is said with a heavy heart, thanks to emails, skype, Facebook, Twitter, and other social networking sites. These children will never have to bear the pangs of separation like those of my generation, since they have an option to remain connected with each other no matter which part of the world they are in…

But unfortunately, they will never know the sweetness of discovering a long lost friend in Facebook, or getting a call from a classmate who has somehow managed to dig out your cell phone number to give you a late night surprise call 25 years down the road… They will never know the thrill of a school reunion decades later, where you bump into dozens of your classmates and friends whom you have never met since your school days… and most importantly, they will never ever experience the thrill of receiving a friend’s letter by post, tearing it open in a hurry and savoring the delicious lines word by word with a song in your heart…