Aeroplane and Tapioca

W

henever I ask my Dad, what he wanted from Bahrain when I go on vacation, I get the same answer always.   A fountain pen!!!

This time I asked what you do with these many pens rather than writing day to day books of accounts or occasional petitions to help the needy villagers.

You have got a good narrative skill as well as good handwriting. Why don’t you write something interesting? I asked..

I never thought I would be able to motivate and influence my Dad. To my surprise I got an envelope last week from my dad through post.

Yes he has started writing….He assured me he will continue writing Small-Small incidents that happened to him!!!!!!!

He wanted to fit the story in one page. So the climax of the story is in the margin

Please see below my Dad’s maiden Story.

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To the benefit of  those who doesn't Know Malayalam, the story is translated into English by one of my  Good friend, teacher and Philosopher Mr K Mohandas (www.kothandath.blogspot.com ).

Aeroplane and Tapioca

Dad’s younger days. 7 years old.   Primary school student of  2^nd standard, Malayalam class.  By today’s distance standards, 7 Kms to traverse from home to school.  Must leave home by 8 am. Breakfast was usually previous day’s rice, curd and mango pickles. Nothing extra for lunch.  In monsoon, we used to wear cap-like umbrellas fashioned from palmyra tree leaves; there were no  ‘POPPY-mark’ umbrellas or school bags like today.  When hungry during lunch time, my friend, Mani Variyar (now a reputed

ThoppiKuda(Cap Like Umbrella)

lawyer) will share with me the rice he brought, as a share of their entitlement from the temple under their care.

Returning from school, we used to pass by Kochapputty’s tapioca stall situated at the junction. He is the ‘aeroplane’ in my story.  How did he earn that name? In our primary school days, we children used to watch with excitement, an aero plane that always sped across the sky at about 11.30am that would disappear from sight at the wink of an eye.  Like this plane, he used to run across the shop, carrying a sack of tapioca, and that’s how he earned that name!

 While returning from school, the hungry children would gather in front of Kochapputty’s stall and he would throw small pieces of tapioca among the gathering that he would have stored for us, that we, including me, used to fight for.

One day, while coming from school, we saw Kochapputty’s stall open, but he was not in.  Pangan, seated near the stall, told us that Kochapputty fell down as he was running carrying a sack of tapioca. People gathered around and took him to the hospital.  From his hospital bed, he said, “My end has come. I won’t come back to the stall. Today you must give fine tapioca to the children returning from school”, and passed away, to another world.

Me and my Dad Sri S Vasudevan

If we were in America or Europe

It was a day in the mid of November in the 1950s.  The invention of Telephone, telegraph  along with the  widespread habit in people to read the newspapers and discuss the events happenings worldwide  over a cup of tea in tea shops and in the  Libraries had already made everyone feel that  the world  was  becoming smaller and smaller even in  those days. They discussed about the launch of Soviet satellite Sputnik, death of Joseph Stalin, creation of polio vaccine, Hungarian revolution, culture of western people, and many other varied range of interests.

                                                                                                                    

I do not know for sure whether, the time line actually matters for this story, but that was a day in the mid of November in the 1950s. Mid November has its own charm in Kerala. It’s the starting of the Malayalam month “Vrischika” which is considered as a holy month for the Sabarimala pilgrims and is the season of festivals in our geographical area.

                                                                                                                     

That day my Grandma and Grandpa had a fight at home for some petty issues which always is worldwide for domestic squabbles, and  in order  not to lose his temper my grandpa left home and went to his paddy farm to shoo away  the parrots and crows and to do some other work as well.

My grandma was considered as the “Iron Lady” of that area which is a small village called “Thottuva”. While for many a people, she was a problem solver, still more people considered her as a problem maker. Many have tasted her kind gestures while many others have tasted her bitter anger as she had her own ideologies.  For many of the petty issues in our neighborhood, she was the decision maker. Someone who bore the brunt of one of her decisions once murmured; “who is she to order things around here?  Is she the Magistrate of Thottuva?” and that’s how the name “Thottuva Magistrate” was bestowed upon   her. Till her death in 1983, she was carrying this name. After that the title was passed on to my sister Jayasree.

[To know more about my Grandma, I urge you to read the Malayalam Novel “Verukal” By renowned novelist Sri Malayattoor Ramakrishnan who was the younger brother of my grandma. That was his life’s story where he has portrayed his sister by the name “Amulu”]

On the contrary my grandpa was soft-spoken, kind and helpful and if you know me personally, it is not really necessary to describe my grandpa. ;-)

As my grandpa had returned, he was very hungry and had totally forgotten about the fight he had with grandma, asked her that what is there for breakfast. My grandma who decided not to cook anything for the day as she was still angry with grandpa told arrogantly; Go!! Have it from Raman Pillai’s Teashop.

Helpless and angry with hunger gnawing his stomach, he went and opened the rectangular wooden silos, where the Bananas are kept to ripen; took out some and satiated his hunger and relaxed for a while.

This was around 9 o’ clock in the morning. What can we call it telepathy or coincidence; Raman Pillai, the village Teashop owner appeared on the scene with a plea to my Grandma.

He was a short and fat guy and used to wear a single piece of towel which reaches up to his knees with  no shirt or anything to cover his upper torso.

He started the conversation.

Namaskaram!! Oh my lady, as you are aware, this is the festival season in our village and we are expecting a large crowd in the temple for next forty one days.

 Ok Raman, what can I do for you? My grandma interrupted.

I have opened a small tea stall near the temple and for that I would like to borrow some money from you for the initial expenses. I will be blessed if I can get one hundred rupees from such an auspicious lady? Raman pleaded. I shall return it by today evening; he added.

Ok Raman, Granted…… but you should return it by today evening. Grandma Said.

As Raman agreed the deal, grandma handed over a 100 Rupee note to him which he thankfully accepted and went off.

Raman's Teashop was famous for its unique taste of  snacks especially "parippuvada & sughiyan" were very tasty and famous.  My grandma too expected a good business for him in the season.

Whether my grandma cooked or not at that afternoon or whether my grandpa was still hungry; is out of scope of our subject now and my dear readers, you should not be curious about that.

In the evening Raman appeared at our gate which is about 50 meters away from the front yard of our home.

He was seemed to be happy and as he walks towards our home, he was literally measuring the width of the road due to the high “spirits” within him. He was humming a famous Hindi song of that time which he learned from the radio. Tucked under his arm was a brown cover wrapped with jute fiber. He reached our front yard with his body dripping with sweat; and stopped as if a fully loaded lorry climbing up the Himalayan Ghats had suddenly stopped.

As Raman reached our home, my grandpa called my grandma who was inside the home.

Hey!! Here comes Raman to meet you. He shouted looking inside the home.

Hearing this grandma reached our front yard.

Seeing my Grandma, Raman’s joys know no bounds and he bowed his head in front of her.

He took the brown cover from his underarm and offered it along with a currency note of Rs 100 and a One rupee Coin to Grandma and told her; Please accept these “Vadas” and “Chips” specially prepared for you.

My grandma was little reluctant to accept the Brown cover as she had noticed the place from where he had taken it, and at the same time she  didn’t  want to disappoint him also.  She asked him to keep the cover on the table.

 Oh my noble Lady Because of your token gift, I made a big profit today. Thank you so much and may you live long, Raman added with overwhelming happiness.

I had approached many people and nobody was willing to help me. But it  was you who  helped me out. Thank you, Good lady and I have no words to express my gratitude…………. And if we were re in America or Europe……….. ;; Paused Raman.

Out of curiosity; my Grandpa and Grandma in the same voice asked; Raman, If we were in America or Europe, what  would have  happened?

Raman was little reluctant to answer that, but hesitantly he completed the sentence.

Oh my good lady……. If we were in America or Europe………..Out of my happiness…………………….. I would have rather hugged and kissed you!!!!!

Saying this Raman burst in to tears.

Grandma’s face become red due to shyness and embarrassment, and my witty Grandpa who couldn’t hide his naughty smile, looked at his wife and then at Raman and told him.

Raman, now that world is becoming small and the good thing is that we can always adopt even from a kid. Now in your mind you think that, this place is America or Europe and ………………….

Due to the effect of village toddy already sloshing in his belly, Raman couldn’t balance himself for a second and he took a step forward and fumbled towards the side.

Grandma thought that Raman took the matter seriously and was coming towards her. She tried to frantically flee from the scene and banged her knee into a pillar and her knee was fractured.

For the next few weeks my Grandma couldn’t cook anything…..and  from Breakfast to dinner they had to buy everything from Raman’s Teashop.

Epilogue

During their next fight……Grandpa requested. “Amulu” Don’t curse. Last time you didn’t cook anything and cursed and shouted at me to have the food from Raman’s Shop. You don’t know when God is present in our conversation and say “Thadhastu*”(  so be it or your wish is granted). God granted your wish last time, and I too had suffered a lot for few weeks as we had to have the same sour stuff from Raman, It’s Just a suggestion Amulu

rajaramvasudev@gmail.com                                                                             24-11-2011
rajaramvasudev.blogspot.com

I Salute You!!!!

Today I met an attention-grabbing personality at my office, LIC international.

He came to my table with a service request and started speaking in Malayalam with a sort of North Kerala slang and I recognized him as a Malayalee. Before handing over the papers to me he got a phone call and he started speaking in Telugu without any “AAhs and Errs” and now I recognized him as a South Indian who can be a Malayalee as many of my friends fluently speak all south Indian languages like Tamil, Telugu, Kannada and Malayalam.

After the phone call, he handed over the papers to me, and to my surprise, the name and sign on the paper doesn’t match what I have expected as I was expecting a typical South Indian name.

I could not control my astonishment and I enquired and found out that he was born and bought up in, Thane, Maharashtra.

Ooh!!!… So you know Marathi too other than the South Indian Languages. I asked.

Yes……and he can speak Gujarati, Punjabi, Tulu, Konkani, Bhojpuri, Arabic and Hindi and a little bit English too. His friend who came along with him said.

After the man left; to complete the service request and little bit curious too to know further about him, I took his Policy file.

I found out that, he has studied only up to Matriculation and working as Crane Operator and drawing a small Salary.

  

Dear       Dada Rao Thaku Ingole,     I Salute You………

I recognize you not as a Malayalee or South Indian.

I recognize you as a True Indian.

Epilogue

Mr Dada Rao Thaku Ingole was looking tensed when he came to my table.

He told me he will be leaving Bahrain with in a day or two as the company has terminated him.

He showed me the termination letter which states the reason that, he took part in the strike against the Company Management.

I was not a party to it. He said

I was passing through the rage area and somebody took a photograph which later came to the notice of the Management. Along with the other 25 people who took part in the rage I also got terminated without seeking for explanation. He concluded

Mr Dada Rao came to my desk to transfer his policy to LIC of India.

If he happened to come to Bahrain again he will definitely come and meet me as his request can not be completed by me due to the regulations in the policy.

Too Sad....

rajaramvasudev@gmail.com

Red Chilies

Howzzaat!!!!. My Dad and his gang were      shouting in our TV room. That was 31 of October 1987, the historical day in world cup cricket. The up roaring was when Chetan Sharma took the wicket of Ken Rutherford. As an 11 year old boy, I was also eating, drinking and breathing cricket at that time. The idiom “Born with a silver spoon” can be re phrased as “Born with a cricket Ball” in my case.  But I seldom view a full length one day match as my friends wait for me to play two or three 10-10 over matches. On holidays or on vacations we will on ground full time in the scorching sun. Due to the constant Sweating and drying made my ears get infected.

On that historical day I was bed ridden, due to intense unbearable pain on my right ear, I was rolling on the bed. Seeing my state of distress, my mom thought of calling my dad to console me; and to consult a doctor in the evening.

That was when my mom reached our TV room, the wicket of Ian Smith also had fallen and Chetan Sharma is on hat trick Chance. Without knowing this stressful, nerve racking moment, my mom conveyed the message to my dad and asked him to be with me. My dad wanted to see the next ball of Chetan and he was waiting for Ewen Chatfield to come to bat.  Mom demanded his presence with me immediately and with due hesitation and irritation my dad came to my room with his mind still on hat trick.

The most influential person in my dad’s life his years old friend Mr Pappachan was also there in my room seeing my dilemma and he suggested a onetime remedy for this infection. The remedy is that, take one spoon of coconut oil, boil it and pour the hot oil through the top opening of a red Chili. Allow it to cool and once it is little warm which is bearable enough for me, nip the bottom portion of the chili and pour the oil drop by drop to my infected ear.

As instructed my mom made the things available. In the mean while some body from my dad’s gang was shouting that Ewen Chatfield on the crease and Chetan is ready to bowl. My dad’s thoughts were still on Chetan’s Hat Trick, took the Chili and nipped the bottom part keeping it just above my ear.  As he nipped the chili big the medicated oil started flowing to my ear instead of drop by drop.

Haaaaaaaa,  I screamed and rolled on my bed upper ear down.  Yes!!, as Chetan Sharna is ready to bowl, dad had forgotten that the heat should be bearable and he had poured the extreme hot oil on my ear.

Hearing my scream all the gang rushed to my room and along with my mom and Mr Pappachan, they started shouting at dad for his carelessness. In the mean time Chethan Sharma was taking his run up from the pavilion end of Vidharbha cricket Association Ground, Nagpur to bowl against Ewen Chatfield. The rest is history!.

That power-less night, I was sleeping on my dad’s lap I saw the reflection of the lantern on the bottom of dads eye lids.

During this vacation, I happened to see dad’s friend who prescribed the medicine. Seeing me he started asking me so many things for that I have not responded. In frustration he asked,Are you deaf?

I replied. Yes, your Red Chili treatment made me deaf.!!!!!!!!. Hearing that, he and my dad burst into laughter.

At last, one question remains. Where the infection has gone? If we personify the infection as a demon, he scared and ran away from my life seeing my dad and his red chili.

rajaramvasudev@gmail.com

My experiments with life

This is the Ice Breaking Speech I had given at WMC Toastmasters Club* Bahrain on 20-11-2009

The best day to plant a tree was 20 years ago.

The second best day is today……………..

Toastmaster of the day, fellow toastmasters and my dear friends,

Warm good evening to you all…..

Yes, today is the second best day in my life….my career…

Do you know why???

I was very fortunate to attend the very first meeting of WMC TMC as a guest and it took long 6-7 years for me to join this club.

Iam finally here..Today…to give you a sip of the water…The water from the ice which has taken 6 years to melt!!!??

Friends, I am Rajaram,

 Born and brought up in a small village in Kerala, under a joint family type atmosphere. My grandma was the master and the mistress of the house …a strict disciplinarian.

Like any middle class child, my parents bought me up…by feeding Banana s and Cerilac…which turned me into the bonny baby…or shall I say…the eligible handsome bachelor that I am today!

At the age of 4, my parents arranged a teacher to teach me Malayalam alphabets and numbers with the intention that I can do good when I join the school at age 5.

Every day he used to come to my house……….to teach me …   After an hour or so, my mother used to bring him coffee. Immediately after having that, he would stop the class.

That was when An idea raised in my little mind.  If we give the coffee, in the beginning itself?? … He will

go.     Then no need to study.

So I started shouting in the beginning of the class itself…1+1=2…….. Ammaaa     Kappi….

Probably this is the first experiment in my life.

As ours was a  joint family, everybody  was always busy discussing this and that, and we kids  were not supposed to make noise.

If we made noise…then gone……..they would arrange a new tuition teacher with an instruction to load us with homework.

Friends, now you know……..Terrorists are not born…they are made..

The kid who made the least noise was considered as “Maryada Raman” and would escape…scot free!

So we all pretended to be “Maryada Purushotham Rams”…to get rid of these tuition teachers.

That can be one of the reasons that we all were introverts until we reached  college.

What do you want to become??

Probably that’s the question kids are often asked by elders.

My passions were many and varied. It ranged from Policeman to Mahout to textile sales man to tractor driver

In my teenage I wanted to become a cricketer like K Srikkanth.

Unknowing my limitations I wanted to be a singer also………

Fellow toastmasters, Do you know one thing???the president (Referring Ganapathy, my BIL who is also president of the club) of my home is Bahrain an autocrat.

Whenever I started humming a song

“Chookkar Mere Man Ko

Kiya too ne kya Irada”     

Raja   Can You Please stop it   ….. my kids are sleeping!!!!@$&*...…. that also nipped on bud

Not A BIL and BIL Business

 After my Bcom I Joined for ICWAI. That was when I started applying cost control techniques at my home too. I gave long lectures to my mother regarding how to optimally utilize available resources. I spoke to my father, how to reduce labor cost, on his agricultural activities.

They were finally fed up of my management. 

In the year 2002, my mother made a  1000.00 rupee call to my sister in Bahrain to  take the problem making child out. That’s how I put my first step in Bahrain……and thank god I don’t have a     sister in Andaman Nikobar Islands too

Today I am working with LIC International, as the officer in charge of Unit Linked Products.

I have started my MBA, Toast mastering and my driving lessons this year.

Friends, as our founder president always quote.. “A journey of 1000 miles starts from a single step.”

Yes friends I have started.

If I am something today, I believe that’s only because of that 1000.00 rupee phone call and the generous support from my brother in law………Support for everything I do except………………..Any guesses…………………. for my songs!!!!!!!!!!

I believe whatever happens in life is always for good… what matters is …. Your attitude and commitment to succeed.

So…here I am…continuing my experiments with life…crushing all that ice…spilling water…before you…to Empower my Dreams!!!

***WMC Toastmasters Club [WMC-TMC], chartered in 2003, as part of the Toastmasters International movement is the second largest Toastmaster Club in the Kingdom of Bahrain. Actively engaged in developing communication and leadership skills through the approved Toastmasters International curriculum, WMC –TMC   is recognized as a powerhouse of talents in both domains. It is today acknowledged as the most innovative of all the Toastmasters clubs in Bahrain.