Thursday, 11 July 2013

A funeral and calves that ran away.



Yeah death features prominently in one more post after the previous one. 

This time, the gentleman who died peacefully in a coma - while the care givers stood aside wringing their hands in frustration, confusion and consternation - was claiming his right to be buried in the church grounds. But for that, first his body had to be released from the mortuary where it was lying in state (quite a pathetic one at that) after the post mortem.

The gentleman’s brother was on his way to the mortuary to transport him to his final resting place. Then he received this call “Mr. V, someone has untied your calves from their peg and they are not to be found since morning”

“Bloody m*#*#* f*#*##s”, Mr. V cried. 

The 4 calves were one of the precious investments from his meager income. These calves would be left to wander around his house (and his neighbours’ too) eating whatever and whenever they wanted (thus saving precious money on cattle feed). In a month’s time, they would have blossomed (?!?) into young, meaty bulls who would then be sold to prospective buyers/ butchers. While the calves where inexpensive to buy, the grown bulls were highly priced and would have earned him a handsome amount. While the calves were left to satisfy their wanderlust in the day time, at night, one calf was tethered to a peg anywhere on the grounds of the house. As if taking the cue, the remaining calves would automatically go into a huddle around this tethered calf and stay put for the night. In short, there was no need to chase and tether each calf independently, thanks to their herd mentality.

On this not-so-very-fine morning, some miscreant overcome with jealousy at Mr. V’s potential prosperity in the near future, had let loose the one calf which was tethered. The net result was that all the 4 calves had run off in 4 different directions, making Mr.V rush home spewing the choicest expletives. His brother could wait; after all, the dead were dead and they can comfortably bide their time, but the living were condemned to running around to make ends meet and feed mouths and had no time to waste.

Thus Mr. V deputed a few of his friends to escort his brother to the cemetery while he set about to chase his runaway calves. These new set of gentlemen, down on their luck (& finances) presented their blank looks and empty pockets to the morgue attendant who demanded money to give our original GentleMan a fresh makeover with a new set of clothes. These gentlemen now waited, sharing their cup of woes with each other while Mr. V went about chasing his calves. Finally, when the 4 legged lads were all tied up together, Mr. V turned up to redeem his brother from the cold confines of the freezer and take him to the hallowed grounds of the church cemetery for the customary RIP.

*** THE END (pun intended) ***

Thursday, 27 June 2013

Family is fun & cranky!



This seems to be the season of family get togethers. I just attended 2 in 3 days.

Two conversations from either side of my family:

We were all gathered with my uncles, aunts and cousins from my mother’s family. The occasion was my grandfather’s 12th death remembrance. One of my uncles expressed his desire that next April my 
 grandmother is turning 80 (i.e based on anecdotal evidence; even she doesn’t know which year according to the English calendar she was born), so we should have a grand celebration of her 80th birthday.

Grandma: “Who knows, I may not be alive till then. No need to plan it now itself”

Uncle: Don’t worry, if you’re not alive we will celebrate it as your adiyanthiram (the 7th day of death commemoration feast)!

Laughter all around as my grandma looks comforted.

                                ************

A get- together on my father’s side of the family. My cousins are spread out in various cities of the country, in US & UK. This made me remark to my niece,

Me:  “If you want to go anywhere in the world, just let anyone of us know, we will take care of everything”.

My niece (without blinking): I want to go to Africa

Me: Err…. Sorry, I’m not coming with you.

My sis: Don’t worry, we will drop you at the airport.
                             
                                  ***********

Monday, 24 June 2013

The Crowd Commentary



In the US consulate for Visa interview; some sights:

A lady in her late thirties dressed in a green sari. She had a gold chain around her neck comprised of two thick strands which reached till her tummy. May be she wanted to impress the Visa officer with her show of plenty. May be that would keep him/her from enquiring about the financial affordability of her visit to US!

The young wife who sat next to me, who will be flying Etihad with her hubby to Chicago. Thanks for making that small talk to me which soothed the small wannabe butterflies in my stomach. Also, it made me feel better and confident when I saw the response in your face when I told "Harvard".

The old grandma Vasantha Bhoopathy, whose name I know because I filled up your passport delivery form. Hope you got your passport. Mine is nowhere in sight.

The young girl who came out dressed in the chic office attire of beige trousers, black top and a bright red necklace. I'm sure the VO was distracted by the red of your necklace.

The men, boys and guys. Who notices them who are dressed in drab trousers and shirts?! One however did not escape notice -it would have been difficult not to notice - when he was dressed in a blazer and tie in the sweltering Chennai heat.

All those young guys and girls who came out smiling and were received by their moms and dads with warm embraces and proud faces.

Those hapless fellows who were swamped by auto drivers the moment they stepped out of the consulate with the bewildered look on their faces like prisoners who came out of solitary confinement.

A confluence of dreams, dejection, aspirations, prayers.

Wednesday, 15 May 2013

A Yahoo moment

I did a small Yahoo!! Yippee!! Hurrayy!! in my mind last day when I read this announcement in the newspaper. The Indian government has announced the development of an indigenous Rotaviral vaccine which can be made available in the market at just Rs 50, that is just US$1!!

As a public health persona, I can't help but contain my glee and excitement at this most welcome piece of new. This is most welcome news when you consider the fact that the currently available vaccine costs approx. Rs 1250, that is 25 times more than the new one!

It is definitely a yahoo moment for Indian science and technology, the India government's biotechnology dept having played a significant role in its development. I hope sincerely that this vaccine comes out with flying colours in all its trial phases and gets licensed fast. Yes, a vaccine is not the answer to lack of sanitation and safe drinking water. But it can definitely play a role in plugging the holes, to whatever small extent possible. Now that it will be available at a lower price, a lot more children who were kept out because their families could not afford it, can be brought into the safety net. At Rs 50, it is still out of reach to a large sectino of the opulace who subsist on less than $1 (Rs 55) a day. Lets hope that the govt can induct this vaccine into its immunization schedule and make it available to everyone free of cost.

Monday, 8 April 2013

Travel travails



After a tiring journey, I din't have enough energy to even pick up my bag from the floor. Looking at it lying there, I felt it kind of reflected my state of mind (& body) too. Well, we where just waiting for the doors to open. the swipe cards given by the reception were not quite working. So I had all the time in the world to click this picture. (Well, the ulterior motive was that I wanted to show off my bag desperately).

My bag crumpled up, jus like me....

Blues and reds
 I have been kind of obsessed with this blue bottle since I saw people drinking from it. It gives off a 'I'm cool' vibe.So I've been trying to photograph it from all angles and all situations possible, yeah , even if it is uncalled for. so this is a pic of it sitting side-by-side with two red apples. I wanted too put a green Granny Smith apple in the pic, but it happened to be resting cozily in my stomach at that moment, so that plan didn't quite take off.

Then I again clicked it sitting quietly by the hotel window. Well , you might have to look that extra bit hard to spot it. But it's there, right in the middle...


Spot the bottle?

Yeah, the answer to the pic above!


The transition from winter to spring is not really a pretty sight for me, who come from places with evergreen forests. The sight of bare trees with not a single leaf on them is depressing at times.
Looks like they are sending up prayers to the sky


Saturday, 16 March 2013

‘The Bad Girl’ at the interview



They were just about to let me go when, may be for lightening up the mood, the epidemiologist in the interview panel asked me “What are your hobbies?”. True to my soul, I replied “I read a lot and I love quizzing”’

Suddenly she asked, “Tell me the name of the last book you read”. 

 I wracked my brains for 5 seconds and stammered the only name which came to my mind at that point of time, “The Bad girl”, I told. 

Who is the author?”, she persisted. 

I was in the dilemma of my life now. I told,  Mario…(Vera? Varga? My brain hit the search mode with no luck)…...ehh, um,... I’m not getting the rest of his name”. 

Pause. 

Not one to give so easily, I blabbered, “He is Argentinian, He’s a Nobel laureate too. He’s actually a contemporary of Gabriel Garcia Marquez… I’m sorry, I don’t remember the rest of his name”. 

The bibliophile in me would never pardon me if I got his name wrong, so I could not and would not lie about it; that would be blasphemy. But I would not back down without a fight, so I thought it better to give pointers about who the author may be by mentioning his whereabouts. May be the interview board would have thought that I would go on with his biography if they din’t stop me right there and then. So they told me politely, “You can go now.”

I came out. I took two steps in a disoriented fashion. I had let myself down by not remembering the name of the author. I was a shame to the quizzer community of the world. Screw the rest of the interview.
Suddenly, in a flash, it came to me, “Llosa. Vargas Llosa. Mario Vargas Llosa ”. “Yippee…!!” my mind did a small somersault to itself. I turned back to go to the interview room. I had to redeem my pride, I had to tell them that I knew. 

Just then, one of the panel members emerged from the room. He din’t look like he cared. He hadn’t blinked when I mentioned the book’s name. There was no flicker of recognition when I mentioned Argentina or Nobel prize or even Marquez… For him and the others in the room, The Bad Girl could have been just another Mills & Boons book for all they knew, as the title seemed to suggest.

But for me, it mattered that I could remember, that I did not forget. I had redeemed myself in my eyes. I walked out feeling good, thinking of the actual Bad Girl that Llosa wrote about, about Marquez, One hundred years of Solitude and Love in the times of Cholera….




PS:It also didn't matter that later Llosa turned out to be a Peruvian and not from Argentina as I had claimed!




 

The Different colours of Spring

Spring has announced its arrival in Bangalore by breaking out into a melange of colours. The few trees that have managed to survive the onslaught of man;s greed as well as that of the metro rail construction have trumpeted the turn of time by bringing forth the colours they were harbouring in their bosoms around the year.
s
The yellows and pinks of Spring


This is just outside my office. The trees are almost bare , no leaves, only flowers adorning their squiggly branches.

The entire ground has become carpeted with flowers...

Floral carpet

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