Of Friends Old and New

Old Wine 

To go or not to go… three times I asked the office help desk for the Mumbai-Delhi-Mumbai fares.  About twenty days ago, the fare was about eleven thousand, but with a huge assignment in hand, the mind said… forget it, say no. A week later, checked again, the fares had soared to thirteen thousand. The heart silently said, go man. Then, hell broke loose. SixE turned not so SexY… with thousands of flights getting cancelled, I decided to give the reunion a miss. Wrote to my mates, who felt bad but understood and accepted and the final list of thirteen attendees was drawn out minus me. Then some sort of normalcy returned and a day before the get-together, just couldn’t resist myself and booked the tickets. The heart overruled the mind and the pocket. With five of the original set of friends having bid a final hurrah, a voice within said… just go kyonki zindagi na milegi dobara. Some things in life are simply priceless and you would not miss them for anything. For there are friends and then there are those who are more than a lifetime-wale friends. 

The joy on the faces when they saw the unexpected fourteenth horseman arrive was something that made the long journey worth every penny spent. Warm hugs, tight hugs and big smiles happened all around and the party got going full speed ahoy. Sometimes people at our homes wonder why this annual reunion is so important… difficult to say why this tradition has been going on for almost 21 years except a couple of years in between that were lost due to the pandemic. Sometimes the attendance is good and friends from across the seas also fly down and at times only a handful come together. But the annual meet of Section 10-C SCS in Nov or Dec is like any festival in India where dates depend upon stars and constellations and here it is usually arrival of a migratory bird from down under. 

If I were to think of some logical reasons why the annual get-together of this Band of Brothers, as the group of men in their early sixties call themselves, happens year after year, it would not be easy but I have tried to put together a few.

a.   Having been together for over fifty years, this one bond of friendship seems to be oldest in their lives, for even the parents of most of these men are no longer there. This is more like brotherhood that binds them together. 

b.  They know each other to the core and share the darkest of secrets knowing fully well that things said here will remain within the group. That’s the Code of Brothers and has never been hacked. 

c. While some have gone on to become big industrialists and professionals, here those designations and individual wealth do not matter. When they meet and start talking, everything melts away just like yesterday. 

d.  There is no sense of competition and jealousy that you might find in the groups that are formed in professional institutes and later on in working life. By then innocence is lost and scrape a layer, the comparisons of who did what and how much money the other makes comes out. 

e. There is zero element of politics and religion discussed and shared in the group, the sure shot reasons that create heartburns and schisms and often exist in most groups. 

f.    Everyone knows how many times the other has been caned by the Irish Brothers and what other embarrassment one may have encountered in those early days, the thrashing by the Hindi teacher… everything spills out and so do peals of laughter. In the group, it was ok to be stupid then and it is ok to stay stupid even now. 

g.  Boys talk of having seen something about the gorgeous looking elocution teacher, the sneak-peek of the biology teacher while getting the notebooks corrected and close encounters with the beauties in the girls’ school across the barbed wire and green fencing, all come out of the closet and they behave as if they are still in their teens. Some, of course, can be ruled out as folk tales but they still make you laugh as adolescents and you never question their authenticity. 

The few hours of togetherness in one year are something we all look forward to. Like in Dil Chahta Hai, Saif Ali Khan says, hum cake ke liye kahin bhi jaa sakte hain (we can go anywhere to eat cake), similarly, the Band of Brothers say, hum iss ek din ke liye, kuchh bhi kar sakte hain (for this one day of meeting in a year, we can go to any length). These friends make life, a lot more fun. Finally, let me quote the tennis ace, Maria Sharapova, who once said, ““It's easy to impress me. I don't need a fancy party to be happy. Just good friends, good food, and good laughs. I'm happy. I'm satisfied. I'm content.” Seeing this perfect quote from her, the boys are willing to make one exception and induct the beautiful Maria into their group. 

Barfi

Lately, D and I have found a new friend who we long to meet every evening while at our walks. We met him a couple of months ago and he seemed pretty uninterested and bored. He would be in his four-wheeler and would hardly look at us. Slowly he started noticing the two oldies walking together, day after day, while he had his own companion who would not leave his side. A few more months passed and now he would sit up and give us a smile once in a while. Another month passed and he realised that these are good people, people who he can be friends with. And today the situation is that on days when we are unable to go for the evening walks, we miss meeting our friend more than our walks. On days when I am away and only D gets to meet this friend, the first thing I want to know while connecting with her is, …did you meet him…what happened? 

Meet our latest best friend Gabbu. He is thirteen months old and still in his diapers but he is truly…nappy mein bhi happy. He never cries and is always smiling. He still moves around in his pram but is someone we long to meet every day. Maybe he too feels the same, so we think, but apart from a little ..mee hee…aa aa… he is still to utter words. Gabbu may not be able to talk as of now but he shows some extraordinary behavioral traits. 

Even when he is some distance away with his pram facing the other way, if I clap aloud even once, he turns back instantly and knows his friend has arrived. He will start clapping himself with his tiny hands till I reach close to him when he will throw up his little hands, saying, take me in your arms Big Brother. He is definitely fond of me for I run with him, make him sit atop cars while he bangs his palms on the roofs, he is happy to see his reflection on the window panes of cars parked in the colony and take him anywhere he points his hands to. D is also very fond of him but if I am around, he insists on coming to me but then he has understood that this other walking mate of mine is not happy at what he is doing. He then goes to her arms initially for no more than sixty seconds and then having paid his toll tax, puts up his hands towards me…now take me Buddy. Smart Boy, indeed. 

On those days when I am not around, the little master is a different person. Earlier he would just lie down in his pram and keep smiling at D, mocking at her, saying… no, no, no…I am not coming to you. But nowadays he has realised, something is better than just sitting in the pram all through the evening and this lady is able to do a lot of what my other friend did. He now quickly goes to her arms and then tries to make her do all that I do to him; all his instructions are with his hands and eyes. On days when we are out walking and he is nowhere to be seen, other walkers who see us playing with him daily, ask us… where is he? We just smile and say, we are also looking for him. We, too, look a bit lost with every passing round of the walking circuit and hope, he will be there in the next. Sometimes he comes into view and we feel overjoyed and at times, he doesn’t, and we return home disappointed. We think of doing an extra round on days, hoping we might see him at least once. 

One day, Gabbu’s father had him in his arms and on seeing me, he jumped straight into my arms as if telling his dad, this guy is more fun than you. Strangely, however, one evening, Gabbu was in his mother’s arms and when we passed by, he acted as if he did not know us at all. I tried to make faces and did some antics, something like Ranbir Kapoor in Barfi, but this young friend of ours saw me and showed no signs of recognition… he looked at his mom and possibly gave her a look to say… who is this funny man, I don’t know him, do you? Why is he acting loony, Mom? That, I suppose is the connect of the umbilical cord every child has and proved to us that the magic of a mother’s touch is stronger than any relationship. Even little Gabbu knows it well at this infant stage. 

Soon Gabbu will grow up and have friends of his own age, with whom he can play, talk and do innumerable things. Will he be the Little Dennis or Calvin? Who knows, but surely, he will grow up and long after we have gone, have a Band of Brothers of his own. We wish him and his family well. See you in the evening Buddy.

Yesterday Once More

A year ago, it was the hundred and twenty-fifth year celebrations of their alma mater at Delhi, and the one batch that had passed out many years ago decided that they should have their reunion along with the college celebrations. While there was huge enthusiasm in the WhatsApp group during the preparatory stages, when it came to calling the roll of people who were confirming to join the celebrations, the numbers dwindled drastically especially for the ones who were out of station. The whole plan fizzled out. A year later, there was a near consensus that the reunion would happen, come what may, and the confirmations were sent in by many. It was agreed that even if the numbers were not big enough, the party would happen. And, the much-awaited night had arrived. The venue was the college teachers’ common room that was booked on special request and the other arrangements of food, beverages, decorations and music were organized by a couple of local influential batchmates.

As per the invitation card, the time given was 7pm. One lady in a silk saree came in very early and just sat on the couch placed in the room while admiring the decorations including some old photographs of the batchmates taken during their tenure at college and the trip to Nainital. One picture caught her attention… it was the one taken on the last day of college when a small farewell had been hurriedly arranged. She tried putting a name against each of the people in the frame when a voice from behind shouted… Hi Rekha! She recognized the voice even after so long and turned to see Dhaval. Yes, he had turned old, some grey strands were still left on the balding pate… a thick frame over the eyes covered most of his face. He was casually dressed in a colourful beach shirt and a pair of jeans. What remained unchanged over the years was his gentle smile that said… here’s a good guy.

Rekha was so happy seeing Dhaval that she rushed to him with her arms open and gave him a warm hug. Dhaval was taken aback by her spontaneous show of affection for she was the, calmest, quietest and shyest of all in the class and he hardly could remember any instance in the past where Rekha had shown such emotions. He looked at her, smiled and said... That was some way to start a reunion. She shouted… Arrey Motu, you did not confirm in the group that you were coming?

You are right. After last year’s fiasco, I thought this year too it would be a damp squib but when I saw many signing on, I too booked my tickets.

We seem to have forgotten the time sense of Dilliwalahs and have arrived before time. I am sure they will start trooping in not before 8 pm. Let us walk around the college campus and see what all has changed.

That’s a good idea… let’s go.

The duo walked the college corridors and went to the first floor of the building where they had their classes. While the exterior of the building looked all spruced up with fresh paint the rooms looked pretty much unchanged except for the strong wooden benches which had given way to smart modular chairs with arm rests and the frontal writing piece. The rooms were all locked so they went out where once the hostel stood. A fresh modern construction was coming up. For the old timers who had lived the best part of their college days in the hostel, the thought of demolishing the old hostel was heart breaking. Later when the news got around, some even suggested retaining a small portion of it as a memorial.

We met our best of friends, had the best of times and turned from boys to men while living those three beautiful years in the hostel…, said Dhaval with sadness in his voice.

I am sure they will make a bigger and more beautiful hostel, one in which girls will also find a place to stay.

The two then walked towards the huge playground and sat down on a bench with cool winter breeze blowing and the stars shining on a clear night.

How have you been? It is almost forty years since we last met.

Yes… life has been good. No complaints. Forty years just went by moving from cantonment to cantonment and city to city, bringing up two girls and managing my world all alone the last twenty-six years.

The two got chatting with the cool winter breeze kissing their faces.

Although Dhaval had not met Rekha all this time, he was well aware about her life through some common friends. Soon after college, Rekha had married Dhananjay who was a year senior to them in college. Dhananjay also happened to be Dhaval’s room-mate in the hostel. People used to jokingly say theirs was the Dhak Dhak Room, because of the first three letters of their names and also the fact that the two were die-hard romantics. Dhananjay was the most sought-after senior in History for not only was he tall and good looking, he was also the topper of his batch. Junior girls would often reach out to him for his tutorials which everyone said they were the best in the university.

Dhaval, however, was in a world of his own. For him college meant playing cricket and trying to get into the famed college team which always had a couple of India capped players. Selection to the college team would mean visibility in the bigger arena so he could play higher level of cricket. He seldom attended classes and never bothered his senior room-mate for any help in studies. One day, Dhaval was sitting in the cafeteria with Dhananjay enjoying the special burger which was no more than a fried aloo tikki inside a big bun and a whole lot of ketchup on the round paper plate. She was a slim girl with short hair and wore a smart checked shirt over a pair of jeans. What struck Dhaval was her light eyes. She did not even look at the round baby-faced Dhaval and straightaway stood before the handsome man and extended her hand of friendship… Sir, I am Rekha Sharma from first year History Honours. I would like to borrow your tutorials on Chinese History for a few days and after making copies, I shall return them to you.

Dhananjay was quite used to such requests and, even without looking at her, he said, I have already given them to someone else. Check with me after a few days and if I have them then and you are the first to approach me on that day, I shall be happy to give them to you.

The girl looked disappointed and was turning away when Dhaval spoke to Dhananjay…Boss, de do na (Boss, just give it). I think she has to submit her paper in a couple of days. If I remember correctly, your Chinese History tutorials are still there in the file. You have given away the ones on Ancient Indian History.

Is that so? Ok then, Motu, go to the room and bring them to me.

Dhaval was very happy that he was of help to the pretty girl and her smile said it all. Being a spin bowler, he never had to run fast but today was different. He was running like the fastest man on earth then, Carl Lewis. By the time he came down with the tutorials, he saw Dhananjay and Rekha enjoying tea and sharing some casual talk. Dhananjay took the papers from Dhaval and gave them happily to the girl. He then asked Dhaval to get some snacks for the two of them and Motu silently did what his senior asked of him. While he was completely made to look like a Man Friday to the senior, Motu had now got a reason to go to the classroom. That made him happy and he knew he could be with Rekha much more than his senior, and the thought of it made him punch a hole in the air.

Dhaval tried going to the class but often found himself sitting in the last row while Rekha would be up there in one of the front rows. He dared not go up for the fear of the lecturer asking him some question and, more importantly, disturbing his intermittent naps. While all this was happening, Rekha was oblivious of his presence and was making it a point to go to the cafeteria everyday post the lectures and meet Dhananjay. After a cup of masala chai, they would go to the library and be there for hours together. Motu remained the silent admirer of Rekha and an errand boy to Dhananjay. Soon after college, Dhananjay joined the armed forces as per the tradition of his family, much to the surprise of all in the college where everyone had thought he would clear the civil services in his first attempt. Dhaval continued his life in college and university; he did his post-graduation for the namesake for all he wanted was to play cricket at the college level. He, finally, succeeded in getting into the prestigious college team and also made it to the university eleven. Thereafter, he got a job with the Indian Railways on sports quota and travelled from place to place. Rekha and Dhananjay soon got married but Dhaval was surprised that his senior did not invite him despite being the best of friends. Anyway, after forty long years, he had met Rekha that night. Dhananjay had been martyred in the 1999 Kargil War.

Rekha broke the long pause… I think it is time for us to head back to the party room. I am sure some folks would have surely come in by now.

Dhaval agreed and the two walked back to find the room full of people and they rushed in to meet the friends of old. There were excitement and laughter all around. Quickly the bottles were uncorked and glasses filled with sparkling wine and best of whiskey. For some it still remained good old lemonade and mojito. You could feel the energy in the room and after a while the music stopped and people sat down and a few took to karaoke and others to singing without any music. All the talent was pouring out as the spirits were getting downed. Sanjay clapped his hands a couple of times and asked others to listen to his important announcement…

Ladies and Gentlemen, now we will listen to some poems written during the college days and I had asked Dhaval to get the same old red diary he used to write with his pen in his beautiful handwriting. Only some of us have had the good fortune of listening to them before but who did he write them for is still a mystery to us.

What Motu and poetry? Since when?

Sanjay exclaimed… he is our chhupa-rustam …. Don’t you remember when the lecturer asked us all to write an impromptu answer to the question, What is History’? While all of us were struggling to quote from E.H.Carr’s book of the same name, Motu wrote a poem in those thirty minutes saying why we should not study history which the lecturer found not just amusing but quite extraordinary. So now, presenting the one and only Shaiyar-e-azam of our batch.

What followed next was… irshaad irshaad…by many giving a cue to Dhaval to recite.

Dhaval pulled out an old red diary from his bag and randomly flipped a few pages and read out some of his poems, each better than the other and all with a common theme… praising his loved one…. her beauty…her smile... her dreamy eyes and most of all expressing his intense longing of her. Each of the poems was written in chaste Hindi and if one were to close one’s eyes, it would be easy to get transported into the most romantic world of the poet. With every poem read, the applause grew louder. Everyone was exclaiming aloud their appreciation and Dhaval, for once, felt like a hero in the class where he was branded an outsider. Rekha was clapping but had a very worried look on her face. She had read these poems before. These were the same ones that Dhananjay had written for her during their courtship. He would give her as and when he wrote a new one. These were the letters that made her fall so deeply in love with the man. Dhaval is a fraud and a cheat! How dare he take credit for something that he has not written?

Once the reunion cake was cut, people ate food and started trooping out, Rekha walked up to Dhaval and sternly asked… Are you sure all these poems you read out are yours? Don’t you feel bad for lying… each of them was written by Dhananjay with his initial at the end. You must have flicked his diary. Give it back to me.  You are a loser and will always be one.

Dhaval smiled and, without any hesitation, handed the red diary to Rekha and walked away. Rekha opened the diary and saw the poems, the scribbles, sketches and scratches done while writing the poems and the same initial in Hindi at the end of each poem.  She wondered who the real ‘Dha’ was…her Dhananjay or the imposter Dhaval? Or was it the other way round? She sat down on the college steps, put her head between her palms and cried. Wished she had not come to the reunion.

SS

Tusky

The sun had set in the dense forest of Mudumalai. The chirping of the birds had ended. All the animals had taken to the retreat. Did I say all? No, not all. All except Jumo, the baby elephant, who was restless. He had wandered away from the main herd and was standing on an elevated patch near a little stream making two distinct sounds… one that was shrill as if calling someone and the other one that you could say sounded like someone sobbing. He stood there crying relentlessly despite the forest becoming darker by the minute and knowing well that a lonely baby elephant would be an easy prey to the predators who were at large in the jungle.  Hearing his cries, the matriarch of the herd and some other elephants came running to Jumo and tried to pacify him with their trunks, gently rubbing him from the head to the where the little tail hung on.

Why are you here Jumo and where is your father?

Jumo started howling and said… Papa Tusky and I were playing here since the afternoon. Then Papa was trying to show me how to kick. He kicked the fruit ball hard and it went flying across to the other side of the stream. Papa said that he would get me another ball but I insisted on playing with the same one. Papa then swam across the stream to the other side and started looking for the ball. He has not come back from there since. I have been calling him back but he is not paying any heed to my cries. I am sure he is angry with me for being so stubborn and that is why he is not coming back.

Tusky

The matriarch, Paddy, realized that Tusky, the one with the biggest tusk in the herd and father to Jumo was missing. She now lifted her trunk above her head and blew the trumpet a couple of times. The sound was so loud that it could be heard in any part of the jungle and wake up the sleepiest of all animals. This was a call for Tusky to return. All the other elephants waited eagerly to see if there was any movement on the other side of the stream. Alas, there was none!

Hmmm… this is not good. As we all know, on the other side of the stream lies the Bandipur forest which is the domain of our sworn enemies, the tigers. This water body acts as the natural border between their territory and ours. They do not venture to our side and we do not put a foot on theirs. Any violation is dealt with utmost severity and death to the intruder is guaranteed. That is the rule that has been in place for many generations and allows peaceful co-existence in our respective lands. Tusky knew this very well and yet made the mortal mistake of sneaking into the tiger territory.

It is all my fault… why did I do it… Papa please come back… I will be a good boy and never ever trouble you… boo hoo hoo.. Papa, I am sorry… come back please…

Paddy and Jumo

Paddy went close to Jumo and started holding him tight with her trunk… don’t worry, baby. Your Papa will come back soon. He is the pride of our herd. We will find him if he does not come home on his own. But for now, let us go back and sleep. Going into tiger territory at night would be taken not as an intrusion but as an invasion and a full-scale war will erupt between the cats and the pachyderms. The result will be bloody and the jungle will never ever look the same. Come Jumo, stay with me tonight.

Jumo obeyed Paddy and walked away. He could not sleep at all and was restless. Paddy, too, did not sleep for she knew what the baby was going through.

Next morning, by the time Jumo woke up, he saw two people who he recognized. They were Bomman and Bellie, B&B in short. These were strange human beings who could understand the elephant language and also communicate with them. The elders called them Elephant Whisperers but to Jumo, they were the kind-hearted people who played with the baby elephants often and the fathers never suspected any ill of them. Paddy had communicated to B&B the problem and, along with them, walked to the stream. Bomman and Bellie took a long staff in hand and tied a piece of white cloth and swam across the stream to Bandipur, the tiger land. Over the years, the tigers too had seen the couple and had somehow accepted them as being neutrals if not friends.

Musa

The elephants saw B&B talk to the tiger king, Musa, and his tribe who were all out in the open and ready for a war if they saw any infiltration from the other side. It looked like a pretty animated talk and sometimes it was looking like the tigers were getting angry and showing their fangs. After some tense time, the two whisperers turned around and swam back to the Mudumalai elephant forest zone. They spoke aloud for all the elephants to hear what had transpired on the other side.

Bomman spoke…Listen O Gentle Pachyderms! The tigers have said that they did not hurt Tusky yesterday. They had gone to the other part of the jungle for a feast arranged for them by their leopard cousins of Kabini forest. They have reluctantly allowed you to enter their territory for just one day to search for Tusky. They will not attack any of you and you too should stay away from getting into any fight with them. Bellie and I will accompany you in this search operation and will do all communication with the tigers, should the situation so arise. I hope I have made the terms clear and you promise to honour the same?

Watchful Tigers

All the elephants, including Jumo, lifted their trunks and trumpeted in unison as the tigers looked on to this majestic scene unfolding before their eyes. The matriarch led the herd into the water and at the tail were Bomman and Bellie who wanted to be a part of the search party and also had a special work of keeping Jumo in control. As the elephants walked out of the water, the tigers simply stood aside in two rows as if giving a guard of honour. In normal times, this would have been the scene of the bloodiest battle ever fought on land, but not today. Today was the day to find Tusky.

The elephants spread out across the forest in order to cover more area and quickly find out where Tusky was. After a while, the elephants heard Paddy’s loud trumpet which was a signal that they need to assemble where the matriarch stood. Jumo was very excited as this could possibly mean Tusky, his father, had been located. He started running in the direction from where the trumpet blew. B&B asked him to slow down, but Jumo was determined to reach the appointed place quickly and meet Tusky again. By the time Jumo reached the place, almost all other elephants had already made their way there and had their heads hanging down in sadness. Jumo saw his father Tusky lying still on the ground that had turned red. He saw that Tusky’s famed tusks were missing. Jumo was in tears... he was inconsolable…the elephant whisperers took him aside and kissed him and wiped his tears. Jumo lay down on the ground with his eyes fixed on Tusky… my father…my dear father…

Elephants looking at Tusky

The news reached the tigers who also came running to the spot and saw the terrible scene. The Whisperers went close to Tusky and saw that on his forehead were a couple of deep wounds caused by bullets fired from large-caliber guns. It was clear to all who had gathered that Tusky had been killed by hunters who not only killed animals for gaming but took away the most precious parts for their gain. Paddy and the tiger king, Musa, stepped aside and spoke…

This is a grave danger to both the tribes. We too have lost some of ours to bullets lately. They have to be found and taught a lesson before they kill any more of us.

Yes. I agree. For the sake of the peace in the jungle, let us work together in this mission. Let us search, find and eliminate the enemy who lurks dangerously in our realm. We need to find these unwanted creatures quickly before they can do any further damage to the beauty of the jungle.

Suddenly, a vulture, with the biggest wingspan landed where the two leaders were talking. This was Kamu, the vulture king. Ugly looking creature with dark big eyes, sharp beak and a head that looked drenched in blood.

Kamu- courtesy Wiki

I know that the two of you think of me and my people as outcasts and below your dignity to talk, walk and share anything with. For generations you have spread bad things about us but we can have this conversation on another day. Today, I offer my help to you to find out the killers. We have the best eyesight and a nose that can small blood and flesh from great distances. Forget who we are and what we do as scavengers, take our hand of friendship now and you will not regret it.

Paddy and Musa, stepped back a few steps from Kamu. They had their mutual dislike for vultures and other scavengers.  The duo spoke in a language only they could understand and then moved ahead towards Kamu. Paddy spoke… Thank you Kamu for the help. We are ready to work on this search mission with your tribe. We agree that you will be an invaluable ally in this mission.

Kamu smiled… Thank you for accepting us as a part of the jungle tribe for once. As a mark of our goodwill, I assure you that none of my people will touch Tusky who can be given a good clean send off in the manner you deem fit.

Paddy nodded in appreciation of this one kind gesture and now the three took off in search. In no time, Kamu signaled to Paddy and Musa that the enemy had been sighted. The trio once more assembled and Kamu spoke…

At one end of Bandipur are two tents which seem to have been recently pitched. My people have also seen some big wheeled things there. The people are carrying things from the tent to the big wheels. They seem to be in a hurry.

That place is quite some distance from here. They will possibly go away by the time we reach there.

Kamu smiled… You will take time, but not us. We will reach there quickly and hold them back till you reach.

That would be great Kamu but be careful. These killers have guns and are dangerous.

Kamu flew away swiftly with his huge tribe of vultures that looked more like hundreds of fighter jets flying in squadron formation. They reached the place where the hunters were busy loading tusks and tiger skins when the vultures swooped down upon them with ferocity that they had never experienced before. Initially, the hunters tried to wave their guns to drive away the attackers and then they aimed their guns and fired. The vultures were experienced birds who knew about fights in the air as well as avoiding bullets fired from a one off gun. But this was a different situation, for a number of guns were blazing together now and many a bird got hit and they fell to the ground.  The birds kept attacking and distracting the hunters relentlessly despite the losses. They resembled the Kamikaze pilots of World War 2 who were ready to fly their war planes into enemy warships in a suicidal manoeuvre.  In some time, the land forces of tigers and elephants arrived and the hunters saw that they were completely surrounded by two rings of mighty animals.

Bomman and Bellie had also arrived with Jumo. They showed their white flag and went towards the hunters. Both sides were on high alert and an uneasy impasse ensued momentarily.

You have destroyed the peace of the jungle. You have killed innocent animals and birds. Your position now is completely hopeless as you will never be able to escape alive from here. Surrendering is your only chance apart from any mercy the animals show towards you. Here is Jumo, whose father you killed for taking away his ivory tusks. According to the law of the jungle, only this baby elephant who has been wronged by you can take a final call on your fate. Whatever Jumo decides will be followed. Just drop your guns now and let Jumo decide.

The other animals shouted…Jumo give death to the killers… death…  death to them all!

Jumo was very angry at the killers of his father but still in his own language spoke to B&B… If we were to kill these men today, their children will become fatherless like me. Children deserve better lives with their parents and they should not suffer the wrong doings of their fathers. Let us not do any more killing but allow them to go home without their guns and their loot. Tell them to never ever return to the jungle other than as visitors to  see us freely living in the wild.

Paddy and Musa were amazed at the maturity of the baby elephant. They asked a few of their followers to escort the hunters out of the jungle. The guns and other equipment were crushed under the trampling feet of the elephants. The two lords of the jungle decided to take the ivory and tiger skins to the banks of the stream separating the two tribes. The tiger skins were put one on top of the other and placed in the centre. The ivory tusks planted around to create a small enclosure. The Elephant Whisperers wrote a board at the entrance… Temple of Tusky.

Paddy and Musa announced… We declare, from now on, if ever a dispute were to arise between the tigers and elephants, we will come to this enclosure for mediation and avoid fights. Kamu, you and your followers will, henceforth, never be discriminated against and you will be given full citizenship status of the jungle world. This is our world and all have a role to play in maintaining harmony. All are welcome in peace to the jungle world.

SS

Gluttony sans Chuttney

The Homecoming story continues …. Today after so many years, Srini was feeling very happy and before leaving for Mala’s house he dialed his mother in the US on Facetime…

Sinu…you look so happy. I am sure you got a good darshan!

Yes, Yes Amma… I did.

Amma did not know the reason for the double Yes but for Srini it was double darshan… one was of the deity inside the sanctum sanctorum and then the utter joy and surprise of darshan of his love of yore after many years.

Srini put on an extra round of Hugo Boss perfume and combed his hair well before driving away to Mala’s house where he was welcomed by a tall and well-built man.

Bala, I presume… said Srini as if he was meeting Dr. Livingstone in the forest of Africa.

Yes… welcome Srini. Mala has been speaking about you ever since she met you yesterday.

Srini smiled and walked into the nice house with a small garden outside. Mala quickly made strong filter coffee and they had it together while Bala and Srini did some small talk. Bala then asked… how long are you going to be in Madurai?

Oh... the jealous hubby wants to pack me off quickly… and even though his return ticket to Chennai was booked for the next day, Srini said… I am in no hurry… could go tomorrow or even stay a couple of more days.

If you are leaving tomorrow, I strongly recommend that you must taste the variety of food Madurai has to offer. Mala is an expert guide in this regard. She takes all our guests around the eating joints. She could even start a vlog on the city’s cuisine.  Unfortunately, I am a pucca veggie and often stay back at home during her food fiesta tours.

Srini was very happy to learn that Mala would accompany him alone for the rest of the day but still said… it is so sad that you are not coming. We would have a great time together. You can still come and have the traditional food with sambar and chuttney.

No… no... Srini… you please carry on. I also need to be at home for Chandru here has some project that I will help complete. Enjoy the day and in case you decide to delay your travel to Chennai, we can meet again tomorrow.

Mala and Srini waved Chandru and Bala bye and hopped into the waiting cab. As the cab started moving, Mala spoke… Why are you sitting so far away… don’t worry, I promise not to repeat what happened at Saarang…and started laughing, much to the amusement of the driver seated in front.  An embarrassed Srini shifted closer by a few inches and no more.

Let us start with the most famous drink of Madurai… the Jigarthanda. So, the literal meaning of this word would mean the drink that cools the liver (jigar) but it is actually a metaphor for heart in Persian. This is made of milk, almond gum, sarsaparilla root syrup, sugar and ice-cream.

Mmmm… this is cool and really good said Srini while wiping off the drink from his lips with the paper tissue… ekdum Jigar Thanda ho gaya!

And now let me take you to another of Madurai’s specialty… this is Konar Kadai of Simmakkal and has been serving the best Kari Dosa since 1943.

Kari Dosa.. what is that? I have never heard about this dosa. If you wanted to have dosa for lunch then why did we leave out Bala?

Arrey Sinu.. kari dosa is made with the rice batter as base as in any dosa. Atop this is a layer of eggs and finally you have topmost layer of mince-meat sukha (dry), pronounced and written locally as chukka.

This is amazing stuff. Who would believe that in the temple city, you could get a dosa that is a double dose of non-vegetarian.

This food is slightly heavy and you need a little break before you eat anything else.

Mala, if you do not mind, I would like to pick up some Sungudi sarees for Amma. She always wore these hand tie and dye cotton sarees in the summers.

Of course, Srini. I know a good place which is reasonable and have a good variety…saying this she directed the driver to turn around and drive in another direction. The car stopped near a large store and they got off. All the people in the simple showroom were ladies and they were very eager to show all the varieties of sarees and dress materials they had. Srini was completely bowled over by the prices that were so cheap that he even refused to think of converting INR to USD. He picked up a couple of sarees and dress materials and was very happy with his purchase. As they sat in the car, he handed Mala one of the packets containing the most expensive saree that he had bought… please do not say no. All this would not have happened, if not for you. So, please take this as a small token.

Mala smiled and accepted the packet without any fuss.

Now let me take you to another super food of Madurai… the bun parotta.

What is a bun parotta? I have had bun-muksa in Mumbai but never a parotta.

Making this is an art. Come and see it for yourself. This is Madurai’s famous Sri Meenatchi Bun Parotta.

Srini saw one man first mixing the flour dough, nice and soft. Then, he made a number of small balls out of the lot. The next step was for the next man to then convert, with his bare hands, the ball into flat bread just like a roomali roti except that they put a lot of oil on the dough and it is much bigger and completely elastic. After rolling it well, the man, picks up the flattened piece of parotta to wrap it in the form of a ball with layers… quite similar to a ball of wool. This is then put in a huge pan of oil and deep fried till it looks like a bun. The excess oil is squeezed out and then served with chicken chukka and brain fry. It just tasted heavenly for Srini.

Do they only make non-veggie stuff in this city? I took a look at the menu card and they were selling everything from rabbit meat to quails, from fishes of all sorts to shrimps.

The city is a melting pot of cultures. You can get both veg and non-veg food in every corner and people are very open to eating habits of others and never bother with it.

Super… wish more people in the land would live like souls of Madurai. What next Mala?

I know your stomach must be almost full or overflowing but you must try another easy to digest food. This is called the Burma Iddiappam. The grandmother of the lady in the stall was born and bought up in Burma and that is how the shop got its name. you can find many other shops with this name but where I am taking you, is the original one.

Great… even if I am full or more than full, I rather drown in the food of this city than go home without tasting its special flavours.

Srini, sure was having a wonderful time with Mala in company. He now went with her to the street joint where he saw a middle-aged lady sitting with two workers making the iddiappam. She served them two rounds of iddiappam, once the white one made of rice and the other brown one which was made of jaggery. She would pour some coconut milk and sprinkle a little jaggery over it and Srini ate with his hands, enjoying every bite of it. This was really special food run, something he would never experience anywhere else. After finishing and washing his hands with the water stored in the plastic can nearby and put his hands on his tummy… I surrender… enough and no more came the cry from within.

Come, let us now visit the beautiful water tank we have in the city. This is called the Vandiyur Mariamman Teppakulam built in 1645 by King Thirumalai Nayak and has a Vinayaka temple in the middle. Plus the latest attraction here is the street food that is sold in carts all-round the periphery.

Aaiyoo Mala… no more food.

Got it Sinu. Let us walk around the lake and allow the food to get digested.

Srini started walking with her. He wanted to hold her hands while doing this last walk but stopped himself. After walking for a while, Mala saw something and said…

Sinu, you must have Paruthi Phal… this is one last thing you should taste. This is a hot drink made of cotton seeds, jaggery, ginger powder, cardamom and thick coconut milk is an excellent healthy drink that helps improve digestion and blood circulation. You will not get this anywhere else. It is really special.

Srini enjoyed drinking this Madurai special drink and then asked the driver to first go to Mala’s place and then to his hotel. En-route, Srini got a bit bold and jokingly asked... will you come and join me at the annual alumni meet?

She looked at him and simply laughed… Sinu... getting naughty, eh... and nodded her head as if saying no. She then asked him... your reunion is still a few days away, why don’t you stay back at Madurai for a some more days.

Now it was Srini’s turn to nod his head to say no… if fear if I stay longer here, I may not go back… he said jokingly.

The car reached Mala’s house and as she got off, Bala was there to receive her. Both bid Srini bye.

Srini, reached his hotel, quickly changed and hit the bed but was not able to sleep immediately. He started remembering every moment he had spent during the day with Mala, every conversation he had with her, her every move, her smile… in the end he kicked himself for having lost her when the time was right. He then remembered a book he had seen at a book fair and thought that he will send it to Mala. He smiled at himself and slept well in her company.

SS

Wonder of Wonders

My recent visit to the Meenakshi Amman Temple of Madurai left me with something wanting. This had happened to me while visiting Munnar and once before in Florence. I guess if everything is fulfilled at one go, there will be nothing left to go back to. That can never happen with an ordinary mortal. We are always wanting something more. This want, this desire for something more, this insatiable craving for once more, is what keeps us going. That wee bit of disappointment is what defines us as human. And that is where we err and that is how we sin.

As soon as we set foot in the temple city of Madurai, known as the city which never sleeps (Thoonga Nagaram), we dashed to take a look at the Meenakshi Temple from outside. We knew that mobile phones and cameras were not allowed inside, so we thought that before the actual visit for the darshan we would see the famed Gopurams from outside and pose in front of them. That is when disappointment struck us. The four gateways or Gopurams, with the tallest rising up to 170 ft, were hidden behind the iron scaffolding and swathed in the green netted coverings used at construction sites. We ran from the west gopuram to the north, from the eastern to the southern gateway, but all were well hidden behind the iron rods. The temple was undergoing the restoration work which happens once in every twelve years. We recalled our visit to Munnar. There too the blooming of the Neelakurinji (Strobilanthes kunthiana) flowers, which cover parts of the hills of the Western Ghats in a blanket of purplish-blue and give the Nilgiris its name, had eluded us by a year. There too the flowers bloom once in twelve years- another wonder of nature or divine intervention. The Baptistery of San Giovanni outside the Duomo in Florence, too, had been hidden behind restoration facades and the ‘Gates of Paradise’ had not opened for us. May be the fish-eyed goddess, also called Meenatchi or Angayarkanni (the one with the beautiful fish-like eyes), eternally awake to protect her people, wants us to come back again to see her colourful gateways, rising far above the city, easily spotted from any part of the town. Interestingly the insignia of the Pandyan rulers, who had made Madurai their capital, was also the fish.

Model of the temple at the Govt. Museum

Though the gopurams (lofty towers above the gateways on outer walls, a feature of Dravidian architecture) look identical, each was built at a different point of time in history between 13^thC and 17^th C, each constructed in varying dimensions, and each carrying thousands of mythological tales, stories from the epics, shastras and puranas, through the vibrantly coloured stucco figures of gods, kings, sages, beasts and demons. They are the bearers of thousands of mythological and religious stories, standing erect through rain and sun, leading us to the shrines of the principal deity Meenakshi and her consort Sundareshwarar, placed in a huge temple complex laid out like a fort with concentric, quadrangular walls. Inside there are ten more gopurams (towers on inner walls and vestibules), equally beautiful and equally colourful, only smaller in dimensions. The shrines of the two presiding deities have gold vimaanams (towers over the sanctums) with intricate carvings.

Vishnu-Parvati-Shiva (courtesy internet)

This temple celebrates the celestial wedding of Goddess Meenakshi (Parvati) and Lord Sundareshwarar (Shiva) with Lord Vishnu, as the brother of Meenakshi, giving away the bride to the handsome Shiva. There is beautiful sculpture dedicated to this event called Kalyanasundarar in which all three of them can be seen. Meenakashi is standing between Shiva and Vishnu; Shiva holding her right hand in his while Vishnu (also known as Alagar or Azhagar) standing on the left is pouring the kannikaadanam water out of a pot. Behind them is the Karpaga Vriksha which was presented to Meenakshi by Indra during her digvijayam. There is a special mandapam called the Kambatthadi Mandapam dedicated to the celestial wedding carrying the most beautiful of sculptures of all the twenty-six forms of Lord Shiva. There is a huge statue of Nandi and the golden dhwajasthambha just outside the main shrine of Lord Shiva. The frescoes and other sculptures in the temple, too, carry scenes from this event. It is estimated that there are some 33000 sculptures in the temple complex. This temple is the confluence of all three sects of Hinduism- Shaivism, Vaishnavism and Shaktism. The marriage ceremony is celebrated to this day in the form of Chithirai Thiruvizha or Chithirai Festival. It is a twelve-day festival, celebrating the Goddess as their queen, protector, daughter and mother, which culminates in the wedding of the god and goddess on the tenth day. Thirumalai Nayakar, the great Nayak who ruled Madurai, conceived the idea of this festival in the Tamil month of Chithirai (April in the English calendar) to connect the temple rituals with the general public and bring them closer. The Chariot Festival takes place the day following the grand wedding. On the day of the wedding, Lord Vishnu’s procession from Alagar Kovil also starts for Madurai. Lord Vishu arrives in his golden horse at the Vaigai river bank. This festival also sees the amalgamation of people from two streams of faith- the Shaivites and the Vaishnavites. Other festivals are dedicated to the remaining months of the Hindu calendar. For each of these occasions the special festival idols, crafted from five alloys, of the main deities dressed in silks and decorated with precious jewels, ornaments and accessories, are carried through the streets of Madurai in huge processions ending in different rituals and ceremonies.

Alagar Kovil- Vishnu Temple

Inside the temple, there are shrines dedicated to other gods and goddesses of the Hindu pantheon. There is the huge-eight feet idol of Lord Ganesha carved from a single rock called the Mukkurini Vinayakar who is given a huge ball of rice as a special offering. You get to see it while going from the shrine of Meenakshi to that of Shiva. There are shrines dedicated to Brahma, Vishnu, Kaali, Nataraj in Velli Ambalam (Shiva in the cosmic dance pose within a silver altar with his right foot raised instead of the usual left), Karthikeya, Ganesh and Anjaneya.

And if this ancient city by the river Vaigai is home to so many gods and goddesses, can legends be far behind? Madurai was once covered with kadamba trees and there is reference to a city called Kadambavana kshetram. The forests were cleared by Kulasekara Pandyan to build a well- planned city which came to be known as Thiru Alavai. The current name Madurai is said to have come from the word madhu or nectar from the flower. The legend has it that at the time the city was built Lord Shiva himself came to bless it and a drop of nectar fell from his locks, giving the city its beautiful name. Historical and literary works, too, carry references to this very old city. The earliest being the account of Megasthenes in 3^rd C BC and also in Kautilya’s Arthashastra. Madurai finds mention in the works of Roman and Greek historians and geographers like Pliny the younger, Ptolemy, Strabo. Besides, this city is mentioned in the surviving Sangam literature as Koodal or Koodal Nagar. Koodal could refer to a meeting point or confluence, which could refer to the confluence of the river and the sea or the assembly of poets and scholars in the famous Sangam.

However, the most interesting legends are those associated with the two prime deities. The King of Devas, Lord Indra had to kill a demon Vrithrasura who was terrorising the three worlds. But the slaying brought upon Indra a grave sin since this demon was a high-born Brahmin. Indra tried various means to absolve himself of the sin but was not successful. Once, while passing through a forest of Kadamba, Indra felt himself being relieved of the burden of this sin. He looked around searching for the cause and found a Shiva Lingam in the shades of a Kadamba tree. Next to the tree was a pond with a golden lotus. Indra cleansed himself by bathing in its waters and offered the golden lotus to the Shiva Linga. Indra ordered Maya, the divine carpenter and son of Viswakarma, to bring an exquisite vimaanam on the backs of eight elephants and offered it to Lord Shiva. Hence, the vImaanam atop Sudareshwarar’s shrine is called Indra Vimaanam or Ashtagaja Vimaanam. The gold plating which we see today was done much later by Viswanatha Nayakar in the mid- 16^th C. The pond with the golden lotus can be found inside the temple complex. A legendary stork was once granted a boon here by Lord Shiva. The stork, on seeing a fish in the Golden Lotus Pond, had curbed its natural instinct to feed on it since it would vilify the sanctity of the place. Shiva appreciated this selfless quality in the bird and granted it eternal release from the cycle of birth and death. He also granted a special boon to the bird by ensuring that there would not be any marine life in that pond so that other birds would not succumb to any temptation. The pond is believed to have been a judge in deciding the aesthetic merits of a literary work in the Sangam period. A plank carrying a literary work would float if the work was acceptable and sink if it was not up to the standards.

Since the presiding deity in this temple is Meenakshi Amman her darshan is done first. The birth of Meenakshi, too, has a legend associated with it and this story is also depicted in one of its mandapams- the Ashta Shakti Mandapam. Madurai was once ruled by a king named Malayadhvaja Pandyan. He along with his wife Kaanchanmalai once did a yagna for a son since they were childless. A child appeared from the fire with three breasts. The royal couple was a little disappointed since they had wanted a male child. But a divine prophecy assured them that she was no ordinary child. She should be raised to rule the kingdom one day. The day she would meet the right suitor her third breast would disappear. She was the goddess herself who had come to them as a princess. The couple named the child Thadaathagai and took great care to raise her like the future queen. At the appropriate time she was crowned the Queen of Madurai and took the royal sceptre in her hands and became the protector of the people of this city. Thaddathagai ruled Madurai and then ventured to conquer the world. After conquering heaven and earth, she reached Mount Kailash, the abode of Lord Shiva. As she faced the Lord, her middle breast disappeared. She had found her consort. Lord Shiva came to Madurai to marry Thadaathagai and since then she became Meenakshi, the fish -eyed goddess. While Vishnu gave her away, Lord Brahma as the chief priest solemnised their marriage. All the Devas, Gandharvas, Vidyadharas, Rishis and Siddhas attended this wedding. The name and fame of Madurai city over the centuries and the well-being of the people are all due her presence in the temple dedicated to her. The five-feet idol in the sanctum sanctorum is made from a block of green stone and she is a perfect blend of beauty, grace, benevolence and poise. She is dressed like a bride, awaiting the arrival of her Lord. The image is in a standing posture with the right hand carrying a lotus and her left hand is hanging by her side. A green parrot is on her right shoulder. Her bejewelled head and face irradiate her divine presence through the layers of multi-coloured floral garlands used to decorate her. The idol is so positioned that those who cannot enter the sanctum or come too near because of the crowd can see a reflection of her entire image on a mirror placed strategically on the opposite side.

Since the Lingam had appeared on its own it is Swayambhu (self-manifested) and is also worshipped by the Devas. The shrine dedicated to Lord Shiva is bigger in size and the sanctum sanctorum holds this huge black Shiva Lingam crowned by the cobra’s hood. The lingam is surrounded by 27 lamps denoting the stars in the Hindu calendar. The imposing twelve-feet statues of two dwarpalakas seen at the entrance of the shrine overwhelm you by their majestic size and posture. The colourfully painted ceilings with floral patterns, the intricately carved pillars, the sculptures of the various forms of Shiva and Parvathi are a testament to both the human and the divine since no human had could have sculpted such forms without divine intervention. We could touch and feel each toe-nail in one sculpture of the Lord. The epitome of perfection! As you walk down the corridor towards the garbhagriha to get a darshan of the Lord, while listening to the sound of the purohits performing the aarti, chants of Om Namah Shivai echoing between the stone walls, you truly feel your insignificance and mortality in this pattern of the eternal cosmic whole.

There is a symbolic image of Shiva in the form of two feet embossed on a metal stool. This metal image stays in the Sundareshwarar sanctum during the day and is carried every night in a silver palanquin into Meenakshi’s bedchamber, in which a small idol of the goddess is also kept, symbolising their union.  The day’s pujas conclude with the offering of the holy water at the lotus feet of the Lord before he retires to the bedchambers.

Since photography is not allowed inside the temple precincts, we later bought a very colourful book published by the Arulmigu Meenakshi Sundareshwarar Temple. The book carries a lot of information and several sculptures are highlighted too. There are plenty of photographs of metal idols of the deities which participate in the ceremonial processions and rituals.   But there are no photographs of the green stone Meenakshi Amman deity or the black stone Shiva Lingam we saw inside the garbhagrihas. No cameras are ever allowed there. The idols are never brought out of the garbhagrihas. To get their darshan you need to be there in person.

Perhaps any write-up on this temple is incomplete without mentioning the Thousand Pillared Mandapam or Aayiram Kaal Mandapam. It is located in the north-east corner of the temple precinct. There are rows and rows of pillars totalling 985 carved in an area of 60,000 square feet. Viewed from any angle these pillars appear to be in a straight line. There is a long central nave with two rows of pillars leading to a two-tiered platform on which stands a huge Nataraja murti in black stone with his consort Shivagami. Pillars sculpted with Yali (a mythical beast which has features of the lion, elephant and horse) flank both sides of the approach to the Nataraja shrine. Yalis are supposed to rule over the animal world and are protectors of humans, both physically and spiritually. In this mandapa each pillar is a block of stone beautifully and intricately sculpted with figures of gods, goddesses, kings, queens, sages and demons. The list would be too long but some of the main sculptures found in this hall are those of Lord Shiva, Harishchandra, Murugan, Arjuna, Bhima, Rathi, Nagaraja, Dancing Ganapati. In the south-eastern corner of this mandapa we find a set of pillars which produce the seven notes of music. This hall was built by Ariyanatha Mudaliar, a great general and minister of the Nayakar rulers of Madurai. One of the pillars bears a statue of him. Similarly, in one wall of the corridor leading to Meenakshi Amman’s shrine we had seen a mural with the stucco figures of the ruler and patron, Thirumal Nayakar, and his queen.

And last, but not the least, is the temple elephant which lives in the temple premises and does a parikrama when the morning prayers are offered to the deities. He, too, is worshipped and revered and decorated on ceremonial occasions. We were lucky to have seen him too.

Apart from the legends, religious texts and remains of literature of the Sangam period, mention of this temple has been found in many literary works of the 6^th C. The poet- saint Thirugnaana Sambandhar (8^th C AD) has sung in praise of this temple in his Madurai Thiruppadikam. Many of the main shrines were built during the reign of the Pandyan ruler Sadayavarman Kulasekaran I (late 12^th C AD). From inscriptions that have been deciphered by Archaeological Survey of India, many additions and makeovers were done by the Pandyan rulers (12^th -13^th C), the kings of the Vijayanagar Empire (16^th C), and the Nayakars of Madurai (17^th C) who followed the architectural principles of Shilpa Shastra. It is generally understood that the original temple had suffered a lot of damage at the time of the Delhi Sultanate during invasions led by Malik Kafur and the present temple had to be re-built, though portions of the ancient temple still remain in the main shrines. Kings and common men have both played a major role through generations in safeguarding the idols and beautifying this abode of the Divine Couple.

May be, if the Goddess wills it, we shall go back once again to see the temple completely restored with its colourful gopurams towering over the mortal world and guiding our paths to the abode of this celestial couple who chose to make it their home.

Meenakashi Amman Temple (courtesy internet)

DS

Acknowledgements: The Great Temple of Madurai Meenakshi (published by Arulmigu Meenakshi Sundareshwarar Temple) and other articles in the internet.