In My Anti-Hero Era

“I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser…” 

In 2009, I bought my first CD with the cover of a girl just a year older than myself with curls flying fearlessly. Night after night and several days in my dad’s car, this CD was a constant from the college friends’ favourite ‘You Belong with Me’ to my bedtime encores of ‘Superstar’ and ‘Untouchable’. I have been a Swiftie since 2010 and while I kept up with the most popular releases from ‘Shake it off’ and ‘Blank Space’ to ‘I Knew you were Trouble’ and ‘Lover’, it was not until COVID-19 that I realized her impact and how much of a Trouble she actually was. I believe that was her intention all along, for the mastermind that she is. But the motives aside, I started admiring her literary compositions, for I believe for me, she is a poet first and a pop star next. 

 “How's one to know? I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones, in a faith forgotten land” 

I have always been vocal about how fiction can have a greater impact than the best and most awarded non-fiction. Fiction is after all real in a world that is not yours. It is an allegory, a satire, a fable or in a more contemporary way, altered or augmented reality. I still remember in school, my friends and I were quite fascinated by Linda Goodman. Disclaimer- this is neither fiction nor an indication of my life principles. But all in all, it used to be fun where you discovered how this author knew so much about you just from your sun sign. Retrospectively, it was just you relating your life events or personality traits to written words. Louisa May Alcott led us to believe that we would grow up to be strong, independent women like Meg, Jo, Beth or even Amy in our own way, with all our flaws. Tolkien’s ring is nothing but a symbol of unimaginable power in the wrong or right hands. Segal’s Love Story is not a fantasy. Hosseini’s sagas are a tribute to survivors and martyrs of all wars waged in the name of the Lord and Liberation. From Thomas Hardy to Dan Brown, authors have ultimately connected to the readers by defining or describing relatable emotions sometimes in known but often in unknown settings. And that is the mark of a good writer, to be able to communicate personally without uttering a word or knowing the audience at all. I also feel that that is what makes Taylor Swift’s music stand out. 

“I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try try” 

I write without basing any of this on her fan-theories, critical commentaries or her current popularity. I will not go into her public image over the years, or her economic powerplays. She is not the greatest of singers, and she may not have the best ‘music’ in different genres. But her versatility and creativity are undeniable. She has the ability to conjure every emotion with her skillfully crafted lyrics- happiness, falling in love, being in love, falling out of love, pain, despair, depression, desire, regret, reconciliation, remorse, loss, win, doubt, conviction, innocence, guilt, losing control, reclaiming control, hatred, jealousy, pride, shame, power, pain, recovery, death, friendship, trust, betrayal, hope, loneliness, camaraderie, hurt, acceptance, vulnerability, vindictiveness, introspection, retrospection and a lot more. She can mellifluously make a memorable impression with details in her songs with words and phrases that we use routinely- months of the year (August, September, December, July), seasons (summer, autumn, winter), time of the day (2:00, 3:00, 1:58, midnight, timeless), age (7, 15, 18, 19, 25, 32, 89), phases of life (childhood, teenage, young adults, adults, motherhood, old age), places (New York, Paris, London, India), life choices (leaving home, setting up a new home, pursuing a profession, turning down or accepting offers) and colours (red, maroon, blue, golden, grey, black). A lot of songs are complete stories often transporting the audience to different worlds, from castles and princesses to high school corridors, eerie moors to cozy living rooms, forgotten mansions to hospital rooms, hidden alleys to decked-up halls, quaint cafes to crowded bars, pine forests to churches. Students can probably learn more alliterations, similes, metaphors, onomatopoeia and antithesis and oxymorons from her lyrics than from textbooks. Apart from pop anthems and country ballads, some songs paint a vivid picture reminiscent of Austen's striking representation of ordinary people or Bronte's hauntingly beautiful imagery. 

“It was the end of a decade, but the start of an age” 

I happened to recently speak to a young girl bravely dealing with the school and entrance examinations. In her free time, she finds solace in Swift’s music. Several literary scholars acclaim her works. She can appeal to children and animate the aged. Having grown up with her, some of her older songs hit different now. I think it is the similar to appreciating Kishore Kumar or Tagore after a certain age or re-reading your favourite books after several years and developing a different kind of affinity for it. Shakespeare is hailed as a giant in literature, not because of complicated plots or intricate nature of his writings but because he could convey complex emotions through known situations which everybody, from aristocrats to common people could understand and enjoy. Swift, I feel, can weave a similar magic. It is as if with each song, she is talking about you, talking to you, or talking for you, even if you have never ever been and are unlikely to be in a similar situation. Sometimes she expresses thoughts which are lost in your head or frozen at the tip of your tongue. So, while she sings, “I can never bring you peace…”, she most certainly does. 

“I've never heard silence quite this loud” 

Today we are living in a world where criticism is the way of life, opinions are becoming more like orders, inclusivity is for the sake of being included, I for one prefer to hear someone say the same thing truthfully in better words like, “forcing laughter, faking smiles”. Is it wrong to want to escape? In an age when you must contemplate every word for it might be offensive to some stranger, and careful is the only way to be carefree, I would prefer to scream my lungs out, “I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you”, with a group of people who are united by love. Is it wrong to look for catharsis? At a time when your convictions hang on a precarious ledge and two negatives do not amount to a positive, I would want somebody to sing “your string of lights is still bright to me”. Is it wrong to seek support? 

“I want auroras and sad prose, I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet” 

Yes, I will wish she wins all the awards, and I will make a mad rush for tickets if I ever get a chance. Yes, I will applaud her determination to re-record and own her music and yes, I will listen to all her songs even if they are not Taylor’s version because they have always been her versions! Call it what you want, the haters gonna hate, so if the shoe fits walk in it…and in a world full of cynics, I am proud to be a Swiftie!

MS

Abode of the Gods

As we stood before the 100 feet seven-tiered Gopuram of the Shree Anantha Padmanabhaswamy Temple, we were simply spellbound by the innumerable sculptures made on it narrating the stories from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana on either side of it. Who were these unknown sculptors who were so familiar with the epics to have depicted them so beautifully with their chisels and hammers? Or did their inspiration, too, come from the Gods?  Right on the top of Gopuram, built in the Pandyan style in the 16^th century, is a boat or vanchi which gave the Kingdom of Travancore its ancient name of Vanchinad or the Land of the Boat. The seven identical kalashas are placed there. Right down the middle of the Gopuram are openings on every tier, all aligned in one straight line, through which the sun can be viewed two times a year- the equinoxes, when the sun rises exactly on the east and sets exactly on the west. What engineering precision! There are four main entrances to the temple situated in the four directions along with a private entrance for the royal family since Padmanabhaswamy is their tutelary deity. The ruler of Tranvancore, Raja Marthanda Varma, consecrated his kingdom to Shree Padmanabhaswamy in the mid-eighteenth century and became a ‘dasa’ or servant of the Kingdom of the Lord and his descendants are still the custodians of this temple. No wonder Thiruvanthapuram literally means the City of Lord Anantha.

The confluence of the Dravidian and the Chera style of architecture can be seen in this temple. As we made our way into the main corridor of the temple, we were struck by the artistic richness of the entrance and the cleanliness maintained everywhere. All along the rectangular corridor, running from the entrance to the main temple, there are carved monolithic pillars with sculptures of deities and each one is different from the other. Not only the deities but even the ornamental carvings on each of them are different. On looking up for more information I found that there are exactly 365 and one-quarter elaborately carved pillars in granite in this corridor. How scientific and exact could these artisans have been! The only carvings which are uniform on these pillars are the statues of the lamp bearers. Imagine being inside this temple on a night when all the diyas are lit like for the Lakshadeepam festival!

To deviate a little, we had been made aware of the dress code to be followed inside this temple before our visit- saris for women, dhoti or vesti for men as bottom wear with or without a shawl/angavastram for the top. However, we noticed that, apart from the priests and devotees in white dhotis, there were many able bodied men walking inside the corridors of the temple wearing dhotis clasped smartly with black belt and triangular khaki or blue angavastrams draped over their shoulders.  It was only when they crossed us and we could see their backs that we noticed the walkie-talkies smartly tucked into their belts and Police written on the back of their angavastrams. Innovative Kerala Police!

As we were guided along, we began our parikrama by visiting the temples of Ganapati, Bhairava (Shiva), Shri Krishnaswamy (Thiruvambadi), an avatar of Vishnu, who is seen here as the divine charioteer with a whip and a conch-shell, and Narasimhan, half-man, half-lion avatar of the Lord. This temple is among the 108 temples dedicated to Vishnu. Among many other temples in this complex dedicated to different gods there is one in honour of Ved Vyas, the author of the Mahabharata. There are two Dhwajastambhs or flagstaffs – teak wood pillars covered with silver and gold- the silver one in front of the Krishna temple and the gold in front of the main temple. Atop the gold dhwajastambh is Garuda, the vahana or vehicle of Lord Vishnu. Several ornately carved Mandapams, musical pillars and mural paintings on the outer walls of the main temple will leave all in awe of this artistic and architectural masterpiece.

As per legends the original temple is more than five thousand years old and references to this temple have been found in the Puranas, the Epics and Sangam literature. The present temple that we see was built in the seventeenth century by the rulers of Tranvancore and houses the principal deity of Lord Padmanabhaswamy or Lord Vishnu in Ananthashayanam or sleeping posture on the serpent Adi Sesha. The Garbhagriha or the sanctum-sanctorum houses this eighteen feet idol built from 12008 shaligrams brought from the river Gandaki in Nepal. Elephants carrying them took more than three years to reach their destination. Apart from the shaligrams, a special mixture of mud and herbs collected from 108 sources called katu sarkara yogam was plastered on the deity. The deity in entirety cannot be seen from one door. From the side we entered, we first got to see the Lord’s feet through the first door, then the torso through the second door from where we could see Brahma on a lotus emanating from the Lord’s navel and, finally, the face and crown with his right hand extended to settle on the Shiva Lingam.

Legend says that once Sage Vilwamangalathu Swamiyar, who performed his duties at the Padmanabhaswamy temple in Kasargod, scolded an orphan boy, who stayed with him and helped him with the daily chores.  The boy ran away from him. On realizing that the boy was none other than the Lord himself, the sage followed him through a cave to the shores of Thiruvanthapuram. There he saw the boy disappearing into a tree which then fell and took the shape of Lord Vishnu in Anathashayanam. The Lord then revealed himself in his 8-mile long form sleeping on a thousand hooded cobra or Adi Shesha. The sage asked for forgiveness and begged the Lord to condense his size so that he could see him. Even though Vishnu reduced his size the sage could not see him fully through the trees and saw only his face, stomach and feet. That is how the devotees in this temple also see him.

Many of us have read about the news of the unbelievable amount of wealth collected and stored over the centuries in its many vaults which, by Court order, were opened in 2011. Some of the vaults are opened from time to time for daily pujas and ceremonial occasions but they say there are still many unopened vaults and ante-chambers. Stories of superstitions or faith, associated with this centuries old temple, abound but it is needless to dwell on them. So I would prefer to stick to my own journey through the abodes of the Gods and great men as we made our way from Kovalam to Kanyakumari. Green, blue and gold are the three colours one can associate with the state of Kerala – the blue sea, the lush green mangroves, banana orchards and the coconut trees which adorn its coastline and, of course, its unforgettable golden beaches. Perhaps, nothing describes this land better than the well-known and much adverstised tagline of Kerala Tourism-God’s Own Country.

Our next stop was Suchindram, a small town in the Kanyakumari district of Tamil Nadu, and the famous temple of Thanumalayan. Kanyakumari was once part of the Travancore Kingdom. The legend associated with this place is that Lord Indra did penance here to get relieved or purified (suchi is the Sanskrit word for purify) of a curse. The main deity is a Trimurti or a union of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva all worshipped in one massive Lingam – Sthanu (Shiva), Mal (Vishnu) and Ayan (Brahma). Another attraction of this temple, apart from its 134 feet, 11- tiered Gopuram, is the 22 feet statue of Hanuman or Anjaneya carved from a single block of granite. I remember being mesmerized by its size almost 50 years ago but as they say everything looks much smaller as you grow up. It was certainly huge but somehow felt smaller than the image imprinted in my childhood memory. Inside the temple are the musical pillars carved from a single block of stone. Apart from the Gods, we need to bow our heads to these master craftsmen who blended art and science in such perfect harmony.

Kumari Amman Temple, one of the 108 Shakti Peethas, is one of the most sacred temples of the world. Mention of this temple can be found in the ancient Hindu scriptures, the epics and Sangam literature. Legend says that the demon King Banasura, with a boon from Brahma, became so powerful that he ousted Indra and had held all the Devas captives. He could be defeated by only a virgin girl. So the goddess Bhagavati took the form of a girl and arrived in Kanyakumari. But Shiva fell in love with Kumari and wanted to marry her. The wedding was to be at midnight. But Sage Narada was aware that only a virgin goddess could slay Banasura. When Lord Shiva left Suchindram for the wedding, Narada caused a rooster to crow. Shiva was misled to think it was dawn and the auspicious moment was gone. He went back to Suchindram and Kumari kept waiting. The Goddess remained unmarried and later put an end to Banasura’s romantic overtures by slaying him and releasing the Devas. The goddess later forgave the Banasura and blessed the waters of the holy confluence at Triveni. Having heard the many stories about the diamond on the Goddess’ nose, I felt blessed to have seen it with my own eyes.

Our last stop was Cape Comorin or the tip of the Indian peninsula, the meeting point of the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal with the Indian Ocean. What better sight from the Triveni Sangam than that of the sun rising in all its radiant splendor, despite the discernible monsoon clouds, scattering its first rays on the Swami Vivekananda Rock Memorial and the gigantic statue of the much revered poet-philosopher saint of Tamil literature, Thiruvalluvar.

Where the earth and ocean meet,

And all things seem only one

In the universal Sun.-  P.B.Shelley

 

DS

A Tale of Two Bananas

We had just finished eating one of the heaviest meals when a booming voice from behind shouted out… That’s an insult! I will not tolerate it in my country.

I turned around and saw a man who was heavily built with a thick drooping moustache and wore clothes that you would expect in very ancient times. He carried an umbrella made of coir and looked like having jumped out of the Ramlila enactments you would see in rural India. But there was something in his shining eyes and deep voice that could make anyone sit up and take notice of as someone special.

Sorry Sir. how have I insulted you or anyone else?

You have not had the drinks in the three glasses before you and more importantly not eaten the two bananas. When you are having Sadhya, you must clean off everything that is laid before you. Leaving anything untouched is an insult to the Onam celebrations.

Sir, while I get your point, you must realise that there is a limit to what we can possibly eat in one go. For over an hour now, we have been eating one dish after another. After eating all, we have just folded the banana leaf and we will be taking the two bananas with us to eat later when hungry.

Can you show me what all you have eaten? I need to check whether you are telling me the truth or fibbing.

Why should we have to prove anything to you? Who do you think you are?

Just then the hotel chef came and with folded hands requested us to comply with the funny man’s strange request.

I promise I shall give you a complimentary meal if you do as the Lord says. Don’t question him please.

Ok, Chef. Just for your sake, I will take him through the meal we just had. Please take a seat for it will take me some time to remember everything. Let me open up the folded banana leaves that will still show you traces and remnants of the feast we just had.

We entered the dining area from the lobby where a beautiful floral decoration was made to wish us Happy Onam.

The moment we sat down to enjoy the deep blue water of the infinity pool to our left and the dark waters of the Arabian Sea in front and light blue of the sky above, a young man wearing the traditional dhoti and top laid two fine banana leaves and put a bit of salt in one corner. He was followed by a couple of others who put eight varieties of pickles and pachadi (raita made with pineapple), all of different looks and taste- red, orange, pink, white, yellow. This was followed by quick bombardment of banana, pappadam, banana and jack fruit fries, jaggery and fried chillies neatly on one side of the leaf. On the other side came three varieties of vegetables. These were, avial (A mix of vegetables in a coconut and yogurt base), thorans (Stir-fried vegetables with coconut and spices) and erissery (a dish made with pumpkin, beans, and spices).

Then came the sumptuous helpings of rice with parippu curry, a thick dal with a wholesome topping of ghee. This was followed by another round of rice and sambar and pulissery, a tangy yogurt-based curry with vegetables curry. We had to almost fight off the servers from pouring any more helpings on our leaves.

Ok Sir, we will now get you the sweets specially made by our chef for today.

Yes, please bring them on. We Bongs love the sweets of all varieties.

No sooner had we uttered the sentence came round one… payasam of banana flowers which was followed by payasam of jack fruit made in jaggery. As if this was not enough, they put a folded yellow coloured sweet roti which looked more like pooranpoli we are used to at Mumbai. Another lad came in quick time and poured palada payasam (made of rice and milk) on the sweet roti.

How did it all taste? Asked the so-called Lord.

Each dish was unique and tasty to the core…. I said.

The man patted the chef on his back…Well done, my boy.

The chef stood up and with folded hands he said… Sir, I only do ten percent of the work. rest is your doing in making the food taste good. I try and put in love in everything I make and then it is you who decides and makes sure the food is good and enjoyable for all who eat it.

The man smiled at the chef and nodded his head in appreciation.

We felt full to the brim by now and there was no place for anything when they put these three steel glasses before us. One with warm red water, rasam in the second and butter milk in the third.  Chef, everything was good about the food but we have not understood why such a combination of drinks are served at the end of the meal.

These help in digestion….said the chef.

But for us this was a deadly concoction to end a super meal and after sipping a little, we decided to call it a day and we neatly folded the banana leaf to say…..We are done!

Ha ha ha… you did good and since you are not from my country it is quite natural that you are not used to drinking.

Yes Sir, we heard that during this year’s celebrations the people of this land consumed so much liquor that earned the government enough revenue to fund the next mission of Chandrayaan 4.

All these fools will go to pathalam soon.

Why pathalam Sir?

Yes, for those who enjoy here will not do it there. They will face strict prohibition there and I will make sure they do not find ways and means to procure them from anywhere else. Our prohibition policy is strictly enforced, not like on earth where bootlegging is in vogue.

Now that we have had almost 25 to 30 dishes in the Sadhya meal, can we once again fold back the banana leaves and go back to our rooms to rest?

Yes, you may go. You have done well but do carry the two bananas and eat later during the day to finish off the meal. Let me now go to the other tables to check how they have fared.

Thanks, Sir, but can we have a picture with you for our memories.

Yes, sure….and we asked the Chef to take the picture.

And the man moved on leaving us and Chef standing with our hands folded. We asked the chef…who’s he?

The man represents the benevolent King Mahabali who once ruled the three worlds. He was an Asura but because of his good deeds and qualities, he became the ruler of both heaven and earth. The Devas or Gods were very upset and asked for Lord Vishnu’s help who acceded to their requests and manifested as Vamana, the dwarf. As Mahabali was performing rituals and giving away gifts, Vamana appeared and asked for land as much as could be measured in his three steps. The moment Mahabali agreed, Vamana grew in size and put one foot in heaven and the other on earth and asked the king where he could place his third step. The generous Mahabali offered his head for the third step. Vishnu was pleased with Mahabali and offered him a boon. Mahabali asked to be allowed to visit his people once every year. His wish was granted and on Onam day, it is said, Mahabali visits his people to wish them happiness.

I turned around to take one more look at the Lord but could not see him anywhere. I gulped down the liquids in the three glasses and put the two bananas in my pocket and went to my room. At night, we ate the two fruits and wondered if it would be right to throw the skins of the sacred bananas in the bin under the reading table or find another place appropriate.

We turned believers in God’s Own Country.

Happy Onam.

SS

Kingdom of Love

Jill had been moving around the jungle for some hours and in no time her face just changed from one of utter disappointment to sheer joy. She finally found them…there they were, playing near a small pond.  Jill jumped up in delight and moved with great speed towards the two little tiger cubs. The moment the cubs saw a strange creature advancing towards them, they remembered their mother’s advice- never trust a human being and never ever trust another tiger, and they scampered to hide behind a big boulder. Jill kept approaching the place but she slowed down her pace and made some kissing sounds puckering up her lips. She reached within ten feet of the boulder and the two cubs peeped from behind to check if the stranger had left. Jill realised that she needed to get friendly with the cubs and so she took out a bar of chocolate from her backpack, broke it into two and threw them behind the boulder. She waited but did not have to wait for long. The two babies emerged from their hiding with chocolate dripping from their mouths.

Picture Courtesy Internet

Jill broke two more bars and this time threw them at a distance between the boulder and herself. The cubs stood still; then slowly started moving towards the food they had tasted for the first time. They also kept an eye on Jill who did not move any closer. The cubs suddenly ran and each picked up a portion and ran behind the boulder again. Once more, they came out looking greedily at Jill with chocolate dripping even more this time. Jill knew the opium for kids had worked even on tiger cubs. This time she broke another bar and held one in each of her palms and made her kissing sound as if asking the babies to come and take the delicious food from her. The two had by now forgotten their mother’s advice and slowly approached the good stranger and after taking the cubes in their mouths stayed there eating while Jill gently stroked their soft skin. She saw the two lick the chocolate cubes with great speed and then started wagging their tails and pulled at Jill’s socks as if saying… give me more.

Jill sat down there on the mud and took out the remaining chocolate and offered the cubs a few cubes at a time while playing with them and also picking them up at times. As the chocolate bars got finished, Jill heard a big commotion of the birds who suddenly took to their wings from all the trees in the vicinity. While Jill was distracted by the sudden flight of birds, the cubs ran away in the direction to which her back was turned. Jill quickly got up and moved around and saw, not more than twenty feet from her, a huge, stripped, ferocious creature looking at her with big solemn eyes. Jill knew that this was the Queen of Taru. Her dad had told her about this majestic animal who held sway in the jungles of Tadoba.

Jill did not panic but stood still. The two cubs now started playing with their mother who instead of charging at the strange creature standing, lay down on her side. The cubs went straight to where they got their meals from every day since their birth. But today was different. They suckled for some time and then ran back towards Jill and gestured in their own way asking for more of the sweet nourishment they had been having before Big Momma’s arrival. The Queen lay their looking at Jill with the kids playing with her. After a while, the cubs, realizing there were no more chocolates, ran back to their mother. By now it was dusk and the jungle was a dangerous place to be in unless the Queen was on your side. Next morning, Jill woke on something that seemed a furry pillow with a strong odour around the place. She got up to see that she had been lying on the belly of the tigress with the two cubs curled up near her. She could not remember how she slept there but her fear was slowly giving way to a strange kinship.

In some time, the two cubs woke up and started suckling and Jill named them Billu and Babloo and the tiny balls of fur began responding to her. They ran towards the pond once more with Jill, the Queen following them at a distance. The babies jumped into the water and then came rushing back to their Momma drawing her attention to a strange sight of a black rope like thing jutting out of the water. Jill could make out that it was the tail of a baby elephant who had possibly gone head down and was stuck in the mud below. Jill knew that elephants and tigers are mortal enemies in the jungle of Tadoba and do not see eye to eye but this was an innocent baby and had nothing to do with the enmity of the elders. She took courage and pointed out the situation to the Queen who turned around and walked away. She remembered how one of her babies from an earlier litter had been crushed under the feet of a rogue elephant not too long ago. This according to the Queen was the creator’s way of settling the accounts. Now Billu and Babloo joined Jill in pushing and frolicking around the Queen who relented soon and rushed into the knee-deep water, pushed the baby elephant out of the mud, took the calf’s trunk in her mouth and pulled him out of the muddy waters throwing him on clear ground.

The Queen then walked away from the site leaving Jill with Billu and Babloo and the new addition…the baby pachyderm who was now christened Bishu. The kids were playing and Jill joined in and created a game of their own. Jill first ran to touch each one of the three babies who tried hard to stay out of her outstretched hands. Then they understood the game and now they repeated with their paws and trunk just as Jill had shown them. It was real fun for the kids especially when Bishu tried to touch the Billu and Babloo who were definitely faster and smarter and were easily evading the baby elephant’s trunk. After a while, they felt tired and drank some water and walked towards a tree and lay down under it trying to get back their energy. All this was happening under the watchful guard of the Queen of Taru who put her head on her front legs, enjoying the sight of the playful kids.

The Queen got up in a startled manner when she heard the baboons and birds making a noise that she knew was one of danger. She turned around and saw what she was most afraid of… Badshah Khan and his band of renegade tigers. One-eyed Badshah had once ruled the Tadoba jungle but he would eat up all the tiger cubs. This included his own cubs. He knew if the cubs grew into adulthood, one day he would have to relinquish his kingdom to the new younger Tiger King. Jill had heard her father telling her the story of the jungle and knew that after the loss of her first two cubs to Badshah Khan, the Queen of Taru tried to save her next litter and fought the King. Even though Badshah was much bigger than the tigress, she fought for the lives of her cubs and fought ferociously. Badshah lost one of his eyes in the fight and had to flee the territory but before going he took with him his dozen followers who were as evil as him. Now the jungle belonged to the majestic tigress which got her the title Queen of Taru.

Today, the situation was the same with Badshah coming to devour the cubs but the fight equation was different. Instead of one on one fight of the past, here the Queen saw that she was up against not one but thirteen dangerous tigers and tigresses who had made a semi-circle around her and the cubs. She knew that this was the end game for her as there was no chance of survival or escape.  She turned to take one last look at her babies before making her last-ditch battle of survival. She saw Jill holding her babies tight in her arms. The cubs looked completely terrified. Bishu on the other hand started making a strange noise. The Queen thought, as did Jill, the baby elephant was so afraid that it was crying aloud.

Picture Courtesy Internet

The Queen now turned towards the enemy and started taking small and slow steps. The dirty army of Badshah had smirks on their faces as if to say this would be an easy kill. While they would get to devour the Queen, the leader would taste the cubs and then take back his kingdom. They now stood and kicked the dirt from their back legs as if waiting for the signal from the Boss to charge. Badshah growled, “Leave the kids to me and I shall spare you. You can still be my queen and we can rule the jungle together.”

The Queen gave out a large roar as if saying… “No, never! Leave my cubs alone.”

Badshah now responded with a spine-chilling roar and a sense of over confidence, “Then prepare to die!”

He was about to give the signal to his blood thirsty army when the jungle floor started shaking. The quake was really intense and seemed to be accompanied by drum beats. The drum roll was louder than anyone had ever heard. The warring factions stopped in their steps and looked around in awe as to what was happening. What the Dirty Dozen and the leader of the pack saw was a huge herd of elephants who had made a bigger semi-circle around them and were banging their feet in unison in a perfect beat. Just then Bishu stopped making his crying noise and ran towards his family. He ran past the dangerous tigers and not one of them dared to stop or attack him. The tigers knew that a herd of angry elephants could be the most dangerous creatures imaginable.

Instinctively, Bishu went straight to a huge elephant who was his mother and stood in safety under her belly between the four giant pillars. These elephants who, possibly, numbered anywhere between thirty to fifty stomped the earth under their feet in unison and then raised their trunks trumpeting loudly enough to damage the ear drums of all other animals. It was apparent that these otherwise gentle creatures were indeed very angry. Jill now understood that Bishu was not actually crying earlier but was calling out to his mother and family for help.

Badshah and his gang understood that it was time to make a hasty retreat. Today was not the day for madness and combat. The chances of survival were simply non-existent. The gang got together as a pack with the leader hiding in the centre and started running towards the water hole. They ran past the Queen, Jill and the two cubs as fast as they could for now the elephants were on their tails. The huge elephants could run fast when it was required and now they were angry at Badshah and his pack who had threatened one of their calves, so they upped their pace by a gear. The elephants kept running hard till the tigers were driven out of Tadoba.

Bishu and his mother came close to the place where the Queen and the cubs stood. The mother stretched her large trunk and patted Billu and Babloo gently on their backs. Bishu went close to the Queen of Taru who licked the baby elephant’s face and ears a number of times. Jill felt happy she knew that going forward the two warring families would put behind past bad blood and live in mutual friendship and peace. Just then she felt a big shaking movement…someone was rocking her repeatedly.

Darling, wake up. Since how long have I been trying to get up. You have to go to the school today.

Jill opened her eyes and kissed her father…. Ok Daddy, but promise me that tonight you will tell me the story of the Black Panther of Kabini .

Sure, I will. You’re just six now and who knows someday you may become part of NatGeo’s crew filming animals in the wild or join Ruskin Bond’s club of story tellers.

SS.

Que Sera Sera

On my way home from work, I saw the small temple with my favourite God sitting stoutly all alone and the lights switched off. I knew where the pujari kept the key so I took off my shoes and went inside for a talk on things that had been disturbing me for quite some days. He knew me well as I would be passing by almost daily and waving at him, smiling at him, bowing to him and at times dropping my God Services Tax (GST) at the counter.

God Bhai, I am back.

Why again? Go home and enjoy Netflix with her. I too wish to relax after a hectic day.

You, too, watch Netflix?

Yes, why not. I have my Godflix which has all channels and is absolutely free.

Lucky you!

Now that you are here, hope you will not bother me with your silly questions?

Questions I do have, but not silly. These are important and have been keeping me awake at nights.

Listen, can you tell me your questions in brief.

Oh, so now you want me to take off my clothes like a sadhu at Kumbha and speak to you wearing only my brief.

Arrey idiot, not that brief. Just keep this conversation short and your talk to just one liners otherwise you just keep on blabbering so many things at a time, I am unable to understand anything. And for today, just limit your questions to two in line with the two new flicks which have got released. Want to see both OMG and Gadar2 tonight.

Ok. Got it. You teach people that good begets good.

Yes, that’s right. So?

You also say that doing selfless service for humanity will bring you the grace of the Lord.

Correct again. So where’s the confusion?

Sorry to disappoint you but I am not in agreement with your saying that good begets good.

What makes you doubt this time tested saying?

One of my class teachers in school had renounced worldly pleasures and was responsible for transforming the lives of hundreds of students through his work on and off the class room.

Such teachers are now rare.

This man not only helped almost a generation of students in our school, but later went on to train tribal boys and girls in vocational studies to be able to find employment in life.

I must meet such a noble soul. Where can I find him?

I will give you the address where the man lies with tubes coming out of all places in his body and machines to monitor his organs round the clock.

Oh, so now I understand why you are so disturbed.

What happened to your grace God? How did he miss your attention?

I cannot even say that I am not God and can’t do everything but at times my ways are strange and no one size fits all.

So you are still testing my teacher?

Possibly.

Okay, so I get it that he is still not ready to be accepted and must suffer more.

I maintain balance and equilibrium in this world of extremes. Your revered teacher may also have had his share of good fortune in life. Everyone gets their share of good times and bad. No one gets everything all the time.

Why him? There are so many people who are doing wrong things and yet they seem to be prospering and living good lives.

I can understand your anger and frustration so let me qualify my universal saying that good generally begets good.

Sorry God. It may sound bad but in this one case, I beg to differ and can only pray to you to give my teacher an early release from the suffering and pain.

Can we close this conversation here and move on to you your next and final question for the night?

My second question stems from the first one…what happens after?

After what?

I mean once a person attains mukti, how does he reach the gates of heaven or hell?

That’s a silly question.

No, God Bhai, it is not silly. Different religions have different ways of doing the last rites and yet you have always maintained, the end state is the same.

I have not yet got your point.

Let me explain… some are put on pyres and turn to ashes, some are put in coffins and buried beneath the surface and then there are other rituals where you are left to nature to take its course.

Yes, different ways for different religions. So what?

You mean to say the ashes thrown on rivers and lakes, the bones beneath the earth and the carcass out in the open, all find the right path to the two destinations including the ones lying beneath the great pyramids with all the gold and jewellery.

It is the soul that travels and not the ashes and the bones.

And it is you with GPS- God Positioning Services- that guides the souls where to go.

Yes, I do.

And how do you decide who goes where?

It all depends on how you have lived your life here.

So then help me understand this better. Bear with me for once and for this more than a one-liner.

Tathastu

Say two men Jack and John die the same day and are put inside their respective coffins and put beneath the soil by their loved ones. Jack was a good person and lived a good life and did service to the society. John was just the opposite. You mean the souls of the two men will find some secret tunnels and the Oppenheimer powered suction pumps at the two HQs will take them rightfully there.

What is it that you mean by HQs?

Heaven Quarters and Hell Quarters… easy for us who do texting. Yet to find equivalent emojis.

Yes, to what you just explained in your words.

You mean there is no checking again at the gates for Aadhar, Pan and Passports?

No, we are using AI.

What Artificial Intelligence being used by the Gods!

Not artificial intelligence, my friend. That we have left to the human race for they are bereft of Any Intelligence. We are using Actual Intelligence and it works. No one can hack it or seek ransom. We have one code to run it..Que Sera Sera…what will be, will be.

SS

Khana, Dostana Aur Party-ana

India-wali Party

Listen, I very strongly feel you should join INIDA.

Arrey bhai my passport, Aadhar and every document shows I am from India and an Indian.

I am not talking about that India, I mean INDIA…Join us. You can get us the insurance votes across the country.

Nahi baba… the day I join your INDIA, I will have ED, IB, NSA and IT at my throat and the online army will decimate me, my family and my friends. Anyway, other than casting my vote, I have no intention of joining politics. Moreover, why should I join you?

You don’t know? I was a junior to you in school.

With that logic, I should have joined movies with SRK who was also a junior…..forget it, Ra.

You will soon be retiring. This will give you a good cause to work for…INDIA! I will chase you till you agree to join the noble cause.

You better chase a pretty damsel and forget about me. India is in my heart and shall always remain there. I am happier with my friends and food. There was an India before me and there will be an India after me. Whether the INDIA you now represent will win or not is best left to the intelligent Indians who will decide in ‘24. As far as my retirement plans are concerned, I am not planning anything. For now, I am connecting with my friends and enjoying the food from different parts of this glorious land called India. Bye Bye INDIA…Hello India as I hop on to a cab to drive to my friend RP’s place in the heart of the Lutyens’ city.

Dilli-wali Party

Delhi is my city of birth, the city of my school, my college and one that houses a myriad memories and my many friends. So today was the day when a bunch of school friends came together to enjoy what was called a Wenger’s Party. So, for those not from Delhi, Wenger’s is the city’s oldest and, for many, still the best confectioner.  Every year my daughter’s birthday cakes in Delhi would come from this iconic shop in Connaught Place. This was also the place from where my father would bring home puffs and patty a couple of times in a year and those were, indeed, big festive days in the house. Started in 1926 in Kashmeri Gate, Wenger’s moved to its current place in 1933. Owned originally by a Swiss couple named Wenger, it was the place where the British bureaucrats, foreign diplomats and Indian royalty went before independence. It changed hands to Indian owners in 1945 and has been serving and delighting Delhi-walas with the best cakes, pastries and snacks. But today was different. A few school buddies, with whom the bond was well over fifty long years, came together and got the chicken patties, shaami kebabs and pineapple pastries. It was just marvellous eating down the memory lane. The taste was as heavenly as it was then, just that the company of friends made it even tastier.

Patna ki Shaadi-wali Party

As I landed in Patna, which possibly has the smallest airport I have even been to, I saw the entire city decorated with pictures of Ra, So, Ni, Mo, La…. You name any and they were there welcoming you to the ancient historic city of Pataliputra. The opposition conclave was happening in two days’ time. My phone buzzed… it was him on the other line… I hope to see you in the meeting in the next two days.

No ways, buddy. I shall fly back to Mumbai the day you land. I am here to enjoy a wedding party and not to be a part of INDIA party…and I switched off my phone completely.

I was determined to enjoy the wedding of the daughter of a friend for over thirty-five years. This good friend came for my wedding in Kolkata in 1989 and then we went for his at Patna in 1990. When his elder daughter got married in 2018, my better half went to Bangalore. He came down from Kenya with his family for my daughter’s wedding at Mumbai in 2020 and now here I was at his younger one’s wedding at Pataliputra. I was joined by two other friends of the same vintage and one of whom was the official photographer at my wedding and the other arranged for a make shift honeymoon for us in Orissa.

On the day of the wedding, we drove off to see the holy Patna Sahib Gurudwara where the tenth guru of the Sikhs, Guru Gobind Singh ji was born in 1666. Takht Sri Patna Sahib is also known as Takhat Sri Harmandir ji Patna Sahib and the original gurudwara was built by Maharaja Ranjit Singh in the 19^th century. I have always loved the feel of the gurudwaras where peace and tranquillity prevail at all times everywhere from the entrance to the place where your shoes are taken charge of by an elderly man with his hands folded in respect, and then, from the sanctum sanctorum where the Granth Sahib is kept and the gurbani is recited to the distribution of the kada Prasad. To me this is the best prasad of all for the pure desi ghee will stick to your palms and the flavour will linger much after you have gulped the manna down.

Now, with the blessings of the Gurus, we asked our Uber driver to take us to the place where you could get the best litti-chokha in Patna. The fellow was so happy that we had literally given him the driving wheel to treat us to local food that he meandered through many small lanes and by-lanes and, after about thirty minutes of driving, stopped at a busy road-side and showed us where to walk across to eat. We asked him to join us as we plunged our fingers into a couple of freshly baked littis with   the tastiest chokha and all the four plates cost us less than a hundred bucks. A look at the food cart had many colourful pictures pasted and the man proudly claimed that his food had won many an award in the Asian Street Food Festival held in Manila.

If you are wondering what on earth this food that originated in Bhojpur and Eastern UP called litti-chokha is, then let me explain.  Litti is a whole wheat flour dough ball that is stuffed with an earthy, spiced mixture of sattu or roasted black chickpea or kala chana flour. Chokha, on the other hand, is a very basic mashed relish made of vegetables like brinjal (aubergine/eggplant), potato, tomato. It is what the vada-pav is for the Marathi manoos and the idli-vada is to the people down south. It is the food of the common people and I was surprised to learn that you could also get non-vegetarian litti-choka. For another time!

On seeing the baraatis dance without the usual jerks and fervour, I realised it was not because they were not happy at the occasion but it had more to do with the present government’s strictly implemented prohibition policy in the city. They took a relatively quick round of dancing and came back to the venue early, quite expected given the heat of the summers in the city and absence of any spirit-ual incentive for the revellers. The marriage was a grand affair and the food stalls were so many and so well spread that the food eaten at one end would get digested by the time you reached the dessert counter at the other end. And what did I eat of the big spread? Litti-chokha once again! The litti here was soaking in desi ghee and tasted even better than the Asian Champion’s stall at Rajendra Nagar in the morning. My only regret at Patna was that I missed tasting a few of the forty types of samosas which one of the vendors near the hotel was selling.

Sonu te Monu di Party

Once more on landing at Bengaluru on the 14^th of July, I was greeted with even bigger cut outs of all the leaders of the soon to be named union called INDIA. At this conclave of 29 leaders, they were going to formalise and announce their grand plans for the big fight of ’24. I had begged the not so young leader of the national party to ensure that cut outs of me did not figure anywhere even by mistake. It took me one whole day to convince him that my retirement and the coming into the political fray would be like the re-enactment of Tolkien’s The Return of the King and such magical and mystical things happened in the fairy tales and Hollywood screens.

I had some time in the evening and called out to my asli chuddi wala dost who has been my partner in crime, love, sport, travel…you name it and we were together almost all days for many years…over a decade and a half. We were simply inseparable! We had lost connect for many years lately but thanks to our blogs, he connected and started commenting on almost every blog we wrote. I knew this was his way of saying….chal dost milte hain…I knew he was working in the Garden City so, instead of messaging, I picked up the phone, scrolled for his number and without wasting time on pleasantries, invited him for dinner. He immediately accepted the invitation. Now my challenge was to find an iconic and special place and I picked The Only Place to eat with this special friend.

In 1965, Haroon Sulaiman Sait started as a B&B called Regent Guest House on Brigade Road. The place attracted a lot of foreigners. To serve them, Sulaiman changed the menu to steaks, pizzas and burgers. One Japanese liked the food so much that he made a sketch of lips smacking on a napkin and called it ‘the only place’ and so the eatery got its new name and logo and is now located at Museum Road. It is now the go to place for those who want to have authentic steaks and burgers. It is frequented by the who’s who of Bangalore and overseas guests.  My friend and I had a super steak and lamb lasagne and topped it with an apple pie. The food was just too good and the ambience so welcoming and serene that you could spend hours sitting there. The food was most reasonably priced and to us friends, who had grown up enjoying chhole-bhature outside Ambedkar Stadium in Delhi before the innumerable DCM and Durand Cup football matches that we saw together, this was truly a grand feast and a super reunion.

Yeh hai mera India, I love my India.

SS 

The Old Monk

Ma, I am coming home.

Why…what’s wrong?

I cannot take it anymore. Everyday it is the same thing. I am done with it!

Beta, you do not get a well-paid government job easily. You cannot give it up so easily. What will you do after coming back home?

Ma, every day he ridicules me in public, shouts at me in his chamber and makes me feel terrible and I hate going to work. Not just hate but I am getting into the initial phase of depression and I fear it will get worse if I continue here. Who knows what I will end up doing!

Why does he behave this way? Why don’t you listen to him and do the work properly?

Ma, I do everything he tells me. I take so much pains to make sure whatever work he gives me, I do it well but he is someone I have realized I can never make happy. He finds faults at everything I do. He is bad to all but he picks on me more than anyone. Everyone calls him khadoos but to me he is a jallad.

Should I ask Pa to go to Kolkata and speak to him?

No Ma, please don’t send Pa. It will get worse for he will think I have complained and I am not a school boy anymore that my father has to come and sort out matters at my work place.

Don’t cry, beta. Ok give yourself another three months and if you still feel you wish to quit, then I will not stop you. I will come and bring you home. Please don’t cry…

Three months, Ma, and no more….and Subodh put the phone down.

Subodh had got his first job in a government insurance company and was posted in Kolkata where his boss, Mr. Bose, was a terror. No one at work liked the man for he would snub people and belittle them at the smallest pretext. Not one person spoke well about him. It had been his first month at work and Subodh made the first of his many mistakes. He sought Mr. Bose’s approval to go to the company’s trials for selection of the Company’s football team. The look he got and the mouthful of volley that started that day and continued for days together kept him awake at nights with the abusive words echoing in his ears. His next mistake was seeking long leave to prepare for the civil services examinations. The football episode repeated itself in a much larger and louder way and possibly the interview board in Delhi may have heard it as well. His third mistake was having written a poem in the office magazine... Keep doing everything except work…Subodh was now a marked man… a pariah who had to be whipped and set right every day, every moment. From then on, Subodh prayed that he would rather be unemployed and stay at home rather than go to office which, for him, had become the gas chamber wherein he had a Star of David tattooed on his face.

Next morning, after speaking with his mother, a terror stricken Subodh entered office waiting for his torture to commence any moment. A couple of hours passed but the voice was not heard. News trickled in with the record clerk Ram Babu announcing gleefully to all that Mr. Bose was not keeping well and will not be coming to work for the next few days. Subodh heaved a sigh of relief…phew…did my mother’s prayers do the trick and save me from the villain? He knew that a mother’s prayers had a lot of power but he also knew that his mother would not curse anyone no matter how evil the other person was. So the next two days went off well. Happiness had descended on the office in those two days but then, as they say, good times don’t last forever. On the third day, which happened to be a Thursday, Subodh was asked by his Manager to take an important file to Mr. Bose’s residence for his signature. Since it was a matter that would have to be put up in the forthcoming Board Meeting, the file with the Head of Department’s signature had to be submitted to the Company Secretary by Friday.

Why me, Sir? I have not even worked on this file and do not know anything about it.

No wonder Mr. Bose gets so angry with you… must you argue on every issue? Listen, you are the junior most in the department and you stay not too far from his residence, so you have to go. His address is typed on the cover of the sealed envelope. Make sure you get his signature today after office and hand me the file first thing tomorrow morning.

Subodh knew why he had been picked for the errand. He took the file from the manager and put it carefully in his bag. He knew that all the others listening to the conversation were smiling and imagining the scene that would be enacted in the evening and saying, like Ashok Kumar would say after each episode of the first Hindi soap opera on television, …”Aur dekhenge Hum Log.”

Subodh took a packed minibus and got off at his usual stop. He knew the housing society where Mr. Bose lived and started walking slower than ever towards the gate. Before every step his heart said…stop…don’t go…but he dragged himself there anyhow. As he entered the society, he saw a small club house where some boys were playing carom outside and others were having tea in earthenware kulhads while enjoying what Bongs are best at…adda. He took out the file from his bag and asked…Dada, how do I go to this address? The boys saw the name and the address ad started laughing….Paaglar baari… the mad man’s house…. Just keep walking around the compound and wherever you hear some madman shouting, you will know that you have reached the right house. Anyway, to save you the trouble, just go straight and take the second right turn and the house is the first on the ground floor.

So the Jallad’s reputation was universal, Subodh thought, and he was not the only one but still asked God…Why me? There were so many of us who graduated together from the Insurance Academy and got different postings, yet you choose this one for me? Must be some enmity from the previous life… karma.

Subodh reached the house and saw the name plate and knew he was at the right door. With a heavy heart he knocked on the door and waited. There was no response for quite some time. He must have knocked too gently for anyone to hear, so this time he knocked harder. He heard the dreaded voice from inside… Basanti, just see which idiot is out there banging on the door as if we are all deaf here.

A middle aged woman in saree opened the door slightly with the chain lock in lace…Yes, who are you and what do you want?

I am Subodh Gupta from Mr. Bose’s office and am here to meet him.

She shut the door and came back, opened the door just enough to be visible while saying, he does not want to meet you.

I am here to take his signature on a file. Please give this to him.

She took the file and again shut the door on his face.

Subodh waited diligently outside the house for about fifteen minutes and then the door opened once more. The woman handed the envelope back to Subodh and quickly shut the door. On the sealed envelope a large white tag had been pasted over the address and written in black and bold…Highly Confidential. He knew what that meant so he put the envelope back in his bag and started walking back… this time there was a spring in his steps. Even though he did feel a bit insulted in having to wait outside the door for long, but not having had to face the man was a cause enough to celebrate. He could breathe freely.

As he was walking out of the society gates, the boys at the club shouted…Obaak kando, tui beche aachhish…what a miracle that you are still alive! Subodh did not mind and smiled back at them. Outside the gate he saw a jhaal muri wala with a big crowd around him. He loved jhaal muri and bought a packet and started munching while sitting on a cemented seat outside the society gate. In some time, he saw the woman who he had met at Mr. Bose’s house coming out of the society with a boy of eight or nine, arguing about something. As they came close, he overheard the boy asking his mother to buy him jhaal muri but the mother said she could not afford it. Subodh stood up and smiled at the woman and offered to buy the jhaal muri for her son and she did not object. As the boy stood in the queue to buy, the woman spoke in Bangla which, in the last few months at Kolkata, Subodh had mastered to a manageable degree.

Dada, I am sorry. Sir does not like guests at home and speaks badly to a lot of people but he is a good man at heart. Last year when our house was destroyed in the cyclone, Sir gave us the money to rebuild it. He has also arranged work for my husband in one of his friend’s factory. He takes care of my son’s education and on weekends helps him with his studies. He listens to classical music and reads books often from dusk to dawn.

But then why does he behave the way he does with others?

I do not know, Sir. He has been taking care of his bedridden mother for the last eight years and does most of her work himself whenever he is around even though there is a professional help round the clock. He himself does not keep well but refuses help from anyone. He is a perfectionist and gets angry when you make the slightest of mistakes. I feel the heat almost daily but I know the man well by now and accept it as part of my life knowing fully well that he means no harm or evil in what he says. It is just that he is incapable of expressing softly and lovingly. It is an exterior he has built up over the years and that has now become a part of him and he cannot change it. He is just like a coconut…hard from outside and watery and soft from inside.

By now the boy had bought his jhaal muri and the two bid Subodh good bye after thanking him. He wondered…the coconut definition for Basanti may be true but how do I enter the soft side when all I get to experience is the hard shell falling over my head every day and every hour. He walked back to his house and at night recalled everything the woman had said. He repeated the same to his mother who said, Bimaar hai bechara…the man is sick. Don’t feel bad at anything he says or does. Start thinking like Basanti and learn the good things he has to offer the hard way. Who knows someday you may get to thank him and who knows like him as well.

Fast forward twenty years.

Subodh is now a senior executive in another company at Bombay when the phone rings… the voice had not lost the decibel levels and the tongue was still as sharp… I am going to Canada to visit my nephew and will take a break journey at Bombay both ways. I will be staying with you.

Yes, Sir…we would love to have you with us. Why don’t you stay for at least a couple of more days on the return leg? I promise to keep your Old Monk and tonic water well stocked this time.

There was a laughter from the other end……Ok, but tell Rachana to prepare my ilish with shorshe.

Yes Sir, my vegetarian wife will surely cook your favourite dishes…looking forward to seeing you, Sir.

Tell Guddi, I have managed to get the Tolkien’s Collection from College Street for her.

SS