PIETY AT KASIAPURAM
Immediately after appa’s wedding, the little family comprising the young newly married couple and their child, that is I, settled in a house in Madurai. But the connection with the birthplace and its attraction for me was there for a very long time. Though we visited Kasiapuram only during the vacations, the visits had a great impact on me. Virtually there used to be a great magnetic pull towards it, at least till I reached my twenties. The nights before the travel by train to my native place were always sleepless. I would try to gather as many things as possible for the friends there at the village. Glass marbles that I took from Madurai were attractions to friends in the village. In the same way the things I gathered from the village were great attractions to friends back in Madurai. The latter used to wonder at the kal kundu, handmade stone marble that I would get in exchange of glass marbles. If I tried to smuggle to village such novelties from Madurai, father would bring Wren & Martin grammar book without my knowledge to give me special coaching during the vacation. Such sessions would make me feel that appa was tyrant and spoilsport of my vacation.
Probably till I reached my teens, days in Kasiapuram had more religious activities. The family-run school was also used as the local church of the village. By the time I got shifted to Madurai the two aunts who were taking care of me when I was in the village had left Kasiapuram. The elder one became a nun and the younger one got married and left. In their place were now two other aunts, father’s youngest sisters, were ruling the roost! Of these two, the elder one was very close and affectionate towards me and she too became a nun later. Her name is Rose. Rose aunty, a very pious one, used to carry out all the church activities. During the vacations not only our families, but two other families would land up at Kasiapuram. Total number of cousins from these families would be fairly large and we were considered by the locals as special since we had come from big towns. All these cousins would gather every evening at the school-cum-church for prayers along with the local children. In the months of May, Rose aunty would arrange special prayers for St. Mary, since we, Catholics, devote the month of May to Mary.
On every evening in May, all the kids from the Christian families would gather in the church and from there we would march out and would visit a Christian family. There we would have a little prayer and a few devotional songs. Rose auntie’s voice used to be very sweet. She would lead the ‘chorus’ – a real chorus since we, the kids, would sing in our own ragam and timing! The best part of this would be the march. There was no electricity in the village on those days. So we would carry a hurricane light and one candle. Treading through the dark lanes of the village to reach our spot would be very hard even to imagine for those who were born and brought up after electricity became common. The candle bearer would lead the group. Invariably some would falter in dark and would fall down. All other kids would enjoy at the fall of one of themselves. Such skirmishes and mischief would never distract our Rose aunty; she would be in her own world of singing and praying. Murukku and black watery coffee made with jaggery supplied at the end of each such prayer meeting at different houses were the routine things given to the prayer group. Still I remember the taste of those two and how much we enjoyed them.
One another interesting and different thing in Kasiapuram was the weekly market or chandai. In those days every big village would have some weekday as the chandai day. Varieties of merchandise, starting from grains, seed grains, agricultural utilities and such vital materials for the populace to novelties like glass bangles would be brought on that day. Usually such chandais would be in some common place earmarked for that. Visiting the chandai at late evenings with aunts or appamma is still fresh in my memory. This chandai was just a few houses away from ours and one could hear the noise from this chandai. I don’t know why I imagined then that the noise from the chandai sounded to me like that of an ocean. Probably a matter of perspectives!
Now for the bad thing. It was my first experimentation with smoking. There may be genetically something in me, which made me always attracted to the ‘aroma’ of smoke – whether it is from a beedi or a cigarette. Till this minute I have that weakness inbuilt in me. Though it is now more than one and half decade that I stopped smoking still the love for it continues. It is right when it is said that a smoker is always a smoker. During one of our summer visits to Kasiapuram a big jing-bang got together and ventured an outing with the sole aim of stealing some nice moments of smoking. We would have been around 6 in number. First day it was in the tamarind-thoppu. One by name Johnson not only initiated but also volunteered to supply the much-needed beedis and a matchbox. In our village beedi-making is a big profession for many, young and old, male and female. So every home had people who were in this trade. But it was considered below our dignity in our families and so none in our households was involved in this. So it had to be somebody who would be ready to sneak a bundle of beedi for us. And it was Johnson.
We all went into the interior of the thoppu, which was next to our school. Sitting around the trunk of a big tree and trying to hide ourselves from any passerby and at the same time trying to light our beedis in that windy condition – all these made our adventure more exhilarating. If we saw something moving we would all douse our beedis and run away in search of newer and safer places. Mostly we were running around than smoking. So when the session was over we felt that we did not enjoy it at all. So I and two of my cousins – one younger and another elder to me – decided that we should try the costlier thing, the cigarettes. First we planned to pool our resources. Once that was done the next thing was selecting a safe hideout. We did select a very dangerous spot. It was the well where we were trying to learn swimming that summer. It was quite away from our village and it was on the way to the next bigger village on the main road, Alangulam. We had to have a purchasing spot other than our village shops since news of the purchase in any shop in our village would immediately reach our respective families. So we had a meticulous planning. We chose a shop. We decided that the buyer would be youngest among the three of us. He was not a town-guy like me and the other cousin. So he could always escape with the excuse that the cigarettes were for some other relative of him. At least that is what I told him and made him buy the cigarettes. It was a full pack of Berkley cigarettes. Of course with a matchbox. We straightaway went to the chosen well and the water was a few feet deep from the top and so we climbed down and chose a cozy corner of the well. We settled comfortably and started to get on with our job in hand. Only then we found that it was not that easy for amateurs like us to light the cigarette and have nice puffs. Each step was very hard. Lighting the cigarette against the winds, we never imagined, would need so much skill. Then keeping the cigarette tip dry was absolutely impossible. Even before we lit the cigarette the tip would be fully drenched with our saliva and had to be pinched off. Getting a few puffs was a race against time, as the tips were soaked with our saliva sooner than we puffed!
Anyway, we were in our own world coaching, encouraging and chiding each other. We forgot the world above us, I mean, the world outside the well. We were simply ‘frogs in a well’. Then we had two of our cousins, very seniors to us, descending on us from nowhere. We were caught red-hot-cigarette handed. They scolded and more than that blackmailed us saying that they would report the matter to our families. And that was like sentencing us to the ropes. We pleaded. Then they proposed a deal. We were asked to write on the cardboard of the cigarette box itself a promise that we would never smoke thereafter at all in our whole lives. And then the cousins tore that into very small tiny pieces and threw them into the well and told us that we could smoke only if we join all the bits of papers; else we should never smoke. We made the solemn promises. It appears that of the three of us, my two cousins kept that promise but I continued to smoke throughout my school days whenever there was a chance. I liked it so much. During the end of my degree course I became a habitual smoker and continued that thing for 26 long years, till 6th January,1990.
The late teens had one more attraction in this village life. It was the amman-kodai, the annual festival celebrated for ten days. Though our village was small it had a big temple disproportionate to the local population. But during this festival people from all over the State, especially those who migrated to Chennai would turn up in large numbers. Festive mood would be in every individual and in every nook and corner of the village. Dance programmes would go long into the night. Don’t imagine that there would be grand stage for these dances. It would be all in open spaces in and around the temple. In those days dance in such festivals meant only the folk dance, karagam. We would take vantage points so that we would be able to have an eye on the girls for whom we had a crush or vice versa. Truly the girls would be very romantic during that festival time. Stolen glances and secret signs would fly across the dancing floor. But once the festival was over, they would turn blind eye to us. We had to wait for the next year for the romantic period.
Thus it was church-related joyful days till I was ten, then it was visits to chandai and our hunting that made our village visits joyful, and lastly in the late teens and early college days it was this annual festival that brought cheers to the vacation in our village. But all these faded and I was becoming more and more a town boy because in the early years at least twice we visited the village, a short visit during Christmas and a longer one during summer. As years passed, we stopped going for the Christmas. Visits during summer also got slowly reduced
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Saturday, July 29, 2006
31. 2 EARLY DAYS AT KASIAPURAM
MY VERY EARLY DAYS AT KASIAPURAM
After mother’s demise, father lived as single in Madurai while I was left with my grandma – I called her appamma – at my father’s native village, Kasiapuram. It was just a few miles away from my mother’s place. I very vaguely remember how I was doted by appamma and two of the 4 sisters of my father. These two aunts were then working as teachers in our own school run by our family. Pattaiya, that is my grandfather, was the one who started that school, the very first in that area. If I remember right, it was St.Joseph’s Elementary School. I remember my aunts taking me by hand to the school everyday since appamma used to be busy doing her daily score at the fields. How vividly I visualize even now the dawn-to-dusk hard manual work the womenfolk at home did. Father used to visit me now and then during his vacations. What stands out during those visits, firstly, as soon as he came home my aunts would lift me in their arms and weep inconsolably. The sight of my father would open the floodgate of their grief on the demise of my mother and my ‘motherless status’. Not knowing the reason for their grief, I would also cry along with them. In those first few minutes, a pall of gloom used to hang over the whole household. Secondly, father used to bring something or other every time he paid those visits. The usual and much-expected thing would be grapes. What we used to get in those days mostly were green, sour grapes. But the grapes father used to bring were black, sweet and juicy and were called Hyderabad-grapes. During one such visit he brought me a tri-cycle. Probably half of the kids of the village should have been around it when the news of its arrival broke out. None would have seen such a cute thing in their lives. I very well recollect that it arrived well packed with flannel tapes. Body painted in bright green, solid wheels in bright red and black rubber handle grips. None in the village – leave alone the children – would have seen such a cute little thing. It was a treat to watch in those days. I was too young to pedal it myself. I would simply sit on my tricycle and there would be severe competition to push me around in our backyard. Duraisamy, a distant cousin of mine was my favored one to push me around. For many years whenever I visited my village I would try to meet him. In the latter years I always found him sitting in a petty shop in an inebriated condition. A five or ten rupee note would in such times make him very happy. One day I got my right toe in the wheel in one such push-me-around sessions. Blood scared everybody and after that accident none came forward to treat me with the ‘royal pushing’. It compelled me to learn to pedal myself. Then I was free to ride around the whole village. Probably in the history of our school, for very many years mine was the only vehicle parked under the trees during the class hours. When I leave in my cycle to our house, there would be scores of people watching a little kid majestically riding his tri-cycle. A real cynosure!
This cycle remained in the family for nearly forty years – that too in full use – as the ‘family tri-cycle’. Only thing, my daughters were denied the chance of enjoying it while other children of my other sisters ‘inherited’ it and rode around. Another novelty of those years in our village home was a mechanical-gramophone – the only of its kind for miles around in that area. My aunts would play the very few records we had only on very special occasions or for visitors coming only for the purpose of seeing and listening to the ‘musical wonder’ of those years. It was a proud possession of the family for a long time since electricity came very very late to our village. Most of my childhood memories belong to those ‘powerless’ days.
So went those days in Kasiapuram. Everybody in the village would be a relative. Every relative petted me. Everybody had a soft corner for me since I was a motherless child. This should have done a lot to my psyche at that age itself. It was one type of recognition I got for many years.
There was a lady-teacher in our school. She was close to my aunts. She was from a nearby village, called Kuruvankottai or something. Everyday she used to come to our home to take her lunch with my aunts. Though her face got completely erased from my mind I still remember her as a very fair, slim and beautiful lady. I don’t remember why and how it happened – probably people were talking about that – I very much wanted that she should become my mother. I don’t know how that proposal got fizzled out. Then comes father’s wedding. I have never found an answer as to why and how I remember many of the things in my life very clearly after that wedding while most of the earlier happenings are all so foggy.
Well, coming back to the day of father’s wedding, inside that village church it was a sort of triangle – my father in front near the altar, I, on the side of church in that big chair and the entrance through which the bride was expected any moment. She then entered. She was in a golden yellow pattu saree, thickly brocaded with golden jaree. Seeing a Christian bride with a veil over her head should have been a novelty for the local people. A group of kids followed the bride marveling her dress. She looked quite pretty but the face had seriousness in it. Probably it was due to the bridal tension. In the latter years also she carried that perpetual seriousness on her face. I always liked her smiling face but never that seriousness-laden face. The wedding was in my mother’s village, since father’s new bride was a close relative of my mother. I was never able to remember any other person, especially the relatives of mother attending the wedding.
It is more like a movie with a lot of cut-shots. Because the next thing that I am able to recollect was the wedding procession through those village streets towards the bride’s house. It was in an open car. I was seated sandwiched between the couple – appears very odd even now to me! Could be compulsion of ….I don’t know what. There were people looking at me during the procession. Those faces showed mixed feelings.
The next cut-shot is father’s village in the late evening of the wedding day. In this scene, the whole village had converged on to my pattaiya’s house as was the custom of those days. There were a few petro-max lamps brightening the celebration. Kids were hovering around those lamps – another novelty for them. The house, to the village standards of those years, was comparatively a large one – one of the few storied houses in the whole village. There were three entrances. I was sitting on the steps on the southern side, a side entrance. I was engrossed looking at the urchins playing around the hissing lamps competing with the buzzing insects. Someone from behind touched my shoulders. I turned and looked up. It was father in pattu dhothi. He sat near me. He asked me who was the bride to me. I said “chithi”. That was what I was told. Father said, “She will be hereafter your amma and you should call her so. Okay? “. I said yes and kept that word always. Not for the namesake. I meant it always. Visitors to our home in the later years never could find any difference. But later…. It all changed…. by a quirk of fate or what? Anyway, that’s another story altogether.
After mother’s demise, father lived as single in Madurai while I was left with my grandma – I called her appamma – at my father’s native village, Kasiapuram. It was just a few miles away from my mother’s place. I very vaguely remember how I was doted by appamma and two of the 4 sisters of my father. These two aunts were then working as teachers in our own school run by our family. Pattaiya, that is my grandfather, was the one who started that school, the very first in that area. If I remember right, it was St.Joseph’s Elementary School. I remember my aunts taking me by hand to the school everyday since appamma used to be busy doing her daily score at the fields. How vividly I visualize even now the dawn-to-dusk hard manual work the womenfolk at home did. Father used to visit me now and then during his vacations. What stands out during those visits, firstly, as soon as he came home my aunts would lift me in their arms and weep inconsolably. The sight of my father would open the floodgate of their grief on the demise of my mother and my ‘motherless status’. Not knowing the reason for their grief, I would also cry along with them. In those first few minutes, a pall of gloom used to hang over the whole household. Secondly, father used to bring something or other every time he paid those visits. The usual and much-expected thing would be grapes. What we used to get in those days mostly were green, sour grapes. But the grapes father used to bring were black, sweet and juicy and were called Hyderabad-grapes. During one such visit he brought me a tri-cycle. Probably half of the kids of the village should have been around it when the news of its arrival broke out. None would have seen such a cute thing in their lives. I very well recollect that it arrived well packed with flannel tapes. Body painted in bright green, solid wheels in bright red and black rubber handle grips. None in the village – leave alone the children – would have seen such a cute little thing. It was a treat to watch in those days. I was too young to pedal it myself. I would simply sit on my tricycle and there would be severe competition to push me around in our backyard. Duraisamy, a distant cousin of mine was my favored one to push me around. For many years whenever I visited my village I would try to meet him. In the latter years I always found him sitting in a petty shop in an inebriated condition. A five or ten rupee note would in such times make him very happy. One day I got my right toe in the wheel in one such push-me-around sessions. Blood scared everybody and after that accident none came forward to treat me with the ‘royal pushing’. It compelled me to learn to pedal myself. Then I was free to ride around the whole village. Probably in the history of our school, for very many years mine was the only vehicle parked under the trees during the class hours. When I leave in my cycle to our house, there would be scores of people watching a little kid majestically riding his tri-cycle. A real cynosure!
This cycle remained in the family for nearly forty years – that too in full use – as the ‘family tri-cycle’. Only thing, my daughters were denied the chance of enjoying it while other children of my other sisters ‘inherited’ it and rode around. Another novelty of those years in our village home was a mechanical-gramophone – the only of its kind for miles around in that area. My aunts would play the very few records we had only on very special occasions or for visitors coming only for the purpose of seeing and listening to the ‘musical wonder’ of those years. It was a proud possession of the family for a long time since electricity came very very late to our village. Most of my childhood memories belong to those ‘powerless’ days.
So went those days in Kasiapuram. Everybody in the village would be a relative. Every relative petted me. Everybody had a soft corner for me since I was a motherless child. This should have done a lot to my psyche at that age itself. It was one type of recognition I got for many years.
There was a lady-teacher in our school. She was close to my aunts. She was from a nearby village, called Kuruvankottai or something. Everyday she used to come to our home to take her lunch with my aunts. Though her face got completely erased from my mind I still remember her as a very fair, slim and beautiful lady. I don’t remember why and how it happened – probably people were talking about that – I very much wanted that she should become my mother. I don’t know how that proposal got fizzled out. Then comes father’s wedding. I have never found an answer as to why and how I remember many of the things in my life very clearly after that wedding while most of the earlier happenings are all so foggy.
Well, coming back to the day of father’s wedding, inside that village church it was a sort of triangle – my father in front near the altar, I, on the side of church in that big chair and the entrance through which the bride was expected any moment. She then entered. She was in a golden yellow pattu saree, thickly brocaded with golden jaree. Seeing a Christian bride with a veil over her head should have been a novelty for the local people. A group of kids followed the bride marveling her dress. She looked quite pretty but the face had seriousness in it. Probably it was due to the bridal tension. In the latter years also she carried that perpetual seriousness on her face. I always liked her smiling face but never that seriousness-laden face. The wedding was in my mother’s village, since father’s new bride was a close relative of my mother. I was never able to remember any other person, especially the relatives of mother attending the wedding.
It is more like a movie with a lot of cut-shots. Because the next thing that I am able to recollect was the wedding procession through those village streets towards the bride’s house. It was in an open car. I was seated sandwiched between the couple – appears very odd even now to me! Could be compulsion of ….I don’t know what. There were people looking at me during the procession. Those faces showed mixed feelings.
The next cut-shot is father’s village in the late evening of the wedding day. In this scene, the whole village had converged on to my pattaiya’s house as was the custom of those days. There were a few petro-max lamps brightening the celebration. Kids were hovering around those lamps – another novelty for them. The house, to the village standards of those years, was comparatively a large one – one of the few storied houses in the whole village. There were three entrances. I was sitting on the steps on the southern side, a side entrance. I was engrossed looking at the urchins playing around the hissing lamps competing with the buzzing insects. Someone from behind touched my shoulders. I turned and looked up. It was father in pattu dhothi. He sat near me. He asked me who was the bride to me. I said “chithi”. That was what I was told. Father said, “She will be hereafter your amma and you should call her so. Okay? “. I said yes and kept that word always. Not for the namesake. I meant it always. Visitors to our home in the later years never could find any difference. But later…. It all changed…. by a quirk of fate or what? Anyway, that’s another story altogether.
Friday, July 28, 2006
30. MY APPA'S WEDDING THAT I ATTENDED -1
MY APPA'S WEDDING THAT I ATTENDED.
When I look back, the earliest memory of my childhood is my appa’s wedding. Yes, it was the wedding of my father. I vividly remember most of the details. It is like ruffling through an old family photo album. The photos are old, sepia-toned retaining the old-world flavor. The images in the photos when I look at them start moving back and forth in time. It may be like a sequence of still photographs. But when I look at each one of them, I get a short length movie running in my mind. It absorbs me into the picture, which by this time gets animated. I become part of it. Things move around me. I move around things and people in each photograph.
Among such photos the very fist one shows the interior of a village church. My father, the bridegroom, is in a cream colored suit of shining gabardine. He is kneeling at the pew and praying or so it seems. The bride is yet to arrive. I have not seen her yet. I’m inside a big chair specially provided for me, since chairs in those years were rare commodities, that too in village churches. I don’t know how was it for my father, for me the waiting was filled with suspense and a sort of thrill. I’ll describe the wedding later, since I have to provide a few more details to fill the gap.
Though father’s wedding is, as I said, the earliest memory, there were few other things in my memory bank. They, however, are not as clear as the wedding and the subsequent events. They have a veil hung over them. Like moth eaten photographs. They are not clear. Probably that is compensated by the sound track – the oft-repeated narration of elders in the family rambling into my ears during my growing years. What elders said help bring back some foggy memories. Elders used to say a lot about my mother. But unfortunately I don’t remember anything about her. However hard I try I don’t get even a hazy image of her. After my birth, I am told, she became very sick. Got tuberculosis. A dreaded disease in those days. She was given some treatment in Madurai. A few months before her death, for some time she was in Madurai Government Hospital as an inpatient. In my later age, I remember some of my relatives were trying to identify the block and ward in the concrete jungle of that hospital. I wantonly avoided knowing it. I don’t know why I felt that way. When her condition became worse, she wanted to spend her last days in her village house. So she was taken to her birthplace, a village named Kurumbalperi. Both of us were there for a month or two. During these days she tried to keep me away from her fearing I would also catch the disease. From what others recall, I should have been a big nuisance to her. Anyway her painful days were over when I was hardly 2½ years old. It occurred early in the morning around 4.30 a.m.
I had a periyamma – Madurai periyamma – who used to be very fond of me when I was a kid. She was in Madurai and she was pregnant then. On the day of my mother’s death, this periyamma had a dream. In the dream mother in a complete white dress came to her with a piece of sugarcane in her hand. She took a bite of it. Chewed and spat it. Then she said to periyamma “ Akka, I’m going. Look after my son”. And then she drifted off, rather floated off. Within few hours she received the telegram informing the demise of my mother. This had been quite often repeated by my periyamma. I don’t know what to call this. Calling it a trumped up incident looks unethical and ungrateful to the memory of my periyamma. So, though I grew up wondering about the rationality of this, I was never willing to question it. This is one of the two incidents in my life, which has a supernatural touch. About the other one, I will talk later.
After mother’s demise, father lived as single in Madurai while I was left with my grandma – I called her appamma – at my father’s native village, Kasiapuram. It was just a few miles away from my mother’s place. I very vaguely remember how I was doted by appamma and two of the 4 sisters of my father. These two aunts were then working as teachers in our own school run by our family. Pattaiya, that is my grandfather, was the one who started that school, the very first in that area. If I remember right, it was St.Joseph’s Elementary School. I remember my aunts taking me by hand to the school everyday since appamma used to be busy doing her daily score at the fields. How vividly I visualize even now the dawn-to-dusk hard manual work the womenfolk at home did. Father used to visit me now and then during his vacations. What stands out during those visits, firstly, as soon as he came home my aunts would lift me in their arms and weep inconsolably. The sight of my father would open the floodgate of their grief on the demise of my mother and my ‘motherless status’. Not knowing the reason for their grief, I would also cry along with them. In those first few minutes, a pall of gloom used to hang over the whole household. Secondly, father used to bring something or other every time he paid those visits. The usual and much-expected thing would be grapes. What we used to get in those days mostly were green, sour grapes. But the grapes father used to bring were black, sweet and juicy and were called Hyderabad-grapes. During one such visit he brought me a tri-cycle. Probably half of the kids of the village should have been around it when the news of its arrival broke out. None would have seen such a cute thing in their lives. I very well recollect that it arrived well packed with flannel tapes. Body painted in bright green, solid wheels in bright red and black rubber handle grips. None in the village – leave alone the children – would have seen such a cute little thing. It was a treat to watch in those days. I was too young to pedal it myself. I would simply sit on my tricycle and there would be severe competition to push me around in our backyard. Duraisamy, a distant cousin of mine was my favored one to push me around. For many years whenever I visited my village I would try to meet him. In the latter years I always found him sitting in a petty shop in an inebriated condition. A five or ten rupee note would in such times make him very happy. One day I got my right toe in the wheel in one such push-me-around sessions. Blood scared everybody and after that accident none came forward to treat me with the ‘royal pushing’. It compelled me to learn to pedal myself. Then I was free to ride around the whole village. Probably in the history of our school, for very many years mine was the only vehicle parked under the trees during the class hours. When I leave in my cycle to our house, there would be scores of people watching a little kid majestically riding his tri-cycle. A real cynosure!
This cycle remained in the family for nearly forty years – that too in full use – as the ‘family tri-cycle’. Only thing, my daughters were denied the chance of enjoying it while other children of my other sisters ‘inherited’ it and rode around. Another novelty of those years in our village home was a mechanical-gramophone – the only of its kind for miles around in that area. My aunts would play the very few records we had only on very special occasions or for visitors coming only for the purpose of seeing and listening to the ‘musical wonder’ of those years. It was a proud possession of the family for a long time since electricity came very very late to our village. Most of my childhood memories belong to those ‘powerless’ days.
So went those days in Kasiapuram. Everybody in the village would be a relative. Every relative petted me. Everybody had a soft corner for me since I was a motherless child. This should have done a lot to my psyche at that age itself. It was one type of recognition I got for many years.
There was a lady-teacher in our school. She was close to my aunts. She was from a nearby village, called Kuruvankottai or something. Everyday she used to come to our home to take her lunch with my aunts. Though her face got completely erased from my mind I still remember her as a very fair, slim and beautiful lady. I don’t remember why and how it happened – probably people were talking about that – I very much wanted that she should become my mother. I don’t know how that proposal got fizzled out. Then comes father’s wedding. I have never found an answer as to why and how I remember many of the things in my life very clearly after that wedding while most of the earlier happenings are all so foggy.
Well, coming back to the day of father’s wedding, inside that village church it was a sort of triangle – my father in front near the altar, I, on the side of church in that big chair and the entrance through which the bride was expected any moment. She then entered. She was in a golden yellow pattu saree, thickly brocaded with golden jaree. Seeing a Christian bride with a veil over her head should have been a novelty for the local people. A group of kids followed the bride marveling her dress. She looked quite pretty but the face had seriousness in it. Probably it was due to the bridal tension. In the latter years also she carried that perpetual seriousness on her face. I always liked her smiling face but never that seriousness-laden face. The wedding was in my mother’s village, since father’s new bride was a close relative of my mother. I was never able to remember any other person, especially the relatives of mother attending the wedding.
It is more like a movie with a lot of cut-shots. Because the next thing that I am able to recollect was the wedding procession through those village streets towards the bride’s house. It was in an open car. I was seated sandwiched between the couple – appears very odd even now to me! Could be compulsion of ….I don’t know what. There were people looking at me during the procession. Those faces showed mixed feelings.
The next cut-shot is father’s village in the late evening of the wedding day. In this scene, the whole village had converged on to my pattaiya’s house as was the custom of those days. There were a few petro-max lamps brightening the celebration. Kids were hovering around those lamps – another novelty for them. The house, to the village standards of those years, was comparatively a large one – one of the few storied houses in the whole village. There were three entrances. I was sitting on the steps on the southern side, a side entrance. I was engrossed looking at the urchins playing around the hissing lamps competing with the buzzing insects. Someone from behind touched my shoulders. I turned and looked up. It was father in pattu dhothi. He sat near me. He asked me who was the bride to me. I said “chithi”. That was what I was told. Father said, “She will be hereafter your amma and you should call her so. Okay? “. I said yes and kept that word always. Not for the namesake. I meant it always. Visitors to our home in the later years never could find any difference. But later…. It all changed…. by a quirk of fate or what? Anyway, that’s another story altogether.
When I look back, the earliest memory of my childhood is my appa’s wedding. Yes, it was the wedding of my father. I vividly remember most of the details. It is like ruffling through an old family photo album. The photos are old, sepia-toned retaining the old-world flavor. The images in the photos when I look at them start moving back and forth in time. It may be like a sequence of still photographs. But when I look at each one of them, I get a short length movie running in my mind. It absorbs me into the picture, which by this time gets animated. I become part of it. Things move around me. I move around things and people in each photograph.
Among such photos the very fist one shows the interior of a village church. My father, the bridegroom, is in a cream colored suit of shining gabardine. He is kneeling at the pew and praying or so it seems. The bride is yet to arrive. I have not seen her yet. I’m inside a big chair specially provided for me, since chairs in those years were rare commodities, that too in village churches. I don’t know how was it for my father, for me the waiting was filled with suspense and a sort of thrill. I’ll describe the wedding later, since I have to provide a few more details to fill the gap.
Though father’s wedding is, as I said, the earliest memory, there were few other things in my memory bank. They, however, are not as clear as the wedding and the subsequent events. They have a veil hung over them. Like moth eaten photographs. They are not clear. Probably that is compensated by the sound track – the oft-repeated narration of elders in the family rambling into my ears during my growing years. What elders said help bring back some foggy memories. Elders used to say a lot about my mother. But unfortunately I don’t remember anything about her. However hard I try I don’t get even a hazy image of her. After my birth, I am told, she became very sick. Got tuberculosis. A dreaded disease in those days. She was given some treatment in Madurai. A few months before her death, for some time she was in Madurai Government Hospital as an inpatient. In my later age, I remember some of my relatives were trying to identify the block and ward in the concrete jungle of that hospital. I wantonly avoided knowing it. I don’t know why I felt that way. When her condition became worse, she wanted to spend her last days in her village house. So she was taken to her birthplace, a village named Kurumbalperi. Both of us were there for a month or two. During these days she tried to keep me away from her fearing I would also catch the disease. From what others recall, I should have been a big nuisance to her. Anyway her painful days were over when I was hardly 2½ years old. It occurred early in the morning around 4.30 a.m.
I had a periyamma – Madurai periyamma – who used to be very fond of me when I was a kid. She was in Madurai and she was pregnant then. On the day of my mother’s death, this periyamma had a dream. In the dream mother in a complete white dress came to her with a piece of sugarcane in her hand. She took a bite of it. Chewed and spat it. Then she said to periyamma “ Akka, I’m going. Look after my son”. And then she drifted off, rather floated off. Within few hours she received the telegram informing the demise of my mother. This had been quite often repeated by my periyamma. I don’t know what to call this. Calling it a trumped up incident looks unethical and ungrateful to the memory of my periyamma. So, though I grew up wondering about the rationality of this, I was never willing to question it. This is one of the two incidents in my life, which has a supernatural touch. About the other one, I will talk later.
After mother’s demise, father lived as single in Madurai while I was left with my grandma – I called her appamma – at my father’s native village, Kasiapuram. It was just a few miles away from my mother’s place. I very vaguely remember how I was doted by appamma and two of the 4 sisters of my father. These two aunts were then working as teachers in our own school run by our family. Pattaiya, that is my grandfather, was the one who started that school, the very first in that area. If I remember right, it was St.Joseph’s Elementary School. I remember my aunts taking me by hand to the school everyday since appamma used to be busy doing her daily score at the fields. How vividly I visualize even now the dawn-to-dusk hard manual work the womenfolk at home did. Father used to visit me now and then during his vacations. What stands out during those visits, firstly, as soon as he came home my aunts would lift me in their arms and weep inconsolably. The sight of my father would open the floodgate of their grief on the demise of my mother and my ‘motherless status’. Not knowing the reason for their grief, I would also cry along with them. In those first few minutes, a pall of gloom used to hang over the whole household. Secondly, father used to bring something or other every time he paid those visits. The usual and much-expected thing would be grapes. What we used to get in those days mostly were green, sour grapes. But the grapes father used to bring were black, sweet and juicy and were called Hyderabad-grapes. During one such visit he brought me a tri-cycle. Probably half of the kids of the village should have been around it when the news of its arrival broke out. None would have seen such a cute thing in their lives. I very well recollect that it arrived well packed with flannel tapes. Body painted in bright green, solid wheels in bright red and black rubber handle grips. None in the village – leave alone the children – would have seen such a cute little thing. It was a treat to watch in those days. I was too young to pedal it myself. I would simply sit on my tricycle and there would be severe competition to push me around in our backyard. Duraisamy, a distant cousin of mine was my favored one to push me around. For many years whenever I visited my village I would try to meet him. In the latter years I always found him sitting in a petty shop in an inebriated condition. A five or ten rupee note would in such times make him very happy. One day I got my right toe in the wheel in one such push-me-around sessions. Blood scared everybody and after that accident none came forward to treat me with the ‘royal pushing’. It compelled me to learn to pedal myself. Then I was free to ride around the whole village. Probably in the history of our school, for very many years mine was the only vehicle parked under the trees during the class hours. When I leave in my cycle to our house, there would be scores of people watching a little kid majestically riding his tri-cycle. A real cynosure!
This cycle remained in the family for nearly forty years – that too in full use – as the ‘family tri-cycle’. Only thing, my daughters were denied the chance of enjoying it while other children of my other sisters ‘inherited’ it and rode around. Another novelty of those years in our village home was a mechanical-gramophone – the only of its kind for miles around in that area. My aunts would play the very few records we had only on very special occasions or for visitors coming only for the purpose of seeing and listening to the ‘musical wonder’ of those years. It was a proud possession of the family for a long time since electricity came very very late to our village. Most of my childhood memories belong to those ‘powerless’ days.
So went those days in Kasiapuram. Everybody in the village would be a relative. Every relative petted me. Everybody had a soft corner for me since I was a motherless child. This should have done a lot to my psyche at that age itself. It was one type of recognition I got for many years.
There was a lady-teacher in our school. She was close to my aunts. She was from a nearby village, called Kuruvankottai or something. Everyday she used to come to our home to take her lunch with my aunts. Though her face got completely erased from my mind I still remember her as a very fair, slim and beautiful lady. I don’t remember why and how it happened – probably people were talking about that – I very much wanted that she should become my mother. I don’t know how that proposal got fizzled out. Then comes father’s wedding. I have never found an answer as to why and how I remember many of the things in my life very clearly after that wedding while most of the earlier happenings are all so foggy.
Well, coming back to the day of father’s wedding, inside that village church it was a sort of triangle – my father in front near the altar, I, on the side of church in that big chair and the entrance through which the bride was expected any moment. She then entered. She was in a golden yellow pattu saree, thickly brocaded with golden jaree. Seeing a Christian bride with a veil over her head should have been a novelty for the local people. A group of kids followed the bride marveling her dress. She looked quite pretty but the face had seriousness in it. Probably it was due to the bridal tension. In the latter years also she carried that perpetual seriousness on her face. I always liked her smiling face but never that seriousness-laden face. The wedding was in my mother’s village, since father’s new bride was a close relative of my mother. I was never able to remember any other person, especially the relatives of mother attending the wedding.
It is more like a movie with a lot of cut-shots. Because the next thing that I am able to recollect was the wedding procession through those village streets towards the bride’s house. It was in an open car. I was seated sandwiched between the couple – appears very odd even now to me! Could be compulsion of ….I don’t know what. There were people looking at me during the procession. Those faces showed mixed feelings.
The next cut-shot is father’s village in the late evening of the wedding day. In this scene, the whole village had converged on to my pattaiya’s house as was the custom of those days. There were a few petro-max lamps brightening the celebration. Kids were hovering around those lamps – another novelty for them. The house, to the village standards of those years, was comparatively a large one – one of the few storied houses in the whole village. There were three entrances. I was sitting on the steps on the southern side, a side entrance. I was engrossed looking at the urchins playing around the hissing lamps competing with the buzzing insects. Someone from behind touched my shoulders. I turned and looked up. It was father in pattu dhothi. He sat near me. He asked me who was the bride to me. I said “chithi”. That was what I was told. Father said, “She will be hereafter your amma and you should call her so. Okay? “. I said yes and kept that word always. Not for the namesake. I meant it always. Visitors to our home in the later years never could find any difference. But later…. It all changed…. by a quirk of fate or what? Anyway, that’s another story altogether.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
29. WORLD CUP - MY DIARY- TRIVIA
TRIVIA:
**********During the matches there was a row of persons wearing bright orange colored vests. These people would be standing around the stadium facing the audience,while the fierce battle for supremacy would be going on at their backs. Any lively action at the ground would be reflected by the vociferous audiences. But these persons would stoically stand guard, never getting tempted to turn to see what was happening at their backs. When the whole world was watching the match they would be turning their backs to the play. So near they were, yet so far they were from the matches! How would they have selected people for this unenviable job? Did they pick up avid cricket fans from India?
Even for any one dayer one could find a big crowd on the roadside teashops and shop windows to witness the telecast of these matches. So is our interest in Cricket. But no such thing was sighted in all these days of world over football fever. Our Indians stoically kept away from such ‘trivial sports’!
=============================== = =======================
*********People say that God is Omniscient and all that. It seems It knows past, present and future.
During the football match days I used to wonder sitting before a TV at every match. The questions in my mind would be always who would win the match and whom did I want to win and all that suspense. This feeling heightened as the championship proceeded. There would be a lot of suspense and at the end of the every match according to my expectations and wishes I would be either feeling happy or sad. Anyway that sort of gripping suspense till the last minute keeps the interest in the whole championship and in every game.
But I used to wonder – If there is a God, naturally It would know the results for every match even before the match starts! And also the final winner of the championship even before the football fever starts for the whole world. So no suspense to the Almighty! Right?
What a boring ‘life’ it would be for the Almighty – a life devoid of any suspense, a long and boring one ! POOR GOD!!
**********During the matches there was a row of persons wearing bright orange colored vests. These people would be standing around the stadium facing the audience,while the fierce battle for supremacy would be going on at their backs. Any lively action at the ground would be reflected by the vociferous audiences. But these persons would stoically stand guard, never getting tempted to turn to see what was happening at their backs. When the whole world was watching the match they would be turning their backs to the play. So near they were, yet so far they were from the matches! How would they have selected people for this unenviable job? Did they pick up avid cricket fans from India?
Even for any one dayer one could find a big crowd on the roadside teashops and shop windows to witness the telecast of these matches. So is our interest in Cricket. But no such thing was sighted in all these days of world over football fever. Our Indians stoically kept away from such ‘trivial sports’!
=============================== = =======================
*********People say that God is Omniscient and all that. It seems It knows past, present and future.
During the football match days I used to wonder sitting before a TV at every match. The questions in my mind would be always who would win the match and whom did I want to win and all that suspense. This feeling heightened as the championship proceeded. There would be a lot of suspense and at the end of the every match according to my expectations and wishes I would be either feeling happy or sad. Anyway that sort of gripping suspense till the last minute keeps the interest in the whole championship and in every game.
But I used to wonder – If there is a God, naturally It would know the results for every match even before the match starts! And also the final winner of the championship even before the football fever starts for the whole world. So no suspense to the Almighty! Right?
What a boring ‘life’ it would be for the Almighty – a life devoid of any suspense, a long and boring one ! POOR GOD!!
Sunday, July 16, 2006
28. WORLD CUP - MY DIARY-page 12
ITLAY vs. FRANCE
RESULT: 5 : 3 (PSO)
Much water has flown under the bridge. Once the final was over the mood to complete this diary also waned. Both the teams went in full steam from the first whistle and an early goal by France thru a penalty made it all the more fierce. Then came the equalizer within the regular time. So it was 1 : 1 and the game went into extra time. There were two fierce head-butts from Zidane, the French captain. One during the second half and it hit the horizontal bar and the Italian goal survived. But in the second butt the victim did fall flat. That was a brutal head-butt by Zidane onto the chest of Matterizi, the Italian player. Zidane was duly shown the red card and was sent just a few minutes before the match came to an end after the extra time. Then in the penalties the first shots by each team was scored but the second and third shots were missed by the French while it was all so easy for the Italians. And victory was theirs.
The Zidane affair is being discussed for long now and since Matterizi has made some foul and personal remarks, the world has gone with Zidane and felt sad for the way he left the ground since it is the last in the long and glorious march of the French in the last three championships.
RESULT: 5 : 3 (PSO)
Much water has flown under the bridge. Once the final was over the mood to complete this diary also waned. Both the teams went in full steam from the first whistle and an early goal by France thru a penalty made it all the more fierce. Then came the equalizer within the regular time. So it was 1 : 1 and the game went into extra time. There were two fierce head-butts from Zidane, the French captain. One during the second half and it hit the horizontal bar and the Italian goal survived. But in the second butt the victim did fall flat. That was a brutal head-butt by Zidane onto the chest of Matterizi, the Italian player. Zidane was duly shown the red card and was sent just a few minutes before the match came to an end after the extra time. Then in the penalties the first shots by each team was scored but the second and third shots were missed by the French while it was all so easy for the Italians. And victory was theirs.
The Zidane affair is being discussed for long now and since Matterizi has made some foul and personal remarks, the world has gone with Zidane and felt sad for the way he left the ground since it is the last in the long and glorious march of the French in the last three championships.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
27. WORLD CUP - MY DIARY-page 11
SECOND SEMIFINAL
FRANCE vs. PORTUGAL
RESULT: 1 : 0 (P)ZIDANE
More than the players of Portugal, Scolari the name of the team’s coach was more in the media. He is considered to be the top person as a terrific coach and his teams were always on the winning streak…etc…etc… but that place of pride was snatched this time. Portugal lost to France thru a penalty goal awarded for a foul in the Portugal’s goal mouth on Henry. The penalty awarded was taken by the Zidane. No nerves. No external show of feelings. Just a plain kick. Ball safely traveled to the left corner of the net, escaping the outstretched hands of the Portugal goal keeper.
As any match where the fate is decided by penaltyFIFA 2006 or shoot outs, this game also was a disappointing one for me. There were at least one more incident at the French goal mouth which raised a question: why not a penalty now to Portugal. Anyway the match was over and French team sails into the finals. Portugal’s C. Ronaldo showed his mettle. I liked what I saw in him.
FRANCE vs. PORTUGAL
RESULT: 1 : 0 (P)ZIDANE
More than the players of Portugal, Scolari the name of the team’s coach was more in the media. He is considered to be the top person as a terrific coach and his teams were always on the winning streak…etc…etc… but that place of pride was snatched this time. Portugal lost to France thru a penalty goal awarded for a foul in the Portugal’s goal mouth on Henry. The penalty awarded was taken by the Zidane. No nerves. No external show of feelings. Just a plain kick. Ball safely traveled to the left corner of the net, escaping the outstretched hands of the Portugal goal keeper.
As any match where the fate is decided by penaltyFIFA 2006 or shoot outs, this game also was a disappointing one for me. There were at least one more incident at the French goal mouth which raised a question: why not a penalty now to Portugal. Anyway the match was over and French team sails into the finals. Portugal’s C. Ronaldo showed his mettle. I liked what I saw in him.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
26. WORLD CUP - MY DIARY-page 10
FIRST SEMI-FINAL
GERMANY vs. ITALY
RESULT: 0 : 0; ET - 0 : 2
From the very first whistle the match went into top gear. The ball was consistently visiting both the ends. The custodians proved their mettle time and again, especially the German, Oliver. For both the teams there were many a thrilling escapes. Especially for the Italians it would have been a great heartburn when for two successive shots just at the first few minutes of extra time the posts came to their rescue. The players also showed their skills so well that rough and unnecessary fouls were much less. The Italians had a higher percentage of ball possession but the opportunities created by both the teams were almost even and so the whole match was a nail biting experience.
The full time play did not bring out any results and the game went into extra time. The first 15 minutes were over again without any result. Then in the second half of the extra time also minutes passed without any result. But in the real 'dying' moments the German goal fell by a concerted effort of Italian forwards. The Germans immediately surged towards their opponents' goal mouth but it was only a vain attempt. But within the next few seconds – in the real last seconds of the game -another goal for Italians. German's fate was sealed.
GERMANY vs. ITALY
RESULT: 0 : 0; ET - 0 : 2
From the very first whistle the match went into top gear. The ball was consistently visiting both the ends. The custodians proved their mettle time and again, especially the German, Oliver. For both the teams there were many a thrilling escapes. Especially for the Italians it would have been a great heartburn when for two successive shots just at the first few minutes of extra time the posts came to their rescue. The players also showed their skills so well that rough and unnecessary fouls were much less. The Italians had a higher percentage of ball possession but the opportunities created by both the teams were almost even and so the whole match was a nail biting experience.
The full time play did not bring out any results and the game went into extra time. The first 15 minutes were over again without any result. Then in the second half of the extra time also minutes passed without any result. But in the real 'dying' moments the German goal fell by a concerted effort of Italian forwards. The Germans immediately surged towards their opponents' goal mouth but it was only a vain attempt. But within the next few seconds – in the real last seconds of the game -another goal for Italians. German's fate was sealed.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
25. WORLD CUP - MY DIARY-page 9
QUARTER FINALS:
30th June 2006
GERMANY vs ARGENTINA
RESULT: 1 : 1; 4 : 2 (PSO)
Two disappointments in this match. One, Messi did not play in this game, I don’t know why. I have not seen him playing so far and everyone is talking about him. I missed him. Second, Argentinean game was just at par with the Germans, not any notch above them. Two equal sides fought for supremacy and of course that was quite absorbing. Both the goals scored came in the second half and after that the extra time did not bring in any definite result. So the game went for penalty shoot out and Germans won.
ITALY vs UKRAINE
RESULT: 3 : 0
Every one knows what is sleep-walking. But I don’t know whether people know what is ‘sleep-watching’ I did that on that day. The match started by 00.30 a.m. and even then I was half asleep. I remember the game starting with referee’s whistle. After that everything was quite cloudy since I was lying in front of the TV. I used to wake up now and then and see the score. When I first saw it was 2:0 and when I woke up next 3:0; and at the next time three people were sitting and talking about something that was happening in Germany…they called it World Cup Football Championship or something. Who cared? I went to sleep again with one difference – to wake up this time only late in the morning, that too, to shift myself to the coziness of my bed!
2nd July, 2006
PORTUGAL vs ENGLAND
RESULT: 3 : 1
At the start I wanted Portugal to win the match. But as the match was approaching the end after the extra time, I wanted England to win. I thought, well, if a full team of players cannot win an oppent with just 10 members playing, that too without their star players Beckhamm and Roony, they don’t deserve to be the winners. But the commentator was making a commentary that Englnad has never won by penalties. This time also the same blind lady of fortune turned her back to England.
In their earlier match against Trinidad & Tobago, England forwards Lampard and Crouch were quite an eyesore for me. It appeared to me that with these two in the forward line, T & T need not worry at all, so was their abilities as scorers. Lampard took many a ashot at goal, but almost all of them were way away from the target. If forwards take shots like that, why the opponents need to worry. Crouch, the other forward looks to me more a caricature of a football player. His game just matched his looks. He was lucky since finally it is his heading that resulted in the only goal scored against T & T. After Rooney left the scene because of his huff Crouch took his mantle. He and Lampard played their 'original' game and spoiled or wasted many chances of their team. It all finally led to the penalty shoot out and England as is their routine lost it.
BRAZIL vs. FRANCE
My favourite is, for like most around the world, Brazil. Wanted Ronaldo and Ronaldinho to come at the peak of their form at the right moment. But that never happened.
There were many moments when Brazilian goal was at danger. Somehow they came off from them . But both Cafu and Ronaldo got booked with yellow card. Juans’s crucial tackle earned him a yellow card but almost saved a sure goal. Credit for the fist half should be given to Zidane. His play making moves and the ball distribution were fantastic. He is the only star twinkling bright. Like Beckham, his free kicks landed right on the desired spot. In one such shot the ball was just tapped by Henry resulting the French one goal up. I thought this would spur Brazilians a little more and one could witness some sparks. But all these expectations were turned to naught and the French team kept up this slender margin and entered into the semifinals, leaving the Brazilian fans in tears.
30th June 2006
GERMANY vs ARGENTINA
RESULT: 1 : 1; 4 : 2 (PSO)
Two disappointments in this match. One, Messi did not play in this game, I don’t know why. I have not seen him playing so far and everyone is talking about him. I missed him. Second, Argentinean game was just at par with the Germans, not any notch above them. Two equal sides fought for supremacy and of course that was quite absorbing. Both the goals scored came in the second half and after that the extra time did not bring in any definite result. So the game went for penalty shoot out and Germans won.
ITALY vs UKRAINE
RESULT: 3 : 0
Every one knows what is sleep-walking. But I don’t know whether people know what is ‘sleep-watching’ I did that on that day. The match started by 00.30 a.m. and even then I was half asleep. I remember the game starting with referee’s whistle. After that everything was quite cloudy since I was lying in front of the TV. I used to wake up now and then and see the score. When I first saw it was 2:0 and when I woke up next 3:0; and at the next time three people were sitting and talking about something that was happening in Germany…they called it World Cup Football Championship or something. Who cared? I went to sleep again with one difference – to wake up this time only late in the morning, that too, to shift myself to the coziness of my bed!
2nd July, 2006
PORTUGAL vs ENGLAND
RESULT: 3 : 1
At the start I wanted Portugal to win the match. But as the match was approaching the end after the extra time, I wanted England to win. I thought, well, if a full team of players cannot win an oppent with just 10 members playing, that too without their star players Beckhamm and Roony, they don’t deserve to be the winners. But the commentator was making a commentary that Englnad has never won by penalties. This time also the same blind lady of fortune turned her back to England.
In their earlier match against Trinidad & Tobago, England forwards Lampard and Crouch were quite an eyesore for me. It appeared to me that with these two in the forward line, T & T need not worry at all, so was their abilities as scorers. Lampard took many a ashot at goal, but almost all of them were way away from the target. If forwards take shots like that, why the opponents need to worry. Crouch, the other forward looks to me more a caricature of a football player. His game just matched his looks. He was lucky since finally it is his heading that resulted in the only goal scored against T & T. After Rooney left the scene because of his huff Crouch took his mantle. He and Lampard played their 'original' game and spoiled or wasted many chances of their team. It all finally led to the penalty shoot out and England as is their routine lost it.
BRAZIL vs. FRANCE
My favourite is, for like most around the world, Brazil. Wanted Ronaldo and Ronaldinho to come at the peak of their form at the right moment. But that never happened.
There were many moments when Brazilian goal was at danger. Somehow they came off from them . But both Cafu and Ronaldo got booked with yellow card. Juans’s crucial tackle earned him a yellow card but almost saved a sure goal. Credit for the fist half should be given to Zidane. His play making moves and the ball distribution were fantastic. He is the only star twinkling bright. Like Beckham, his free kicks landed right on the desired spot. In one such shot the ball was just tapped by Henry resulting the French one goal up. I thought this would spur Brazilians a little more and one could witness some sparks. But all these expectations were turned to naught and the French team kept up this slender margin and entered into the semifinals, leaving the Brazilian fans in tears.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
24. WORLD CUP - MY DIARY-page 8
BRAZIL vs. GHANA
RESULT: 3 : 0
At last Ronaldo might have got his magical touch back. The first goal in the fifth minute of the match was a brilliant one. He could shirk away the off-side trick of the Ghanaians and then had a solo run only the custodian to beat. The last minute swerve he took to avoid the on rushing custodian was a beauty. It was all there for a fraction of a second, or even lesser than that. But it has the signature of Ronaldo of yester years.
Is it a good sign that he is coming back actually into the championship. If he continues to enthrall everyone with such tactical run and moves it would be great watching the samba team. Ronaldinho is still disappointing. He is yet to get his touch. Will he along with Ronaldo reach the right peak of their games at the crucial matches that are awaiting them? One has to hope so.
Of course Ghanaians had a spirited game and the African-Brazilians had to bow down before the original Brazilians !
RESULT: 3 : 0
At last Ronaldo might have got his magical touch back. The first goal in the fifth minute of the match was a brilliant one. He could shirk away the off-side trick of the Ghanaians and then had a solo run only the custodian to beat. The last minute swerve he took to avoid the on rushing custodian was a beauty. It was all there for a fraction of a second, or even lesser than that. But it has the signature of Ronaldo of yester years.
Is it a good sign that he is coming back actually into the championship. If he continues to enthrall everyone with such tactical run and moves it would be great watching the samba team. Ronaldinho is still disappointing. He is yet to get his touch. Will he along with Ronaldo reach the right peak of their games at the crucial matches that are awaiting them? One has to hope so.
Of course Ghanaians had a spirited game and the African-Brazilians had to bow down before the original Brazilians !
23. WORLD CUP - MY DIARY-page 7
ITALY vs AUSTRALIA Result: 1 : 0
Quirk of fate? That is what one has to say of this match. By the half time itself Italy got one of their men sent out with a red card. Second half was 10 vs. 11. Ball mostly was in the possession of the Aussies – the game was centered around Italy’s goal mouth. There were many scoring chances. Either Aussies missed or messed them up. Foray into Aussies goal was just sporadic. Minutes were ticking off. Time was over. The whole of 90 minutes. Games extends for 3 more minutes for the lost time. Now the seconds were ticking off. When there was hardly a minute Italy’s Lucas Neill had a solo run and was at a striking distance when he was fouled by Fabio Grosso. Penalty was awarded and Totti did not have any trouble putting the ball into the right corner of the goal.
This time I expected Italy to win and also wanted Italy to win. It won. But always my heart goes in sympathy for any team that is defeated with a penalty stroke. This time my sympathies lie with Aussies.
Quirk of fate? That is what one has to say of this match. By the half time itself Italy got one of their men sent out with a red card. Second half was 10 vs. 11. Ball mostly was in the possession of the Aussies – the game was centered around Italy’s goal mouth. There were many scoring chances. Either Aussies missed or messed them up. Foray into Aussies goal was just sporadic. Minutes were ticking off. Time was over. The whole of 90 minutes. Games extends for 3 more minutes for the lost time. Now the seconds were ticking off. When there was hardly a minute Italy’s Lucas Neill had a solo run and was at a striking distance when he was fouled by Fabio Grosso. Penalty was awarded and Totti did not have any trouble putting the ball into the right corner of the goal.
This time I expected Italy to win and also wanted Italy to win. It won. But always my heart goes in sympathy for any team that is defeated with a penalty stroke. This time my sympathies lie with Aussies.
Friday, June 23, 2006
22. WORLD CUP - MY DIARY-page 6
BRAZIL vs JAPAN result: 4 : 1
At last Ronaldo has broken his voodoo and has come out of the spell with two goals in this game. But Brazil, probably, needed a knee jerker. Though the ball possession statistics was favourable with Brazil, it was the Japanese who scored the first goal. It appeared that this opened the flood gates since there was more vigour in the game now and within a very few minutes Ronaldo headed a ball into the goal. Ronaldo made us think that scoring a goal was after all so easy. All these happened in the first half. In this half, it looked that Brazil wanted to specialise in minus passes and the game was very much restricted to their half. Only very sporadically Brazilians forayed into their opponent's half.
The game after the moiety took a different turn as the ball moved from one end to the other often. Though the Japanese tried very much only their citadel fell three times. The fourth goal was by Ronaldo again and some shadow of his artistic talents was to be seen in this goal. However, throughout Ronaldo was there in the field like a queen bee in its hive waiting for its slaves to bring whatever the queen bee wanted. His active movements were sparse. But all said and done, he has come back and proved his presence with those two goals entering into the record books. Let him strike back to his form and let more football flow from him.
At last Ronaldo has broken his voodoo and has come out of the spell with two goals in this game. But Brazil, probably, needed a knee jerker. Though the ball possession statistics was favourable with Brazil, it was the Japanese who scored the first goal. It appeared that this opened the flood gates since there was more vigour in the game now and within a very few minutes Ronaldo headed a ball into the goal. Ronaldo made us think that scoring a goal was after all so easy. All these happened in the first half. In this half, it looked that Brazil wanted to specialise in minus passes and the game was very much restricted to their half. Only very sporadically Brazilians forayed into their opponent's half.
The game after the moiety took a different turn as the ball moved from one end to the other often. Though the Japanese tried very much only their citadel fell three times. The fourth goal was by Ronaldo again and some shadow of his artistic talents was to be seen in this goal. However, throughout Ronaldo was there in the field like a queen bee in its hive waiting for its slaves to bring whatever the queen bee wanted. His active movements were sparse. But all said and done, he has come back and proved his presence with those two goals entering into the record books. Let him strike back to his form and let more football flow from him.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
21. WORLD CUP - MY DIARY-page 5
SECOND OUTING OF BRAZIL
BRAZIL Vs AUSTRALIA -- RESULT: 2 : 0
Brazil, as expected won the game but not in theie inimitable style. Still they have to fall into the groove. Their style - the total foot ball - is missing. Better they shake away their rustiness and shine better in furhter rounds if they are serious about their ambition of retaining the cup for the record sixth time. But it is not going to be tht easy, since very serious contenders are emerging even in this pool stage. I missed the first game of Argentina. Reports of their fine form have raised their rating. Germans with their cohesivieness and with the advantage of playing on their own 'father land' are also coming under the hopefuls.
Still Ronaldo's form has not become anything better than what was sadly witnessed in the first game. Of course, he was the one to supply a pass to Adriano in their first goal. Still he is yet to shed his lethargy and get into form. When he was substituted by Robinho a very clear difference was able to be seen. Robinho became the live-wire and his brisk running and good play opened up many chances. Actually the second goal by another substitute, Fred was a rebound ball by Robinho. From right corner of the box he hit a sharp stinging shot and the ball hit the base of right vertical and the rebound was tapped by Fred. Probably age makes all the difference. And also the burden and eagerness to prove oneself is naturally more with Robinho.
GERMANY Vs ECUADOR -- RESULT: 3 : 0
This match should have given a big boost to the Germans, since the game 'clicked' well for them while Ecuador were much wanting. Not a single pass was accurate and they were always found nervous.
BRAZIL Vs AUSTRALIA -- RESULT: 2 : 0
Brazil, as expected won the game but not in theie inimitable style. Still they have to fall into the groove. Their style - the total foot ball - is missing. Better they shake away their rustiness and shine better in furhter rounds if they are serious about their ambition of retaining the cup for the record sixth time. But it is not going to be tht easy, since very serious contenders are emerging even in this pool stage. I missed the first game of Argentina. Reports of their fine form have raised their rating. Germans with their cohesivieness and with the advantage of playing on their own 'father land' are also coming under the hopefuls.
Still Ronaldo's form has not become anything better than what was sadly witnessed in the first game. Of course, he was the one to supply a pass to Adriano in their first goal. Still he is yet to shed his lethargy and get into form. When he was substituted by Robinho a very clear difference was able to be seen. Robinho became the live-wire and his brisk running and good play opened up many chances. Actually the second goal by another substitute, Fred was a rebound ball by Robinho. From right corner of the box he hit a sharp stinging shot and the ball hit the base of right vertical and the rebound was tapped by Fred. Probably age makes all the difference. And also the burden and eagerness to prove oneself is naturally more with Robinho.
GERMANY Vs ECUADOR -- RESULT: 3 : 0
This match should have given a big boost to the Germans, since the game 'clicked' well for them while Ecuador were much wanting. Not a single pass was accurate and they were always found nervous.
Friday, June 16, 2006
20. WORLD CUP - MY DIARY-page 4
ENGLAND vs TRINIDAD & TOBAGO
My real feelings about the British come out to the open many a time; for instance when I see some movies like “Earth’ I always spill the beans unashamedly, though I know that I am wrong on many points. (If you have patience, you can view my view of British here and the reasons for that.) When I see this match between England and Trinidad, because of the heroic saves of Hislop, the custodian for Trinidad in their previous match against Sweden I had a soft corner for that little nation and its heroes. When the forwards of England team, Crouch and Lampard missed great opportunities time and again my heart went for Trinidad out and out. The game also proceeded goalless for long till at last at 84th minute Crouch headed the ball into the goal of Trinidad and soon Gerard followed at 90th minute with one another goal.
The irritation over the failure of the England’s forwards was heightened by the excellence of Beckham’s brilliance. He was so efficient that all his long passes dipped right in front of the goal mouth, for the forwards just to finish it off with ease. But the forwards, Crouch and Lampard played very badly and missed many a chance. Beckham’s balls were like darts hitting the bull’s eye landed squarely before the forwards time and again all in vain.
On the other hand I could not understand why T & T played such a defensive game. My pick of the player of this match was Glen of Trinidad. He came in the second half as a substitute. He had the great knack of dodging many defenders of England and was able to create many chances at England’s goal mouth for his team. But the pathetic thing was that the Trinidadians were mostly on their half and he did not get any support from his team mates. Had there been a little cooperation from them, he could have changed the fate of the game in favor of his team. Such was his game. He could make solo runs with the ball and that is the end of things. Without proper support he could not end such forays into goals.
Anyway the better team won the match.
My real feelings about the British come out to the open many a time; for instance when I see some movies like “Earth’ I always spill the beans unashamedly, though I know that I am wrong on many points. (If you have patience, you can view my view of British here and the reasons for that.) When I see this match between England and Trinidad, because of the heroic saves of Hislop, the custodian for Trinidad in their previous match against Sweden I had a soft corner for that little nation and its heroes. When the forwards of England team, Crouch and Lampard missed great opportunities time and again my heart went for Trinidad out and out. The game also proceeded goalless for long till at last at 84th minute Crouch headed the ball into the goal of Trinidad and soon Gerard followed at 90th minute with one another goal.
The irritation over the failure of the England’s forwards was heightened by the excellence of Beckham’s brilliance. He was so efficient that all his long passes dipped right in front of the goal mouth, for the forwards just to finish it off with ease. But the forwards, Crouch and Lampard played very badly and missed many a chance. Beckham’s balls were like darts hitting the bull’s eye landed squarely before the forwards time and again all in vain.
On the other hand I could not understand why T & T played such a defensive game. My pick of the player of this match was Glen of Trinidad. He came in the second half as a substitute. He had the great knack of dodging many defenders of England and was able to create many chances at England’s goal mouth for his team. But the pathetic thing was that the Trinidadians were mostly on their half and he did not get any support from his team mates. Had there been a little cooperation from them, he could have changed the fate of the game in favor of his team. Such was his game. He could make solo runs with the ball and that is the end of things. Without proper support he could not end such forays into goals.
Anyway the better team won the match.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
19. WORLD CUP - MY DIARY-PAGE 3
Match timings are quite conducive this time in a way – much better than the earlier world cups. The first match is at 6.30 – somehow I return home only around 7 pm.; so invariably the first half hour of this match is always lost; and then after 7 pm one has to fight with the women folk for that great serial ‘Anandam’ which is also from 7pm to 7.30 pm! So goes the first match.
The second match is a peaceful time and one is permitted fully to view this match with a go-to-hell-principle by everybody at home! But the third match from 00.30 onwards is too late for an old man like you, comes the advice from all corners followed by variety of threats. In spite of this I made a point that I will sit tight for the first match of Brazil in this championship which was played in that third slot.
On retrospective I wonder whether the pain that I took was worth all the efforts. The game against Crotia was very sedate never reaching any great heights. The utter disappointment was with Ronaldo. His game on that day just reminded me of the final Brazil played against France in 1998 World Cup Final. In both these games Ronaldo was to be seen as physically quite inadequate. The times his foot touched the ball were very few; even when he had the chance to get the ball, he never ‘played’ them with his usual artistry. He looked very ordinary. Even when he was caught offside, even after the free kick is taken for it, he was found in the offside without even hurrying back. So much was his lethargy. On the other hand, Ronaldinho was always well covered by at least two Croatian players not permitting him to have enough space to play his game. His toothy smiles looked more out of place and rather inappropriate. Carlos, the old war horse was showing his old self. In the end, there was a taste of dissatisfaction and disappointment. All said and done the goal by Kaka has saved them. Hopefully they come back with new vigor and better planning and above all, if Ronaldo comes back to the scene as the hero of last world cup, what a treat it would be.
If the above match was a sedate show of talents, another match between Sweden and Trindad & Tobago (by the by, where is this country? I keep thinking to explore it in the world atlas!) was a thriller. The underdogs T & T became TNT! What an explosion of spirit and their never-say-die-efforts. Kudos to these minnows. The irony of the match was many folded: the ball possession between the highly ranked Sweden and T &T were 60 : 40; the latter played with just 10 members for the whole of second half; the ball was always, especially in the second half, deep in the Trinidad’s half. In spite of all these things, Swedes could not break their opponents’ defense and score a goal. And the whole credit should go to Hislop, the custodian for T & T. He was the hero of the day. How many saves he made on that day! It was a gripping match, the Trinidadians robbing the hearts of all, of course except the die hard fans of Sweden and the Swedish themselves.
If the above match was like sitting on a TNT keg all through the match, one another match was like a pathetic drama ending with a great sentimental and anticlimactic turn of events. Yes, it was the match between the Japs and the Australians. The former had a surprising early goal, in the 24th minute itself. And there was almost a goal for parity from Australians but luck was then on the side of Japanese. So went the game for the full length – well, almost to the full length. Because in the last minute, to be precise from the 84th minute within a span of 8 – 10m minutes three goals against Japanese turned the tide completely against them. It was so unbelievable on such an event of three quick goals and the whole thing changed.
The second match is a peaceful time and one is permitted fully to view this match with a go-to-hell-principle by everybody at home! But the third match from 00.30 onwards is too late for an old man like you, comes the advice from all corners followed by variety of threats. In spite of this I made a point that I will sit tight for the first match of Brazil in this championship which was played in that third slot.
On retrospective I wonder whether the pain that I took was worth all the efforts. The game against Crotia was very sedate never reaching any great heights. The utter disappointment was with Ronaldo. His game on that day just reminded me of the final Brazil played against France in 1998 World Cup Final. In both these games Ronaldo was to be seen as physically quite inadequate. The times his foot touched the ball were very few; even when he had the chance to get the ball, he never ‘played’ them with his usual artistry. He looked very ordinary. Even when he was caught offside, even after the free kick is taken for it, he was found in the offside without even hurrying back. So much was his lethargy. On the other hand, Ronaldinho was always well covered by at least two Croatian players not permitting him to have enough space to play his game. His toothy smiles looked more out of place and rather inappropriate. Carlos, the old war horse was showing his old self. In the end, there was a taste of dissatisfaction and disappointment. All said and done the goal by Kaka has saved them. Hopefully they come back with new vigor and better planning and above all, if Ronaldo comes back to the scene as the hero of last world cup, what a treat it would be.
If the above match was a sedate show of talents, another match between Sweden and Trindad & Tobago (by the by, where is this country? I keep thinking to explore it in the world atlas!) was a thriller. The underdogs T & T became TNT! What an explosion of spirit and their never-say-die-efforts. Kudos to these minnows. The irony of the match was many folded: the ball possession between the highly ranked Sweden and T &T were 60 : 40; the latter played with just 10 members for the whole of second half; the ball was always, especially in the second half, deep in the Trinidad’s half. In spite of all these things, Swedes could not break their opponents’ defense and score a goal. And the whole credit should go to Hislop, the custodian for T & T. He was the hero of the day. How many saves he made on that day! It was a gripping match, the Trinidadians robbing the hearts of all, of course except the die hard fans of Sweden and the Swedish themselves.
If the above match was like sitting on a TNT keg all through the match, one another match was like a pathetic drama ending with a great sentimental and anticlimactic turn of events. Yes, it was the match between the Japs and the Australians. The former had a surprising early goal, in the 24th minute itself. And there was almost a goal for parity from Australians but luck was then on the side of Japanese. So went the game for the full length – well, almost to the full length. Because in the last minute, to be precise from the 84th minute within a span of 8 – 10m minutes three goals against Japanese turned the tide completely against them. It was so unbelievable on such an event of three quick goals and the whole thing changed.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
18. WORLD CUP - MY DIARY-PAGE 2
10th June
First match was between England Vs Paraguay. Score was 2:0.
Match never reached any unusaula heights. Owen was substitiuted soon after his first goal, for what reason I dont know. Rooney was sittisng onthe bench. Beckam's long
shot was headed into goal.
Second match was between Trinidad VS Sweden. The former was considered the underdogs and their defeat would be with a two goal margin. But to everybody's surprise they held their fort, that too in the second half with just 10 people. Overall ball possession was 60% with Sweden and there were 8 corners for them against one for Trinidad. In the last 30 minutes ball was within Trinidad's half and in spite of all these Swedes could not get a clear view of their opponents goal mouth at all. Rock-like stood the goal keeper of Trinidad, Shakka Hislop. He was the hero of the day, undoubtedly. The dying minutes of the game was very tense and he made beautiful saves thwarting a victory to the Swedish. Swedish, both players and their fans struck by this unexpected result were simply stunned and remained so silent in contrast to the jubilinat mood of Trinidads after the game was over. In one of the earlier championships I remebmber a young Swedish player - I think his name was Brolin or something. I dont know waht has happened to that player after that world cup.
First match was between England Vs Paraguay. Score was 2:0.
Match never reached any unusaula heights. Owen was substitiuted soon after his first goal, for what reason I dont know. Rooney was sittisng onthe bench. Beckam's long
shot was headed into goal.
Second match was between Trinidad VS Sweden. The former was considered the underdogs and their defeat would be with a two goal margin. But to everybody's surprise they held their fort, that too in the second half with just 10 people. Overall ball possession was 60% with Sweden and there were 8 corners for them against one for Trinidad. In the last 30 minutes ball was within Trinidad's half and in spite of all these Swedes could not get a clear view of their opponents goal mouth at all. Rock-like stood the goal keeper of Trinidad, Shakka Hislop. He was the hero of the day, undoubtedly. The dying minutes of the game was very tense and he made beautiful saves thwarting a victory to the Swedish. Swedish, both players and their fans struck by this unexpected result were simply stunned and remained so silent in contrast to the jubilinat mood of Trinidads after the game was over. In one of the earlier championships I remebmber a young Swedish player - I think his name was Brolin or something. I dont know waht has happened to that player after that world cup.
17. WORLD CUP - MY DIARY PAGE 1
It was World Cup 1986. For everyone in India that should have been the first experience to watch live matches of World Cup Football since that was the first time we had TV coverage and that too, live! I did not have a TV at home then. There was only lackadaisical interest in TV since there were no worthwhile programs then. If at all there was one program which attracted every Tamil was the “light and sound” (ஒலியும் ஒளியும்) on Friday evenings. The rest were all in Hindi. Only from 1987, on the first day of Tamil month, Thai Tamil broadcasting came into being and we were ready to welcome it by buying a TV on 23rd Dec.,”86 itself.
So during the days of 1986 world cup I was thinking of all possibilities - whether to go to a friend’s house at 5 km distance or to choose some other spot. Luckily one of my neighbors was in earnest search for a viewing-partner. Even if Pele or Maradona plays what would be the interest unless a small group of football aficionados come together to watch a match. We found each other and made an arrangement. I would join him at 11pm or 11.10 pm, since the match started at 11.20. The ten minute gap was meant for us to discuss the teams, their strength and weakness and to predict the outcome of that day’s match. Then with rapt attention broken by intermittent shouts of ha’s, hoo’s and achachoo’s we would be absorbed for the next 45 minutes. Then the tea-break for us. We would be having a hot tea, banana and cigarettes. And of course analysis of the game with I-told-you-so would ensue before we plunge back into the game.
Watching these matches in the small screen was itself a very new experience since that was the first time we witnessed the work of graphics. Even the immediate play backs and umpteen number of angles covering a goal mouth melee were new to Indian viewers who would have watched only the tamashas shot at the studio interiors of Doordarshan – with the same set of stage-props for all countless serials. Hearing every time a commentator shouting - gooooooooooooal ! – would send a shiver to the whole body and psyche together.
Even before the tournament started, though we have not seen any world-level football till then, Brazil was our favorite team, since the love for Brazil is always attached to the fame of the all time great, Pele. One of the matches we remember was the match between England and Argentina, spear headed by the next-to-Pele, Maradona. The (in)famous hand-of-god goal of Maradona and the next goal by his solo effort from the midfield were memorable. The one thing I hate in football is the fate of any team getting decided by penalty shoot-outs. In every such situation my heart used to go to the loser, whichever team it could be. Umpire’s whistle for a penalty shoot out always sounds to me quite ominous. This time it was our favorite team, Brazil was destined to be defeated by France in a penalty shoot out. I still vividly remember the candid shots of sad faces from Brazil’s supporters in the audience – an old man, supporting his chin with his walking stick was unmindful of the tears running down his cheeks; a young Brazilian lass, bubbling with youthful energy till then, dancing and merry making during the game was now in total disarray, looking utterly crestfallen.
To compensate these sad tidings, we developed a liking for that pudgy workhorse, Maradona. All our support went for him and his team and we were happy at the end of the tournament since it was the final victorious team. Along the course, the English player Lineker also won our hearts, though not as much as Maradona.
1990 World Cup:
This time it was solo-watch at home and I remember the matches were in quite awful times, late nights or very early mornings. Most of the matches were watched in sleepy mood . Brazil remained the favorite team, and individually Maradona as the favorite player. Winner – Germany
1994.
That was almost immediately after my second heart attack. At the time of discharge –it was just a week or so prior to the championship - I asked the doc what are the dos and don’ts. One of the don’ts was seeing world cup, since I might become emotional which could hurt my week heart. That never deterred me. This time Ronaldo captured my imagination and the favorite team won the cup.
1998.
Very much disappointed with Ronaldo and the Brazilian team.
2002.
Ronaldinho became my favorite player. Japs got a soft corner with its captain, with his multi-colored hair!
PRESENT WORLD CUP
Like any other time Brazil remains the favorite team, with Ronaldinho as its key player. The next favorite is Henry of French team.
DAY 1:
It seems games would be mostly played at 9.30 pm. Not bad. I think I have to skip the midnight timings for some matches.
Match I: (June 9th) Germany Vs Costa Rica – for long I have been thinking to identify this nation in the atlas. Should do it soon.
This game, the very first one in this championship, was a thorough anti-climax. Didn’t like the way the game went. Both the teams very much lacked positional play. When a Costa Rican player gets the ball, the Germans at least 3 of them will be crowding that guy. Bet before the game started was that for Germans it would be a walk over with 2 or 3 goal margin, that is, 2-0 or 3-0. But it was 4-2 which shows Germans in bad light.
The second match was between Ecuador and Poland. I don’t why my heart always go for the team with darker skin! Am I a racist; has to be so, always siding with the black-team (!) when the opponent is white. So also for Ecuador. They won 2-0. I watched the game 15 min. after the moiety. In the first half, Poland played with short passes and their opponents passed high balls. They scored once. But still in the second half they changed, I don’t know for what, their style and went for short passing as the Polish team.
Plan to add up further on daily basis. Let us see............
So during the days of 1986 world cup I was thinking of all possibilities - whether to go to a friend’s house at 5 km distance or to choose some other spot. Luckily one of my neighbors was in earnest search for a viewing-partner. Even if Pele or Maradona plays what would be the interest unless a small group of football aficionados come together to watch a match. We found each other and made an arrangement. I would join him at 11pm or 11.10 pm, since the match started at 11.20. The ten minute gap was meant for us to discuss the teams, their strength and weakness and to predict the outcome of that day’s match. Then with rapt attention broken by intermittent shouts of ha’s, hoo’s and achachoo’s we would be absorbed for the next 45 minutes. Then the tea-break for us. We would be having a hot tea, banana and cigarettes. And of course analysis of the game with I-told-you-so would ensue before we plunge back into the game.
Watching these matches in the small screen was itself a very new experience since that was the first time we witnessed the work of graphics. Even the immediate play backs and umpteen number of angles covering a goal mouth melee were new to Indian viewers who would have watched only the tamashas shot at the studio interiors of Doordarshan – with the same set of stage-props for all countless serials. Hearing every time a commentator shouting - gooooooooooooal ! – would send a shiver to the whole body and psyche together.
Even before the tournament started, though we have not seen any world-level football till then, Brazil was our favorite team, since the love for Brazil is always attached to the fame of the all time great, Pele. One of the matches we remember was the match between England and Argentina, spear headed by the next-to-Pele, Maradona. The (in)famous hand-of-god goal of Maradona and the next goal by his solo effort from the midfield were memorable. The one thing I hate in football is the fate of any team getting decided by penalty shoot-outs. In every such situation my heart used to go to the loser, whichever team it could be. Umpire’s whistle for a penalty shoot out always sounds to me quite ominous. This time it was our favorite team, Brazil was destined to be defeated by France in a penalty shoot out. I still vividly remember the candid shots of sad faces from Brazil’s supporters in the audience – an old man, supporting his chin with his walking stick was unmindful of the tears running down his cheeks; a young Brazilian lass, bubbling with youthful energy till then, dancing and merry making during the game was now in total disarray, looking utterly crestfallen.
To compensate these sad tidings, we developed a liking for that pudgy workhorse, Maradona. All our support went for him and his team and we were happy at the end of the tournament since it was the final victorious team. Along the course, the English player Lineker also won our hearts, though not as much as Maradona.
1990 World Cup:
This time it was solo-watch at home and I remember the matches were in quite awful times, late nights or very early mornings. Most of the matches were watched in sleepy mood . Brazil remained the favorite team, and individually Maradona as the favorite player. Winner – Germany
1994.
That was almost immediately after my second heart attack. At the time of discharge –it was just a week or so prior to the championship - I asked the doc what are the dos and don’ts. One of the don’ts was seeing world cup, since I might become emotional which could hurt my week heart. That never deterred me. This time Ronaldo captured my imagination and the favorite team won the cup.
1998.
Very much disappointed with Ronaldo and the Brazilian team.
2002.
Ronaldinho became my favorite player. Japs got a soft corner with its captain, with his multi-colored hair!
PRESENT WORLD CUP
Like any other time Brazil remains the favorite team, with Ronaldinho as its key player. The next favorite is Henry of French team.
DAY 1:
It seems games would be mostly played at 9.30 pm. Not bad. I think I have to skip the midnight timings for some matches.
Match I: (June 9th) Germany Vs Costa Rica – for long I have been thinking to identify this nation in the atlas. Should do it soon.
This game, the very first one in this championship, was a thorough anti-climax. Didn’t like the way the game went. Both the teams very much lacked positional play. When a Costa Rican player gets the ball, the Germans at least 3 of them will be crowding that guy. Bet before the game started was that for Germans it would be a walk over with 2 or 3 goal margin, that is, 2-0 or 3-0. But it was 4-2 which shows Germans in bad light.
The second match was between Ecuador and Poland. I don’t why my heart always go for the team with darker skin! Am I a racist; has to be so, always siding with the black-team (!) when the opponent is white. So also for Ecuador. They won 2-0. I watched the game 15 min. after the moiety. In the first half, Poland played with short passes and their opponents passed high balls. They scored once. But still in the second half they changed, I don’t know for what, their style and went for short passing as the Polish team.
Plan to add up further on daily basis. Let us see............
Sunday, May 28, 2006
16. A POEM FOUND ON MY PATH.
Lying on the sands
Eyes on the horizon
The hypnotic clouds
Merge, then diverge.
Lying alone
With only the wind's sound
Feel lifted, begin to float
To spaces beyond,
And Times before.
Memories crowd
Can't cry, can't smile
Does it hurt, can't say,
Can only see
The Times gone by
No desire left
To live or to die.
Were I to sit back
And watch the world go by?
The wind tries to push me
And rains rush down.
I stay there,
Move not.
Over me waves begin to roll
I remain there
No desire left
To live or die.
I wonder
Am I dead already?
And my thoughts floating about
Like the ash of the burnt wood
I wonder.........
Eyes on the horizon
The hypnotic clouds
Merge, then diverge.
Lying alone
With only the wind's sound
Feel lifted, begin to float
To spaces beyond,
And Times before.
Memories crowd
Can't cry, can't smile
Does it hurt, can't say,
Can only see
The Times gone by
No desire left
To live or to die.
Were I to sit back
And watch the world go by?
The wind tries to push me
And rains rush down.
I stay there,
Move not.
Over me waves begin to roll
I remain there
No desire left
To live or die.
I wonder
Am I dead already?
And my thoughts floating about
Like the ash of the burnt wood
I wonder.........
Saturday, May 27, 2006
15. HISTORY AND PLIGHT OF DALITS OF INDIA -3.
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A 3- part article:
Post 1; Post 2; Post 3;
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After Independence, to fulfill the Constitution provisions, the Indian Government has passed various legislations to enforce the abolishment of 'untouchability' and remove the barriers of caste discrimination impeding the socio-economic progress of the Dalits. This included the Protection of Civil Rights (Anti-Untouchability) Act, 1955 and various land reform laws to redistribute land to the landless, a large and disproportionate percentage of whom were and still are Dalits. Later years saw the passage of the Bonded Labour (Abolition) Act, 1976, Employment of Manual Scavengers and Construction of Dry Latrines (Prohibition) Act, 1993, Jogini Act No. 10, and the Scheduled Castes/Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989 & Rules, 1995. The central and state governments also established SC/ST Welfare Departments soon after Independence. In the early 1990s, the Central Government passed legislation establishing the National Commission for SC/ST and the National Human Rights Commission.
There is no doubt that none of these would have been possible without the interventions made by Dr. Ambedkar, to ensure that Independent India would be based on a democratic constitution that guaranteed equality, fundamental rights and dignity to all regardless of caste. Had he succumbed to his contemporary dominant-caste nationalists who pressured him to settle these matters internally, Dalits would be much worse off than they are today.
The much acclaimed affirmative actions by the Governments, in the form of the Constitutional provisions, powerful Legislations, Judicial Activism and the existence of Human Rights Mechanisms – National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), Scheduled Caste and Scheduled Tribes (Dalits) Commission, National Commission for Women are not able to protect Dalits from the heinous crime of untouchability.
Any small attempt of Dalits, to “assert their rights or their resistance against the violence” unleashed on Dalits, is viewed as an act of Disobedience and creation of a Law and Order problem. This results in brutal attack on Dalits, by the state machinery, especially the police. The Dalits are at the receiving end, both by the dominant caste and by the state police force, which is also very much dominated by the dominant caste persons. Crimes and atrocities on Dalits have ever been increasing over the past few years. The National Crimes Record Bureau recorded only 8,500 crimes against Dalits in 1997 but the ‘Minor Studies Series’ puts the figure at between 55,000 and 65,000 per year. There has been a sudden spurt from around 18,000 per year in 1993. The Report states that over 250 people have been killed in caste clashes in TamilNadu since 1995. Eighty-six were killed in 1997 alone. Of the total of 167,000 cases of crime against the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes framed between 1995 and 1996, only 4,322, a paltry 2.6% resulted in conviction. Chopping of heads of Dalits, maiming limbs, chasing them from their inhabitations and looting their properties, still persist. Dalits are prevented from contesting in local body elections and in case elected, not recognized and allowed to function as leaders of village body Panchayats.
More than that the people in power still have no real concern for the emancipation of the dalits.
The Indian Government sounded increasingly irrational as it shouted itself hoarse to deny a problem that everybody else can plainly see. Similar to its predecessors in the Nationalist Movement who opposed Dr. Ambedkar for raising the specific concerns of the Dalits with regard to Independence in the Round Table Conference, the then BJP Government was opposed to the efforts of Dalits who seek the support of the United Nations in the context of the World Conference Against Racism in strengthening India's own constitutional obligations to abolish 'untouchability' and caste-based discrimination. As on date, courts have to intervene and order district collectors to make it possible for dalits to rightfully partake in the temple functions.
Either the constitution or the legislations or the judiciary or the other Human Rights mechanisms in the form of Human rights commissions at various levels from the states to the center are not providing effective safeguards and guarantees to ensure Dalits rights. Even the most powerful instrument currently available in defense of Dalits rights, namely SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act 1989, hardly provide effective safeguards for protection and promotion of Dalit Human Rights. Article 17 of the Indian constitution proclaims that the practice of untouchability is abolished. Denial of temple entry, prohibiting access to common water sourecs, denial of share in the common property of villages, separate burial grounds, prevalence of two separate glass system in tea stall, are some of the inhuman forms of manifestations of untouchability that exist even today.
Caste discrimination cannot end without concrete social, educational and economic changes. The irony is that dalits, comprising 16% of India’s population, suffer from a disease, even more pathetic than the practice of untouchability – the ideological dominance of the upper castes who control not only social, economic and political power in the country but even knowledge and opinion. Even the personal experience of being discriminated against does not become an issue unless ‘permitted’ by the experts and the state. To disbelieve them is a necessary precondition for dalit assertion. The Dalits have been in dark in exercising their political rights viz the denial of rights to contest the village local body election. The village Melavalavu in Madurai District evinced the murder of the Dalit Panchayat President and other six Dalits by the Dominant Caste, for they could not assimilate the winning of a post in election by a Dalit.
Education: The correlation between quality education and emancipation is well established globally. How then can we justify that 50% of dalit children (64% dalit girl children) are pushed out of the school system before they can complete even primary education? How do we ensure a strong nation, assuming that dalits are part of the nation, when we cannot even ensure basic education to 16% of our population?
Civil Protection: The current government statistics of murder, rape and assault that dalits are subjected to paint a horrible picture if extended to a history of 3000 years. We have reason to believe that approximately 21,90,000 dalits have been murdered, 32,85,000 raped and over 7,50,00,000 assaulted. The violence perpetrated on dalits cannot be rooted out until long term economic, social and political measures, such as land reforms, are firmly implemented. The helplessness of dalits gets magnified by the general apathy of bureaucrats and especially of the police force to rush to their help. Even when dalits are attacked by caste hindus it is always the dalits who bear the brunt of the violence. The Keezha-vanmani burning decades ago or the recent killings in Melavalavu and the routine massacres in Bihar and the significant lack of conviction will always remain as indelible stains on our democracy. Unless dalits too get social positions, especially in the police force, the administrative institutions will be always against the dalits.
All these things are what the government and othe s have to do for the emancipation of the dalits. But this would not be enough at all. The awareness of the dalits themselves is most essenctioal requirement. Any amount of eduction or awareness programs cannot result in the assertion of the dalits. Instead it has to come from within. Waiting for somethjng to hapaen outside to help themcome out of their pitiable state may be a pipe dream. An even more serious question is whether the state that represents a certain class and caste culture, can be entrusted with the responsibility of education, especially for dalit children. Education, if perceived as a tool of empowerment, needless to add, cannot be trusted in the hands of state agencies. The oneness of all sects of dalits and their inner force to break the shackles are the need of the day.
Friday, May 26, 2006
14. HISTORY AND PLIGHT OF DALITS OF INDIA - 2.
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A 3- part article:
Post 1; Post 2; Post 3;
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In the course of the movement for an Independent India, the problem of 'untouchability' and caste discrimination against Dalits became an international issue. It was due to the radical, bold stand that Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, leading Dalit figure of the 20th century and architect of India's Constitution, made on behalf of the ''Depressed Classes' as the British prepared to transfer political power to the dominant castes who influenced the character of the Independence Movement.
He made one of his most brilliant stands on behalf of the "Depressed Classes" in 1930-1931 at the Round Table Conference in London, in which leading representatives of the various communities in Indian Sub-Continent met to discuss and come to an agreement on the main points that must be included in the constitution for a self-governing India. Ambedkar plainly told the Conference that the "Depressed Classes" would not accept any constitution for self-rule that did not guarantee them equal citizenship and fundamental rights and abolish the practice of untouchability.
Ambedkar's bold, radical stance was strongly resented by many dominant-caste leaders of the Independence Movement, who accused him of dividing the Independence Movement and playing stooge to the British Raj. They lectured him that the situation of the 'untouchables' was an internal matter and urged him to wait until Independence was achieved. (the same argument was raised when dalits wanted to reaise their issue in the THE UN World Conference Against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance (WCAR) held at Durban) Ambedkar, however, saw things quite differently Religious orthodoxy and deep-rooted caste prejudice confined the nationalist movement to largely representing the aspirations of the dominant castes for political and economic power. Ambedkar was keenly aware of this.
“I am sorry to say, Sir, that I have been deluded. I find now that although some of our people would desire me and others to join them in their demand for Dominion Status, they do not join with us in demanding that the Government which will be set up under that Dominion Status shall be responsible to the people of India as a whole. I never thought there would be this division of opinion, and that I should have to stand up to defend the position we take. Now, Sir, speaking on behalf of the Depressed Classes I cannot honestly consent to responsible Government or to Dominion Status unless I can be sure that the people for whom I speak are to have a place in that constitution”.
Ambedkar's intervention at the Round Table Conference articulated an authentic democratic vision of Swaraj based on equality, liberty and fraternity, principles alien to a social order based on caste division and hierarchy. It was largely as a result of Ambedkar's interventions at the Round Table Conference that the Indian Constitution guaranteed fundamental rights, established universal suffrage, abolished 'untouchability' and guaranteed reservation in legislature and government services for Dalits, Adi Vasis and minorities.
It may be interesting to note that Gandhiji, for all the propaganda surrounding his name, did not abolish untouchability. Ambedkar, the `Father of the Indian Constitution' and greatest leader of the Black Untouchables (Dalits and Adivasis), has written about Gandhi's policy of subjugating the Untouchables,
" Hinduism is a veritable chamber of horrors. The sanctity and infallibility of the Vedas, Smritis and Shastras, the iron law of caste, the heartless law of karma and the senseless law of status by birth are to the Untouchables veritable instruments of torture which Hinduism has forged against untouchables. These very instruments which have mutilated; blasted and blighted the lives of the Untouchables are to be found intact and untarnished in the bosom of Gandhism."
This is because Gandhi was a staunch follower of the Brahminist caste system. :
" Supporting the caste system he [ Gandhi ] said: "I believe that caste has saved Hinduism from disintegration." He also said, "To destroy the caste system and adopt the Western European social system means that Hindus must give up the principle of hereditary occupation, which is the soul of the caste system. The hereditary principle is an eternal principle. To change it is to create disorder."
The greatest crime committed by Gandhi against the Black Race was to deny the Black Untouchables of India separate electorates and sabotaging the plan to emancipiate Untouchables :
" In the Round Table Conference held in 1932, the then British Government accepted the demand of the Dalits for separate electorate. The basis of that demand was the fact that the Dalit are not Hindu but a separate nation. Gandhi started his 'fast unto death' against that plan and sabotaged it. It was a thunderous blow to the cause of the emancipation of the Dalit."
Indeed, Gandhi displayed a marked bias against the Black Untouchables." In 1933, he established Harijan (Dalit) Sevak Sangh for the welfare of the Untouchables (Dalits). But when there was a demand for the representation of the Untouchables on the Governing Board of the institution, he flatly refused it. He disapproved appointment of Mr. Agnibhai, a distinguished personality, as a minister in the Congress cabinet in the Madhya Pradesh because he was from the Scheduled Caste."
As a supreme fate of irony, it is the Brahmins the Mahatma so supported that eventually killed him !
There were also other social redformers like E.V.R. popularly known as Periyar, a contemporary of Dr. Ambedkar. Periyar's self-respect movement began in an aggressive way at Vaikom, in the present Kerala. It was on behalf of the Untouchable castes who were not allowed even to walk on a street right before a temple. The agitation became famous as "Vaikom struggle". Dr. Ambedkar wrote an Editorial about this historic achievement in his journal, Mooka Nayak. If Ambedkar challenged the Brahmanical order of society and sought to uphold the basic human rights of the depressed classes. E.V. Ramasami's contributions were no less significant. The imprint of his struggles are to be found in the social and political spheres of the Tamil region in Southern India. His challenge to Brahmanism was sought to be posited through an alternative, democratic culture. It was the unique self-respect movement.
Monday, May 22, 2006
13. HISTORY AND PLIGHT OF DALITS OF INDIA. - 1
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A 3- part article:
Post 1; Post 2; Post 3;
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Though there are so many things about India - like its prehistoric civilization, multicultural ethnicity, present day technocratic social milieu, its upcoming prestige as a global IT giant - that can make every Indian proud, there is one another aspect of our society that would make every Indian feel ashamed. That is the caste discrimination. Indians have been living with this shame for centuries now. Can anybody with a conscience accept the atrocities heaped by our society as a whole upon those who carry the night soil on their heads, those who toil in the lands of the rich as bonded labourers for generations, those who are kept more as inanimate things than as normal human beings. How long this sickly psyche blaming all these to ‘fate’ or ‘god’s will’ will go on? Sadly none can be sure when, if ever, this blotch would be cleansed once for all from the face of Indian society.
Origin of this caste system in the Indian society dates back to thousands of years. The fair skinned Aryans arrived in India around 1500 B,C. from South Europe and North Asia. When the fair-skinned Aryans invaded India, about two thousand years before Jesus Christ they defeated the dark-skinned indigenous people, Dravidians, who were the founder of the Indian Civilization. The Aryans subjugated them, learnt many things from them and built up another civilization, which came to be known as the Ganges Valley or Hindu Civilization. To perpetuate the enslavement of the original inhabitants of India, the Aryans created the caste system, and thereby excluded them from their own society with the name of Sudra (which means slave). And more than this, another group of people were left as ‘outcastes’ who were even denied of human status. In order to secure their status the Aryans resolved some social and religious rules, which allowed only them to be the priests, warriors and the businessmen of the society. History of the Aryan intrusion into India and their dominance over the original inhabitants, Dravidians and the prominence given to the scriptures of the former were the root cause for this caste discrimination. Vedas, smiruthis and manushastra, the scriptures of Aryans became the pillars of Hinduism. Caste system institutionalized by them had been made as Varnashram ordained by their gods. Varnashram, not only classified the society into four divisions, left out the fifth category, the untouchables and even unseeables. The fate of this lot had been remaining the same for all these past millennia. The Hindu caste system upholds with religious sanctions a hierarchical society. It does not even recognize this fifth class as human beings at all. The Brahmanic varna system (`varnashrama dharma') is basically a genocidal apartheid system designed to exterminate the `black varna'. The theory of Aryan invasion could be a matter of dispute and there is, of late, a counter theroy denying the 'invasion' ofAryans. But what cannot be denied is the place for varnashram in Hindu Vedas.
Following quotes from their manushastra will prove the level of cruelty they showed towards the low caste and outcaste people:
" Having killed a cat, an ichneumon, a blue jay, a frog, a dog, an iguana, an owl, or a crow, he shall perform the penance for the murder of a Sudra." -- [ Manu IX.132 ]
" Every act that is considered the privilege of the Brahman, such as saying prayers, the reciting of the Veda, and offering of sacrifices to the fire, is forbidden to him, to such a degree that when, a Sudra or a Vaisya is proved to have recited the Veda, he is accused by the Brahmans before the ruler, and the latter will order his tongue to be cut off. However, the meditation on God is not prohibited.-- [ al-B.ii.127 Ch.LXIV ] "
· " A once-born man (Sudra) who insults a twice-born man (Aryan) with gross invective, shall have his tongue cut out; for he is of low origin." -- [ Manu VIII.270 ]
· " If he mentions the names and castes (Jati) of the (twice-born) contumely, an iron nail, 10 fingers long, shall be thrust red-hot into his mouth." -- [ Manu VIII.271 ]
· " If he arrogantly teaches Brahmins their duty, the king shall cause hot oil to be poured into his mouth and into his ears. " -- [ Manu VIII.272
The great distinctions of caste are to be maintained not only in the earthly life, but also after death. According to Markandaya Purana, after death, the virtuous Brahman goes to the abode of Brahma, the good Kshatriya to that of Indra, the worthy Vashya to that of the Maruts, and the dutiful Sudra to that of the Gandharvas. Apparently, the Untouchable (Dalit) does not deserve any place in any heaven, may be because of his untouchability even by gods themselves!
During the British period the rulers had tried to implement some affirmative measures to the welfare of the outcastes. They were the ones who introduced the terms: scheduled castes and scheduled tribes. British Government provided the outcastes with free lands, known as Ipanchami lands. But by the dominance of the upper castes and the ignorance of the outcastes, all the lands thus given for outcastes are with the upper castes. The term ‘dalits’ meaning ‘broken people’ was first used by Jyotiraj Phule Maharashtra (1827-1890), a backward class social reformer, to describe the untouchables and outcastes of India as the oppressed and broken victims of the Hindu society. The term is a constant reminder of their age-old oppression and deprivation. It does not actually mean poor or outcast but it is a state to which a certain section of the people have been reduced through systemic and systematic religious process and are forced to live continually in that predicament. Dalits all over India are forced to undertake the filthy and the menial work of sweeping, manual scavenging, drum beating and cremating the dead bodies. Dalits are treated as slaves and still they are forced to bear the pains of “social boycotting” an illegal pronouncement by the dominant caste people.
Naked parading, forcing Dalit women to become maidens to God, - a ritulalistic prostitution and sexual harrassment of Dalit women by the dominant caste persons, which are still a common sight in some parts of the country.
to be continued.....
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