60. MY TWO BASIC QUESTIONS TO BELIEVERS

ஏனைய பதிவுகள்:

1. https://sixth-finger.blogspot.com/2018/11/60-dialogue-with-jim.html

2. https://sixth-finger.blogspot.com/2019/03/61-question-on-free-will-of-man.html

3. https://sixth-finger.blogspot.com/2020/02/62-question-on-prayer.html

4. https://sixth-finger.blogspot.com/2020/02/63-distancing-from-christianity.html

5. https://sixth-finger.blogspot.com/2020/03/64-distancing-from-christianity-2.html

6. https://sixth-finger.blogspot.com/2020/06/65-religious-turning-point-6.html

Let me start with TWO questions:

1. Some quotes to show what a tiny piece is our earth in the galaxies:

·         The number of galaxies cannot be counted—the observable universe alone may contain 100 billion.

·         The universe's largest known galaxies are giant elliptical galaxies, which may be as much as two million light-years long.

·         The visible universe is about 98 billion light years in diameter; and the diameter of the earth only about 0.04 light seconds.

·         Earth is a small tiny piece in our universes. 

We live on such a tiny speck of dust, a very little thing in the universe. But all our religions tell us gods come to this speck to salvage the Homo sapiens, even leaving out all other living things on this planet.

The two facts, earth being so small and gods select only this planet, sound so illogical. How come gods selected only this part of universe to have all their funny games? Who knows, they do this in all habitable planets - I don't think this answer is suffice. The geocentric and anthropocentric ideas of all religions are highly questionable.

2. NO RELIGION IS UNIVERSAL. All religions are topographic-specific. Gods of a country go around only in that country and never dare to visit other countries, let alone continents.  

Greek gods roam around Greece; all hill tops in Greece are their abodes. No Greek god appeared anywhere other than Greece.

All Hindu gods - innumerable in number - never crossed the borders of India. They may be in Himalayas or in Cape Comerin, the southernmost end of India. They had their flying fleet but never crossed our shores. Even to Sri Lanka Rama (man or god?) waded through a (Hanu)man made (sic)bridge!

Same goes true for all three Abrahamic religions - Judaism, Christianity and Islam. They have a common big god - Jehova. But all happenings detailed in Torah, Old and New Testaments and Quran were there only in the Middle East. Leave alone the gods; even the prophets, ruling dynasties, and all miracles like being swallowed by whales and regurgitated the live prophet after three days; the Noah's arc ....  you name any person or any incident in these three holy books, all these men and matters belong to Middle East. Not even  a single prophet came from another country or continent. WHY? 

This just proves every religion is a localised entity and was the creation of the people of a specific country. Had there been one god, it should have gone to all places of our earth to salvage all human souls; nothing should restrain the omniscient god to crossing oceans or mountains ...

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               This post is open to all. 

            All are welcome to have a 

              discussion on this. 

              The comment section would go well  

              with further discussion with YOU!

*

59. SOME EXCERPTS FROM A BOOK ON MOTHER TERESA

58. ANOTHER POEM ON MY PATH

*

You’ve had a good life –

You’ve left a maverick mark

On the modern sands of education;

A lot of people respect you

A lot of your students adore you; you’ve made a little of a lot of students,

You’ve had French Café atmosphere times with the

                                                               aroma of intellectual stuff

you’ve enjoyed the world with your camera

you’ve lived and loved and laughed till you cried.

So be happy …. You ought to be

It’s only a few people who could have enjoyed life like you did.

I suppose you could have run other things too

May be better than others.

But when, if you could have done it then

You can do it now too.

At least

In a different way, through a different role,

With or without official badges.

It’s the things done which matters, yes?

Do it Sam. Make a difference

Start an organization like Cry – perhaps.

Make it work.

Make me more proud of you.

Come to think of it, for whatever little, it may mean to you

I never interacted like this, with anyone else

In the whole of the universe,

The soul of Sam means the most to me.

Since you came into my life,

Life has become heady like champagne ( J I’ve never tasted it but…)

I wish I could tell you

How much I like you

Or may be, just may be

You feel the same way

And so you know.

If at the end of life

If all souls are free and asked

To choose their own heaven

If God were to say to me

‘you’ve been good,

What do you want?’

I would say – ‘Sam”!

57. OCHAPPAN AND HIS LOVE FOR HIS MOTHER TONGUE

*

Ochappan is the pseudonym of Henk, from Belgium. An ace photographer - not interested in taking snapshots of our temples or our celebrations. Instead he likes to capture the dynamic lives of people on the roads and at their homes. He is an avid visitor of Madurai for the past two decades. Comes during our winter months, roams around the rural Madurai photo-capturing lively and lovely colour-filled scenes of our lives. Scanning his photographs will tell more than  a book could tell on our culture. He likes Madurai and its people so much that he chose the Dravidian name, Ochappan, whom he befriended in his first visit.  All his photos are known in this name rather than  in his own name! The name Ochappan has been immortalised by him on a very high artistic pedestal through his photographs in the internet.

Last week we had a chit chat. Talked about our countries and he projected the major difference between our two cultures. He detailed how they were more linguistic than us and protected their personal lingual entity and showed their love for their mother tongue. On the contrast we have been keeping Tamil in a high ivory pedestal with lovely adulations … as கன்னித் தமிழ்  .. தெய்வத் தமிழ் ... தமிழன்னை .. etc .. etc.  But  he questions whether we do the right thing to our mother tongue.

Following are the questions raised by Henk / Ochappan to everyTamilian:

Dear Sam,

The Sint-Lievens College was founded in 1930 for the insight and the deployment of Lieven Gevaert (Afga-Gevaert), an industrialist with an eye for social and Flemish needs for Dutch school education. The pride of your own mother-tongue, Dutch was the key for the revival of the Flemish culture, dominated for years by French invasions and domination, which chased away very famous Dutch writers from Antwerp (Belgium) to the Netherlands. Nowadays Flanders grew out to a strong region at the top of world technology, proud leaving behind the French hegemony.

Remarkable reverse evolution happens in Tamil Nadu, people are dominated by the foreign language, English. It is considered English-speaking ones are  the elite of Tamil society. Many such are not able anymore to read or write their own mother-tongue Tamil,  making  them foreigners in their own land, alienated from their own culture, looking down on their origin and the common Tamilians as lower caste, copying the English, and exploiting other non-English-speaking Tamils in a worse way. They can't be called proud Tamilians anymore as they chose to reject all Tamil values and its tradition and culture, not aware that they lost their personal-identity. They may praise themselves lucky for the tolerance of the majority Tamils.

Only the Tamil government can preserve their culture by making Tamil a compulsory medium of education. Tamil is one of the oldest languages and still remains as a spoken classical language, with its great Tamil culture, traditions and great jewels of Tamil literature. The more languages you know the more cultures you understand. But  you have an identity only when you master your own mother-tongue. A proud Tamil should know his language and his culture.

Greetings

Henk

www.oochappan.be 

56. A POLITICAL HYBRID

*
Every morning a few points of my BP shoot up a little and then after one or two hours it comes down to its original state. My doctor suggested that I try to avoid this unnecessary hip hop of my pressure. The only way out is to stop reading the newspaper. What could an old retired guy like me do other than this everyday morning? Does it not become a routine part of our lives? Imagining the numbers of zeroes you have to add to the assumed amounts of corruptions makes anybody jitterybut it is a nice pastime! It is even more interesting than playing the sudoku! So I could not help but reading the news and playing a ‘deadly’ game with my blood pressure.



But two days back a centre page news item made me feel so happy. I did not feel any usual head swinging after reading the paper. It was a different story. One centre page news item told that Italy is more corrupt than India – at least one step ahead. The country does not stop with that. The sexual exploits of the PM, which can be competed ball-for-ball by one of our own old governors, are really awesome. How can we, the normal human beings, try to feel envy of those ‘big people’ and their games? Italy’s PM not only enjoys his ball game with ‘under-age nymphets’ but also earns the support of half of the country’s poplulation. But I don’t know whether the sexual exploits and the support have any correlation. The story was long and very interesting, and challenging too for the Indian bahus.



With this joyous mood I closed the paper for the day. But suddenly another thought came to my mind. It was a sort of scientific query. It was about HYBRIDS. Dictionary says a hybrid is an offspring produced by two different varieties of parents. A question propped up in my mind. What would happen if there is some one as an ‘offspring’ of an Indian – Italian pair taking the prime post in India?

Disclaimer: This post without any picture is very dull. So just to add some ‘colour’ I am adding a few photos of known people. Don’t connect the content of the post with the photos.

55. AN OLD STORY RETOLD ...

An Old Story:

The Ant works hard in the withering heat all summer building its house and laying up supplies for the winter. The Grasshopper thinks the Ant is a fool and laughs & dances & plays the summer away.
Come winter, the Ant is warm and well fed. The Grasshopper has no food or shelter so he dies out in the cold.


The following Indian version of the Old Story has been made by some sick mind and so it has to be corrected (உண்மைகள் அப்டின்னு ஒண்ணு இருக்குல்ல ) and retold:
(The “original’ is in blue colour and the corrections are in red)

Indian Version retold:

The Ant works hard in the withering heat all summer building its house and laying up supplies for the winter.(Long long ago .. so long ago .. the ants proclaimed from the tops of temples that they had come straight from gods’ some vital anatomical parts and hence they were more than normal humans; and prescribed that the destiny of all grasshoppers is only to serve the ants. They sapped all the fruits of grasshoppers’ labour and enriched themselves for millennia. The grasshoppers were forbidden from any type of learning for long by the ants… a real great strategy – to keep their work force in absolute ignorance. At the end of this story you will find the ants continuing this strategy still to this day!)

The Grasshopper thinks the Ant's a fool and laughs & dances & plays the summer away. (No, instead, for long the poor, illiterate and enslaved grasshoppers toil and suffer, never even knowing their rightful place as ‘human beings’ in this society. Such was the way the ‘mantra of ants’ worked on the lives of the grasshoppers.)

Come winter, (Some great souls like Ambedkar, Mahatma Jotirao Phule, Periyar ... appear on the scene and infuse some sense of decency and rebellious mood into the grasshoppers.) the shivering Grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the Ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while others are cold and starving.(The voice of grasshoppers is slowly getting noticed.)

NDTV, BBC, CNN show up (It should have been so different if these agencies do such a balanced act. But these agencies invariably run for and run by the ants project grasshoppers with least esteem. Who would forget the way these channels show cased the AIIMS issue? ) To provide pictures of the shivering Grasshopper next to a video of the Ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food. (அடப் பாவிகளா! ) The World is stunned by the sharp contrast. How can this be that this poor Grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?

Arundhati Roy stages a demonstration in front of the Ant's house.

Medha Patkar goes on a fast along with other Grasshoppers demanding that Grasshoppers be relocated to warmer climates during winter. ( They don’t spare even this lady! Anybody who cares for the downtrodden grasshoppers would become a laughing stock for these ants. Their only concern is their supremacy is never questioned and they always remain at the top of helm.)

Mayawati states this as `injustice' done on Minorities.

Amnesty International and Koffi Annan criticize the Indian Government for not upholding the fundamental rights of the Grasshopper.

The Internet is flooded with online petitions seeking support to the
Grasshopper (many promising Heaven and Everlasting Peace for prompt support as against the wrath of God for non-compliance.) (On the other hand grasshoppers have been always tutored that they can get ‘moksha’ only if they serve ants.)

Opposition MPs stage a walkout. Left parties call for 'Bengal Bandh' in West Bengal and Kerala demanding a Judicial Enquiry.
CPM in Kerala immediately passes a law preventing Ants from working hard in the heat so as to bring about equality of poverty among Ants and Grasshoppers.

Lalu Prasad allocates one free coach to Grasshoppers on all Indian Railway Trains, aptly named as the 'Grasshopper Rath'.

Finally, the Judicial Committee drafts the ' Prevention of Terrorism
Against Grasshoppers Act' [POTAGA], with effect from the beginning of the winter. (If such things really happened the fate of grasshoppers would have improved a lot by now. முழுப்பூசணிக்காயை இப்படி மறைப்பதற்கும் ஒரு திறமை வேண்டும். இந்தத் திறமை antsகளிடம்தான் கொட்டிக் கிடக்குதே..)

Arjun Singh makes 'Special Reservation ' for Grasshoppers in Educational Institutions & in Government Services. (அப்படி வாங்கப்பா antsகளா வாங்க .. இதுக்குத்தான் வருவீங்கன்னு தெரியுமே! This is what was said in the beginning – the ancient and very original strategy of ants to forbid the grasshoppers from any type of learning – is continuing to this day. When this scheme is threatened the ants feel that their ‘supremacy’ is at stake and rise as one against such proactive measures. நல்லா இருங்க’டே!)

The Ant is fined for failing to comply with POTAGA and having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, it’s home is confiscated by the Government and handed over to the Grasshopper in a ceremony covered by NDTV.(ஒரு புரட்சி வந்து இப்படி நடந்திருந்தா, வேணுகோபால் & Co.வை வீட்டுக்கு அனுப்பியிருக்கலாம். Ants strongly feel that the higher institutions are meant only for them, the chosen and ‘meritorious’ ones. )

Arundhati Roy calls it ' A Triumph of Justice'.

Lalu calls it 'Socialistic Justice '.

CPM calls it the ' Revolutionary Resurgence of the Downtrodden '

Koffi Annan invites the Grasshopper to address the UN General Assembly. (Ha! Didn’t the erstwhile B.J.P. government obstruct the issue of dalits to be taken to U.N.?)
Many years later... ( இப்படியெல்லாம் நடந்தா நல்லாத்தான் இருந்திருக்கும்; நடக்கலையே)
The Ant has since migrated to the US (you mean, deserter, preferring greener pastures? could be .. it is always said that they were afterall a nomadic group.)and set up a multi-billion dollar company in Silicon Valley,

100s of Grasshoppers still die of starvation despite reservation somewhere in India, (ha..ha… Hi dear ant! Have you not looked around you of late? It was true many ants migrated and became rich in the land of plenty. But of late the ants are outsmarted, outclassed and outnumbered by a variety of grasshoppers in that land proving that ants are in no way better than grasshoppers!! Why go for onshore examples? Even in our motherland it is being proved time and again. Any doubt? Better see this It is just the tip of the iceberg…It is not the end; not even the beginning of the end; but just the end of the beginning for things to come.)
AND
As a result of loosing lot of hard working Ants and feeding the
grasshoppers, (Is it not the other way round all these times?)
.
India is still a developing country…!!!(Sadly it is true .. majority are the grasshoppers… and still a great number of them are to be lifted up from the murky depths into which they were thrown; they are to be shown a new humane way of life as equal to any other human being .. a lot to be done. But the major stumbling block is the ant and its விஷமத்தனம், மேட்டிமைத்தனம், ஆங்காரம் etc..etc..)
But the days are not far off ……



you need to see this post of Dr. Bruno also: a reality .. A POOR GRASSHOPPER .. help her

54. AN OPEN LETTER

This open letter is meant to one Mr Eric in response to his article in Wall Street Journal.

SEE MY TAMIL POST ON THIS HERE.

Mr. Eric,
Happened to come to your article in WSJ - - from the columns of P.Sainath, the winner of the 2007 Ramon Magsaysay award for Journalism, Literature, and Creative Communication Arts in The Hindu dated 18.01.’08 -

It made an interesting read!

Just wanted to make few comments:

- From your title I understand that you say that the Brahmins WERE at least once the fortunate lot and that has reversed now.

- From the data in the table given by you and from the corrigendum to your article those ‘misfortunate’ lot are the RICHEST lot (65% and 50% respectively)

- I understand that for your case study you have taken a poor teacher from the RICHEST group.

- I request that you may consider to compare this poor teacher with another poor from the POOREST group, some one from the 91%. I am sure it would give some very interesting points for your future columns.

- Since your name sounds different I take it that you are from a different culture. If so, I would like to request you to first understand the ground realities before you make your valuable comments in a journal of any kind.

- There is a saying in my mother tongue, Tamil: “Some cry for sugar for their daily milk; while there are many who cry for salt for their sporadic gruel”. Your article was about an unfortunate from the former. Why not try to know somebody from the latter. Try. No harm.

53. MY EARLY SEX EDUCATION - 17

In our days we did not have as much worldly knowledge as the modern day kids have. I think every present day kid of eight years is exposed to much ‘sex’ than what an adolescent was exposed in our days, thanks to the media. In a way it is good to know proper things in a proper way.

I still remember how not only I but all guys of my age in those days never had any chance to know about ‘the secrets of sex’. There was no chance to see or to read or to hear anything about sex. It was all hush-hush thing among close friends. So it was mostly like the characters in the story of an elephant and four blind men. One blind leading another blind led only to more confusion. Especially puberty of girls was a great enigma for us. Talking about that brought goose pimples and we were thrilled to share our information with others. I got most of the gossip about sex from my rural friends, especially during my summer visits to my native village. Each one had his own theory about sex, puberty, menstruation, masturbation etc. We were totally a confused lot. This confusion made sex more and more a mystery and we had no chance to know about it. This made sex more enigmatic and mysterious and we always talked about these matters only with our very close friends. So naturally since we had our references from fellows of our own age, it was mostly like one blind leading another blind from one dark spot to another dark spot! We were very stupid. Hot discussion on the nature of genitals of the opposite sex happened often. There were times when we were not sure how a baby would come into this world. To make matters worse comparing a cow and a woman especially in the matter of their anatomy and mode of delivery was common. This state of affairs even continued to very late period of our adolescence. Such was our ignorance in those days!

I had a cousin. His father and my father were first cousins, and they had the very same name and worked in the same school. To avoid confusion people used to call my periyappa as senior so-and-so (periya ..) and my appa was known as junior so-and-so (chinna ..). Like our fathers we also had the same first name. He was just two years senior to me. But he played the role my ‘friend-philosopher-guide’. He was the one who was unraveling the mysteries of sex to me. His house was on my way to school and church, the two places around which my early life was revolving. So I used to go to his house on my way to school or church and then we would go together. He came out with so many newer things about anything and everything. I very submissively accepted all his ‘doctrines’. Never questioned them. Except the one time when he was explaining the ‘dirtiest thing’.


Whenever he came out with anything he used to always show an air of superiority which was quite right since I was too wet behind my ears for my age and what all he said were ‘scriptures’ to me. I never dared to question his statements. But one day on our way back from school he started giving me extraordinary information on sex. He told me with the same and usual air of superiority what a married man and wife would do in private to get a child. My God! It sounded so obscene and dirty that I thought there could not be an iota of truth in what he said. I said I did not believe what he said just then. He majestically told me that was the truth and nothing but truth. I kept silent for some time mulling over on what he said. I was simply flabbergasted by this unbelievable and dirty thing. For a few moments we were walking in silence.

Then I asked my cousin: “Then … er.. how about my father and mother?”

“Well, it has to be so”, he shot the answer without a moment of hesitation. He was very cool answering my question.

Few more moments of silence. I was still trying to digest what he had said. But I could not. A flash came and I asked him: “In that case, how about your father and mother?”

This time he took some moments. Hesitated a bit. But came out with an affirmative answer. But this time it was not as authoritative as it was for the previous question.

Still I could not believe it. Our own parents. This much dirty. Oh! No, I thought. I did not believe it and wanted to prove him utterly wrong.

My next question was very much pointed and poignant too. I asked him: “If it is so, is it the same way between Mother Mary and St. Joseph?”

He was thrown off balance by this question. Clean bowled. He was dumbfounded now. I was happy that I could at last nail him down to his utter lies. How could such a dirty act be true? Could any decent human being, leave alone the divine persons, do such nasty things?


I was waiting with batted breath for his answer. This time he did not have the guts to say yes.

52. DUAL WITH RAJA - 16

DUAL WITH RAJA

In our school the 'A' section of all the classes was meant for the 'creamy' layer, or for the so-called brighter students. I don’t know whether other schools also followed this. I was admitted in I Standard in A section. That would have been of course by virtue of my appa's influence. I think that streak continued till I finished my VI form in the high school. For those of this generation, in our days the schooling years were only 11 years - five in elementary and 6 in high school. In the former each level was called ‘Standard’ and the high school levels were called 'Forms'. So the school finishing class would be VI Form.

My V Standard teacher was Mr. Lucas, a very tall, lanky man with a smiling face. But his knuckles were very strong and every one of us dreaded his knuckles. He either used his knuckles or a thin striking – rod, a bamboo cane. His theory was thinner the cane pain it creates is greater. I got reprimanded only once with two strikes of that cane for a peculiar / funny situation. (I don’t think that incident can be narrated in a foreign language, since it is related to my mother tongue, Tamil. I have elaborated this incident in my Tamil blog. Now ...it is the 'dual' I had with one of my classmates. It was more like the two eternal cowboys with their guns drawn taking steps before they try to outshoot the other in their mortal combat!

Whenever Mr. Lucas wanted some lessons to be read to the whole class he always asked me to read the lessons. That was a sort of privilege I enjoyed for long. I don’t know whether I read it properly or was due to my appa's influence. None had any grudge for this, at least that was what we all thought till it was challenged one day. Raja was one of my classmates, considerably a bigger boy in our class. One day when our teacher asked me to read a lesson and when I was about to start Raja stood up and to all our shock and astonishment asked face to face our teacher why always it should be me. I think Mr.Lucas was taken aback and he was speechless for some time. Then he said that he did so since he thought I was good in that. But Raja did not lose his rebellious mood. He challenged that he could read better than me given a chance.

Mr. Lucas was speechless for some time. Then he said that he would set a 'dual' between me and him and gave the details of the modus operandi of how it should go. He suggested that both of us would stand on both the sides of his chair. Simultaneously he would pat our backs. For the first pat I would start reading from a lesson. Then after few sentences - another pat. Now I would stop and Raja would start from where I left. And it should go on like that. To make it more democratic my teacher said that there would be four 'judges'. They will be seated in the front bench with a score sheet. They would count mistakes, stammering etc. during our reading for each of us. Whoever had lesser score would be considered victorious.

Raja came out with another challenge. He wanted a bet for this dual. It was fixed that the bet money would be one anna . (That is 1/16 of a rupee then.) That was real "big" money in those days for a guy in elementary school. I who was so far listening as a silent observer more as an outsider came to the world of reality only then. I said I did not have the required money for the bet. There were immediate sponsors for me. I remember the names of them: Kathiresan and Vetrivel. They paid the money to our teacher. Raja paid his bet.

I remember how the whole class was in an expectant mood. I could clearly visualise even now what had happened more than a half century back. Our class alone had the luxury of being in a separate room, next to our Headmaster's Office while all other sections of V Class were in a common hall. Benches with back rest for all was a specialty for our class. The excuse given to other classes for this special treatment was that if and when school inspectors from the education department gave surprise visits, they could easily watch our V Class - A Section and so this special privilege for our class.

The dual started.

After certain time Mr. Lucas stopped the dual. The judges were asked to make a total of the minus points they had given us for our shortcomings during the 'dual'. I won the dual - that too, with a very 'handsome' margin. Raja immediately came to my side of our teacher's table and shook my hands. I did not know all those etiquettes. Our teacher gave one anna to me, the prize money and my sponsors got their money back.

In retrospect, what look great to me now are the rebellious spirit of Raja and the very fair mind of my teacher. I used to always wonder how could a boy aged just ten or eleven doing his fifth standard could be that much rebellious and dare to question the authority of the teacher. The second thing was the way our teacher settled the issue and also his conscience. How could he take a question on his authority with such magnanimity? He was so fair that he made some of our own class mates as judges. Both Raja and Mr. Lucas should have been great souls and I realized and experienced that at least with regard to Raja since he and I had maintained a life-long relationship. Till his death two years back, we occasionally met. If there were other friends during our meetings, Raja with all gusto would start narrating the whole episode. He never became tired of this since it looked as if he was waiting for a chance to narrate our old story to new friends. It was only he who remembered the names of my sponsors and told me after many years.

51. ELEMENTARY SCHOOL DAYS - 15

ELEMENTARY SCHOOL DAYS


I dont know how some of the very early happenings in our lives remain permanently etched in our minds. I already mentioned that I dont rememeber even a wee bit of things that happened when amma was around. Memories of childhood start only after amma's death. The life in Kasiapuram , and appa's wedding are all quite vivid. Immediately after appa's wedding with my new amma I came to Madurai. Then started the schooling. Appa was working in St. Mary's High School, a renowned school in the whole city in those days. I was admitted in St.Mary's Elementary School in the same campus.

I very clearly remember the very first day of my schooling. Appa took me in his bicycle. In the campus, the elementary school was a rectangular block at the back of the church. But there was a single block standing alone in between the main school buildings and the church. Probably it is as old as the curch itself. It was standing alone there. It was a high raised building with just one large class room and an adjacent small room. I dont know why that building alone was so constructed, so high above the ground level. There should have been at least 10-15 very wide steps leading to the class room. Appa took me by hand and led me into the class room. The teahcer was in all smiles and he showed a lot of respect to appa. Mu first class teacher's name was Mr. Manickam, a fair, young gentleman. He asked me where do I want to sit in the class room? Appa's influence helped me opt a seat of my preference! I chose the bench in the very first row - not that I wanted to be there as a good studious student as a front-bencher! In stead that was the only bench in the class with backrest! All other benches did not have a backrest. Anyway, that front bech with backrest was full. But still one of the poor poor guys in that bench - in all probabilities, whose father was not known to the teacher - was asked to go to one of the back rows and I was offered my preferred seat. That's how my first day of schooling started.

Not much is in memory about the rest of the next 5 years in that school, except two incidents. When I was doing my III standard in Madurai there was a big show of some Indian and foreign muscle men. Names of Tarasingh, who later became a famous cine star, and King Khong are just the names of two Indian muscle men I remember. There were some foreigners with names hard to pronounce. So they had some nick names, names that would attract the local wrestling fans. I remember only one such name, Red Scorpion. He visited our church one day and I remember most of us from our class with our teacher thronged around him as soon as he came out of the church. His visit made us talk about the wrestling matches and the different styles and prowess they had in wrestling. Somebody showed me one of the famous ‘monkey-hold’ of these wrestlers and also the way to wriggle out of it. I had a friend. I vaguely remember that his name was Sivakumar. He used to be shorter than me, though I myself was one of the ‘shorties’ in my classes. I gave a demo as to how to hold that monkey-hold. Poor guy, he did not know the defense for that. So he was totally under my control when I held him so. He was surprised. Then I asked to him to hold me like that. He did. But now I used the trick which was taught to me and overthrew him over my head. Fellow fell flat on the ground and started weeping. I thought the matter was over with that.

But the very next day his mother, a teacher herself, came to our class and met me. She made me feel sad for what I did to her son. I was worried that she may take the matter to my teacher and then to my app a . But she left me with that little reprimand. But Sivakumar who was so far close to me never talked to me after that.

One more incident is also one another unforgettable incident. And since it needs little more importance I plan to save that for the next chapter!

50. MAKING OF A SMOKER & A FILM BUFF - 14.

MAKING OF A SMOKER & A FILM BUFF

Two great changes happened in my life due to these hours of freedom. One was the old desire rejuvenating and getting deep rooted into a new habit. I mean the old and unflinching desire for smoking. These hours of freedom and the gang that was formed during this time was handy. I started where I left unmindful of the promise I made in my native place years ago. If it was inside a well or a thoppu in those early years that I tried my hand in smoking, this time we had ‘royal connections’. The Thirumalai Naik Palace was very near to our school. In those days it used to be busy since the court was functioning there and people used to throng the whole place. The terrace of the Palace also was free for visitors. Only many years later the courts were moved to a different place and the palace was taken by the archaeology department. Till that time this became a nice hideout for fellows like me to have our first lessons in smoking. The terrace of the Palace was so expansive we had no fear of being caught by anyone known to us or to our parents. As days went by we became more and more 'courageous' that we changed our venue to more and more open places. It was thus I got hooked to cigarette smoking and that continued till 11 p.m. of January 6th, 1990 which started in the early sixties.

The other change that happened also became a habit of lifetime. In those days, I would not be allowed to go for any movies other than the sporadic ones with the family. Now there was ample chance to go for movies without parental knowledge. I still remember the very first movie that I went like that. It was Norman Wisdom’s On The Beat. He was a famous British comedian of those days whom our famous and successful comedian Nagesh could have had as a role model. I mustered courage as well as gathered money for the ticket and one day sneaked out to the film. It was so funny that I burst into laughter when I was having my supper with appa. I was doing my first year B.Sc. then. Appa asked what the matter was. I managed to tell him some cock and bull story. The movie was so good that I became a regular visitor to Regal Theatre, an exclusive theatre for English movies in those days. I became, in short, an English movie buff. The timing of these English movies was also so conducive that one could go to the movies without raising any doubt for the people at home. Unlike the Tamil movies, these English movies would start quite late and would end very soon. So I could start very late from home and reach the theatre in time cycling at the fastest pace and also come back even at 8.30. Tamil movies would end only by 9.30. Only precaution that I had to very carefully do every time was to discard the counterfoil of the ticket without leaving any telltale evidences to my watchful appa. With such preplanning and meticulous operation this habit also grew and became a lifetime passion. Now I realize that of the two changes I acquired due to and during my hours of freedom, at least one habit did some good to me.

49. I SALUTE MADURAI A.C. (TRAFFIC)

It was during one of my rides on our Madurai roads in a late evening, I happened to witness a road accident involving a young couple and their few month old baby. They were just passing me on my right side when their vehicle hit the so-called 'median' on the road, which was hardly above the ground level. The median was also barely visible since there was no bright street light and any bright lights of vehicles coming in the opposite direction could have made the visibility all the more hard. Luckily the mother held her baby close to her and saved from any mishap. The couple had some minor bruises.

I left the place of accident not knowing who is to be blamed for this: the corporation, the police, or whole government machinery for the poor condition of the road and the median at that busy road junction.

When I was crossing the same spot after a day or two I saw some police official standing in that junction. I went and told him of the accident and the reason for it. Surprisingly he showed real concern and asked me what could be an immediate solution. I suggested at least for the time being a "traffic-drum" at the spot to show the road divide. He immediately called a cop and ordered him to get and place a "traffic-drum" within the next hour.

To my surprise on the very next day when I crossed that spot there was a "traffic-drum" and within the next two or three days there was some more modification which made that spot quite safer now. I was so happy that a police officer has shown so much care and concern.

Then, after a fortnight,I felt a new traffic island on the road (near Fatima College) I regularly commute had a problem. I talked about that to the cop (Mr. Kumar) standing there. He promised that he would send the phone number of Asst. Commissioner for traffic through the cop who would be on duty the next day. Next day the duty cop (Mr. Abu Bukker) gave me the number. Both these two cops were also very obliging and understood and accepted what I said.

I rang up the number and experienced joyous surprises one after another. I thought some lower level police man may attend the phone and would give me some evasive answer. But it is not so. It was the A.C. himself ( I came to know the name of the A.C. from Mr. Kumar and Mr. Abu Bukker: Mr. Sivanandan) who took the call. I asked him whether he could spare a few minutes. He readily obliged. I told him the problem. He asked few questions and more explanations. He very politely explained to me the plans they have already charted out for that traffic island and told me very earnestly that he would remember the problem that I talked about and would do the needful.

I am not yet sure whether both these officers are one and the same or not. However, it was a great surprise for me since in both the instances I got a very pleasant and utmost courteous responses and in both the instances I saw immediate action too.

I record my sincere appreciation for the person(s) concerned. It has made me feel so happy and hopeful of a bright future for our nation with such officers. I wish more and more bureaucrats of this sort come and save our country from its present rut.

48. I STUDIED SO HARD(LY) ! - 13

I STUDIED SO HARD(LY)!

Always there was magic between my textbooks and sleep. As soon as I took a textbook in my hands immediately the goddess of sleep would lovingly embrace me. Till I finished my studies I had this disease ! So I took to outdoors for my night study to overcome this problem. Till late evenings, say, up to 9 o’clock in the night our school campus became my study place after I joined college. This campus became part of my life since appa worked there and I had my whole school life there. And not only that, we had the church, the big cathedral and I was a regular church goer in those days. Till I reached my middle forties I preferred to attend services there for festivals like Christmas and Easter. The campus had been an inseparable part of my life and this attachment made me have my first grandson’s baptism there in that church.

The other place, which was my study-spot, was under the streetlights of our road. During nights, especially after 10 o’clock, a group of five or six of us, all from different schools but neighbors used to come together under the streetlights. The favorable spot for all of us was a corner building, which housed the local post office. There were two advantages. It had a brighter mercury light since it was a sort of road junction and the other one was a overhead shed which could protect us on cold wintry or rainy days. Studying under the streetlights had its own advantage. Since we were always in groups one cannot so easily sleep but we had so many things to share – secrets of teenagers. The hours we spent on roads to study were much less than what we spent to share our little secrets, adventures and escapades. Though our group had around six or seven fellows only two from the group came up to post-graduate level and the rest either just passed their higher secondary exam or flopped even in that. I would be so fresh when I was with this group and once I got into the terrace of our home to continue the studies, within no time the unconquerable goddess of sleep would embrace me.

My other study center was the St. Mary’s School-Church campus. I was almost a campus-kid since all my childhood and adolescent days were revolving around the church and campus. In those days there used to be two services everyday, the first as early as five in the morning and the other at 6 o’clock. Appa and amma used to get up at 4.30 and they would go to the first service. They would wake me up before leaving to the service. Amma would come back from the church. I would be then going for the second service. For many years we used to get our daily milk from the farm in the campus and so immediately after the service I should get the milk and rush back home. The farm was closed after some years and so I was relieved from that duty. When I reached the last two years of my schooling I stayed back after the service in the campus. The excuse was that I could study for an hour or two before going home. The school provided a room to study in the evening for some day scholars who did not have good facilities at home. This facility was extended to me even after I joined the college as I was the son of a popular teacher. So some hours in the morning and evening became hours of freedom for me. The strict discipline maintained at home would be missing and I was the master to myself in these hours. These were the hours of total freedom for me. I enjoyed these hours to the hilt.

47. THE HOUSE WE LIVED IN FOR LONG - 12

THE HOUSE WE LIVED IN FOR LONG

Once appa got married, life changed a lot. Days of pampering and petting were over. Life took a different turn. I was so far a pet to everyone in the village. Everyone looked at me with utmost sympathy and special care and love were showered on me. I was a 'motherless-child' for every one. I stood out from the crowd in the village. All these things changed once we came to Madurai.

It should be 1949. I should have been five years old because immediately after our arrival I was admitted in the school in the first standard. Better I say something about the house where we got settled. It was an old house in the South Marret Street. Compared to the modern standards it was more a ‘mouse trap’. It was in a busy area and so like any other house it was packed among a row of houses on a considerably busy road. It was a rectangle and the portion we rented out was at the back of the house and the house owners lived in the front portion. The two portions were divided by a well. Like any old house of those days in Madurai this well was small, probably three feet in diameter. It was called nazhi kinaru ( 'cylindrical well' ). I don’t know what could have been the depth. But for a kid it looked very deep. For some time peeping into the well during noon time and seeing my image deep down there was a good past time. I was always afraid of looking into the well from outside in our village till I learnt swimming. But here there were protective stone slabs around the well and they were almost shoulder high to me then. I felt safe here unlike the large and open wells, which were like open-mouthed giants. This well had an important association with my early days since for many years – almost for the whole of my school life – I was in charge of keeping a large drum near the well always full for the use of the whole family. I used to have a big callus on my left knee since I used to keep that point of my knee as a fulcrum to help me pull the bucket and how I hated that responsibility imposed on me. Even at odd hours I would be asked to draw water. That is about the well. Let us come back to the house now.

I still wonder how we managed to live in that house for so long. It was a long period of 16 years – starting from my school entry to the end of the first year of my post-graduation. We entered the house as a three-member family, appa, amma and I. When we quit the house we were, I think, nine! There was only one pucca room and even that would be half-filled with sacks of rice for most part of the year, in addition to a wooden almirah, a sewing machine and a table and chair. I am wondering now how there was any moving space at all in that room since it was not even a big room. Wooden lofts on three sides of this room probably helped us keep most of our things. I had one rack in a cupboard on the wall for keeping my books and other things. My dresses would be in a small suitcase, which would be above the sacks of rice.

Then there was a sort of verandah with tiled leaky roof making it almost unusable during rainy days. The only safe place during such days was a corner made safe by curved stairs overhead. Even part of this was occupied by a manual grinder. The only furniture in this low roofed room was appa’s cot. Many a time that formed a tier system – appa on that cot and I safely cuddled under that, the lower berth! Then there was a kitchen. Don’t imagine a kitchen with a lot of cupboards, gas stove and all that. It had on all sides bamboo mats making it a separate entity with one cupboard on the wall and a firewood stove at the ground level with a stack of fire wood, and cow dung-cakes on one corner. We had also a luxury item of those days, a kerosene stove.

Wondering that I have not mentioned anything about a bathroom? Well, it was an open space next to the well and that was also the passageway for our portion. Appa made some arrangements with some more bamboo mats giving it a little more privacy. This passageway along the well had a great significance since it was a nightmarish experience to get somebody to our portion of the house. The passageway was narrow between the well and a wall. Part next to the well had a stony pavement but the other half used to be quite slippery with constant flow of water. Anyone stepping on that part was sure to fall like an uprooted tree. Whenever somebody visited our home for the first time they had to be carefully ushered for a ‘safe landing’ on our portion of the house. Once I got into college I never invited my classmates to my home worrying about the great fall they could experience.

There was one good thing about this house that it had an open terrace. It had half-built pillars. I was told that the owner wanted to go for another floor and paucity of funds deterred him from that and half-finished pillars stood as a silent testimony for that. Appa made a shed there with some bamboos and coconut-mats. This became a comfortable place for the students who used to come in large numbers for private tuition. Appa was a great and popular teacher in English and Math in our school. Till this day I consider him as the best teacher I had, especially his way of teaching English grammar was fantastic. It is not merely a son’s blind appreciation. But a real, impartial and judicious statement which I hold till this day.

The terrace became my living place once I got the courage to be there alone in the nights too. Because always the very big banyan tree on the next road with its rustling noise at nights could scare any week hearted person. Added to this was the story of somebody who committed suicide on the very next house. The room where the suicide took place was within a few feet. The stairs running down from this terrace was mostly very dark, who had very bright lights on those days! So whenever I alighted the steps at nights after switching off the only light at the terrace, I used to have a feeling that somebody, mostly the person who committed suicide in the next house, following or rather chasing me down. I used to run down faster in the beginning. Then I thought I should have a ‘face-to-face’ fight with this ‘follower’ once for all and do away with ‘him’ for all times. So with this decision I stopped running madly down from the terrace; instead I used to step down very slowly and at times would stop and turn around to warn anything that could be at my back. Once I did this a few times the fear was gone for ever and then staying alone in the terrace became routine and casual. Once I entered into my teens it became my abode for the nights. It was also my study room.