Inspiring for Life

My personal inspirations are my parents. Yes, I know it's a bit cliche, but their voices have been in my head for my entire life.

I grew up with an older dad and one with a very unique history. He was atleast 38 years old when I was born in 1985. He was born in 1947 and graduated with an MBBS from The Calicut Medical College in 1973, 11th batch - Calicut Medical College as the Aluminis mention.

His formative career years, and the years that would form his perspective about the world, started that year working in Kurumbalangodu - a small village in the already undeveloped district of Malappuram in Kerala. I have heard that the village had no paved roads - forget electricity and Health Engineering. With no connectivity to the outside world, no dear and near familiar faces in this place, Dad used to walk for miles to meet his patients and help those who were in need of  his gifted hands. People used to bang doors and windows well past midnight to request his presence to treat a snake bite or to revive an elderly who had a heart attack or to certify a death. And he used to accompany them with his physician's case, stethoscope and manometer without a slight change of expression or a word of protest. He still remains true to his Hippocratic Oath and I am very sure that at 65 years of age, he can still pledge it without skipping a beat. I heard from one of Dad's proteges that after he was transferred from Kurumbalangodu, the villagers never had another Doctor who stayed there and delivered their services. Later on, the government declared a privilege to doctors who did rural service towards the admissions for various PG courses and then every one wanted to serve the villagers there. Villagers still suffered, but "punches and lunches" became regular in the Public Health Center.   

Here, 40 years later, his son lives in a world where connectivity is limitless. People may survive a few minutes without oxygen, but deny them connectivity and they will soon drop down dead. 18 year old kids on scooterettes have their one arm on the handle and other on the phone held close their ears. I wonder what may happen if they take a break from the road to attend that call.

His early career experience was watching the villagers suffer in the delicate financial system of India from the front seat and these years developed his views of how to live - with a focus on austerity.

"A penny saved is a penny earned"

"Waste not, want not"

"Neither a borrower nor lender be"

"A little knowledge is a dangerous thing"

His messages to me of savings, thoughtfulness, conservatism, and preparing for the worst influenced me greatly.

Well, ask me if I am able to adhere to any of these, I might just giggle and scratch my head. 

Yeah... Dad, Mom... I have you guys! 

Growing up with my father, a history book with front line views of so many foundational periods of the Indian Economy and it's history in the 20th century translated to me in constant lectures on hard work, saving, austerity, and more.

My mom, on the other hand, was  a "traditional" mom of that period, staying home and raising my sister and me. Her story is quite different. She was an active Socialite. Her life was about giving, making connections, being a friend to many, being by-stander in a hospital emergency to any of our countless relatives.

The pair - a gentle hard working doctor, and stern father, and a pioneering and creative mother - taught me how to live my life. Here are a few of my lessons that sum this up:

Save for the future

Work hard

Take measured risks in your career

Enjoy life

Help others less advantaged

Survive any change

Question authority

Nothing can sum up anyone's parents, but I first endowed inspiration from these two. Lessons from my parents live on in my life.

Things that money can't buy...

I happened to remember a credit card company's tagline today.

"There are some things money can't buy. For everything else, there's MasterCard"

And I'm gonna tell you how I happened to remember this old tagline. 

On a regular weekend, I called up couple of my bachelor colleagues, who would normally have no exciting plans. With no girlfriends to take for shopping or movies, they were always happy to accompany me to any of my crazy expeditions - say a photography trip or a really stupid 3D animation movie. I had plans and they were there for the moral support that I needed. I still remember this one time when I was busy taking photographs for close to 3 hours and they were bored to death after throwing a 100 flat stones to the nearby lake to kill time. Guys, I love you both for bearing with me on all these trips!!

So, coming back to our story. This time I had plans to watch a movie by an aspiring Bollywood startlet who was backed by generations of superstars. It advertised the hero having a 'devil may care attitude' know what, the tagline of the movie got me completely hooked and I wanted to watch it on the opening weekend itself.

So, off we went. Hungry and famished by the time we reached the shopping mall which housed the multiplex, we stepped into the food court to have some food. We were welcomed with stale food which had stayed in the deep freezer for months and were charged exorbitant rates after feeding us half tummy. I thought, the water that Mommy throws away after washing fresh chicken would be tastier than what the food court served us...

Now, the movie began. Almost three hours of watching the hero go through an existential crisis in both life and love. It gave us the valuable message that life can pass you by, if you don’t stop to savor the moments. If this was the first ever Bollywood movie I was watching, I would have definitely enjoyed it. Sadly, I have seen this idea couched in the template of a dozen love stories which I can list out with my eyes closed.

The movie lasted too long, at least by a good 20 minutes and later, tired and wired after 3 hrs of straining eyes, we stepped out of the theater. So, my colleague wanted to buy a goggle. 30 minutes of coaxing and persuation, he bought a Ray-Ban itself. Again, god bless Mastercard.

Next stop - Lifestyle Brandstore. I went in empty handed, stepped out with three brand new linen shirts. Why? - there was an offer - buy 2 and get 1 free. I dug in through the whole shelf and the guy who had more than enough shirts in his wardrobe added another 3 shirts to his collection. And as a result, I owe the bank another 5000 of hard earned Indian currency. Any ways, thank you again mastercard. :-)

So, thats how it works. I was very happy. The shirts were looking good in the mirror and on my way back, I was already sketching me in 3 different shades of Linen in different occassions. So, chalte chalte, we reached a signal where I stopped behind an elderly gentleman on a Hercules Bi-cycle. Close to 70 years of age, he looked impeccably healthy for his age. I exclaimed to my colleague - "See that guy on the bicycle. See how healthy he is. May be even we too should start cycling." He gave me a look and then he sadly looked down at his ever growing Pot-Belly a.k.a beer belly. He said "Its too hot out here in Nagpur for cycling. What do you think?". Completing the sentence, he increased and adjusted the climate control again to fight the scotching heat.

Then came a crowd of small kids in torn and soiled clothes asking for alms. They were requesting alms knocking on every closed window tapping and making soiled finger prints with their small hands. Like every other average Indian, I pretended not to see them, looking here and there, adjusting volume on the audio system, wiping dust from the never before wiped dash board and all. A little girl with a small baby in her arms came to my window. She was around 6 years of age and had a 6 month old baby in her arms. The baby was crying with all the life left in it and I was like left thinking whether to pull out my wallet which may have had some 10s or 20s rolled in some unused compartment. Like all guys of my age, I too had lost the habit of carrying bills in my wallet. Bills were meant only to pay the 'Tapri Walah' for an occassional 'chai' or 'Poha'. For the remaining necessities, we had mastercard! Simple logic and pretty straight too, isnt't it?

I sat there, frozen in time. I was unsure whether I had anything left in my wallet to give the little girl. I looked at her face. My palms were already sweaty and losing grip over the steering wheel. If I pulled out my wallet, I would be giving hope to the little one and the crying baby. And in case if my wallet turned out to be empty, I was not man enough to see the expression on the kid's face. She was wearing a torn 'Baniyan'. It looked so soiled with small holes all over it. I though about home. Her outfit or the rag that covered her body wouldn't even find a way to my Mom's kitchen where rolled paper towels and faded turkish towels are being used to facilitate all the tidying up activity. As I sat there, looking totally lost and ashamed with a bowed down head, with my eyes fixed on the Suzuki Logo on the steering wheel, I felt the girl was moving on to the gentleman on the bi-cycle. He didn't look like a rich guy or even like an average office going Indian. Though he wore clean clothes, I could notice they were pretty worn and his collar and cuffs were already showing its age looking all fluffy wherever it made contact with skin. His sandals were razor thin after all the steps it had taken. He called the girl to him and with one hand still on the handle he reached his shaky hands to move the cloth covering the baby's face. He looked at its face, touched its cheek and gave a smile. He reached  his shirt pocket and took a couple of currency notes and handed over to the child and advised her to feed the baby with something. 

The girl was grinning ear to ear showing her missing front teeth. She now wanted some more money. The gentleman smiled and reached again to his shirt pocket and gave her some more. He shot a smile again and the signal was green by then. The gentleman pedalled off at his own pace without another glance. My chin was touching my chest with shame by then. And then I saw one more sight. In came the kid's mother and took all the money the gentleman gave and slid in to her sweaty jacket. Wherever the money went or whatever was done with it, the gentleman has moved on with his life with a satisfaction of doing a good deed. A little happiness, a feel good moment - something no mastercard can ever buy. 

I shifted position uncomfortably in the seat of my climate controlled car - my swollen wallet in the back pocket adding to the woes. And I had 3 mastercards stacked one above the other in my wallet. Yes, there are some things that money can't buy, for everything else, there is mastercard and at times, none of these can buy you what you want.

Any ways, I decided, now on, I'd keep some money in my wallet, because, every time, a mastercard can't come to my help.

Siblings..!!

GIVEN what a mouthy thing I grew up to be, it’s shocking when I tell anyone that I began talking later than most children do. But I didn’t need words. I had my older sister, whom I call Oppol. For those who are unfamiliar with the customs, traditions and beliefs in India, here its mandatory to give respect to elders while addressing them or talking to them by adding some suffix to indicate their seniority. In Hindi, we usually add 'bhaiyya' or 'deedi'. In malayalam, we suffix 'chettan' or 'chechi' to their names. My dad had only one sister and he used to call her 'Oppol'. This term is heard only in particular areas of kerala and Its a very old way of summoning one's sister. Digging dictionaries, one may be able to find what it means: "The one born together". I have to say, the term still carries a lot of old world charm with it. I was made to call my Sister as 'Oppol' even before the time I can remember.

The way my mother always recounted it, I’d squirm, pout, mewl, bawl or indicate my displeasure in some comparably articulate way, and before she could press me on what I wanted and perhaps coax actual language from me, Oppol would rush in to solve the riddle.

“His blanket,” she’d say, and she’d be right.

“Another cookie,” she’d say, and she’d be even righter.

From the tenor of my sob or the twitch of one of my fat little fingers, Oppol knew which chair I wanted to sit on, which toy I was ogling. She decoded the signs and procured the goods. Only 5 years older, she was my psychic and my spokesman, my shaman and my Sherpa. With Oppol around, I was safe.

Now, the mother of an incredibly naughty and noisy girl child, I am pretty sure she wouldn't have any issue understanding what the kid wants. 

We marched (or, rather, crawled and toddled) into this crazy world together, and though we had no say in that, it’s by our own volition and determination that we march together still. Among my many blessings, this is the one I’d put at the top.

Three weeks ago, the calendar decreed that we pause to celebrate mothers, as it does every year. Three weeks hence, fathers get their due. But as I await my flight to meet my parents in a quick land and take off arrangement at Trivandrum on a Father's day, my thoughts turn to siblings, who don’t have a special day but arguably have an even more special meaning to, and influence on, those of us privileged to have them.

“Siblings are the only relatives, and perhaps the only people you’ll ever know, who are with you through the entire arc of your life,” the writer Jeffrey Kluger observed to Salon in 2011, the year his book “The Sibling Effect” was published. “Your parents leave you too soon and your kids and spouse come along late, but your siblings know you when you are in your most inchoate form.”

Of course the “entire arc” part of Kluger’s comments assumes that untimely death doesn’t enter the picture, and that acrimony, geography or mundane laziness doesn’t pull brothers and sisters apart, to a point where they’re no longer primary witnesses to one another’s lives, no longer fellow passengers, just onetime housemates with common heritages.

That happens all too easily, and whenever I ponder why it didn’t happen with Oppol and me — both of us so different from each other — I’m convinced that family closeness isn’t a happy accident, a fortuitously smooth blend of personalities.

IT’S a resolve, a priority made and obeyed. Oppol and her Husband could spend their yearly leave of around 45 days embarking on a voyage or a joyride rather than visit home town in this busy world. But they travel all the way from where they work - in another continent, in another time zone - every year, just to be together. We made a decision to be together, and it’s the accretion of such decisions across time that has given us so many overlapping memories, which are in turn, our glue.

I’m also convinced that having numerous siblings helps. If you’re let down by one, you can let off steam with another. There’s always someone else to turn to. This is from my own experience of watching my Mom deal with her 10 siblings. There are always gangs or herds within this herd which are attached among themselves than with the others in the herd.

It’s like a treasure chest: you have access to a lot of different personalities, Mom told me. “With my brothers and sisters, I turn to them all. But I turn to them for different things.” That’s how it is in our brood, too.

Perhaps because the two of us belong to the same generation — just over 5 years  separate me and Oppol — each understands the other better than our mother could ever understand us, or than our father ever will. And while our parents gave us values, we inadvertently assigned ourselves the roles we play. Popularity came more easily to Oppol being the more obedient and controllable, so I resolved to be the more diligent student, needing to find my own way to stand out. Because Oppol and I made relatively conventional choices, Mom and Dad were always happy to compare us to each other for the things we were not so popular about.

That’s how it goes in a pack of siblings, and I sometimes wonder, when it comes to the decline in fertility rates in our country and others, whether the economic impact will be any more significant than the intimate one. For better or worse, fewer people will know the challenges and comforts of a sprawling clan.

Those comforts are manifold, at least in my lucky experience. With siblings to help shoulder the burden of your parents’ dreams and expectations, you can flail on a particular front with lower stakes and maybe even less notice. Siblings not only pick up the slack but also act as decoys, providing crucial distraction.

They’re less tailored fits than friends are. But in a family that’s succeeded at closeness, they’re more natural, better harbors. As far as I have observed in case of my Oppol, she isn't a person I would have likely made an effort to know or spend time with if I'd met her at school, say, or at work. And yet a reunion with her thrills me more than a reunion with friends, who don’t make me feel that I'm, “a part of a larger quilt”. My sister does.

With a friend, I have to be more articulate. With my sister, I can be my most primal self: inarticulate, childishly emotional. I’ll have a fight with my sister and say, ‘O.K., I know we’re in a fight, but I need your advice on something,’ and we can just put the fight on hold. They’re the only people in the world you can be your worst self with and they’ll still accept you.”

My sibling has certainly seen me at my worst, and I’ve seen her at her's. No one has bolted. It’s as if we signed some contract long ago, before we were even aware of what we were getting into, and over time gained the wisdom to see that we hadn’t been duped. We’d been graced: with a center of gravity; with an audience that never averts its gaze and doesn’t stint on applause. For both of us, a new home, a new relationship or a newborn was never quite real until the other has been ushered in to the front row.

This vacation, when she comes home, I have to decode what she wants. It won’t be difficult. I have decades of history to draw from, along with an instinct I can’t even explain.

Relationship Status!!

From the time I can remember, I've always heard my parents advise both of us - Myself and my sister - Never do anything that will not befit our family. I never understood what they meant, atleast till reached my sophomore year. I always thought they were mentioning to not becoming a criminal or a drug monger. I understood what they were telling when I was sent to college. They were expecting me to stay away from stray relationships and emotional baggage (in their POV). 

Yes, they always wanted me to marry the girl they select for me. Ofcourse, that was how my parents got married and their parents and their grand parents. I doubt that in the earlier generations whether the bride and groom saw each other even on the day of the marriage!! This is the Indian way of getting married!! OK, let me explain the whole process for those who are not familiar with the customs followed in India. The parents will invite matches for their boy when he reaches the right age. They will 'hunt' for girls in marriage functions, in their neighbor's family circle and in every kind of functions or get-togethers that you can imagine. Then comes the turn for matching the planetary positions with the so called astrologers. I still dont understand how the planets and stars which have been part of the universe even before man kind came into existance can influence our lives? After all these, the deal is signed and they prepare for the marriage. I still can't understand how the elders can make a selection and decide for the bride and groom, with whom they will spend the rest of their lives with. Strange are the ways, ain't it?

But the tides have changed! A lot! Now my parents reached a point of open mindedness where they will accept any girl with whom I am in love with. I know, its a privilege to have such an irresistible offer from one's parents because I live in a country where cases of honour killing are still reported all the year round. But guess what, with the advise I recieved from my early childhood, I made only good friends with the people around me, I never fell in love or entered into a serious relationship. Yeah...i see the rising eye brows, but folks, this thing called love cannot be one sided right? :-) I bid adew to my last serious relationship 3 years ago and after that, I never had time for 'emotional baggage' since!!

Through out my long and illustrious educational tenure I met a lot of people who were into relationships, who wanted to be in a relationship very badly and I have also seen a third crowd who wanted to get rid of the relationships they are in to . 

To day let me share my experiences with close friends of mine who have been in relationships. The first guy - lets call him Tom. Tom became really close with a girl in our class and reached a point where they could not keep away from their cell phones and talking to each other even for a single day. Guys, I'm talking about hours of Airtime here...HOURS!! Yes, they spent endless hours on the phone, chatting about topics unknown to us. I always wondered, what do they have to talk about so much? May be, they are discussing about the different types of tooth pastes available in the market, how one is superior in effectiveness when compared to another... or may be hibiscus shampoo or even why Al Gore never made it to the white house!! It was only later that I realized, we, the room mates, class mates and all the people around were all discussed about, evaluated, scrutinized, stripped naked and discussed to the most minute detail. By the end of the year I knew it solidly in my mind that she knew even what brand of underwear that I use!! Gross!! I still remember the day he broke news to two of us, that he was in love with that girl. He told sadly, " Her father is a Hitler!! He'll never let us get married!!".

I thought to myself, "Gimme a break, pal!! You are in a half mind to enter into a relationship and you are thinking about marriage?? If you are in a relationship" I knew it deep in my mind, they had gone much deeper than that, deeper than my peanut sized brain can ever imagine. I asked him bluntly, "how many kids does she say she can have?" In a moment of stupidity, he said, "We are planning for 2!".

Jesus. H. Christ!!

Anyway, as good friends we inspired him to enter into that relation and they lived happily ever after....Nah Nah nah, my friends, they were in that relation till the end of college days. Dont know what happened, they went in separate ways after college. Tom called me for his engagement party (ofcourse, with a different girl) and all, which I happily promised to attend and as usual failed to turn in. 

Our second character of the day, Dick as we can call him, used to fall in love with every girl he met. I met him as a part of meeting a friend's friend's friend or so, as it happens often when you work in a far away city from home with no relatives to keep an eye on you. But the frequencies were getting along very well and we used to sit, chat and part once in a while even though both of us had hectic schedules back then. After all, nothing beats a real conversation face to face. An absolute fitness freak from his teenage, he had the looks of a Bollywood Hero, with 17 inch biceps and a chiseled body to match with. And guess what our favorite past time when he was around? Getting him drunk and making him cry with all his love stories!! We used to record all these conversations and listen to them when our senses came back to normal. It was as funny as watching the bear in the circus ring do cycling... Flexing all the muscles in his body to sob and wipe tears!! Looking back, I feel bad about using him for our entertainment..., well, we still tease him to the core telling all those stories!! Gee...!!

I have heard a theory about Men. There are two types of men in the world - One kind of crowd that men envy at and the other that women envy. I guess Dick belonged to the 1st category, All of us guys used to envy him for his looks but women never really liked him!!

And that leaves us with Harry. Harry is the coolest dude of the lot. He has got the style, well read and well dressed at all times. Girls loved the way he maintained his mustache,  the way he talked and the way in which he could discuss about current affairs for hours together without getting a single fact wrong!! Harry was my room mate for 3 years in college and his thoughts and views without any doubt influenced me a lot.

I had soft corner to a lot of girls in my college and i used to discuss with Harry - "Ain't she looking cute, dude?" He used to give me that silly look and say - "you think she is cute? She is the ugliest piece of crap I have ever seen. Look at her, I feel like slapping her with all my four limbs!!"

"Yeah, He is right. She is not that pretty", I used to think and continue with my day to day life.

Years passed, All of us graduated and entered the rat race for survival. One fine morning, Harry called me up and told me, "I am in love. I think I've found the ONE!.

I nearly fainted with shock. In the entire 3 years we spent together, I have never heard Harry say something good about a girl. An now, he claimed he was in love. I sat silently for a minute and then I couldn't stop my laughter for the next 10 minutes. And guess what, I shared the good news with few of my friends and I was laughed at and mocked terribly!! I won't blame anybody, that was Harry and his voyage from being the woman eater to the womanizer!! It so happened that Harry managed to convince both the families and they are getting married in a week. And now, this time I got no excuses. I am attending this marriage and as I booked my tickets today, i couldn't help remember those good old days and smile silently. 

In my highschool, I had 120 classmates. I was friends with them once, but I can't say that all of them are still my friends. I spend 12 years sitting with them in the same classroom and shared many a meal, sweat, gossip and event together, but despite the 12 years, apart from a very few, I don't think none are my friends today. Acquaintances, that is the best I can label them. 

Almost every one of them might have got married, but I dont remember attending any of their marriages. I don't remember because, I have never been to any of those marriages. Same with my 100 classmates in graduation. I dont remember most of the names even though its been just a few years after college. I think I have attended 1 marriage, since it happened soon after college.

Neverthless, I stayed single, not getting into any relation as my parents had wished. Thanks to Harry and his view points and opinions. Any way, as my parents are busy looking for matches, I am still enjoying whats left of my bachelor life as a free spirit, flying high and free like a kite without string, Living it king size.

A phone call that flipped the world around!!

Its been three long years at the college.....We ...the back benchers were getting increasingly bored in the classes.... Attendance in classes were hitting an all time low... But it was very late when we realised that even the front benchers were hopping out from the classes after us.... All the slompy teachers who took classes with feeble voices and terrible vocabularies were provoked when the number of students who attended classes shrank to about 10!! Alarm bells rang in the staffrooms and all of a sudden the students of final year electrical engg beacame notorious all over the college....

All the juniors looked at us with awe...admiration...jealousy and all other divine feelings....

Myself and my room mate Vineeth took pride in calmly having a hot coffee over the newspaper, still clad in a lungi or tiny little Boxer shorts when all the other students were rushing for the classes.... (Yes, my dear friends from the north of India, this is the actual lungi with colorful stripes, spots and stars!! In our land, dhothi is spotlessly white or a creamy white with a nice border either in solid color or golden color or both together. I am a pure bred Malayalee, also comically called as Mallu elsewhere in the world. Mallu is an internet slang used to refer to people from the state of Kerala. Malayalam is the official language of the state of Kerala. Speakers of the Malayalam language are referred to as Malayalis. The term Malayali was shortened to "Mallu" for ease of typing and brevity of speech. And Kerala is a state located in the south-west region of India on the Malabar coast.) 

Then....one fine morning.......

Disaster stuck.....!!

There was a pretty big notice put up in our class room that fine morning..... It urged all the students to bring their parents to meet the HOD the following week failing which the access to classes to the next semester would be denied... And know what....the funniest part is that....i was the first person to read the notice....donno what prompted me to go to the class that day.....

Any way...i was half dead....half frozen...half eaten by fear by the time my fellow classmates reached......

"Man...i'm all screwed", I thought....what can be done?..... if mom or dad came....all my bunking classes would come to an untimely end.....i was in neck deep shit....

It was at that instant when i remembered my uncle who was at Palakkad....i had not visited him in a couple of years...I went.... In the evening itself......i somehow managed to sack him and he agreed to come the next week....

phew!!..i was relieved...but my Vineeth was still in trouble... He had not found a way out... We decided to present my uncle as his family friend...

This guy , Vineeth is the coolest dude in the whole world i have ever seen...cool in the true sense....rock solid...i had never seen him lose his nerves till the eventful day i am trying to picturise.

At last the day for the meeting came...i had a shave...[took off my villain sideburns]...just to get that polite look..dressed up in full uniform...[that too a first timer after the completion of my first semester]. and finally uncle came... from the time I can remember, I've seen him in his totally white outfit - white shirt and white dhothi (also called Mundu) with a solid border mostly. Spotlessly clean, rinsed with starch and Ujala - a kind of whitener, which gives a bluish tinge to whites. He used his regular leather sandals, again spotlessly clean, polished, bluffed and shining to perfection which made squeaking noise when he walked the through the vast college corridors.

A Mundu can be worn 'Full Mast' or 'Half Mast' like a national flag. A 'Full Mast' lungi is when you are showing respect to an elderly or the dead. Wearing it at full mast has lots of disadvantages. A major disadvantage is that your mobility is very much restricted. When you are wearing a lungi/mundu at full mast, the only known advantage seems to be for the female onlookers who are spared the ordeal of getting a glimpse of hairy legs.

Uncle used to fold his Mundu in half and tie it around when situation demanded. I've always wondered, this is so uncomfortable a dress when it comes to practicality. Whenever I had to wear it, my mobility would be compromised to a great extent. It restricts the free movement of your legs when you wear it around in full length and that's the reason why people wear it in half mast mode when more mobility is required. And adding to the woes, you are in constant threat of getting embarrassed in case the dhothi got untied and the world sees your prized possessions. 

But, when you see a Malayalam movie, you will come to know how versatile a dress, the dhothi is. You can show respect to your elders or parents by converting it from half mast to full mast. And it has to be done in front of the person if you want to show maximum respect. You can fold it around when you are in a fight or flight situation and show your manliness. In my humble opinion Dr. Lieutenant Colonel Padma Shri Bharat Mohanlal (Phew...) makes the best use of dhothi in Malayalam Film industry. He folds it in style and kick butts of all the bad asses in his movies with panache. He has even untied his dhothi in one of his movies, to wrap the head of a police officer and beat him up black & blue. 

Lungi provides good ventilation and brings down the heat between legs. A mallu is scared of global warming more than anyone else in the world.

To mention some other uses, you can wear it to your ration shop and use it as a shopping bag pitting things in the fold of the dhothi. Then, it may be used as a facemask while entering/exiting toddy shops/BARS!! Water filter while fishing in ponds and rivers, A lungi/mundu can be worn any time of the day/night. It doubles as blanket at night. It also has recreational uses like in 'Lungi/mundu pulling', a pastime in households having more than one male member. When these lungis/mundus are decommissioned from service, they become table cloths or window curtains. A mallu can play cricket, football or simply run when the lungi is worn at half mast. A mallu can even climb a coconut tree wearing lungi at half mast. "It's not good manners, especially for ladies from decent families, to look up at a mallu climbing a coconut tree"- Aristotle (or was it Mahatma Gandhi?)

I somehow liked the way his royal mirage colongue mixed with the odour of his Wills cigarette after-smoke smell though its hated by the rest of the population on the globe.

Vineeth presented his situation. 'Uncle, you have to help me'

'Hmm...', uncle said. 'How many back papers do you have, guys?'

"3...er 4...' we said. 

'Sons, clear them before you step out of the campus. otherwise, u'll pay for it.' Uncle said. 

'Yes, uncle', we said.

Uncle met the HOD, we went inside like the most obedient chaps in college, wearing an innocent look and an angelic smile. It worked for me, but alas, HOD insisted on meeting Vineeth's parents. And then, he blurted out the ultimate stupid lie I had heard in recent times. "Dad is sick, he cannot travel", he said. "OK", said the HOD, 'Make him call me on phone".

We got an auto for Uncle and saw him off. "Yes!!", we said as we reached home. One phone call, yes that can be worked out. No issues. We had our afternoon nap (ofcourse, bunked the afternoon classes!!) and in the evening, over a steaming cup of tea and ParleG biscuts, tried to remember all the faces which are connected to a mature voice. And then came Ramesh wearing his usual stupid smile and chali jokes (Chali = faltoo).

"Yes", we said, "there's our man!!"

Presented the matter to him. "I'll do it, Said Ramesh, "but, whats do I get in return?"

"A glass of rasna!!", we said.

"Done!!" 

The store keeper Krishnettan, smiled at us with his slightly yellow teeth. :One glass? You guys dont want?" I had dug all the piggy banks for 3 rupees to buy Rasna for Ramesh!! "No, Thank you Krishnettan, We've got sore throat!!" Ramesh however took a long sip and finished almost half glass in a go, then raised his eyes and asked "There won't be any issue, right?"

"What issue dude? Nothing will happen." I assured.

And we called the HOD, the drama was over in 2 minutes, FLAT...

We were caught red handed!! HOD told us, expect heavy consequences!! We won't be spared. Nowhere to go, we got worried whether Vineeth will get debarred or suspended or something like that. I prayed to God that day, after a long while. "God, don't let anything happen to Vineeth, there won't be anybody to bunk classes with me...Please God, Please..!!

Finally, Vineeth's Dad came, bailed us out. Both of us had learnt the lesson, the hard way. Scared the shit out of us. We changed, ever since. I stopped lying to any body after this incident. Even to console anybody, I have never lied ever since!!

This blog has stayed in my drafts for more than 3 years now. Thought I would complete it today. And here it is. A phone call that changed my attitude for life !!

Frosted Glass Windows

You know how, right before you are sure you are about to die or your world is about to crash, you suddenly become acutely aware of the world and yourself?? It’s like when one’s time is limited, suddenly everything falls into perspective...now that perspective isn’t necessarily always positive...like the glass can be half empty... A motorcycle crash shook me awake and made me think. With nothing much to do and waiting desperately for the wounds to heal and biting your teeth to keep from crying aloud with pain, I kept looking at the ceiling fan and thought and thought. I thought about home, I thought about the warmth and the people who make it a home. As it is said, its not about bricks and mortar that make a home. Bricks and mortar make a house, but the people in it and the love binding us all together make it a home. And that's what I'm gonna write about.

I spent a bit of time with my parents between my two jobs. I had other objectives as well; among them one was to get a feel of my parent’s home. Yes, I consider it my parent’s home, more categorically my mother’s. It’s my home, yes, and this time spent here has added to the feeling of it being home...but as for house, it screams my mom all over, including the shelves and cabinets and wardrobes that have been custom built for her and her alone... It’s all very good that its got my mother’s tastes, choice and build... but it’s definitely not MY house.

In 'The Fountainhead' by Ayn Rand, one reads about how a house has a personality and the occupant has to live up to that... one can argue that a house has to live up to the occupants personality as well... without getting into an argument I would just say that this house screams my parents in every possible way... if my parents personality has to edified, I would definitely choose the design of this house... above everything, its big and airy (mind you, my parents aren’t very tall people...), gives you a feeling of being out in the open... non-claustrophobic, yet cozy in every sense... sparsely furnished, yet one finds a place to rest in every corner... couple of curtains, no heavy drapes... frosted glass windows for the entire wall on one side of the living room, that bathes the house in sunlight...

Sitting alone in an easy chair in the middle of the living room, imagining my mom laughing and my dad going through journals or scribbling in his personal diary... I can’t help thinking how perfectly the house reflects the extremely vexatious couple that makes it home for me... they are people with big expansive personality, open heart and open mind... extremely caring with out being over protective... I would say they have always been there without ever making me feel the heaviness of their presence... never giving an opinion unless asked for, but always giving me the hand when I never realized I had asked for it... bright sunny, colorful personalities, with loads of fun... my mom is definitely my longest lasting girlfriend who is never shy to share a wink and a smile...

As I counted down on my days to departure, I was awash with the days made multi-colored by not just the couple, but by their house... which is my home... and as the sharpness of the realization dawned that I won’t walk these floors for a while in the near future... I became acutely aware of the house’s personality and yes, it definitely turned out to be the cherry on top...