The news round up.

Going by the news bytes of this week, one finds that the propensity to repeat mistakes is very much in vogue. I'd like to go by the theory that those people who resort to it, bank heavily on the saying that the public memory is short. Or is it another example of 'akrasia' - going ahead with a plan fully knowing that it's gonna be a disaster - at work? So, without much ado here, I go:-

 (a) Mamata Banerjee's failed actions at preventing the BJP rally in Calcutta.

       Whoever seems to be advising the tantrum throwing, Mamata, had got this completely wrong.
        Didn't they anticipate the court's intervention if the BJP had approached it? By taking such
        clumsy actions, didi's party has played into the hands of the BJP, viz. :-

            (a) the TMC seems to be jittery about the BJP upstaging them
            (b) it doesn't have anything concrete to show as major achievements in its three year rule!
            (c) it should permit other political parties to display their wares and outsmart them with
                 their's, well articulated.
            (d) it has forgotten that negative tactics never work.

       While talking about the political flip flops, Omar Abdulla in J&K has been upto the same tricks.
       Why can't the guy be decent, at least during the polls? And why is the BJP silent about the
        scrapping of the Art 370 of our Constitution? Worried about not getting the votes? Aren't you,
        then, hoodwinking the public?

  (b) Why's he hanging on still?

        After the stinging rebuke of the CBI chief by the Supreme Court of India, in connection
        with the 2G coal scam, why is he continuing to stick to his chair? We're, however, lucky that
        he'll pack his personal effects within a matter of a week when he retires from office. The
        manner in which his personal reputation has been maligned, his life would be in tatters. I'm
        sure that he must be groping for answers for his sucking up to the party in power.

        Is he now gonna come out with a book on his 'achievements and frustrations as the head of
        the CBI'? That sort of apology has now become boring because everyone, who has done it,
        seems to be saying that they're the 'goody good boys' with honourable intentions but weren't
        allowed the freedom to work by the 'corrupt' politicians.

        If that be so, why didn't you put in your papers at the first instance of indiscriminate interference         ? Or were the trappings of power, associated with your chair, so alluring that it's
        worthwhile to cling on to it at any cost? If the latter was the truth, you need to face the
        consequences, buddy!

   (c) Egypt back to square one?

         With the former dictator, Hosni Mubarak, being given a clean chit, the people have again
          taken to the streets against the government. They're only reacting to the lies that are being
          foisted on them. Wish the government had taken up a developmental agenda for speedy
          execution. But do governments, ever, care for genuine development at all?

 

Tailpiece.

All in all, an interesting year. Will the last month come out with major surprises? For that, we must wait and see!








       

It's been a year!

It's been a year since 'The Quarterdeck' has become our home.

It all appears to have happened only the other day, when I'd hung my uniform, accepted a glitzy farewell where fine sentiments were expressed, bid farewell to everyone who'd played significant roles during our stay at a small get together organised by us, gone through the pangs of shifting berth and the long tedious, yet interesting manner in which we'd set up our nest, come to mind in a satisfying flashback!

Lekha's hospitalisation to tackle a non healing ulcer, mom's continuous presence amid us, the monthly trips to my dad's house and also, meeting all the social commitments without fail were the activities that have kept us occupied in the year that has flown past. The interactions brought about a new verve in existing relationships and have also helped us pick up new friends in our immediate neighbourhood.

I've often heard people wondering as to how I'd chosen a place for our nest - in a new place - far away from relations and familiar people. Many of them must have even come to the conclusion that I'd gotten mad. But our experience, thus far, has been on the contrary. We've been able to get our things done without having to worry or for want of help.

Have we missed out, in life, by staying away from the limelight or more appropriately, the madding crowd of a fast moving city that we'd gotten to be familiar with? Nyet! While accepting the fact that there are a number of options to choose from in a city, we've never felt the pinch as there never has been a dull moment out here and the biggest appeal about the present set of circumstances is that one finds time to enjoy the simple things of life!

Kerala, being comparatively small, makes it possible for us to drive to any corner within a period of not more than twelve hours. And yes, driving has become a passion and a pastime, the narrowness and the frequent potholes on the roads notwithstanding!!


Tailpiece.

And of course, there a final option that's always available. Migrate to another place of one's calling if the need arises. A rolling stone gathers no moss, they say!   

Adieu CKC sir!

Mr. CK Chandrasekharan Nair, our Malayalam master at the Sainik School, Kazhakootam passed into the mist of time this morning. To quote a dear friend, "Death is an inevitable culmination to our mortal life but still when someone, who was part of our formative years and helped shape our future and destinies, breathes his last, it brings a lump to our throat".

CKC sir - as he was popularly known to all our school fellows - was all of 83 years. I'd called up Retheesh, his son and a junior schoolmate of mine, to offer my condolences on the passing away of his father. It was through him that I came to know that sir was afflicted with the 'Parkinson's Syndrome' towards his last years. The last three weeks, presumably, were really bad, in that, he'd to be fed through tubes and he'd lost his bearings, often throwing violent tantrums that were controlled with the administration of medicines. And over the last three days, he'd even stopped talking but as his son had recounted, his faculties were intact and he was able to recognise everybody till the very end.

Sir was close to my grandfather and because of that association, he had a soft corner for me though, I must hasten to add, that he played no favourites. He used to be greatly appreciative of my handwriting and I've never ever got a marking less than 51/2 and of course, 6 out of 10, which was his maximum if my memory serves me right.

A fund of knowledge, he made us like the Malayalam language with his very interesting ways of teaching punctuated with anecdotes, historical facts and stories. He could be a hard task master if one didn't rote the poems of the Malayalam reader that he gave us as homework. I missed his classes after class 8th as I was one among the higher Hindi batch though he'd continued to monitor my progress and provide the feedback to my folks, about which I came to know much later!

His pronunciation had come under our intense scrutiny and was the butt of our jokes and what I remember vividly,

even today is, 'Saavio George, Maathew George, baank(bank), paak(the ubiquitous betel nut, added just for emphasis and to give the rhyming effect, I suppose), chaak(gunny bag, again for the same reasons cited for the betel nut), taank(tank)' among the many that came out of our mischievous minds those days.

A unparallel fund of knowledge and I don't think that they make them teachers like him  anymore.

RIP, sir. My tears and prayers for a great teacher under whose tutelage I'd the privilege to be brought up during my formative years. May god give strength to his near and dear ones to tide over these stressful times.

Tailpiece.

Suddenly the feeling, that the ones that are close to you are leaving you, makes you disoriented and sad. Every parting induces a certain amount of death deep within which, I suppose, gets to be wholesome at the time of your ultimate departure!

Can he be the same ever again?

Stunning the players and the world's population of cricket lovers, Phillip Hughes has passed into the mist of time. He was hit by a ball on the back of his head that didn't have the protective cover of his playing helmet during a domestic cricket match in Sydney, two days ago.

Left handed batsman Phillip Hughes, an Australian Test and One Day International player aged 25 years - three days short of his 26th birthday - was hit by a rising ball from Sean Abbot, all of 22 years and a right handed all rounder trying to find a place in his national eleven. The event was the 'Sheffield Shield game'.

Despite corrective surgery, Hughes never regained consciousness during his fight for life while at the hospital. When his end was announced by the hospital, the grief was overwhelming with his fellow players uncontrollable in their display of emotions.

RIP, Phillip Hughes. My prayers and tears for a fighter on the cricket field!

And imagine the plight of young Sean Abbot. Can he be the same ever again? A part of his personality will always blame him for the untimely end of a promising player and colleague. By this time, he must have cursed himself a thousand times or even more for having bowled that rising ball and would be wishing to have another chance to do otherwise so as to erase the bad dream, once and for all!

Was he in the wrong? I don't think so. This is a part of the game and the unfortunate incident was a freak accident! Period!!

He deserves care - from everyone - to be able to maintain his sanity.


Tailpiece.

While mourning the loss of a loved one, the game of cricket will continue. Short balls will be balled and the odd rising ball will continue to intimidate the batsmen. It's all part of the game!  

His last hurrah?

I'd written in my musings of 22 Oct about Dharmettan's travails. He suffers from 'Lymphosarcoma of the intestine' - the same ailment that Rajesh Khanna suffers from in the Hindi movie, 'Anand'! He'd been taken to the Thrissur Medical College Hospital towards end October, where he was put through a battery of tests. Chiding his wife, Sathiamma, for bringing in the patient so very late, the doctor had estimated another two months of life for him(A fact that I disagree with, very strongly, as no doctor - however good he/she might be in his/her profession - can pronounce the actual time of death of his/her patient!)

Their only daughter, Archana, was scheduled to be married on 30 Jan '15 but this was advanced keeping in view of the medical report.

The wedding had taken place today in a nearby hall and we'd gone to attend the function. After wishing the newlyweds, we'd spent some time with Dharmettan who seemed to be quite detached from the entire set of proceedings and sported a worried look(Or was it all my imagination?). He seemed to have been totally exhausted after performing the fatherly duty of placing his daughter's hand in Suraj's, his son-in-law. While persuading him to join us for the feast, he declined, citing a lack of appetite as he'd a bowl of broth, made of broken wheat, prior to leaving their house.

Was his lack of enthusiasm because of the awareness of what was coming at him? Or was it the pain of a father who realises that his li'l girl would never be his from now on?

               *                                                *                                                  *

Today also happens to be the sixth anniversary of the dreaded terror attacks on Bombay. The sixty hours of fear, lurking danger and the heroic acts of both, security personnel and the ordinary citizens who'd lent their support to the needy, shall remain in our psyche for the years to come.

My prayers and salute to the victims and the heroes.


Tailpiece.

God, I hope you remember my request of wanting to have Dharmettan around us till next Diwali, at least? Suraj and Archana, here's us wishing you a long and happy married life with all that you wish for!

Back home!

We reached Ettumanoor, the start point, around a quarter past midnight. After the farewells, I'd accompanied my cousin, Kannan and his family, who're Ernakulam bound, in the same bus with the understanding that Shaji, the 'saarthi', would arrange an auto rickshaw from Chottanikkara but since there weren't any he'd extended the bus' trip to Thrippoonithura - damn sweet of him!

We reached my cousin's flat after about an hour and hit the sack, soon after, by around 0130h. Alarm was set for an early morning departure for Guruvayur and accordingly, I could board the train by a quarter past six and reached the temple town by a half past eight. And then 'terror' struck!

People who'd disembarked from the train were trying to board the first auto rickshaw that came their way and as I was getting out of the railway station, I was privy to a strange sight. Many of the ricks were refusing the passengers after being told of the intended destinations. Puzzled, I, too, had joined the queue and did not make haste as I had no deadline to meet. And then came the first, the driver of which, didn't even have the courtesy of telling me as to why he was refusing to take me along as he drove away. Then came the second and even a third, which buzzed past in the same brusque manner!

I was slowly getting irritated and angry. In fact, to the third guy, who'd driven past, I'd asked the reason for his refusal to take me along and he didn't even bother to answer - so much about people friendly utility services! And what baffles me is the abrasive arrogance exhibited by the guys who come from very poor background. Is it a show of their protest against one's ability to hire them? After a wait, finally, a rick had come to a stop in front of me. Mohan his name was and as I was getting off at my house, I asked him the reasons for my unpleasant experience.

With an apologetic smile, he said that this was a daily feature when the rick drivers vied with each other to 'ensnare' the passengers who're headed for longer distances and to my mind that was only possible if a traveller opted to go to the farthest edge or to a nearby town through Guruvayur, giving the temple town the skip! A mad thing to do in the circumstances!!

If this is not terrorism, what is?



Tailpiece.

Mohan added that he never resorted to such meanness and latched on to any trip that came his way, short or long, as his customers were important to him. Nice words, but something needs to be done to break the 'mafia behaviour' of the auto rickshaw drivers!   

At land's edge on my birthday!

The day had started at four in the morning and by 5 o'clock, we're at the bathing ghat. Dad's ashes, along with my grand aunt's and another elderly lady's of the neighbourhood were immersed in the waters of the Bay of Bengal around 10 minutes past 5. A sizeable crowd had gathered up, already, at the waterfront and with the winds being strong, the waves lapping against the shore were large and insistent. The religious ceremony - post immersions - were gone through and we're back at our hotel, much before 7 AM.

After a quick wash and change, a breakfast of steaming hot idlis washed down with filtered coffee and by a half past 7, we're off to Dhanushkodi - another 22 kms, further south - to see the much talked about remnants of a worthy past that was uprooted by the savages of the fierce cyclone of '64. We'd gone in two, four-wheel-drive smaller yet, sturdy vehicles towards the land's edge. And precisely, around a quarter past 9, we're at the land's edge with our guide showing us a greenish-brown patch, stretching towards in a south eastern direction into the sea, as the famous 'Ram sethu' - a bridge purportedly made with huge stones and boulders by the great monkey warriors of Lord Rama - which had enabled him to take his forces into Lanka, the land of the 'asura' king, Ravana and the rest, as they say, is history!

The remnants of the old railway station, the church, the post office and a small cluster of buildings were the mute and humbled spectators of nature's fury on that fateful day of 23 Dec '64. Standing at the land's edge, where once upon a time in the recent past was a township that was bustling with people and their connected activities, I was overwhelmed by the sights and had kept asking myself as to whether my presence, at Dhanushkodi, on my birthday had any significance at all?

The return.

And by about a half past 10, we're headed back home in the Volvo. A short and sweet trip, indeed!

Two kms north of Dhanushkodi, was the temple of 'Kodanda Ramar'. It was the venue of the anointment of Vibheeshana, as the king of Lanka, by Lord Rama after the slaying of Ravana. Vibheeshana was the saner of the siblings, who'd warned his brother, Ravana, that his act of kidnapping Sita was a mistake and that he should send her back forthwith, for which he was thrown into prison! We'd visited the spot before heading back home!!


Tailpiece.

My cellphone had some problem about its coverage during our entire stay at Rameshwaram and therefore, I was not contactable for quite a while during the day. However, my friends and relatives were insistent about wishing me and with that in mind, they had kept on at it till they could speak to me in person much later, during the day! Never did I feel more wanted!! Thanks guys, you really made my day!!!