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Rajdeep “impertinent” Sardesai

Expressions like “smug faced”, “Know it all”, “have an ego the size of a football field” are all associated with news anchors. This is one species almost universally hated and the reasons are not far to seek.

Rajdeep Sardesai, the big mouth lachie ' a word picked up from by schooldays when we nicknamed a real bigmouth that other kids ran away on sight - from Maharashtra was proving why he is a Maha; has a Maha voice, Maha smile, Maha suit that was oversized and a Maha ego. May be a maha dick too!!!

As an anchor for ND TV for the last 12 years, he was directly responsible for the death of 923 people (that is at the most conservative estimate; you can supply your own number too), who were asinine enough to watch the news before going to bed. These dolts suffered from weak hearts and this supercharged "Maha" turbo felled them with a voice from hell; it has a thunder and lightening aspect to it. I seriously feel a stab in the heart each time this man opens the big orifice serving for a cave-mouth. But this is real; there is a good doctor in Madras who advises patients not to listen to the "Maha" before going to bed lest their sleep gets compromised. Rajdeep is a pest of nuclear dimensions.

Rajdeep is a very interesting character; he was one of the first entrants to the world of 24×7 news channel under Prannoy's tutelage, the father of "private news channels" in India. Rajdeep soon gained an audience for his passionate coverage and frequent self-righteous outbursts. He was never the sober, staid anchor who read news with detachment but one who almost acted out the emotions. A good news anchor is one who has effacing quality; it should be packed with insights but there should be as less as one's personality. Hillary Anderson, Rageh Omar, Alan Johnston, and most BBC correspondent have that quality. Rajdeep is the very anti-Christ of this view. He wants attention on himself and news is secondary. That booming voice may as well be better used in a sailor's squabble than on an elegant news studio.

As he gained in popularity, he increasingly became even more absurdly pompous and started to treat himself as an icon. How else can you describe those megalomanical promos,” The most credible face on Indian television”. The problem with this country is that it is fast becoming an asylum; Navjot Sidhu is a confirmed patient while Rajdeep is getting there fast.

Rajdeep now in early 40s is a man of handsome looks; suits and ties suit him and he even flaunts his kurta and pyjama as a measure of one used to exerting his authority. A hair now swept over to the scalp, jelled but still unruly and made to stand like a crop near the temple and ear lobes, the hair even with a rich spread of grey brings to mind a grizzled hairsute animal. One often catches him with a coy smile and that confers an unintended touch of feminity.

His mouth is the working tool and weapon; for starters, too virulent. He interrupts guests at the drop of a hat, asks questions with a ferocity and presumptuousness that makes one cringe, and has an unbelievable gall for tomfoolery. This is the trait of any anchor but what makes Rajdeep rile so much on the nerves? He butts in at the drop of a hat - twice as much as any other - as if to exhibit his smartness. He is like a schoolboy who knows all the answers and will not allow the teacher to progress ahead. In Rajdeep case, the answers are all wrong; they are his presumptions. He seems to have a death wish of speaking more than the guests. You can trust this fellow to fart and then claim a gold medal!!!! You can’t blame him for it if the government goes about doling a Padma Shri and confirms the lunacy.

Indian anchors are prone to asking long winding questions that it is difficult to remember the first part before they are through; the guests are mauled in a show of brazenness in the idealistic flame of journalism. They resemble sick patients in immediate need of a sedative; should anyone talk at home like this man in the studio, I am certain the ambulances would have been summoned. Rajdeep is to media what Sreesant is to cricket; “appam chutiya”; both are stripteasers and hungry for attention.

In our country even uncouth assholes who are articulate are mistaken for intelligence. Rajdeep has a copywriter zest for suave punchlines and when he conjures one, he will repeat it often to prove how smart he is. The mad bugger is in love with himself even when nature has given him no reasons. That impish smile at the end of a supposed “smart quip” frankly grates. We must put his man in perspective; he cannot even be a shoeshine boy of John Simpson, Tim Sebastian, Hilary Anderson, Rage Omar, Orla Quanin, etc. All these are BBC correspodents and it is joy to hear follow their work; a correspondent must have perspicuity to the unfolding situation, a vocabulary to describe it, and importantly efface oneself completely. A good cricket commentator is one who seemlessly blends with the action and taking care that his personality does not pop out conspciously. That’s why a Sidhu, Bogle, Gavaskar jar while a Manjrekar, David Lloyd, Holding, Gower, Botham, Willis a breath of fresh air.

Rajdeep is a disaster as an anchor but as a moderator for "Big Fight" very feisty in stamping his authority. He has the wit to spot an argument from a spin and this keeps the participants on their toes; none would wish to get into an interrogation with Sardesai; he seems to have a patent for shouting out opponents. He is the shouting brigade of television much like the notorious one in Parliament.

These days he tries very hard to to inject some grivatas; the commedian comes with a gelled hair designed to stick out as if the "Maha" has stepped out from a bath and just dried the towel. It is difficult to make sense of his hairstyle as it stands on roots like a porcupine; simply crazy or is it a warning for the viewers that a sticky loud animal is on the prowl.

Make no mistake, the loudest preacher on Indian television is Rajdeep. It would be nice to see his mouth stitched; such is the prayer he leaves me with. These people have sold their souls to commerce long back - each time the TRP goes down they increase the gossip coverage on Bollywood and cricket; what’s more the news can be generated at will too - but act so holy and sanctimonious.

Posted in Humour.

2 comments

By Sathya Narayanan – June 24, 2009


Barkha “smug” Dutt

There is something about this short, scrappy schoolboy cut woman that causes discerning people into losing their composure; Barkha hits a raw nerve somewhere. Television anchors live in their own world; blinded by an ocean sized ego that finds daily nourishment as bureaucrats and politicians come crawling by. Any tragedy; be it a natural tsunami or a bomb explosion is manna from heaven, the cameras can roll non-stop and they can have their mug faces for hours on end. It requires an insane wiring in the head to arrogate a hyper sense of self-importance; this tribe believes that it is actually influencing the masses and it can pronounce its judgment on the Kataras, Jessica Lals, and others.

Barkha is guilty of all this and more; she comes with an attitude of "I know it all" and a disgusting smug body language. Barkha owes her fame to her reporting the Kargil war; this modern day Durga was all over the place decoding the terrain, the strategy, gossip of soldiers peppered with dollops of patriotism. Only in this country can a raw person comment on an unfolding war; contrast it to Rage Omar's coverage of Iraq war on BBC. Our television viewers don't demand much; except an attractive face and glib language skills. Barkha isn't in the least attractive but her rattling mouth ensured that she earned her spurs. Even the US army was suitably impressed to invite her on their submarine and even now I guffaw to the memory of this woman in military overalls. As the war concluded, I felt that it ended with one less casualty.

After Kargil, Barkha stands unchallenged in fame and copyrighting loudness for incompetence. She can pontificate like no one else. There is one requirement for any Indian anchor if he or she wants to make it big. You must be able to talk the whole day without making any sense; there can no other inference after the failed Agra summit and Mumbai blasts. An ability to talk infinitum is an occupational necessity. If you on a television every day for a decade, you begin to throw even more airs as juniors congregate to suck in bestowing a halo that is so divorced from reality. Barkha truly believes that she is the apple-eye of creation and she is the torchbearer of feminity in this country.

In her "We the people" (all these channels arrogate such pompous sounding titles; try this "India questions" for sheer arrogance), she will go around putting her hand and cajoling people into peace from unwanted enthusiasm to speak their minds in unison. She ends up pontificating more!!!

Tsunami in 2004 was another occasion where she fortified her reputation. Hard to figure out as to how is it possible for a person handicapped by ignorance to the Tamil language to cook up news as she trekked from hamlet to another? Barkha is gifted with a gift of the gab; she can emote and talk her way out of such obstacles. On the other hand BBC correspondents definition of their jobs are much stiffer; a correspondent must learn the language so as to be nuanced to the local press and gossip in the street. Prannoy Roy is not so fastidious as long as the advertising community is shown the TRPs. Or was there no-one with knowledge to Tamil and competent enough to cover the natural disaster? Either way, a disaster situation!! But compared to Rajdeep and Arnab, she is a little more digestable.

Mumbai blasts last year was another occasion for this anchor genius to display her reporting zeal. Reporters in Indian channels are raw boys and girls just out of college and not required to be insightful except speak glibly. Reporters' job is to answer to queries posed by the anchor in the studio and news is what the poor viewer has to decipher from these conversations; sadly they don't raise over a village gossip in a tea stall!! During the Mumbai blast, Barkha flew into city ' it was a big enough occasion for the master- and as usual made a hash of it. The commandoes were firing at the Oberoi hotel and reporters were getting orgasmic and jumping out of their skins at the sound of guns and a plume of smoke from a gun-powder. ND TV at that very moment was going for a commercial break when Barkha threw a fit and a tantrum as well," Natasha, Natasha, Natasha" .yelling for attention so that the poor viewer can see that smoke!!! 26/11 blasts showed the "private English media" to shame like no other. She sued a blogger for a malicious article when he was just pointing out her ineptness; these channels compromised so many lives with their chirpiness and alacrity for "breaking news" and being the first off the block.

I never understood this 100 metres dash race; how will be any smarter if I know that blast occurred at 9 in the night or an hour later. It makes no difference from the viewer except be cheap brownie points for the channels. One expects a channel to convey hard facts and not attempt a cheap commentary peppered with one's views; it is sheer pomposity and needs a capital punishment.

After the election news, all the three channels ' ND TV, CNN IBN, and Times Now ' ran newspaper campaigns showing how they were the most preferred; each came with their own surveys replete with graphs. No wonder, we now know how they cook figures too. Prannoy Roy started ND TV with an half an hour capsule in 1989 and today has over 10 channels or now; he has made hay and made suckers of us all. Each time they suffer a low TRP then these assholes increase the "bollywood and cricket" content. Remove these and the edifice will crumble tomorrow.
Barkha has a dedicated and strong community on Facebook,” Can you please remove Barkha from the air?” It has over 5000 members and they have a gala time generating “barkha” humour. It can a humourist’s delight; when a mediocre being starts to throw weight or assign a self-image 180 degree apart from reality then it becomes quite a sitcom. Even a Shakespeare or Newton or Einstein don’t burden themselves with such bloated egos.

For long I thought that Navjot Sidhu, Harsha Bogle,Rajdeep, Arnab, Barkha would be residents in an asylum; they deserve credit more than I imagined. At this rate, the viewers are more in danger.

Posted in Humour.

3 comments

By Sathya Narayanan – June 23, 2009


Wioman of Substance series - Mrs. Gopalratnam

Parvathi Gopalaratnam: She is unquestionably the most superior human being I have seen in my life. She is 84 and her daily regimen includes yoga and pranayama ' including the strenuous surya namaskars and asanas -for over 5 decades and she meditates at least for couple of hours a day. Each inch of that effort shows in the face: a long nose, eyes bunched closer, a small mouth, slight wrinkles around the cheeks, the face more gaunt than fatty but the eyes are most serene and placid. At home I have only seen her wear those flowing night gowns and there is nothing fancy about the person at least outwardly. And she sports pastel coloured sarees to work.

Mami is a third generation theosophists; her aunt was the famed Rukmini Devi Arundale and this is a family tree that has so many accomplishments. Their grandmother could have more likely been the first female jail warden or her uncle the first to fly a fighter plane for the Air force or someone in the family rehabilitating young widows. So for mami having grown in the company of a Annie Besant or Jiddu Krishnamurthy is an everyday fare. These are superior genes and you can sense it from a distance.

What makes Mami so special for me is her sheer company. I am an old friend of the family and old couple ' Mama passed away 4 years back close to 90- and they were interested in my tales; my frequent loss of jobs, my ambitions for overseas assignments or any passing fad at the moment. Mami was always reserved and never spoke a word out of context or even participated. She, by her very presence, exuded so much peace that I was cognizant off. Later she said: once the mind is rid of its agitations, it becomes very strong and a mere wish would come to fruition. Hers was such a mind.

I used to have philosophical discussions with Mama and Vijay (their bachelor son who is nearer 60 himself) and mami would just say a sentence and that would hit home. Yesterday, I was lamenting about how lonely my life has gotten after the engagement broke off and how I may have to go through life without a companion, she said," Sathya, we are always alone". That statement just knocked me off from any more self-pity.

When a woman speaks so low and soft, so sensible, and so true; one feels a divinity in the air. After Mama's demise, I have cut short my visits; my monthly visits have become an annual air. Mami would be either cooking or in her meditations and it would foolhardy to be an intruder. But each time, she would enquire," How is your Mumbai sister? What about BPCL sister? How is your aunt's husband faring after the amputation?" Her concern always sounds so inclusive and well-meant.

The Gopalaratnams stays in the Theosophical Society Gardens. The house is huge bungalow with high ceiling and constructed before the First World War. These are the kinds of structures that even governors don't enjoy. The house is like an island with acres of trees and plants around it. The dogs would bark out of their skins at strangers and you need to have accumulated a lot of punya to stay in such sylvan settings.

Mami has a very understated personality; even at 84 she is the chief librarian of Adyar Library (one of the oldest and most esteemed in Theosophical communities). At 84, she still puts in 3 hours of work at the library ' the staff simply adore for the peace she brings to any situation. That self-effacing smile and inclusiveness backed by a powerful intellect is a joy to behold. Mami is the kind of person you would like to be yourself.

It is inconceivable to ever imagine mami shouting or screaming or excited or trepidation. The mind has gone through all these phases and lives in its own solitude and peace. No face has reflected such divinity and peace and I pinch myself for my extraordinary stroke of good fortune to be talking to them or having coffee at their place.

PS: I am not going with a photograph from fotosearch for this one!!! She is too divine a person for any dilution. I go with the emblem of the Theosophical Society for she has been a life-long theosophists.

I end this series with this poignant thought; women are no doubt God’s finest creation. Can anyone ever listen to “Kurai Endrum Illai” from M S Subbulakshmi and not moved to tears? She is so divine that tribals would be rendered speechless. How about a toothy grin from a face full of scars moving you to tears and you feel exalted as to belong to the same species? Mother Teresa in a saree stitched at various places was a picture of great spiritual beauty. Then one can extol about AUng Song Suu Kyi and her fight for freedom of her people.

I have been blessed with grandmother who endured poverty and raised 8 children; all prospered and that can only be attributed to her strength of character. There is something magical about women; if they possess some attributes in good measure they look divine.

I have also loved Seetha; that she could forego the comforts of a palace to a forest says a lot about her character. Then there is Gandhari who by blindfolding her eyes conveys a beautiful message; I shall share the same fate of my husband. And Savitri is my favourite; she married a person despite knowing that he had just a year to live and he was in penury. The princess lived with them and she didn’t seem the complain the lack of AC or servant maids or cars. That alone for me is inspiring than her subsequent wit with Yama.

Posted in Personal.

2 comments

By Sathya Narayanan – June 22, 2009


Woman of Substance series ' Manisha

It was the darkest phase of my life. My career was yet again sinking for no fault of mine except perhaps karmic. In the first decade of my work life, I had bizarre interruptions: a sudden heart surgery, work permits getting delayed due to gulf war, and now running into a manic manager. He used to throw layouts out of the cabin and yell such that one's humiliation was public spectacle.

I fell into the darkest depression possible and lie on the bed for over 20 hours a day and watching even the inane television too big a task.

I was so depressed that I locked myself in the bedroom for the second month running. The food tasted like saw dust and nothing held interest. I was determined to force the issue; just marking date and time for exit. I was hopelessly alone too as my mother had gone to Mumbai to be with her daughter and nobody at home wasted their emotions on me; the daughters went in cars while the son was hopeless failure and an embarrassment better covered up.

I used to have some friends on Orkut and one of them was a doctor. Dr. Manisha wrote a couple of mails and so I replied back more out of courtesy than any interest. My most comforting thought was musing on death and I was optimistic that it was only a matter of time. I was determined to resign from this earth stint; the tablets were in place and my scientific brain had researched the whole thing out. No gory sight for the undertaker and it must have finesse. I might have lived like a moron but no violent death, please.


She asked," Ashok, you seem to give an eerie impression of wanting the quit the game of life midway. Is it true or is it the imagination of an overworked psychiatrist?"

This acuity saved my life as I bared my problems. The doctor in Delhi gave her number urging me to call. BTW, I am based at Chennai.

I called and spoke for an hour. I was determined that nothing positive would come in my life. Living was futile and a burden to others and I would probably pull the plug by the week.

Dr. Manisha said," Ashok, that's your illness speaking. Forcing death and life after death could be more unpleasant. Just hang around and have these drugs. They will cheer you in a fortnight and let's take it from there."

Her voice was encouraging and friendliness beyond belief and her kindness and compassion immeasurable. I was insistent though, "Doctor, I have pills that will induce a brain seizure when mixed with whiskey and I am determined to escape this pain".

"Ashok, you shall do nothing of that sort. If you feel like popping those pills, call me anytime. Will you at least make that promise to me?"

I never found a better doctor and a friend. She would email me everyday and keep sending positive SMS messages. She would call me and speak for hours on end unmindful of cell charges between Delhi and Chennai.

Slowly, life started ebbing into the system. I even asked," Didi (by now, Manisha gave way to Doctor and then finally settled to Didi) why do you care for a stranger like me?
You don't even allow a man to die in peace".

She got the humour, "I'll spank you if you feel that way. Ashok, I am a doctor and I feel a human life is so important and I'll go to any distance to save it".

Dr. Manisha Kalyani runs free medical camps for the poor in psychiatry treatments and provide free counseling and free medicines in South Delhi. She is the very soul of service and her compassion for the downtrodden immeasurable

As for me, I see an angel and goddess in her. And if I were to die tomorrow, my last words would be "Manisha" for she showed more affection than all my family members and friends put together. She has been holding such camps for more than a decade now and many would echo similar sentiments.

This happened about 4 years back and I do speak to her on a weekly basics. Her family loves to read my scribbles and I even visited them twice; it felt a pilgrimage. I am 40 now and but for Manisha I would have been dead in ages; she has shaped into a wonderful "akka" that destiny has bestowed me out of blue.

God does take a human form when in duress; Manisha means the world to me.

Posted in Personal.

2 comments

By Sathya Narayanan – June 18, 2009


Woman of Substance series - Althea

This goes back to at least 8 years when I had a short assignment for the Singapore embassy; an advisory cell for students on their eligibility for a study visa in that country. Ms. Althea Fitzsimons was the executive secretary to the Director and soon enough we became good friends.

Althea, a 24 year petite Anglo-Indian was an exceptional secretary; as is so common to that community. Her cascading, bob cut hair, a musk perfume, and a short gown exposing her shapely legs to her advantage. Combine this with a restrained mouth that reflected before replying in an ultra soft whisper and you know that you are in the presence of a femme fatale that could grace any royal court.

She was engaged to a guy in Australia and hence quickly became everyone's sister!!!
But one wag in the office said," I will break that engagement", to merriment around.

I would pick on her "Fitzsimons" surname; for it sounded like a fighter aircraft.
Soon many started to address her as F-16 or F-17. In addition I would taunt her on her accented feminity.

Althea would prone to say," Anand, I wasn't always like this. You would be surprised that even in college I was a tomboy. Yeah, then quite suddenly I became completely feminine" as I began to quiz her on her grooming.

I was wont to give her a ride in my bike and one day, the skies opened to real cats and dogs. As we sat in the office for the showers to abate she showed a passport size photograph of herself. In the snap she looked almost angelic with a long mane of hair and face with baby fat cheeks.

She said," Anand, I used to have a long hair but lost them during the cancer treatment".

I almost jumped off the chair," Come again, I did not hear you right".

Althea continued," When I was 16, I fell ill and rapidly losing weight, feeling exhausted most of the time. There is a small lump in the right thigh and the tests revealed that it was malignant. The cancer had advanced to the lymph nodes and we wasted no time in treatment.

I was on laser treatment in addition to chemotherapy. I was a touch-and-go case for the hospital and the entire staff of nurses, wards boys, resident doctors and chief doctor cheered and willed me to cross the line. Moreover, those days I really looked like a kid and they would tweak my cheeks in fondness.

I remember the day when the WBC count fell to less than 100, I cried the whole day. The nurses cheered me up saying that I should not waste my "little packet of energy" on tears and instead stay positive to fight the disease. They were really considerate beyond belief.

Slowly, I made it losing just my hair and one academic year at school. The entire hospital cheered when I was discharged. Dr. Maitreyan (he is now the spokesperson for AIADMK) was the one who worked the miracle and I am still grateful to him.

Even now I go to Adyar Cancer Hospital on a monthly basis to cheer other patients. I am some sort of a counselor and many come to me with their fears. I guess my words carry more weight for I have gone through the pain and suffering".

I was astounded as how this frail, beatific girl endured such pain?

 

It was a month later she told me this tale; as we ordered noodles late in the evening. It looked like a long night of work before us and we prepared our stomachs first. She said while eating," I first met Benny in my cousin's wedding; he kept staring at me. He asked me for a dance in the evening after he danced with my parents".

 

"Actually my parents insisted that he dance with me; enough of the old generation but go to the young".

 

"We saw one another and Benny dropped into my house and proposed to my dad!!! Something more like ' uncle, if you don't have any objection I would like to marry Althea".

 

"I agreed to the proposal to everyone's satisfaction" Althea said in between her noodles and Pepsi. "Anand, you won't believe it. Just 3 days before he was to go to Australia to take up a job, Benny met with an accident. He was hospitalized for a month; there were multiple fractures and I looked after him".

 

I sat up," Meaning you were day and night in the hospital".

 

Althea said," Not only that, I even helped him in sponge baths and toilets. My mother was against it saying that we were still not married and it was not my responsibility. But I held firm".

 

Looking at me, Althea asked," It was not anybody's fault that Benny had an accident. What if the accident had occurred after our marriage? So why should I not care now".

 

I just saluted her saying," Wish I had met you before that blighter; you are an incredible woman".  

Soon after she married her Aussie boyfriend and the entire office ' right from the peons to the directors gave her a memorable farewell.

I was discussing about Althea to a common friend and his words still ring in the mind: with such an attitude and perseverance, Althea will be a winner anywhere. Such a woman can live with any man and uplift him; one can never associate words like "divorce" or "affairs" with F -16 except "love", "family" and "faith". She can build a family out of straws!!!!

 

PS: This is a real story; I have just changed “Sathya” to “Anand” to avoid monotony in narration.

 

Posted in Friends.

2 comments

By Sathya Narayanan – June 17, 2009


Woman of Substance series - Meera

It's been 2 years now when Meera first entered the kitchen and ever since she has taken charge and given satisfaction.

I still remember those times when I was in sore need of a cook. With my relations irretrievably estranged with mother; mother went to Bombay to stay with my now estranged sister in Santacruz for 6 months. That turned out to be most peaceful period of my life and I resolved never again to share diggings with that malignant force, no matter the costs.

I had this crazy job of penning creative stories for WWM and those did not require me to venture out of the house. Hotel food just doesn't agree with the stomach or the Annapurna dabha meals. I am a fairly good cook myself but then the mind revolts; there is a feeling of revulsion. Cooking for oneself is a curse like no other and this accentuates loneliness like hell. It deflates your psyche and it is for this reason that I don't cook food or go to a movie alone. I needed a cook and in a hurry too.
I went to the only Brahmin store near Besantnagar bus terminus and put in a word: can you suggest a cook for an Iyer Brahmin? The owner of the shop ' they sell all these pickles, vadams and pudis that only this community would use ' was a short, plumb, middle aged lady whose spectacles was conspicuous on the face. She immediately said: this is Meera's number and you can contact here.

Meera came to the flat enquiring about the job offer. I liked the look of her; a tall and stately demeanour, a ringing sonorous voice, parted hair at the forehead and pleated at the back, a jasmine string bunch on top of the head, and vermillion on the forehead. In short, a typical Brahmin look!!

 

She came to the point straightway," Vidya Stores indicated that you were looking for a cook".


I asked," Will you just cook or also wash utensils?"


She winced looking flabbergasted. Meera said," I can help arrange one. I only cook and that's it".


Then we came to the terms as she said," I have never cooked at a place for just one person. I really don't know how to quote. I cook for a couple in the neighbourhood and they pay me Rs.3, 500".

I concluded the deal to her satisfaction," How about Rs.2500? I shall help you by keeping the rice and dhal so you don't have to spend a longer time here".

Thus started her employment with me and I can unequivocally state that she has given full value. I cannot survive without Tambrahm food and I treat her as an ally than have any illusions of being the boss. When I have to instruct her, I would call her by her name and when I wanted a favour, I would say," Akka"!!!

 

It is next to impossible to source a Tambrahm cook and I knew that it was my good karma that  landed Meera to my place. Getting a maid, a tailor, barber, good neighbours are products of one's karma, most definitely.

Meera would come by 8:00 in the morning and she would get into her job straightway. A no nonsense and no gossip at all. It entailed of me to get the pressure cooker ready and also place the day's vegetables on the black granite slab in the kitchen. Meera would get on with the chores and her job did not take more than 30 minutes. It's usually a sambar or rasam, one curry, and 4 chappatis.

Slowly we got used to each other and we developed respect. It is easy to be admire a person so regular; just work and go.

These were no ordinary days in my life. There were the turbulent days when my marriage collapsed and poor Meera had to hear all those tales. Remember I am a recluse as imaginable and being stuck at home gave no opportunity to meet new kinds. Then there truant ways of mother and how she conspires to still dig my grave. The treachery of my sisters can fill pages but they get a patient hearing with Meera.

Slowly she too opened up and when I enquired about her husband, she simply said," He just ran away and I have not known his fate in a decade". She has single-handedly nurtured a son to a position of respect. Being poor, she enrolled him in Vedic studies and today at 17 years, the stripling is a "ganapatigal"; a title given to one who has mastered the Veda parayanam. She works in 3 houses and that can at best give her an income of 9 K and the son has now started earning and that family is seeing some prosperity after a long trail in the tunnel. Meera in addition takes care of her mother, an example I keep quoting to my sisters for their dereliction of duty towards mother: shame, you don't even have the morals of a cook. Go, hang in shame.

As an employer, I am generous. If there is an extra milk sachet, I have no qualms in giving it to her. Nor am I stingy with vegetables. If there is an excess or I am not in a mood to eat the same insipid thing the next day, I tell her to wrap it for home. I always praise her work for she fills a role that I am extremely grateful for. This food is agreeable and that is suficient enough to earn my gratitude and respect.

Meera keeps telling me," Sathya, I have many offers near my house in Karpagam Gardens but my conscience does not allow me to leave this place and leave you in wilderness. You are a gentleman and I have not come across many who does not look at a woman with lustful eyes".

I laugh it off," There can be a passion and love with only one person and I don't see every woman with passion rimmed eyes".

Of late, she keeps saying," Sathya, you are a noble man and I keep telling my mother and son about your tales". She insisted so much that I see her mother that I visited her home in Kalpagam Gardens (about 2 kms from my place) on Ganesh Chaturthi day and her mother gave me the best kozhakattai (modaks).


That really made my day. Getting compliments from people who see you day in and day out is something to be cherished. And that too from a person whose courage and sense of duty, I respect immensely.

 

Meera, to me, defines a cultured woman; sense of duty, ability to fight life's odds (for a single woman to fend for herself with a toddler by cooking in various houses. She has naarated tales of how creepish some men could get especially against a very vulnerable and defenseless woman. She warded them all and has not compromised her dignity at all), and cheerful as she looks forward to her son's marriage and his issues thereupon. In the last year, the family has bought a colour television, the lad a motorcycle, and she is making tepid inquiries for a house. May you ever be happy, Meera you have earned it.

Posted in Food.

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By Sathya Narayanan – June 17, 2009


The curse of Theosophical Society

I discovered the beauty of TS after my heart surgery in 1998. I was mandated to work by the doctors and I discovered the pristine lands of the society for my daily walks. It is a place like no other on earth; 200 acres of forest area in the middle of a bustling and smoke filled city. There is a sanctity to the place; Annie Besant, Jiddu Krishnamurthy have walked and stayed in the premises so did Tagore and Gandhi. It is famous for the biggest banyan tree in the world and it has been home to soul stirring speeches. I have heard lectures by the most eminent persons on Budhism, Shinto, Vedanta, and what have you.

 

The society full of coconut grooves, pines, creepers are home to a lot of migratory birds; those white storked that look so beautiful to the eyes. The Adyar river joins the Bay of Bengal on one boundary of the society and visually very few things can match the beauty; the yellow sands of the beach, waves dying on the beach with a roar, breeze all around and the Adyar river joining the sea; all miles away from the traffic and the greenery of the trees is a bewitching sight that even heaven cannot improve upon. That it is the middle of a city is too good to be true.

 

Walking on the lawns of TS needs a walking permits; it is actually dished out to Judges and bureaucrats or retired services people in the army. The rich and famous walk here for their daily exercise and it is a surprise and a wonder that a two-penny like me too have been given this facility. I have had this walking permit from 1998 onwards and renewed each year. Having a walking permit is an envious possession; many high and mighty have been denied this ethereal pleasure.

 

The society does not take lightly to walkers speaking on the cellphone or towing children along; nothing must disturb the serenity and tranquility of the place. So this is a small patch of land where there is a lot of silence and the grace that flows from it.

 

If there are two things I am proud of in my life it is my walks in the TS and Swamiji's weekend lectures. Both have catapulted me to stratosphere many a times and sometimes I have felt the exhilaration of  having climbed the everest; such is my appreciation and the beauty of the place.

 

But I have been afflicted with this strange curse; anyone I taken as a guest for a walk have fallen out.

 

I once took Kasi Viswanathan; he was a colleague from Singapore and he was bowled over by the place. The very next day the office closed down and we lost our jobs.

 

Then there was Priya; a great friend and a wonderful conversationalist. She was a dancer, software engineer and full of gaiety and humour. Her listening prowess was exceptional; rarely one had to repeat the obvious and her quip remarks to my litany of tales were amazingly insightful. I was not dating her but as a friend we were on intimate terms. I took her for a visit here and she went off to USA and totally blanked out.

 

Then it was my sister's turn; this is as safe a relation as State Bank of India, you could say. This relation too fell off the cliff and we are now barely on talking terms.

 

Then it was the turn of my uncle, Vaithyanathan; he is an evolved person and we go back a long way. He once invited me to a week's stay in Hyderabad and his wife and son ill-treated me so much that I went to a lodge in a huff after a couple of days stay; after that the relations got freezed from both ends. We do speak on the phone but the relation has definitely lost its sheen.

 

But the worst snapping was with my then fiancée. We had one of the most wonderful evening walks in the society in a October setting sun; there was a nib in the air and she was overwhelmed by the sight. She shone as bright as the stars and moon in the sky in her blue chudidar. We sat on the beach in twilight, fantasizing our futures. Hope, love, faith never shone brighter in our hearts. That relation too nosedived in the din of our everyday fights. I still recollect her jocular remark; there is one giant tree from Africa whose trunk swells so wide and the leaves as scarce as a cropped hair in the top. She had remarked," Sathya, it looks as obese as you", in banter.

 

Lastly my cousin's husband, Srinivasan is a wonderful friend and he wanted a walking permit. I promised to assist him by talking to the Estate Manager. He wanted a pass for his son too and then it becomes unwieldy; my influence is not so much. I can canvass the case of a 65 year old man and portray him as a senior citizen but not the 30 year old son and his still younger wife. In any case, there is not much love lost between me and the younger generation; they keep to themselves. The elder man is upset and I am upset too," I can only love you and not your dog and your morose son".

 

SDP and Manisha; my best friends wanted to take me to TS. They have heard many stories but I am not willing. It would be grief stricken to lose those ties. Once or twice can be a coincidence but not a string of characters. There is something about me, TS and my guests!!! Scary.

 

There is another pattern too; not one of the guest walked with me the second time through the society. I was telling MK,” Let’s go to TS in the morning and then come back in the evening to beat the curse but the best is to avoid that place all together”. SDP attributes my dread to my over active brain but I am not taking any guest to TS in the future. If they are interested let them visit the place as visitors during “public” timings where there is access halfway up to the banyan tree. Though one is not allowed to walk upto the beach, it is still a worthwhile sight and I don’t lose any more friends.

 

The picture is the Headquarters Hall where lodge meetings takes place. There is a wonderful inscription on the facing wall; there is no religion higher than truth. Just to sit and soak in the atmosphere of this hall is something my mind always delights in.

Posted in Personal.

4 comments

By Sathya Narayanan – June 16, 2009


When North meets South

Seated on the podium was the chief guest, the chief minister Mr. Chandrababu Naidu and the occasion was the state awards ceremony at Rabindra Bharati. The hall was jam packed and the glitterati of Hyderabad were all there; VVS Laxman the cricketer, Dasari Narayana Rao, the film director and even the superstar, Chiranjeevi. The writers and poets community were being honoured and they were in attendance.

 

The speaker, President of Rastra Saheti Academy Mr. Seshagiri Rao, announced the winners and each one walked to the dais and was honoured with a shawl, a citation, and a cash prize of Rs. 1 lakh. The prize comes with a lot of prestige and even the publishing industry was keen.

 

This year's biggest award," Rashtra Saheti Award" was awarded to Ms. Rupinder Kaur Sethi. A frail, 50 year old lady, dressed in a pink silk saree walked towards the dais. She was overwhelmed with emotion as the Chief Minister handed over a garland and held the citation for the press photographers to click. His wife hugged Rupinder Kaur and draped the shawl while the award winner was in tears.

 

Rupinder walked to the podium and spoke with quiet dignity and in Telugu," Brothers and Sisters, this is the biggest honour of my life". She choked again as she continued taking in some water from a glass kept there," I started learning Telugu only when I was 40 years old. It all started when a friend of mine taunted me on my lacking the basic language skill. I have been working in Andhra Pradesh for over a decade and I did not even have a 5 word vocabulary. I was a Vice President of a software company and that's went an old friend remarked rather sardonically how North Indians are dumb, racial and indifferent; they would rather learn French or Spanish rather than learn a Dravidian language".

 

"Of course, he was right. That stung me for days and I went to a CIEFL at Tarnaka and asked for a Telugu teacher for private tuitions. Slowly I started to appreciate the language; I visited all the cultural places; Vizinagaram, Bazawada, Warangal, Srisailam and fell in love with the community. Telugus are the most peaceful race on earth and they are most adaptable. Slowly I put all my thoughts in a book, little knowing that it would win the Rashriya Puruskar".

 

To a man and woman, the crowd gave a standing ovation as the Chief Minister's wife  escorted Rupinder to her seat in the VIP sections of the hall. Rupinder simply said," I now realize how important is to for every Indian to learn the regional language. We must always be well versed in our mother tongue and the also the language of the place that provides for our livelihood", as she quoted to the journalists assembled there.

 

Rupinder was the first Punjabi to learn a Dravidian language and she teaches Telugu in her hometown Ludhiana for those intending to work in Southern states. She often tells her student," South Indians are no doubt simple people but their culture is deep and distinct. North can only profit from learning their art form and music".

 

"You cannot respect a place without understanding the language; it is the entrance to cultural heritage of place".

 

One student asked," But isn't it difficult?"

 

Rupinder said almost in a cajoling manner," You just need a 100 words vocabulary for survival and beyond that you are better than a 2 year old keeping the entire household spellbound with its prattle".

 

That was the day when North India woke up to respect the South; Rupinder is all set to win the national unity award too.

 

PS: I am not controlling the comments icon; it just malfunctions and doesn’t show all despite my best efforts. So I will even cut and paste on the posts itself.

 

 budhoose kanjoose said…8:28 AM | 14/Jun/09 | |
north indians rspecting south? that must be the national joke!!
 sahil banga said…12:16 PM | 13/Jun/09 | |
hmm…i do appreciate the art and music of southern states, but learning a language wudnt be easy. and abt north indians being snobbish and learning spanish and french instead, i think its abt d higher benefit, cz these languages and widely used…

My personal take is that northies consider themselves superior; they have the advantage of a fairer co,plexion. I know many north indian families will not welcome an Obama into their drawing rooms but for this presidency status!!!! There is a natural contempt to anything south.

For DMK ideologists, they saw Hindi as a derivative of Sanskrit; the language of Brahmins. So there is natural Hindi bashing.

 

But this much is true: a northie does not bother with the south. There is no cultural overlap at all. Pray how many north indians study carnatic music or take to Bharatnatyam? Or what percentage of Punjubis understand Tamil or Telugu, even if they are based in Chennai? I am not talking through the hat; there is a Punjabi family one floor above my head and they have been in Madras for over 40 years. Yet they have not assimilated!!!! Sure they are exceptions but these are few and far between. On the other hand, the south have no such assimilation problems in Mumbai or Delhi or even Patiala.

 

Posted in Fiction.

4 comments

By Sathya Narayanan – June 13, 2009


Arnab “lunatic” Goswami

Arnab Goswami tickles the mind in the same way as Mr. Bean; one a master comedian and the other an inadvertent caricature. But both generate the same laughs.

I don't think that there can be a greater proof that this nation stinks that this guy being the 'Chief Editor' of Times Now. The suit is the only thing that complements him; those large frog eyes behind a thick spectacle spoil the good effect of the suit. Instead there is an determined madman look to the man.

Arnab's problem is that he is an evolved stutter; his pitch of voice fluctuates from high to low and he repeats each question twice to ensure that he himself has got it. He gets angry and frowns or gives a stiff look; something this jerk of nature can ill afford. 'Can you look me in the eyes and swear that you don't wish to be the Prime Minister of the country?' Such rank stupidities have earned him a place in the hall of fame. Each time he interviews a international celebrity ' Benazir Bhutto, Shashi Tharoor, Gordon Brown ' I feel palpitations; no one can sink India's reputation faster than our dear old Goswami.

It must be obvious to anyone that this is just not Arnab's line of work. He would have been more in his elements as an one-act jester in a night club. And if he failed to survive the eggs and tomatoes then a behind the scene a comedy writer for one of those innumerable humour shows where Archana fills it with her bell laugh. 

Even when this man pronounces 'Soloman' verdict sitting on that high 'anchor' chair; he looks more ridiculous than threatening. Even if he were to flash a gun at you, your natural instinct would be laugh your pants off and deserving of your sympathy.

These are some memorable recaps: When the Calcutta girl went into hospital from the stress of a reality show, it gave our 'shotgun murugan' an easy target to fire. He told off a judge on prime time news,' There is no point in arguing or justifying. You are wrong Christopher'.

Another day and another shoot!! Arnab lectured, argued and harangued James Otis, the Gandhi memorabilia collector. That conversation looked straight out of a 5th standard classroom. Some gems: ' That is not Gandhi philosophy! You are black-mailing the country!'; such an one-sided diatribe that I felt my stomach churn and ran for cover by switching off the remote. If only he had not been in the news business, he could have made a name for himself as a comedy writer.

To such a distinguished soul, Times Now run promos of 'Frankly Speaking with Arnab Goswami'. If there is any justice in the world, the entire Times group must be liquidated before the show is over. What else can you expect from an anchor with a negative IQ!! He gets to interview Madhuri Dixit, Aamir Khan, SRK and even when the mouth was dripping honey and butter, he was embarassing. But the best was reserved for Sitaram Yechury; who kept smiling and amused by his antics. He did not even attempt to argue with one so stubbornly asinine. Each time Sitaram had something to say or clarify, our popped-eye wonder frog interrupted,' Yes, you are very good at debating Mr.Yechury, but aren't you holding the Government to ranson?' Man get real and stop any journalistic pretensions.

In any conversation, Arnab would drop such pearls that can keep you smiling for rest of the day. In a chat with Praful Patel, our man observed,' Each time I fly to Mumbai, I see so many aircrafts trying to land at the same time from the window of my plane. I really fear a collision'.

Arnab has been in the anchoring racket for a long time; he has mastered the art of interrupting people, sermonizing, and now after the Mumbai blast has even added a pop patriotism to his wares. The cocksure said into the camera, 'Arundhati Roy and Prashant Bhushan, I hope you are watching this. We think you are disgusting”. These days his gestures are more animated; he nearly performs a Bharatanatyam and one wonders to the depravity this society has fallen to. We have lost our ability even to identify lunatics but instead make them news anchors.

To my mind, Arnab will always remind me of a cartoon from my school days: “He-man and the masters of the universe'. The hero is a hunk who would draw the sword and direct it to the sun as it re-charges to a mind-blowing musical score. Arnab looks similar!!

Verdict: Tamas
Lesson to be learnt: Each time you need some laughs switch on to prime Times Now news.

budhoose kanjoose said… 8:19 AM | 14/Jun/09 | |
such guys are better left alone.

Posted in Humour.

9 comments

By Sathya Narayanan – June 12, 2009


Good morning

I first started blogging in rediff in the middle of 2006; I can still recollect the superstars of the day. There was Friendly Ghost, Trishna Mumbai, Sailesh Cowshik, and even a certain Bengali doctor in Africa and quite an exotic name for a place. That was the time when I was really excited about making friends; be it Sudipta or Dee or just about anybody.

It was a phase; I was so acutely tuned into the net for my solace.

Then one outgrows; no longer the blogs wield such an influence. But for me, it was an educational toolkit. I could see some wonderful ideas either botched or just see the variety here. There are a lot of people who take their writing seriously, for most it is an antidote to loneliness or even a retirement filler.

But whatever be the status; there is an amazing breath of fresh air.

Okay, I don’t wish to act more dandy or Churchillian in pontification. I just wished to say “good morning” to  anyone who has followed me closely. I wish to give them a news:

a) My first book - a collection of short stories - is coming out this month. It is titled,” O my darling, India!”. Please don’t go by the pompous title - the publisher had a say here entirely!! - and this book should make for an engaging and humourous reading; even if I should say. So, if you find this book lying hidden in a bookstore, buy it for it is just Rs.300. And if you feel your money cheated, then you know where to ask for a refund.

b) I now blog here: http://observesathya.blogspot.com (it is almost a personal diary) and have a sample blogs site http://writersathya.blogspot.com for prospective employers.

So, it was 3 years from when I first blogged; I had a bad spell of chickengunya and that’s when this addiction started. But you might as well say, I have been cured.

Rgds,

Sathyanarayanan

PS: The book should reach me before the end of this month; on how to procure, I shall myself know better then. Rest assured that I shall keep all informed.

Comments so far:

sajita krishnan said…2:01 PM | 11/Jun/09 | |
Congrats, Sathya. Will surely check it out- is it already on the stands?
 PGR NAIR said…5:20 PM | 9/Jun/09 | |
Dear Sathya…just the other day I thought about you and what is happening in your life. How have you been? Do drop a mail to me with your number. I quickly went through some of your recent posts. Will read them one by one later. Btw, may your book became the No. 1 bestseller in all stalls. I will surely buy a copy if I can get hold of one…..PGR
 budhoose kanjoose said…9:52 PM | 8/Jun/09 | |
essentialy the same text with two different photos

Posted in Personal.

3 comments

By Sathya Narayanan – June 8, 2009