“The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his
pointed nose, made his eyes red, his thin lips blue, and he spoke out shrewdly
in his grating voice…”

                            Charles Dickens of Scrooge in his
work A Christmas Carol

I felt like Scrooge this Onam, miserly
and uninvolved in any happiness.                                

 We were not
celebrating Onam this year alright, as my 94 year-old grandma (mother’s mother)
passed on this year in January. My mother’s sister who was long suffering her
mother and diabetes decided enough was enough and followed her in March. But
that was not the reason for my “dead to the world” demeanour.

My mother lost her husband (my dad) three years ago (August
17) and this year her mother and sister. Luckily for all of us, we stay
together. Except for her new found addiction to television, I didn’t see any other
signs of loneliness in her and that anyway was not the reason for my grouchiness.

Did I inherit the grouchiness factor from dad? My dad didn’t
like functions and celebrations too much. He had seen too much of them as campus
administrator in the school where he had spent most of his life. He hated the
mopping up and getting the place spick and span again so much, that he was
always glad when any function was over (that is) when his job was done. But
then, he always enjoyed having us his kids around him and all functions
including Vishu, Onam, Deepavali, Christmas, Pongal and so on was celebrated
with due reverence and gaiety. So that was not it.

Was it a sick childhood sans joy that caused this
miserliness of spirit? No! I had a happy childhood, and lots of fun. I remember
some Onams for the new gifts and dresses, some for the pookalam, the sadhya,
and many others for the sheer joy of having friends and family together.

My kids were glued to the tv, computer games, and their own
world. New dresses didn’t ignite any spark in them, the sadhya sans chicken and
prawns didn’t entice them. But what they hated most was having a lot of people
around and saying hi and indulging in small talk to the strangers called family.
Like Scrooge, I wondered if these festivities were created to instill guilt in
me, of not giving my kids a feel for the flavour of our heritage.

But then my kids were not the culprits. They were adaptable
and it didn’t take much to coax them to join the fun. What could they do if I
didn’t want the fun? Was it the television programmes? There were mega movies,
talk shows, interviews and what not. I loved my couch and the idiot box. I
could survive four to five hours without too much movement except to the
fingers controlling the remote and shifting of the limbs to avoid sores.

I really don’t know the reason. So lay it on thick folks. I
need to say good bye to the scrooge in me.

How many things can you do in the nude is a book by Ray
Reese published in 1981 by Everest House, New York.  Ray actually interviewed celebrities and
matched wits with them on questions such as things you blow, kiss, put your
fingers into, put your mouth into, things that you find in the kitchen, things
that come in pairs, things that your wear, awkward moments, and so on.

When I asked this question on facebook, my friends Moe,
Deepa Menon and Shalini Narayanan came up with jolly good answers.

Deepa Menon said, “ Most nudists are people you don’t want
to see naked. Heard of a man who didn’t want to wear clothes because it was hot
but wanted to mow the lawn. His wife said,” Please don’t do it, our neighbouts
will think I married you for your money”. Moe said,”Wear clothes, getting
through security checks in a breeze, induce a mass exodus of people to mars,
window clean office buildings, join the pole-vaulting club”. Shalini has
threatened to come up with lists spanning 50 pages.

Some of the answers in the book include the following:

1. Get born

2. Sell insurance

3. Flash

4.Play Doctor

5. Apologize

6.        Become a nudist

7.Shower

8.Your nails

9. Get excited

10. Sing in the bath

11.Giggle

12.   Sleep

I was thinking of a time when the summers were equally hot, and
air-conditioners were a luxury, as much luxury as owning a Maybach 57 S today. My brother 7,
my sister 3 and me 10 would pour buckets of water in our bedroom during the hot
afternoons and play our game of sliding in the water. The game was called “aiyko,
payko po”, a name as much gibberish as spontaneous.

All three of us were in the nude and our first swimming
lessons were learnt there. We would float, slide, backstroke, crawl for a
couple of hours, and refill water whenever required. Our swimming pool spoilt
the furniture, the wall and a lot more, but our mother had a blissful siesta in
all the din. Dad would be at work oblivious to all this.

I had this habit of gulping and spitting water at my brother
and sister. Being smaller, they could not beat me at this game. But they cured
my habit for ever when they pissed into the water. For long, I used to be
suspicious of swimming pools too. Now, guys, I can play the aiyko-payko-po in
the nude, ha, ha. What can you do?

I am still in the reunion mood. I don't twitter, but facebook, linkedin , rediff and other social network sites carry pictures and brief write-ups of our reunion.

I shall not talk much about Jab we met, the classof 84 MCC, twenty five years after graduation. I shall rather look at the pictures and smile, laugh, brood, become emotional or think of the reunion with fond memories of the immediate past and of the 25 plus years. I shall instead let you have a peek at the times we lived in.

The period 1981 to 1984 was replete with plenty of historic events but since we are called the class of 84, I shall focus on the tumultuous and eventful year 1984. Incidentally George Orwell's magnum opus 1984 was not taught to us that year.

But then we had no Orwellian paranoia in 1984. Ronald Reagan was living the role of his life. Indra Gandhi was at the helm of affairs for her 15^th year as prime minister and MGR was voted to power after the assembly elections held in 1984 for the third time. (Of course my dream space in black and white has a picture of the then CM of Kerala K Karunakaran giving me the best midfielder award).

But then we had no inkling in the beginning of 1984 that the aftermath of Operation Bluestar in June 1984 will lead to the assassination of Indra Gandhi in October of that year or that MGR would be chief minister in absentia, diagnosed with kidney failure, (undergoing treatment in a Brooklyn hospital). Personally, the troubled times in Punjab cost me a trip with the Indian University team to Hongkong as the camp at Patiala was called off. I never got that chance again.

Even as we were preparing for our final exams in April, Rakesh Sharma awed us by becoming the first Indian to fly in space aboard Soyuz T 11. The best of Michael Jackson belonged to our times. He had moon walked in 1983 and gave the world his Thriller and beat everyone to it, 8 Grammy awards in 1984.

Socially, we were backward or at least that is what my kids tell me. For them we were from the Stone Age. We had a black and white portable TV, bought primarily to watch the 1982 Asian games. The only channel available was Doordharshan and the mindless song and dance sequence that is 24/7 today was prime time and the most coveted and sought after programme of the time. Many a youngster has asked me, "how did you guys manage to fall and stay in love without cell phones and SMS". We managed and rather well.  Provoked, I had only one answer for all of them, "you do not teach your grandfather to make children".

The summer Olympics of 1984 was at Los Angels. It was a total Carl Lewis show (4 gold's), though I do remember Daley Thompson the decathlete too. France won the football gold in Olympics that year. Michael Jordan made his name - the dream team was formed with some members of the US basketball team of the year.  In cricket, India had won the World cup . SMG and Kapil Dev were the legends of the time, though I personally like Gundappa Vishwanath.

Back home, during my college days, Kamal and Rajni were the biggest names in tamil cinema. Illayaraja was at his melodious best. The big B was the king of all he surveyed. The popular English movies of the year were Ghost Busters, Terminator, and Karate Kid though I remember watching Gods Must be Crazy and Police Academy at the local cinemas. It took me two more years before I read Iacocca's "Autobiography" though I read the popular Mario Puzzo's 1984 offering, Sicilian.

Finally as the year 1984 drew to a close, the Bhopal gas tragedy struck. Unlike today, we had no call centre jobs waiting for us or BPO's. IT was not in. The future looked challenging.

It is almost a week now after the reunion and most of us are back to the grind of everyday existence. What I liked best about the reunion was the mellowing and spirit of friendship today sans the cut-throat competitiveness of yesteryears. I am thrilled that all my class/college mates are doing well in life. I look forward to the golden reunion in 2034.

Whew! Time flies. What do you remember of your days at MCC? I was thinking of this question that Don, our senior and creator of the classof1984@mcc.com asked.

I asked Vijay my eldest son, ” Have you heard of Indra Nooyi. She is from MCC”. He looked at me, a look that said, ” So what?”. So I shall let that pass.

We the class of 84 will soon be unofficially celebrating 25 years of completing our graduation. The reunion in August is truly one. I have not seen many of my class mates since moving on. I hope they carry a name badge. I surely shall. The class of 81 MCC School reunion was a memorable one.

I remember the first three days of initiation by fire. We the freshers, junior pissa kattans, ( Kattan means forest dweller  It also means unrefined, uncouth) were being ragged( give the dog a name and kill it) into becoming refined, polished gentlemen ( the guys passing out of MCC were called Gentlemen of MCC). In comparison, the guys from Loyola grimaced at being called Slaves of Loyola. Those from Pachayappa’s were Rowdies. Only the Presidency College had something better than what we did. They were called the princes of presidency.

The free hours ( remember no more periods, some one said, your reach menopause in college) were spent in the ditches near the cafe. The cafe was the first place I  had beef. Many of the guys in the cafe were mallus, one was from my town near cherpalacherry and all of them were football lovers.

What else do I remember. Oh, of course being lucky having six friends from school ( Thomo, Babu, Arul, Sai, Pappan, Michael) in the same class in college. I remember passionately chasing the soccer ball while most of my college  friends were busy chasing dreams, girls, guys, careers and not in that order.. I have this theory that school friends last longer than college friends.

I remember being part of the college soccer team from the first year, of practicing hard with Philip Naka, Devasigamani, Shammem, Bahman, Modelley and so on. My biggest achievement was playing for the University of Madras in the third year and being crowned the best midfielder in South India.

I remember Sai and I taking a walk to the lake.You see MCC had a 600 acre campus. It had a lake, a farm, and about ten football size playgrounds, four hostels, an international guesthouse, residences for professors and staff. Sylvan is a word to describe my alma mater. On this occassion, it started raining and there was no shelter nearby. So we got wet and walked back. One professor, I forget his name, was blissfully getting wet in the rain outside his house in the garden, and still continuing to water his plants. Even to this date, Sai and I have cramps doubling up with laughter thinking of it.

I remember Viju and I cycling to the beach and running very near the water barefoot. He of the famous bear hug almost crushed me till I fainted.  I remember the train journeys from Tambaram to Chetput with Arun, Stephen, Regi, Sekar and many others. I remember Jo Tom and his music. His ‘hole in the bucket’ song was awesome. But I remember him for being a friend and for teaching me a lesson. I was too lazy to change a two buck note. I offered a discount of 25 paise to him if he offered me the change. He made as if he was taking out the change but pocketed my two bucks all the way to the cafe, where he got change, kept his 25 paise and made me follow him doing all this. I could have done this myself.

I remember Sandra and Jo my good pals. Sandra called me onion, which I explained to her was younger brother in Malayalam and she kept at it.

I remember that I learnt more outside the classrooms of MCC than within. Yes, the college gave me confidence to face the world. We had some great profs too.Prof Swaminathan who went out of the way to help me get admission. I liked his lectures. He was brilliant and taught us to think.You couldnt write an exam listening to him. But he spoke of the real world which lesser teachers couldnt.  I also liked Prof Rajkumar for his ‘pacing about’ lectures. We became great friends after I left college. He offered me a position on the faculty when he became head of the department. It is another story that I didnt join him. I also liked Prof ChandraDas for his interest in football. He was very friendly on the ground, but that didnt translate into internal marks.

I remember eating at Pappan’s place many times with friends. He stayed inside the campus and his dad was also the controller of exams. Thomo, o captain, my captain and Babu gave up football after school, but were my best pals, always supportive of me.

I look forward to the reunion. So much water and muck has flowed down the river of life since those wonderful days.

My sister stood still. A Great Dane galloped towards her, barking. It was an open playfield. She had nowhere to hide. She stood still and turned her eyes away from the dog. The screaming owner of the dog was a good hundred feet away. The dog sniffed her, dragged itself back a few yards, barked at her, sniped at her legs and repeated the maneuver thrice.

For a ten year old, my sister was well-trained and had her wits about her. She remembered sage words of advice from my father a trained dog -handler. "Never run, when a dog is chasing you'. She stood still, face turned away from the dog.Actually she was so terrified that she had blacked out for a second. The dog piqued, lifted its legs, pissed on her and went its way.

Was it piqued at the lost opportunity of chasing her, or was it marking its territory. The event made a big mark on our family history. The story is passed around from generation to generation and at almost every family get together. My sister now a school teacher is never able to suppress a giggle hearing doggie stories from her little wards.

What is it with dogs that they chase anything and everything that runs? I have had street dogs chase my mobike, and car. I have seen them run at cows, other dogs and humans. Flame my Golden Retriever is crazy about the tennis ball. He is wedded to it. He can be without food and sleep but not the ball. He can find it wherever I hide it inside the house and his only mission in life is to get me to play with him.

Recently in Chennai, tragically and it should never happen to anyone, a boy lost his life chased by a dog. The boy was celebrating his exam results on the terrace of a fourth floor apartment when he saw the German shepherd. He ran as fast as his twelve year old legs could and in panic fell over the wall.

My heart goes out to the family of the boy. Also to the owner of the dog who was arrested for not having the dog on leash. I am sure the dog had no intention of causing the boy any harm. All dogs love a good chase and snipe. I know, I have four dogs at home. My dad has had fourteen injections due to dog bites and I have been chased and bitten by a dog at my friend’s. But then I have seen terror on the faces of my neighbours and unsuspecting visitors when confronted by snarling dogs. What about the boy who was so terrified and panic stricken. What wrong did he do.

It is a pity that man's best friend has become a villain too. Dogs do provide wonderful company to the old and lonely, to the not-so-outgoing young etc. I guess owners need to take better care of their dogs.

Is it not one big irony of life that the cold, calculating, and ruthless world of money and stocks depends and thrives on sentiments?

Whoever coined the word Real Estate deserves an award. I wonder what is real at all in that world. Greed perhaps. In all the scams of the world, you will find the unreal greed for the land real. Of course in all the riches of the world too, you will find it. Perhaps the only exception being a certain Bill G.

The talk in the air today is of depression, job losses, unpaid mortgages and gloom. And elections around the corner don't help at all. God save us if it is a hung parliament.

On the flip side, I see a lot of to-let boards, a lot less arrogance on the face of land lords, and a grudging respect for employers from the young turks.

All this got me thinking on the old Tamil saying, "Nadhi moolam , Rishi moolam ketka koodathu". This loosely translated means, don't enquire into the origins of the river or the saint.

The message is loud and clear. Move on. Don't hang on to the past. Don't bother so much about humble origins. Don't read too much meaning into past glories or past sins.  The great saint Valmiki who wrote the Ramayana was a lowly robber before he turned a new leaf. Many great rivers have their origins in humble ice cubes.

As an aside, of course, both saints (Chandraswami etc)and rivers (Cauvery etc) have caused us enough grief. Again as an aside I have met the much despised Raju albeit briefly and liked him a lot.

As all performers know, their last performance is forgotten by the paying public as soon as it over. When they pay again, they expect performance.

Likewise judge a player, a performer, an employee or company by his/its future and not by his/its past alone. I guess we need to get over the ” my grandpa had an elephant” hang ups. Anyway life is a cycle.