ACHAYI

November 30^th 2012. Mr O.K CHACKO (name changed) alias ACHAYI retired from the Kerala PWD after some three decades of meritorious service. Yesterday Achayi telephoned  and invited Susan and me for a small party in the evening at his residence. I was told that the party will begin at 5 in the evening.  On reaching the quiet hamlet of Thottakkad where Achayi lived, we had a big surprise waiting for us. “Small party”, I wondered. Such a big “pandal” for a small party?? More surprises were to follow.  Instead of the close relatives and friends like me, I found the entire Kerala PWD there !!! They all have come there leading Achu to the place where he belonged to. Every one looked very jubilant. Groups of people inside and outside the pandal were engaged in a variety of activities. From bla  bla bla to ‘shairy’ to music, every group was busy, not interfering with the activities of other groups. The Karaoke assisted music group was the most noisy !!! A group of some five ‘musicians’ was valiantly fighting Baburaj, Devarajan master or Dakshinamurthy swamy, .Relentless, the group of five, ‘sang ’in five sruthy, five tunes and a ‘mishra chapala (!)’ tal. There could not have been a better display of unity in diversity. Various groups and the common thread was inebriation !!! Seeing all these celebrations anyone would have loved to retire. Anyway what was on display was the enviable, unmatched and honest PWD Brotherhood. I wanted to bow my head before this unity but I didn't, as those standing there (some were sitting and yet  others were in 'sawasana') were  in obscurity !!!

I turned a little pensive and thought of my retirement. May 31^st, 2012. When I walked out of the Physics department of CMS college at about 4-30 pm on that day, there was none to see me off. While going down the wooden staircase , I thought of the day I first went up those stairs on August 17^th, 1981 following Prof Mohan Kurien. I did not expect anybody there to see me leaving. But today watching in awe the way Achayi was escorted to his place by the entire Kottayam PWD office in a Princely way, I could only envy him.
Did I lament in my mind "at least one of my students of 31 years could have been there"??
Gita Bakshi was my student during 1984-85. A passionate writer, she had wrote to me that she would like to meet me and talk to me. This she did during early 2012 and I wrote back, "Gita, I shall wait for you at the department of Physics, CMS college till 4 pm of the 31st of May 2012. Yes, that will be the time when I will be shown the door". I heard the door  shut behind me, but Gita was nowhere in sight. She could have come, no?? But then, why single out Gita. Any one of those avowed "followers" could have..................

Late News
December 1st.
By mid night even those in 'sawasana' resurrected  to join the mid night rally  through the village road of an otherwise sleepy  Thottakkad with slogans like "Thottakkadin Romancham, O.K Chacko Zindabad".
Now....now, I feel like shouting.....PWD Zindabad !!! I wish I were in the PWD so that I could have retired like a Prince instead of  in desolation.

TUMMY TUMMY MATTERS

Yes. Tummy matters. Just think. Anything matters as much as the tummy matters? Probably not.

It was the evening of 4th of October 2012. While driving the Kanjikkuzhi-Collectorate  strip of the KK road inside Kottayam town I saw a huge crowd on the road a little before the Plantation Corporation office. Seeing a posse of police men I murmured, "another accident?". But, as I approached the crowd, I found it very ecstatic and the police men very relaxed. And to my left I saw an extravagant display of illuminations. Those fools crying foul over  the power crunch in the state should see this and feel happy over the "fact" we have enough and more. So much, more than needed, that we should waste quite a bit. I tried to stop my car and find out what was happening. But a policeman waved violently meaning "get lost".  I obliged, but not before reading the Neon-lighted "PIZZA MAX". It was the inauguration of another branded eatery in this small little town of big people with bigger wallets.

Today, 6th October,2012. I drove the same route. 8 PM. In a glance, I could read the satisfaction and sense of accomplishment(!) on the faces of those coming out of the new "Cape of Good Hope" and the anxiety writ large on the faces of those waiting outside. "Were they starving all these years?" I asked myself. I know that soon I too have to be there as I don't want to let down Anna. Being one of the first visitors to a place, be it a restaurant or a textile shop or a jewelry shop or a barber shop, on the day of inauguration itself is the fad of the day.

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Year 2000 or so. We (Anna, Renjan, Susan and I) were spending a week end  at Kochi. We stayed at the Bharath Tourist Home (BTH). In the evening we were walking through the MG road and suddenly I felt hungry. This often happens. I am hungry when others are not. We were near the Maharaja's college ground and we found a board "Chicking". The Rooster on the board suggested that it is an eatery. Those were the days when branded restaurants were a rarity.Those days "KFC" would have meant "Kappa Fish Curry" for someone like me (Kappa= Tapioca). We entered "Chicking" and I lost no time in ordering a Masala Dosa for me.The handsome young boy who attended us ready to take our order looked shaken as if struck by a lightning. I still remember him staring in disbelief with his eyes glued on to me as if seeing some one of the bronze age.

An ABBA variant rang in my ears.

TUMMY, TUMMY, TUMMY

MUST BE FUNNY,

IN THE CHICKING WORLD!!!

THE FIVE STAR ESCAPADE

On the 7th of February 2012, Renjan took Susan and me to a five-star hotel in Kumarakom. He wanted to make it big as it was the 25th wedding anniversary of his parents.

I feel like writing on the charm of Kumarakom but let me restrict myself to the five-star experience. I need not tell you of the exotic ambience of a luxury hotel. And, if you know me, I need not tell you that I was feeling like a fish out of the pond. Yet I remained excited (and hopeful) at the thought of some yummy food. It was time for lunch and I searched the typical "meals ready" board but was to be found nowhere. Inside the restaurant I scrolled through the tempting menu which boasted of native food  to Chinese to continental. I announced my decision for Kerala meals (oonu).  After some browsing I saw "plain rice" in one page. In another page was "Avial". Else where there was "Sambar" and so on.  Each item was followed by a three digit number. "Some code number", I told others with authority. But soon to my shock I realised that the 500 following "Avial' was its cost in Indian currency. A small bowl of "Moru Kachiathu" just for 450 ! That I didn't faint is a mystery. Probably I was dreaming of the most tasty food over the globe soon appearing before me.

And the story begins. All the items appeared on the table and I "approached" the "Moru Kachiathu" (MK) with great reverence. When it tasted like anything but MK I blamed my taste buds. When "Avial" too disappointed I excused my taste buds. When "Sambar' turned out to be an apology for it I realised  that my taste buds are as sensitive as ever. The MK in any small little road side hotel anywhere in Kerala should be hundred times better. I thought of Thomas Chettan of the PG hostel and Thomachan of the CMS college canteen. What they serve without any tom-toming was the real taste of the land. Disappointed with the oonu, I encroached into Renjan's plate to grab a little "Bhatura". "Bhatura this"? I exclaimed. I felt like kneeling before the old man wearing a Gandhi-cap on the Agra cantonment railway station platform who was a bhatura vendor. It was in 1977 that I first had a taste of bhatura from this man. He kept shouting "Chole Bhature" even as he was busy making them to meet the ever increasing demand-supply gap. That old man cannot be alive today, but the taste still lingers on my tongue. (The next best Bhatura, I had in Renja's company at an Allahabad hotel in 2010. I forgot the name of the hotel).

Having expressed my disappointment and anguish, I think, I should be a little realistic. The place is not for people like me. (But there is no harm if MK tastes like MK??). The place is for the Forbes listed Indians and not for "native indians". Let them pay @ 500 for MK and those dishes with vernacular names but insulting tastes !!!

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After the five star escapade, I escaped into India from that island of luxury. Back on Indian soil a terrific idea flashed through my brain. You are sure to exclaim "what an idea sirji"!! After reading this (indeed it will be read) Jaipal Reddy is sure to summon me to Delhi to hear more of this brand. Poor fellow is struggling with the oil bills.

Now the fantastic Idea.

The rich and the super rich pay 500 for MK at luxury hotels. Let them. In fact they should. Now let us extend this argument to other places, for instance, the petrol station. Some come there on their "Hamara Bajaj". Even the ageless "Lamby" may be seen there.  Yet others come driving Audi or BMW. Let there be a differential price structure. Why should the Audi-man paying 500 for a small bowl of MK get petrol or diesel at subsidised rates? Why should the Audi-man indiscriminately contributing to global warming in a variety of ways be encouraged to do that with government subsidy??

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After my retirement from CMS college, with nothing to do, such fantastic ideas come fleeting to my mind.

What can I do?

Will someone find a job for me???