“Please sit down here,” said the old man at the Bank in a classic case of role reversal. The younger man was being offered a seat by an elderly person. The younger man was none other thane me while the old man was one of many who displayed the kinder side of life to me for about three months last year.
The reason for this was that a fall in my office had resulted in a torn ligament. Thanks to modern surgical shoes I was quickly up and about. While the surgical shoes got me back on my feet quickly, they could not camouflage my discomfort. Add to this the fact that I had to often walk around with a stick and the world had ceased to be a stage and had become more of an oyster as I was largely confined to home.
Indeed the old man was not the only person who displayed this side of life to me during my short travails. On the rare occasion that I stepped out o f my house, the people in my building (mostly the elderly) wondered how I was managing since they had seen me take my brisk morning walk regularly. One of them said,”Tumhe nazar lag gayee,” meaning that an evil eye had befallen me. Even that much maligned species, Mumbai’s autowallas often melted enough to ferry me over short distances or literally go the extra mile.
I have now resumed my walks and my life. As I look back, I am filled with a sense of gratitude to all those who conveyed their good wishes to me during a rather trying period. And who can forget Nimish, Gurdeep and Vidhata the three original angels who ferried me to hospital after my fall in the office or my boss Srini who lent his car for the purpose.
This tribute to the kinder side of life would not be complete without a special reference to my friend Deepak. Early on in my treatment, a decision had to be made as to whether I should opt for the surgical shoes which entailed a sizeable investment or opt for the conventional cast. All of us friends when we have a medical problem immediately get in touch with Deepak. Sure enough, I was dialing Deepak and he had the answer as usual. “Ravi, I know you. You are incapable of sitting still and being in a cast will hamper your movements no end. This will totally demoralize you. Forget the cost, just opt for the shoe,” he said. That decided it. Needles to say that Deepak’s words were prophetic and his advice was based as much on the psychology of the individual as on medicine. Looking back, I must say that being mobile made a huge difference to my treatment. And it was more mental than physical. In the immortal words of Jeeves, Deepak the best doctor to walk the planet without a formal medical degree had grasped “the psychology of the individual.” Thank you Jeeves, I mean Deepak.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
The Eighties: More than just “Ooh la la” and Oomph
I am a great fan of the relatively new music channel Sony Mix which is devoted exclusively to music. A few days back I was watching their programme “Hits of the Eighties” and was waiting for one of the so –called songs that defined the eighties. The films of the eighties have been a lot in the news thanks to “The Dirty Picture”. The movie is not only supposed to be a biopic on the late Silk Smita but also some kind of a reminder if not a tribute to the eighties. ‘Ooh La La from “The Dirty Picture” has become some kind of an anthem to the eighties. In short the movie and the song have become a symbol for some very crude music\movies and by extension the eighties.
I do not dispute for a moment that the mid-eighties was the most vulgar era in the history of Indian cinema. This period is best remembered for the movies\songs featuring Jeetendra-Sridevi-Jayaprada. Crass commercialism conceptualized vulgar art. The majority of the movie halls were badly maintained which made the average middle class family think twice before venturing into them. Add to this a disruptive technology called the video cassette recorder or VCR (It was indeed disruptive although in today’s era of movie downloads it may seem like an antique piece) which allowed people to view the latest movies at home thanks to piracy. The only way producers and theatre owners could make money was to make movies for the lowest common denominator who would flock to the theatres as they had little or no access to these new VCRs.
Now to get back to my original point, I was awaiting some of the songs of the “vulgar” era. What I got instead was gems like “Neela Aasman So Gaya” (Silsila); “Dikhaayi Diye Yun” (Bazaar) (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVsIxzMgwVY); “Sheesha Ho ya Dil Ho” (Aasha); “Hazaar Raahein” (Thodisi Bewafai); and “Sun Sun Didi Tere Liye Ek Rishta Aaya Hai” (Khoobsurat). What you have is as good a collection of Hindi songs as any. There are some other songs as well from the eighties from movies like Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak- “Hai Mere Humsafar;” “Dil Deewana Bin Sajana Ke Mane Na” from Maine Pyar Kiya; the party song of the eighties “Ek Do Teen”(Tezaab) and not to forget “Kahdo ke Tume Meri Varna” as well as “So Gaya Yeh Jahaan”from the same movie. Can anyone forget the immortal “Mujhe Tum Yaad Karna” from Mashal or “Sun Sahiba Sun” from Ram Teri Ganga Maili which was another landmark in the career of Lata Mangeshkar. The list can go on really. The point that I am trying to make is that if “Ooh La La” is one reality of the eighties so was “Dekha Ek Khwab” from Silsila. If it was the era of a Bhappi Lahiri, it was also the era that saw Shiv-Hari compose music for Silsila and Chandni. Granted “Ooh La La” was the dominant theme of the eighties but by no means the only one. And Thank You Sony Mix for helping put things in context.
I do not dispute for a moment that the mid-eighties was the most vulgar era in the history of Indian cinema. This period is best remembered for the movies\songs featuring Jeetendra-Sridevi-Jayaprada. Crass commercialism conceptualized vulgar art. The majority of the movie halls were badly maintained which made the average middle class family think twice before venturing into them. Add to this a disruptive technology called the video cassette recorder or VCR (It was indeed disruptive although in today’s era of movie downloads it may seem like an antique piece) which allowed people to view the latest movies at home thanks to piracy. The only way producers and theatre owners could make money was to make movies for the lowest common denominator who would flock to the theatres as they had little or no access to these new VCRs.
Now to get back to my original point, I was awaiting some of the songs of the “vulgar” era. What I got instead was gems like “Neela Aasman So Gaya” (Silsila); “Dikhaayi Diye Yun” (Bazaar) (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVsIxzMgwVY); “Sheesha Ho ya Dil Ho” (Aasha); “Hazaar Raahein” (Thodisi Bewafai); and “Sun Sun Didi Tere Liye Ek Rishta Aaya Hai” (Khoobsurat). What you have is as good a collection of Hindi songs as any. There are some other songs as well from the eighties from movies like Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak- “Hai Mere Humsafar;” “Dil Deewana Bin Sajana Ke Mane Na” from Maine Pyar Kiya; the party song of the eighties “Ek Do Teen”(Tezaab) and not to forget “Kahdo ke Tume Meri Varna” as well as “So Gaya Yeh Jahaan”from the same movie. Can anyone forget the immortal “Mujhe Tum Yaad Karna” from Mashal or “Sun Sahiba Sun” from Ram Teri Ganga Maili which was another landmark in the career of Lata Mangeshkar. The list can go on really. The point that I am trying to make is that if “Ooh La La” is one reality of the eighties so was “Dekha Ek Khwab” from Silsila. If it was the era of a Bhappi Lahiri, it was also the era that saw Shiv-Hari compose music for Silsila and Chandni. Granted “Ooh La La” was the dominant theme of the eighties but by no means the only one. And Thank You Sony Mix for helping put things in context.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Balu the Bull
“Balu the Bull, eats stomach full”, chimed a bunch of teenagers including (yours truly) hovering between the ages of 15 and 17.
The Balu in question being no bull but a well built young lad of around 15 with a good measure of adipose thrown in. Not all adipose but a certain amount of muscle too which used to deter us boys from going too far. The combined effect of muscle and adipose was to give the impression of a man who enjoyed his food and consequently beat the inflation rate quite comfortably.
Balu or G Balasubramaniam was my hostel mate at the Hindu Senior Secondary School, Chennai where I studied from the eighth to tenth standard between 1978 to 1981. Balu was two years older than me and a bright student. He also loved reading books. Thanks to Balu I was introduced to Forsyth’s immortal work “The Day of the Jackal” and the definitive book on the mafia “The Godfather” by Mario Puzo. Balu would read excerpts from these novels while me and another hostel mate Muthu listened with rapt attention. These readings were conducted during study our in our room. All I can say in mitigation is that at least we read while the majority of the hostel mates pretended to be engrossed in studying while all they were waiting for was the dinner gong.
Apart from introducing me to the great works of crime fiction Balu occasionally helped me with my studies as well. Balu, me and Muthu formed a trio who were well regarded by the warden as well as the students. Looking back I can say with some pride that we did manage to raise the bar as far as education standards where concerned in the hostel.
There is one incident which standouts in my mind. One of my relatives Kavita (another teenager) used to visit me quite often in the hostel. Now the rumour was that Balu had developed a soft corner for this girl. My protective instincts were aroused. Friendship was secondary to the cause of protecting the members of the fairer sex. I did not know how to deal with the situation. I began to keep an eye on Balu. The next time I thought that the Bull was on a prowl I began following him. Balu I think cottoned on and led me to a merry dance. Apart from, a little pain in my legs nothing really came off the exercise. The bull of course gave me a huge grin. As subsequent events were to prove my doubts were entirely unfounded and the whole story in journalistic parlance was nothing more than a plant designed for an audience of one-me.
Soon after Balu alas completely disappeared from my life. After his Class X examinations, he left the hostel. Apart from a chance meeting near Bangalore station, I haven’t seen Balu for over a quarter century. The memories of the man who introduced me to Michael Corleone and the chacal (French for Jackal) however refuse to fade. As Don Corleone said in The Godfather, ”Everyman has but one destiny”. Balu I guess is pursuing his while I am pursuing mine and our paths may never cross again.
The Balu in question being no bull but a well built young lad of around 15 with a good measure of adipose thrown in. Not all adipose but a certain amount of muscle too which used to deter us boys from going too far. The combined effect of muscle and adipose was to give the impression of a man who enjoyed his food and consequently beat the inflation rate quite comfortably.
Balu or G Balasubramaniam was my hostel mate at the Hindu Senior Secondary School, Chennai where I studied from the eighth to tenth standard between 1978 to 1981. Balu was two years older than me and a bright student. He also loved reading books. Thanks to Balu I was introduced to Forsyth’s immortal work “The Day of the Jackal” and the definitive book on the mafia “The Godfather” by Mario Puzo. Balu would read excerpts from these novels while me and another hostel mate Muthu listened with rapt attention. These readings were conducted during study our in our room. All I can say in mitigation is that at least we read while the majority of the hostel mates pretended to be engrossed in studying while all they were waiting for was the dinner gong.
Apart from introducing me to the great works of crime fiction Balu occasionally helped me with my studies as well. Balu, me and Muthu formed a trio who were well regarded by the warden as well as the students. Looking back I can say with some pride that we did manage to raise the bar as far as education standards where concerned in the hostel.
There is one incident which standouts in my mind. One of my relatives Kavita (another teenager) used to visit me quite often in the hostel. Now the rumour was that Balu had developed a soft corner for this girl. My protective instincts were aroused. Friendship was secondary to the cause of protecting the members of the fairer sex. I did not know how to deal with the situation. I began to keep an eye on Balu. The next time I thought that the Bull was on a prowl I began following him. Balu I think cottoned on and led me to a merry dance. Apart from, a little pain in my legs nothing really came off the exercise. The bull of course gave me a huge grin. As subsequent events were to prove my doubts were entirely unfounded and the whole story in journalistic parlance was nothing more than a plant designed for an audience of one-me.
Soon after Balu alas completely disappeared from my life. After his Class X examinations, he left the hostel. Apart from a chance meeting near Bangalore station, I haven’t seen Balu for over a quarter century. The memories of the man who introduced me to Michael Corleone and the chacal (French for Jackal) however refuse to fade. As Don Corleone said in The Godfather, ”Everyman has but one destiny”. Balu I guess is pursuing his while I am pursuing mine and our paths may never cross again.
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