THE MESSENGERS OF GOD

          From serials and movies to some extent in the real world, old people are always seen as the creatures to be thrown into some old – age homes to facilitate the so – called undisturbed, peaceful living of the next generation. “I can’t stand this. Dump these old people in some unknown place. I don’t care”, is one of the most common dialogues of Tamil serials (oops.. sorry, mega serials) Either the husband or wife would be uttering these words with a tone of hatred and discomfort clearly evident from their voice due to the presence of their mother – in – law and father – in – law. And echoing it, most of the old people, post – retirement, only want to spend their lives resting in a chair, gossiping and reading magazines. But, here is a distinguished couple who seem to be the only hope for animals.

          Now, let’s see a bit about the current world with respect to protection of animals. It’s a rare combination of very sensitive Blue Cross volunteers, who want the animals to live in peace but would never mind about human lives and the cruel, ruthless human beings, who would kill animals ranging from kittens to elephants for everything like merry – making, meat – making and money – making.

          Free from all these contraries, there is a full – fledged home, literally, to provide shelter to stray and diseased animals. Yes! It’s all about the AWPT – Animal Welfare and Protection Trust. Mr. Narasimhamoorthy, a retired RBI employee and Mrs. Padmavathy, his spouse, have continuously been crusading the cause of animal protection, not just in terms of word, but in practice. I happened to meet this Jehovah in the Leo Utsav – 2015, the annual festival of the Leo Club of CEG, of which I am a part. He had been invited as the Chief Guest for the inauguration ceremony and I was asked to prepare a welcome note with the help of a website, www.awptrust.org

          “What the hell!” was my first thought and reluctantly I opened the site. Surprise awaited me as the top of homepage displayed some cute pictures of puppies and kittens with tags, Adopt, Donate, Sponsor and Volunteer. Curiosity got the better of me and I started going through each and every tab and information. When I was finished, the feeling of being awestruck occupied me.

          A gist: An old couple are protecting animals with adequate medical facilities and cosy shelter. They spend their entire source of income for the welfare of these five – sensed creatures by treating them effectively with Animal Birth Control (ABC) surgeries under the control of expert veterinarians. Though they face a lot of monetary and societal problems, they continue their service. They never want to come to the limelight and are very much contended with what they do. Their services have been recognized by associations like Lions Club of Chennai and the Chennai Rotary and eminent personalities such as our former Chief Minister, Selvi. Jayalalithaa and former Governor Honbl. Surjith Singh Barnala.

          With all the information, when I looked at the bottom of the page, I was electrified to find that the site had last been updated in the year 2009. I started admiring them because had they filled the page with instant notifications on what they did in these six years 2009 – 2014, the website could have gone viral and they would’ve got more attention and attraction in the media.

          Since I had got enough data for my speech, I glossed it with some of the proverbs and sayings and voila, it was ready! The next day, I presented it in a way which satisfied me. When the Chief Guest, Mr. Narasimhamoorthy was invited to speak, he started with a calm, shaky voice. I can assure that he could not have spoken more than 250 words there but each word was worth being chiselled in the form of inscriptions. “People ask me why I care for animals to this extent. Human beings can express their feeling of pain, sorrow and suffering and ask others for help. But, these animals cannot. Helping and serving animals are the noblest virtues.”

          He asked us to visit the Sanctuary, as it is known, at least once. So, we went there today not before encountering the usual hassles of travelling around Chennai. We boarded the wrong buses, we got down some stops before and had to walk quite some distance. Eventually, when we entered there, all our tiredness due to the hot sun disappeared and the supreme feeling of heart – pounding joy filled us. The smell of cat and dog hairs greeted us into the Worldly Heaven. I could sense the divinity there as even the dogs barked in a manner, which was significantly different from the usual noises a dog make on seeing a stranger. This was the indication that they had got the feeling humans are really hospitable to them, courtesy their atmosphere. What surprised me more was the dogs and cats played with each other, preening the tails and jumping over here and there. While the cats were afraid for some time initially, dogs readily nestled and sat on our laps, eager to receive some pats and harnesses.

          As Mr. Narasimhamoorthy had earlier stated, Mrs. Padmavathy was happier than him on our visit. She treated us well and began explaining the course of their development in with a baby’s enthusiasm. Meanwhile, he showed us the photocopies, scanned pictures and photo albums of the earlier activities, which really moved me. Some of the letters received from various people from across the city were praising him as God’s Messenger. Really thrilling to view was the photograph which showed the removal of tumour from a cow’s brain. When we went around the home, I could see a caged crow, which had been recently injured in a leg. Since it is practically impossible for it move, leaving it free would lead to peril.

          Food is kept in bowls almost in every corner of the home and the animals are not restricted to eat whenever they wish to. The utmost affection and care towards these non – verbal species is evident in the way they keep separate compartments for dry food, cooked rice, milk and snacks. Kittens could be seen sleeping in their living room and on the beds. Notably, both the Managing Trustees, as they are legally described, are 65+.

          After some emotional moments, when we finally prepared ourselves to depart, we donated some amount (I’ve been advised not to mention it here). He received it with thankfulness but reinstated that more than money, the continuous arrival and visits of guests is always the encouraging tonic that keeps them going.

          I can tell only one thing to those health – conscious, hygienic people. Touching And Growing Animals In Your House or In Your Locality Won’t Affect Your Health. Please Do Not Restrict Animal Entry Into Your Posh Apartments. Feed Them and Make Them Live. Because, We’re Nothing More Than Modifications Of Monkeys.

SURYA NAGAR - THE MOST INTRIGUING PARADOX

          By the time I write this, I still have record and observations to complete before sleeping, not to forget the boring classes to be attended tomorrow of which even the Almighty would scare. Still, this has to be mentioned and this deserves a special mention. SURYA NAGAR, the secret kingdom of Narnia right behind College of Engineering, Guindy, Anna University. But, this Narnia doesn’t hold much fantasy; it is surrounded by miseries. The situation could be described to any layman through the words of one of the old ladies out there. “You people come from various parts of the country and go out with flying colours from Anna University. We people, with these many children in and around this locality, have not even produced the rarest gem of a kind who has studied at this temple.” Yeah, she meant the word ‘temple’ and I was suddenly taken aback by this striking reality.

          Surya Nagar can easily be imagined and compared with the Aththippatti of Citizen or the Thannooththu of Kaththi (Some people criticize my usage of Tamil movies here and there, stating it is very local. For them, I don’t care if I am local. This is my place, my locality and I belong here. I can’t quote Hollywood feature films which ordinary mass can’t relate to) There are these houses, which, according to me are point buildings (Oh, this is the 8^th grade definition of a 2 mark question, What is a point? “A point is a miniscule region which has neither a starting position nor an ending one.”) No exaggerations, here! In most of the houses, it is difficult to calculate and differentiate between the entrance and backyard. (To be precise, most, if not, almost all houses are practically the size of my hostel room; People from CEG have an easier perspective now) The streets cannot accommodate more than one two – wheeler at a time. I bet even the most skilled stunt professional cannot perform dual bike acrobatics here. There are no supermarkets, no wholesale grocery shops, no cars, no bungalows, no air – conditioned houses (I am not sure if every house at least has a ceiling fan), nothing. For us middle – classes, there is nothing practically. But, there is life with mediocrity; there are human beings with unfulfilled expectations and aspirations – students longing for a school, graduates or diploma holders in want of a job that would at least be able to feed their family with no expectation about savings, old people wanting to live in a more comfortable place that doesn’t leak during rains, that withstands the rigorous heat of the sun, that allows them to at least die in peace. The most sophisticated house in Surya Nagar would not even match the lower middle class apartment of Central Chennai. Behold! There lives a society which is unknown and oblivious of the posh metropolitan full of malls and multiplexes.

          The first time I went there was in my second semester of college of life, precisely in March 2014. We, as part of Leo Club of CEG, had gone there to explain the nuances of tackling the higher secondary state board examinations, which, according to the parents of students, was nothing but a milestone. When we sat with some students to know their situation, I was taken to the extremity of electrocution, as most 10^th standard children found it difficult to solve multiplication tables beyond 7; some couldn’t even cross 5. I explained them with the ‘pen at a shop’ method, which my elementary teacher had told us during my school days in order to make us understand how multiplication works. The story goes like this: You go to a shop and buy a pen for 10 rupees. If your friend buys 10 pens of the same type, what would be its total cost?, for which we would all sing in chorus, “Ten ones are ten; ten twos are twenty; …….; ten tens are hundred.” Praise poured upon for making them reach Nirvana in Mathematics, but the sad fact is there are no teachers to teach them the fundamental basics and logics. After that, I came to know that the situation was gradually improving with the helping hand rendered by an organization to the Leo Club, so as to arrange tuition classes for them.

          Today, I had another chance to get into the Dark Continent of Chennai, with the geographical features remaining the same. There is only one house in the entire locality that has tiled flooring. This belongs to Devika akka, apparently the most informed among the people. We were there actually to give away the salaries to the teachers, who graciously take classes for the students in the evenings. This Devika akka actually welcomed us with a Vanakkam, which usually is used as token of welcome among learned scholars or between people of same age groups. “When are you going to organize the function, thambi?”, was the first question posed to us. For them, function was ‘Vidiyal’, which is an annual event organized especially for these under – privileged students to create awareness about education. Vidiyal actually translates to ‘rise of the dawn’ and the event is aimed perfectly for this purpose. We answered her with a smile, describing the dates of the ‘festival’, which is both informative and entertaining.

          When she saw me clapping hands somewhere in the air, Devika akka casually said, “There are lots of mosquitoes here See there! The impure running water is the cause of all this.” That was the waste water of our college and I impulsively stopped my futile activity of trying to ‘clap the mosquitoes off’. It shook me. Here was a woman who could live in the midst of those dengue – causing tiny beasts in a part of the city, which consists mostly of people complaining about not having the most luxurious car or mobile with them. People who spend or think to spend 3000 – 5000 bucks for Crocs slippers and 1+ lakhs for an R15 please think of it. This is not targeted specifically at particular persons but at least tithe something that would save the lives of these kinds of downtrodden people. Let’s give them a fair chance. Who knows how many of those students with unoiled and uncombed locks would become stalwarts in the future?

GODS MUST BE CRAZY!!!

                   When people ask for the definition of engineering, students normally do not state it right. To admit, I am not aware of a perfect explanation for the word, ‘engineering’. Perhaps, any of the following may be correct or these can be teamed as ‘The Laws of Engineering’.

1)    Engineering can be defined as a slow, silent killer, which diverts the students into all other activities except studying apart from the period of semesters.

2)    Engineering is the alter ego of oblivion where most of people are unaware of why they prefer it.

3)    In engineering subjects, marks are independent of talent and the number of arrears are independent of internal marks scored.

According to the so – called first law, people with their own lappies spend time with it while rarest like me with no laptops have to think of some other means to spend time. I do not want to comment on the nature of wi-fi here at hostel because if I praise my college, people don’t appreciate but if I criticize, there is a mob (I mean it) to dump and snub me.

Since I had to kill time, I agreed to visit an orphanage with the members of the Rotaract Club of CEG on account of Christmas. It was business as usual as I was looking at different girls and cars while travelling in the bus (Girls and cars are similar; both of them, when looking good, drive guys crazy)

What I thought was just a visit turned out to be the best day ever in my life. When we entered, I was stunned and surprised by the way things were going on there. The kids there, as later stated by the man in-charge, belonged to the most deprived social backgrounds. Everyone was watching Narnia in television.

There were no hassles when TV was switched off due to our arrival. Nobody shouted or yelled. When I was thinking of all these, isolating myself at a corner, one boy came out and shook hands with me, wishing Merry Christmas. Eashwar, this guy, then asked in a tone of care and concern, “Why are you so depressed?”, following it up with, “If you play with me, you are sure to get better.” I could sense my body feeling a douche of cold water. For sure, Jesus Christ could not have taken birth on some other day. Perhaps, Eashwar was an incarnation of the Christ. While playing with these kids, I discovered that I could actually run a bit, though not normally (For those who are not aware, I had a freaky injury which made my right leg almost numb, some three months back, after which I haven't tried my luck at running)

After sometime, another guy named Chandru came up to me with eagerness and gave me something, which would have been a treasure had another guy not taken it away from me. It was a kind of bracelet, which was entirely made of rubber bands. This, I bet, could easily overtake the perfection of garlands made by mom by joining various flower beads. This guy also showed me how this bracelet thing could be modified to make it a ring. After all, it had all the nuances and intricacies of a sculpture dating back to Pallava period. Frankly speaking, I started adoring this new ornament in my hand more than the Kalava or Mauli. Oh gosh, the red thread! (God forbid)

The third incident literally shook me and made me understand the meaning of existence. Vishwa, apparently an eight year – old, called me in a commanding tone, and said in a calm but stern voice, “I want to meet my mom and dad.” I was taken aback and was thinking of a way to tackle him serenely without affecting his happiness. “Romba yosikaadhinganna. Ungappa dhan engappa; ungamma dhan engamma. Koottittu varingala?” (Don’t ponder too much, bro. Your dad is my dad and your mom is my mom. Will you come with them sometime?), said he, and I couldn’t resist tears falling off my eyes, as I nodded. Seriously, these 10 words sum up the whole universe; they are the epitome of human relationships. Had matured people thought of this, there would have been no orphans. Meanwhile, he asked for the band in my wrist and I, without hesitation, gave it. Actually, I wanted to embrace him, my first ever younger brother (Though there are younger cousins, they don’t call mom with the motherly relationship), mom’s third son, and utter, “You’re really GOD.”

Children are the reservoirs of mutual understanding without jealousy, happiness beyond limits and beauty beyond language. When prizes were distributed for the various games and events conducted, there were no arguments regarding the criteria based on which they were evaluated, no hidden vengeance, no discontentment. Everybody enjoyed the day in unison. For them, the world is an entity. The political, economic, social and communal demarcations are not known to them, yet they have superior thoughts and beliefs to us, the ‘educated ones’.

There can be no good life skill and moral education teacher than an under – 8 child, brimming with curiosity, excitement, passion and what not. If they are appointed motivational speakers, they would stand on their own legs within a short span of time because they express the secrets behind everything without their own knowledge. People like Eric Thomas, Robin Sharma and Tony Robbins have to look for a new career ahead.

There is opportunity to study only till 8^th standard in the school, which has been constructed alongside the ‘home’, but who cares? These kids have graduated in life with distinction. They are not orphans, these gifted buds. As Vishwa had said, my parents are his parents and the same applies for everyone. The whole universe is nothing but a family; the solar system is a family; India is a family. Delete ‘orphans’ from dictionaries and thoughts. Does that mean they are lonely because they don't have parents? GODS MUST BE CRAZY!!!

MARRIAGE - A PROCESS

          In the recent days, when people, more generally ladies, meet at a particular place, be it home or office or market or railway stations or wherever, their topmost topic of conversation is not politics, not salaries, not inflation. Guess what? It is always about marriages. Horoscopes, horoscopes, horoscopes everywhere.. Seems like this epidemic has affected India more than Ebola.

          The conversation usually starts in the following fashion. First, there is this so – called courtesy or habitual enquiry about the well – being of the families. In the course of this talk, there comes the entry of our hero, that poor guy who has crossed 25. These people would start gossiping about him and create an illusion that staying single in India after crossing 25 years is a crime by itself. And, the punishment, as it is, would be getting him married to the girl of their choice.

          Only these ladies have the habit of surfing through the entire network of matrimonial sites sans going online. Believe me or not! They would start exchanging the IDs of various brides and grooms, who had registered in very popular sites, seeking their better halves. I wonder why the ‘clients’ in these kinds of divine marriage websites are always given numbers instead of their names, which will be displayed only after entering those numbers. Perhaps, this is to symbolize that if someone has not been married beyond a certain age limit, he is regarded and treated as a criminal (Note that criminals are given numbers in JAILS). The strangest fact is that none of the ladies in that discussion would have got bachelors or spinsters in their family. They would be performing this alleged social service for their acquaintance or a relative of a neighbor’s friend.

          The next process is to convey the details, i.e the ID to the families concerned. Mostly, this horoscope would get eliminated in the first stage itself. Oops.. Sorry for this delay in stating that there are some five or six stages after which a couple is officially decided. The first and foremost condition is the age difference, which varies with each and every family. Some would fix this at 5 or 6, some at 3, with some others wanting a senior girl to the boy. 90% of the horoscopes fail to cross this first hurdle and go in vain. Next, the stars of the boy and girl should match. For this, there are some experts, who would have memorized the match of stars. They would be called immediately to confirm this. In most of the cases, the answer would be negative and all the hardwork done by those ladies to arrive at a decision would become futile in no time.

          If at all the stars do match (rarely does this occur), the next is the background check. Queries like where the boy/girl’s father and mother work, what is their pension, whether they are government employees fall in this category. Remember that all this occurs without the consent of the boy/girl. Who cares? These parents are planning a safe, secure and blissful future for their wards. So, don’t complain.

          After checking the family background, it is now time for individual check. The salary and job security of the person concerned would be verified and his educational qualifications like Post Graduation or Masters only matter now. Apart from this, there are miscellaneous qualifications like owning a sedan, a flat, some 6 to 10 plots, lakhs and crores of bank balance and gold exchequer.

          All set and now the parents would make phone contacts to ensure that the boy and girl are still single. There have been occurrences when a pregnant lady would pick up and answer that she had married long back. I don’t know if there is no provision in these matrimonial sites to delete the accounts of those who have married or they leave it just like that knowingly. Perhaps, this is a marketing strategy.

          If these phone conversations also go positive, the parents would at last have the mind to show the photo to their wards. By that time, this person would have fallen in love with some other, who would not fit into any of these above – mentioned criteria. Exactly at the same juncture, he would be shown the picture of another individual, whom he/she had no idea about. The parents would emotionally affect him/her by stating, “This is the perfect match for you. We’ve spoken to their parents and they’re OK.”

          There are two endings to this story. If the ward relents to their condition, he would lose his dear but with a safe and secure life. If he/she denies, those lovers would somehow get married but not before facing so many evil forecasts and insults. This never matters to the ladies who had discussed earlier in public places, as they would have been continuing their social service for some other family. Never mind!! Marriages are Divine and are decided and made in Heaven!

WHEN NAP EQUALED SLEEP...

          The first thought after completing the last examination of the third semester was to write this. But, home made the change. Eating and sleeping became the primary activities while Facebook and Whatsapp occupied the rest of the time. After getting accustomed to the home atmosphere, there was a picnic and finally now on the verge of my going back to college, there is no other day and I am forced to complete it today.

          Sleeping hours are never long in hostel life as most of the guys sleep at dawn and wake up some half – an – hour before class starts (Few people have got that talent to get ready even in the last five minutes) This regular habit has never been stressful as we used to get at least 4 to 5 hours of sleep. But the last fortnight of each semester never resembles the other normal days. EXAM FEVER!!!

          The affiliated colleges have strict schedule with some even allotting separate time in the name of Study Hour. But, the benefit of our University lies in the fact that we’re always left free with very trivial limitations (Of course, this triviality can take up its gigantic form, at times. But never mind!). The evilness of this benefit can be felt during the exams as none would’ve touched the book except during internals. Even internals can’t shake some stern guys, who must have vowed some day that they would turn the pages of a subject book only at the time of end semester.

          This time, the bad omen started on November 11, though the official date was November 10. The discrepancy lies in the fact that the Mathematics paper was easy (at least for The Mechanical Department). Crossing Math was an icing on the cake; my only fear was the lack of final preps as the day before was my birthday. I had to be online throughout the day as replying late for the wishes would hurt someone (Ok, here is the direct reason. It is the only day when girls would text me. At least by that way, I could develop conversations). I was relieved after 12:30 PM on Nov. 10^th as I wouldn’t be involved in something full of numbers, apart from SuDoKu.

          However, that isn’t it. The second paper was like combating Timur Lenk in Samarkhand. Thermodynamics had to be finished, somehow. There were brief chit-chats in the hostel, after which almost everyone got into the business. Mugging up and getting screwed up with Thermodynamics and Fluid Mechanics is a bit different and much difficult from reading through Playing It My Way or The Alchemist. Thermodynamics is the only subject which requires ‘only’ one book to be read, containing not more than 800 pages (!!!) Seniors had already stated that nothing would be asked beyond that book. But what they meant was evident only during those last three days.

          Different reading habits of people came to the limelight in those good days. One would hold his breath, while continuously chanting some theory, like Shankar Mahadevan singing Breathless, and after 40 – 45 seconds, he would exhale for with a noise resembling that of an athlete, who had run 1500 meters; Another would be rocking his chest and head with his hand in order to provide an easy passage of answers into the brain; Some other guy would be reading with his ears shut with hands or an unconnected headset, in order to prevent external noise.

          There are some distinct peculiar cases in this regard. For example, the people staying at the adjacent room to ours would start preparing only in the afternoon of the last day before any exam, no matter how many days are given as holidays; One guy in the opposite wing would always lament in a sober and sorrowful tone that he couldn’t prepare and concentrate on the subject, although he would have finished three or four revisions by that time, apart from completely reading the book, including Contents, Prologue and Epilogue once; And, another would be spying the rooms all over the hostel to check if someone has read something, which he had no idea about, holding his mobile and pretending to be speaking with his mom; There is this guy, who would always take a break of an hour at around 11:30 PM to speak with his girlfriend.

          All these happened before Thermo and people could be seen roaming here and there from one wing to another to get rid of the doubts, which were nothing short of endless. The hostel typically resembled Chennai Central Railway Junction all the three days. We were fretting on who would be setting the question paper and how difficult it would be. Some, with low internal marks, even went to the extent of not opening the book, deciding it would be of no use.

          Finally, Nov. 14 arrived and as expected, whatever we skipped was asked. Finishing the exam was never the problem as after the first 30 minutes, I had completed what I knew. The remaining time was spent on preying here and there and hissing the person sitting before to show something he had written. Perhaps, it was an indication by the fate, slamming, “You’re not children anymore to celebrate Children’s Day. Suffer and go to hell!!” What was much more distressing was all our painstaking work had gone in vain, in a matter of three hours. November 13 was a historic day for cricket as Rohit Sharma brutally defeated Sri Lanka by 13 runs single – handedly. The students of the Computer Science department were enjoying the entire match, as theirs was a comparatively easy examination, taking Thermo as reference. We could witness Rohit’s assault only in the last stages, when he crossed 180 or so. The very next day, one man, the question paper setter, had assaulted us cruelly as a one – man army.

          The intensity of the aftermath was such that someone who said he would just pass was taken into task with full flurry of bad words. Friends from adjacent hostels curiously enquired about the Sivarathri, as all the lights in each and every room of two floors, which are occupied by the Mech students were kept switched on throughout the night before exam. I slept only 2 hours, for which one of my friends exclaimed, “Two hours! Fuck you, I slept for only 45 minutes.” We had become followers of Virus, who would take a power nap of 7 ½ minutes. The blabbers and abuses went on for the whole day after which the full hostel behaved as if the all the exams had been completed.

          Everyone slept the whole evening and some didn’t wake up even for dinner. The next hurdle was Electronics. (I always wonder why, in the name of Gospel, we are made to study subjects of other depts even after entering second year, while the others have to study only the subjects that is most related to them) Thinking of Thermo, this was nothing and so we didn’t complain. The questions received mixed response, with the majority giving Thumbs Up. Following it up came Electrical Engineering which got the same kind of reception as the previous one.

          Kinematics of Machines was up on the cards and there was only one day (Even if there were three or four days, our degree of preparation would be the same. Yet, this lack of holidays can be stated as reason for scoring low marks during the time of result). This is a subject that can range from easy to diabolical, depending upon the staff handling it. Upon God’s grace, we got a staff whose questions would always be easy or moderate. This was sailed with few hiccups.

          The last in the list was Fluid Mechanics. The disadvantage of the final paper is that we become set to get back to our respective hometowns that the prep always goes in a slumber. There are two batches (or sections, as in school) of Mechanical and I belong to the second batch. People of the other batch had already experienced the inhuman nature of the subject and they were making hardcore preparations, while we people of the second batch, didn’t know the other face of the coin and were enjoying the first day (The internal question paper given to the other batch seemed Greek and Latin to us and they mocked us by stating our internal paper for Fluid Mech was like learning alphabets). A shocking revelation came to the center of attraction only when the syllabus book was opened; many parts of it weren’t covered. The staff couldn’t be made criminal as we mass – bunked many of his classes and there was this IV thing, which entirely washed a week of working hours away.

          We had to bang our heads in walls and tables and somehow finished the last hour prep. Our only hope of our staff (the Professor in charge of the second batch) setting the paper plummeted and boomeranged on seeing the first half of the question paper. It was set in such a way that every question could be answered only partially. Since the time to rejoice was fast approaching, nobody cared about the level of difficulty and mobs of young men were leaving the halls in a hurry in the first hour itself, eager to get back in the first bus or train they could see.

          After completing the last leap, we were extremely tired and exhausted but wanted to be ecstatic and jubilant to the core. There was music everywhere as the speakers roared Danga Maari Oodhari and Merasalaayiten. Sounds of o podu and hoo – haa echoed and resonated around the vast campus and finally, we were free to heave a sigh of relief.

          Returning to the native place, more shock awaited as the truth that none of my friends, mostly from the affiliated colleges, were taking up the exams only then, affected me. Staying without your friends idly at home is worse than reliving those examination days, perhaps. What say?

WHEN POLICEMAN BECAME COLLECTOR...

          This post becomes inevitable albeit my fearing the aftermath when mom and dad had read it. Also, I am fully aware of the consequences I might face if this becomes an issue.

          Till the early hours of today, I was one of those admirers of policemen, as I am a Tamilian who has witnessed the likes of Alex Pandian in Moondru Mugam, Raghavan in Vettaiyaadu Vilaiyaadu and most importantly Duraisingam in Singam I & II. But, this incident changed my admiration into contempt. This is nothing different from what we have seen in movies and heard from neighbors and friends. But, this must be documented as I am the first to suffer (in my knowledge) in the circle of our school friends.

          It all started with us planning to go to beach. Frankly admitting, there’s no other place for outing except the Silver Beach and Krishnalaya Theatre. Asking more would require going to the nearby state, which is just 25 kilometers away. Yeah, we have Puducherry, where the fuels (both gasoline and liquor) are cheaper. Since we people are always content in enjoying the best out of our surroundings, our ultimate option was the beach.

          When four out of the five of our gang were ready, one guy stated that he had to go to the temple and insisted on going tomorrow. Alas, by then, we were set. So, it was me, Deepak and Venky starting from my home and Vicky from his. The happiness of going triples in a two – wheeler cannot be overshadowed by the luxury of an SUV.

          The beach is about 5 kms from my home and there is a small bridge after which the road gets divided. Just at that partition, there were a mob of policemen, who were apparently on ‘duty’. Sensing the peril, Deepak stopped the vehicle, Scooty Pep+ (The three of us had the feeling of ‘3Idiots’. Recollect Aamir, Madhavan and Sharman driving in a hurry for the examination). When I was about to get down, one of the hawk – eyed policeman signaled us come towards them. “We’re done. They’ll take us to task”, said Deepak and without my knowledge, my own mouth was uttering some filthy words, which were overflowing like Vishnu Sahasranamam or Suprabadham.

          When we went near the man who had called us, he gave out a cunning smile, which indicated, “Ah, there you are, my fellas. No escaping from me; do not try to be smart.” None of us had driving license or RC book or insurance or anything of that sort. We only had cash, for which they had stopped us. So we were sent to another man, clearly the senior officer, who enquired where we were coming from. Since Deepak drove the vehicle, he had to answer. Though he appeared calm and composed, I sensed he was fretting because he couldn’t remember the street name (Afterwards, he said that staying in hostel right from his higher secondary schooling had blanked his memory). Here is an important tip: When policeman are screwing you, be at your maximum confidence level. Else, they’ll take advantage of the situation.

          He decided that we were lying. He needed some concrete reason for collecting money from us apart from our having no license. Suddenly, Deepak’s face became bright and he uttered something, which only the police could understand. Later, I came to know that it was his street name, which was a combination of three names. The expected questions about our parents’ background weren’t shot at us and the briefing session was over. He asked 100 bucks from us. I had a 500 rupee note and some 10 and 20 rupee notes, amounting to 70. When I took that 70 rupees from my wallet, he noticed that big money and asked without hesitation, “Won’t you take out that 500?” His name itself was the Tamil word for time, or the common word for cash in English. Perhaps, the name was chosen right. I hailed that unknown person who should have named him. I blushed and demanded 30 from Venky.

          By that time, we were cursing our luck of not having proper documents related to a vehicle. But just then, this happened. The policemen blocked another vehicle, Passion +, and took away the key. Despite the owner showing all papers, they made him stand for a while. We understood that only the paper with Gandhi’s smile would help the commuters’ cause. After filling in the receipt, he asked Deepak to sign. Deepak, filled with mixed emotions of fear and relief, proudly gave his autograph. When we were done, we reached the beach on foot. Meanwhile, I checked out the receipt. There was no evidence that Rs.100 was received from us and to add to my ire, there was no mention of the number of the vehicle. For namesake, we had been given an invoice kind of thing to convert an illegal bribe into a legal fine.

          We then thought how Vicky would mock and make fun of us when he reaches there. Just then, it struck me that he must be informed regarding this honest officials. When I called him, he didn’t pick up. In the next five minutes, he met us, clearly upset. A flurry of bad words came out from his mouth too and we sensed the cause of it; he had been charged 200 bucks, since his was a Splendor +, with the same kind of bill detailing nothing except his name and the name of the vehicle.

            This badly affected us today in spite of our more than enough abusing that we didn’t have the mind to get drenched. The budget for the snacks was limited to just 20 bucks and we just returned trying to look as normal as possible, with hatred and scorn pumping inside our heart. The heat of the bhajjis made our heart and mind boiling, ready to explode. Had there been some innocent person not knowing Tamil, I would’ve gladly scolded him non – stop for some 20 or 30 minutes.

          What is the difference between these people and beggars? At least, beggars can be treated with dignity as they implore us; these nasty human beings demand money as if they are the rightful owners of it. I am not saying we were right. I agree we were totally impractical and absurd, yet what do you call these people collecting money even from the person who showed his papers perfectly?

I'M A LIAR...

          My wallet has never been empty till date. Oh, no! That doesn’t mean that I am a guy born with a silver spoon. It makes sense in that I always make sure some coins stay back in my treasury. Though mom and dad make sure I don’t run out of dosh, they always fail in their attempt as my desires are never – ending. I don’t understand whether my interest of being a bus conductor stemmed up due to my habit of having coins in my purse or vice – versa. Jokes apart, I’m a middle – class youth with adequate amount to satisfy everyday needs, but unprepared for a sudden requirement of large volumes of cash.

          Coming to the reason behind this coin accumulation phenomenon, I have the habit of giving away something to each and every beggar I find. Since I am neither Karna nor Bill Gates, I can donate only in pennies, as it is. Friends do state that I would have got enough money to get a brand new laptop had I saved those coins. Yes, the lappy thing still dodges me but no matter what, my habit has never stopped its course till date. Sometimes, I feel as contended and happy as ARR after delivering his composition while the thought of how a single coin could help a human being survive his/her day out boggles me mostly. Mom had once consoled me that fifty or hundred of those one – rupee coins may suffice. Thinking of Chennai’s cost of living, even a grand seems meager.

          We recently spent the evening of a Friday wandering around Kotturpuram and Adyar. As usual, my business started and I soon became the centre of laughter. One guy said, “Had this guy given me the money he has frittered away so far, I would have watched 10 movies.” Another commented, “I’d have easily dated 5 or 6 girls.” My best buddy asked me how I always stayed neutral to these kinds of remarks by just exuding a smile. My memories went back.

          I was then at fourth grade. The school was not very far from my home. To get a clear picture of my town, no distance can be regarded as ‘far’ as the whole town could very well fit into the size of CEG, or maybe IIT – M. Since my school was not that kind of ‘educating’ its students with various kinds of co – curricular and extra – curricular activities, I had the privilege of getting back home early in the evening. As I was idle after that (which implies playing in the streets), mom got that idea of getting me admitted into a Hindi class. My parents are not one among those stereotypes of Tamil Nadu who arbitrarily decide what is to be done to their children. But then, asking the preference of a 9 – year old isn’t worth much. I didn’t know what is what and agreed.

          My class started on the auspicious day of Vijayadasami. Though I missed my playing cricket, hide and seek et al, I loved that language basically because it was easy for me to grasp things. A 4^th standard student learning the alphabets isn’t that hard, really. My tutor was a lady, whose appearance would arouse the fear and increase the heartbeat of any of her students manifold, but who at heart was really kind. There were only 2 or 3 of us there and it was easy at both sides. The teaching and learning synchronized well and everything was smooth.

          The first month of my Pratmik was over and it was time to pay the fees. Don’t imagine much, just Rs. 30. In those days, school subjects for higher secondary students cost only 100 bucks a month and I remember my whole family of four enjoying a movie for 80. Today, the tuition fee goes beyond the monthly income of mom. And, some schools in Chennai, I hear, levy amounts which are slightly more than the yearly pay of mom and dad combined, merely for the admission into kindergarten. Mom gave me the money and I, with great devotion and fervor, kept those three 10 – rupee notes juxtaposed between the centre pages of my notebook. Mom gave that look, which seemed to stress, “I’ve given my whole property to you. Be careful. If you lose it, I am bankrupt and ruined.”

          I left for the tuition, hugging the bag which contained the notebook and in turn the money, like a teddy bear. When one of the neighbors said hello, I hurried as if he was about to snatch it away from me. It was the first time ever in my 9 – year old history that I was vested with that much cash. It was as if I was a secret agent, who had to deliver some confidential message that was in the bag to my higher authority.

          Just when I was about to reach the class, a boy, obviously younger than me, called, “Anna”. That was the first instance of someone calling me with a senior relationship and I was pleased at least for that. He sported a bare chest and wore the so – called trouser, which was in the dusk of its life. He told me that he needed money. I was shocked and thought immediately that he should have seen me going with cash. When I told him that I could not give him and explained my situation, he shed a tear, then started weeping and soon it transformed into a dam opened during rainy season. I couldn’t bear that and so gave it way to him. Neither he nor I spoke about the quantity of money as I gave away those 30 rupees, without knowing who he was. I didn’t know to ask how much he needed and not to give all the money I had.

          Left with no money, I returned home without attending the classes, not before playing cricket in the adjacent street. My plan was to make up as if I had attended the class by going home after an hour’s play. (My first ever bunking of a class) To my dismay, mom welcomed me with the question, “Where have you been?”, which meant she had cross – checked. I didn’t reply. What followed was a serious of slaps in my cheek and I started crying with an uproarious volume. That day was new to me. Everything had happened for the first time - a fellow calling me with respect of brotherhood, me initiating my charity and mom slapping me. These had never happened to me previously and I was simply petrified. I didn’t know why I could not muster up courage to tell mom that I helped a poor fellow. For sure, mom wouldn’t have believed but it was worth a try.

          What was more shocking was that my parents had by then, come to a decision that I was not interested in Hindi. Since I had played and enjoyed my day out there, the option of me losing the money was eliminated as they thought I, as their son, should’ve at least made an attempt to search it out. Finally, I had become a CHEAT, FRAUD and LIAR at home.

          The issue was never raised then and it hasn’t become a topic of conversation till date, except for dad recalling the incident when I argue with him. I had lost the golden opportunity of learning the lingua franca of India (I hope it is), but I have no regrets. I had developed a philanthropic attitude at the age of nine. Further, I had adhered to Thiruvalluvar’s golden words:

                   “Poimaiyum Vaaimai Idaththu Puraitheerndha

                   Nanmai Payakkum Enin”

(Lie is not lie if it serves a good and selfless cause)

          I was brought back to reality by my buddy’s pat. I just smiled at him again.