Accidental musings from my blasted life!

The day was rather bright & sunny. The rain gods had finally called truce & everyone trooped out of their respective houses to get a thousand chores done.

So it’s my mum & me. Walking hand in hand. Every lil thing caught my interest then. After all, I was a bursting bubbling seven year old. I see something glint in between the grasses on the roadside & anticipating it to be a sad coin that was lonely in the thick grass, I decided to give it company by making it my own.

I forgo my mum’s genitive hold & without looking hither or thither bound towards the elusive unhappy coin.

A young speeding lad coming from yonder on his bicycle is taken by surprise by my zippy decision. He brakes at the nth moment…I’m faced by this life threatening decision to save myself from the approaching disaster…my long umbrella turns into a saber as I remember young Prithviraj Chauhan’s fencing skills from the Amar Chtra Kath. In one sweeping graceful movement…I thrust my bayonet styled umbrella in between the spikes on the wheels of the cycle. There is a long screech & a thud as the wheels buckle & overthrows the rider. A resilient me, watches with pride & then horror at the hapless boy bruised & bleeding wondering what hit him.

My mum’s aghast at the turn of events & wonders whose fault it was after all?

Here I need to share a secret. My mum to this day doesn’t know about the sad little coin beckoning me from the lush greens. She didn’t care much about lonely animals, lonely flowers, lonely stones & sticks. Deep wisdom expounded that this lil lonely coin shall not be accepted into the folds of our clan too so no point sharing my bearings with her.

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I’m sweet sixteen now, absurdly pleased with life’s digressive ramblings. I look like a long healthy drumstick. Not an ounce more, nor an ounce less. Nothing girlie interests me. We are visiting my maternal grand dad. His double barrel gun genuinely fascinates me. So I broach the subject with Nanaji expressing the desire to dismantle & oil the antiquated gun. After giving me an unanticipated look, he lets me, smug that the bullets are carefully locked away.

I take the gun to the patio & start dismantling it slowly. By the way, I forgot to mention that the bungalow was in the process of getting white washed. Several painters sat, hung on their swings sloshing away lime on the outer walls of the ancient structure.

One young chappie resembling a bombay duck (is a fish for those who are oblivious of its existence) sans its fluid contents sits on a swing nearby. He’s probably not seen a double barrel gun or a sweet sixteen-year ole drumstick or perhaps a sweet sixteen-year ole drumstick dismantling a double barrel gun. He bends at an angle too adventurous & the next moment I see him sprawled on the ground wearing his can of paint upside down on his head like a chef. He gives me a spiteful look as I try to decide which look suits him more….the painter or the chef?

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The heady feeling of being eighteen was too much for me & I had to set things in perspective. I had to do the things that a fully grown mature organism does, who’s attained adulthood. So I decide that its time to take the reigns of our car in my hands. I join a motor driving school.

My emaciated teacher, looking at me pumping the accelerator estimates my adrenalinaemia & philosophizes that “a good driver is seldom a fast driver”. Tsk tsk…the gutless wimp!

My teacher picks me early one morning. We decide to go to a stretch where it’s less populous. By mumbai standards, it means somewhere close to marshy lands where the road is a dead end. There is this huge ditch on either sides of the road to lay telephone cables. A gentleman is squatted on the mud mound on the side of the ditch; to answer his natures urgings which gently falls into the ever-welcoming abyss wiping all traces of repugnance.

He’s enthralled by a female on the wheels (there weren’t too many female drivers those days in the area). As he shifts to have a better look…behold! The man disappears into the Grand Canyon. Seeing the man take his dive takes a toll on me. I head towards the other other side of the road, which had a ditch of its own. In my hurry to save the offloading gentleman…I had panicked. I stop on the huge mound at the nick of time, marveling at my reflex action.

And then I look at my teacher. What was wrong with him? He’s doing two things; trembling & sweating with his entire weight on the brakes on his side of the controls(for the benefit of those who have not gone to driving school…there are 2 brakes in the vehicle that’s used to teach the young turks). This teacher sure had his reflexes disjointed! I give him a sympathetic look. My adult status needed me to act like one & be compassionate to people around me.

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Now I’m twenty-one. Have sobered down a bit. The needle on my speedometer just about touches a boring, humble 80kms per hour these days. Mum asks me to drive her to the market, which has the narrowest of lanes with vegetable & fruit sellers on either side ready to jump at the approaching customers.

I marvel at their persuasiveness as one seller sells oranges to a man looking for bottle gourds. Another sells lemons in a discount offer to a women who actually has ginger on her mind.

We snake…no…snail… slowly towards the end of the lane to park the car. The lane is choke-a-block with swarming vendees. A well-endowed women standing 1.6 inches away from our stationary car decides to bend & inspect the bananas that a vendor sporting a thick moustache is packing for her. As she bends over, her rear, rears towards the side of the car’s body which in turn pushes her frontal assets towards the intensely despo Verrapan kin. The Verrappan look alike in a clear swoop holds the ill-fated women in one lucky crushing embrace.

I notice a sudden turbulence in the atmosphere, which makes me innocently peep through the left side window. I discover a daring embrace in full public view.

I search for an answer wondering what romance was doing, sitting in a uneven, unfinished cane basket filled with bananas hugging a demon whose moustache can be used to swing from one perch to another? My face is a typical Mr Bean expression of amazement & wonder.

The humble lady still sitting hugging her dandy helps me chance upon a few gujarati words in reference to some domestic animals in gushy overtones.

Mum commands a quick retreat from the lane abandoning our plan to buy out half the market. Mum’s hoarse with mirth filled utterances on the way back as I still wear the Mr Bean expression of….now what?

Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006

Meeting my Guru

Meeting the person I had looked upon, as my “Guru” was something I had looked forward to for quite sometime now. There was a unique coherent connection I felt towards him. I had come across his profile by chance on Sulekha.

He is a prolific writer on many sites & one just needs to google him & get aplenty links with information citing the various research papers he has submitted in varied fields ranging from pediatric conditions, anatomy, dermatology, urology, environment, ornithology, art, social norms & practices & many more that I have lost count of.

Dr Arunachalam Kumar better known as Ixedoc on Sulekha is an enigma to many. The feeling of an unknown connection was so strong that it made me contact him. Something, that’s totally uncharacteristic of me on a virtual site.

He came across as a very simple, warm & highly informed individual. It perplexed me that his own had abandoned a man of his stature. The reasons were bizarre but my instinct signaled that he had been wronged for no fault of his.

I finally got the opportunity to meet him on 20th May, 2006. His long hair & beard made me instantly recognize him. He had come to pick me along with Ravi, his man friday & driver & Laxmi’s husband. After the initial respectful greetings, we were on our way to his home where Laxmi & Krishnamma his caretakers & now family awaited us.

The moment the car approached, the four hounds… Jaws, Claws, Chin Chin & Jo Jip went berserk with excitement & they had to be closeted with Doc for a while to release the adrenalin & settle them before they finally got to meet us.

The dogs were a delight & we got along naturally in no time. The Rajapalayam & Mudhol hounds are known to be a ferocious lot. And here they were, smothering me with more attention than I could handle. After a while, exhausted, I just sat there, being manhandled by the lovable rowdies to their hearts content.

Laxmi & Krishnamma welcomed us with a kind of flair earned from previous experiences of playing host. I pondered. We seemed like one happy family. Just that no one was connected to the other by blood.

Doc had the day planned & after some tittle-tattle over coffee we headed for Kasturba Medical College to check out the anatomy department. I had indicated an interest to know more about Doc’s profession as a professor of Anatomy & he had been gracious enough to relent.

Doc had worked at KMC for more than three decades & had recently joined K S Hegde Medical Academy as Vice Dean. This was his first visit to his alma mater as well as ex-work place after his resignation.

The moment he stepped out of his car, ex-colleagues from all backgrounds surrounded him. The liftman, lab assistants, the Head of Dept of Anatomy, lecturers & students all seemed to be genuinely happy to see him & most of them greeted him with their palm touching the left side of their chest in a heart felt gesture, shaking hands with him.

I felt stirred from within witnessing the small pan & tea stall owners come forward to greet him with the purest of affections. This was definitely a man of the masses.

The anatomy dept, like expected had students bending / probing over different human body parts. A right arm, a left leg, kidneys, heart, liver, lungs, small intestines, uterus along with ovaries & the ureter, testes, skull etc

There were five cadaver’s preserved in formalin in a septic tank for students to study, learn & help heal.

A bold message displayed on the sidewall read, “LET LAUGHTER CEASE & COMFORTS FLEE, THIS IS A PLACE WHERE DEATH ENLIGHTENS TO EDUCATE THE LIVING”.

A cadaver was brought out for me to get a better understanding of the harrows the young medical students have to go through on the road to becoming a doctor.

Looking at the cadaver lying on the dissection table made me reflect about the dead man & how death had stripped him of his dignity, as he lay naked for people to probe his insides. Where was his family & why had they abandoned him? Did they know he was dead? Was this dead man so poor that his family couldn’t afford to give him a decent funeral & left the body unclaimed? Question, questions & more questions answers to which I shall never know.

After this sobering experience, we headed to Doc’s by now famous on Sulekha coffee joint, The Taj Mahal. The owner was surprised to see him at that part of the day. In all probability he didn’t recognize him since Doc looked different than what he looks at 5am every morning. After some strong coffee by Mumbai standards, we headed home.

On our way, as we passed a Govt hospital Doc informs pointing at the tall building that as a student leader, he was instrumental in closing down the establishment for four days. He reminisced how he had been rusticated three times during his student life for fighting for the medical students cause only to be re-instated after winning the legal battles each time against the medical college.

Wow! This was one part from the past that I didn’t quite digest about my Guru. But I reasoned…what the heck! It’s been a long time ago.

Later that evening, Garvit one of Doc’s favourite student joined us for dinner at the Royal Durbar. Meeting people connected to Doc from various walks of life gave me an understanding of this multi faceted person who has bravely beaten all odds & walks chin up. I sure am mighty proud of him.

The next day I headed to Madikeri in Coorg & came back again on 26th May to spend half a day with him before hitting the road to home.

During my short stay at Mangalore, Doc initiated me to the world of ornithology. The first bird he identified for me was the purple sunbird that flitted from one branch to another in his back yard. Doc is a pro where birds are concerned. He was selected for the post of director at BNHS - Bombay Natural History society after Dr Salim Ali’s death. He has an awesome collection of bird books & can recognize an abundance of birds from their calls.

By afternoon, the mood was sullen. Time to say au revoir had finally come. The parting was emotional & heart wrenching.

I often wonder about the bonding that we develop for people in our lives. People who are not related to us by blood & yet there is this immense attachment. Doc is my extended family & there to stay for life.

Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006