A Risque afternoon at Prithvi

Yesterday I took my brother and his family (visiting Mumbai for the 1st time) to watch a play at Prithvi.  After all, what better way to expose my brother and his family to the vibrant cultural atmosphere of Mumbai?

To my consternation I realised once the play "Shree Maan Chor" started, that the theme of the play was all about middle class hypocrisy with a liberal dose of spouse swapping thrown in.  It was a Hindi adaptation of a famous Italian satire by the celebrated Dario Fo, with a lot of funny and double entendre dialogues thrown in.

Soon the play reached the hottest scene : one of the women - as part of stimulation - uses a "whip" ("hunter" in Hindi) on her man.  Again all supposed to be in good fun - because the audience was roaring away with laughter.

My brother nervously glanced at his 8 year old son.  And I at my mother.  Both were pictures of rapt concentration.

At the end of the play I asked my mother how she liked it.

"I did not understand the play at all as it was all in Hindi" my mother very diplomatically replied.

My 8 year old nephew was more clear in his verdict. He wrinkled his nose and said :"It was OK - but it reminded me of school when the teacher was using the big whip to beat that person".  

Classical Music : The Debt I Owe YouTube

There was a time when the only artistes I appreciated (and whose cassettes and CDs I bought) were mega-stars such as Bhimsen Joshi, Kishori Amonkar, Zakir Hussain and Ravi Shankar.  The number of artistes I was aware of, and who I listened to, could be counted on the fingers of my hands.

I had no exposure to other artistes, and because space (and money) was limited I did not want to experiment buying cassettes and CDs (or attending concerts) of unknown performers.  Hence I stuck to a short repertoire of performers whose music I patronised.

It did not of course help that for a long time I did not stay in a metro city - hence I was not even exposed to any music circle that would have "educated" me to go beyond my limited repertoire.

Around 2008 I started becoming an active YouTube user.  For the 1st time I started getting exposed to performers outside my "short short-list".  For the 1st time I realised that there are fine artistes who were very talented - but for some reason (poor marketing, bad luck, or lack of supporting patrons) were not simply in the limelight.  Of course they would be known to connoisseurs and other artistes - but these would be a tiny fragment of the classical music listeners.

I am ashamed to admit - but it is a fact - that it is only thanks to YouTube that I got exposed to superbly talented artistes like Pt. Ulhas Kashalkar, Prabha Atre, Shruti Sadolikar, Yogesh Shamsi, and a lot many others.  In fact the size of my repertoire of "acceptable" performers expanded by 10 times sheerly because for the 1st time I could listen to (and view) recorded Live performances.  Because of the unique way YouTube randomly exposes a viewer to different performers I "discovered" young talent like Manjusha Patil and even younger artistes such as Aarti Nayak.

For the 1st time I realised that the world of Harmonium did not begin and end with the talented trio of Pt. Tulsidas Borkar, Pt. Purushottam Walavalkar, and Pt. Appasaheb Jalgaonkar.  For a person who is very passionate about the harmonium it would have been a major loss if I had not realised that there are other incredibly talented harmonium players who were emerging on the horizon bringing in their own creativity and talent.

Since my move to Mumbai 3 years ago, I am now living my dream of actually attending live music concerts of all these tens and tens of talented musicians who I have got to know intimately thanks to YouTube.  When I see them in a live show I already feel I know them intimately because I have watched them and listened to them for hundreds of hours on YouTube.  They have entertained me and raised my spirits while I was sitting in a city thousands of kilometers away where there was the remotest chance of a musician of that caliber ever visiting and performing.

YouTube's major achievement is to level the playing field - talented artistes - whether old or young - now have a platform for a wider audience to "stumble upon" and appreciate diverse talent.

I thank YouTube (and those who took the trouble for laboriously uploading the videos) for making me more aware of the hundereds of talented musicians who - practically speaking - would NOT have existed for me but for YouTube. 

Our Friends on Facebook

"Our mom is too inquisitive.  Why, she is so inquisitive that she even knows the complete history of the vegetable seller - which is his native place, how many children he has got, what ailments he suffers from ......." said the daughter.

"Not just the vegetable seller - she knows everything about our crazy laundryman, the watchman, and all the students in her yoga class" my son continued.

A mom bashing session was taking place.  Obviously, a fall-out of the mom doing a detailed probe on the state of their study assignments.

I cleared my throat, feeling it was time to come to her defense.  "Because your mom is a very caring person she wants to genuinely know everyone....."

"Hello, are you calling me over-friendly?" said my wife looking at me.  Somewhere she has realised that I am always a safer bet to pick on - an argument with kids can meander off in unintended tangents.

"You have to be....you even got a friend request on fb from the vegetable seller" said my son and both the off-springs burst into laughter.

"Well, I and the vegetable vendor had exchanged telephone numbers recently as I wanted him to inform me whenever some exotic vegetable like "Keerlu" is available.  And from then on fb started suggesting that we should be friends. But I am definitely not friends with him on fb" said my wife heading to the bedroom - a clear indication that she had enough of this discussion.

5 minutes later my attention is suddenly drawn to a monkey ambling along on our balcony. It was headed straight for the open bedroom window where my wife was having her siesta.

I quickly run to the bedroom.  The monkey was sitting on the bedroom balcony and peering through the window.  

The monkey saw me enter - and deciding it had better things to do, jumped into a nearby tree and disappeared.

"Wake up dear - a monkey almost entered the room.  It was sitting there wondering whether it should wake you up "  I said.

"Oh. Did you check whether it has sent me a friend request?" she said and went back to sleep.

Neighborly Exchanges

We heard from our building watchman that the apartment upstairs which was lying vacant for the last 2 years is finally getting occupied.  Apparently the owner of the apartment himself was moving in.

A shower of dry leaves from the balcony upstairs onto our balcony indicated that the move has indeed happened.  We got positive confirmation about the move when a deluge of water from the flower pots upstairs showered on to the clothes left out to dry on our balcony.

My wife sent our maid upstairs to request them to inform us the next time they plan to water their plants so that we can remove the clothes from our balcony.

Today when I entered the elevator it was occupied by a person with a grumpy face.  Wanting to bring joy and sunshine into the world, I wished this person a hearty and joyous "Good morning".

The fact that my hearty greeting was met with an even grumpier look made me realize that this must be our upstairs neighbor.

Here is what happened in the 2 minute ride in the elevator.

I : "Hope you have settled down well".

He : "Your car was parked in such a way that I could not park my car in my parking space".

I : "My car was not blocking your car parking space.  You can reverse park your car comfortably the way all of us do".

He : "I don't like to reverse park my car".

One minute Silence as I suppressed the various funny repartee's that came to my mind.

He : "There is space out on the road where you can park your car"

I  : "I will henceforth consult you whenever I need to park my car."

One Minute Silence again as he pondered what other topic of national importance can he discuss.

He : "Some water and garbage will always fall onto the balcony of the apartment downstairs.  It is your responsibility to ensure that you install an extension roof for your balcony in order to protect yourself."

I : "Yesterday someone was throwing rotten tomatoes at people passing by. So don't be surprised if you see everybody walking on the road today wearing a helmet."

Another minute's silence as he pondered about the mental stability of his neighbor downstairs.

When we alighted from the lift I cheerfully wished him to have a great day.  The look he gave me indicated that the last thing he wanted to have was a good day.

The Year I Went Bananas

This year has ended with me going bananas.

Puzzled?

Well there I was loitering around in the Ernakulam temple for the one thing that I find interesting - which is the prasad that the priest distributes at the end of the aarti.  Today the priest was distributing bananas, and fighting my way through the crowd I managed to get hold of one.    

Without any further ado, I peeled off the banana skin and started eating the banana the only way I know to eat one - by putting it into my mouth.

And then suddenly I hear a voice saying "Hey" in my ear. It was the kind of "hey" that I used to dread hearing when I was trying to slink into the school 10 minutes late.

I turned around, and found it emanated from an officious looking chap who was looking at my banana in distaste.

Perfectly good banana if you ask me - and that too given to me by the temple priest.  Of course there are some who don't like bananas, but I am not one of them - so I continued to munch into my banana.

"Hey" he said again - and I noticed that apart from looking irritated he was also vigorously scratching his b*m. (I don't want to spell it out - but the word rhymes with Rum)

"Yes?" I said in a guarded manner.  I do like my banana even if there are some strong anti-banana lobbies around with itchy tendencies.

"You are not supposed to eat a banana that way in the temple" he said.

"Sorry, I can eat a banana only if the skin is peeled off" I told him.  Some people had told me that my face resembles a horse's - but this is the first time somebody had actually mistaken me for a four legged creature.

My attempt at humour completely fell flat with him. He looked at me sternly and said "According to the etiquette in this temple you are not supposed to take bites of the banana.  You have to use your hand to break it into pieces and then put the piece into the mouth".

I looked at his hand which was still scratching his b*m and told him "I like to eat a banana without my hands touching it.  It is more hygienic".

"You can eat it in whatever manner you want outside the temple - but in the temple you only eat it the way I told you" he said and then with a satisfied look marched away still scratching his b*m.

"Hey, what does the temple etiquette say about scratching one's b*m?" I said.  The chap went marching away as if he did not hear me.

So here is to all banana lovers .......May you have a glorious 2017 in which you eat as many bananas in whichever manner you prefer .......

Elevated Conversations

I parked my car in the office parking lot and got out.  It was a rainy humid morning and my glasses immediately thickly fogged over, so I removed them and made my way to the elevator.

From the distance I could make out that a woman dressed in a red sari was approaching the elevator. Without my glasses I could not make out her face.  All I could make out was that she had a beautiful figure, and the glint from her teeth indicated she is smiling - but I could not make out whether she was smiling at me or at someone else.

I did not want to be thought to be staring so I quickly averted my gaze.

She came and stood next to me, and said :"I smiled at you, and you did not smile back"

I turned my head - and now recognised her as a senior colleague who was visiting from our Delhi office. She was probably my age - in her late forties - but maintained herself very well.

This was embarrassing. As we both got into the elevator I said : "I did not have my glasses so could not see your face clearly".

And then to my acute embarrassment I heard myself saying: "I was trying to see whether you are someone I know - but without my glasses all I could see was a beautiful figure in red".

She now had a very amused expression on her face. So to hide my embarrassment I heard myself blabbering: "I did not want to look too closely and then be thought of as ogling at unknown women"

Oh oh that did not help either.

There was silence in the elevator, and I was busy kicking myself for saying the wrong things.  I wondered what terrible impressions she has formed of me.

I said : "I mean to say, people at my age should be careful and not smile at unknown women"

She smiled and as we got out of the lift she said :"Only we think we are still young. The fact is that if I or you smile at an unknown person, people will understand and interpret it only as a characteristic of old age.  So please go ahead and smile at anybody - we now have the licence" she said with a twinkle in her eye.

A VPP (Very Puzzled Pigeon)

I say old chap, I am in a bit of soup - I did not know I was of Pakistani nationality.

On why Kedar grows a beard

So I am Kedar, and I am in a Market Research agency.  Yesterday I called a meeting with my team mates and with my boss to discuss something that really upset me.

My boss Rahul an old fogey, immediately asked me why I had called for a meeting.

So I explained : "So you see, last week I had gone to observe a group discussion that our agency was conducting among men who had recently bought baby diapers.  The group discussion was happening on the 2nd floor in a hotel room, and I had gone down to buy pan-beeda when I was approached by an interviewer who wanted to know whether I will be interested in attending the group discussion. He told me that all I had to do was to just sit there and nod my head, and I will get a good gift at the end of the 2 hour discussion.  Imagine an interviewer from my own agency trying to recruit me to attend my own group discussion".

I could see a lot of sympathetic nods in the room - apparently my other colleagues too have experienced it.

So I continued : "And what was especially embarrassing was that even my client was approached in the lobby by another interviewer and cajoled into attending the group on baby diapers.  My client was not even married and hence got really upset and gave me a firing of my life."

The old fogey Rahul said :"Does this happen in all groups?".  Trust my boss to come up with highly irrelevant questions.

So I said: "It always happens.  Why, even in female groups......."

Before I could complete my sentence, the old fogey says "What, you get recruited to attend even female groups?".

That old fogey needs to be definitely committed to a lunatic asylum.

Before I could retort, the old fogey says : "Ah, that explains why you have recently started growing a beard, Kedar".

I very much doubt the future of group discussions if this industry has guys like this boss.

Laundry Maneuvers

I opened our front door and stepped out into the passage to pick up my shoes from the shoe rack.   As I stepped out I bumped into the laundry chap trying to edge past me into my apartment.

Now, the laundry chap was one of those shifty "half-nut"characters employed by the laundry shop downstairs to collect and deliver laundry.  Instead of waiting at the door, this chap has the habit of entering our living room - even when my wife is alone.  Since he pretended not to understand spoken language, we switched to the more overt tactic of keeping the door shut while we go inside to fetch the laundry, or one of us will physically block the entrance so that he does not ease himself into the house.

And here he was today, again trying to sneak past me into the living room without so much as a "Good Morning, may I.......?"

Through an adroit maneuver, I managed to regain the front door before he could enter.  I promptly shut the door just as he was about to step inside, and informed my wife that the laundry chap is waiting outside the door.

"Phoo .....and as usual he was trying to enter the apartment" she said.

She brought out the laundry bundle from our bedroom, opened the front door and handed over the laundry bundle to the chap outside.  She told him there are 8 items in the bundle for ironing and then shut the door.

After a minute, the door bell rings.  She opens the door and looks at the chap standing outside with the laundry bundle which she had just handed over.

She looks at him for a few seconds, and then says "Oh you!" in a very embarrassed manner.

And then she turns to me and says to me "Did you not realise this is NOT the laundry man?  This is the person I hired yesterday to clean the house".

I gave a sheepish apologetic smile to the confused looking chap entering the house.  Yes, on closer scrutiny this guy indeed was a different guy, though there was a resemblance to the laundry chap.

"Do you have a brother...?" I started to say, but a glare from my wife shut me up.

"My husband always makes silly mistakes of this kind" she says as way of explanation to the cleaner.

"Well, you handed over the laundry to him..." was the sharp rejoinder that came to my tongue, but like all great Generals I decided to hold my tongue, and gave another sheepish smile to the cleaner chap.

When Friends Write Books

A friend of mine - who I respect a lot for his intellect - recently published a book.  The description of the book on Amazon indicated that the subject is quite close to my interest - and I therefore decided to buy it through my Kindle.

Unfortunately the book turned out to be a total let-down.  The only interesting part of this book was the preface that was extremely lucidly written, and had some original thoughts and view-points from the author.  However, the rest of the book appeared to read like a text book - very dry and without a point of view (much of it is available on Wikipedia anyway).  The expectations aroused on reading the preface was let down by the rest of the book. After a brief struggle attempting to make sense of the first few chapters I gave up the battle.

The fact is, I had wanted this friend's book to succeed (and I still hope it will succeed - as it is quite possible that my tastes and intellect simply do not match).  I was even planning to write a review about this book on Amazon - as reviews usually help.  But after reading the book I decided not to : if I am being honest, it will not help either the book or our friendship.

Which brings me to the toughest question. What should I do next?  This is the first book in the series - there are more to follow.  It is quite possible that without feedback, he will repeat the same approach for the rest of the books in the series.  Should I honestly give my feedback to my friend on his book?The reason why I hesitate is that I know for a fact that few artistes (and authors) can take criticism.

Right now, I would like to believe I may be an exception - that other readers will in fact love the approach he has taken in his book, and that the series will end up as a mega-hit.  If that does happen, I will be the happiest person.

Thathasthu (Or, May what you say come true)

It was a heavy lunch and I and my colleague squeezed into the already over-crowded lift to go to our 7th floor office.

I hoped that the "over-loaded" alarm in the elevator will not go off.  Fortunately it did not, and to make small conversation I looked at my team mate and said loudly so that everyone in the lift could hear : "Have you ever used the stairs to climb up 7 floors?".  I basically wanted to start an interesting conversation on why young people (i.e. all the others in the lift) should use the stairs, rather than squeeze into crowded elevators.

Nobody reacted.  Everybody in the lift had a most disinterested expression.  It was clear that climbing stairs was not an interesting topic for discussion.

The lift reached the 2nd floor and then suddenly stopped.  A couple of people got off thinking it was because the lift was over-loaded.  But no luck - it refused to go up any further.  It was clear that there was something wrong with the lift, and the only option now is the stairs.

"Thathasthu - you got your wish to make us climb the stairs" said a morose looking guy to me. Poor chap, he had to get to the 10th floor.

This morose guy is unlikely to ever enter a lift if he sees me in it. 

Low Tide at Bordi Beach

We went recently to Bordi beach which is about 160 km from Mumbai, and close to the Gujarat border.  Bordi beach is a very long beach. The good thing about it is that not many people know about it - and hence ideal for people like me who love desolate beaches.

We visited this magnificent beach three times, and we had 3 different experiences.

Visit 1 : The Menacing Experience 

The first visit was at night - at about 8 pm.  There was no moon and we could only see the white sand of the beach.  However, beyond the beach there was pitch darkness - in fact a blackness that almost was frightening as there was no glistening of star light off the water, nor was there any sound of waves.  We went to the edge and tried to figure out what lay beyond but it was too dark.  We put on the torch and examined what lay beyond.  It looked like the sea bed - dark, wet and sticky.  We walked a few minutes on it hoping that we will come across the sea - but the sticky sea bed seemed to stretch on and on.  In the distance we could now hear faintly the sound of waves.  It was a menacing feeling in the darkness. We returned to the safety of the white beach as the darkness and the mystery was a bit over-whelming.

Visit 2 : The Mysterious Experience

Our second visit was early next morning to figure out the mystery.  What we found was that there was only a vast expanse of black clayish sand which stretched at least for 3-4 kilometers from the white sands of the beach.  It was as if there is no sea. About a kilometer from the beach were a couple of stranded boats let high and dry on the muddy sea bed.  How they got there we had no clue.

We walked on the sea bed towards the boats picking our way carefully through the slush.

We asked a fisherman the mystery behind the stranded boats and were told that it was currently low tide and the sea had retreated a few kilometers.

I grew up in Fort Kochi which also has a magnificent beach - but I never saw such an effect in Fort Kochi beach probably because the ocean floor is deep due to dredging by the nearby port - and hence the effect of the tide is not visible.

But in Bordi the effect of tide is highly visible because of the shallow nature of the sea bed.

Visit 3 : The Reassuring Experience

We returned to the beach after breakfast at about 11 am and found that it was high tide, and the beach looked "normal" like any other beach now.  It was hard to believe that just a couple of hours ago we could have walked on the sea bed for 3-4 kilometers away from the sea shore.

The waves glistened in the bright sunshine and the stranded boats were no longer to be seen - apparently gone out fishing.  And we relaxed in the familiar sight of a "normal" beach.

Faster is Better?

My harmonium teacher makes me practice certain exercises over and over again.  He constantly wants me to increase my speed.

Initially, I wondered why - after all I never play the harmonium at those high speeds in actual life. And I am a person who believes that slow is beautiful - especially when it comes to music.

Later on I realised why it is necessary to be fast at a craft or skill.  The whole purpose of training for any skill is to equip the person to operate in a System 1 mode (i.e. Reflexive) where the person does not need to think while performing -but yet performs beautifully and flawlessly (without mistakes). Thinking requires time, and is therefore inefficient.  Moreover in music or in sports, there is not much time to analyse, think and then react - it is therefore important to develop spontaneity.

So now I understand why I need to be able to play the harmonium really fast - it goes beyond the mere thrill of speed.  If I can play it flawlessly at really fast speeds, then I will be even more creative and spontaneous when I play it slow.

The Open Window

Midway through the function my wife suddenly asks me "I hope you closed the Pooja room windows before we left home?".

I carefully observed her tone of voice, and therefore said :"Of course, I closed the windows".

She looked at me a little doubtfully as if saying "this guy is obviously fibbing".  But she kept quiet as there were several bored people in the room eagerly waiting for any entertainment.

In the car on the way back to home, my wife asks me "Did you really shut the windows?"

"If I had told you any response other than Yes, our whole evening would have got ruined - so I said Yes.  So at least we could enjoy the evening." I told her.

"You mean the Pooja room window is open?" suddenly spoke my normally somnolent son from the back-seat of the car.  "I am not sleeping in my bedroom tonight - last time dad left the pooja room window open, a rat had entered through the window and camped in my bedroom" he said.

"Not one, but two rats" added my wife.

"Be thankful that it was only rats - and not monkeys" I said showing my legendary sense of humour.

My wife frowned : "I had told you several times......"

"And I am not sleeping in my bedroom tonight. I am sleeping in your bedroom, and on the cot" my son said.

"I hope you will find it easy to bring along your cot into our bedroom" I said.

My sparkling sense of humour was ignored.

"And the mosquitoes - how many of them would have entered the house, I wonder" my wife said.

"The sales for the mosquito liquidator are a bit down for my favourite client - so I am trying to help them" I said.  I of course said it in a very low voice so that my wife does not hear it.

We reached home, and the wife and son went to the pooja room to check how many rats, monkeys, and mosquitoes had entered through the open window.  I stood in the hallway trying to appear cool and relaxed.

There was silence.  And then my wife appears and says "The windows of the pooja room were shut. So were you trying to pull our leg when you said you did not close the windows?"

My son looked a bit disappointed :"So that means I will have to sleep in my own bedroom".

My wife again turned around and said beseechingly :"Tell me truthfully, you did shut the windows, did you not?"

I let my eyes wander over the various pictures of the Gods in the pooja room and then said "No, I did not". 

The Bare-foot Girl

The Dahisar railway platform was deserted on the Sunday afternoon.  The next train was due only 20 minutes later, so I whiled away my time observing the shoe polisher.

He would be in his fifties.  He sat on the platform overlooking the pedestrian over-bridge. Because he was sitting on the floor his world view was ground level - that of numerous feet walking around on the platform. He kept scanning the sea of feet that passed by him, and whenever he spotted a pair of feet that wore leather shoes, his eyes would brighten up, and he would shout "Shoe Polish" and look up at the face of the owner of the feet.

As I was observing him, his eyes suddenly took on a very puzzled expression.  I followed his eyes to figure out what had caused this puzzlement.

He was looking at what is nowadays a rarity : the bare feet of a girl not wearing any footwear.  He looked up to see her dress and face. She was probably in her early twenties smartly dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, and carrying a nice stylish hand-bag.  She seemed to be middle class - so certainly able to afford buying footwear.  So why was she bare-foot?  And what was especially puzzling was that she seemed very comfortable walking around on the railway platform in her bare feet.

And then the shoe polisher noticed that the bare feet was walking towards him. He looked up, puzzled. She asked him with a sweet voice when was the next train to Churchgate due.  He said 10 minutes.  

He wanted to ask her a question, but then he decided to keep quiet.  I could see that he was really struggling with the mystery as to : 

- was she barefoot because her shoes broke and she had to discard it?  But why then did she not buy another pair outside the station (or repaired her broken ones)?

- or probably, her shoes indeed broke and she does not have the money to buy a new pair?  But then she should have some money in her nice stylish hand-bag that she carried?

- or maybe she is absent minded - and has walked out of her house forgetting that she has not worn shoes?

- or maybe she has a fetish for walking bare-foot - maybe she realises that it makes her look especially attractive not wearing any footwear?

10 minutes later as the train approached the platform, the girl reached out into her hand-bag, took out a plastic envelope in which was packed a pair of neat black leather shoes.  She put on the shoes, and then boarded the train.

The shoe polisher now had an even more confused look.  He kept staring at the compartment into which the girl had got into as the train left the station.  

He then shrugged his shoulders and got back to scanning feet - some mysteries in life will remain mysteries.