Eternal Romantic

A husband for forty years...

2012-02-12T21:13:00.000-08:00

I’ve had the pleasure of knowing and working closely with R.V. Rajan, one of the youngest to head an ad agency before he went on to accomplish greater things, including the establishment of the World Association of Newspapers and News Publishers (WAN-IFRA) office in Chennai. He’s been active in the Rotary, the Public Relations Society of India and many other bodies, and now, well past retirement age, he spends his time fruitfully – writing. His articles regularly appear in newspapers and magazines and it is usually a pleasure to read them. In his book and in several of his writings, it is evident that he’s had a wonderful marriage and he and his wife love each other deeply, the sort of mature love one talks about after a certain age. Not everyone is fortunate to have such luck. Rajan is. And here’s wishing him and his wife many more years together… Here is the unedited version (including all the exclamation marks) of an article he’s just written:

I am writing this piece, on the morning of 26th January 2012 when the country is celebrating its 62nd Republic Day – a day when my wife and I lost our respective freedom 40 years ago. Yes! It is our 40th wedding anniversary!
I cannot believe that forty years have just flown by since we got married at Sivakami Kalyana Mandapam on Radhakrishnan Salai in Chennai where the South Indian fast food giant Saravana Bhavan is operating today!

I was 30 years old when I took the plunge; a “late comer” to the marriage scene of those days! My parents were obviously a worried lot! My mother in her relentless pursuit to find a bride for me appealed to every single God in her Pooja room! She even visited Siddhi Vinayak Temple in Prabhadevi in Bombay for twenty one weeks on Tuesdays seeking my favorite elephant god’s help! Lo & Behold; within a month of completing her vow, God answered her prayers! She received a daughter-in-law called Prabhavathy!

We started our married life in Delhi where I was working as a Senior Manager in an Ad Agency. Within thirteen months of our marriage, we gave the greatest present to our parents – grand-parenthood! Our daughter Kavita was born. A year later we shifted to Chennai, had two more lovely children - Sowmya & Balaji, and then moved to our own independent House in Shastri Nagar, Adyar. Prabha had to face the usual problems that a typical Indian housewife faces in a joint family system. She overcame her problems to start a new chapter in her life, giving full vent to her talents in writing, singing, gardening and other hobbies she acquired on the way!

In due course, our children got married, to partners of their choice, whom my wife and I helped to identify!! My daughters have blessed us with four grand children ( good balance of 2 boys and 2 girls) who are now aged between 8 and 15, while my son who got married 3 years ago is yet to open his account! Now a review of our forty years of marriage – was it a successful union, have we lived up to each other’s expectations? Is it a happy marriage?

From my point of view I would say a big yes. My wife has more than lived up to my expectations over the years! Befitting our Indian culture, she helped me look after my family, which included my aging parents. As I was busy with my career and involved with several voluntary organizations, she did a great job of balancing duty to the family and to me. Being a social animal that I was, she attended parties and also hosted plenty of them at home as well. It must have been tough but she did an admirable job.

A fast learner, she overcame several of her initial inhibitions to become a wonderful partner, good daughter-in-law, lovely mother and above all a great homemaker! In the last two decades of her life, she has acquired an identity of her own and walks tall in our social circles! I am certainly proud of her achievements.

What has been my role in this arranged marriage? I believe I have genuinely helped my wife in coming out of her shell. Actively helped her to develop her talents for writing, singing etc. Published a collection of her short stories in Tamil which helped showcase her hidden talents to the world. Far from being a MCP, unlike most of the Indian husbands, I have tried to be a women`s libber in a man`s world! Working shoulder to shoulder with her on many fronts - doing most of the household shopping, helping her in the kitchen when necessary or getting her manuscripts in Tamil typed, proof read them and send them to the publications and always extending a helping hand during parties at home. I have sincerely tried to be an equal partner in this joint venture! We have had our share of fun traveling around the world and within the country.

In spite of the usual quota of differences, misunderstandings and shouting matches involved in any marriage, because of our “forgive and forget policy”, we have never allowed our differences to be carried forward to the next day.

On this special occasion, (when I have completed forty years of being the husband of the same wife!), I thank the Lord for blessing me with a happy marriage and my wife for making it happen! As far as I am concerned it has been a truly successful union.

I wonder what my wife has to say. I must request her to write her piece, which she would probably write in Tamil, her innate language of communication!

It’s always best to be honest with news, and objective with views

2012-01-22T06:02:00.000-08:00

One upon a time, radio was the ‘new media’. When black-and-white television arrived, it brought a whole new experience in communication. The advent of colour television rooted viewers to the drawing rooms in many Indian homes. When CNN beamed the Gulf War live in 1991, it heralded a new dawn in terms of television viewing experience. And then, of course, the Internet changed human habits like never before. Yet, the newspaper continues to hold out. At a seminar on new media in Kolkata, some pertinent points affecting news dissemination were made, with Ravindra Kumar, editor and managing director of The Statesman, driving home some truths: there is a cost involved to effective news gathering, there has been a steady breakdown in professional standards, the institution of the editor has been destroyed.

“Pick up on things that interest you so that your understanding of what happens is focused rather than diffused by an overload of information.” That was Kumar addressing students of the Surendranath College for Women, who formed the bulk of the packed audience at the inaugural of a seminar in Kolkata in January titled ‘Journalism in the age of New Media’. Picking up on thoughts shared earlier (by the other speakers), Kumar, the chief guest, having been in the journalism for more than three decades, said that if he were in their shoes today he would be hugely confused (because of the media explosion).
“If you pay peanuts, you get monkeys,” Kumar stressed, pointing out that there was a cost involved in providing credible, worthwhile information. “You are paying peanuts, therefore you are getting monkeys,” he emphasized again, going on the explain: “You’ve had a monkey in the form of the Nira Radia affair, and monkeys in various forms and sizes. Unless the citizenry decides to engage itself with the process of dissemination – and I don’t mean each one of you being a citizen journalist, you’d be falling over each other… You have to be engaged in the process in the sense that you must understand what drives a news or media organisation or whether you can repose your faith and trust in that media organisation. The problem with media explosion as we call it is that everybody is groping for a revenue model, including those who practise conventional media, like newspapers. And surely, if you are looking for accurate news, well-edited copy, well-produced newspapers, articulate television channels which give you a multiplicity of opinions and then ask you to choose, if you do not wish propaganda to masquerade as news, then you must appreciate that there is a cost involved to effective news gathering, in having a reporter check, double-check and cross-check his facts, to have a fact checker within a media organisation. And what is the cost that you wish to pay? You wish to pay indirect costs; you wish to merge the cost that you pay to be educated, or to be informed or to be presented with analysis, you wish to merge that cost with the cost you are quite happy to pay for entertainment.”
Referring to the raid on Osama’s hideout, Kumar said neither social media nor conventional media had to this day been able to provide the complete inside story of what really happened on that raid, who the source was, where the information came from, how it was planned, who the people were. “It leaves you with a frightening thought: whether in the process of embracing multiplicity of media, we are in qualitative terms emasculating every media. Why? Because we have gotten used to paying peanuts.”
Kumar drew a comparison between the evolution of cost, of consumer products and the newspaper. A tube of Colgate toothpaste, for example, cost 12 annas once; today, the same tube costs Rs 25. Cinema ticket prices have soared more than hundred-fold over the years – from Rs 3.50 to anything between Rs 350 and Rs 500. All this, while the newspaper still sells at Rs 2.50 paise or thereabouts. Why is the cost important? “Even to this day, it is the print media which has the maximum number of professional journalists out in the field. Whether in Raipur or Dantewada or Chhattisgarh, the majority of news stories are still broken by print and if they are important they are picked up by television and then they reach a national audience. If you analyse, some of the big stories that have not come out of Delhi – Delhi is a city that thrives on leaks – if you are talking about genuine news breaks, the majority of them are still coming out of print. Perhaps in some obscure newspaper you haven’t heard of… By effectively trying to analyse its (story’s) implications, print comes back into the story.”
Over a period of 20 years through a gradual process, largely self-inflicted by media owners, as a consequence of an active collaboration of the reading community, there had been a steady breakdown in professional standards, Kumar said. “Newspapers of the day are not what they were. Great newspapers, great titles carry a great deal of heritage with them but are mostly unable to replicate the achievements of their predecessors. The institution of the editor has been destroyed. It doesn’t matter anymore. And this process of dumbing down didn’t happen as a one-sided transaction. Somebody was dumbing down the media agenda, somebody was collaborating in being made dumber by the day.”
What are the consequences, Kumar asked. “We talk about the Arab Spring and social media lighting that spark of freedom. Let’s look at the places where we’ve already had that spark of freedom. Because that is where the process of the media cycle must be seen and understood. To say that Egypt has suddenly discovered the virtues of social media… tells only a small part of the story. What has it done to countries which already have freedom of expression? By several processes of reasoning what it ought to mean is, that countries that already have freedom of expression and a free press, the quality of media ought to have taken a quantum jump, whether it is the Western world or the US, or India because we have prided ourselves on having a free press. To the extent we do, there should have been an improvement in standards. And yet we are bemoaning the drop in standards. How do we explain this paradox?”
Kumar was convinced that just because there was a social media site, it did not mean that the information needs were met. “What we need to do is to arm ourselves with channels and avenues that are properly equipped to meet our needs. And that is our task as a responsible citizen and that is where engagement of people with media must come. There is a huge cost involved in collecting information. We try to give you a reasonable approximation of news as we can… and an honest a set of opinions as we can. This must be the challenge before any form of media. Honest news, or objective views, go for it… it doesn’t really matter whether it’s Facebook or Twitter. If the media of your choice gives you all this, there will be a cost involved. And if you want it, you will have to pay for it,” he said.

Picture: Prof B.K. Kuthiala, vice chancellor, Makhanlal Chaturvedi Rashtriya Patrakarita Evam Sanchar Vishwavidyalaya, Bhopal, lights the traditional lamp as (from left) Girija Shankar Sharma, head, Department of Mass Communication and Journalism, Dr Bhimrao Ambedkar University, Agra; Prof M.R. Dua, former professor, Indian Institute of Mass Communication, New Delhi; Prof V.L. Dharurkar, professor, Department of Journalism and Mass Communication, Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar Marathwada University, Aurangabad; Ravindra Kumar, editor and managing director, The Statesman; Prof Sachchidananda Joshi, vice chancellor, Kushabhau Thakre Patrakarita Avam Jansanchar Vishwavidyalaya, Raipur (partly seen); Prof Tapati Basu, head, Department of Journalism and Mass Communication, University of Calcutta; yours truly; and Uma Shankar Pandey, head, Department of Journalism and Mass Communication, Surendranath College for Women, Kolkata and the seminar convener look on.

Koodankulam nuclear plant - here's what some students think

2011-12-12T09:25:00.000-08:00

Should then Koodankulam nuclear plant be abandoned? In Tamil Nadu, what do some students think? Well, Nandini Voice for the Deprived, a Chennai-based NGO organised an essay competition for college students in the state. The objective: to provide an opportunity to the students to express their views on the subject and forward their views to the Central and state governments. According to N.S. Venkataraman, who runs the NGO (he had stood for election to the Lok Sabha earlier but was unsuccessful), 112 students participated, with women comprising 65 per cent.

The verdict: 77 per cent of the students said that the Koodankulam plant should be
commissioned, while the rest wanted it abandoned.

The majority who wanted the project to be commissioned felt:

• India has no option other than nuclear power in view of the huge scarcity of coal, fuel oil and natural gas and the latter’s rising international price. While non-conventional energy such as solar and wind power should be utilised to the maximum, they would not be adequate considering the futuristic demand for power in the country

• Given the serious shortage of power in Tamil Nadu, there is great urgency to commission the Koodankulam nuclear plant to avoid production loss of several crores of rupees.

• Many suspicions of the protesting local people such as fisheries getting affected, threat of tsunami and cyclones, radiation effects etc have been pointed out as unfoundeded by senior Indian nuclear scientists, including former President of India, Abdul Kalam. The
• leaders of the protest movement are not listening and the poor innocent people who sit in agitation cannot understand science and technology issues and depend on the leaders of the protest movement for guidance

• There is no justification to doubt the credibility and claims of Indian nuclear scientists who have repeatedly said that they would explain the safety aspects of the project to anybody who approached them. Further, possibility of accidents have not prevented people from traveling by air.

• Many arguments advanced against the project are based on suspicions, av pessimistic view and lack of understanding of the recent technology developments. Further, the leaders of the present movement give an impression that they are sworn opponents of nuclear power . There is certainly a political undertone in the protest movement

• It is unacceptable that religious outfits should take part in such agitations, which essentially concern a matter of science and technology

• Most of the protestors at the site are people from the lower income group who are innocent and who do not have the advantage of a good educational background. Quite a number of them are elderly people living in old age homes or school students and relatives of fishermen . The leaders of the protest movement persuade such people to take part in the protest because of their local contacts and proximity to the local people

The minority felt:
.
• The local people are the stakeholders and even if the majority of the people in Tamil Nadu woul want the project, it should not be implemented when the local stakeholders object

• Nuclear plant accidents have taken place in the world which cannot be ignored by local people. In the unlikely and unfortunate event of an accident occurring in the Koodankulam area, the consequences would be very severe for the local people

• Human life is more important than the issues of economic and industrial development and such development factors cannot get priority when safety concerns for human beings are prevalent, particularly when local stakeholders are not convinced

• The scientists are not able to communicate with the local people to convince them effectively, may be due to their lack of training in communication skills

• By taking a “silent stand”, the Tamil Nadu Government gives an impression that it favours abandoning the Koodankulam project. Recently, the Chief Minister has not spoken in approval of the project despite the huge controversy it has generated. In the wake of such stand by the Tamil Nadu Government, the Koodankulam project should not be implemented.

Books are magic, says Ken Spillman, author of Advaita, the Writer

2011-12-03T20:56:00.000-08:00

When Advaita leaves Delhi for boarding school in Dehrudun, she is lonely and unhappy, even though the school is the best in Asia, even though it is supposed to have a wonderful library. However, the library soon becomes a haven for Advaita as the books more than cover up for her homesickness. One day, she learns that Ruskin Bond, her favourite author, is staying close by. She wonders whether he is the same person, the author whose books she so dearly loves. She also wonders whether she can become her writer one day. Well, all this forms part of a 50-page storybook written by Ken Spillman, who was in Chennai recently to interact with children, something he loves to do.

Spillman, based in Australia, first visited India in 2006 and immediately fell in love with the country. He “soaked everything up and wanted to read and write about it.” He spent hours in the book shops of Khan Market, New Delhi, bought loads of books, read Ruskin Bond, and tried to get a hang of the kind of books that influenced children in India. In 2008, he was invited to the Mussoorie International Writers’ Festival where he met Bond, Ruskin Bond, for the first time. It was there that Spillman met Advaita Kala, a writer, whose book Almost Alone had sold well. They struck a healthy friendship even as she took him to the bookshops in central Mussoorie and got him to savour paan. Advaita had felt lonely while at the Welham School in Dehradun but felt reassured knowing that Ruskin Bond was staying close by.

Yes, Advaita the Writer is Advaita Kala’s story, simply and wonderfully narrated by Spillman for children, encouraging them to read and write. At a workshop conducted by the Spring & Zoom Centre for Literary Arts and Tulika Publishers, Spillman kept emphasising at every point that “books are magic”. To questions from anxious parents, asking him how they could get their children hooked to books, he gave the example of a child’s aunt who took the boy to a large bookstore and left him in the midst of the children’s section while she went away to search for books she wanted for herself. The boy had never shown an interest in reading before, but, left in the middle of all that “magic”, he couldn’t resist picking up a picture book or two and thumbing through the pages. Eventually, the boy grew to become a great lover of books.

Listening to Spillman talking to a group of small children at the Spring & Zoom centre and enthusing them, I was taken back in time – to my days as a schoolboy when I spent most of my spare time reading books. Spillman has now inspired me to find some time to read a book, even if it just be a few pages every day. Thank you, Ken.

For those interested in knowing more about Spillman, log on to www.kenspillman.com.

Pictures show Spillman acting out a story, interacting with children while autographing books, and parents (do fathers care at all!) listening to the author.

A book, a storyteller, and some joyous young faces

2011-11-20T06:59:00.000-08:00

It’s always encouraging to see children pick up the reading habit. Not that many do that these days. Also, parents, teachers and others who run activity centres for children, who enthuse and motivate them to read storybooks, deserve a lot of credit. Because they are really up against the odds – most children would do anything to be left undisturbed while they are glued to television watching cartons, serials and films. I know of quite a few in my family (including my cousins and others) who have children and are fighting a losing battle every day – while desperately trying to get their children (ages three onwards) away from the television set, getting them to eat properly, do their homework etc. So, getting them to read storybooks and get a broader view f the world is simply beyond them. And many of them don’t really care beyond a point; they have never taken a serious initiative as such.

A couple of enterprising women who run activity centres for children recently teamed up with Tulika Publishers to get storyteller Craig Jenkins to enact stories and interact with children at the launch of the book, In Bon Bibi's Forest. It was heartening to see many of them trooping in to the venue at the scheduled time, enjoy every moment of the evening, and taking part with inhibition. There were several parents, made of mostly mothers, who were also transported to another world. They all deserve applause because in the midst of homemaking and work and all else, they had found time to get their children to a storytelling event at 7pm. Many of them belong to another generation where the book-reading habit came more naturally, when there was no lure of television and other distractions as such. It was clear they wanted their children to experience the pleasure of reading. It was also clear to me as the evening progressed, that if parents and teachers took the initiative, it was not too difficult to coax children into reading books. The joy in their faces was so much evident. You can tell from the pictures here.

It, of course, brings into focus a subject that is always talked about – how our education system needs to change. But that’s another story.

Pictures show Proiti Roy (the illustrator), with Sandhya Rao's (the author) help, showing the children her creations; children raise copies of the book they have purchased and pose for a picture with Sandhya and storyteller Craig Jenkins; the joyous faces; and Craig in full flow as the audience laps it all up.

Sights and sounds - in the Garden City

2011-11-03T06:48:00.000-07:00

Clicked these pictures during my last visit: the first and last taken from the house where I stayed; the Ulsoor lake in passing; on the way to Jayanagar, oblivious to the world he almost forgot he had to get down; and a signboard I spotted on the way home.

A chance meeting with Moinuddin in Bangalore

2011-10-29T00:47:00.000-07:00

My Bangalore trips never fail to throw up surprises. This time, a couple of weeks ago, the weather was of course a surprise – it was just too warm for Bangalore in October – but it was a drive in an autorickshaw that produced the real one. Sometime late afternoon one day, I had enough of walking down St Mark’s and Brigade Roads, after having had done a fair bit of shopping, spending an hour inside a store looking for DVDs of old Hindi films I wanted. My legs were aching and as I stood there on the sidewalk wondering what to do, there came along an auto; the driver stopped and looked at me quizzically. So I got in and decided to head to where I was staying.

When I’m in the mood I like traveling by auto. You can sit inside and see the world go by and, more than that, if the driver is the friendly sort, you can always start a conversation and get to know a thing or two. We were chatting about the weather and how the Garden City had lost hundreds of its trees to ‘development’ when suddenly vroom! a sports bike roared past. We were on a bridge, a flyover, where overtaking was not on, but here was a youngster breaking all rules, almost like a recalcitrant child. As I perked up to spot the last of him and the monstrous vehicle, the auto driver sighed in horror. “Why does he have to do this,” he said. “You must drive, much like you eat. Don’t you like to savour and relish the food you eat? Driving is like that – you must inhale the air, get a whiff of the smells and not be in a tearing hurry. Just like you must eat slowly for food to digest well, you must drive slowly to experience the pleasure of driving,” he added.

I couldn’t agree with him more. As my eyes strayed to the meter, I was aghast. The fare showed Rs 65 while we had hardly traveled five or six kilometers. Now I’m not good at handling such situations. So I decided to stay quiet and hoped he would get me home fast. And I stopped engaging him in conversation.

When my destination arrived, I produced a 100-rupee note from my wallet and thought I’d say there was something wrong with the meter, which showed Rs 80. The driver leaned back to have a look at the fare on the meter. He smiled, said “sorry”, and went on to explain how he suddenly realised he had not restarted the meter once I had got in, how he had been wanting to tell me that all along, how he wondered whether I would take umbrage, and how, like me, he too was waiting to get quickly to the destination! I was too flabbergasted to speak. He then asked me how much I would have paid in the normal course. Before I could say anything, he nudged a 50-rupee note into my hand.

“Thank you for your gesture, what’s your name,” I asked. “Moinuddin,” he said triumphantly, his left hand raised in half-salute, his way of saying goodbye. He reversed the auto effortlessly and turned the corner. I waited there a while and wondered whether I would ever meet him again.

No picture of Moinuddin or his auto here, but of colourful Brigade Road and its surroundings.

Heritage store in Chennai shows the way

2011-10-23T06:15:00.000-07:00

There is always a lot to forward to in the second half of the year, especially after August when the weather tends to get a bit pleasant (where is the autumn of old!), the sun puts on a milder hue, and the curtains draw open for the festive season. The celebrations peak around Diwali; after the Festival of Lights, there’s only Christmas and New Year to look forward to, and of course winter in some parts of India (even the winter of old seems to have disappeared but for many, anything is better than the oppression of the heat).

Many years ago when I was in PR, I was taken on a tour of some of the major retail stores in Madras to witness firsthand the kind of shopping spree during Diwali. Many of the shop owners told me that the sales during the week preceding Diwali accounted for more than 50 per cent of the total sales during the year. I found it hard to believe then, but that seems to be the truth. For most families, purchasing something or the other for Diwali is a must, and some save up through the year to splurge during Diwali, to make the best bargains possible or to benefit from the best discounts on offer.

Retail stores and chains try their best to outdo each other to attract the customer. In Chennai for instance, the number of footfalls in stores such as Nalli’s, Pothys and Saravana Stores is to be seen to be believed. It’s almost like getting onto or out of trains in Mumbai – the surge of the crowd pushes you inside and out.

Less than two weeks ago I was in Anna Nagar, at the new retail store opened by Poppat Jamal & Sons. The name is well known – the enterprise was established in old Madras, in George Town 110 years ago before it moved to prime property on Mount Road. That’s a store worth visiting for anybody interested in buying high-quality crockery, cutlery, glassware and lighting products. You could call it a heritage block.

Those who run such stores are often happy carrying on as they have been all along, but in a changing world the younger generation who are at the helm in many of them have begun to realise that if business has to grow expansion is necessary. So, the Poppat Jamal outlet in Anna Nagar brings a cherished brand to another part of the city, in this case one of the prime areas that is a retailer’s delight (Mount Road, ever since the four-lane traffic system came into force, has lost its sheen and pride of place as a marketing hub).

There are three floors here, and you can, if you want, leisurely spend a few hours looking at the various products on display. The ambience is modern, the lighting just right, and the area devoid of any clutter. Care has even been taken to provide a history of the company (at the entrance). And, of course, it’s all air-conditioned. Am not quite sure whether the main Mount Road outlet has all these things going for it. Anyway, what more would a customer want! Yes, quality and the right price. The store has earned repute for the first; and what better time than Diwali to offer the ‘right price’, which in other words is discounting 15-20 per cent?

I was tempted to talk to the young owner, probably the fourth or fifth descendant of the man who started it all – Poppat Jamal. But things were going slow at the cash counter, with the computers playing up. And he was in the thick of things. It’s always interesting to talk to youngsters and understand their views on taking such businesses forward.

Pictures show the entrance to one of the floors; attractive glass dispensers on display; customers engaged in the magic of touch and feel as bright red balloons overlook; and the elegant reception area.

When a 7-year-old girl showed her love for reading books

2011-10-21T07:15:00.000-07:00

I love being in the midst of children. No matter whether you are tired, upset about something, or down and out, children make you come alive. It’s their innocence, curiosity for small things, witty repartee, questions (unending, sometimes) and sheer common sense that puts to shame an adult’s intellect that endear them to one and all. A few days ago, I got invited to a birthday party. She was as pretty as they come, the daughter of my friend’s sister who has spent many years in the US of A and who now likes it in China. I had never seen the little girl before and I was keen, especially after she had come home when I wasn’t around and had reportedly gone chattering non-stop to the dozen.

At the evening party, however, it took me a while to find her in the rush of family, friends, relatives and visitors. And then I spotted her, standing right in front of her birthday cake, sparkling eyes aglow, focused on the candles, on the birthday cake and an array of specially made cup cakes (they seem to be the flavour of the season, saw some of them on Master Chef). She was undoubtedly excited; perhaps overawed by the occasion or perhaps a tad shy, knowing that she was the centre of attraction.

Later, of course, she blew out the candles, cut the cake with a little help from her mother as her father proudly took pictures of her, and as her older brother watched fascinated from the sidelines. Well, girls are always so special, aren’t they? Formalities over, she quickly bounded in and out of the bedroom before settling down to sample the cakes and all the rest that was on offer.

Well, that quite wasn’t the all of it. While the adults tried to make sweet conversation (I failed miserably) after they had gorged on samosas and cakes and had their fill, I suddenly noticed the birthday girl seated in an expansive chair in the drawing room, surrounded by adults but oblivious of what or who was around her, her eyes riveted to the pages of a storybook she had received as a birthday gift. Her friends were playing in the bedroom.

In a world where they say the printed newspaper is dying and where children do not have the time or the inclination to read, I was stumped to see this little girl proving all the doomsayers wrong. What a heartwarming sight she made! I wished then that the other children who were there and many others would be inspired by her. I truly was, and I really felt having missed out in recent years all the reading I had done during my school and college days. For me, it was the sight that made the evening. Not the birthday cake, or the exquisitely made cup cakes, bless their makers.

Well, you charmed somebody almost ten times your age, Lakshmi! May the reading habit continue and perhaps you may graduate to become a writer some day. Her brother Pranav is a prolific reader, somebody whispered into my ear at the end. May be, she had picked up the habit from him. Full credit to him for that. But on her birthday, it was Lakshmi who floored this writer.

Pictures show Lakshmi blowing out the last two stubborn candles; immersed in what she probably loves doing best; and before her birthday cake(s) wondering what to do next.

Yes, Shuvo Bijoya, Pratik... and thank you for 'reconnecting''

2011-10-12T00:09:00.000-07:00

Some years ago, while on an assignment in Calcutta, I met a group of youngsters bubbling with energy, most of whom I had recruited to handle the formal processing of US visas (the company that had deputed me was then authorised to process visas for the US Consulate General in three Indian cities, including Calcutta). One day, I received news while at work in the newly furnished office that one of the youngsters had met with an accident. There were too many things driving me up the wall, and now with the accident, I was left wondering why there had to be so many twists to the assignment.

That youngster was Pratik Tarafdar; he was unconscious when a senior office colleague and I rushed to the General Hospital where somebody had ‘deposited’ him. We decided to shift him to a private hospital and getting him discharged took time, which included tipping all and sundry (we hadn’t heard of Anna Hazare’s voice then!). Until we managed to wheel him into a private hospital, which took hours and where a known doctor immediately took charge, Pratik remained unconscious and I had given up all hope. Miraculously though, he survived. And much later, after I had returned to Madras, he continued to keep in touch. He had never forgotten that accident and the efforts we took to give him a new lease of life.

Well, Pratik, I understand, is doing well these days in good old Cal. And at a time when I keep blurting out nostalgia, I receive an email that shows what Durga Puja means to the average Bengali, how times have really not changed in Calcutta, and how, sadly, the romance of letter writing has almost disappeared. Here it is, unedited (he seems to be a fairly good writer, much better than some of the reporters who send me stuff):

Exchanging Bijoya greetings are no more the "only for Bengalis" affair. Globalization has successfully made Ma Durga cosmopolitan. My friends who love Bangla more than many things, be rest assured about my affection and respect for my mother tongue. I still say "Uffff" or now famous "Ishhhh" instead of "Ouch" or "Alas" :) The mail is written in English to reach out to my friends who don't understand Bangla but truly adore and admire the spirit of Durga Pujas.

Let me wish you and your loved ones 'Shuvo Bijoya' and pray that you could steal some time from your super busy schedule to stay connected to people who matter to your happiness, who bring smile on your face when you feel low.

Of late we have mastered the art of reducing the length of our messages to 160 and then finally to 140 characters but do we always succeed to pour our heart into it? I can't, as a matter of fact and hence is this slightly longish mail. Can't help as I love it.

Seldom we wish to share our thoughts these days and restrict it to micro blogging and clicking on the 'Like' buttons. Does anyone write personalised letters any more? I remember my Baba used to buy inland letters and post cards in bulk before the Pujas and Bengali new years. All four of us - Ma, Baba, Dada and I used to write to all the relatives and wish them. It used to be a fun-filled affair - writing them and receiving from others. Now we live in "real time". It has certainly changed many things for better along with ruining certain simple yet special pleasures of life.

Hope you had a great time enjoying the holidays. No work, good food and latest gossips about the friends and acquaintances must have kept you in good spirit and humor. What about the pandal hopping? Did you have shoe bite? It would be interesting to know what special did you do this puja that you would cherish for many years.

Thanks to the weather that it didn't spoil the mood of the festivity. I missed the typical puja weather to a great extent this time. The fragrance of 'Shiuli' and the beauty of dew drops were found only in the SMSs and updates. They have rather started making their presence felt now, right after the pujas. For me it was purely family time. Lazy days spent with mother, brother and wife. Met few friends after ages just at the onset of the pujas and realised how radically the topics of our discussion change with the passage of time. The hot topics of our younger days are not warm any more.

I find Durga Puja to be probably the greatest festival of all available on earth. One event, generates so many opportunities of work. Long live Durga Puja. Long live the tradition of touching base on Bijoya Dashami. I love this sweet excuse to re-connect.

Calcutta, I miss you!

2011-10-09T01:22:00.000-07:00

The place where you are born and grow up is always special. Ask people, and nine out of ten are likely to say the same thing – no matter whether it is Asansol or Ranchi, Kanpur or Raipur, Anand or Baroda, Thiruvananthapuram or Hampi. For over centuries many people have chosen to remain in their place of birth, content to work and raise a family there, and retire and die in the hometown. Even those who ventured to distant lands have felt the urge to return and spend retired life where they grew up and studied, had friends and felt completely at home.

Of course, nowadays, after the great IT boom and scores of Indian youngsters having settled abroad – most of them in the developed world of Australia, the UK and the US, many in West Asia – chances of that much-looked-forward-to return is not on the cards, may never be. But out of that lot I’m sure there will still be some who would want to get back to a place they call home.

I was born and brought up in Calcutta and during my growing years, the city, although no longer the country’s capital, still had a lot going for it. If Bombay scored with its commercial enterprise, sense of discipline and the romantic charm that Hindu films and film stars offered, Calcutta always exuded warmth and care, where old-world charm never threatened to let go and leave. And that is how the city is even today, with the same laidback atmosphere and the Bangali Bhadrolok’s love for chai and Capstan filter remaining intact, as much as the boudi's penchant for non-stop shopping in Gariahat, the schoolchild's love for Salim's ice cream, and the college-goer's fascination for Park Street and the gorgeous girls of Loreto (the college was founded by the way in 1912).

To a casual visitor, Calcutta might sometimes almost seem like being at the edge of an abyss – an abyss of hopelessness, of despair. A friend in Chennai, speaking to a small gathering recently, took sarcastic digs at the City of Joy, where apparently he had spent a few years studying – not in a school that was top draw then (must have deteriorated further) or a sought-after school. He was speaking from impressions gained from that influence; even so, I was left wondering how somebody who had stayed in the city, a city known for its generous heart, could speak so disparagingly.

Memories of Calcutta never fail to bring me alive - of my good old friends, and my days in Don Bosco and St Xavier's. This year I suddenly realised that I had missed out on the pujas the past 28 years! Although I do go there once a year, I have never made it during Durga Puja.

I belong to what I call the ‘sandwich generation’, sandwiched between the old world and the new, where nostalgia often gets the better of the present. I also happen to be an ‘uproot’ (I know it’s a verb, but never mind); years ago, my mother had judiciously decided to uproot half the family and head for Madras. For some reason (many, really) the city never really grew on me. I always belonged to Calcutta. My heart is always there.

An 'ode' to a special friend...

2011-09-18T08:46:00.000-07:00

She likes to swim with the dolphins, hold a tiger cub in her arms and be a horse whisperer… whatever that means. She advertises herself as a crackpot, a mad-hatter… it’s not very difficult for me to comprehend, because I’m an unorthodox person myself although I’d prefer to hold a pup in my arms rather than a cub… Well, it’s been a meeting of minds – this young woman and I. And from out of the blue she had appeared...

However, what has bound us together in a sense is our common upbringing - she grew up in Jamshedpur, I in Calcutta, she was an ace swimmer and state badminton player, I was a school footballer, she is an animal lover and so am I, she’s had connections with Anglo-Indians and so have I, she seems to bear nostalgia for the old and so do I… the list could probably go on…

Common interests apart, our lives seem to have a followed a particular pattern as well. Her father retired in the mid-1980s and the family moved south. My dad retired in 1978 and we hung on in Calcutta till 1983 when my mother, whose decision was law, decided to move south. A year after her mother arrived in Kerala, she died, possibly find God’s Own Country not really the place she wanted to be. My dad passed away less than a year after he arrived in Madras; it was clear the city was not where he belonged and he found the uprooting too difficult to take.

Thrown into his state of disarray was my state of unemployment, but by the time I got the job of my life in a Brooke Bond tea estate in the Niligiris it was too late – he had decided to leave. For her, it was a double whammy – her father died less than a year of her mother passing away – four days to her first anniversary. So, perhaps you understand what it means when you say your world can turn topsy-turvy in the space of a year.

While she has, after a lot of hardship, got used to living life in Bangalore and loves the place. I wouldn’t still, after 25 years and more call Chennai home. I love Bangalore though – there is still an old world charm to the city, especially in the Cantonment area, that is hard to miss. And then, there’s the weather that Calcutta doesn’t have (save in the winter), weather that is a balm for weak spirits and jagged nerves.

At this stage, relocating to Kolkata is simply not on, although my sister is there and almost a thoroughbred Bengali at that. But visiting the City of Joy, whenever I want to, is certainly on the calendar. After all, there’s absolutely no match for steaming hot Bangla masala chai in a hand-crafted bhand and inhaling sweet cigarette smoke whether you are standing at Gariahat more or Ballygunge Phandi or Camac Street or even outside the Metro Theatre that once was.

There’s no moral of a story here… no finales… no ending as such… Life goes on… but it’s wonderful, and sometimes even mysterious, when you find you’ve hit a chord with someone you hardly knew. That’s why life can be so fascinating, so inexplicable, so much so that you wonder whether is it possible at all!

Well, on a Sunday evening when the earthquake in Sikkim has carved a territory encompassing several states, and when a ‘drowsy numbness pains my sense as if of Hemlock I had drunk’, here’s cheers to good old times, to people of the same stock, and of course to nostalgia and healthy friendship!

Madras Week: Hotel Green Park scores yet again

2011-09-01T05:51:00.000-07:00

Whether Madras Week celebrations received overwhelming or muted response this year, activities at Hotel Green Park, Vadapalani, went on an even keel and the response, like in previous years, was quite overwhelming and encouraging. There were quite a few who had travelled long distances to reach the venue and it was only after the clock struck eight that some began to slowly wend their way back home.

As usual it was the programme for children that set the tone for the evening. When Binita and Shrimati of Spring into Reading set about the task a few years ago, organising events for children during Madras Week, little would they have imagined the kind of response the events would generate. When Gargi of Zoom Kids joined this year, the three, under the Spring and Zoom (an activity centre for children) banner, made the most of an afternoon, welcoming children to experiment and create products using the potter’s wheel and palm leaves. Supported by resource persons from DakshinaChitra, ‘Madras – experience your cultural heritage’ was open to children five years and above.

Later, there was a peppy demonstration by the students, of ‘Madras: Then and now’, complete with song, dance and theatre, touching upon aspects such as traditional games and how children spend their time today compared to those in the past.

For Chithra Madhavan, Hotel Green Park is almost home. She has lectured here on two previous occasions. This year, she chose to make a presentation on ‘Lesser known temples of Chennai – some more’. As usual, hers was a thoroughly researched presentation, pleasing to the ear and easy on the eye. It’s indeed a shame that many of our old temples remain neglected with inscriptions scraped away and gaudy paint plastered over. Chithra points this out time and again, which only shows that it must be the same story in many temples and how it has impacted a lover of heritage like her.

Incidentally, Chithra completed her M.A. and M. Phil. from the Department of Indian History, University of Madras and her Ph.D. from the Department of Ancient History and Archaeology, University of Mysore. She has published five books - History and Culture of Tamil Nadu (in two volumes) and Vishnu Temples of South India (in three volumes). She has also co-edited a book South India Heritage which contains 500 articles on various aspects of South India’s heritage and culture.

Pradeep Chakravarthy made quite an interesting presentation, on how ‘Kodambakkam (Puliyur) was the centre of Madras’. He took a look at how Madras was organised geographically in the 9th-12th centuries, what some troublesome local governance issues were and how they were resolved. There is very little about Puliyur in the public domain and based on what Pradeep explained, there is a whole world out there that needs to be researched. It only shows how little we know about our own local history. Pradeep’s attempt I thought was remarkable simply because there is so little material to base a presentation like his on. I would urge him to conduct research himself, if he can. That might form the background to an interesting book.

Pradeep has two books to his credit – on Thanjavur and the Vahanas. A student of KFI and a graduate from Madras Christian College, Jawaharlal Nehru University and the London School of Economics, he is an executive coach for senior leaders in Infosys Technologies. His articles appear frequently in The Hindu and Business Line.

Pictures show some children waiting expectantly as a little girl gets her fingers thoroughly soiled on the potter’s wheel; a resource person from DakshinaChitra showing a boy how he can be creative with palm leaves; children from the local Corporation school show off their exhibits; a father and daughter look for something interesting to read as Malavika from Book and Borrow looks on; and a packed hall at Green Park.

Learning a thing or two about divine grace, courtesy R.V. Rajan

2011-08-29T22:50:00.001-07:00

Divine Grace and Blessings is the headline veteran adman and rural marketing expert R.V. Rajan has given his piece. After retiring and quitting many of the official positions he held (he continues to be chairman of Anugrah Madison), Rajan, who had a sparkling career, now spends his time visiting temples and other places of interest with his wife, Prabha, and also writing articles that gets published either in The Hindu or Business Line or in magazines such as Eve’s Touch. His writing is free-flowing, he uses simple language and talks about day-to-day things that anybody can relate to. I always find some message or the other subtly told through his writings. Here is the unedited version of what he sent me today:

Divine Grace (Anugraham) & Elders Blessings (Aashirvadham) are two values which my parents taught me early in life.

My mother was a very pious woman, who celebrated every religious occasion with reverence and great devotion, with appropriate Poojas performed at home. Whether it was a simple `Kardia Nonbu` or the more elaborate ` Varalakshmi Vratham`, she would spare no pain to make the occasion an opportunity to appease her chosen God / Goddess.

While her favourite Lord was Rama of the Ramayana fame, my father always claimed that Guruvayurappan little Krishna of Guruvayur in Kerala, was his chosen deity whose name he kept invoking whenever he felt happy or depressed. Like millions in the world, both my parents also believed that whatever be their problem, the Lord will always provide a solution!

They also believed in openly expressing their respects to elders. Any elderly person visiting our home was showered with genuine hospitality and made to feel like a VIP. No one left the home without taking the simple meal my mother served, with lots of love! Invariably before the elders took leave, my parents would prostrate before them seeking their blessings! The visiting elders more than touched by the gesture, would be generous in their blessings. Whenever we went on a visit to South on holiday, my parents would make it a point to visit all the elders in the family seeking their blessings.

As for me Lord Balaji of the Tirupathi fame and Vinayaka the elephant God are my chosen deities. Like my parents, I also totally surrender to the Lord not only during hours of crisis but on a daily basis whenever I have the time and opportunity. I am no good at pooja rituals, which are performed by my wife who is proficient in them. My belief is expressed in the form of invoking the Lord`s name, as often as I can, silently.

Keeping elders happy and getting their blessings is also something which I have believed in all my life. Though old age and physical problems are preventing me from prostrating before the elders I do not fail to touch the feet of the elders in the typical North Indian; `Pai Lagey` style, even now! I feel thrilled when they bless me from the bottom of their hearts! I can say with confidence that my bank balance of Elders` blessings is always overflowing.

I believe that Gods grace and elders` blessings have played a major part in my leading a fulfilling life apart from my relentless pursuit of my dreams and goals. I have even named my home and company invoking the Divine Grace; ANUGRAH!

Coming to the younger generation, judging by the turnout of youngsters in places of worship and other spiritual get-togethers of modern day `Gurujis` of all shades, I feel that belief in God is certainly growing among the youth of the country.. Whether it is Rama, Krishna, Allah or Christ, every young man has his chosen deity or a `Guruji` whom he regularly invokes for moral support in his hours of trials and tribulations.

I also find the practice of paying respects to elders, by touching their feet is prevalent among all sections of North Indians, wherever they are located,, even today. You can see an ample display of this fine gesture among the younger generations at Railway stations, Airports, other public places and of course at family functions. It might look perfunctory to some but I always admire at the spontaneity with which the act is performed by North Indian youngsters, even in Chennai. Whereas in the South, particularly in Tamilnadu and among Tamilians, the concept of prostrating before elders, the traditional form of paying respects is slowly fading amongst the younger generation. It is especially difficult for the Vada Kalai Iyengars (a sect of Vaishnavites sporting the `U` Namam on the forehead) because they have to perform the act of prostrating- four times, each time they meet an elderly person!

It is quite a punishment, especially for the newly married couple at Weddings, when they are forced to go around the wedding hall prostrating before every elderly person in the crowd. Of course, a wise young man found a solution to this problem by requesting elders to assemble in groups so that he could perform a `one for all` ritual to get their blessings. Saving effort and time!! The idea is catching on even at homes where families get-together on occasions. The fact is today`s younger generation in the South has to be persuaded to pay respects to elders in the traditional way. It is also true that the stresses and strains of modern life have made them physically unfit to perform this arduous form of paying respect!

I suppose that the present day parents and grandparents should feel happy if their children or grandchildren or nephews and nieces express their love and respect in whatever form they choose- if at all they feel like expressing their respects!

Rajan appreciates feedback at rvrajan42@rediffmail.com

Madras Week: Unsung heroes (A. Ananda Kumar)

2011-08-28T07:30:00.000-07:00

Probably the youngest hero of Madras Week was A. Ananda Kumar who exhibited his paintings at the C.P. Ramaswami Aiyar Foundation. Kumar graduated this year from the Government College of Fine Arts, Chennai and is the first degree holder in Fine Arts from his village Koralpakkam in Thiruvannamalai District.

When I visited the g Vennirul Art Gallery there was no visitor. The lights were off and somebody came to switch them on as I entered. The sad part in some of these exhibitions is that there are hardly enough people interested in coming to see what’s on offer.

Whether it’s the C.P. Ramaswami Aiyar Foundation or the Gallery Sri Parvati or other galleries, it all looks good for the record, to have exhibits during Madras Week, but in reality, except for the inaugural if there is one, you will hardly find people coming in. Lakshmi Venkataraman, who runs Gallery Sri Parvati, has echoed my view many times. She should know. Her gallery, done up fairly well, in the centre of the city, in Alwarpet, does not attract many visitors during Madras Week.

So, I had the whole Vennirul Art Gallery to myself and spent some time looking at the exhibits before an officer from the Foundation trooped in, probably signaling that my time was up.

Outside I was pleasantly surprised to see Ananda Kumar immersed in what he does best – paint. As he wielded his brush, his eyes were focused on an old building on the campus, probably one that might have been the residence of Sir C.P. Ramaswami Aiyar.

Pictures show some of Kumar’s work – the flow of the Cooum against a backdrop of heritage buildings, of St Andrew’s Church and Victoria Public Hall, and of the Mylapore Temple tank. I managed a picture of Kumar even as he was providing final touches to his painting of the building that formed the background.

Madras Week: A flavour of early 20th Century Madras

2011-08-26T23:40:00.000-07:00

Last year, Nanditha Krishna of the C. P. Ramaswami Aiyar Foundation had organised during Madras Week an exhibition on Fort St. George. The exhibition included aquatints, etchings and engravings from private collections, maps and sketches.

This year, she had two exhibitions running – one, a display of paintings by A. Ananda Kumar and the other, a display of some splendid photographs taken by the late M. K. Rangaswamy Aiyangar – of Madras and its environment in the beginning of the last century.

Let’s look at Aiyangar’s pictures first. M. K. Rangaswamy Aiyangar was a prolific writer and photographer. Born in 1886 in Srivilliputhur, he was a scholar of art, culture, religion and music, having written many articles on the subjects in leading dailies like The Hindu, Indian Express and the weeklies and magazines of his times. He authored several books, among which Thyagaraja Thatvam and Mahabalipuram – A Guide Book with illustrations of photographs taken by him are noteworthy.

Aiyangar was an eminent photographer and, according to Nanditha, will be remembered for his famous photographs of the early 20th century Madras and Tamil Nadu, especially the temples. Tirumala to Tillai, his famous exhibition of pictures, was held in Madras, Tirunelveli and Kalahasti in Andhra Pradesh.

Aiyangar’s son, the late R. Madhavan, who retired from The Hindu, gifted his father’s collection of negatives and prints to the C. P. Ramaswami Aiyar Foundation library.

Here are a few of Rangaswamy Aiyangar’s pictures: a long-shot view of some of the pictures of monuments, of the Sri Thyagarajar Temple in Thiruvottriyur, of a person feeding vultures in Thirukkalukundram, of the Sangu Thirtham Tank there, and of the St Thomas Church on the Little Mount.

Madras Week: Unsung heroes (John Moses, Winston Henry, Venkatesh)

2011-08-25T22:49:00.000-07:00

It appears kerosene was first imported to Madras by Best & Company in 1879. It was sold in tins by the brand names Chester and Monkey. Kerosene lamps were also sold on carts till the late 1970s. With the import of kerosene from abroad, lamps from England, Germany, Hungary, France, Japan and the United States followed. According to John Moses, who had an astonishing display of lamps at the Padma Seshadri School in KK Nagar, the lamp industry was highly competitive in these countries – in producing lamps, wicks, chimneys and globes. Most of the lamps then were made of brass, glass and porcelain.

Moses and Winston Henry (who helps put up aquariums and aviaries), narrated at length their passion for collecting anything old. Moses said his collection of old lamps, watches, pens and cycles was so large that there was hardly enough space at his home in Kilpauk to keep them. “My family just manages to tolerate me,” he said.

Winston said just about the same thing. The passageways in his house are lined with large containers filled with old books. He had brought along the 1870 edition of Francis Buchanan’s ‘Journey from Madras through the countries of Mysore, Canara and Malabar’, published by Higginbotham and Company, Madras. The pages were almost falling apart and the years had taken its toll – but you were taken to another world just by grasping the book.

Together, Moses and Winston made a difference to the exhibition at the school. They also took pains in describing the displays to all those who seemed interested to know and learn more.

Another participant who needs special mention was Venkatesh, a peon at the Padma Seshadri School. He has been an avid collector of coins and has always sought an outlet to exhibit them. Two years ago, he came up with a similar display. School duties have not blunted his enthusiasm to pursue his hobby. His is an example many should follow.

And these are the people who make Madras Week what it is. They toil hard all day long, expect little publicity, prefer to keep a low profile, are happy with even the smallest word of appreciation, and treat every person with dignity.

Pictures show Moses before his prized collection, Winston going about his job of explaining to visitors, Francis Buchanan’s book, a coloured illustration on one of the pages of the book, and Venkatesh beaming before his collection.

Madras Week: Unsung heroes (S.A. Govindaraju)

2011-08-25T00:53:00.001-07:00

The Madras Heritage Lovers Forum put up a wonderful show at the Padma Seshadri School in KK Nagar. Most of the members are past 50, with consultant architect D.H. Rao, who organised and ‘choreographed’ the entire show, well past 70. More than anything, it was rare commitment on display, a passion for a city and its heritage.

The forum is made up of Rao, V. Prabhakar, Winston Henry, S.A. Govindaraju, who has an amazing collection of old books and magazines, John Moses, Lazer, Roland Nelson and Hemant Chopra. Some of them were there throughout at the three-day event, standing for the most part in a hall without the air-conditioning system turned on.

Govindaraju is 80 years old but his passion for old books and magazines hasn’t diminished a bit. He has been collecting them for more than four decades and has over 5000 books and 10000 magazines, paper clippings and advertisements. A retired labour law consultant, he runs a small garage where he sells these books. What is remarkable is that he is able to identify each of the books just by the look of them – the author and publisher’s names, even the date of publication.

Govindaraju has books on law, philosophy, literature, history, wildlife, poetry, encyclopedias and books on film stars and politicians. He has a large collection of R.K. Laxman’s cartoons as well.

Every day, he spends his time in the garage (Rare Books, R.A. Puram, 2nd Main Road) with his collection, waiting for people with a similar passion, a passion that is hard to find these days.

Pictures show some of the material on display – Manohar Devadoss’s exquisite s pen-and-ink drawings; Govindaraju’s books; and one (Madras – Chennai Pattinam) of several fascinating articles by Nanditha Krishna (director of the C.P. Ramaswami Aiyar Foundation) that had appeared in The Illustrated Weekly of India in the 1970s.

Madras Week: Spontaneity lacking, need for new energy

2011-08-24T01:22:00.000-07:00

It’s been a long break with the blog, with work and other things keeping me company most of the time. It’s Madras Week again, but after seven years of playing the catalyst role in putting events together in some places, I get the feeling that a lot of it is not as spontaneous as it should be.

We’ve had two press conferences – one in June to announce broadly the celebration, and the second a week ahead of Madras Week, to drive home the specifics. What if we, the catalysts or coordinators, did not convene the press meets – would we then have had as many ‘celebrations’ of the city or events that are there now? My answer is ‘no’.

People, whether they be individuals, heading schools, colleges or institutions have to be pushed a bit to get events off the starting block. There’s only one school that seems to have earmarked Madras Day and Madras Week in the school calendar. So, why is the spontaneity missing? Does love of one’s city not amount to too much, or doesn’t heritage and allied subjects not rank high at all? I would say heritage does not rank high in a person’s list of priorities.

So, how do we get more people to celebrate the founding of a city? To the best of my knowledge, Chennai is perhaps the only city in India to have such a weeklong celebration bracketing its birthday. There are no straightforward answers to the question as much as there is no short-term solution. The best way is to instill the idea in the minds of schoolchildren from all schools so that when they grow up, they realise the value of protecting and conserving the heritage of the place where they spent their growing years.

The other point is that over the years we’ve been having the same people speaking at various forums. Of course, it’s a pleasure to listen to city historians S. Muthiah and Randor Guy and V. Sriram but we need many others who can speak or make presentations on a variety of other subjects connected to the city. Where are the Tamil speakers? Gnanai Sankaran, Badri Seshadri or Ashokamitran are fairly good speakers and people will come to hear them, but they, and I’m sure there are many more like them, are not part of the week’s celebrations this year. What I’m trying to say is that often it is the same message that goes out, from the same speakers. I think some of the older speakers must make way for new and younger ones.

Overall, it’s schoolchildren who are benefiting the most, from participating in quiz contests, essay and drawing competitions, in exhibitions, and by listening to speakers. The three-day exhibition of Madras memorabilia, put together by the Chennai Heritage Lovers Forum headed by the indefatigable D.H. Rao, at the Padma Seshadri School in KK Nagar was a success, with students from many neighbouring schools coming to have a look.

However, a rather disappointing note was struck at the Jaigopal Garodia School in Anna Nagar, when Chandrachoodan Gopalakrishnan failed to live up to expectations and rather than showing some of the hundreds of pictures he must have taken during his ‘photowalks’, decided to get teachers of the school to demonstrate how they took history classes. His larger message was to get schoolchildren out of the classrooms, a message that we have often heard, and the point was not lost. But if he had enough pictures to show or stories to tell it might have made up for something, but it wasn’t to be.

Pictures show the chart displayed by students of Padma Seshadri School, KK Nagar, at the entrance to the exhibition; the students and an enthusiastic Mrs YGP, dean and director, PSBB Group of Schools await the start of the programme along with S. Muthiah; Ramanujam, chief postmaster general (second from right) and Indira Vaidyanathan, principal of the school; G. Vijaykumar, principal, Jaigopal Garodia School, Anna Nagar seems surprised as his teachers are called by the speaker to demonstrate; and one of the teachers makes a spirited response amidst thunderous applause from the children.

Errant drivers, clogged lakes, felled trees... woes that plague the erstwhile Garden City

2011-08-01T06:29:00.000-07:00

Last week, I was in the erstwhile Garden City once again, part business, part pleasure. Cloudy skies, an occasional drizzle and a continuous wind kept my energy going. My luck with the city’s autorickshaw drivers continued to run, small mercies. But I was surprised to read in the newspapers about the notoriety of some of the drivers. My cousin pooh-poohed my premise that the drivers there were far better than the ones in Chennai. “You have to be here to understand,” he grunted. So, perhaps what a friend had insisted earlier was true, after all.

And now, there is a proposal to introduce 40000 new autos to the city. Will there be space for all of them, I wonder. Thankfully, it remains just a proposal and let’s hope it stays that way for some time to come. Talking about drivers of all forms of vehicles in Bangalore, it's almost the law of the jungle that rules - might is right.

Bangalore residents are having much to worry about these days, it appears. Yesterday, a group of them in Kaikondanapalli (off Surajpur Road) marched down the streets demanding that the Kaikondanapalli Lake and other lakes in the city be cleansed and restored to their natural beauty. What a shame that nature has to bear the brunt in the face of senseless development!

I took a late evening walk around the Ulsoor Lake and was happy to see clear waters – thanks to an army operation some weeks ago. Part of the lake area still stinks though, with all kinds of debris floating. What is the civic administration doing? We all know what the government ministers are up to. It’s the same everywhere in India – name one state where there is good governance. Gujarat? Probably.

The other demonstration in Bangalore last week was the one against the felling of trees. Many trees on Sankey Road are on the chopper’s block, for the sake of a flyover perhaps or a rail-over-bridge or some other monstrosity. But the innocent trees (how many years does it take for a sapling to grow into a tree!) have to suffer for no fault of theirs.

It’s not Sankey Road alone. As I was walking across the street near the Thom’s supermarket I saw the remnants of a felled tree. You talk to any Bangalorean and s/he will tell you how ‘they’ massacred the trees on MG Road, promising a replant for posterity’s sake; but will that ever happen? Which civic administration is willing to listen to the voice of residents these days? Unless you have money and muscle power, which not many middle-class families have.

So what is the way out? I think media has to step in, and step in a big way as far as civic issues are concerned. Are civic issues discussed during prime time on national television? No. It’s politics most of the way, isn’t it. Newspapers, too, must chip in with powerful, hitting stories every second day. If the administrators refuse to listen to people’s voices, they may not like to ignore some powerful stories the media puts out. Civic issues are not glamorous issues, the reason why the media is not really taking them up the way they should. That’s the sad part. Obviously, the media has a lot of soul-searching to do and that is unlikely to happen in hurry.

Well, here are pictures of the felled tree near Thom’s and the clear waters of the Ulsoor Lake, thanks to efforts by the army at heritage conservation.

Memories of another day - in the heart of Perambur

2011-07-28T09:26:00.000-07:00

When I left Calcutta in the early 1980s and arrived in Madras, then a much gentler city, Perambur and Jawahar Nagar where we lived made up my world. Of course, it was a major change in my life as it normally is when you leave the place where you were born and grew up – leaving also friends you played with as a child, buddies who stood by you through thick and thin in teenage years, and several families with whom you had bonded closely over the years.

In Madras we chose Jawahar Nagar because my uncle, a doctor, and a few other close relatives resided there. My father was a heart patient and we thought residing close to uncle would be useful. As it turned out, father died within seconds of a major hear attack, his third. No proximity to any doctor could have saved him. He was only 64 or so and in earlier years if heart by-pass operations were as common as they are today, he might have had the courage to go for one and perhaps lived longer. The beginnings in Madras were, thus, made even more difficult for me, but how I overcame all that is a story too long to narrate.

Last weekend, I visited my uncle’s as we usually do at least once every quarter. This time, cousin in tow, I walked down some of the streets in Jawahar Nagar that had been home almost 25 years ago. It was of course not the first time I was visiting these places after two decades; but with camera in hand, yes.

Many parts of Perambur still retain their old-world charm. Many roads and streets and lanes still retain English names, such as Stapleton Road, for instance. There is one road from the flyover to Jawahar Nagar that is densely populated by Anglo-Indians. And whenever I see Anglo-Indians in strength I’m reminded of the good old days in Calcutta, where many of our neighbours were Anglo-Indians. Most of them left for Australia and New Zealand in the 1970s. Calcutta, though, still has quite a large Anglo-Indian population and I understand that this year Anglo-Indians from all over the world will converge in the city for an international meet.

Time stands still in many of the streets in Jawahar Nagar. You will find no high-rise building here. No builder has ever come to these parts eying property for a quick demolition job. It’s another matter that owners extend or refurbish buildings, but not more than two storeys. There is a lot of greenery, too. I was pleasantly surprised to still find the huge expanse of vacant poromboke land adjacent to the house we stayed, lying unused, after all these years.

Most of my friends are no longer there – and I’ve lost contact with all, except one. Those days we would sit on the grounds near the Murugan Temple late in the evenings, puff a cigarette and chat endlessly about politics, the more attractive local girls, booze and job opportunities. I was missing Calcutta badly but those evenings with friends made up for something. And soon enough, we were all on the job trail, and then our meetings got fewer and in a few years the ground had disappeared, having made way for independent houses. Yet, even today, Perambur holds lots of memories for me.

Pictures show some of the streets in Jawahar Nagar, quiet and shady, where time almost stands till, with the only give-away being the new cars; the road leading to 5th Main where I stayed; 5th Main Road, and a long shot of the building where we stayed (the promoboke land on the right still lies unused), fringed by palm and other trees.

Coming up soon... Madras Day / Madras Week

2011-07-22T09:30:00.000-07:00

Well, the Madras Week celebrations are coming up soon, and the coordinators are at work, all voluntary work, that is. The coordinators are basically more like catalysts who try and motivate people in the city, in different areas, to put up something related to the city’s heritage on Madras Day or during Madras Week, which this year is between August 21 and 28. Of course, you can always organise a programme before and after these dates; after all, the dates are more indicative than anything else (for details always check out the Web site www.themadrasday.in)

Starting off the blocks before the others, like it has been doing almost every year since the celebrations started in 2004, was Asan Memorial School. When I called Suma Padmanabhan, the principal, a couple of weeks ago for the first hello of the year (it usually happens after we coordinators have had our first meeting, which is some time in end-June), she began listing out the theme and the people they had planned to call. The fact is Asan Memorial has Madras Week listed in the school calendar – I wonder how many other schools have it. I don’t think the Padma Seshadri group of schools has it either, although they belong to the same cluster as Asan (we have what are called CBSE cluster schools now). Keep it going, Suma.

This year, Asan Memorial School has chosen the theme, ‘Our heritage in brick and mortar’ and Madras Week celebrations there will begin early – August 17 – and go on for three days. There will be an exhibition with models and charts conducted by the Social Science Department and the heritage club. Likely speakers at the inaugural and valedictory include the Nawab of Arcot, Meena Muthiah, Gopika Varma and Shreekumar Varma. There will be an inter-school heritage quiz, ‘Heritage buildings of Madras’; preliminary rounds start at 9.30am on August 18, with the finals at 11am.

Another person who is off the blocks early always is Gita, the programme officer at DakshinaChitra now. I’ve known her a long time, from the time she ran the Adyar Arts Club close to her home in Besant Nagar. Gita is fast on the uptake and you just have to say something and she ensures things happen. So, this time, she has arranged a weeklong programme (August 21-28) at DakshinaChitra, with Abhishek Dadheech showcasing ‘Photographs of Chennai City’ at the seminar hall, a drawing competition for children in the 7-13-year age group with the theme, ‘Monuments of Chennai’, and a photography competition for children in the 11-15-year age group with the theme, ‘Bazaars of Chennai’. Well done, Gita.

Last year, Lakshmi Venkataraman was not very keen on being part of Madras Week, but this year it was different. She will provide space for two evenings - on August 22, when Chandrachoodan Gopalakrishnan will present ‘Ancient Light: Madras through the eyes of a photowalker’, and on the following day, when Chitra Madhavan will talk on ‘Lesser known temples of Chennai – some more’. However, celebrations will begin early at the gallery – on August 18 – with Maniam Selven (MaSe) exhibiting his paintings, the theme being ‘Madras: My Impressions’.

As always, Ashok Kedia (Garodia’s trusted man who is in charge of the trust activity after the philanthropist’s death) and the principal at Jaigopal Garodia Scjool, Anna Nagar, were only too pleased to host an afternoon of Madras Week celebrations. It’s on August 23, when Chandrachoodan Gopalakrishnan will suitably vary his presentation ‘Ancient Light: Madras through the eyes of a photowalker’ for a different audience comprising mainly students and teachers.

One of the heavyweight programmes this year (like in most years) is likely to be at Hotel Green Park, Vadapalani, where Spring and Zoom, KK Nagar, an activity centre for children, will welcome children to experiment and create exquisite products using the potter’s wheel and palm leaves, in what will be called ‘Madras – experience your cultural heritage’. Supported by resource persons from DakshinaChitra, it will be open to children five years and above. There will also be ‘Madras: Then and now’, a poster presentation by students.

Namma Arcot Road has lined up a pretty impressive run of speakers: Shreekumar Varma, Chandrachoodan Gopalakrishnan and Pradip Chakravarthy. Pradeep, as enthusiastic as always, will talk about how Kodambakkam is really the centre of Madras; he says he will look at how Madras was organised geographically in the 9th-12th centuries, what were some troublesome local governance issues and how they were resolved.
And for those who choose to stay back till the end of the show, there could be a special buffet dinner waiting at Hotel Green Park.

'The games we played', by R.V. Rajan

2011-07-12T21:36:00.000-07:00

R.V. Rajan is my senior by several years, but more than for his age, it for his leadership skills, simplicity, ability to don various hats, positive attitude and enterprise that I respect him. Of course, we’ve had quite a long association, the bonds growing stronger while we worked together at WAN-IFRA (World Association of Newspapers and News Publishers), with him as MD, being my boss in a sense although I was consultant. And then we also got to work together on a magazine produced by the Rural Marketing Association of India.

Other than being chairman of Anugrah Madison, Rajan today leads a fairly retired life, officially, that is. But in ‘retirement’, he has found many avenues to keep himself busy and to be productive. He is now a sought-after speaker in lecture circles, especially if it has to do with rural marketing, an area he is an acknowledged guru. After authoring a highly readable book, Rajan is now seriously pursuing writing, and his articles appear frequently in newspapers magazines, with a piece on his visit to the 106 divya desams in The Hindu being one of the last I had read. All the pieces, I’m sure, will find place in another book some day soon.

Today morning, I was surprised to see his mail, with an interesting title: Games we played. Here it is, reproduced with his permission, and like most of his pieces written in freewheeling style, I’m sure you’ll read till the end. I particularly enjoyed the part about gilly-danda. Here goes:

The other day my six year old grandson was looking grumpy and irritable. When I asked him what his problem was; he said, “I am bored! Nobody is playing with me.” Even a three-year-old child today talks of getting bored.

My mind raced back to the time when I was a kid, growing up in a Mumbai chawl with scores of kids of all age groups for company, I never knew the meaning of the word ‘boring’. The moment I returned from school, I would dump my school bag in the house and run out to play with other boys of my age group in the compound area of the building complex where my family was staying.

Even in those days cricket was the most popular game – the underhand variety, with tennis balls and stumps drawn on the walls of the building. It was not uncommon for the aggressive batsman in the group breaking the glass panes on the windows of the flats nearby trying to hit a six. As we grew older and started playing with the ‘seasoned’ ball (as the red cricket ball was called), the group had to move to the nearby Matunga Gymkhana Ground opposite R A Podar College of Commerce where I studied. I remember when I acquired a proper cricket bat and ball; I became a hero among the group. I was always included in our team, playing matches against other teams.

Playing marbles or gilly-danda or top (pambaram as it is called in Tamil) were other games popular among the boys. For playing marbles, one had to invest a small amount to buy a set of multicolor marbles, contributing to a pool of marbles, and then challenge others for a game. The game involved throwing the collection of marbles a little away from where you stood, and the boys would take turns to hit one specific marble in the spread out. Whoever got the aim right was entitled to keep the entire lot of marbles on the floor. Boys with perfect aim would have multiplied their collection of marbles by the end of the game…several times.

Gilly-danda involved hitting a small rounded wooden piece (gilly) with sloping edges on either side with a longer stick (danda). The knack was to hit the end of the gilly first to make it rise from the ground and then hit it hard with the danda to send it flying as far as one could. The experts among the boys would keep hitting the small piece again and again moving forward around the compound of the building with the others running behind them. Those boys who were not able to lift the gilly from the ground or could not connect it with the danda after it rose from the ground were declared out from the game.

Playing the top required special skills. You tied a strong string around the ridges of the conically shaped top with a bulging head, at the bottom of which there was a pin on which the Top could be spun. Keeping the end of the string between your thumb and forefinger, you would fling the top, which then landed on the ground, spinning beautifully for some time. It is also an art to pick up a spinning top from the ground on to your palm without breaking its momentum. Some boys were also experts in the art of flinging the top with a reverse swing, managing to get the spinning top directly on to their palms without hitting the ground. I must confess that I was not good at it and envied the boys who could perform this trick.

And there were games like kho-kho, based on the popular musical chair concept, featuring boys and girls instead of the chairs or Hu-Thu-Thu (kabaddi... kabaddi in Tamil). I also remember playing the “leap frog game” in which one of the boys would stand at the centre, bending at his waist while the others would run fast to jump over the boy using both their hands, placed on the back of the boy as a lever, to propel themselves forward. Once a boy suddenly decided to stand up while I was about to jump over him, sending me for a toss, resulting in a deep cut on my forehead. Even today, I carry the scar left behind due the stitches required to help me recover from the injury.

Hiring a bicycle by the hour and going around the buildings was another activity which the boys and girls indulged in. A serious accident involving the cycle that I had hired put an end to this activity as my mother refused to give any money for this purpose again.

Flying kites during certain seasons was an exciting activity in which even the adults in the building complex participated, at times.

If it was raining or for any reason we could not undertake outdoor activities then there were always games like carom, chess, cards and board games that would keep us busy. Even Pallankuzhi a traditional indoor activity using a wooden board with 14 hollow portions and a collection of sea shells or Dhaya Kattam (modern day Ludo), were popular with both boys and girls.

The variety and choice of games that we could play then were mind-boggling, and we had the freedom to do what we liked, as long as we did not get into trouble which necessitated the interference of our parents.

I pity the modern day kids, many of them growing up in apartment complexes without adequate space for outdoor games. Even if there are playing grounds in the locality, the paranoid parents do not allow them to go and play because of security concerns. The parents who can afford o fcourse send their children to special coaching classes for cricket, basketball or football etc. paying a hefty fee. Even these are aborted because of the priority given to attending the mandatory special classes on different subjects, considered necessary if the boys/girls have to perform well in their classes! The end result is that the boys and girls are always glued to a variety of gizmos and electronic media, entertaining themselves with games and cartoons at home. Missing the fun of outdoor activities, so necessary for the development of the body and mind of kids. And also for lessons in relationship management.

The only solution to this problem is for schools to have a compulsory games period for all classes at the end of every day before the children leave the school for their homes. If the school has space constraints then such periods could be rotated between different classes on different days.

If the situation is allowed to be continued, I am afraid the modern day kids will turn out to be intelligent zombies unable to face the real world. Young parents and concerned grand parents, it’s worth thinking about it.

When the Amrolias threw open their gates for animal welfare

2011-07-10T09:37:00.000-07:00

The Boat Club Road is a great address to have. That the Chennai Adoption Drive has managed to get parking place there is no small achievement. But all thanks (although she hates being thanked) to Sharon Amrolia, an animal lover, who impressed me quite a bit with her maturity and openness.

Sharon’s in advertising, but hasn’t really decided what to do with her life. As it turned out, she is the daughter of J.N. Amrolia, head of HR in Ashok Leyland for decades. I remember having met him in his cabin years ago, and Sharon introduced him to me today after 15 years. Not that he would have remembered, but for me it was a pleasure saying hello to a thorough gentleman.

Sharon herself was gracious to take me around to her front porch where lay her very own Shadow, a 13-year-old Labrador. He (Shadow) had come ambling along to where the pups were and had rested for a while at a vantage point, keen to be part of the activity, but old age drove him back soon indoors.

It is a wonderful thing the Amrolias are doing – solid, silent contribution for animal care. After all, how many would open out their gates to let in visitors? We need more of them, don’t we?

More pictures: the entrance on Boat Club Road to the Amrolia residence; a visitor filling up a form after formally adopting a pup; a volunteer with a timid pup; Sharon with Shadow; and Priya (left) with the smallest pup on show, and Rupa with the most active one, both volunteers at Blue Cross, and both pups from the BC stable.

The Chennai Pet Adoption Drive begins to get up steam

2011-07-10T02:32:00.000-07:00

Two young women have suddenly brought about a refreshing change to pet adoption in Chennai. Of course, it’s mainly puppies as well as adult dogs, with kittens and cats taking up a small share. All these years, there really hasn’t been a concerted pet adoption drive as such, save perhaps for the annual adoption camp conducted in recent times by the Blue Cross at the CP Ramaswami Aiyar Foundation premises, where on the campus is Chinny Krishna’s (founder-director, Blue Cross) home. But these are usually one-off shows and the buzz ends with the show.

What Anuradha Manish and Jennifer Murali have now succeeded in doing is to get the buzz and momentum going till the next show and the next, which, on average, is once a month. That by itself is a remarkable thing because it’s not easy to get together volunteers, puppies and people wanting to give up animals for adoption. It needs quite a bit of organising.

Anuradha spent her early years in Assam (her father was in the air force) before coming to Madras; Jennifer grew up here. Together, they have hit the right track – the social networking track, which works wonders in today’s world. Both are on Facebook and are connected to hundreds. With online media being the source of most news stories today, it isn’t surprising that newspapers are featuring the Chennai Pet Adoption drive every time there’s an exercise.

This was something the Blue Cross has never done with some amount of effort. Being an animal lover I remember the times I’ve visited the Blue Cross Web site and the blog, but would be disappointed to see hardly any activity. Blue Cross therefore would do well to learn a thing or two from the enterprise shown by Anuradha and Jennifer.

The exercise does not end with giving away pups or kittens for adoption. There is follow-up required, to see whether the animals are comfortable, whether they are being looked after the way they should. Often, instances are reported of a family adopting a pup and then tying up the animal at home. Anuradha, Jennifer and team have laid down the ground rules, one of which is that a pet must be treated as a member of the family and must enjoy the same freedom the family members have – to move about, to lie down, to play and sulk and generally have a run of the place. This means making new owners understand and convincing them that animals need to be loved and cared for as much as human beings.

Another premise is that Indian dogs are as good, if not better, than any foreign breed. We really do not need the German Shepherd, the Labrador, the Golden Retriever or the Cocker Spaniel to brighten up our lives. Our own local pup can do all that and more. After all, many of the foreign breeds are not used to the Indian climate although they have been bred here for years. This does not mean that we shun the Lhasa Apso and the Dachshund; it’s just that we need to look at animal welfare in the right perspective.

One of the things I suggested to Anuradha and Jennifer was that they should consider organising such camps in different localities, and find animal lovers who may be able to provide space for such activity once in a quarter or so. In today’s world of distances and difficulty in commuting, people are more likely to come when something is organised in the neighbourhood.

Today’s adoption drive at the Boat Club Road premises (read more about it in a later blog) had a fairly good start. At the time of writing this blog, eight puppies had found homes and there were eleven others waiting. I’m sure, as much as the organisers are, that they will soon be adopted by loving families.

Pictures show early visitors fondling pups and creating a buzz; kittens awaiting their turn; "Will I find a loving home?" this pup seems to wonder; and Anuradha (left) and Jennifer with two handsome babies.

Yes, the parks have disappeared… and the Monorail is coming

2011-07-04T08:44:00.000-07:00

In the midst of all the confusion that Metro Rail has created in Madras that is Chennai, (more confusion will be created when the Monorail project takes off), we are losing more and more lung space and, very sadly, some of the parks along the planned route are fast disappearing, or have already disappeared.

When I had mentioned on Facebook about the Theosophical Society, thankfully, still remaining a sort of oasis in a city that is fast losing its tree cover, a friend quickly asked me to shut up, lest the powers that be plan something over or under the Adyar gardens of the Society and set about destroying a heritage site. He is right, but I’m sure even the powers that be cannot easily ride roughshod over property belonging to a well-known world institution that happens to have its headquarters in Chennai. But, of course, he has made his point.

Another friend is aghast at the fate that has befallen the once spacious and beautiful Shenoy Nagar Park, a fairly large lung space in the city. She perhaps forgot to mention a similar fate ‘bestowed’ by the powers that be on the park on First Avenue in Ashok Nagar. The park was built and inaugurated with much fanfare after a local citizens group had won a case that went right up to the Supreme Court (if I’m not mistaken). That space was encroached on and used for all kinds of shady purposes, with an eatery called Midnight Masala fronting one part on the roadside; an appropriate name indeed. When the group won the case, the encroachers were bundled out the very next day and soon the Mayor and others got down to brass-tacks and eventually decided in favour of a park, much to the relief of all the residents. The park turned out to be a crowd puller, with young and old converging there every day taking turns at the swing or simply doing the rounds. Now, thanks to Metro Rail, the park is closed and has become a godown of sorts – for the concerned Metro Rail contractor.

Am sure there are other parks and public spaces in Chennai that have been taken up by Metro Rail authorities. Does E. Sreedharan, India’s Metro Rail Man, who was instrumental in providing the capital the Metro and also headed the Konkan Railway project, even know what’s going on in cities like Chennai where Metro Rail work is progressing apace? Am sure he doesn’t. A person of discipline who is not given to discounting the voice of the masses would surely not have let public parks and temples and schools disappear. An old, historic temple in the Police Training College campus in Ashok Nagar was under threat until local voices reached a crescendo. Part of the Jawahar Vidyalaya School buildings has become an empty shell now.

If the Metro in Delhi skirts the Yamuna and does not pass through congested areas, the same is not the case in Bangalore and Chennai. In Calcutta, life was hell while work on the Metro progressed at snail’s pace for years. Today, the Metro is being expanded in outer areas of the city.

We all know the number of tress cut down mercilessly on Bangalore’s heritage walkway, MG Road. I still remember walking down the road early mornings in the early 1980s when the Garden City had a spring in the air and it used to drizzle almost daily throughout the year. That Bangalore has been lost for generations. There is official talk about sapling being planted on MG Road once Metro Rail work is over, but will we be alive to see the saplings grow into sturdy trees. Surely not the coming generation or two. It takes years for a sapling to blossom into a full-grown tree.

The one good (or fortunate) thing in Bangalore is that most of the old city space is owned by the defence establishment. The city grew up as a cantonment town, and the cantonment area is still one of the best parts of Bangalore. With defence you can’t fool around and there is no way you can encroach on its property. So, politicians and our wise city planners have no free reign in these areas. An example is the area occupied by the Defence Research & Development Organisation. I passed that way last week while heading to relatives’ homes in CV Raman Nagar and Kaggadasapura. What a wonderful sight the huge, centuries-old trees provided. I wished I could have rented a house in that area. The air itself was unadulterated, full of the scent of tree leaves and flowers. I felt envious of the people living there.

Unfortunately, Chennai does not have that status and except perhaps for Avadi where there is the Heavy Vehicles Factory, ensconced in a lovely township that is a throwback to the old, and a small pocket in Tambaram, there is little defence property. And now, with the Monorail set to become reality, I wonder what else is in store.

Pictures from Bangalore, taken during my recent visit: a view from a Godrej Properties high-rise in Hebbal which is fast losing its green cover; the bench where I often sit, surrounded by greenery and flowers, and watch the migratory birds in the ITC campus opposite; two shots taken within two kilometers, of the road leading through the DRDO campus on to CV Raman Nagar (this is proof of how well the Indian Defence takes care of its property); and did you say plants simply love Bangalore? yes, they do, they just glow and blossom like women deeply in love.

When some business partnerships spell success

2011-06-24T01:35:00.000-07:00

In recent weeks and months, while doing stories for a couple of trade magazines and meeting the heads of companies, I have been struck by the seriousness and sincerity most of them bring to the workplace. I have also met a few who’ve gone out of their way to be extremely helpful. Indeed, one senior executive from a company called Esko Graphics in Bangalore readily gave me several leads despite some of them probably being competition.

If I noticed the high standards of quality in organisations such as Autoprint and Fortec in Coimbatore, comparable almost with the remarkable W&R Etikettan facility I visited in the Netherlands, I was also quite surprised to see the kind of passion smaller entrepreneurs bring to their work. In a way, it’s like the turning of the clock – years ago, I had done the rounds of dealers of FMCG products such as Prestige and Kohinoor and Durex while editing a journal for the group I worked for.

A few weeks ago, I found myself in the heart of north Chennai, invited to a Ricoh do. Star Xeroxs (yes, that’s how the owner spells it) on NSC Bose Road had purchased a Ricoh machine in January, business had picked up and now the Ricoh heads had chosen the office to launch what they called a Pro-partners programme, which is basically offering the customer business development assistance and on-site service support, and helping the customer grow his business.

For the proprietor, A. Srinivasan, it was a special moment. He was enthusiastic and said he was ready to order another Ricoh machine. In today’s world of business, no matter what you do, it pays to tie up with majors in the field. It makes expansion possible, and if you work hard, you can become a successful businessman in a short time. Srinivasan is an example. The purchase of the sophisticated Ricoh Pro C720 seems to have paid rich dividends. And for somebody like him, just on the fringes of tasting big-time success, it was no mean achievement to have had the Ricoh heads visiting and launching a new India initiative from his premises.

However, when Tetsuya Takano, managing director and CEO, Ricoh India Ltd, and Ben B.W. Chong, senior manager, Product & Solution Marketing, Ricoh, Singapore, arrived with Avijit Mukherjee, business head, Production Printing Business Group, Ricoh India, it was business as usual at Star Xeroxs, with customers crowding around most of the space. The visitors and yours truly were led to a small room where the Ricoh machine was and here the formal ceremonies began.

Joining in later was Srinivasan’s daughter who I noticed was an active member of the business. Perhaps she plans to join the business some time, if she has not already. With the Ricoh partnership going well, the future looks bright for the Srinivasan family. This is essentially what success stories are all about, I guess. But of course you need the stroke of luck and the enterprise as well.

Pictures show Takano congratulating Srinivasan, and a smiling Chong; the Ricoh bosses cutting the chocolate cake along with Srinivasan and daughter; and Takano distributing goodies to an employee.

PR is much more than fixing meetings, isn't it?

2011-06-17T11:07:00.000-07:00

It’s not quite easy to be in PR, is it? I should know a thing or two, having been in PR for a decade and more. However, being a journalist, I was able to find the balance, not going overboard with PR, neither with reporters and others. I believed in being open and straightforward (I always do); to me, credibility mattered more than anything else. If a reporter or editor were to arrive for a press meet or a one-to-one, I would be there to ensure that things went without a hiccup. Some of these things are not taught in schools or by bosses, you learn them yourself or you just have it in you. I was fortunate to have been one of the luckier ones.

Recently, I received an email from a PR agency calling me for a one-on-one meeting with the general manager of a division of Xerox. The agency had fixed the time and place. The following day, I received another email intimating me about a change in time. So, from 4pm it was 1pm. The agency did not consider it appropriate to ask me whether the time was convenient for me – it was not a press meet in which case there is no such option.

When I arrived at the venue – the Chennai Trade Centre – and found myself at the Xerox stall, nobody seemed to know there was a press ‘interaction’ scheduled, there was no one from the PR agency, no Xerox PR / corporate communications person. For a few minutes I was lost wondering what to do as the GM I had to meet was not around. Fortunately, another senior executive of Xerox who was in production marketing made me feel at ease even as he was sweating profusely (when you are in a suit and the air-conditioner is not working properly that’s what happens in Chennai), made calls to the GM and took time off to chat and give me his perspective. He turned out to be quite the perfect PR person you would find, although I’m sure he would have least expected to confront a journalist at the stall.

After I had met the GM and everything ended well, there was no call from the PR agency to check and find out whether things had gone all right. Either they had assumed everything was fine, or they didn’t really care. Back home, I sent a bit of a stinker to the agency and soon received calls from its Delhi office trying to placate me. The reason trotted out: the person in question was a new kid on the block. The following day a bouquet of flowers arrived home with a note apologising for the experience I had to undergo. It was supposed to be a friendly gesture, according to one of the agency’s partners. I took it all in good spirit, content that I had been able to drive the point home.

Only a week or so earlier, I experienced something similar when I was invited to a Ricoh do in Parrys, close to Chennai’s beginnings – Fort St George. Having arrived a few minutes earlier to the appointed time of 3.45pm, I thought I’d be nice and early for the meeting. Surprisingly, not a person at the premises seemed to know of the press do and, with hardly elbow space to move around, I came outside and soaked in the sunshine. When I called what I thought was the PR person’s number, it turned out to be the shop owner’s and he said he would be there in ten minutes. Meanwhile, the Ricoh entourage arrived and swept past me inside. Not able to take it anymore, I lost my cool. Then there were apologies and soft drinks were ordered.

In both cases, well-known companies were involved. The PR agencies were different. But the effect was more or less the same – invitations were sent, senior editors were expected, but nobody at the venue seemed to know, and there was no proper follow-up. So, where’s PR heading today? I shudder to think what would have happened had I been as casual during my PR days with a leading corporate group. A dressing-down from the chairman or director would have been certain.

It’s rather ironical that with all the sophisticated communication tools we have today, communication has become even more complex. Emails, SMSes, mobile phone calls, soft copies… yet, where is the human touch? It’s a shame. What’s worse is that it’s unlikely that agencies and managers will learn quickly from mistakes made. If they do, it’ll be a pleasant surprise.

Lunch with the stars in Pallavaram, courtesy Heidelberg

2011-06-11T07:26:00.000-07:00

Last week after a hurried trip to Palakkad in Kerala, it was back to work. Mid-week, I drove on to Pallavaram to meet up with the head of the Print Media Academy India, which takes after the reputable PMA in Heidelberg.

Professor Rajendra Kumar Anayath has turned out to become a good friend of mine, and he has been doing some good work setting up the academy in Chennai, backed by Heidelberg support. The PMA in Heidelberg is a worldwide knowledge forum devoted to offering experts and managers in the print media industry a wide range of training opportunities, from colour management and production processes to marketing for printing companies and motivating employees and winning new customers. The widely traveled Prof Anayath is a senior consultant at Heidelberg but he operates in a world of freedom. If knowledge is power, he has demonstrated it in ample measure. For all that, he is unassuming and that again is his strength.

The day began on a rather mad note with me taking a U-turn instead of a simple right, and then taking a U under a flyover to hit straight into oncoming traffic, facing the wrath of MTC bus and all sorts of drivers, and finally managing another U-turn and yet another to head where I had to. I was thankful I didn’t get booked for a stupid traffic offence, with a cop standing right there even as I was doing all the turns. What was he doing and how did he miss a morning scalp, I have no idea.

Well, after a couple of Heidelberg coffees and a long recording session with the professor, he offered to take me out for lunch next door. It was Karaikudi but there was a surprise in store as I ambled up the old wooden staircase. Larger-than-life pictures of Dev Anand, Raj Kapoor, Meena Kumari and others welcomed me indoors. There was a captivating one of Madhubala and I kept turning around to look at her again and again. There must have been a Dilip Kumar somewhere, but if he was, he wasn’t close to the lady he once loved.

Food was wholesome, with jeera water as the appetizer. But with Dev Anand right behind me and Madhubala casting furtive glances from two tables away, it was difficult to concentrate on the job at hand. Perhaps some old Hindi film melodies would have complemented the ambience.

In order of appearance: Dev, Meena, Raj and Madhubala… and jeera water, hot condiments and papad to kick-start the luncheon.

In God's Own Country

2011-06-03T10:19:00.000-07:00

I love taking a break and leaving the city. Doesn’t happen too often, or as much as I would have liked, but whenever there is an opportunity I try and get away. However, I wouldn’t say an opportunity presented itself last week when I visited God’s Own Country. An elderly relative had passed away (he was well past his nineties) a few days earlier and then there was a wedding reception to attend.

A visit to Palakkad is never without its charms. With the south-west monsoon edging close, and after the first spells of the season’s rain, leaves glistened in green and flowers of different shapes and sizes and colours were abloom.

The first picture says it’s Kerala; the architecture is a give-away. Adding a bit of gravitas is my uncle with his Telly Savalas look. A view of the old and the new – tiled, conical roofs and new-age cars; a jack-fruit tree in my aunt’s garden; and a well-tended garden outside another uncle’s home.

A young Tam-Brahm widow shows others the way

2011-05-30T10:28:00.000-07:00

We have shifted temporarily to a new abode, waiting for our permanent home to get ready. It will take eighteen months or so, enough time to be able to make new friends. The new residence belongs to a friend of ours, and she’s been so warm and friendly that it’s almost as if we haven’t moved residence at all. One of the challenges, though, has been making friends with our neighbours. While a few smile and say hello, others simply walk away despite you being eager to make conversation. Wdell, I guess it takes time to get used to new people and new surroundings.

As with many buildings in the area, this one, too, was once an independent house. The owners decided to hand over the property to a private builder to get it demolished, and retained four of the eight flats. All this happened about ten years ago. We were just getting along making friends with some of them when we learned that one of the sons of the owner was down with cancer and was in his last days. Death comes often in different and unexpected ways, and that was how it arrived at their doorstep a few months ago.

One evening after dinner, Ravindran (he was only 55) told his wife he was feeling uneasy and all of a sudden collapsed. To cut the long story short, tests revealed he was suffering from a rare kind of cancer of the brain for which there was no cure. Two months ago, he had a bout of fits and after that there was no recovery; he lay comatose in bed, looked after and cared for by his wife.

As I was leaving for Kerala Saturday, the news came of his passing away. He had struggled for three months. Before that he had led a very active life, being in the medical business. A couple of people who had come to pay their last respects told me that he would invite every one he met to his home for a cup of tea or coffee, while extending his business card, and that most of those who had gathered would at one time or another have had a meal at his home. It was obvious he was respected and loved; the number of people who arrived as soon as the news broke out caught all of us by surprise.

Today, after my return from God’s Own Country, my wife and I went to meet his family. What surprised us again was the courage his wife showed. She said he had a peaceful end and it was good he didn’t have to suffer further. She had had her bath, was dressed as usual, and spoke about her husband as only she could. Her old mother listened quietly, seated in a chair nearby. Soon, Ravindran’s daughter arrived and she was all for her mother pursuing her interests and spending her time the way she wanted to, even if it meant learning to drive a two-wheeler or a car. How wonderful, I thought. If only we had more of such progressive-looking families. It was all the more surprising because they were Tamil Brahmins, well known for being some of the most orthodox, apart from being some of the brightest and strict vegetarians, of course.

The grandchildren apparently doted on Ravindran and the younger one, hardly four, kept inquiring at regular intervals where her thatha was. The answer they gave her: he had gone to meet and spend some time with Shirdi Sai Baba, whose picture adorned one of the walls at their home. I left their home buoyed with some strange energy, an inexplicable dose of optimism. Over the years, I’ve been used to older women (including my mother many years ago) deliberately withdrawing into a shell after the demise of the husband, most of them preferring to wear white or off-white saris. Of course, there have been more independent women, their numbers were small, but in Ravindran’s wife I saw a certain confidence, a certain maturity that transcended what most normal human beings are capable of. From up there somewhere, Ravindran must be looking at his wife with pride, happy that she has it in her to make life worth living after all. Deep inside her heart, he is always there, as fresh as memories can be, and she knows that in those memories and in her daughter and son and grandchildren she will find him every day and, together, they will keep her rooted ad help her reach out to a new world.

Goodbye and good riddance! People in Tamil Nadu want a clean government

2011-05-14T09:33:00.000-07:00

Years ago, when M.G. Ramachandran, after the death of Annadurai, alleged that corruption had entered the party, the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK), and wanted financial details to be made public, he was expelled. He then went on form the Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam, which later became the All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (AIADMK). Once he became chief minister of Tamil Nadu in 1977, there was no dislodging him – for ten years he ruled, till his death in 1987. He faced no anti-incumbency factor, a pet phrase of politicians today to explain defeat. So, MGR must have done something right to be voted to power again and again – the nutritious mid-day meal scheme was his brainchild, and he also focused on giving children education. He was said to be a good man who had the welfare of his subjects at heart. Of course, in those days, the word ‘scam’ did not exist. Bofors had not then arrived.

In more recent years, voters in Tamil Nadu have booted out the two main political parties once every five years. This time, there is a lot more than the anti-incumbency factor that played a part. If MGR had alleged corruption in the DMK then, today, thanks to the 2G Spectrum scam, the Nira Radia tapes, and the media, especially the top-draw television channels, hell-bent on unearthing corrupt practices and bringing it to the public eye during prime time night after night, the public perceived the DMK rule and the rulers to be knee-deep in corruption. The money in question: hundreds and thousands of crores. Perhaps a lot of it was grapevine, gossip, hyperbole, call it what you want, but the public perception was that there was one family, the ruling family, that was amassing wealth beyond comprehension. Since the matter lies in the courts, it is improper to pass judgment, but suffice to say that public perception plays a major role in electing and removing governments.

Sadly, and this is not just about Tamil Nadu but about almost in every state in India, corruption reigns supreme. And common folks like us ask all the time: how do we weed out corruption. A question a bank officer asked me yesterday when I had gone to the bank to update my passbook. Old buildings in the area where I stay are getting demolished, and new multi-storey apartments will soon come in their place. But families are having to bribe officers and staff in various government departments, from electricity, to water and sewerage, to telephones, to get documents transferred. Builders openly say in private that they have to pay money to get papers and files moving in the Chennai Metropolitan Development Authority, for instance. Not small amounts – sizeable figures that are available on the tariff, And without doing so, clearances will just not come. I’ve also heard people say that under this government nothing works even if you pay bribes, but under the other government, you can rest assured that your work will get done. Sometimes, I wonder how all people know s much about what really happens.

Well, if M. Karunanidhi had a dream of his party getting re-elected again and to pass on the mantle to his sons, he’s received a rude jolt. At 86, there’s little chance of him gracing the corridors of power again. And judging by the blow the party has received, it is anybody’s guess as to whether the knives will indeed come out once the dust settles and it is serious introspection time. Will the party be able to hold together after all – we will have to wait and see in the days ahead. It’ll be an interesting wait.

Equally interesting will be Jayalalithaa’s initial performance. Pictures of the nocturnal police raid on Karunanidhi’s family, the screams and moans, are still vivid. But time (the time out of power) must surely have taught her a lesson. She is unlikely to be as adventurous this time; but if early indications are anything to go by, she will be firm and will do all she can to expose the misdemeanors of the previous regime. Already, word has gone out that the state is bankrupt. As always, there will be a honeymoon period, but it will not last long. She will, more importantly, have to focus on larger public issues – clean drinking water, good roads, employment, education, electricity, maternal and child health – issues that still plague even developed states such as Tamil Nadu decades after Independence.

The voting back to power of the AIADMK with such a massive majority is the people’s way of saying they want less corruption (you can’t think of a corruption-less state now, can you?) and less masquerading of family power. It’s now up to Jayalalithaa and her new team to deliver. I heard somebody summarize the DMK defeat as “caught Kani, bowled Raja”. A smart cricketing metaphor, if any were needed. But the message is that the people of the state now want a clean and efficient government. And if there’s no vindictive action, they’ll be happy they engineered the change. With age on her side, this is Jayalalithaa’s best chance to prove her critics wrong and aim for an innings as long as her mentor’s, a mentor who almost made her his political heir. After all, voters in Tamil Nadu are so generous - you just have to wait five years. Look at West Bengal - 34 years, and you might have almost lived your life!

Hoardings and pictures of Jayalalithaa dot the Chennai landscape; here are a few near Annadurai’s statue, on Mount Road. AIADMK flags greet motorists on the Gemini Bridge.

An association with the awe-inspiring master

2011-05-06T08:23:00.000-07:00

To add a two bits more about Mr S. Muthiah, he inspires people around him, not merely because of the amount of work he performs and its breathtaking range, but also because of the high standards he brings to any work he takes up. If it’s deadline time and the copy is not perfect, the printer will have to wait. It’s as simple as that. It’s also his high moral standards. Years ago, he had told me he would never even recommended his daughter for a job.

It was while writing for Madras Musings and contributing to some of his books that I began looking at heritage in different light. I’m sure V. Sriram, who is fast making a mark as a writer and raconteur, will say the same thing. When Vincent D’Souza, editor, Mylapore Times, Adyar Times and Arcot Road Times, got the Mylapore Festival going and made a success of it, and then went on to launch Madras Day, it was Muthiah who soon took the initiative to call for meetings of the core team and arrange several events on behalf of Chennai Heritage, getting a comprehensive programme sheet produced, and actually extending Madras Day to Madras Week and Madras Fortnight. All this when he could have easily sat back and advised all of us. He chose to be hands-on – after all, it was a subject very close to his heart.

Muthiah’s association with Sri Lanka goes back to a father who came to study at Ananda College in 1916 and stayed on. V. Vr. N. M. Subbiah Chettiar, better known in Ceylon as M. Subbiah, was a stockbroker but he was better known for his involvement in Ceylon politics, being a nominated member of the Colombo Municipal Council for several years, deputy mayor twice, acting mayor several times and, most significantly, being the founder-president of the Ceylon Indian Congress formed in 1939 by 16 Indian associations in Ceylon. Later that year, after Jawaharlal Nehru’s visit, the Ceylon Indian Congress and the Ceylon Indian Association merged to become the second Ceylon Indian Congress. Subbiah stood for election to the Nuwara Eliya seat in 1947 and lost a close verdict. He left Ceylon for personal reasons in 1960 and settled in his village in India.

Muthiah studied in Ladies’ College, St Thomas Prep, where F.T. Keble was to prove the greatest influence on his life (getting him interested in reading, writing and editing journals). He was one of the first batch of students from this part of the world to go to the United States for higher studies immediately after World War II. There he was active in campus journalism and worked with local newspapers. Returning to Ceylon in 1951, circumstances forced Muthiah to rethink a career in the foreign service and he joined The Times of Ceylon and became wedded to journalism and writing ever since. He was foreign news editor, features editor and in charge of the Sunday Times and The Times of Ceylon Annual, a most sought-after publication. He also wrote about sport in the Island; his By the Corner Flag he campaigned for taking cricket to rural areas and getting the police and services interested in rugby.

1968 was a turning point – he arrived in India after a citizenship hiccup. In Madras, he founded TT Maps & Atlases for the TTK Group, and pioneered the publication of maps, atlases and tourist guidebooks. For years after retirement in the early 1990s, he continued as president emeritus of the company.

The range of his activities is amazing – he has taught journalism and print production at the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan from 1972 till well into the mid-1990s, and at Anna Univeristy and the University of Madras. Many senior journalists in Chennai today were taught by him at some time or the other (Shreekumar Varma whispered to me last week at the book launch that he was a student).

Muthiah helped found India’s first degree course in printing technology at Anna University in 1980. He has been an office bearer of the Madras Printers’ and Lithographers’ Association, the All Indian Federation of Master Printers, the Booksellers and Publishers Association of South India, the Indian National Cartographic Association, and the Public Relations Society of India, Tamil Nadu Chapter. The PRSI, whose journal I edit, has enormous respect for him even today. He was a co-convener of the Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage, TN Chapter. In March 2002, Muthiah was awarded the MBE by the Queen of England for his work on heritage and environment conservation in Chennai.

A lot of what I’ve said in the last paragraph might be for the records, but undoubtedly S. Muthiah stands out as a colossus, not in one, but in several fields. In some ways he is like R.K. Lakshman’s common man, looking at the world pass by and overhearing everything that’s being said, and in many ways he’s the person people look up to and stand up when he enters a room or approaches. He doesn’t wear a suit (except when he’s abroad at a formal function, like at an Anglo-Indians do recently in Australia) or a tie or a belt, or even shoes (except when there’s a formal function or when the rules of a club make him do so), but he earns respect wherever he goes. He never ever tom-toms, and that is the hallmark of a great person.

I’m so glad I bumped into him quite unwittingly as a journalism student, and then went on to keep an association alive and running for two decades. Indeed, it’s been a matter of pride and privilege.

S. Muthiah: Hard taskmaster and mentor

2011-05-02T11:25:00.000-07:00

So, why is S. Muthiah so highly regarded? At the formal release on Saturday of A Madras Miscellany: A Decade of People, Places & Potpourri, Mukund Padmanabhan, senior associate editor, The Hindu, spoke about Muthiah’s distrust of the computer and his love affair with the Olivetti typewriter, his commitment to submitting copy before the deadline every week, his scribbles on hard copy that sub-editors at the desk had to contend with, the progress from typewritten copy to floppy discs that wouldn’t open, and now on to emails. I hope the message was not lost on the crowd that must have included a sizeable number of young journalists.

The first thing that strikes anybody when meeting Muthiah is his simplicity. He, of course, doesn’t suffer fools gladly, but he respects people and their time. Now effectively retired and working from home, he usually meets visitors only by appointment. And if you are late beyond his grace period, be ready to be welcomed with some sort of sarcasm.

For all that, Muthiah values the contributions of people, no matter who it is. Even if it is a peon or clerk, he refers to their names, remembers their contribution, much like he remembered the contribution a certain Theerthappan made to his columns. Theerthappan used to be a frequent visitor to my house and many a time after listening to his non-stop banter I would find some excuse to get away. One day, I gave him Muthiah’s phone number and he was mighty thrilled. It was only much later when I noticed Theerthappan’s name cropping up in the Madras Miscellany column that I knew his worth. Muthiah, despite all the work he was buried in, had found time for the wiry old man from Valsarawakkam, who turned out to be a rich source of information. Theerthappan was apparently present at the Saturday programme, but by when Muthiah called out his name he had disappeared. I felt a trifle sad for Theerthappan; it would have been so nice if he had been present to hear his name being singled out.

I’ve had the privilege of working closely with Muthiah for twenty years. As director-communications and president emeritus, TT Maps & Atlases, he was my boss at the TTK Group. Together, we brought out the in-house magazine, the award-winning TTK Spectrum. I might have been a gold medalist in journalism, a topper in school and college, and fairly confident of my English language skills, but Muthiah quickly brought me down to terra firma. I still remember the day I received from his driver the first lot of copies I had written, duly edited by him, his favourite Wality fountain pen ink scribbles forming patterns between paragraphs, dotting margins and creating a mosaic at the bottom of almost every page. On one page, there was a splash of ink and two words at the top that said, WHAT NONSENSE!

I was petrified, despite having by then gained some experience as a direct recruit officer in the insurance industry and having dealt with all kinds of people, from pesky customers, to errant staff to union leaders and sickening bosses. For a long while I sat back, wondering what to do. Had I made a mistake quitting the insurance industry? When Saturday arrived, the day he usually walked into my room at the TTK head office on Cathedral Road, he ordered his favourite cup of coffee and took three hours to explain to me where I had gone wrong. No adjectives for people, he said; for products, yes. Nobody needs to be told how generous or handsome Mr Raghunathan is, he added. Do not use unnecessary words, the lead in a news story should say something new and you should make it interesting; do not use label headlines… he went on and on… Despite attending all his journalism classes on reporting, here I was gaining firsthand experience on-the-job. And those weekly meetings went on for a decade until I quit TTK’s.

I must have made some improvement because during 2002-03, whenever he travelled abroad or had a heart bypass operation, he would rely on me to put together the issues of Madras Musings. I was a regular writer for the fortnightly then. It was yet another valuable experience, deciding the stories to be published, substituting for him in the Man from Madras Musings column, no mean job, and, most importantly, to ensure there were no major errors.

I have continued my association with him, and continued to learn, especially while working on the corporate biography of L&T-ECC, on the biographies of MCtM Chidambaram Chettiar and Alagappa Chettiar, and on a segment of the Madras Gazetteer.

Never during all these years did I ever see him try to boss around or lose his cool; he would be sarcastic or at times even make you feel small, but he never let anything sour a relationship. More than anything, he was happy to teach you, to let you learn. Indeed, he encouraged it and if you were willing to work hard, ferret out information, check for facts and learn from mistakes, he respected you. And he was one who showed by example. If he could send his Metro Plus column ahead of the deadline unfailingly every week for a decade and more, it tells you a lot about the person he is.

To be continued...

The incredible Mr S. Muthiah: Journalist-writer-historian-storyteller who never ceases to amaze

2011-05-01T07:47:00.000-07:00

It’s often said that South India doesn’t really count (except during election time, of course) when India’s national picture is painted, no matter whether it is politics, business, sport, cinema or even fashion and lifestyle. For example, if you were to look at business, the Murugappa Group would perhaps get only a fraction of column centimetre space in The Times of India, Mumbai, as against the Tatas, the Birlas and the Singhanias.

K Balachander is now a Dada Saheb Phalke awardee but top newspapers and television channels would still like to go after a Subhas Ghai or a Yash Chopra. For all that, Sivaji Ganesan received national stature rather late; Uttam Kumar in Bengali cinema fared much better. But squared off against a Dilip Kumar or a Raj Kapoor, both Sivaji and Uttam, brilliant actors both, would fade in national newspaper columns and television.

In the field of journalism, he is one of the granddads and would easily rank among some of the country’s top writers, editors and authors. Sadly, S. Muthiah’s name is not known much beyond Chennai. A journalist for 60 years, a columnist for 50 years and still going strong, he is as top-draw as anybody in the field can get. But if you were to ask someone in Delhi (why Delhi, even in Bangalore or Hyderabad) whether he had heard of Muthiah, chances are he would say no.

Muthiah is not a Khushwant Singh, a Shobaa De, a Jug Suraiya or a Bachi Karkaria, all of whose names ring a certain resonance in most parts of India. Why is that so? Is it because most of his books have been about Madras that is Chennai, about the city’s heritage, about organisations and institutions in the south? Why is that Ramachandra Guha, for instance, is a national figure when Muthiah is not? I have no answer and I’d love to hear from Muthiah himself about what he thinks about this lack of national recognition as it were.

For the man is worth much more than his weight in gold. The frequency with which he is able to produce books, each one thoroughly researched and edited, is something that will never cease to amaze those who read his columns and writings and even those who know him closely. At the release last night of his 1210-page compendium, A Madras Miscellany: A Decade of People, Places & Potpourri, a collection really of the best of his columns that have appeared in The Hindu Metro Plus the past decade since the supplement was launched in end-1999, N. Ram, editor-in-chief, The Hindu, referred to Muthiah as an unconventional, one-of-a-kind historian… who has brought to his subject (Chennai) a gifted journalist’s curiosity, humour, liveliness, eye for small things and accessibility. Ram referred to legendary columnists Walter Lippmann and Frank Moraes and went on to add that if other newspapers had a Khushwant Singh or a Jug Suraiya, The Hindu had S. Muthiah. That statement brought a round of applause, but frankly, Muthah’s name, for all its worth, does not come in the same breath as do the names of some of the others. Which is as sad as it is a mystery, much like the Murugappa Group example.

There were a few speeches, of course, before the cocktails that is. An outstanding one by Gopalkrishna Gandhi, former West Bengal Governor, reading mostly from a prepared text, which flowed almost like poetry. But knowing his calibre and the quality he brings to research, it was not surprising. Do we really deserve a Muthiah, he asked the audience, indirectly referring to the lack of any other person of such stature in the city who has as much a passion for the city’s heritage and who has fought as many a battle (losing in most cases) for heritage conservation. That question summed up everything really.

It is indeed a matter of worry that after Muthiah (he is 81 and one hopes he lives as long as his father did) there might not be anybody of his stature the city can look up to, to take up cudgels on behalf of heritage. It’s a frightening prospect. It’ll also be a extremely saddening prospect for all those he had taught – journalism, printing, PR and advertising students… More of it in my next blog.

Pictures here were taken at the launch at the Connemara Hotel and are courtesy The Hindu...

It pays to be cautious when you are in foreign territory

2011-04-26T05:30:00.000-07:00

In Europe, your skin colour easily gives you away and you can be easy prey if you are not a trifle careful. People quickly recognise you as Indian, and if you aren’t one, then possibly a Bangladeshi or a Sri Lankan. Most Pakistanis have a much fairer complexion anyway and, therefore, you are unlikely to be identified as such.

For all the discipline, cleanliness and the good things of life, climate included, many parts in Europe aren’t really as safe as you might think. While I was on the tube from Cologne to Brussels Nord, there was an announcement that came several times before we alighted, cautioning passengers about pickpockets at the station.

Thankfully, my co-passenger was the friendly sort. She was from Brussels Nord and walked me all the way up to the hotel. And as we trudged up the steep incline, there were many eyes on me, most of them with a Turkish-Arab background, and quite a few Blacks as well who it was clear were up to no good. She was kind enough to advise me not to go out late evenings as it was not a very safe place for visitors. I heeded her advice and remained indoors, already quite tired by all the travel.

In Dusseldorf, I was shadowed by a couple of men, one I’m certain of Arab descent, and the other a German who puffed non-stop. I had a little time on my hands after a visit to the printing fair and chose to walk around near the hotel, looking for souvenirs inside a few shops. I really had no clue I was being followed. It was only when one of them hastened up to me before I entered a store and asked me to come outside to talk that I quickly understood what was happening.

Fortunately again, the owner of the store happened to be Indian and I made sweet conversation with him hoping the guy would back out. But he was loathe to let go and trooped inside the store, his eyes on me constantly. Since the hotel was close by I managed to get by, but only just. He had almost caught up to the entrance and finally left only after the hotel manager came to my side. That was when I spotted the German puffing away wildly. He had driven up to the kerb to pick up his friend. And I wondered what it was they wanted from me.

Well, the store I trooped into was run by Batra from Delhi. There was a discount sale going on and that had caught my eye. It was while talking to him that I realised the goods were all from Delhi and, would you believe it, China! He had come to Germany when he was 19, probably in the late-1970s. His married daughter was helping him with the business. And they seemed to be quite prosperous. He said he was sending money to his folks back in Delhi and looking after others who constantly harried him for monetary help.

Pictures show the Turkish neighbourhood where I stayed overnight on my return Cologne; Batra posing in front of his store in Dusseldorf; a group of Indian girls talking excitedly to their families as they stand in awe before the Cologne Cathedral; and another group of young engineers from BGR Boilers, Chennai, led by S Venkataraman, the GM. They’ve been in Germany the past three months on work and it was their day out.

Can our city planners take a leaf out of the Dusseldorf book?

2011-04-16T07:55:00.000-07:00

In Chennai, we have trains, buses, taxis, autorickshaws, the MRTS and now in a few years the Metro. But except perhaps at the Central or Egmore railway stations, how easy is it to connect to the different places in the city? Not very.

If you are to travel on the MRTS (mass rapid transport system), and if you are a lone woman you need the courage because the stations are ill-lit, lonely and infested with anti-social elements, you are not likely to find any mode of transport outside the station to ferry you to the place you wish to go. A classic example is the Indira Nagar MRTS station. If you are to emerge from here, you will be greeted by vehicles whizzing by on the toll road outside, with little chance of an auto stopping by. The same can be said of the Mylapore and Thiruvanmiyur stations, perhaps the whole lot. Which clearly shows lack of proper planning. Even if there are autos outside the Mambalam or Kodambakkam railway stations, the drivers are waiting to fleece you, and you have to walk quite a distance to reach a bus stop. I wonder whether the Metro Rail will provide better connectivity, but knowing how our planners work it may not be very different from what we have presently.

It’s so very different in some of the places I have visited abroad. In Dusseldorf, for example, you can straightaway head for the subway from inside the main station if you wish to catch a train. Once outside, there are taxis lined up and a few metres away, tram and bus stops. It’s all public transport. Taxis run on meters and if the distance is too short the drivers advise you to walk, luggage and all. Imagine what our guys here would do!

I did not see any private public transport as such, certainly no autorickshaw type of vehicle. The point is that public transport is so well maintained and reliable that it will put even our best private transport (Volvo buses within and outside Chennai, if you will) to shame. For one, there is no conductor; it is assumed people are honest and will pay, and they do. There are ticket checkers on trains and they are friendly and cheerful, greeting you before punching the ticket and wishing you a pleasant journey.

I noticed a bus driver, an attractive blonde, greeting every passenger who got in and they in turn wished her as well. Our conductors and drivers don’t even know how to smile; the moment they are on the bus they think they are headmasters descended from heaven.

So, effectively, with such wonderful public transport, fixed fares and friendly staff, there is no bargaining, no waste of time and energy, no bad words exchanged. Everything is well and everyone exudes a positive energy. There is no crowding, forget overcrowding. That of course has to do with the population. A nation of 1.2 billion, and counting every second, just cannot hope for that kind of thing. But at least our city administrators can learn from such examples and try to replicate them here, such as providing better connectivity, penalising auto drivers who fleece passengers and putting an end to such practice, and ensuring that travelling by public transport is a pleasure, which will result in even the better-off or elite to use such services instead of taking out the car every time. Will it ever happen in our lifetime?

Pictures show taxis (all Mercedes Benz and BMWs) lined outside the Dusseldorf main station; the inside of a bus that had the driver greeting passengers as they entered from the front; luxury trams just a few yards away from the station entrance; a poodle on a bus (pets are allowed on trains and buses); and the inside of a local train on which I travelled.

A different world out there in Brussels

2011-04-13T10:24:00.000-07:00

Picture postcard scenes from Brussels, these. Many use cycles to commute, and parking everywhere is near perfect. No haphazard parking anywhere. It’s almost as if it’s a sin, just like it’s almost a crime if you honk. The only time I heard a driver horn was when a police vehicle swept by. There are hardly any motorcycles; I must have seen three or four during the week I spent there – the odd Yamaha or Triumph.

One of the things that never cease to amaze me is the level of discipline people in the developed world have. Drivers stop when the traffic signal turns red even if it is 2am or 3am when there’s not a soul in sight. Pedestrians wait ever so patiently to cross streets until the signal turns green. Will we ever even strive to reach some semblance of such discipline? If only we could.

Super roads everywhere. I didn’t find a single spot where some sort of digging was about. The only thing that surprised me was the number of cigarette butts lying on pavements, even right outside petrol bunks. On the way to a sales outlet in a bunk there were scores of cigarette butts lying. And for all the campaigns against smoking and cigarette packets carrying warnings, people in these parts smoke like chimneys.

In streets, on footpaths, outside railway stations and bus stops, young and old, men and women puff away to glory come. I didn’t notice too much of chattering on mobile phones though, not like many of use here who are keen do to tell the world what we are up to or who love pressing the keys of the instrument for effect. They must have got over all that years ago, if ever they did indeed indulge in that kind of flaunting.

Pictures show cycles parked neatly on a pavement; the way to the gas station that was littered with cigarette butts: a quiet side street where too I noticed many butts lying; the super roads; and families cycling away.

Rendezvous with a digital press major in Brussels

2011-04-11T11:39:00.000-07:00

It was quite a pleasant surprise when I received a call about three weeks ago from the editor and publisher of Indian Printer & Publisher and Packaging South Asia, asking me to attend a special press event being organised by Xeikon International, the Netherlands-based major in the labeling business. Later on, as it turned out, I was also asked to attend the digi:media trade show in Dusseldorf, a first by the organisers of the famous drupa festival. So followed a rush for the visa and other arrangements and, even before I knew it, I was off to Brussels where the event was arranged.

‘Go beyond your limits’ is the Xeikon credo and, well, they did really pull out all stops to ensure that the press event was a success. Xeikon is one of the founders of the digital label press technology and the event was to provide select editors from around the world an insight into developments and market growth expectations as well as update on the company’s product portfolio.

After a 10-hour flight I landed in Brussels where the pick-up was arranged. Off I was driven to the Crowne Plaza in Antwerp. Freshening over, I was whisked away with a couple of other senior editors to the Xeikon headquarters in Lier. After formal introductions, there was lunch, complete with the choicest of wines. It was all perfect PR and it worked well. None of us even sighed once until the presentations got over late in the evening. Senior editors from Chicago, London, Paris and New York were present. I was the only Indian.

The organisers seemed to believe in the saying, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. There was cocktails and dinner at a boutique restaurant in downtown Antwerp, but even that was preceded by a brief presentation.

A packed first day indeed. Indian companies can take a leaf out of the Xeikon book to understand how press conferences and get-togethers should be arranged without PR being overbearing. In Brussles, they did it very effectively and in great style.

Pictures show the sumptuous meal in store for lunch; the eye-catching Xeikon hoarding at one end of the hall; yours truly with the Xeikon director and the PR chief; the Xeikon business development manager talking hardcore business; and a view of the spectacular amphitheatre in the company’s HQ.

Views of a former civil servant

2011-04-03T08:38:00.000-07:00

Shantha Sheela Nair, who served as a civil servant for 37 years, is a delightful person to be with; she always has something interesting to say and is usually full of ideas. She’s just retired but continues to speak at public forums, driving some of her ideas into people’s minds.

One of Sheela’s pet subjects is water and sanitation and during her tenure as Corporation Commissioner, Chennai, and chairperson of Metrowater, she did her best to get the rainwater harvesting programme going, with help from committed individuals such as Sekhar Ragahan who runs the Rain Centre.

It was during a year of drought and elections to the State Assembly that the RWH programme was driven through – and despite opposition and the debate appearing in the media, no judge, according to Shella, wanted to be seen as coming in the way of affecting water supply. RWH paid rich dividends for Chennai citizens, although in several places its implementation was not proper.

Speaking recently to an audience comprising UNCEF officers and local journalists, Sheela stressed the need to use less water in toilets. If it could be done in aeroplanes and spacecraft why could vacuum toilets not be possible on the ground, she wondered. The beginning, she said, had to be made with children and toilet-training before considering the larger aspect of decentralising water management.

As far as desalination was concerned, Sheela said there were no answers yet to where the effluents would go and what would happen to the brine. “A lot of our problems emanate from the fact that we have gone too deep into the ground (in search of water),” she added. She referred to the Roman aqueducts and the storing of water underground using the power of gravity.

Narrating her experiences of heading the disaster relief team in Tamil Nadu post-tsunami, Sheela said that tackling issues such as women’s menstrual hygiene and lack of sanitary pads was Herculean. To add to the chaos, there were paedophiles taking advantage of the presence of orphans; yet the administration did all it could to prevent any wrongdoing.

Sheela was for corporate bodies to show more sensitivity while handling issues pertaining to the locals and the environment. She also wanted young journalists to question technology and use indigenous technology as far as possible.

Namma Arcot Road: the team that made it happen

2011-03-29T07:55:00.000-07:00

It's never easy to organise a public event. And for those who work, are mothers, wives and daughters, it's all the more difficult. That the Namma Arcot Road initiative has held out despite the odds is due to the excellent team spirit among the coordinators. And this time, it was a full team that delivered. They went one step further to donate part of the proceeds to Arvind Foundation, a charitable organisation for special children.

Here's a picture of the team after the event and another I particularly liked - because it reflected the spirit of the evening more than any other picture.

Women power to the fore at Namma Arcot Road jamboree

2011-03-27T23:08:00.000-07:00

A woman expresses herself in many languages… Vimal is one of them. Remember that famous tagline that Reliance used for Vimal saris in the mid-1970s? That came from advertising legend Frank Simoes who also crafted some absolutely stunning visuals to go with that breathtaking tagline. Simoes, a genius who was also one of India’s best copy writers ever, is no more but his tagline continues to find expression in various ways.

This means that women, despite the odds, do find ways of expressing themselves when given a chance. Of course we all know (or do we?) that women are loving and caring, they go out of their way to please whom they like (mothers, fathers, siblings and children) and also people they don’t much care for (husbands and mother-in-laws, somehow father-in-laws come out as squeaky clean), they are more genuine in their affections than men are, and they have the amazing energy to work almost everywhere.

Multitasking may be a new word, but women over centuries have been doing just that. What they also do with equal aplomb is freaking out or having fun if you like, when given an opportunity. The pleasure they derive from small things, a man can never understand and at times it might even seem stupid to some men, but when women let go there’s no stopping them. And it really cuts across all age groups. I saw proof of that last night.

Well, I’m glad that Namma Arcot Road coordinators are also determined to have fun while trying focus on issues such as heritage. They (it’s an all-woman team) probably never had as much fun and excitement as they did when they put up a women’s fest at Hotel Green Park. When the moment arrived they were all out in resplendent attire – from jeans and Capri to Kanjeevaram silks and Garden chiffons, they were all there, 24-carat (or 18) gold or funky jewellery to match. I overheard (didn’t eavesdrop) one asking another while the music was on, where the latter had her low-cut blouse stitched. And then she drew aside up her sari pallu to examine closely the beads that hung from those blouse sleeves. I almost winced.

There were only a few men who dared enter the hall; there were quite a few outside swaying their heads from side to side to catch of glimpse of goings-on inside. And the few who were inside, were a photographer or two, a husband who was called to judge a ramp walk, and maybe (give credit to them) one or two who had the gall.

So, for about three hours, there was music and dance, singing aloud, and a variety of games that saw paper cups, buckets, glasses, water and even biscuits being used. Can you imagine men coming up with this sort of thing! Well, I can’t. But it was such a pleasure, seeing women in their 70s jiving and keeping pace with those in their teens and early twenties. There were also times when I almost burst out laughing (outside the hall, that is), like when a 71-year-old said she wanted to sing for her 78-year-old husband (he was probably at home) and then she cracked up after dishing out hardly a line of legible prose (or poetry if you will). Later on, I saw her going wild on the dance floor as if there was no tomorrow.

The ramp walk saw women climb the stage one after the other and strutting about a little, swaying to the music, each one a winner in some way. They didn’t need a Sabira Merchant (diction expert for Femina Miss India), a Queenie Singh (image and make-over expert), an Anupam Kher (acting mentor) or a Shiamak Davar (dance guru) to train them. So, more power to such women…

The pictures aren’t too good or clear (I didn’t take them) but they’ll give you a flavour of a night that was. The first two shows the packed hall; then the games with paper cups and the mysterious bucket; and you can se the oldies freaking out in the last one…

Remembering Selvaraj Carvalho, once again...

2011-03-27T05:07:00.000-07:00

I was pleasantly surprised to receive an email from Chris Carvalho (Christy as I know him), about whose father, Selvaraj, I had written in an earlier blog, titled, ‘Requiem for a neighbour and a gentleman’. I’m reproducing his note so that others who know Selvaraj and Chris and their families, will get to read and understand Christy’s sentiments. I felt quite touched, and swallowed hard as I watched the video that shows a young Selvaraj and the place where he worked. This is what social documentation is all about. If only we had more Christys… Here’s the email he sent me:

Sashi,

Thanks for this blog. You have said so many good things about my dad.

I received this email while I was traveling and read this in KL airport.

Life in Sangeetha Colony is a remarkable one. We virtually grew up with the likes of Anita (D-107E), Kiran & Kishan (D-113F), Praful & Pravin Nair (D106F), Bindu, Binny, Bobby and many others who moved into the colony back in 1978. And we were all so well connected during those days, which seems lacking a bit now.

Mum & dad were planning to visit Oz & NZ back in 2001. Dates fixed, tickets purchased, when dad came to know that the insurance does not cover his heart condition. I tried convincing him that we can meet the expenses in case of an eventuality, he was not convinced; he did not want to burden us. This sealed the fate of any chance for him to visit us. And, mum couldn't leave him to visit us. However, I'm glad that we were able to visit them 6 times in the last 4 years, thanks to our stay in Brunei which is much closer to India. And, we were able to host a fantastic 50th wedding anniversary celebration for them, which was probably the last time that mum, dad and the 4 of us were together.

Retirement is a fantastic portion of our life and my dad lived this very well. He was positive about it. Usually, sickness in old age can be attributed to loss of hope and uncertainty. He was never sick. And his prayer, life and his relationship with God was the pillar of his hope and strength. It was only in the last few days that he was getting frail and Angelo's demise could have been a major factor.

His life has taught me a lot. Your blog has certainly been uplifting. Thanks for sharing this with me.

I am emailing a YouTube link which might interest you. We were in Tudiyalur for 5 years where Franky was born. In fact, the old photo was taken even before his birth. Dad was the factory manager for that T.Stanes fertilizer factory. I briefly visited this place on 29-Dec-10, less than 3 months back! Showed this video to dad and he was very happy. He had shared his feelings about this video to the neighbors.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sH-Xn3oDGL0&feature=youtube_gdata_player

BTW, dad's name is Ambrose Santiago Carvalho, as on the baptism certificate. Selvaraj is what his mum called him and eventually made it to his SSLC certificate, his passport etc. For all purposes, his name is Selvaraj Carvalho.

Chris Carvalho

Do we need polio campaigns when there are urgent public health issues that need attention?

2011-03-25T23:29:00.000-07:00

Since 2004, there has been no case of polio in Tamil Nadu. Despite that, the State has continued with the pulse polio campaign from 2004 till date. This, according to Sheela Rani Chunkath, chairperson and managing director, Tamil Nadu Industrial Investment Corporation Ltd, who was speaking at the inaugural of the PII-UNICEF workshop conducted to sensitise journalists to issues concerning children and women.

Chunkath stressed there were many more urgent public health issues than polio; even many more deaths from traffic accidents during 2000-10, for instance. Everything had to be done with a sense of proportion, she said, and pointed to multinational pharmaceutical companies who wanted to sell their medicines in the Indian market that was open for grabs, rather than addressing more pressing issues such as malnutrition and diabetes that resulted in many deaths.

A simple HBA 1C test for diabetes, Chunkath pointed out, was good enough to judge the sugar levels of people. But hardly anybody knew this, she said, adding that enough was not being done to educate people about illnesses such as diabetes.

Touching on aspects of social development issues concerning women, Chunkath said that there was no data on maternal deaths or on infant mortality, no facilities for emergency obstetric care when women did in fact visit the local hospitals. Tamil Nadu, she emphasised had one of the best public health systems and “the government can do anything if it sets its mind to it”. She was, however, not for government hospitals adamant on 100 per cent institutionalised delivery for providing incentive; there was no harm in babies being born at home, but the incentive should still be given, she said.

“Institutionalised delivery is working in Tamil Nadu. Men have no idea about the trauma of birth; there’s no empathy for women,” she said, and referred to the Birth Companion programme she had introduced where every woman had a companion while delivering a child. She rued the stamping out of traditional birth behaviour (delivery of babies at home), and the dying skills of the dai, the traditional birth attendant.

Dwelling on the aspect of female infanticide, Chunkath said that from 1995 there were no details as to how many children had been killed as a result. During her term as State health secretary, she had embarked on a vigorous campaign to stamp out the practice in districts, blocks and villages, especially in areas such as Dharmapuri, Salem, Namakkal and Usilampatti where female infanticide was rampant. Chunkath termed it a post-Independence phenomenon and described its origins to the patriarchal family system where women were not allowed to light the funeral pyre, they had no inheritance rights, and were seen as incapable of looking after old parents. She was all for “shaking patriarchy” and wondered how educated doctors could be so insensitive and send women to scan centres that were doing roaring business. “Abortion is legal in India but you cannot unleash it on women. No doctor should be willing to reveal the sex of the unborn child. Educated people are the problem,” she said.

Coming to child health care, Chunkath said only allopathic drugs were administered to children in Corporation schools. Herbal (Ayurveda, Siddha) medicines can be introduced into the school health programme, medicines which could easily tackle headaches, fever, diarrhoea and dysentery. “We need validation from the West. Look within Tamil Nadu, at what resources we have. We need a strong government that looks at people’s interest,” she said.

Lessons to learn: working journalists do not have the time / inclination to sit through 2-day workshops

2011-03-24T23:45:00.000-07:00

Journalists are generally not known to be a patient lot. Most get restive easily, quite a few have a chip on the shoulder, and then there are those who don’t suffer fools gladly (I belong to the last category). At press conferences, there are even stringers and junior reporters who try to show how important they are. There are also hangers-on, those who come for a free lunch or dinner (when there are cocktails you’ll find more of them) and then disappear. However, during my two decades and more in journalism and PR, I’ve been fortunate to meet some wonderful reporters and writers and editors, many of whom have remained close friends for years. I’ve seen the passion in some for chatting up sources, digging in-depth for stories and churning out error-free copy. Perhaps they would have found the time for workshops as well.

That was more than a decade ago when life was more easy-paced and The Hindu didn't have competition in Madras, and The Times of India didn't have competition in Bombay. In today’s world of competitive journalism, where time is of the essence, few reporters will have the time or inclination to remain closeted in a workshop for two days. Unless, of course, the newspaper or magazine or TV network is sponsoring the journalist. WAN-IFRA (World Association of Newspapers and Publishers) conducts workshops that are quite expensive, judging by Indian standards, but there are top newspapers that pay and nominate journalists or photographers or designers to attend. Such sessions are usually handled by an expert in the field, and usually from overseas. The participation fee is high not only for the quality of content, but also to meet the expert’s fee, his airfare and hotel accommodation. But overall, WAN-IFRA has had a fairly successful run with such workshops and has in recent times built a name for itself in this respect.

On the other hand, when you offer a two-day workshop for free, with no commitment from any of the major newspaper or magazine publishers or TV or online networks to send their reporters or editors to attend, chances are that participation will be far from encouraging. And that is how the workshop conducted jointly by the Press Institute of India and UNICEF earlier this week turned out to be. It was only the inaugural and opening session that saw a reporter each from three of Chennai’s mainline English newspapers, and a few from the Tamil press. Once all of them left, the challenge was to how to get participants and show numbers. There was a sprinkling of freelance writers but if UNICEF and PII were looking at a select target audience, it was missing. On the second day, a few students from the Asian College of Journalism arrived to make up for lost space. That some of them might have benefited at the end is another story.

It’s a lesson for the future. If free workshops have to succeed, then the organisers must have a short, interactive session, primarily with handpicked journalists, allowing others to attend only if they have a record of writing on the subject at hand. They must list out the journalists who are covering events that they wish highlighted and who are likely to be interested in attending; the next step is to talk to the heads / editors of various publications and ensure that the person wanted is permitted to attend. Sending emails and making the odd calls just do not work.

The organisers must also understand that the compulsions of the city editor in a large newspaper are huge, especially during election time. He or she will not be able to spare a reporter for two days, even if the reporter is not on the political beat. Quite a few reporters double up as copy editors and their absence in the newsroom is felt almost immediately. So, the timing of workshops is another factor that needs consideration.

Also, it’s a question of money spent – for the hall and food for two days. And as is more often the case, the results will not be there for anyone to see. There was coverage of the inaugural by a couple of the city’s leading newspapers, but then that was not really the main objective of the workshop. The hope is that those who stayed back and benefited will bring to bear what they have learnt in future writings concerning issues related to children and women.

Some more lingering images from Sabarimala

2011-03-22T10:55:00.000-07:00

Lingering images of Sabarimala… thick forests; devotes being carried on the doli; and one of several points where beads, malas and other knick-knacks hawked attracted passing devotees.

The fourth picture shows the soothsayers and removers of obstacles at the Malikapuram Temple dedicated to Malikapurathama, who according to legend emerged from the body of the demon, Mahishi, destroyed by Lord Ayyappa. She wanted to marry Ayyappa but he refused, saying he was a Brahmachari. When she pleaded, he said he would when there were no first-time visitors to his shrine.

The last picture might intrigue many. But the mannequin has always been there for years and you usually spot it as you descend. The person owning her sells an assortment of clips and other implements that can be used to style a woman’s hair. Some entrepreneurship… considering that the women who are supposed to trek up and down the hill must be bordering 50 and girls below 10 wouldn’t need them anyway. But who said men don’t buy stuff for their wives and girlfriends back home. They do, and this picture is proof of that.

Sabarimala - more images

2011-03-22T04:19:00.001-07:00

The waters of the Pamba were placid this time, with hardly a crowd at the banks as the first two pictures show. But there was lot of litter / leftovers and the authorities had done nothing to keep the place clean. The tender coconut vendor here waits for customers even as the mercury hits a high for March. The typical shelter you find along the way, usually packed with hardly a place to rest, but this time the number were few. And a view of devotees arriving and returning early morning, about an hour after the sun had risen.

A corner in Aranmula where time stands still

2011-03-21T05:08:00.000-07:00

There are many places in Kerala where time stands still, well, almost. It’s a land of streams and rivers, boats and boatmen, elephants and water birds, and of course temples. Aranmula, where we usually halt on our way to Pamba, is a small dusty town which still has some old-world charms. Before the PWD guesthouse is a wonderful sight – of a gently flowing rivulet, a wizened boatman who rows passengers across the bank for as little as a rupee or two. Wonder whether he knows that the 50 paise coin will go out of circulation soon.

Pictures show views from the guesthouse (which has been done up inside), of the waters, of Nature really, and of how you can spend a day just sitting there and watching the waters flow past, against the splendid backdrop of green (trees on the banks) and blue (the open sky where seagulls and eagles fly).

The trek to Sabarimala

2011-03-20T09:58:00.000-07:00

I’ve been going to Sabarimala since 1984. Not every year, but most years. Every time, it’s been a satisfying experience, going together as a group of six or eight or ten, alighting at the Chengannur Railway Station in Kerala, hiring a van to Pamba, stopping at the PWD guesthouse in Aranmula to wash and change, worshipping at the Krishna Temple in Aranmula, walking barefoot to the cool Pamba waters, having a wash again if one felt like it or just dipping hands and legs in the waters, and then trekking the way up, the toughest part, and then finding accommodation, which usually is the Kerala Dewaswom Board guesthouse.

The first year, in 1984, I remember we had reached well past 6pm; it was dark and drizzling and we held hands and made our way up through difficult terrain, halting several times to drink lemon juice, glucose water etc. But every year, once we climbed the holy 18 steps and entered the temple, all the hardships were forgotten and we would try to get as many darshans as possible. Over time, some of the older members in the group have stayed away, because of age and ill-health, but others have joined. And every time it’s a great feeling doing the journey together.

We’ve never traveled during the peak season, the 41-day Mandalam Festival and then the Makara Vilakku. It’s mostly been September-October or February-March. This time, we chose to go in March and we were most fortunate. Despite the Utsavam, the large crowds were missing and for the first time ever I saw the holy 18 steps empty, or a lone figure climbing up. There were devotees posing before the steps for pictures. And what’s more, we had several darshans and at times it seemed almost unbelievable.

The Sabarimala trip is useful in other ways: there is a bonding among the group, relationships are strengthened, new friendships are forged, there’s bonhomie, and it’s a wonderful feel really. There are several light moments, too. For example, one in the group, a senior customs official, has the habit of snoring loudly at night. It starts like the soft purr of a well-oiled motorcycle, grows into a guttural roar and then explodes in mid-air as it were, almost like some of those crackers you see bursting high up in the sky during Diwali. Obviously, a few of us just can’t get to sleep with the ‘monster’ lying by our side; so, save for pouring water over him, all efforts are made to halt him in his tracks. Often, it’s impossible and we end up up rolling with laughter. And while we manage to finally find some sleep towards break of dawn, more out of lack of sleep than anything else, the monster is up and about after a sound sleep, ready for ablutions.

Pictures show the decorated arch outside the 18 holy steps or Pathinettampadi (notice how bare they are); devotees posing for pictures before the steps; and the sparse crowd inside the temple precincts.

Requiem for a neighbour and a gentleman

2011-03-11T23:23:00.000-08:00

Some time ago I had written about old Tamil Nadu Housing Board HIG (high-income group) flats in KK Nagar being demolished by private builders to make way for new apartment blocks. Most of the residents in these colonies are old-timers with the children either abroad or staying elsewhere. For the elders, there’s a lot of sentiment. They bought the flats in the mid-1970s or so, and paid probably Rs 60,000 then, including registration. Over they years, these colonies have exuded an old-world charm that is difficult to describe.

The colony where I stay is one such, with huge space in the front and trees and shrubs all around the rear. Indeed, for nature lovers, it is an ideal place – it’s beautiful early mornings as all kinds of birds twitter and coo and crow; towards afternoons, it is quiet, so quiet that you can almost hear a pin drop if you are seated on a low branch in one of the tress. I often think of Ruskin Bond when I take a walk behind and gape at the tall trees or scatter food crumbs for the crows and ravens and a couple of dogs.

Soon, it will be a very different picture with many of the blocks getting set to invite the demolishers in. Financially, it’s good, but on the emotional front it’s a battle. Quite a few old couples are loathe to leave, even if it is only for two years, the time the builders will take to produce the new apartment blocks. They are in their 80s, not quite the right time to shift houses, houses that have been their homes for about 30 years. Anything can happen in two years and for some not in good health two years is a very long time.

One such neighbour is Mr Selvaraj, I never can get his first name. He’s been a resident in the colony for about 30 years; he’s seen his peers grow old and die, he’s seen children grow to become adults and leave, he’s also seen the death of his eldest son. Everyday before that death, Selvaraj would walk briskly down the colony early morning. It was a habit for years – first to the church nearby and then to his son’s for breakfast. His full-sleeve short neatly tucked in, his shoes gleaming black, his eyes hit the ground as he purposefully surged forward. It was like a morning walk for him, doubled by the happiness of meeting up with his son. But God had other plans. Selvaraj stopped the practice after his son died all too suddenly. Although he would come outside his home later, only with banyan and mundu, he was somehow not the Selvaraj of old. He would still smile and chat up people he knew closely, but deep inside he must have been grieving.

To add to it, when subject of demolition and re-building came up, he had no choice as the rest of the owners in his block had agreed and he didn’t want to say no. His heart was not for it though. This was his home for years where he was used to walking in the space in front, waking up at 3am and making coffee, waiting for the newspaper and looking out through the windows behind, and listening to music, which he loved. It hurt him so much that he once entered a friend’s house and told him that he preferred dying in his own home rather then elsewhere.

As it turned out, Selvaraj’s wishes came true. A couple of days ago, he died. He knew he was leaving. My pulse is going down, is all he said. The whole day he was up and about, walking restlessly, inside his home and outside. I saw him cross the road to go to a shop. Somebody else saw him standing still for a few seconds, moving forward, and then standing still again, on his way back. He just did not want to be taken to the doctor. The end came the same day evening. It was almost like a samadhi.

Today is his funeral. As I’m all set to leave on a pilgrimage to Sabarimala, I could not go and pay my last respect to him. But I heard that they had dressed him up, complete in a coat and tie and trousers. That’s the way he would have liked it. I remember seeing him so attired at a family function he had organised a few years ago.

Selvaraj never involved himself in politics or petty talk of any kind. He always had a smile and would come running to greet people he liked. He would clasp your hands tightly in his and give it a vigorous shake. At times, it was difficult to let him go. He loved talking about old times. He was said to have had a bad temper but he hardly ever showed it outside.

Earlier this week, everyday on my way to the Ayyappan temple nearby, I would bump into him early morning. And we would chat, sometimes joined by another old friend. Today, as I walked the same way I noticed a shamiana had been erected and visitors streaming into his home. I found it difficult to swallow and my eyes grew moist.

Thank you for being my friend, Sir, and may your soul rest in peace.

Good to be in the thick of things when you have some authority

2011-03-09T07:32:00.001-08:00

When I started my career as an officer in the insurance industry little did I think that one day I’d be changing course and latching on to (no, not at straws) public relations and journalism. Later, when I was heading the PR and corporate communication function for a large South India-based business group and began writing for newspapers and magazines, little did I know that one day in the midst of accompanying oversees visitors and journalists (thank God there were no tapes then) I would once again change course, albeit slightly, to pursue a full-time career in writing and editing, which led me to work, first for India’s top business daily, then for the world’s apex body in the news publishing field, and then for India’s largest circulated English daily.

Today, I wonder whether I’ve taken up more than what I can chew – editing two journals for the Press Institute of India and being a sort of roving editor for two top Delhi-based publications. All this must sound indeed like I’m raving about my performance, but I’m not. It’s just that finally, in the 27th year of my career, I seem to have found my true métier. May be travel has something to do with it, but it’s also being in charge. High-sounding designations without authority mean nothing and I’ve experienced some of it myself and have seen people unhappy without being given the freedom to do what they want. And when you are a writer or an editor without some authority, it can smother you inside.

Well, UNICEF and the Press Institute of India are organising a two-day workshop for journalists on March 23 and 24 in Chennai to sensitise journalists on issues that relate directly to children: eradicating extreme poverty and hunger, achieving universal primary education, reducing child mortality, improving maternal health, combating HIV/AIDS, and promoting gender quality. All part of the UN Millennium Development Goals, which have been set for achievement by 2015.

In Tamil Nadu, under nutrition of children, declining trend in the immunisation rates, not much of an improvement in the use of sanitary latrines, unaddressed child protection issues such as female infanticide, child marriage, abuse against children including corporal punishment in schools are some of the issues that are not highlighted adequately by the media. Here’s hoping reporters and editors, especially those connected with development journalism, will participate in the workshop. There is no participation fee.

Firebrand Gnani Sankaran talks sense, offers food for thought... and action

2011-03-02T10:14:00.000-08:00

Gnani Sankaran is what you might call one hell of a writer. The popular Tamil journalist is now turning out to be a fiery English columnist, that is ever since he started writing for The New Indian Express. What readers like or love about him is that he is as bold as they come, plainspoken and uncompromising, whether the subject be art, culture or politics. Indeed, his pen spares nobody, not even politicians as old and as seasoned as Tamil Nadu Chief Minister M. Karunanidhi.

Sometimes, you wonder from where Gnani gets his courage. Is he not afraid of being attacked by goons or heckled by ruffians at meetings he attends? He says no. It’s not he who is frightened, but the reader, the aam aadmi, the janta. It’s their cross he’s carrying, unmindful of the consequences, yet there are not many who are willing to stick it out with him when it comes to brass-tacks. Yet he is willing to go the extra mile. He gave the example of how he once protested by lying at the entrance to Museum Theatre in Egmore when the autorickshaw he was traveling in was stopped from going inside. He lost the battle then, but won the war later when the Museum director wrote to him apologising and assuring him that the next time, the vehicle would be allowed in if he had a valid ticket for the show.

Gnanai is younger than 60, but he has been making a mark as a firebrand writer for more than 30 years, ever since he began wielding the pen. He is an author, is into alternative theatre (his plays are for the middle-class) and a filmmaker. He was one of the founder members of the Koothu-p-pattarai repertory in 1976. His objective overall: to promote values and provide clean entertainment. The second Sunday of every month sees a crowd of 100-plus in the backyard of his residence in KK Nagar, when somebody who has something interesting to say, sing or play entertains the gathering.

Gnani’s Web site (www.gnani.net) has this legend: An eye for an eye will make the whole world blind (attributed to Mahatma Gandhi). Apt indeed. Despite being the person he is, Gnani comes off as humble and down-to-earth. He is friendly at the outset; no frills for him. In his trademark kurta-pyjama he could very well pass off as a Bengali bhadralok. And perhaps he hangs a satchel over his shoulder as well.

I met Gnani for the first time last Saturday and we hit it off straight away. More than that, it was what he had to say to the audience that got me and the rest thinking. He asked the organisers, the Namma Arcot Road coordinators, why there were hardly any youngsters in the audience, adding that if they were indeed called and things were made interesting for them, they would arrive. From an angry young man of the 1970s (much like Amitabh Bachchan), he had graduated to an angry old man, which meant that nothing really had changed on the ground in India.

Gnani blamed the aam aadmi, the people, for most of society’s ills. Most people were interested only in their comfort; they were not really keen to ensure that the person next door was happy too. He mentioned that there had been attempts to stop him from speaking in public, and asked the organisers what they would do if somebody did turn up to halt the discussion. It was then that he said he wasn’t afraid, but that the common people were, and it was such fear that encouraged the goons. He stressed that although he was asked not to dwell on politics and political parties, “politics is a part of our times and it affects everybody till death… we can’t be oblivious to it.”

Gnani voiced his ire against the Indian educational system, a system that, according to him, imparted only skills and no values, values that went beyond religion. Children were hardly taught what team effort was all about, what cooperation or collaboration could achieve, all of which could be learnt well only through sport and culture. Many schools did not even have playgrounds. The public grounds available were often used for walking by the elderly. The result: children had no space to play and learn team spirit. “So children now only have the cinema to go to. There is only television to cater to their needs. They have to be content with what they get,” he said, and added: "We only train them to make money.”

Gnani pointed out that it would take at least five more generations to change things as they were, and only if there came along change agents, people who were proactive and cared enough about children and grandchildren to do something worthwhile. Quite a frightening prospect. Even that was difficult, he felt, because there was so little collaborative effort. People hardly knew neighbours, except when there was a fight or a death in the family, and there were hardly any exchanges between neighbours or friendship forged between children in an area.

One of the pertinent points Gnani made was about the fact that nowadays in many homes there were hardly meaningful conversations - between husband and wife, parents and children, or children and grandparents... The little conversations there were, were only functional - have you locked the door... don't forget to fetch milk etc. When there was lack of proper communication even at home, Gnani wondered how things could change quickly for the better in the outside world.

Pictures show Gnani quite at home, and the audience catching every word...

Youngsters create buzz and energy in what is no longer India's Garden City

2011-02-19T04:05:00.000-08:00

I’ve always loved traveling and not many years ago when I was in PR, I was a person on the move. The past few years, though, hasn’t seen much of movement, focused more as I was on editing rather than meeting people and writing. Things are set to change (they already have) with my work for a leading Delhi-based publisher likely to get me on the move again. Another forthcoming assignment as editor of two journals will add to the movement.

Well, earlier this week, or the whole of this week, I was in what was once the Garden City, meeting up with printers, packagers and software solution providers. I would hesitate to call it by that name hereafter. For, the tree cover that Bangalore was so well known for in the past has all but disappeared, making way for brick and glass high-rises, the Metro and what can ostensibly be called infrastructure development. Sadly, I didn’t carry a camera; the old one I had has run its course and I’ll have to pick up a replacement soon. Pictures in this case would have spoken louder than words.

Whether it was the Bommsandra Industrial Area, Vasanthnagar, Kamakshipalaya, Ulsoor or Whitefield, Nandidurg Road, Race Course Road, Bannerghata Road or Peenya Industrial Area, there was a buzz and an energy that is difficult to describe. At Whitefield, my colleague from Delhi and I played merry-go-round a few times before locating offices; there are so many of them – I’m talking about top MNCs such as IBM and ExxonMobil. Almost everywhere, we had to undergo stringent security checks. No name dropping will help anymore. At the ABB office, I had my picture taken while the security chief prepared the visitor pass.

There were youngsters all over the place, many in fairly senior positions. You can spot them with badges on roads, crossing junctions, smoking cigarettes, chatting up over tea or coffee at petty stalls outside glittering modern buildings of chrome, glass and steel... all of them smartly attired, striding purposefully indoors and outdoors almost as if there were no tomorrow. A foreign visitor would readily say that the country's future is in very good hands. I would say too, except that many of them work for overseas companies and MNCs. How much better is they turned entrepreneurs and chose to do something for India! I did meet a four-some of such a kind - all focused on conjuring up software solutions for Indian industry. May they do well.

The other thing I noticed: no trooping into offices or towards cubicles where the person you are supposed to meet, is seated. Now, he or she comes out to greet you and motions towards what are called ‘discussion’ or ‘huddle’ rooms strategically positioned close to the reception. If you wish to go to the wash room, your host has to swipe his card and take you in. Coffee is the preferred beverage that is served, and mineral water is now offered in small sealed bottles. Most of the offices are absolutely world-class. Of course, it’s a sort of caged effect and I for one would feel claustrophobic were I to work in one of these.

With the Metro set to roll soon (the trial run was successful earlier this week), Bangalore residents will find it much easier to commute. The connectivity with buses is an added advantage. Overall, I got the impression that Bangalore has become a far larger city than what we imagine it to be. Even without the IT parks, there has been considerable development, and there is much more to come. The sad part is the price that has been paid for it – the green cover has vanished from many parts of the city. The numerous trees chopped on MG Road for the Metro were / are supposed to have been / be replanted. But people I spoke to say that is unlikely.

Despite the loss of tree cover, despite the weather getting warmer, despite the ills of development and despite the high cost of living, Bangalore continues to attract people and many of them still choose to call it home. It’s as cosmopolitan a city as you would find anywhere in India. That, clubbed with a climate that still scores over other cities, is what makes the city special today; no longer its gardens.

Elections in India do not actually reflect the will of the people, say students

2011-02-11T03:45:00.000-08:00

Well, N.S. Venkataraman, trustee, Nandini Voice for The Deprived, keeps me up-to-date with some of the social work he does all the time. Recently, he conducted an all-India essay competition for the college students. The topic: How to overcome money power and muscle power in elections. It may be recalled that Venkataraman had stood for elections some years ago and was unsuccessful.
Ten students were awarded prizes in Chennai on January 30 (Martyr’s Day) N. Vittal, former central vigilance commissioner. B.S. Raghavan, former chief secretary, Government of Tripura, and Gnani, fiery writer complemented the students for their efforts.

So, what did the students have to say? Here goes (the following is the unedited version, so you will find several errors relating to English grammar)

- The targets for the power-hungry Indian politicians are the simple minded and poor citizens living below poverty line, who are vulnerable to the temptations of easy money and vague promises due to their desperate economic and social conditions.

- Such poor citizens are cajoled with bribing for votes and are also threatened with muscle power which is nothing but a by product of money power. Considering the prevalence of the twin evils of money power and muscle power, the results of the Indian elections cannot be considered as genuine mandate of the people.

- The evil practices start even at elections to the students unions in colleges and universities and gain full scale at the panchayat, municipal, state and national level.

- Today, the money and muscle power play such a dominant role in elections, that there is little chance for a common man with honest intentions and little resources to contest elections , even if he has the capability. The political parties are responsible for this situation, since they only consider the “winnability” (money power & muscle power) of the person for nominating him as the party candidate. Therefore, the political parties in India should be held totally responsible for denying the citizens good candidate to choose and thus killing the spirit of electoral democracy.

- The ground conditions have to be improved, so that men who value certain code of ethics are enabled to come to the centre stage of politics and contest in the elections.

- The use of money power and muscle power in elections are the direct consequence of corruption in government machinery, which have made money power and muscle power in elections possible. Therefore, without eradicating corruption, it would not be possible to defeat money power and muscle power in elections.

- Obviously, those in pivotal positions like Prime Minister and Chief Ministers should have the will and quality of mind set to combat corruption. If they are party to the corruption either as active participant or as silent spectator, the country has no hope of cleansing the electoral process.

- The Election Commission can play a positive role but it has it’s own limitations, since it depends upon the government machinery to conduct elections, which are under the control of many dishonest politicians.

Suggestions:

Curb black money circulation

Fine-tune the RTI Act

Impose President’s rule three months before the general elections

Need for fast track court for election disputes

Deny permission for more than two terms

Insist on internal democracy in political parties

Curb family interests

Scrap MP/MLA constituency fund

Introduce finger print electronic voting

Permit online voting

Conduct knowledge test for candidates

Bring down cost of election campaign

Educate the voters

Let the Election Commission assume a bigger role

Give security to Election Commissioners / Electoral Officers

Just agreeing to get married can bring families together

2011-02-06T01:38:00.001-08:00

There’s always something to look forward to at family functions when cousins, uncles, aunts, elders and friends come together and everybody enjoys meeting each other and exchanging banter. It’s like the good old days when I used to look forward to visiting cousins’ homes in Kerala, and even a couple of their homes in the city where I grew up – Calcutta.

Although I might not have made many visits – traveling by train to Palghat, with a stop-over in Madras, or to Bombay, where an aunt stayed, by second-class sleeper was considered too cumbersome to be done at regular intervals. Also, there was the cost factor – parents in middle-class families in those days tried hard to make ends meet and save whatever money was possible.

I, of course, looked forward to every train journey. I loved sitting by a window and watch the world go by, which was often the greenery of Bengal and Orissa, and the seemingly endless tracts of Andhra Pradesh. It was an absolute thrill when I first passed tunnels during my first visit to Bombay in the early 1970s. The trip was memorable for another reason – it was the first time I had a drink (I was still in school), thanks to a generous uncle who poured large pegs of Chivas Regal into steel tumblers so that my dad could not make out. Or if he did get a whiff, he did not show he knew and I must thank him for it. Strangely enough, I did not get tipsy and remember watching the fare dished out by Doordarshan (another first) in the sitting room, occasionally entering the bedroom to take a swig.

Coming back to the subject of family get-togethers, I attended one on Saturday, which brought together a fairly large group of cousins and their children, and aunts and uncles. The occasion: a niece’s engagement. It was an elaborate function, almost as grand as a wedding, complete with a sumptuous banana-leaf lunch. The only thing missing was ice cream (or did I miss it?) but that didn’t seem to matter.

Generations ago, Malayali families really conducted no engagement to announce a marriage. Once an alliance was decided, it was marriage straightaway and the groom would present the bride with a kasavu mundu. That was it. No tying the thali or garlanding each other. All that came much later. Malayali marriages were so short that over time some of those who conducted such weddings added a little extra here and a little extra there – exchange of betel leaves, touching the feet of elders etc – to prolong the ceremony. All this I have from a fairly authentic source.

Perhaps in those days, there was more trust or there were no fears of the groom or bride running away! I was engaged myself, although my wife now insists it was no proper engagement. All that happened was some of the elders in her family arriving at my uncle’s and ‘sealing the deal’ while presenting fruits and betel leaves and nuts and what have you.

Of course, once you are engaged you know you're stuck. You can almost feel your feet being fettered. Being engaged didn’t give me a license to do anything either. My would-be wife refused to come out even for a cup of tea, she was loathe to accept any gift, and all that she did without making a fuss was post letters to Korba where I was working. In short, the license was only for communicating – quite safe in those days, as snail mail took its time and it was just about ten years after Bill Gates had founded Microsoft. The one time she came out (I must give her credit for that), she was accompanied by her elder sister and brother-in-law and I dared not even hold her hand as we traipsed over crumpled footpaths around Gemini, a few steps behind the senior couple, me trying to make sweet conversation. The dinner at the Chinese restaurant was a bit of non-starter because it was there she decided she wanted to throw up – perhaps the occasion had overawed her or it was just one of those periods when a woman's mood swings beyond a man's comprehension.

Today’s youngsters, however, don’t have such problems. There’s MSN and Skype, there’s SMS, Android, iPad… never really a dull moment. And if they are not allowed to go out together they’d surely call their parents weird or feel weird themselves. Like I overheard a college girl telling another: “They all have boyfriends da, always out most of the time… and I feel kinda weird…” If she can get so desperate I can only wonder at what boys her age who are forced to lead cloistered lives must feel… Anyway, more power to engagements, marriages and family get-togethers.

Pictures taken at the engagement I attended show the para (vessel) being filled with nira (rice) by family members; the nirapara, which symbolises prosperity and perhaps fertility; an elder stands up to formally announce the engagement as close family members strain their ears to listen; one of the signatories to the document; and women power and bonding.

Namma Arcot Road coordinators need to get their act together

2011-02-01T23:24:00.001-08:00

When the Namma Arcot Road initiative got going formally in the first week of October (on Gandhi Jayanti) with Mrs Y.G. Parthasarathy, dean and director, Padma Seshadri Group of Schools, inaugurating, veteran journalist and Chennai Historian S. Muthiah sharing his words of wisdom, and Madras Day/Week catalysts such as Prema Kasturi, V. Sriram and yours truly in attendance, there was a sort of expectation that the group would indeed do something to make Arcot Road, comprising areas from Ashok Nagar to Porur, a happening place at least once a month with heritage talks and walks and getting the Who’s Who of the city to a part of town that’s usually considered the periphery.

Not that the expectation has been proved wrong, but I would like to tell the coordinators or catalysts of the Namma Arcot Road initiative that while the going has been fairly good on the monthly event front, the progress made on the social documenting front, which was stressed as important by Muthiah and which really should be one of the most important planks of the group, has been disappointing. It’s four months past the inaugural effort and to learn that no old-timer has been interviewed yet to record for posterity what the area was once all about, is almost as good as no progress having been made.

I understand that after a meeting with Mrs YGP an effort was made to rope in students of Padma Seshadri, KK Nagar, to help in the social documentation, but since nothing has come of it (strange, since the dean had herself assured the group and given the go-ahead), it is high time the coordinators seek another school or schools in the area to not only bolster their confidence but also strengthen the initiative. I hear that the principal of Amrita Vidyalaya is keen to get her students to do something but getting this off the ground quickly is what the NAR coordinators must now seriously look at.

The question oft asked me is ‘why social documentation’ or how will it help. As a student of history and one interested in conserving heritage, I can only say that successful completion of the exercise could lead to a possible book or books about Arcot Road. And a book like that is worth more than its weight in gold.

The other thing I’d like to tell the coordinators is that more effort must be made to get events listed in newspapers, especially in the neighbourhood papers that reach many homes in the area. People must know when an event is happening and what it is about. A visit to newspaper offices, mainline and neighbourhood, is essential. Taking the easy route of emailing a press release may not always be the right thing to do. Also, the press needs to see a face or two, not different faces at different times. So, somebody in the group who has a flair for this kind of PR activity and who also has patience must take up what is not an enviable job.

Another thing is the aspect of introducing NAR and the people behind it at every event. This is a very important role and no matter how old NAR will be one day, introducing the initiative briefly and also the people (coordinators) behind it helps. There are new people in the audience every time. Even if there are regulars, there is no harm in launching a five-minute spiel to get the message across. And this has to be done by somebody who can speak fairly well, doesn’t take too long to say what has to be said, and who can hold the attention of the audience. I have seen this go asunder the last couple of times, and this is not the way to go.

The coordinators may think I’m a little harsh, but the fact is that these things need to be plainly told. And as a sort of adviser I guess I have that liberty. The Madras Book Club is an example of how a well-conducted programme, month after month, can earn the respect of people, and how it has made in a mark in the ten years and more of its existence. The Club started informally, with space offered by a leading hotel and little else other than tea and biscuits. Membership was free. Today, it costs Rs 600 to be a member, the events are usually packed to capacity because the Club is able to get leading writers and publishers on one platform.

So, Binita and Gargi, and all the rest of the coordinators, I think you will do well to have a sort of postmortem and get the train back on track. Not that it has veered off, but it is running a bit directionless now. This happens with most voluntary efforts, so there's nothing to feel bad about at all. The initiative becomes healthier when you learn and keep correcting mistakes all the time.

Well, Chitra Madhavan, despite the audio system not performing as it should have, held the audience’s attention last Saturday with a talk about temples in the Arcot Road area. The attendance could have been far better, and that is where events being listed in newspapers help.

Chitra, who is a good friend, is as modest as they come. She is a fount of knowledge. After completing her M.A. and M. Phil from the Department of Indian History, University of Madras, and her PhD from the Department of Ancient History and Archaeology, University of Mysore, Chitra was awarded a junior fellowship in archaeology for 2001-01 for post-doctoral research. She has authored two volumes each of the History and Culture of Tamil Nadu and Vishnu Temples of South India. She has also co-edited South India Heritage – An Introduction. She is now working on another post-doctoral dissertation with a fellowship from the Indian Council of Historical research, New Delhi.

Pictures show Chitra making her presentation, a view of the audience, and yours truly introducing the guest and adding his two-bit on social documentation.

And going back in time in the City of Joy

2011-01-30T07:40:00.000-08:00

It’s such a joy to be in Calcutta, the city where I was born and spent two decades of my formative years. Of course, my view is not that of an outsider – someone recently said she vomited every time her father took her there as a child (she probably meant the sights, sounds and smells at the Howrah Station), and I was just trying to keep my temper in control. Yes, we all have heard of Rajiv Gandhi providing that ‘dirtiest city’ label. Let me say that over the years I been there, after leaving the city in 1983, I’ve not really spotted mounds of garbage or offal rotting in the streets. Kolkata that is Calcutta, garbage and all (which city doesn’t have garbage?), has a soul of its own, its residents are some of the warmest you can meet anywhere, the most helpful, and there are few cities that can beat the range of delectable eating fare it offers.

I usually visit the city once a year, except for the odd year when that doesn’t happen – blame it on work or lethargy. Now, after moving on to work that offers me quite a bit of flexible time, I’ve decided to find time for more travel and Calcutta is where I’m likely to head when the time is right. My sister being there is an added incentive. I have a place to stay, there’s lovely home-cooked food, I get fussed over, and the place where she stays is just right for me – away from the city, more than a flavour of the suburban, palm tress all around, sparrows you hardly find nowadays, eagles, a pond… and quiet, especially after evening, which I so very much love. That she and my brother-in-law do not switch off television past midnight is another story, but the past week I’ve got used that rhythm as well.

This time, I caught up with an old friend, a very close one at that. He’s been through some tough times in life – business taking a plunge, a failed marriage, father and uncle dying in quick succession, his mother imprisoned after a legal case was slapped on him by a bride who looked as sweet as sugar (when I saw her years ago) and her family. Whoever said women cannot make life difficult! And stoop to levels that you would not expect of them. Anyway, he’s gone through hell and been able to bounce back, albeit slowly. And we met at the Exide-Haldiram crossing past Camac Street where my brother-on-law has his office.

The City of Joy is very special to me. My father had arrived here in the early 1950s to begin his working career. Calcutta was the place to be in those times (other than Bombay) - for work, that is. My dad must have helped at least 20 of his relatives find employment, including youngsters who didn't know a word of English or Hindi. For example, there was a cousin of mine who would call my dad 'Big Father', after the Malayalam equivalent of it - Valiyachhan. There was a large group of Malayalees that was part of the weekly card games, a very serious business for most of them. My mother would play host many times and I can only wonder at her dexterity in cooking meals for so many! Our house was a sort of refuge for many and I grew up in awe of my dad...

Over masala chai, seated on a bench, we went back in time and then forward. The confidence was back on his face and he was now focused on his business that had picked up. And then as we inhaled and exhaled cigarette smoke and as the wintry Calcutta air blanketed us as we walked past the Birla Planetarium and Rabindra Sadan packed with Republic Day crowds, it seemed like school days once again. Am hoping there will be many more of those evenings.

Now back in Chennai, I’m missing Cal and my sister and all the food (I had an egg roll for Rs 12 at Nawab’s in Gariahat) and the warmth. With my daughter’s camera playing truant (the flash overworked), I couldn’t take many pictures.

Pictures show the pond as seen from my sister’s flat window, palm trees and where sparrows made merry, the buzz at Gariahat junction, the daily newspaper for all to read, and Gariahat by night…

Travelling back in time on the Delhi Metro, suffused with warmth

2011-01-21T06:04:00.000-08:00

Travelling on the Delhi Metro was a new experience. The Metro has definitely brought about a change in the lives of many, many Delhiites and shortened distances like never before. A couple of my close friends, senior executives in private insurance companies, use the Metro to commute to work.

Although Delhi roads are broad and there seems to be parking space, at least judging by what little I saw, the number of vehicles on the roads is far, far higher than that on Chennai roads. There are fewer two-wheelers, but vehicles of all shapes and sizes. The larger BMWs and Benzes come out in the night and finding parking space in Connaught Place, where I had dinner one night, is not easy.

The Delhi Metro brought back memories of the Bombay suburban trains, more than it did of the Calcutta Metro. People flow in and out as the train glides to a halt at stations and if you are not sprightly enough you could find yourself wedged in between doors that don’t wait too long to close. It’s fairly comfortable inside; you cannot expect to find a seat during rush hour though. You’ll be lucky to find enough standing space.

There is an entrance directly to the Metro from Pragati Maidan and what I saw of two evenings was people scrambling at the entrance to get in. The Bombay culture of queuing up and being orderly was missing. Policemen with AK-47s have to come up to restore order. Carry bags are screened but it’s not difficult to pass through with an explosive substance if you want to. Because there is no frisking as such. Timings are clearly displayed and the Delhi Metro is clean, almost spic and span.

I used the Metro a couple of times and escorting me were a few handsome youngsters from the Indian Printer & Publisher Services, Training and Research (IPP Star) team. As you age, you get respect (if you deserve it) but I was quite overwhelmed by the care and attention the young turks bestowed on me. They ensured I got in and got off first, purchased tickets for me, stood behind me at the entry and exit points where I had to drop tokens, shepherded me into CNG-powered autorickshaws and dropped me right outside the hotel gate.

A couple of them were from Varanasi, one all set to tie the knot. I asked him what he planned to do since his fiancée had a government job in the holy city. He said he would decide after the wedding, a dilemma many youngsters in middle-class families are thrown into. He was proud he had studied at the Benaras Hindu University, India’s No. 1 university in his books (and also by an India Today – Nielsen survey). I chatted up the others; they were a friendly and enthusiastic lot, bubbling with energy, cracking jokes, and I, during the moments I spent with them, suddenly felt younger. And as the train passed the India Gate, Yamuna Bank, Akshardham, Mayur Vihar, Mayur Vihar Extension and New Ashok Nagar stations on to Noida Sector 15, my thoughts raced back to my early years of work more than two decades ago.

No picture was possible at the Metro where photography is banned, but this one at the Printpack exhibition more than made up for it. As some of them provided the protective shield for me at the Metro, these young turks (I don’t know why I’m calling them so) quickly flanked me, eager for a picture that will always bring me wonderful memories.

A quake that got me rushing down the stairs in Noida

2011-01-21T04:22:00.000-08:00

Travelling and meeting people is one of the things I’ve always loved and during my days as the PR head for a leading South Indian-based company, I enjoyed being on the move. In recent years there hasn’t been as much travel as I would have liked – travel on work, that is – but things are likely to change.

Well, earlier this week, I was in Delhi to attend the Printpack 2011 exhibition at Pragati Maidan. The weather was simply gorgeous and I enjoyed myself, both at the exhibition and outside. I’ve of course been to Delhi several times but this time it was a different capital city, with many more huge flyovers (Chennai’s flyovers are really no match for those in Delhi, except perhaps for the Kathipara grade separator) and the Metro. The Metro has changed the lives of many, young and old, men and women, workers as well as executives and businessmen. More about the Metro in a bit…

There was a surprise in Delhi waiting for me… an earthquake, the night the Indian cricketers beat the South Africans. It’s boring sometimes when you are alone in a hotel room and when there’s little to do except reading or watching television. I kept watching the match and decided to take a short nap before the last overs. When I woke up, the match had just ended. As I trotted to the toilet, I felt the room shaking and held on to the side wall, wondering whether I was having a dizzy spell. A few seconds later, the room shook again, this time more violently, and it continued for what seemed endless seconds. I sort of panicked and instinctively switched on the news channels.

There are some channels that do work late into the night. India TV and Aaj Tak flashed the news within ten minutes of the quake, even going on to say that Noida (where I was staying), Gurgaon, Faridabad and Ghaziabad were rocked by a quake that measured 7.4 on the Richter Scale. I rushed downstairs in my pyjamas, with my mobile phones, wallet and camera. The Christmas tree in the lobby had toppled and the two men on duty were wondering what to do. It was too cold to be hovering outside. We chatted and had hot masala chai and after about an hour I took courage to get back into my room. However, I couldn’t find sleep till about 4am. An experience I’m unlikely to forget in a hurry.

Pictures show the building that shook, a view from outside my window of Noida’s congested roads, and the family nearby who makes a living from selling knick-knacks. The man’s wife refused to be photographed although he pleaded with her. But she came back to see the picture I had taken and smiled.

Life can be heavenly without blogs and Facebook

2011-01-10T10:25:00.000-08:00

It’s been a few days – indeed, since the New Year – since I’ve tried to be ‘active’ on my blog or on Facebook. Of course, there has been work, as it comes in large doses sometimes. But more than that, I’ve tried to make a conscious effort to stop blogging for a while and hosting ‘stuff’ on Facebook. It was, I surprisingly found, quite a welcome break. I felt like I had switched off my mobile phone and I actually enjoyed some sort of freedom. It’s difficult to explain.

I know blogs and Facebook and Twitter and all the rest are great communication tools, but we could still enjoy life without all of that. And enjoy life more, really. Perhaps technology has made children out of some of us adults. Like tweaking a new toy and getting the thrill out of it.

What I enjoyed most of all during the past two weeks, was the time spent with books (no, not newspapers). J.K. Rowling or Jodi Picoult or Ashok Banker, it was time well spent. And I was just thinking about how I had wasted all those moments making friends on Facebook and trying to keep old and new relationships alive. Oh no, I wasn’t really trying. Who does anyway! It’s just that most often there hardly seems any life there at all. It’s so much better calling friends or relatives over or going out and meeting them.

So, I was wondering why I ever got into Facebook and whether it has been useful at all. The answer that kept constantly hammering inside my head was No. The objective was to try and hook up with old school and college friends, probably a long-lost sweetheart, but either nobody cared or they didn’t have the time. Except for a few. But what I have noticed is that even if it has to do with old school friends, there isn’t that urge to revitalize those old bonds. Even among very close friends. Well, if you have 500 and 1000 and 2000 friends, you can’t expect to keep everybody happy, can you?

I instinctively found a striking difference when an old school friend called me the other day – quite out of the blue. He was among my closest buddies. Quite a character (I mean it in a good sense). He doesn’t own a mobile phone, still relies on the telephone. He’s heard of Facebook but I doubt whether he uses email at all. And I’m sure he’ll make no sense of blogs. We’ve had great times in Calcutta as classmates, as friends. He was a regular at home till I left Calcutta in the early 1980s. But we would meet and catch up whenever I visited, which was, of course, times without number. He went through a bad patch, had a failed marriage, his mother was humiliated, he lost his father and uncle. His life was in tatters, save for a business he continued to plough through in Howrah. God helps those who help themselves, and so it was with this friend of mine. He managed to salvage some pride and find a landing space. Finally, things are looking up. He looks after his aged mother and after a long time decided the time was right to get in touch with an old friend.

We chatted for a long time and decided to meet once again during my upcoming Calcutta visit. I’m sure it’s going to be a long session as always; probably he’s going to bunk factory that day. Whatever it is, with that phone call he showed that some friendships can remain as strong as ever. I had lost touch, his phone numbers had changed and I had given up hope of finding him. But here he was, bouncing right back. The phone call happened after the New Year and strengthened my resolve to spend more time doing all the things I used to until the Internet arrived – meeting and talking to friends often, devouring a book a day, listening to music, watching a movie, or just window shopping.

My daughter suggests that I sign out from Facebook. She feels my generation is not meant for it. But I haven’t steeled my nerves to do that yet. Now, if there wasn’t a blog, should I have been able to say all this? And if there wasn’t Facebook, would I have had to say all this?

A dull start to 2011, but ending last year with an award wasn't too bad...

2011-01-01T00:44:00.000-08:00

It’s been a sort of frigid New Year this time, as least that’s my feeling. Until last year, there would be at least half a dozen greeting cards, and an odd letter. The phone calls ceased a few years ago – the ones on the land line at midnight. A few years ago, New Year would be heralded by the constant rings on the telephone, which would go on till about 1am or so. Those would be followed by calls to friends and relatives the following morning. Last night, even the crackers seemed to fizzle out before exploding.

This year, I have not received a single greeting card, which is perhaps saying something. I wonder whether greeting cars sell at all nowadays, which is a pity really. I remember all those visits to various retail outlets while on a drive to buy New Year greeting cards at the most economical prices. There was also a time then I, like many others, would spend long moments picking and choosing cards, to be sent to my sister or nephews, uncles, aunts, cousins, former sweethearts and all the rest. Now that has become history. Perhaps I must find time to do these things again and surprise a few people. Let me see…

All that you receive nowadays are emails (even from old-timers who say they have nothing much to do with the computer!), many of them copies to the whole universe, and as cryptic as they can get. Then there is Facebook, of course. Sad indeed that the days of waiting for, touching and feeling a card, and reaching for it again and again are over.

Last night was a disaster in other ways – erratic voltage, which meant hands off the PC; a hurried dinner with motivation to do little else; and SMSes not being delivered although the network was deducting the charges.

The good side: well, I made a resolution to complete the Harry Potter series and began with the first book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. There's nothing better than a good book to lift your spirits.

The day before was in some ways a celebration. I was an award winner – that’s not happening too often these days. This one was from the Public Relations Society of India, for my editorial work on Precis, the body’s newsletter that I have been editing the past seven years and which has won the all-India award fro 2009-10. The award was received by the PRSI secretary in Kolkata at the recently held national conference. This was not a first (Precis has been a winner a few times before), but PRSI thought it fit to formally hand me and the prepress firm the award.

My links with the PRSI are almost two decades old, beginning with my TTK days as a PR person on the move. Those links have remained strong over the years and I have forged long-lasting friendships with quite a few. Some have retired and moved on; others have blossomed and scaled the ladder.

One of the stalwarts who was honoured with the Lifetime Achievement Award the day before was R.K. Baratan, who, along with Gyan Haksar and M. Gopalkrishnan, was one of the founding members of the PRSI, Chennai Chapter. They were also instrumental in starting the PR degree course in Stella Maris College after convincing Malcolm Adiseshiah, then the vice-chancellor of the University of Madras.

Haksar and Gopalakrishnan are no more, but Baratan continues to be active (he is the president of the Sri Sastha Sangam which runs the Ayyappan Temple in KK Nagar). A topper all through his student days, he has written a couple of books and my talk the day before has now motivated him to complete his second book on PR. With the Radia tapes and all the controversies we are in today, we need people like Baratan to inspire youngsters by clearing the air and adding doses of credibility. Let me hope he will take this as a personal call to be more active in the PRSI.

Pictures show the national vice-president of the PRSI, R.K. Dharan, conducting Tambola (he’s very good at it); Baratan addresses members and their families after receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award; Dharan presents the Precis award to yours truly and Daniel Dass, branch head of Advertising & Sales Promotion Co., which does the page-making and pre-press work; and Dharan presents an award to Neha (for lay out) and to Gopal Singh, head of Nextwave Multimedia, which handles the PRSI Web site.

Yes, life begins at 40... there's so much to look forward to

2010-12-27T01:43:00.000-08:00

Birthday parties are usually associated with children. In the good old days, birthdays of many children would pass by without much notice; perhaps just a special meal cooked at home and payasam thereafter. I remember being given money to buy one or two books and during the more prosperous years for the family, I would have got a new shirt or trouser. In any case, birthdays were different then in a sense – one really didn’t bother too much about celebrations as such.

Coming to more recent times, I remember my daughter and some of her friends all excited and raring to go days ahead of their birthdays. The menu would be decided well in advance, they would accompany parents to pick and choose take-away gifts, insist on buying balloons to decorate the house, and anything else that caught their fancy. At these parties, after the customary cake-cutting ceremony, singing of ‘Happy birthday…” and partaking of the varied fare on offer, the children would play music, dance and invent games of their own. They were too young then to call it a birthday bash, but a bash it would be nonetheless. Of course, once they grew up, the excitement of celebrating birthdays suddenly died down, almost imperceptibly. Now they wanted to take their friends out for high tea or lunch or dinner, or a film if there was a good one playing. Gradually, the friends circle would diminish in size and only the close ones actually got together during birthdays.

If the children have lost some of that early excitement to celebrate their own birthdays, they sometimes go out of their way to organise celebrations for parents. A neighbour’s grandson has just arrived from California on a week’s holiday. The reason he’s here is not because of the New Year but because he and his sister had planned a celebration for their parents’ 25th wedding anniversary. In the last couple of years I’ve been invited to quite a few such celebrations and for the lucky couple it’s almost like being married all over again.

Some children pull out all stops to celebrate the birthday of their parents, too. One such was the 75th birthday of city chronicler S. Muthiah, when his two daughters organised a do at the Madras Club. And then five years later, it was an even bigger event at the same venue when he turned 80. Great occasions both, to not just celebrate but also to bond, for fellowship and reviving old ties. I am all for such celebrations.

Therefore, I was pleasantly surprised one afternoon when my former colleague Bishwanath Ghosh called to invite me for his 40th birthday. It was almost like he was getting out of his teens and entering the heady twenties, as twenties are meant to be. So, how does it feel to be 40? No change as such, he said at the party last night, but I’m sure he must have had a special feeling run through him, backed by a new fair wind and maturity.

It was a party that saw some of the well known names in journalism in Chennai, young and old, turn out; there was a well known doctor as well, a couple of printers, and a young colonel heading to Kargil. He even invited me for a holiday there… may be some day! And as the booze flowed and the spirits soared, most of the talk centred around ethics in journalism, developments in some of the local mainline newspapers, general gossip about the news publishing business, and local politics. It was I would say time well spent.

BG has had a fairly successful launch of his first book, Chai Chai. That has motivated him to get going on a second, based on Madras and its growth. His fondness for research, the old and the new, and felicity with words could soon establish himself as an author of note. Not everybody is qualified to write a book. You may be a good writer-editor but that’s not qualification enough. I have noticed that BG has that extra in him that could mark him out if he pursues his interest with great discipline.

If he does so, I’m sure he need not spend his afternoons and evenings editing dreary and clumsy copy for a newspaper. Instead, he could, like he says he sometimes dreams of, spend that time in a cozy study at home, writing delectable prose… and emerge whenever he feels like to embrace the air outside or to draw inspiration from a swig of wine or a puff of smoke…

When I returned, my wife gave me a quizzical look and asked why I had done nothing to celebrate her 40th birthday, which is several months past... It's a question that is likely to keep popping up every time she is about to hit a landmark year, I'm sure. Thank you, BG!

Pictures show BG flanked by Arun Ram (metro editor, TOI) and yours truly; BG's big moment, with wife Shuvashree, friends, relatives and a host of children; yours truly with S. Muthiah, P. Chanda and a friend; and with Priya Selvaraj, Adithya and Shuvashree.

Namma Arcot Road: Spreading the Christmas cheer

2010-12-26T00:05:00.000-08:00

Hotel Green Park created its own buzz for Christmas... thanks to Ravi and Rohit and their team,... Magic Sharma, and of course Chef Thangappan who laid out a mouth-watering spread for visitors...

There were Christmas carols and Jim Reeves' specials... the two gentlemen you see in the last picture were immersed in their own world... oblivious of visitors who passed by them....

Namma Arcot Road Road: Spreading the Christmas cheer

2010-12-25T23:33:00.001-08:00

And then there was a game of Tambola for parents... Jeeva Raghunath lays down the rules... most people's head are bowed down, engrossed in that slip of paper... Bina Radhakrishnan comes forward to receive a prize... Shivani won the 'full house' prize...

Namma Arcot Road: Spreading the Christmas cheer

2010-12-25T23:18:00.000-08:00

I find it always so very interesting to watch the faces of children and how they react... look at the excitement visible on some of the faces here... at the Namma Arcot Road show at Hotel Green Park children chose not to be just watchers... they put up a skit and tried to entertain.

Namma Arcot Road: Spreading the Christmas cheer

2010-12-25T22:25:00.000-08:00

A session dedicated to reversal of roles - please note: no fathers / daddies to be seen. Mothers as usual... but one of the things that came out clear was that parents seem to be putting too much pressure on children... and when children get the least opportunity they will come out, all cylinders firing...

The mother-daughter duo in the top picture won the first prize... the event was judged by Darina who is seen standing alongside Jeeva Raghunath.

Namma Arcot Road: Spreading the Christmas cheer

2010-12-25T22:12:00.000-08:00

Magic Sharma tries to catch the attention of a toddler; he then quickly gets into his act... and enthralls children and adults alike... look at some of their faces...

Namma Arcot Road: Spreading the Christmas cheer

2010-12-25T22:01:00.000-08:00

Jeeva Raghunath gets the children to warm up, even as a yellow bear ambles in; more children arrive and half an hour into the show it's almost a packed house...

Namma Arcot Road: Spreading the Christmas cheer

2010-12-25T21:53:00.000-08:00

Coordinators of the Namma Arcot Road initiative have been organising an event the last Saturday of every month the past few months. This time, the last Saturday happened to be Christmas and so what better than providing an evening of fun for children and adults.

That is what the coordinators planned to do in the beginning of the month and who better than storyteller Jeeva Raghunath to spice up an evening for the little ones… as much as she is popular with adults, too.

The venue was Hotel Green Park in Vadapalani; the GM and staff there are always so helpful and willing to please… and under Ravi and Rohit’s leadership they pulled out all stops to make it a happening evening.

This series is a sort of pictorial essay… since pictures with children really do not need too much of text to go with them.

Jeeva gets set for the evening; introduces Santa to the first lot of children who have arrived; Santa offers gifts as the little ones are overawed; and the Namma Arcot Road team providing the flavour of the evening…

Restoration of a city's roads - is it asking the civic authorities too much?

2010-12-23T06:38:00.000-08:00

After the rains, the roads in Chennai have become a nightmare for drivers and pedestrians. The topping has eroded completely in many places, the number of potholes, like the 2G Spectrum scam (spectrum has become a bad word these days, hasn’t it?), have too many zeros to really count. New places are being dug up but no real intention is being shown to level areas that lie battered and to make it a little easy for drivers and pedestrians.

This is not something new to Chennai. It happens every year, and you can predict the state of roads better than you can the monsoon. You can also now predict with reasonable accuracy that nothing much will be done for quite a while to improve the pathetic condition of roads. After all, how much does the civic administration really care? If they did, the scene on the ground would have been different. So, while politicians, administrators, civic officials and staff and all those who matter in government travel in chauffeur-driven cars, those who are not as fortunate, and they constitute the majority in the city by far, have to grunt and groan as they try and find their way in the midst of potholes, gravel, large stones and clumps of mud and sand.

The surprising part is that despite reports about all this appearing in the newspapers almost on a daily basis and some television channels showing footage of the terrible condition of roads, the civic authorities do not appear eager to do anything. For example, the terrible state of most of the roads in KK Nagar, Arcot Road, Valsarawakkam and Alapakkam have been written about in local papers and even in the mainline newspapers.

Local or neighbourhood papers may not have much of an impact unless copies reach people in government who matter. Distribution has always been a problem for local newspapers and I’m not quite sure whether these papers actually reach the hands or tables of the local councillor the Corporation commissioner, the Mayor, the ministers in government and the offices of the Chief Minister and Dy Chief Minister etc. A few of the papers regularly report about the abysmal civic conditions, with pictures to boot, and it will be good if the publishers and editors of these papers ensured that copies reached the right places.

Coming back to the point I was raising, of media reports failing to stir civic officials into speedy action, NDTV Hindu had recently run a two-minute clip on the bad conditions of roads in KK Nagar; the clip appeared during the news programme through one whole day. It even showed the concerned councillor ensuring the reporter that restoration work would start once the rains stopped.

Now, it’s been a while since we’ve had heavy rain and many weeks have passed since that clip was telecast. But what has been the action on the ground? The pictures will tell you the story. In some parts the roads have got worse. I could have taken another 20 or 50 pictures like these but I really didn’t have the enthusiasm or courage to drive through Nesappakm, Valsarawakkam, Arcot Road and Alapakkam. It’s like a boat ride in many of these places. And I pitied my car tyres as well.

I think there is a strong need for follow-up stories by media on civic issues. Unfortunately, thanks to pressures and competition, newspapers and television are not finding the time to do that. But if they did, things might be different.

The first is a picture you will see these days – of a cart laden with mud and broken bricks, pulled by an ox, passing by some streets and workers dumping clumps on the battered parts; the second is one end of R.K. Shanmugham Salai – now how on earth are you going to drive past that? The third is a portion on Alagiriswamy Salai I passed just after the workers had done their bit – so who is going to even this out? The next one, if I had a better camera or had spent more time over taking the picture, I probably would have won some award – two craters and a heap of mud and broken bricks right outside the gate of Padma Seshadri School. And the last one is a scene at the junction of Lakshmanaswamy Salai and Alagiriswamny Salai. Yes, the workers must have come later to do the patchwork but for long hours the heap remained.

Is this the way the crores of rupees allotted for restoration work are being or will be spent? I hope not.

Old colonies disappear fast in KK Nagar as builders take charge

2010-12-20T08:42:00.000-08:00

It’s difficult to believe today that not too many years ago – in the early 1970s – there was really no proper approach road to KK Nagar, that there were hardly any buildings that dotted the landscape, and that most of the area was made up of paddy fields and poromboke land.

Gnanasundaram, who runs a provision store, and who arrived in KK Nagar in 1972, one of the first, recalls how he could make out people walking from Ashok Pillar – there was no building or construction to destroy his field of vision. Indeed, every night there would be two men at Pillar, stopping strangers heading towards KK Nagar and MGR Nagar, to verify which house they were going to visit, at times even accompanying the stranger to the designated place to ensure he was not lying. Gnanasundaram says every street had no more than a dozen families, and every evening two residents volunteered to keep vigil through the night. Today, he doesn’t even know half his neighbours.

The development of KK Nagar began in the early 1970s when the Tamil Nadu Housing Board set up flats near Pullayar Koil. In the mid-1970s, Housing Board flats (the HIG type) came up on what is today Anna Main Road – Sowbhagya, Sangeetha and Ashok Colonies. Soon, similar buildings came up on Rajamannar Salai, PT Rajan Salai and other places in KK Nagar. The establishment of Padma Seshadri School in KK Nagar in 1975 gradually led to more people taking up residence here and many moved into these Housing Board flats because they found them roomy and convenient.

Earlier, the trickle began when a few of those who had invested in the flats moved in. With lack of proper civic infrastructure, not many were willing to set up home with families. But the school soon changed all that and as it happens with development, other buildings came up, smaller schools, doctors’ clinics, pharmacies and more petty shops.

AR Nair, a long-time resident of the area who moved into Sangeetha Colony in 1976, immediately after the flats were ready for occupation, says he often had to go to Ashok Pillar to catch a bus to office. The bus service from the KK Nagar bus depot was skeletal. He stresses that the flats built by the Housing Board then (during the Emergency) were of very good quality because there was a fear then of resorting to corruption or producing shoddy work. He adds that most of the flats were south-facing and built based on an excellent plan, so that there was adequate ventilation, the bedrooms had privacy, there was a puja room, the kitchen had a storeroom and a cleaning area, all of which you do not see in the houses of today. More than anything, all these colonies had huge open areas ideal for walking and playing games and the early residents built up a rare bonhomie that continued over the years.

Sadly, over the years, maintenance has been very poor in most of the Housing Board colonies with the result that what was once a splendid place residents could show off to friends is today a place you would rather hesitate to call your friends. For, not only do the façade of many of these buildings tell a sorry tale, the interiors have also suffered damage, with leaking roofs, plaster peeling off walls and solid crack on several parts of the construction. In some cases, it has become dangerous for residents with cracks on the foundation structure as well.

No wonder then that many of the old-time residents in almost all the Housing Board colonies in KK Nagar have decided to open the doors to private builders who are only too eager to capitalise on the opportunity.

Some of the offers are indeed tempting. You get a new flat of about 1,600 sq ft built-up area (old flats are about 1000 sq ft), a down-payment of Rs 20 lakh or thereabouts, the builder pays you rent (Rs 12,000 at least) for the construction period, and, significantly, happily does all the paperwork for you. What comes as part of the construction are the watchman’s room, a community hall, overhead water tanks, underground sumps, air-conditioners…

Housing Board flats on Rajamannar Sali and PT Rajan Salai were among the first to give their nod for the transformation. As other residents noticed the change and with builders pushing the sales pitch, residents of Sowbhagya, Sangeetha and Ashok Colonies followed suit. However, the going has not been smooth in some places. Petty quarrels, jealousies and egos have caused a lot of heartburn for some. Sad for colonies whose residents have bonded well.

In Sangeetha Colony, for example, one of the blocks was stopped from going ahead with demolition-construction by some of the other residents in the colony. They were against a compound wall being built as it would hinder their movement into and out of the colony on one side, so they said. The argument was of course specious. A case was filed and the matter still rests with the court, after more than three years. Today, ironically, the very people who opposed demolition-construction are in the forefront, talking to builders and finalizing plans for reconstruction of their own blocks.

There are also stories doing the rounds that extraneous forces are trying to stall progress in some cases in an effort to drive monetary bargains and make a fast buck. But these are unsubstantiated. Whatever it is, people who have seen KK Nagar grow from within the windows of their homes in these colonies have finally decided to move with the times. They know that, commercial aspects apart, living in an ill-maintained block is courting disaster. For builders, it’s like manna from heaven… things have never looked better.

Pictures show an old Housing Board building demolished and construction going apace; a typical signboard that builders display; another construction nearing completion; the new that has replaced the old; and some old Housing Board blocks on Rajamannar Salai awaiting the right opportunity.

Media has tasted the fruits of paid news: T.S. Krishnamurthy

2010-12-16T22:13:00.000-08:00

In the context of Radiatape, it may be interesting to know about former chief election commissioner T.S. Krishnamurthy's take on 'paid news'. Krishnamurthy, who retired after spending 36 years in the civil service, was addressing members of the Public Relations Society of India, Chennai Chapter some months ago. The first revenue officer from the Indian Revenue Service to become secretary to the Department of Company Affairs, Krishnamurthy was appointed election commissioner in 2000. Between February 2004 and May 2005, he was India's chief election commissioner.

Paid media is a dangerous phenomenon threatening the integrity of democracy in India, according to Krishnamurthy. According to him, some journalists are falling prey to temptation and making money on the sly. In a country which was once proud of its values, where leaders sacrificed their lives for freedom, it is an unfortunate occurrence, he says, and calls for speedy action to remedy the ills.

Paid media in the present political scenario would almost seem like a topical subject, having gained a lot of importance in recent times. “‘Paid news’ itself is a misnomer, because all news is paid for – by management, by shareholders of a company who own it, or subscribers to newspapers and television channels. Whatever it is, this particular expression has gathered momentum in recent times to mean it is paid for clandestinely, more to masquerade as news, and the person who pays the money may be visible or invisible. It is prevalent all over the world in a different garb,” said Krishnamurthy, giving the example of lobbyists abroad who lobby through media for their own particular interests.

Krishnamurthy made the point that in India, paid news had a special connotation because there was a ceiling on the expenditure of candidates. The objective was to ensure that a person who spent money on getting elected did not have undue advantage over an opponent who was not affluent, according to him. He added that to offer a level playing field, the Election Commission, under the Representation of People’s Act, had been prescribing ceilings. “The history of ceiling on expenditure has gone through rough weather; it has varied depending on inflationary conditions. The law provides many loopholes,” said Krishnamurthy, adding that there was no ceiling on the expenditure of political parties and expenditure incurred by associates and friends was not included in the ceiling.

To improve matters, to plug loopholes, the government brought about an amendment but it brought a fresh set of problems, according to Krishnamurthy. For instance, there was no limit on the number of party leaders who could canvass for a candidate. This was brought to the notice of the government, he added, and lauded the media for playing a significant role in bringing to light various ills plaguing the election system.

Krishnamurthy referred to the post-Independence period and to India’s Constitution – the longest written one – that was framed to nurture, protect and preserve democracy in the country. He spoke about India’s first general election, in 1951-52, when there were only newspapers and radio and candidates reached out to voters through posters and at public meetings. Krishnamurthy estimated that there were thousands of television channels across the country run by different cable operators. “It is just impossible to regulate all of them,” he said and referred to persons owning television channels being associated with political parties. “They were merrily carrying programmes that had subtle political advertising,” he said, recalling his experience. It was thus a clear infringement of the Election Commission rule that no political advertisement be carried on electronic media. He mentioned a Tamil channel telecasting a mythological story that had political overtones.

Krishnamurthy said that it was the duty of the district election officer to regulate advertisements of political parties by getting them screened and cleared by the local constituency committee. Such a proposal sent by the Election Commission to the Supreme Court was indeed approved by the latter and was supposed to be in operation. However, on the ground, it did not make a major difference because there were a number of serial programmes that could not be regulated, although to some extent it arrested the misuse of media.

In the 2004 elections, the aspect of ‘biased media’ became more pronounced, Krishnamurthy said. He pointed to a feature in India’s leading weekly magazine called Impact that consisted of paid news – paid for by the government or state. “The payment would be made after the elections. It acquired new heights in the 2009 elections and subsequent by-elections.”

Media was once considered the fourth pillar of democracy and 20-30 years ago journalists took pride in being independent or neutral, though there were occasional offenders, Krishnamurthy said and added that during the Emergency the media played a significant role and asserted its authority. Two or three newspapers even blanked out editorials to send a silent message to the government, that curbing the freedom of the press was not appreciated. Press freedom was thus “jealously and zealously” guarded by the journalist and the media. It was, according to former chief election commissioner, “the best period for media in India”.

“Over the years journalists got tempted by certain developments. Not only were journalists making money on the sly, there was also management and corporate lobbying. They started contacting political candidates. Payment was very often clandestinely made to individual journalists, or made in kind. The media has tasted the fruits of paid news,” said Krishnamurthy and gave the example of a Bombay-based newspaper that did not disclose information sought by the Election Commission. “They have started systematically exploiting the loopholes. It’s a pity that this development is undermining democracy. In a country which was so much proud of its values, where so many leaders sacrificed their lives for freedom, it is unfortunate. This has become popular because there has been a media boom, high growth of literacy, influence of print and electronic media, and the price for paid news is becoming more and more attractive”

At the time of conducting elections, the media plays a very important role in disseminating information about candidates, about political parties, manifestos and arrangements made for the conduct of elections. “The Code of Conduct for political parties (remains in force from the announcement of elections to the announcement of results) is not law but an agreed method to provide a level playing field, in particular to arrest the tendency of the ruling party to influence elections,” said Krishnamurthy.

In 2004, which was known as the E-election thanks to the use of electronic voting machines, all forms of media were used, every known method of communication was exploited, he said, and added that he had not quite seen the kind of political activity displayed in India, in countries he had visited – Mexico, Russia, the US and African countries. “Even in Zimbabwe, there is a restriction on the size of posters. We thought of bringing the rule here, but met with opposition,” he said. In Mexico, candidates reached out to voters through television and small posters. In the US, television played an important part, though not to the extent it did in India.

“Channels here are becoming a law unto themselves,” Krishnamurthy said, pointing to the kind of media biases – innocent biases (ignorance), informed biases (certain information is deliberately fed through journalists or government), and influenced biases (people in remote areas being easily swayed), which he termed “most dangerous”. Over a period, such misrepresentations began to take an important role and influenced the minds of voters. Even corporates were willing to support the trend, he said.

Wrapping up his speech, Krishnamurthy said paid media was a dangerous phenomenon threatening the integrity of democracy. “Media can play a constructive role during elections to enhance the quality of democracy in this country. Unfortunately, in the last few years under the influence of globalisation, media seems to have degenerated, undermining the quality of democracy,” he said.

Although one suggestion was to make paid news an electoral fraud, a misdemeanour, a legal provision might not be effective, Krishnamurthy said. “It will take five to ten years to arrive at some finality; especially in the case of paid media, it is very difficult to substantiate the truth. Very often the payment part is camouflaged, unless you can prove by circumstantial evidence.”

Krishnamurthy wondered whether it would be possible to provide more teeth to the Press Council. “Self-regulation is desirable for media but I find in this country self-regulation does not take off easily because each person has his defence. The sooner we take steps to stop this (paid news), the better it is for our democracy,” he said and urged a few voluntary organisations to support independent journalists with recognition for displaying integrity in presenting news. He named the government, the press and the public as stakeholders in the exercise to purge the system of corruption.

The onus is on the PR person to stick to the straight and narrow

2010-12-11T04:10:00.000-08:00

Corruption is as old as the hills, as old as the oldest profession in the world. No country is devoid of it; it varies in degrees. Unfortunately, India happens to be one of the top ten countries where corruption is the most rampant. Corruption in the media in India is also nothing new. It is not as though the Radia tapes have opened out a whole new world that was hitherto unknown. What it brought into the focus was the fact that even some of the superstars of media were dabbling in dangerous territory.

When I was heading the PR function of a large south Indian corporate group some years ago, I had conducted press conferences in all the metros. I had come across fake journalists, those who brandished fake visiting cards to gain entry and helped themselves to dinner and cocktails. At the time I wasn’t as mature as I’m today, and perhaps not as bold. So, many of these characters easily got away. It was much later that I made it a point to debar entry to press conferences of all suspicious ‘journos’. The sad part is that no PR and corporate communication person makes an effort to weed out the corrupt. For many, the more numbers at a conference the merrier. The management (of companies) in most cases is in the dark or has no clue.

I have had senior reporters asking me (especially in Bombay and Delhi) what was the gift they would receive if they attended. I made it a point not to dish out gift cheques or cash in envelopes. The PR agency suggested gift coupons. But I managed to override that and insist on gift hampers – products the company manufactured. I would tell my assistant to present the hamper to reporters as they left; most would accept, few would refuse. But the worst lot was the one that wanted the package to be sent home.

Radiatapes or not, this is the sort of malaise that all well-meaning PR practitioners and communicators must strive to eradicate. And this is what I emphasised to the participants at the CSIM-organised media workshop (refer previous blog). More than learning the nuances of good communication, it is imperative to work the right way – to be devoted to credibility, transparency and ethics. Nobody should be able to point a finger at you for a reason you cannot convincingly explain. At the end of the day, when there is credibility, there is goodwill and respect. And when you have all of that, you find communicating easier and more satisfying.

I also spoke about the cut-and-paste culture that is so much a part of writers and editors today. Plagiarism was just not on, I stressed, and said that despite computers and mobile phones, a good reporter must be prepared to do enough and more legwork. Sifting through an overload of information is difficult but what comes easy in life! There must also be a commitment to achieving perfection, to excellence, to give off your best.

Making words work is not enough for a journalist or editor. It has to be accompanied by a broad grasp of the ever-changing media scene, a thirst for acquiring knowledge, and a pledge to remain above board and earn the respect of all people. This was the overall second message I tried to hammer home.

Pictures show participants settling down before the commencement of the workshop, and the head of an NGO making a point.

To communicate effectively, understand first how media functions - it's a whole new world out there

2010-12-10T23:47:00.000-08:00

I’ve always loved the occasional lecture session with students. During my career in the insurance industry, I had volunteered for selection as a faculty member in the General Insurance Corporation’s vocational course, a pilot project that ran for about four years. The two years I spent teaching students various aspects of insurance were indeed very satisfying and it was with regret that I got back to the operational side.

When years ago I decided to enroll for a journalism course at the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, it was passion that drove me. I didn’t miss out on a single class and didn’t mind being the eldest in an intelligent and smart batch of 25. Those days, the Bhavan had stalwarts such as S. Muthiah and A. Padmanabhan who made it such a pleasure listening to lectures on reporting, writing and editing.

On of the friendships I forged then was with M.R. Krishnamurthy, who had retired from The Hindu and lectured us on editing. Perhaps because I was the senior-most or perhaps because I was friendly, I do not know, but MRK took a liking to me and would often accompany me to have coffee opposite – at the Karpagambal mess as it was called then. And over coffee we would talk about many things connected to journalism. He would call me home and his wife would treat me to hot, steaming filtered coffee and he would request me to accompany him to the bank sometimes. One of his sons, K. Venkataramanan had served as foreign correspondent in Sri Lanka for PTI before family circumstances, I assume, brought him back. He was my colleague at The Times of India. In later years, MRK was stricken by Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s and it was a sad ending.

I mention MRK here because probably without his initiative I might not have got into the academic side of journalism and media. In 1997, he said he had had enough of it at the Bhavan and would I take his classes the following year onwards. That was how my journalism lectures began. The Bhavan innings lasted more than five years and I went on to help set up the Photojournalism Academy at the Jai Gopal Garodia School in Anna Nagar and also SRM University’s post-graduate diploma course in journalism. At various institutes and forums, including summer camps conducted by the Mylapore Times, I have lectured to a motley group ranging from Plus-2 students to housewives and businessmen.

So, when Banu Marie, who heads the communication function at the Centre for Social Initiative and Management (CSIM), said she wanted me to inaugurate a two-day workshop at Asha Nivas for senior NGO staff and development workers on the aspect of Improving Media Relations for Development Communication I readily agreed. CSIM is a learning centre that provides training on concepts of social entrepreneurship among practitioners and individuals interested in social development. Its Centre for Media and Development Communication aims to train development professionals and social entrepreneurs on acquiring media and communication skills.

I decided to first take the participants along a broad sweep of events that had changed the media landscape. When I grew up my generation had the radio, the newspaper and lots of books for company. Yes, listening to the radio was not boring then – there was Vividh Bharati, and Ameen Sayani; there were Sushil Jhaveri, Surojit Sen and Lotika Ratnam who taught you what good diction was while reading out the news (Jhaveri’s narration was sublime poetry); there were Anand Setalwad and Suresh Saraiya who brought a different rhythm to cricket, and Ashish Ray who brought alive the happenings on the Calcutta football fields; and, of course, Melville D’Mello… who can forget him!

Youngsters like me learned communication from these people – just by listening to them. I remember waiting for the Bournvita Quiz Contest on radio on Sunday afternoons at 12.15, only to listen to Ameen Sayani. The only newspaper I read was The Statesman, highly respected then for its impartiality and editorial standards. Those days, I do not think there was PR or corporate communication as we know it today. And, therefore, the playing fields were cleaner and journalists were role models.

Today, Chennai has four English newspapers, Bangalore and Kolkata have six or seven, and Mumbai and Delhi have more than ten – newspapers from reputable stables. I wonder how many listen to the radio news in the cities; I don’t. Because the Jhaveris and Sens have all gone. FM channels rule; there may be more than 200 of them. And an equal number or more of television channels. We all know the kind of fare many of the channels deliver. On prime time, it’s virtual anarchy on the major channels with the presenters allowing the panelists to slug it out and enjoying being the brutal referee. They assume viewers enjoy the slugfest but the reality could well be different, especially with Radiagate.

The image of the PR person has always been tinged with negativity. Some are even called fixers or wheeler-dealers. We all know the reason; after all, there is no spark without a fire. Most PR practitioners continue to be yes-men or -women for their bosses and hardly have an identity of their own. There are very few who do, those who bring some sort of sobriety or balance to the conduct of affairs.

My first message to the participants: Have an understanding of how media functions today, the media mix as it were; unless communicators understand the dynamics of media, the way today’s journalists operate, it is difficult to succeed. Each media needs different treatment. A press release meant for the print media will not do for a television reporter, for example. Communicating online is totally different. Journalists, too, are no longer the journalists of old. Today, the reporter has to often double up as a sub-editor; the copy has to be clean and print-ready, the reporter is asked to take pictures or videos and not rely on the staff photographer. Stories are expected to be filed from the site – some reporters are given laptops and notebooks. Indeed, may of the reporters from The New York Times function this way. The Mint reporters in Delhi, too. Of course, not all newspapers function this way in India, but they will very soon.

Is it too much to expect the city administration to do its homework well?

2010-12-06T06:23:00.000-08:00

When it’s summer, you look forward to the rain. The first monsoon showers are always welcome but when it drizzles and pours, in interludes, almost non-stop for two days and more, you get depressed and weary. Perhaps if you were retired sort, had nothing much to do, loved the company of books, had grandchildren by your side, and lived on the second floor, life in Chennai during the monsoon may be livable.

But if you have work to do outside, have planned meetings with people, hate stepping on sticky muck on the road, and have no driver, you feel like a prisoner. Well, it’s house arrest really and you reach out for books you haven’t had time to read in long time, even as you make several visits to the kitchen and raid the storeroom, hoping to find a tasty morsel of food that’s been deliberately hidden from you. And then you suddenly realise that the larder isn’t well stocked at all, and indeed the stock of whatever you’ve managed to find is just not enough for a rainy day.

Well, I’ve been catching up on my reading, wishing at times that I could have had made it to the launch of B.G. Verghese’s book (First Draft: Witness to the Making of Modern India) a few days ago. It had not only rained that day; at 5.30pm, an hour before the programme, a part of the road on Eldams Road caved in, and you can imagine how chaotic the traffic might have been. It was. For two hours and more, vehicles inched their way forward.

Today, there is the launch of Ramachandra Guha’s book (Makers of Modern India), but with the roads as they are and after seeing pictures on television of areas in Egmore and Nungambakkam flooded, I just didn’t have the gumption to drive all the way from KK Nagar. Coordinators of Namma Arcot Road: please note. It might not be a bad idea to get Guha some day to talk at Hotel Green Park.

About three weeks ago, I had sent Sanjay Pinto (NDTV-Hindu’s executive editor) an email, stating how terrible the condition of many roads in KK Nagar were (you will find pictures on one of my earlier blogs). Sanjay quickly got his reporter to do the story, which was telecast during news hour through the following day. The reporter had got the local councilor to respond and he assured that dug-up portions would be leveled and sore sights would disappear once Corporation workers saw sunny days.

Of course, several sunny days came and went after that telecast. Work at one end of Alagiriswamy Salai did begin, but at the end of it all, the area continued to look as if it had been shelled. Even on a sunny day it took courage to drive over the ‘leveled’ area, but you had little choice. You felt like you were in a boat, bobbing up and down. Now, with incessant rain, and the streets leading to the spot waterlogged, I’ve not dared to venture to have a look. The unfinished work, or shoddy work, as well as the pathetic condition of many roads in the area has only whetted my appetite to take more pictures, perhaps tomorrow. There are many calls I received today - from Perambur, Velachery, Egmore, Purasawalkam. Friends and frelatives shared similar stories.

Monsoon arrives every year. There are floods every year. And it’s the same story (flooded streets, marooned houses, waterlogged homes) each time. Of course humankind cannot fight against the vagaries of the weather, but surely the administration of a city (which chronicler S. Muthiah repeatedly stresses is “the first city of modern India”) must set the bar higher and ensure that flooding does not occur, that roads can be used without the fear of falling in dirty water or drowning, that clogged drains are thoroughly cleaned, and that when the rain comes life in the city can go on as usual. When will our city administrations change and become proactive, rather than responding to news stories in mainline dailies or on popular TV channels? Surely, isn’t there greater satisfaction in accomplishing something for the welfare of the people than in being hauled up and then tying to make up for negligence and indifference?

"Pathetic" Barkha performance, says N. Ram, calls for the media ethics bar to be raised higher

2010-12-01T22:33:00.000-08:00

Forget about the Radiagate, it may be easily be said. But for all well-meaning journalists in India, Open Magazine’s expose, what it calls the X-Tapes, has not only come as a rude shock, it is also a defining moment, a turning point in a profession that many within and without consider almost sacrosanct. So, change must come, change for the better, discarding all the rotten apples and the muck that has come to stay. Will it be possible at all, is the larger question.

There is no doubt that with media gaining an unsavoury hue in recent weeks, the focus by editorial heads, for the short-term at least, will be on cleaning the stables although several horses may have already bolted. Another pertinent question is whether the clean-up operations will continue for long and whether after Radiagate has moved from the front pages of newspapers, some journalists will be tempted again by lure of proximity of power and perhaps money and other attractions to “string a source along”… to no actual good as we have all seen.

If any editor hit the bull’s eye in post-Radiagate discussions, it was N. Ram, editor-in-chief of The Hindu. Both in Karan Thapar’s programme on CNN-IBN and on a late night programme yesterday hosted by Rahul of Headlines Today, Ram was categorical. He called Barkha Dutt’s performance on NDTV’s extraordinary programme, or defence of her position if you will, “pathetic”. Few will disagree with him. For, Barkha chose to ride the high horse and had just no intention of admitting her mistake, going only so far as to say it was a “learning experience”. The tone and tenor of her voice and what appeared as almost contempt for Manu Joeseph and the Open Magazine story, deprived Barkha of an opportunity to regain people’s hearts. We still remember her reporting from Kargil, don’t we? But that was quite another Barkha, another time.

On Headlines Today, Vir Sanghvii, much senior to her, was calm and composed. He adopted a sober tone, seemed humbled by the experience, did not argue with the moderator, and although did not admit he had done something terribly wrong, did seek an apology from viewers, and readers of his column, if they felt he had strayed. Ram felt the explanations (Barkha’s included) were all a “cover-up”.

The difference between the two telecasts couldn’t have been starker. While Barkha hardly allowed anybody to speak, the moderator, Sonia Varma, never gained control. You probably couldn’t blame her… she is after all junior to Barkha in the NDTV pecking order. What was more surprising was that none of the panelists (Dilip Padgaonkar and Swapan Dasgupta), save Sanjay Baru in patches, was able to pin Barkha down.

The Headlines Today discussion was far more refined. Nobody spoke out of turn. It was clear that M.J. Akbar and Prabhu Chawla had a lot of respect for Ram. And no wonder. Because Ram has been clear in his stance fright from the beginning. On the Karan Thapar show and last night, he stressed that were the tainted journalists employed by the BBC, The Guardian or The New York Times, they would have lost their jobs. That, I presume, means that The Hindu, too, would not or will not tolerate such behaviour. Why can’t we set the bar higher, Ram asked. He went on further to emphasise that all journalists must be governed by a code of ethics, or by codified rules. Therefore, anyone trespassing the line has no place in the profession.

Unless such steps are taken, unless there is a continuing debate among senior editors, publishers and those who matter about journalistic ethics and what constitutes right and wrong, unless mechanisms are put in place to redress reader’s or viewer’s grievances and to admit and correct mistakes, not by one or two newspapers, but by the newspaper publishing and Indian television world in general, I do not see much hope. Unless corrective steps are taken earnestly, once the Radia Tapes pass into history, you may still have a journalist willing to plant a story for a price.

Forget the Radia tapes, there's so much more to life...

2010-11-30T04:32:00.000-08:00

It’s sad to know how corrupt our countrymen and women have become, sad to learn that the sleaze factor exists almost everywhere (it’s hard to find an institution not tainted by it), sad to realise that people you look up to or consider credible are not really above board, and sad to find no way to get out of the morass of corruption and unethical practices that is slowly drawing in even the honourable men and women. However, in the midst of all the gloom, there are still several things to cheer about. And one source that provides a balm or more than adequate recompense for what we have lost is Nature.

I live in an old colony built by the Tamil Nadu Housing Board, built during the Emergency. So, the buildings are made of sterner stuff and have withstood the ravages of time admirably well. Nowadays, of course, there is talk among residents in some blocks of getting builders to demolish the buildings and erect new ones. The attraction is not only a new and larger house, you get money, and also rent for the period you have to vacate and stay elsewhere. Many old buildings in the Mambalam-KK Nagar area have vanished and new apartment blocks have risen in their place. I somehow dread the thought of buildings in my colony being knocked down. That would seem absurd, judging by the returns. Forget about sentiment, what’s wrong with you, is what most people will tell me.

However, the reason is not really sentiment. It’s Nature. Inside the sprawling colony, especially in the rear part, are numerous trees and plants of all shapes and sizes. The mango, neem, gulmohar, banyan, laburnum, tamarind and champak trees (there’s one teak tree as well) not only provide shade and quiet but they are also home to a wholly different world that lives in its branches, stems and leaves. Among birds, there’s a variety – crows, ravens, woodpeckers, pheasants, mynahs and cuckoos. On a sunny day, you see butterflies flitting in and out of plants, red ants, black ants, snails, leeches… There’s even a monkey who made the treetops his abode for a while, but left when a few ‘I-know-it-all’ residents frightened him away.

The squirrels are among the friendliest lot. They scurry around for scraps of food, build nests, chase one another on the ground and on branches, and squeak the loudest. A few stray dogs and cats have also made the colony home. They lead quiet lives and don’t intrude into people’s lives. They are up for adoption; for example, I’ve adopted three dogs, one of whom accompanied me to the medical store yesterday. A few years ago, there were quite a few mongooses and their screeches would drown all other sound and jerk you up to attention. Perhaps there were snakes too then.

If you care to observe their world closely, the animal world that is, you will be surprised to find how they all live in harmony. Not perfect harmony, there are the usual fights and making-ups, there are territories that must be respected or won and lost, there are rules about respect for the elders, even how to welcome guests or orphans… You are not likely to find corruption and unethical practices here. Yes, might is right, and the law of Nature and the jungle, if you like, prevails, but despite that, there is an observance of natural law, there is credibility to occurrences, and there are lessons to be learnt.

Indeed, there’s so much you can learn from Nature. The emotional high you get from it is exceptional; perhaps only love (in its pure, unadulterated, unconditional form) can equal such a thrill. There’s no place for the Radia tapes and rotten politics in the world of Nature. Sometimes, it’s such a relief knowing there’s so much more to life than even newspapers, television and headlines.

The picture shows a squirrel and a crow sharing rice grains, just outside my bedroom window.