The Diwali Party - 11th Oct 2009, Ettimadai Village

A teacher before she/he goes into the class knows how to behave with the students. A kindergarten teacher will talk in slow and lyrical manner so as to connect to her twinkle-eyed, innocent audience. A primary teacher will know that she has to speak in a manner that is genuine but at times childish. A secondary teacher will know that her students probably know certain things that she does not and will speak with certain amount of tact and gravity. All this comes out of the way in which the students react as per their age. Now put all of these different kinds of students into one single room or under the same tree and what you elicit out of the teacher is a range of emotions sliding over the EQ scale from 1 to 10 at rapid pace.

Each one of the volunteers of the ‘Outreach’ program has to display exemplary range of emotions and skill to tackle, tame, cajole, coax and pacify the kids of the Ettimadai village. There are kids who are 2 years old to those who are 17 years old in the motley crowd that gathers under the village tree each Saturday/Sunday for interacting with the students of Amrita. Every weekend its about a few lessons, a few poems, a few giggles, a few nudges and pokes, a few mischiefs, a few fights and so on. But Diwali is the time when it is all of these without THE BOOKS. Diwali celebration for Outreach is like the one big occasion when all the kids get to spend a full day singing, dancing, playing, shouting and basically having fun with the students and ex-students of Amrita.

The Diwali Party as we all call it is after all dedicated to the child in all of us. We all rise up to the levels of these children and try and enjoy each and every moment of the day with them. They are the protagonists of the elaborate script that is carefully crafted each year by Shobana madam and her loyal bunch of students/friends. The stage was set this time around with lots of gift being bought for the kids to be given as prizes for various events. Most of the Amritians came in with something or the other for the kids, like Pencil boxes, soaps, story books, pencils & stationary, etc . The faculty quarters of DG & Shobana madam turned out to be a common meeting point where all these tired souls gathered at the end of a hard day’s shopping in the hot streets of Coimbatore. The coffee at the dgshobs’ residence did wonders in energizing many a tired limbs. The uncertain excitement of the next day was keeping everyone on the tenterhooks anyways.

Some kids gleefully accepted a free ride in Bala sir’s car on their way to Amrita Vidyalayam – the venue. The presence of Vidyashankar meant that we need not have to worry about keeping the children entertained. I do not know if the kids understand what devotion/spirituality/religion is, but what I do know is that the kids observe the lighting of the lamp, the prayer, the somber poses of the adults around and consciously contract their movements themselves. It’s always a fascinating experience watching the children place their hands over their folded legs and prop up their heads, watching with open mouths, the performance of a singer who can hits the right notes with the young audience. As long as Vidhya holds stage, it’s a relaxing time for all of the rest. But as soon as the volunteers know that he is about to finish, a sense of panic overcomes and all of them start fidgeting to find out what next to keep the little ones occupied. If there is a slightest lapse in the entertainment, suddenly you will find dozens of children wanting to answer nature’s call at the same time or dipping their hands into the water-jug. It’s a crisis we all could do well without and that’s when there’s a Tarzanesque shout from the back of the audience and you find the lean frame of Udhyakumar making way towards the midst of the children, shouting out instructions to keep the children in their seats and telling them of what to do and what not to do. The ever-jovial Venkatesh then goes to the stage and in his inimitable style of speaking Tamil, soon takes over as the MC of the occasion and although I don’t understand much of Tamil, I still know that he connects to the audience. And boy, he and Vidhya then start eliciting responses from the kids.

Soon there is a conversation happening between the whole bunch and the volunteers, and this inspires others on the fringes to also shed their inhibitions as was evident when Banerjee sir, brought himself to the front and rendered a Bengali children’s song, replete with funny words and actions. The presence of Satwa, the group of young men from Chennai who had come down to the village with an alumni of ASB, Sandeep, made a lot of difference to this year’s Diwali party. They soon took over the proceedings and divided the children as per their various age groups and organized small games for them. Soon you had the huge hall filled with laughter and mirth with small groups of children spread across the hall playing various games. Some of the games were super fun to watch, like the one where a balloon is tied to the legs of the kids and whoever manages to keep her/his balloon from being burst by the rest is the winner. We all had a riot watching them go after each other with infectious energy.

Each of us has our own favourites among the kids. Some kids remember you and come over to you and ask you “How are you Anna? Why are not coming these day? You in Bombay?”. One of the girls came up to me and asked, “Anna, you remember me?”. I did remember her from last year, but I had forgotten her name. “I do”, I said, “Savitri, right?” “Nooooo Annnaaaa,” she said with her hand on her head, “it’s Savitha, not Saaaavitra”. I could not help but burst out laughing. This got her and her friends laughing and making fun of how forgetful I was. These kids make fun of us in such innocent ways. Then there are kids whom you think of as reticent and serious types. They will not look at you or return your gaze. They will not smile at you or connect to you in any sense. You start thinking of them as not so friendly types. But then suddenly they see some other volunteer and jump out of their seats and the next thing you know, they are climbing on top of that person, laughing and shouting and blabbering with the volunteer. Amazing! you stand there dumbstruck.

All around we could see hugs and kisses, especially the girls in the volunteer crowd were so motherly in their affection that they were showering their love on the little boys and girls. We guys, the usual reticent lot in such emotions, kept ourselves to doing the hard labour part of going to the ground, clearing the field, drawing the lines for sports and arranging the vessels etc. Each of us has a way of behaving when with kids. I remember the last year when there was no electricity for the whole day at the Diwali party and all the kids were sweating it out and poor Vidhyashankar had to sing almost 50 songs just to keep the entertainment going. There was this 2 year old child who found her way into my lap and then spent the whole afternoon there. When you feel a child’s heart beat next to your own and when her tiny fingers hold on to the back of your neck like her life depended on that ‘hold’, even if you feel tired, hungry, thirsty and claustrophobic, you still do not want to move a muscle for the fear of waking up the little one catching up on some well-deserved sleep after the daylong exertions. This time around there was less of physical exertion than last year and also the overheads fans helped. I was searching for the same child in the crowd, hoping that she might want to come over and sleep on me again. But alas, she has grown big. So she and her friends didn’t need to rest themselves on our laps or shoulders.

The lunch was efficiently taken care of under the expert guidance of Jhansi madam. These kids are such fast eaters, my god! By the time you just stretch you back after finishing one round of serving, they are already clamoring for more biryani or more sambar or more rice. They attack the food with such infectious enthusiasm that you feel more hungry seeing them enjoy the food, while you got to wait for all of them to finish.  The delightful part is when these kids come and talk to you when you are eating, “Anna why are you eating so less?”, “Akka why are not eating that piece of tomato?”, “Anna why are you eating so many papads?”, “Akka why are you not folding your legs properly?”. It’s hard not to notice how much these kids have absorbed from their interactions with the outreach crowd. They are more conscious of what is cleanliness, hygiene, health etc. I remember three years back, they used to be shabbily dressed and not very aware of hygiene. But now we all can see a great deal of improvement in the way they conduct and carry themselves. This is what motivates the outreach crowd to put more efforts into the cause with great deal of enthusiasm.

The fun and the games continued inside for the little kids, and the sports were for the bigger boys and girls. There was the usual figure of Anand and Inba, conducting the outdoor sports with efficient charm. Not surprisingly the girls showed more enthusiasm and competitive spirit in even this, putting some of the boys to shame, I must admit.

At last the most awaited part of the day, the prize distribution ceremony began. It took a huge amount of effort on the part of all the volunteers to sort out the goodies and make sure that the kids got everything. The prizes were distributed by Sandeep first up and he did it with panache, shaking hands and whispering a word of encouragement to each one who came up. Shobana madam, Jhansi madam, Venkatesh, Udhay were constantly controlling the crowd with amazing skill. Soon each and every child was holding on to a bag full of goodies and the icing on the cake was the fire-crackers that Shakti always brings to the party. The village would have reverberated that night with the sound and the light of the crackers that were distributed to the children.


Diwali party is also a chance to come back to college, catch up with your batch mates, juniors and seniors as well. This time around there was Sandeep from 2005 batch, Anirudh from 2006, Vidhya, Shiva, Saurabh and myself from 2007 batch, Shakti, Venky, Navneet, Amardeep, Mihir, Davison from 2008 batch, Udhay and his friends from 2009 batch and Jitu & his friends from the current batch. Apart from this the usual pioneers like Inba, Anand, Sreeja, Radhika and the rest of the gang from various departments of Amrita were there too. It’s always one big party with all us together. Not to mention the final ‘chai’ session in the canteen for the whole gang. I and DG always look forward to this more than anything else.

When things are wrapped up, what one is left with is the feeling of ‘niceness’. Everyone feels nice after the day is over. When the kids’ faces light up with joy, when they climb on top of you, when one allows them to compete and show their skill, when one gives them an occasion to discover facets of their personality unknown to them, when one takes them out of their usual routine and see a different world – that’s when you find yourself feeling something different and nice. A feeling that I am yet to put a name to. Ask any of the volunteers what makes them come back again and again to celebrate Diwali with the kids and they might not be able to tell you exactly – why. Some things are better left unsaid and unexplored. And maybe this is one of them.

Watch 'em

The Day after Diwali, our mail stood at our door in the morning and started crying. She said that her boy had lost his arm while bursting firecrackers the previous day. He had lost his arm and there was nothing that the Doctors could do about it. I was shocked on seeing her at my door instead of being in the hospital and then some sense prevailed and we managed to give her some money and then she left.

Thereafter I and saurabh were just discussing on how a freak accident cost the boy his arm and a fair shot at life. He blamed the parents for having not taken care of the boy. But I didn't agree with him. These kids are brought up in a different environment from people like us. We all had privileged upbringing with parents spending enough time with us, and taking care of us. But that is not the case with these families. There is constant pressure on them. The mother is either working in some house as a maid full day or comes back home to cook more food and complete the household chores. She rarely gets any time when she is not busy. Same is the case with the men. Most of them are working most of the times and are outside the house.

In such an environment, its really difficult to keep a constant tab on your children. They usually roam about the streets, loiter around with friends and in general waste their time. the parents do not have the education to know that their kids needs to be taught something more than what they might be learning in the government school. They would be too hard pressed making two ends meet, to pay attention to supposedly ‘minor’ details like ‘child upbringing’. So how would they be able to take care of the boy when he is bursting some fire cracker in some corner of the street?
At the same time, how a child turns out to be in her/his behavior pattern, has a lot to do with what the child experiences every day at home. That’s true, I agree. Children copy and model their behavior on how the adults surrounding them behave. But still, I somehow find it hard to blame the parents for their kids going wrong.

What would I have done if I were faced with poverty, meager income, work pressures and bickering family members? I would also busy myself doing things to keep my family alive, rather than see what my kid is watching or doing in the streets. No, it just doesn’t sink in… I cannot blame the maid and call her as careless. She had more things to worry about at that point of time. She didn’t know that her kid would end up like this while playing… …. Am still confused…

Creed - Full Circle

I am just waiting for Creed's reunion and their first release called "Full Circle"

I love their work especially 'With arms wide open' and 'One last breath'. Such acts must continue with their good work... and so am excited... wow.... with arms wide open !!!

Well I just heard the news today
It seems my life is going to change
I closed my eyes, begin to pray
Then tears of joy stream down my face

With arms wide open
Under the sunlight
Welcome to this place
I'll show you everything
With arms wide open
With arms wide open

Well I don't know if I'm ready
To be the man I have to be
I'll take a breath, I'll take her by my side
We stand in awe, we've created life

Woke up !

Woke up to Friday morning with the first show of Wake UP Sid in Bangalore. Good movie and even better are the songs. Am Buying the CD although the songs are already downloaded (pirated). Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy are true to their style of not having any style. They can make just about any music, any sound they feel that goes with the movie's soul. Lovely... listening to it as am typing this.

Go catch the movie if you want a nice feel good movie. My friday was made after this movie... especially the songs... well placed and well paced...."Life is crazy" !!

When love took a train heading south !!!

So near that she could smell him, maybe even touch him. But all that she longed for was maybe a kind look or a small word. But he wouldn’t. Not his fault, she knew but how could she not feel let down.

A bright pink saree covering every inch of her slim body. Even her hair parting was adorned with the bright pink dash of ‘sindoor’ that Indian women apply on their foreheads. A typical woman from the hindi heartlands of central/northern India. She walked up the footpath and came up to him. Her gait gingery but confident, brought her to him, so close and yet he didn’t twitch. A man can never keep himself from feeling the presence of a woman near him. She is destined to make him acutely aware of her presence, so much that even the most docile of women can assume an imposing presence. This moment lasts for only a few seconds, before everything’s back to normal. But here, he did not even twitch. She was so close to him and by no means was she unattractive. A chiseled face, spotlessly clean skin, tall and poised she stood there in the narrow gap of the footpath, almost smelling the back of his neck with the pallu of her saree pulled across half of her face. And no sign of acknowledgement from him. He continued pulling out the puris, scooping the masala, filling each puri with the masala and dipping the puris in the tamarind water – serving the best pani-puris of Bangalore.

A man in pursuit of excellence in the humble task of making pani-puris for a living – a repetitive, highly energy sapping exercise that calls for high levels of concentration especially when you have multiple customers and counts to keep on the puris that you have served out. The customers can be quite irritating and irrational – some want it sweet, some spicy, some salty, some dry, some slow, some fast, some with onions, some without, - all at the same time. He took pains not only to make it the tastiest chat in the city, but also to set an example in customer service by being polite and humble with his customers. Every new customer was immediately acknowledged and given a sample to taste, mindlful of the fact that each character in his customer list has a different taste, a unique craving. He was respectful to elders & women ( who come in plenty ), polite & loving to children. Everyone went off feeling like a king or a queen from his stall, except she.

There was something in her hand, a vessel. She stood there for whole of 5 minutes with that vessel, waiting for him. She stands there and catches my eye. She turns away and looks at the road. Then she looks back at him and sees his busy back turned towards her and lets out a sigh – the sigh accentuated by the heaviness of the pink colour. Her body does not move but her eyes are a riot of emotions ranging from longing, impatience, love, desire, loneliness, irritation and humiliation. She is desperately waiting for him to acknowledge her presence, have a kind word, maybe even a slight touch of his hand while handing over the vessel. Was that asking for too much? He meanwhile, I feel knows that she is there but is reluctant to let go of his emotions. Only a highly emotional man can hold back his emotions. And I could feel him holding back. He was not looking up, constantly shifting his gaze from the puri to the masala, to the water and to the customer’s plate. He looked into the eyes of the customer, but would not even glance at her while she stood there waiting for that one ‘moment’.

At last he finishes up with me and suddenly there is a slight turn of his body and he whips his hands and pulls out the vessel from her hands, keeps it in his stall and continues preparing for another customer who has by that time barked out his demands. She stands there stunned at losing her only chance of maybe a look or a touch. She looks at me, maybe aware that I am drilling through her mind to know how she feels and suddenly her look hardens. She hides her emotional upheaval and suddenly her face assumes a shield like demeanor that is supposed to tell the world that nothing was amiss there. But little did she know that I had been witness to a critical moment of her life that gave me an insight into a space highly personal.

She stood there for some more seconds, hoping to atleast hear him bark out some orders to her…. In this insufficient state, even a harsh command would have sufficed to calm her jittery nerves that were acting up in a way only a newly wed’s can … maybe due to unfulfilled desires? I am not quite sure. But she made her way slowly back from where he was and started walking away, this time less confident and but more determined. Her determination to hold herself, took her to a distance of about 8 feet, before she stopped again. I was intently watching at this hindi-movie like situation. She turned back with the saree pallu in between her gleaming white teeth. Her kohl-lined eyes turning into one direction for the last time before she made her way out. And again she was met with the same lean, busy back of her husband. Her glance fell on me again and I stood frozen there, fearing if I had unwittingly intruded into her space but this time she did not try to hide her pain. Her face and eyes, her high cheek bone, her lips – all a clear reflection of her anguish at being not recognized as a presence in her husband’s life. She slowly turned and I realized that I was looking at her, shaking my head, with a sad smile , maybe giving her a comfort that “its allright bhabhiji, he is just busy in his work”!

It’s an everyday event in the lives of all the migrant workers across the country. They come to cities, sometimes with their families and live in inhuman conditions where there is little time for two people to spend time with each other to even start any love. The walls of the city close in too soon, the air suffocates them too soon, the ceiling comes down too soon, the friends and family are back too soon, the work starts too soon and nevers seems to end that soon, the child is born too soon and the money starts running out too soon, the body starts ageing too soon and the life seems to pass away too soon…. Everything happens just a bit ‘too soon’

Blissfully Mad !!!

Woooowwwww !!!!! :-)

Hold my own

Sometimes I feel that it is due to the respect that I have for people older than me, that keeps me from countering their points, statements and arguments. And this acts as a detrimental factor in me losing my credibility. I have this innate habit of showing respect to people.... I keep thinking of them as elders and hence I should not speak offensively or even aggressivel or even assertively to them. This is dis-respect to them, I feel. And sometimes they roll over me and fry me and I stand there - a meek spectator. This frustruating aspect of my irritating personality has permeated into my ability to deal with peers or even younger people now. I have lost my ability to hold my own... even with myself.