Swarathma - the fourth block walkway show

When the eager journalist lady with the mic asked "what do you think about the Interactive window concept?"; "It is good and we have come to see Swarathma play" seemed a polite reply - but then I guess she expected me to say "awesome, brilliant, rocking, am so excited" & spring up and yell, which I didn't, and that was all she asked. The show was still 10 min away.

It was a super Saturday of sorts. Kung Fu Panda 2 & Swarathma. Back to back. Though"interactive window" reminded me of a summer evening at Amsterdam; we would not go there now - family channel and all, you see.

Ok no distractions. Back to music. Jayanagar fourth block. Nokia store. Hearing a band play facing the street, standing where mannequins would be on a cloth store, for the crowd to watch from the walkway. N's third Swarathma show in 8 months and this time at the front row on a railing.

A few worthy notes:

1. Brilliant concept and as always a great show (The lady with the mic had left by then): Music that set a little girl sitting by the railing humming & 3 young adults from a poorer neighbourhood who had paused on their way back home from a rag picking session dancing. It had passengers at the buses with their mouths open as the drivers deliberately slowed down & a supercilious high heel who nosed past came back sensing the energy of the place. The chords & beats cut through.
2. It was time for the second song - Tibet- and a couple of new instruments were picked up. Two of three young adults had found stuff fascinating by then. "Dei, peeppi paaredaaa", the one with the ruddier betel tongue pointed to the other. Vasu had started playing a wooden whistle or was it a micro flute? Doesn't matter. It was peeppee alright. That window showed different things to different people.
3. Around the same time, N pulled my ear closer to her. "I have a secret to tell you. That maama is wearing blue socks along with red and green shoes. Why?" She giggled. The lead singer continued his rendition unaware.
4. Yesu, Allah aur Krishna had started. There was a request made ahead to put the hands up in the air as in a bhajan recital. Everybody did. After 2 minutes, there was only 1 pair of arms up in the air - the third young adult. The society chose to be propah and tighten its muscles while the under belly hardly had any inhibitions. It danced - without concerns of the need to look good. Such joy
5. For Topiwale, the Nehru caps came out. Orange, pink, green and a distinct colour that sat inclined on Nayak's head. One topi stood out. On the head of a tabla guru who teaches the instrument over skype to beginners - A red polka dotted one, a la Monroe - an Amsterdam distraction once again.

It was time to leave.

Sunset Bay, Mysore

5 reasons to go to Sunset Bay

Blue waters
“Take a turn and you shall see the waters – just follow the road till you….” Nikesh had told us. Interestingly the water comes to view without an announcement – not even a hush. Once you leave the Bangalore-Mysore highway, the landscape does get more and more rustic – haystacks, houses with tethered work-oxen and cows, village schools with huge play grounds – like the way schools are meant to be. But nothing really prepares you for kilometers of water in front of you. No sea-like waves, but a calm, serene sheet of water; what is a part of the Krishna Raja Sagar dam. On whose edges is where Nikesh hosts friends and friends of friends on his farm – plainly called the Sunset Bay.
One really doesn’t get to see where the waters end – but we are told that it is over 40 kms away. What was a collection of villages – that got completely covered with water, with the residents relocated elsewhere – before the Maharaja took the decision to build the dam.
A lone fisherman - the only speck in the horizon - on a coracle on an early morning & a bunch of migrant geese towards evening– that is all that would come between you and that line where the water meets the sky far away –if you sat under that big tree on the banks all day.
The banks aren’t sandy, but pebbly – with almost all of those pebbles getting submerged at least once a year when water comes up to the boundary of the farm on a good monsoon. One doesn’t miss the sand much; as the water has such a calming effect on you – as long as you get to see it.

Stars at night
Once the sun is down – you wouldn’t know about this huge expanse next door – unless some one told you. No waves, no splashes, no ships as red dots in the horizon or calls of men coming back home with the catch of the day. It is just still silence – as you sit outside the little dining hall – except for the crackling of the bon-fire. Out there, once sees a sky as you did many years ago – with a thousand times the stars one gets to see at the city. Orion or the Ursa Major had never faded away – it felt like spotting a couple of long lost friends from a junior school black and white photograph.
As the embers flickered further, you either tilt your chair and spirits in the direction of what would be a blue expanse next morning or strum a little melody or just look up and make that connection – till you walk up to your rooms.

Tree houses
One would walk up literally – if one chose to stay at the few private tree houses. The one at the edge of the farm opens out nicely into the waters. They aren’t the rope ladders that you pull up once you got to the door – but ones that anyone steady on their feet can climb up. One of the reasons we chose not to take them. Nandita was just getting on her feet the first time and the second time she had just discovered that she could run – and she always kept us on our toes. If you have kids under the age of 5, go for one of the 4 rooms on the ground.

Minimalism
There isn’t much to tell the 4 rooms from one another except for the replicas of Florentine paintings at its walls. When the outsides offered so much – it is best to keep the insides minimal. Exactly so, the walls themselves were interestingly ‘painted’ with tender jute cloth stretched into its place very well by little nails. The red-oxide floor felt nice and natural on your feet. The open wooden wardrobes and the skylights at the clean sparkling toilets were functional and just that.
The dining hall had a round table, a low table and some chairs. The shack with a view to the ‘bay’ just outside the dining hall – had a wooden table and sturdy benches on either side. The most ornate object in the entire acreage being an eight foot tall pendulum clock in one of the rooms – which I didn’t observe enough if it ticked or tocked. It was never there in the rooms Nikesh had hosted us in.

Host with a personality
Just to put some pictures against the word “host” here – we aren’t talking a pretty, articulate lady at the reception or a gloved bell boy to pick up your bags to your room. It is about a vintage red pick-up van, with a ‘Lawrence’ banner stuck at the rear window - that would meet you at an interim point and guide you to the location. It is about John Denver, Clapton or the Dire Straits in a Kenwood system – again in a minimal gray. It is about asking for a personal reference the first time you would call. It is about asking the kind of food one liked before you started from home.

Chevayoor - Part I

Discounting all the hostel rooms and extended hotel stints, I have had 11 temporary addresses so far. But in all the forms I have filled up offline and online, when I write in "Chevayoor 673017" against "Permanent address", there is a ring to it. [Try it, 6-7-3-0-1-7]

A resonance of home.

The boundaries of home expanded with time though. For a good part of primary school; the sun rose at Kumar Nagar colony and set at M R Uncle's house at the west end of my colony. There wasnt a need to be outside, till one day the school decided to take me to Cheveyoor Chandra Talkies to see Oppol - a melodramatic kerchief soaker - as Malayalam movies were at that time. As I walked, fingers on lips, in one straight line with may be forty other blue-and-white souls, Monish told me that we were approaching the real, the real Chevayur. We crossed school, another house that had swan statues in their front yard, Anil George's house, the post-office (I walked once with the postman while he was on duty on his entire route - that for later in this page), THE (THE) Chevayoor bus stop to reach an angaadi not as big as Thondayaad. "You go straight in that road and take a left, that is my house", Mohnish said. I dont remember the movie any significantly better than its being a brother-sister tale pictured in black and white.
Chevayoor expanded in my mind. My map of the world had stretched a kilometer more to the East.

Towards the west was Thondayad and town - westward was standard direction to buy everything and go everywhere. Hasbi to get down at MCC bank and then on to the Railway station; Sindhu, KBT to get to Manaanchira; Kiran to take the Kuthiravattam route or those marauding line buses for some excitement and to get to the town in 5 minutes.

Just to clarify the 5 minute thing; for those who don't know the 2sq km called Chevayoor. It was a good 5 kilometers from the city center. With Thondayad on one end and Chevayoor angaadi at the other, there were just three commercial entities in between - Suresh-ettan's pettikkada, Abhilash's shop opposite Presentation and a small hotel next to it. That meant the nearest vegetable shop was almost a kilometer down hill at Thondayad - and on very hot summer days, or if there was a cricket match on the radio - the fastest way to get home after a quick Saturday vegetable shopping was to take a bus to Thondayad. But bus conductors had a problem with it - they objected to anyone taking a bus ride to the next stop.

Chevayoor being two stops away and at a 40 paisa fare; was a more friendly option - and thus I established commercial linkages with the angaadi. Mohan das-ettan for vegatables; and SS - stores for provisions (groceries as they call in America). This must have been 1984 (yes when Big Brother was watching all over the world; as per the Americans); when one day Sr Rose Mary came to see my neighbour doctor uncle in our colony and visited home only to be told that her student is out vegetable shopping at the age of eight. She surely made a passing mention in class the next day; in jest more than anything. Coming back to Mohan-ettan and SS-stores, nothing has changed over the last 24 years. Exactly the same number of grey hairs, same helping staff, the same place for rice, jaggery, chandan thiri, the same cash counter with Nutrine and Big Fun bubble gum. The son sits in place of the father, some times, except that - everything else seemed to disregard time as an X-axis.

Mohan das-ettan's vegatable shop is the first one on the right side as you approach Chevayoor angadi from Presentation schools side - just next to a barber shop. It never overflowed with vegetables like the ones in Kovoor or the ones diagonally opposite across the junction. It had 80% of what was there in the list to buy for home. All his cows at home, made his home the local milk distribution hub to his neighbourhood - sometimes I have felt he was doing the vegetable business as a servcice to humanity than anything else. What he did offer friends and loyal customers was mind blowing "Lime soda - salted". Even the best of barmen in the best of restaurants I have been to, did not open the soda bottle like he did. One of his huge circle of friends was Aali-kka; the local post man, and one day I would make an important journey of discovering my neighbourhood through his shoes. That is for later.

Abdul Razack K T

Some are destined to walk the same path for 12 years; to the extent of being at the same place at the same time. The only difference was Razack decided to run all along and I walked. I have a small medal at home, which says "Winner - running race - LKG". This was my second prize ever and have preserved it; and for those same reasons I remember remnants of the event in itself. All I know is I came first in the race. But in hindsight, am sure there was another boy who ran the race - Razack. I faint when I think that I actually beat him in a running race. But that was to be the very last time. He won every other race that I participated or witnessed for the next 12 years I was to see him in action.
Then there was a new event once in sports day; "cricket ball throw". I enrolled as I assumed I was the junior star of State Bank Officers Colony and new how to bowl the cricket ball with full action and all that. How many kids of age 7 would know that? So we all stood on the D-day, in the lower ground; right side; immediately after you climb down the stairs from the ground where all the kinder garten kids used to play. We had the entire length of the ground to throw at. "Aaraa first eriyaan varunnadu?", the sister who was in charge asked around. The hero from State Bank Colony put his hand up; to display his bowling abilities and proceeded to the run-up, after taking 10 steps and all. He threw the best full toss he could; with complete action and all; (it is a cricket ball throw remember? - not any random ball) and the ball landed after about 10 meters. Then came Razack. No run up, no action, one wild swish of the arm and the red object flew miles and probably landed at the other end of the ground. "This is cheating, you are supposed to be bowling it, and not throwing it", a young boy rebelled silently in mind.

Then came the sports days in Presentation. No bags, only packed lunch and shoes if you are a runner. After usually getting defeated in the qualifiers in the 100 metres, I would wait for the long jump or lemon and spoon (when it was an Olympics event). An entire school wearing anti-aids-like ribbons in the colours of pink, white and red (picturising Joy, Peace and Love). I was never in the Love squad (heh heh.. and happy about it). Was in Joy house many times and Peace house a couple of times. By noon there would be a few people whom the fortunes of each of the houses depended on - Razack, Biju, Sumeesh, Lumina's brother (was his name Vinu?), Ajay Alex, Bijoy Alex, Lumina, another girl whose name began with an "S"; and as they turned the blind corner around the convent and crossed the headmistress' room into the last lap, the crowd roared; and said "up-up" [Such noble souls we were then.. hmmmmm] and some among us would race along with these folks outside the tracks as they ran; so that they could be with their racing heros at the finish line and listen in and empathise with their moments of fame. ["I was leading till the convent, till he changed tracks and blocked me.. else I would have been first"]. But I have never seen Razack complain. He would sit and look at his soles, drink some water and go do his next race. what strength and energy!
The strength and energy came every day packed in steel lunch boxes at 1220 in a Jeep. Hot and straight from the Sagar kitchen - for Razack and his brothers and sisters, who studied there. Chicken Biriyani - with a compulsory leg piece or Poratta and Meen fry - on alternate days. Immediately he was offered with open lunch boxes for an exchange. What he liked he picked for an exchange of stuff from his box. If he really LOVED it, Razack's lunch box was yours. At the end of the day, there was a little bit of Razack (or should it be strength and energy?) in each of us.

I told you about the destiny of walking the same path. When Amma and I went to Silver Hills for an application form; the only two applicants waiting for forms were Razack and I. Then post the "entrance exam" to Silver Hills, first day at new school, the attendance register had the familair ring. The attendance still started with Abdul Razack K T; as it always had - ever since I started school, it would remain so till 10 standard. Till that day when we exchanged autographs and set off in different directions.
For the first time in my life, I would not be sharing a classroom with Abdul Razack.

3 years later, I met him at a gym; during summer vacations. His physique said that he has been a regular. He drove me around in what was the best model of car available in Calicut in 1994. Then again, a chance meeting said he was in Bangalore and then again back in Sagar - when I was searching for a table for 5; on a busy Saturday afternoon. Nammalu ethra kaalayeda kandittu... he mentioned when he instructed his staff to take care of me and my lunch companions.

That evening, I dusted up my standard tenth autograph book. The entry signed by Abdul Razack said "we are the only people who have spent 12 years of school together. Forget me not".

Rajesh L S

There are some incidents and people whom after lying dormant in your memory for a long long time and the first instance of re-collection it all comes back fresh and vivid.
He had left a note at my home that said "just tell Ashok that Rajesh had called"; and I thought it was another person by the same name. So he called again and when I picked it up "Guess who this is?"; he said. I said "give me more context. talk a little more and give me some swear words or something, as many people have their own trademark words which give them away". In this case there was none, no accent of a particular district. Straightforward Malayalam for someone who lived in many places in the state and who can change the tune specific to where he is at any point in time or place. He said "edaaa idu Rajesh aanu". Oh "L S!!" I exclaimed.
Truly so, for Rajesh LS has faint roots in Tamil Nadu or bordering Palakkad somewhere which makes him rather at ease at Tamil as well as the Palakkaad graamam bhaasha. Then Calicut and then Trivandrum; he had actually lived across the state before he had turned 15.
There were two Rajesh's ; Rajesh LS and Rajesh P; so one was called just "LS" and the other RajeshPea; with no space in between the name and the initials. There is a second standard school photo; which went it gets dusted up from my mother's carefully preserved albums to see her sons in the way she always would like to see them; which is the picture I remembered Rajesh in till I saw him in March 2008; may be more than 20 years later. Big eyes, neatly combed hair and comparatively less gawky than the rest of the boys in the photograph.
And for some reason; some brothers are remembered in school as packages - and Rajesh had one too Ramesh L S. So it was only obvious that I asked him about his brother to only know that in he lived only 6 kilometers away from where I lived in Bangalore. He too led the exodus that happened from Presentation to Silver Hills after class 5th or 6th. At Silver Hills may be he had his circle and I had mine; am unable to remember too many instances at Silver Hills where we were in a story together. Then all I knew is sometime in high school he had left for Trivandrum. I was told Christ Nagar and later when on a school excursion to Kovalam, Kanya Kumari, Kodaikanal, Madurai etc; we stopped over at Christ Nagar school on a Sunday and I remember remembering "this is where L S studies".
On March 2008 one day he took the time from his office to visit me at the hotel and we met up for lunch. Rajesh had changed in his looks. We could have easily sat next to each other in a bus for about 5 minutes and got up without knowing who each other was. The neatly combed hair had not changed one bit. No shades of hair loss ; and not one strand out of place. If you morphed the hairlines against the second standard photo, it would overlap 98% may be. He worked in an investment banking firm and played a part in the Sensex movements in Dalal Street. If you be nice to him, he will let you where to put your money in the market - for free, else he charges you a fortune. I don't really remember what we talked - other than ramblings of what does one get to do in the city post office hours and some beer joints between Techno park and the airport - but I got the sense that LS had the potential to go wild; given the right amount of crystal glass, spirits on the rocks. Curious enough to tap that part of his I suggested we go meet up later in the evening before I my flight. My official event got delayed. We ended up meeting at the airport and wandered around to find a good sit and drink place which was not to be.

Am sure I will tap the wild side of Rajesh sometime soon. May be Bangalore is an easier venue.

Mathew Thomas

Mathew and I never ever spoke in all 7 years in our Presentation School stint. I don't think we were in the same sections ever. But Mathew Thomas became an instant star in my mind; when he was one of the few boys selected to do ball dance in primary school at the Presentation school annual day. I have no idea who he danced with. But I lived in an era or may be in my own mindset where little boys considered it un-cool to be seen talking to girls; despite wanting to; for the fear of being teased. In that scenario; dancing!; on stage!!; with 10 other girls!!!; with 1000 odd people watching!!!! (Oh My God!) would be enough incident for me to run away from home.
Already he was the star roller-skater in school and sometimes he won prizes that said he did skating for 12 hours non-stop. (wow! how did he do it.. but then.. didn't he have to....? may be there is a trick to it... ) random thoughts crossed my mind while I stood at the assembly while Mathew and sister Achamma brought back trophies from the REC Calicut Wheels competition or other events for very many years ; from the time I could remember. He inspired me to buy roller skates, and I inspired my brother to buy roller skates. I could not inspire myself to fall and hurt my knees. My brother started rolling on and would eat and sleep with them; till one day he inherited mine that was so unused that the ball bearings had got rusty.
May be it was eighth standard may be it was ninth; Mathew just shot up in height and had a rapid movement backwards in where he stood in the school assembly. Maybe that also gave him the reason to take permission to go to school in a bicycle. BSA - SLR - Maroon colour. With almost 90% of the route from Silver Hills to home being common; we started connecting. he showed me his cottage-looking house at Golf Link Road at Chevayoor. I have never been inside, but it looked lovely from the outside and Mathew talked about cocoa and pepper getting cultivated in plenty in his backyard and I used to visualised a huge playground full of black seeds and brown seeds that smelt like chocolate. Then he moved to Hill View Colony, where Praveen already stayed. I don't know the house number; but you drive straight into the colony, skip the first intersection and look for the last house on the left; that is his house. Keeping in touch wasn't an issue - in the five digit telephone exchanges that we had, I subtract 10 from my home phone number, it was Mathews. If I added 10, it was Calicut Medical College Ladies Hostel. Both came handy at different points in time. The first, to co-ordinate start times from home on bicycles, the latter to co-ordinate meeting times outside homes.
Then the usual suspects got rounded up again at Ouseph sir's house and Nambisan Uncle's house and as explained earlier in Anil P's write up; Ouseph sir; going by Mathew's maths marks; predicted Mathew's taking up engineering after school. and he did.
Post that, I met Mathew once in a cinema hall? not sure.. or was it at the railway station booking counter? anyway, he was straight out of a Beatles album - long flowing hair, printed shirts and very faded jeans. He visits once in a while and would take a mid-night bus that would take him to Kothamangalam at 6 in the morning! That was quick. He had evolved in life, like how all college goers evolve eventually. If not during first year, they evolve in the second or third year. By final year, one is actually so evolved; that sometimes it takes a warden or a hostel raid to put to back to ground reality.

Mathew moved to Pune, I moved to Lucknow. E-mails and messengers were being put to proper use those days, unlike the days of maniacally forwarded jokes. mattkanjickal and ashrk connected as online entities with yellow faces that had smileys that winked, in a language we had never ever spoken to each other before - even in the language class - English.

After a long break of may be 5 years, I heard from him again when his junior announced his arrival. I hope someday he reads this; and asks his dad "where was your cottage in Golf Link Road?". A different structure stands where his colonial cottage stood, but am sure he will feel the walls and rooms strongly enough to paint the picture for a young son to dream about.

Praveen Balachandran

I don't remember the first time i saw Praveen. He was not there in my Class 2 A group photograph. So may be he joined school later than that or he was in a different division - class 2B. At Class 4 we were together; with Sister Rose Mary being the class teacher. Sister Rose Mary believed in relationships; and may be in jest; she did a good job of pairing up the boys and girls in the class to sit together. The reason she quoted Praveens' getting paired up with Swapna was that they look lovely as a couple. Now looking at that class 4 photograph, she was right. Praveen and Swapna were two of the best looking people in their respective genders and am sure he did start creating a flutter in innocent 9 year olds in blue skirts, pig tails, pony tails and white ribbons.

Praveen's house was on the way to school. In Hill View Colony. The house had a rear entrance that was accessible from the road and the main entrance that one had to go through their colony for. Every morning, i would sneak in; through the rear entrance. For a reason that I still don't know of, I avoided the main entrance through the colony road. Even after 1 year of daily visits, his mother would open the door with a smile; to let in a nine year old; who increasingly thought it was his right to be let in. I also remember Praveen's uncle, who was his college's star in Volley ball and could actually jump and touch the ceiling of the house that was 10 feet high (Wow!!).

Now I don't even know why I used to visit his house. The only reason I remember, which was valid for a short time, was television had just arrived Calicut in 1984 and we still had not bought one. The Indian Cricket Team was in Australia to play the Benson & Hedges World Series of Cricket. It was the first time cricket was played in coloured clothing and India had Blue and Yellow. The regular morning starts in Australia meant a start at about 4:30 am India time. By the time I was in Praveen's house at 8:00 am or so (20 minutes ahead of my usual visits) ; the match would be interestingly poised.

At school, the guava tree in the left end of the playground was a hang-out point. Coming to think of it, Presentation High school had the ambience of a resort. There Praveen, with roots in Vadakara would argue why Vadakara was the best place to be. It seems so, that majority of Volley Ball payers in the Kerala state team was from Vadakara, and it seems so was Thacholi Odenan, the great hero of Malabar folk songs. The rest of the gang would not refute. One, his uncle was a volley ball player. So we presumed that what Praveen said about Volly ball was correct. Two, none of us knew the origins of Odenan, so we gave it to him.

I moved to Silver Hills after standard 5 and Praveen joined two years later. Silver Hills had a strong migrant population from Presentation (not Presentations' fault. But boys were not allowed in Presentation after standard 7), so getting imbibed was not an issue for Praveen. By now he was a member of the Under-12 Kerala State team for cricket; and was at the age of 13, also getting considered for the Under 15 team. Cricket took care of fans and admirers among all sections of the society

Maybe it is because of Praveen that I had the courage to ask Amma for permission to go to school in my bicycle, and it was definitely because of Praveen that I changed my bicycle handle from a standard one to a sporty one. All that resulted in our being a band of boys who travelled 14 odd kilometers every day, to and fro, on their bicycles - Mathew, Prameesh and sometime Biju MV were to join in.

The last I met him was in 1991. The tenth standard exams (that happened in March) results were out in May. Praveen had done very well and he would also have extra marks given by the education department because he represented the state in Cricket in January. Then I heard that he was in Kolar for his under graduation studies. then came the dark ages (when letter writing as an activity was on the decline; when there were no mobile phones; when the phones mentioned in school facebooks did not exist anymore and of course no Internet). Little did I know he worked two blocks away from my favorite pub in Bangalore for almost 2 years.

And in 2007 when I was inducted into Presentation's newly created e-group; a casual glance at some of the earlier mails had a subject "where is Praveen Balachandran???". No marks for guessing the gender of the enquirer. It had to be from an old classmate who was once in blue skirt, white shirt and pigtails