IndusLadies - Blogs - Chewing the fat! by Cheeniya

Daddy, daddy, oh my daddy!

Cheeniya — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 08:49:43 GMT

Today�s �The Hindu� (21 October 2008 ) carries an interesting and thought provoking piece of news in its last page under the caption �Fathers aloof�. It says that the Australian fathers spend only six minutes alone with their children on week days, according to research. It is also reported that they also leave most child-raising chores to women. My initial reaction, on reading this piece of news, was why this should make news now when we have known it in India for several centuries. My mind raced back to my own childhood when the only interaction we ever had with our father was to get a dressing down occasionally. All the dressing down for the whole year would average out to about 5 minutes a day.

The common joke about a busy father those days was that his child wouldn�t know who its father was because he always left for office before the child woke up in the morning and returned back from the office only after the child had gone to bed. On Sundays and holidays, he would spend most of his time with his friends playing cards and on such productive avocation! I remember vividly the thrashing of a peer of mine by his mother because he pointed out to his father on a Sunday morning and asked his mother who that uncle was! My own dad never knew much about our academic progress save what he might gather from our progress reports!

My dad was always a highly pre-occupied man though none of us knew the exact nature of his pre-occupation. He seemed always lost in thought and would have made a better model for Rodin while he was sculpting his famous �The Thinker�. But my mum always told her friends that the pre-occupied look of my dad was just a ruse to keep us out of his way! But in retrospect, when I did the same with my two daughters, it became plain to me that men were not cut out for directing the course of children. I realised that men were better in pursuing their corporate ambitions but when it came to raising their children, they would trust their wives more. Men are shrewd enough to take up only such assignments where there is a least chance of anything going wrong because they are generally averse to being held accountable for any goofing up. And they are really weary of areas where any goofing up could lead to a life long problem.

The only pockets where men may be playing an active role in bringing up their children will be the aborigines of the world who continue to live by the strength of their brawn and not brain. In such cases, men may be in a better position to teach their wards about hunting without getting hurt and such secrets of life. In the rest of the world, mothers have been undoubtedly playing a greater role in molding the character of their children. The most outstanding summing up of a mother�s role in molding the lives of her children comes from David McKay, �The noblest calling in the world is that of mother. True motherhood is the most beautiful of all arts, the greatest of all professions. She who can paint a masterpiece or who can write a book that will influence millions deserves the plaudits and admiration of mankind; but she who rears successfully a family of healthy, beautiful sons and daughters whose immortal souls will be exerting an influence throughout the ages long after painting shall have faded, and books and statues shall have been destroyed, deserves the highest honor that man can give�

My second childhood!

Cheeniya — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 13:53:53 GMT

How right it is to say that old age is second childhood! Let me confess to you that the comic strips in newspapers engage my attention a lot more than the prime news section. After all, there is nothing novel in bomb blasts and the communists trying to deride the nuclear agreement with US. Occasionally, newsmakers like Tehelka may conduct a sting operation but even that is fast losing its glamour. Apart from the comic strips, I glance through the Obituary column to see if any one who shared my bench in the school has kicked the bucket. But I do get totally immersed in the comic strips and the brain twisters like how many words we can squeeze out of some six or seven letters. I even avoid all phone calls during this strictly private moment of mine!

Of the comic strips that I read daily, Hagar the Horrible and Bud Blake�s Tiger are my top favourites. I found Tiger uttering something in today�s piece that is not only funny but quite profound too. In today�s episode, Tiger�s friend Suzy sets up a fortune-telling stall and the business is rather dull. When she laments to Tiger about the tardy business, Tiger says �I guess the future isn�t what it used to be�! This, I think, is an outstanding statement. I have seen people getting worried about their life in general and saying the same thing about the present state of affairs but the comment of Tiger set me thinking. Can future be not what it used to be?

About five decades back, my perception of future as a lad of 15 was all about a radio which we could carry wherever we went and machines that would wash my clothes without my having to bash them up against a slanted piece of rock like a demented fellow! I would try to avoid going out on Wednesday nights to stay tuned to Amin Sayani�s Binaca Geeth Mala. When it became imperative that I would have to skip it due to some engagement outside, that was the time when I used to dream of a portable radio. But ask my grandson who is 15 now about what he envisions as future, he�ll talk of short-haul private jets that would carry about six persons at a speed exceeding that of sound which, he hopes, would replace the existing automobiles. When I hear from him what would life be like after five decades, he tells me things that go way above my head!

There is a community called Kottapillamar that lives in a secluded locality in Srivaikuntam in Tamilnadu. The ladies of this community are not allowed to go out of the walled conclave and some of them may not have seen even a train! I often wonder what would be their perception of future. Remember that delightful comedy �The Gods must be crazy� released in 1980. The film opens with a Coke bottle thrown from an aircraft and following that, a lot of crazy things happen because the aborigines of Botswana had never seen a Coke bottle before! Their vision of future would be what we were a century back!

Future is not, therefore, the same for everyone. It changes from time to time and people to people. Tiger�s terse comment that �future is not what it used to be� makes a lot of sense. In fact, the future fluctuates a lot more than the present and the past. We�ll talk about how the past is not what it used to be sometime in the future if you are in a mood for it!

Living with my heart

Cheeniya — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 09:45:44 GMT

My heart has ears so sensitive
They can hear the lilting music
Of a flower blooming slowly.
The eyes it has can see the rainbow
Splashed with blue and pink
The colours of love and romance
Its nose can smell the sweet scent
Of the fusion of raindrops with the fields
The honeyed sounds that emanate
From its mouth can put a dragon to sleep
Its strong arms can sculpt with ease
The missing hands of the goddess of love
That she can lend them to all ailing lovers
The legs it has can carry it to succour
Other hearts in their hour of pain.
I let my heart be me when I find
My head tends to bring me discredit
Oh my heart has won me greater laurels
Than my mind ever did all my life!

The aging ship sets sail again

Cheeniya — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 06:29:43 GMT

There was this magnificent ship cast in pure gold and studded with precious gems, a vessel that was built to traverse not only the mundane waters of the seven seas but also the oceans of the heavens. But alas, it had no one to take command and guide it to set sail. For a long, long time it remained rudderless. With the efflux of time and the absence of an ideal commander, the ship started aging and the glittering gold lost all its sheen till it was a dull sheet of pale yellow. The precious gems that shone like the bright stars of the heavens were now like the telltale signs of a ravaging plague. The ship looked pathetic, tossing about in the high seas, a mere shell of what once was the most beautiful sight on earth.

It was then that I sighted the dying ship in the blinding flash of a heavenly light. In that split second, I could see that the aging ship belonged to me. Beneath the thin veneer of its withering gold, I could perceive all the magnificence that must have been an inherent part of this wondrous ship. I knew instantly that it needed me most to regain all its glory. I suddenly felt this urge to take command gushing into my whole being. And so I took command.

When I put my hand on the helm, the whole ship shook in a mighty heave and through my fingers I could feel how long it must have waited for me and how much it longed for this magic touch. As if touched by the wand of the world�s greatest magician, the ship regained all its lost magnificence instantly. The gold shone brighter than ever before and the gems put the stars to shame. With my deft hands steering it, the heavenly ship sailed along the silvery moon for its most memorable voyage. Soon it became a legend traversing the seas of all the worlds here and beyond the limits of the heavens.

I knew that soon a day would come when my ship would be lifeless. It would be the saddest day of my life. But then, nothing would keep me away from it. We belong to each other. We have no will to exist without the other.

The poetry bug has bitten me too!

Cheeniya — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 08:27:36 GMT

Hi all!
If this attempt of mine reminds you of the cat that stripes itself with a hot iron on seeing a tiger, dont laugh! I know this poem sounds like the stories that kids tell their moms!

The Love Yonder.

The car purrs along
The sea on the left looks mystical
The waves try to kiss the sky in a mighty heave
It's their way of telling me
That no matter how far you are
You will always be within my reach.

The sun is blushing and dipping in the west
Conceding defeat in matching the warmth
Of my feelings for you.

The road ahead appears endless
But driving is fun knowing you are waiting
At the end of my long drive.

The rainbow rising over the sea
Appears less colourful than my thoughts of you.
When love reigns supreme
The world looks as if it just had a shower
Dressed up and perfumed.

How else will you explain
The scent of a million flowers
Wafting through the air
At this time of the day?

The stars seem impatient
To put in their appearance
Not knowing they have no place in my heart
Being occupied by the star of all stars.

Sri

Men are from Mars and women from Venus!

Cheeniya — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 06:41:03 GMT

Eversince God created Adam and out of his rib, Eve, men and women have been fighting for supremacy. I am not going to argue the case in favour of anyone. I have always unabashedly conceded that women are far superior for various reasons. Basically, men and women are made of different dreams, different fancies and woefully there is not a single item that can fall within the range of being common to both. Look at this description of what constitute a perfect day for men and women which I read somewhere:

For HER
08:15 Wake up to hugs
08:30 Weigh in 2kg lighter than yesterday
08:45 Breakfast in bed, freshly squeezed orange juice and croissants; open presents expensive jewellery chosen by thoughtful partner.
09:15 Soothing hot bath with frangipani oil
10:00 Light workout at club
10:30 Facial, manicure, shampoo, condition, blow dry
12:00 Lunch with best friend at fashionable outdoor cafe
12:45 Catch sight of husband's/boyfriend's ex and notice that she has gained 7 kg
13:00 Shopping with friends. Unlimited credit.
15:00 Nap
16:00 3 dozen red roses delivered by florist from a secret admirer
16:15 Light workout at club followed by massage
17:30 Choose outfit from expensive, designer wardrobe. Parade in front of full length mirror
19:30 Candlelit dinner for two followed by dancing, with compliments received from other diners / dancers
22:00 Hot shower (alone)
22:50 Carried to bed. Freshly ironed, crisp, new white linen
23:00 Pillow talk
23:15 Fall into deep sleep
------------------
For HIM
06:00 Alarm
06:15 Alarm again
06:30 Reading the sports pages sitting on the toilet
07:00 Breakfast. Rump steak and eggs, coffee and toast
07:30 Limo arrives
07:45 Several whiskeys en-route to airport
09:15 Flight in personal Lear jet
09:30 Limo to St. Andrew' s golf club
09:45 Play front nine (2 under)
11:45 Lunch. Pie, chips and gravy, 3 lagers and a bottle of Dom Perignon
12:30 Play back nine (4 under)
14:15 Limo back to airport (several whiskeys)
14:30 Fly to Monte Carlo
15:30 Late afternoon fishing excursion with all female crew
16:30 Land world record Marlin (1234lb) on light tackle.
17:00 Fly home.
18:45 Shower and shave
19:00 Watch news: Michael Jackson assassinated; steep fall in price of whisky
19:45 Dinner. Lobster appetisers, Dom Perignon (1953); big juicy fillet steak followed by ice cream
21:00 Napoleon brandy and Cohiba cigar in front of wall-sized TV showing International Match of the Day. England 11: Germany 0.
23:30 Massage and Jacuzzi with tasty pizza snacks and a cleansing ale
00:15 Night cap
00:30 In bed alone

I am not saying that this is a true mindset of all men and women but I am just pointing this out to bring out the essential difference between the ingredients of male and female yearnings. Further, the list represents essentially the western mind conditioned by TV serials like The Life Style of the Rich and Famous. The Oriental mind nourishes the same dreams but in a varying degree.

Have you noticed the similarity between the War of the sexes and the battles of yore like the Kurukshetra war? The dawn will see the commencement of intense hostilities with severed heads rolling into dust and being trampled by massive elephants and horses. At dust, a conch will be blown and hostilities will cease instantly. By the way, I am sure you would have also seen a TV ad showing two Generals of warring nations clandestinely exchanging drinks across a barbed fence at dead of night! The War of the sexes also confines itself to this time frame broadly. In fact, the truce that is reached at night would almost appear everlasting but the first rays of the morning sun return the boxing gloves to the warring parties!

I must say this about men in general. Their capacity to take a joke upon themselves is unlimited. They don�t purse their lips and complain just because the wise men who compiled the English words chose the word �male� as a prefix to describe all negative things like malediction, malefactor, malefic, malevolence and what have you! Their desire for a peaceful and symbiotic coexistence is no less than that of the female of the species. PGW once dedicated a book of his to his wife saying �To my wife but for whom I would have finished this long back!� And they were married for so many years! The incessant nagging at the background brought out the best in him. And there is a moral for you that one cannot do without the other, skirmishes notwithstanding!

The nuances of mud slinging

Cheeniya — Sun, 13 Jan 2008 08:12:17 GMT

I am sure that you would have followed closely the recent elections to Gujarat Assembly.
This election witnessed the most intense acrimony between the warring political parties. The principal architects of both parties did go overboard with their electioneering. It was a no-holds barred campaign in which mud slinging of the highest order was witnessed. All is quiet now and will surface again when the next election is round the corner.

I am not going to talk to you about the Indian politics now. If that subject interests you, you may go and watch Rang De Basanti to get an insight into it. I am instead going to talk to you about what I consider as the most significant feature of the modern electioneering. It is the pure, high quality mud slinging that would make Symonds and Harbajan hang down their heads in shame. The ladies at our municipal taps vying with each other for getting their due share of water would go green with envy at the innovative mud slinging of our politicians. Whereas the water-starved ladies confine themselves to the dubious morals of their adversaries as the prime subject of their mud slinging, the politicians display a reach greater than that of a cross between the mythological Karthaveeryarjuna who had a thousand hands and Adhisesha who had a thousand heads and hence a thousand tongues.

The Olympic Games have a motto that exhorts the participants to be "Citius, Altius, Fortius." which in simple English means "Swifter, Higher, Stronger�. In Olympic events, the contestants have a specific parameter. In a running race, for instance, one needs to be just very fast on his feet to be a winner. In a long jump, one has to leap the longest. But in mud slinging, the winner is not decided on a single parameter like in an Olympic event. Mud slinging is sprint, long jump, high jump and shot-put all rolled into one. The mud that you sling has to be heavier, travel faster and reach longer to be really an effective winning stuff.

These mud-slinging parameters need to be explained. Heavier, for instance, would mean making wild accusations without bothering to back it up with any documentary evidence. Wodehousians like me would never forget the accusation made by Augustus Fink Nottle against a student, who won a prize in Scripture competition attributing his success, to a clandestine relationship his mother had with the Head Master. Reach longer would mean bringing as many people as possible under the rain of mud that we sling. This is to ensure that the mud slung by us hits not only our sworn adversary but also his entire circle of supporters. Travel faster is the only way to ensure that our mud hits him first even before his mud leaves his hands.

You now have a fairly good idea of the nuances of mud slinging. But remember to choose your victim carefully. It is possible that he may not be worth the mud. In that case, you will just end up dirtying your hands.

Communication gaps!

Cheeniya — Wed, 26 Dec 2007 07:17:27 GMT

You will be amazed to read this. About 87% of all the misunderstandings in the world are due to a communication gap. Communication gap is reported to be the cause of a whopping 93% of problems between a husband and wife! It is no wonder, therefore, that more and more people have started attending classes on developing communication skills. I won�t be surprised if the teachers of effective communication outnumbered their counterparts in other areas of specialization.

Talking of communication problem being the culprit of souring up of relations between couples, I must tell you an anecdote I read somewhere.
A judge was interviewing a woman regarding her pending divorce, and asked, "What are the grounds for your divorce?"
She replied, "About four acres and a nice little home in the middle of the property with a stream running by."
"No," he said, "I mean what is the foundation of this case?"
"It is made of concrete, brick and mortar," she responded.
"I mean," he continued, "What are your relations like?"
"I have an aunt and uncle living here in town, and so do my husband's parents."
He said, "Do you have a real grudge?"
"No," she replied, "We have a two-car carport and have never really needed one."
"Please," he tried again, "Is there any infidelity in your marriage?"
"Yes, both my son and daughter have stereo sets. We don't necessarily like the music, but the answer to your questions is yes."
"Ma'am, does your husband ever beat you up?"
"Yes," she responded, "about twice a week he gets up earlier than I do."
Finally, in frustration, the judge asked, "Lady, why do you want a divorce?"
"Oh, I don't want a divorce," she replied. "I've never wanted a divorce. My husband does. He said he can't communicate with me."

We see from this anecdote a breach of all the three golden principles of effective communication:
� You must make your message understood
� You must receive/understand the intended message sent to you
� You should exercise some control over the flow of communication
A communication gap occurs when there is a failure of any one or all of the above principles. Yet another problem in communication is when we have to cope with words with which we are not familiar. It may not land us in a serious problem but on occasions like the following, it can.

This guy goes into a restaurant and looks over the menu. After a few minutes, the waitress comes to the table and asks the guy what he'd like. The guy says, "I'd like a quickie". The waitress flushes and says, "That's not funny, sir. Now, what would you like to order?" The guy says, "I'd really like a quickie". The waitress slaps him hard and storms off angrily.
Another customer, overhearing the conversation, leans over and says to the guy, "Um, I think that it's pronounced 'quiche'!"

Well, it is not my intention to write an essay here on Communication skills with lavish illustrations. To tell you the truth, my poor communication skills have landed me in more spots than there are on the face of the sun. But I do manage to stay afloat because my circle of friends have developed a skill to descramble whatever I say and make sense out of it! I do feel that I am a monumental example of Whittington�s First Law of Communication:
�When a writer prepares a manuscript on a subject that he does not understand, his work will be understood only by readers who know more about that subject than he does�!

Voluntary morality!

Cheeniya — Sun, 02 Dec 2007 08:31:04 GMT

The other day I saw a limousine overtaking my humble car by cutting across the yellow line. As the car sped ahead of me, I saw its rear screen plastered with the logo of a famous international service organization. I could see a distinguished gentleman at the wheel having an animated conversation on his cell phone. I had the pleasure of meeting this gentleman later when I visited his club as a guest of a member there. I came to know that he was a senior member of the outfit in Chennai who usually addressed the members on the Objectives of the Organisation and allied subjects. On the particular day he was talking on Morality being the underlining principle of the Organisation. It was a thought provoking speech that drew a standing ovation on conclusion. He had more admiring glances thrown at him that day than any other Club luminary ever got on any given day. If the lights had gone off at that moment, we could have even seen a halo round his head. I was appalled by this spectacle of Sainthood thrust upon an unworthy man because I had witnessed this man breaking law on two counts on a single occasion. At my very first encounter with him, he had not only cut across the yellow line but was also using the cell phone while driving, both actions considered illegal in this part of the world. He was doing it right under the Logo of the Organisation that he so proudly displayed in his car.

I recall what Lincoln Steffens had said about morality. He said �Morality is moral only when it is voluntary.� There are two kinds of law-abiding citizens in this country. A majority of us are law abiding only in the presence of law enforcement agency and the rest, which is a small percentage, are law-abiding in all situations. How often we respect traffic signals if there is no traffic or a policeman in sight? We drive in the wrong direction in one-way streets at dead of night telling ourselves it is beyond 11 p.m.

I have seen some buildings with their compound walls painted with the pictures of gods to discourage the public from committing nuisance, which is an expression commonly used to refer to people who consider any open space as public toilet. I am told that the results of such an experiment are excellent though there are a few hardcore law-breakers who remain unmoved by such methods. The presence of his Club�s logo in his car and workplace should be as much of a deterrent to breaking laws as that of gods� pictures on compound walls to people who consider the whole open world as a public toilet! Whether or not there is a traffic cop around or there is total absence of any traffic, the sheer presence of the logo should dissuade him from breaking the law of the land, however minor the offence may be.

The White Crow!

Cheeniya — Mon, 26 Nov 2007 06:21:07 GMT

It is customary among young parents of infants to employ the time-tested trick of diverting the attention of their children whenever they become difficult to handle. We have seen mothers pointing out to some white crow flying in the sky while trying to feed their stubborn kids. They tell fascinating stories of kings and princesses to the insomniac kids to put them to sleep. Thanks to this excessive exposure to the technique of diverting, by the time the child gets to a reasonable age, he becomes totally prone to get easily diverted.

Do you remember the story of Prahlad? In spite of being the only son of an Asura, he developed such immense faith in God because of his exposure to a constant chanting of God�s name when he was in his mother�s womb. Such is the power of any exposure in childhood. Coming back to our story, we have a whole generation of people who are prone to get easily diverted to the point of being branded as gullible. Haven�t you heard of conmen depriving someone of his hard-earned money just drawn from a Bank by just getting his attention diverted to something on the floor? Such stories are plenty and if I go about narrating every one of them, then this article will run to years of reading like The Bold and the Beautiful. All I ask you now is whether you have got the gist of what I am trying to tell you.

Look at what is happening in the country. We are going through some exceedingly difficult times. We have unfriendly neighbors who are like a thorn in our flesh. We have shortage of every essential commodity and the prices are going through the roof. The crime rate is increasing alarmingly. Every one is getting kidnapped for, God knows, what reason. There is rampant indiscipline even in essential services. The travels, both by surface and air, have become life-threatening propositions. There are millions of critical issues that need to be addressed urgently. Yet what is it that is exercising everybody�s mind now? 123 Agreement! We are made to believe that once the divergences between Indian and U.S. interpretations of the deal and growing discrepancies between U.S. demands and Manmohan Singh's pledges are sorted out, India, that is Bharat as Nehru used to call, will again be a land flowing with milk and honey as in the days of yore.

123 Agreement is an extension of the white crow that our mothers used to point out in our infant days to divert our attention. Only difference now is that the story is being told to us in a different format and by a different class of people namely the powers that be. Of course there is this other major difference that we are not infants anymore. But, as I pointed out in the beginning, getting diverted easily is ingrained in our system. The show, I am afraid, will go on no matter who is at the helm of affairs.