When the stars stared at us

Ever since I watched ‘ lion king’ I have always wanted to lie down beneath the open sky and stare up at the stars above… it was a beautiful sight when the little simba does that in the movie. Well my childish dream came true in Pushkar desert in Rajasthan. That was a part of our desert safari and we were told to sleep in the open sky while the stars may watch us sleep.  That was the 8^th hilarious day in our 14 days all India trip. We were 34 in total… all very  young and adventurous… on our mission was  to discover the ‘Incredible India’. The surprise of the night was not only that… before sleeping, the natives  who were our  hosts, served us with a sumptuous maharajah meal ,consisting of plain rice, delicious dal and a‘chappatibonda’, but the interesting part was the finishing dessert ‘malpua’, a mouth watering dish that one should never miss.

The second maharajah meal was at Karim’s Restaurant ,New Delhi .People say that late Emperor Akbar’s cook is running the restaurant . The Mughalai experience was so delicious and memorable. Especially when a group of south Indian girls impatiently wait for the meal after travelling for one and half days by  train and saving up the stomach since morning for this auspicious ‘meal of the day’.We sat there impatiently waiting for our order while we chit chatted in the only language we were all thorough with, which is Malayalam while the people around us stared probably wondering  whether we are eating a meal for the first time in years.

 

At Karim’s, Delhi

Travelling is not always as merry as they say. Delhi Connaught Place is  a spot  I shall never forget . This is the place where my friend almost got lost in the metro station. I remember how much our adrenaline shot up at that moment. With little  knowledge of the place we were in and with our ridiculous knowledge in Hindi, for a moment we thought we are all done here. But luckily the fate was on our side and she joined us soon to our relief.

I didn’t  know what a darga was until I visited one .The one and only famous Ajmer Darga. What even more fascinated me is the road and crowd that led to the place. The streets were overflowing with people, a thousand activities taking place at a time apart from all these there were many  people  with special needs begging in the midst which was a very 'peculiar’ sight to see. There were crippled people rolling on their backs as they had neither hands nor legs. Such unpleasant sights are unusual to find in normal life even though throughout India it is not something uncommon. Inside the darga  it was very interesting to see how so many people of different creeds and faith came there.It amazed me when the devotees whether they be Hindu, Muslim,sikh or jain , were so preoccupied with worshiping or doing their rituals and ceremonies that they never care for any other activity happening around them. The place seemed to be like a Mecca in India.

The first time I tasted Kulfi was in Jaipur. I have heard about this delicious ice cream from some of my dear friends at school who happened to be coming from these parts of the country. Jaipur is a large city that have a rich history of past glories and wars. NowI know why the Indian Rajas are so famous throughout the world. The palaces are astonishingly huge and stunning and hats off to the masterminds who were behind those magnificent  palaces and forts.

View from Amer Fort to MaotaLake,Jaipur

Marble carved ceiling in Birla Temple, Jaipur

Jaipur shopping was a big experience. It was interesting how the shopkeepers cunningly convince us to buy from their shops and the way they advertise their goods… for a moment you think it is too good to be a lie. We walked through the streets at night in the busy bazaar area , and sometimes we had to stop for our friends who had trouble with their stomach which is usual at times during travel. Some of us unfortunately had to spend a good amount of their time in washrooms alone during the trip… and jokingly some of us say to them that it was All India Toilet Trip giving special consideration to the train toilets alone!!

Trains… even after few days coming back from the trip I could recall the train noises and feel myself as though I am sitting in the train while I am not…There were coolie waallas who walk to and fro with the container in their hand for tea,coffee and soup. I never thought train travelling would be a pleasure and nightmare at the same time. We didn’t have reserved seats at all when we booked our tickets. That means we had to sweat a lot with our heavy luggage and worst, two people were allotted per berth, and we were split among many compartments along with strangers.  But the plus side was that we travelled across rivers and paddy fields and the remote areas of central India which we could enjoy from the window and had the pleasure of meeting fellow travellers… who gossiped about anything in their life right from their daughter’s in-law house problems to their colleagues'  heart disease.

The chudi Bazaar surrounding Char minar is another wonder itself standing next to the big Indian wonder itself. Where ever I looked, the place was  all glittering and shining with bangles. There is so much noise and people like any other city. The variety of bangles they display at each shopper marvellous and we liked their prices too which were very cheap.

View from Golconda Fort to the Hyderabad city at the backdrop

Going to Ramoji film city was another tick to my bucket list.There was a replica of Eiffel tower and TajMahal,we strolled along the Japanese gardens, Mughal palaces,rode through European street sand what more, we were inside an aeroplane except that it was made of thermocol!! All at the same place in the same day!!

Eiffel Tower in Ramoji, Hyderabad

By the end of my travel I was struck by the stark contrast between the southern and northern india.The country is vividly rich in culture and tradition and one cannot help but admit the beauty of the nation.I did have a big time talking in hindi the whole time. For the entire trip right from the start I didn’t have any option except to talk in hindi. ‘Bhaisaab… thodakamkaro ..’ turned to be my favourite line after my shopping experience. I wonder how many shopkeepers and vendors had a good time laughing about the language that I managed to speak to them. At times I could see them smile through the curve of their mouth which means I just have blurted out a big blunder.Still when I sit back and relax in my room I would drift myself back in to the one and only all India trip we ever had.

By the niece

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Blissful Ignorance

It was summer time, when the out-patient department gets dry just like the weather. We joke  that the extreme weather saves us from frivolous patients who love doctor shopping. Only genuine patients who are really in need would dare the extreme weather. My patients got over by 1 am, which was very unusual even under these circumstances. I visited my colleague’s  room to see if he was free for a much wanted break.

His last patient was a middle aged villager who had taken his place on the revolving tripod in front of my friend. He wore the typical white turban covering his head. He had a big mustache, its  tip was sharp and pointed upwards. I could imagine  years of effort behind  his achievement. He   sharpened his mustache frequently  while he talked. This was the mark of his manhood and he took pride in it. He spoke in his typical colloquial Hindi which  carried a tone of spontaneous  innocence . His white clothes had stains of dirt on it as if he was  just coming  from his paddy field . Surprisingly, the two youngsters who accompanied him wore jeans and T shirts exhibiting an educated background. He was skinny and his face had many wrinkles which bore the reminders of his life’s struggle. But he had a beautiful smile to his advantage and spoke in a jovial tone. His smile made his mustache arch upward and produced dimples (which any other woman would love to have) in between the crisscrosses on his face. He smiled exposing his misaligned and tar coated teeth.

He came to us with vague complains. He said he has a neck swelling which is there for the last 12 years and some minor throat discomfort for the last few days. My friend tried to argue with him  saying  that the swelling could in no way be there  for the last 12 years. Swelling   that  remains  for 12 years and does not rob the life of the patients are limited in number and his swelling was definitely not looking like one which could have spared him. He smiled and said,” Doctor Saab, Apko jyada patha he. Tho do saal karlo”( Doctor , you know better than me, so make it 2 years). When asked about the throat discomfort he had , he said it was just mild and occasional. Then my friend started cross questioning him and he answered every time with the typical smile sometimes looking at my friend and sometimes at me. Any Cough? Sometimes .(Though he was constantly coughing in between his words). Any difficulty in swallowing or breathing? Negative. though  his breathing was labored even while sitting. Do you smoke? No .Actually, that was the wrong question. I don’t ask it that way. I ask them how many years have you  been smoking? What he meant by saying no was that , he didn't smoke  in front of us. I asked him in my way and he said that he smoked 2 bundles of bidi per day for the last 30 years and stopped 5 days ago. No one likes to admit that he smokes , especially to the doctor. Alcoholism? Occasionally, which means on all occasions. Well , occasions occur every day, isn't it? . I asked him how much  a pack of bidi costs? He replied that it cost merely 5 rupees. I told him that it meant  10 rupees per day and Rs 3600 per year. So he had spent nearly 1 lakh rupees on smoking. Babuji ,aap lakhpathi ho.( Uncle ,you are a millionaire). For a moment he got shocked which I thought was due to his realization that he had wasted so much money only to get this disease. But , after a while he smiled at me a said ,doctor Saab, ye tho aapne bahuth badiya baath booli (doctor, you have said the most wonderful thing to me). In fact , this person who might not have  held a 1000 rupee note in his hand was cherishing the fact that he owned 1 lakh. He was really enjoying it.

I looked at my friend and said that if only he could  knew what was going to happen to him in the next few months. He had a cancer in his throat which had spread to his neck lymph nodes , which we usually designate as an advanced stage disease with a very poor prognosis. We could only offer him palliative radiotherapy. By the first few days of starting his treatment , his beautiful moustache which his cherishes so much along with his facial hairs would fall off. Skin changes would appear making his entire skin of the radiated area hard , thick and dry making his wrinkles dissappear. He would have a mask like facies wiping off his innocent smile. His mouth would become dry devoid of saliva and he will  never have a tasty meal again in his life. He will  have frequent episodes of shooting neck pain which even the strongest pain killers are yet to control. After all this , his chances of surviving 5 years are just 40 percentage. Many of them would rather hope to die rather  than living  like this. Here he is sitting front of us in mirth and merriment  ,ignorant of all this. My friend rightly sent him outside the room , not telling him anything. Instead his relatives were informed  of the condition. Atleast he would spend some more time in his wonderland where he is a millionaire on his own

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The Satiation

ONION BONANZA

Alas, how gratifying it is  to remain  anonymous  in this world ,  after all one is  nothing other than  a tiny  drop in this vast  ocean of human species


The  sun was yet to rise,  the morning breeze  cool and refreshing, the atmosphere calm and quite.   When  I  started  driving ,  I discovered  that the trees on both sides of the road had borne beautiful yellow flowers and wondered  why I failed to notice them  earlier . Did I take them for granted as usual  and thereby deprived my mind of  the peace and tranquility  they afford.?  By the time  I reached Doha Central  market, it was  still early morning.  The workers were carrying different items on their trolleys and some of them on their heads or shoulders. There was a comfortable commotion in the market since every one was enjoying what he was doing . For many of them it was their  bread and butter whereas  for the remaining  it was matter of amassing more and more money .
 The  vegetable vendors and fruit merchants  were  arranging and organizing  their items  in  an attractive  manner to woo their customers who   had in  the meantime  begun to throng the market.   I went there very early in the morning   to escape the rush I  was scared of  but there  I was trapped  in the midst of the very same phenomenon I wanted to skip    .  I tried to mingle with  people speaking  different languages   and enjoy   the freshness of   various verities of vegetables, fruits, herbs, leaves  in an attempt  to capture the air of satisfaction  that these inanimate objects  offer  and the “serene and blessed mood” they afforded me with. I mingled with the shoppers  who were choosing the items they wanted and looked for any familiar faces among a them. I know none of them.   Alas, how gratifying it is  to remain  anonymous  in this world ,  after all one is  nothing other than  a tiny  drop in this vast  ocean of human species.  My camera can only take their pictures but can never touch   their spirit. I gazed   at  the green leaves  and vegetables time and again  as their greenery meant some thing to me.

CAULIFLOWER CARPET

TOMATO FEST

Son of a farmer, I   had enjoyed  during my childhood days walking on the  small ridges dividing  the paddy fields. The  folklore songs sung by female workers in those days while planting the rice plants  were simple  and soothing .When the  rice plants moved  in the wind blowing from somewhere I felt that   that they were dancing and   that it was a part of their warm and cordial  welcome to me.  I used  to touch those plants like  a mother patting her child and  they seemed to enjoy my presence.  My father had taught   me that a farmer’s visit to his paddy field  would boost the growth of rice plants and that it was as essential as irrigating  and fertilizing them. 

THE V VIPs

THE ELITE

The fish market was full of life and activity.  The silver like  fresh fish displayed for sale were shining. I  had never fished in troubled waters  but only in fresh waters.  One can brood beyond their flesh.  It  always gives me immense pleasure to watch the fishes moving in our  pond and in  aquariums elsewhere .   While fishing it  was  easy for me to catch  delicious and   very popular  fish in Kerala  known as snakehead by angling when they  move with their fries  as they eat any thing thrown to them  to protect their progeny which were pure red in colour.  But my father had told me not to catch any  snakehead  moving with  its fries since the latter   would perish in the absence of their parents   to protect them  but I have to confess that I had disobeyed him several times in this regard . As a boy my job  was just to catch fish regardless of  the ethics surrounding the issue. In those days  I was too young to understand morals  that  my dad was trying to  advocate and hammer home  to me .  Now when he is no more, “I pine for what is not”. I am glad  that  some of my children have imbibed  such traits from their grandpa . On the eve of  my  eldest son’s marriage,  one of them prevented me from catching the fishes  in our pond  on the ground it was unfair to  kill them  on  such a joyous occasion












 .
While I was returning home, it was raining- very tiny rain drops  were enough to cool one's body and mind. They began to fall like  dew drop falling on the leaves  at dawn.

The Father

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The Sojourn

Once again I am back to Doha that has been providing me with food and shelter for the last several years after spending a few weeks in my village where I am now a native turned tourist . I don’t know why I feel I am missing something,  I behave as if I have lost something and why melancholy still haunts me . The images of those ponds, paddy fields, coconut palms, mango trees and papayas that are the salient features of Kerala flash in my mind. I " pine for what is not " as usual and wish I had remained there some more time. Our sandy seashore where I used to go at dusk to gaze at the horizon covered with golden clouds and the fishing boats bringing various types of fishes, some of them live and shining like newly printed silver coins, continue to beckon me.

Paddy Fields

I am glad that I was not born with silver spoon in my mouth but as the son of a common man and a farmer who was uncertain while sowing the seeds whether he would reap the fruits of his labour. He was entirely dependent upon Nature to irrigate his paddy fields in those days when modern irrigation system was non-existent . In times of flood or drought his crops were destroyed. Just as he was rejoicing when he walked though his paddy field and saw lush green rice plants fluttering in the air , he was terribly upset when his crops were destroyed by drought or flood which meant that his pains and pleasures were inextricably entwined with the soil. His pains exceeded his pleasures and hence he loved to share grievances rather than joys. I will not be able to refute if someone argues that I have inherited these traits from my father. That may be the reason why it is easier for me and my children to shed tears and why tears roll down our cheeks when we watch moving scenes in movies or listen to sad stories.

A Pond in front of our house

I do miss the innocent smiles of some of our villagers who are yet to learn how to dislike others. Among them are elders who treat me like their son, children who behave as if I am their father; my beloved teacher Prahladan Nair who narrates how he used to call at our home when I was a child and how he had taught me the alphabets of my mother tongue while I sat on his lap ; friends and relatives who ask me to be extremely careful while crossing the national high way running through our village as it is an accident prone area; my relative who welcomed me with the vigour and enthusiasm of a youth though he is 99 years old; the old lady and skinny lady who frequent the houses in our neighbourhood to assist the housewives in their household chores and buying food stuff irrespective of whether they pay her or not and the dishevelled woman in her fifties who roams in the village and considered as crazy by others whereas those who know her closely say that the origin of her problem is poverty.

Another  pond in our plot covered by water weeds

Swimming pools are still unknown to our villagers. Before the introduction of bathroom and toilet culture, each house had a pond attached to it which was linked indirectly to Kanoly Canal that runs through the village but the number has now come down. There are very large ponds attached temples and mosques used by the public as common bath. It is always delightful of watch children swimming in the ponds creating a splashing crashing sound. One of them told me that he loves to take bath in a pond though his house has bathrooms and toilets in which he feels that he is locked and his freedom is curtailed.


This is the flowering season for mango trees in our area and some of them bear green mangoes . Even these flowers have an appetising smell . Green mangoes add flavor to fish curry and are widely used by housewives in Kerala and salted mango and mango pickle are popular items . I am sorry that I will not be there when the mangoes ripen. How delightful it is to look at mango trees branches laden with mangoes !

The Father