Survival at the end of the month

We still have 4 more days to payday and my bank account is already parched and dry like the summers of Khandahar. Thanks to maddening March. Tax planning and Uncle Chidambaram have left me scrimping and scrounging. The beggars outside the temple had more purchasing power than me.

Here is what I have in my wallet today. What can a Rupee and 25 Paisa get me? Not even a bus ride to work. The autowalas whom I haggle with were ready today to take me to work at my regular price but I had to decline their offer. Bicycles running besides me seem to have more power than my sturdy legs. I respected the same bicycles that I considered a traffic nuisance when I traveled by car. I lugged my heavy laptop and bruised ego in the hot sun to work while pondering on the power of money. I couldn’t see my own shadow follow me, may be he knew I was penniless and he moved away like the ticks that leave the body of dead animal? My empty smile resembled my wallet.

Luckily I didn’t have to buy lunch since I had packed my lunch from home. But my unruly taste buds fell in love with anything and everything edible that my eyes catch and my nose smells. I felt like a hungry reptile with a sticky tongue. I had to discipline my senses today from not watching and catching chimney smokes from the neighborhood kitchen. It pinches your heart more than your stomach when you don’t have enough change to buy a packet of Tiger biscuit. I wish I could raise the height of my teeth and arrest my saliva from over flowing. Pavlov’s theory was working fine. I could not hold them any further and I shamelessly befriended the guy at the canteen to buy stuff on credit to clam down my ulcerated intestine walls.

My enslaved senses were cursing the one who invented money. I wanted to go back to the days of barter system or even to the days where we could exchange favor for favor rather than money. Man who made money measures him today and makes him complete. Money controls the aperture of his smile and arrogance in his voice. My eyes would not rest if I didn’t pay my credit card dues and EMI. What a life!! Well this is how most of us are today, and our Karma balances are no different. Materialistic comforts and desire is driving us away into the desert of worries and stress. What can we do about it? Here I am waiting shamelessly for my next pay check like the desert sands awaiting the monsoon rain. For the first time I felt my ego balloon was punctured and the gas smelled worse than automobile exhaust, that was the smell of desire. I didn’t wallow in self pity, but rather appreciated life more than money, life is still beautiful in penury.

Mylapore Mardigras

When watermelons and tender coconut adorn the side walk we know summer has atlast arrived. This time around Mylapore pavements had more than just the thirst quenchers. An entire ecosystem mushroomed within a day to celebrate the annual festival of Mylapore. People seem more active than bees and ants. It was definitely an awe moment.

The gaint pandal at the entrance of the temple was welcoming and it set the stage for a grand gala festival. Mylapore has always been the epicenter of cultural and religious groups. Be it music, arts, street plays, or cultural fair there is something that this temple neighborhood offers for everyone even today. Though barricades and pandals erected on each of the four maadaveedhis made commute a nightmare, but still people were willing to put up the inconvenience to watch the fun and frolic unfold.

The Annual Panguni festival at Kapali temple began on March 24 this year with the traditional flag hoisting in the temple premises.


Shiva along with Parvati is taken on a procession along the four maadaveedhis each day at night. During these days Myalpore air is filled with a special concoction of soothing music emanating from the traditional wind instrument (Nadhaswaram), recitation of Sama vedam and hymns from various puranams by Oduvars. The burning of incense on the side and strong scent of jasmine from the sidewalk vendors makes this place spiritually and culturally invigorating.

The vahanas for the procession change every day. Traditionally it starts with Suriya prabhai and Chandra prabhai on the first two days of the festival. Adhikaranandhi on the third, Vrishabaha vahanam on the fifth, the car on the seventh, procession of 63 Nayanmars (Arupathimoovar) on the eight day draws scores of people from all over the city. The final day concludes with the celebration of the traditional marriage between Shiva and Parvathi (falls on the day of Uthiram star).

The festival is a big 10 day entertainment feast for all the kids and elderly. Within the temple premises oldies throng to hear the concerts and spiritual lectures, while artist from the nearby villages perform folk arts to entreat people on the streets. The little ones go around the streets and bring back a handful of items that include balloons, watches, sugar candy, flutes in exchange for a small change from their piggy bank.

The festival brings together an entire ecosystem of art, culture, music and religion filled with fun and frolic. Apart from sidewalks being turned into “Water or Buttermilk Pandal” for the Car and the Arupathimoovar festival every inch of the sidewalk is turned into a shop that sells trinkets, coconuts, flowers, incense, peacock feathers, cheap jewellery, and rangoli patterns and heaps of colors. Narikoravas, a diminishing trible also throng the temple city to display their intricate handwork that range from tuft of fox hair to ward of evil at home, catapult to hunt down birds, and chains made from colorful beads. Paramapatham and thayakkattai (Snakes & Ladders) and Pallankuzhi are hot sellers at fair.

It has been more than 25 years since I attended one and there seems no change in the
celebration. There is more fervor and flavor with which the festival is celebrated today
and tradition intact. When one would think that fast lifestyle and western influence will
pigeon hole and dilute such festivals, but on the contrary attendance is increasing year after year. This very festival connects people all over the city and the globe. The very utterance of
the word Arupathimoovar transcends peoples’ thoughts across latitudes and longitudes
and makes them feel connected and charged. Somethings last forever!!

A Journey on Time Machine – Five Point Someone

What if you were made to walk down the memory lane? Am I sounding that old or am I making you feel old? What if you were reminded about your college days? The eleventh hour exam preparations, absconding from class and taking refuge in cinema halls, smoking pot on the hostel terrace, falling in love with your HOD’s daughter and showing up for class half intoxicated, stealing exam papers. These were a few sequences in the play staged by Madras Players an adapted from Chetan Bhagat’s “Five Point Someone”. Nostalgia crept in after along time and it really made me crave for the halcyon days.

Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but life is a comedy when seen in long shot. Those were the words of the famous comedian Charlie Chaplin.

The play made me sit back, reminiscent and enjoy my college days. Call it chewing the cud or laugh at the comedy in retrospect, it only made my heart lighter at the end of the day filled with deadlines at work.

The story is about the three Musketeers – Infectious Ryan, the infection Harish, and nincompoop Alok – the three room mates’ journey at IIT Delhi. Ryan is the care free type who doesn’t give a shit about exams, and professors, Alok the over weight kid who sweats from eyebrow to groin with the mere utterance of the words exam and assignment, and the Harish is the pendulum who swings from between Alok and Ryan. Their personality traits are brought out in the very scene before and after their semester through out the story. Since I had not read the book till the end of the first semester I was not sure why the book was named “Five point someone”, but then it all became evident when the trio trying to beat/cope up with the grading system.

The script brings out clearly the fear inculcated in our education system. The fear from failure in semester exams and fear of not getting a decent job apart from financial and emotional responsibility at a very young age pushes students like Alok over the edge from the Hostel terrace. This makes us curse our exam system and society for its undue pressure and over expectations from the student community. Why does success in life have to be measured based on academic degrees?

What can bring spice to monotonous college routine, sadistic professors and pedagogical lectures? Well, Neha, the HoD’s daughter brings a whiff of fresh air to the story when our eyes just became cloudy. For once there is a romance scene in Indian play without a song. Harish and Neha’s love interesting develops a few more knots in the story and makes you move to the front of the seat. The plot becomes more tearful when the letter Neha holds from her brother Samir springs up in the middle of the play.

The tirade waged against Commerce graduates was hilarious. The dialogues and conversation with Harish’s alter ego brings out best in men and women when it comes to commitment. There is enough humor to keep us in our seats for two hours without wiggling.

All play no work policy of Ryan, Harish trying to impress the HoD for his daughter and Alok trying to care more for his family forces the trio to adopt unfair means in the examination. Professor Veera’s patronage was like the rain shower on a toasty summer evening. He brings back the lives of the three students on track and springs some hope in the story.


All in 5 lines: Promising Youngsters on the horizon
Ryan – the cool cat, Alok- the stress ball, Harish – the sweaty socks must be given a big round of applause. The 3 youngsters definitely made the audience relive and experience their college days once again. Rest of the crew was good, nothing exemplary. Props by Mahesh need a special mention. I have not read the book and hence I don’t know how much of justice was done to the original script, but as a stand alone theatre play FPS is definitely a must watch.


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