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Showing posts from April, 2010

The House in Gobichettipalayam

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Sashtiapthapoorthi Function — Me in the front (with eyes closed) My summers were spent in Pudukkottai and Gobichettipalayam — Gobi, as we called it. Away from school and homework, those months were filled with the easy warmth of grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. Summer was the time to let loose. Gobi Home We would take the overnight train from Bangalore to Erode, and from there a bus to Gobichettipalayam — Gobi. We usually arrived early in the morning at Seethammal Colony. My paati, already awake and waiting near the door, would greet us as soon as she heard the metal gate creak open. The smell of freshly brewed filter coffee would drift out from the kitchen. I would run straight into her arms. “Vaada Kannu,” she would say, her eyes beaming with happiness. “Vaada Krishna, Vaa Raji,” she would call out to my parents. Slowly, the rest of the house would stir. People in the living room would wake, and within minutes the house would be buzzing wi...

Mr. Iyengar

It was not the best way for him to spend the rest of his life.  Rather, it was not the worst way either.  Mr. Srinivasan Iyengar was sitting at the courtyard of his house observing the usual day to day activities.  Except for a few aberrations, life seemed to move on in exactly the same way as the previous day and the day before.  Mr. Iyengar was meticulous with his time, a stickler to perfection, and a man, for whom honesty and integrity were virtues that occupied the highest echelons in his dictionary.  When I say that Mr. Iyengar was meticulous with time, it is not that he followed up every activity at the exact specified hour.  In fact, he was so used to the activities around him that he could call out the time just by looking around him.  As the vegetable vendor dragged his wares on a cart past the house, Mr. Iyengar would sub-consciously be guided into the house, and people at home instantly knew that it was time for his morning breakfast.  ...

Drawing the line

It is a fact of life that it is never easy to draw the line when it comes to a myriad of things.  Even if there is a thick line between contentment and greed, it is amusing to find that certain individuals find ways to be on the wrong side of the line.  Now, what's the wrong side? The Indian Premier League (IPL) has thrown open a can of worms bringing to the forefront the involvement of politicians, financiers, famous personalities, and almost every biggie directly or indirectly.  The final entity of the IPL happens to be the sportsperson himself, when he actually should have been the primary, speaks a lot about the way the tournament is designed.  I, personally, have nothing against the IPL.  It is a dream tournament for every cricket fan, who longs to see stars from various countries share the same dressing room in this city based format.  It is an English Premiere League like concept, where the best of footballers from all parts of the world represent ...