Namma Bengaluru

Everyone has a favorite line when it comes to big cities, especially those in which they have spent their youth and moved on since. It starts with “Back in those days the city was peaceful.” I am not a Bangalorite by birth and neither did I spend my youth there, but I have been visiting the city since 1980 with increasing regularity in the 90s and I actually spent 3 years working there before moving to Coimbatore. I could say with complete conviction that Bangalore has not changed so much as metamorphosed into a new city and much of the irritation is the rush associated with that change.  There simply wasn’t enough time to digest the change!

I started visiting Bangalore in the early eighties. My first visit was for a noble cause; to visit Ramada, the only pub in Bangalore serving draught beer at that time. Chennai was always a poor cousin when it came to pubs. So a bunch of our friends made the pilgrimage and drank to our hearts’ content at the pub which was at the corner of Church Street and a gully joining MG Road. These visits continued as more pubs came on to the screen and now we all know Bangalore as the “Pub Capital of India.”

Traffic is a pet grouse for Bangalorites and even in the 80s traffic was not something you could rave about. The roads were without dividers and many of the bridges we have now weren’t there. But with all that Bangalore to Hosur took about 50 minutes  and it is ironic that after 30 years, with all the bridges, service roads and elevated corridor it still roughly takes the same time!

The ubiquitous “Dharshinis” and “Sagars” served some pretty decent food and for Rs.10, you could get a plate of two large sized idlis and a mammoth sized vada. Coffee of course is the highlight in Bangalore, big or small coffee is almost always awesome in Bangalore. For the same quality of coffee you would end up paying more than double in a fancy restaurant in Chennai or Coimbatore.

Bangalore now is the IT capital of India and is home to a horde of enterprising and bright group of youngsters who have travelled wide and are comfortable in swanky malls and with luxury brands.  It still has decent green cover compared to other cities. The people are still warm and helpful and despite the jarring notes created by politicians, namma Bengaluru is still retains much of the goodness.

The essence of Bengaluru has been captured in a series of Bangalore T Shirts by Swag Swami. 

All in a day’s quiz II

Disaster has a twin!

A week after the encounter with the dancing-bather, Prof. Rangarajan asked me to assist with a quiz for an organization promoting Science amongst school children and provided a contact.

My contact told me that I would have to just read out the questions from the sheet and that was it. I was happy, a simple one. I go, read out a few questions, make a few funny comments, and come back.

The first let-downer was that the venue was a good 30+ Kms from my house. The second was that it was on a Saturday, a working day for me. I planned to be back at work by 11 am.

On quiz day, I rode all the way to the school where the quiz was to be done and counted 6 teachers and 7 students. I called my contact and he told me that he was busy with other locations and would get back later.

I had bought a dark Louis Philippe shirt and a matching pant the previous day and wore them proudly. For about half an hour (seemed a very long time), I stood at the edge of the crowd (?) and waited for someone to recognize and greet me. More teachers and students arrived, but still no luck. They all avoided me like plague.

Finally, one guy peeled off from the crowd and greeted me. The conversation went thus:

Me: Hi

He: (Nodding his head) Why are you here?

Me: (I was taken aback by the tone and rudeness of the question) to conduct the quiz...

He: English?

Me: Yes.

He: I am also English … (after a pause) I am a chartered accountant.

A gentleman thrust a bunch of papers in my hand said “questions” and left.

To evade the Englishman, I glanced at the questions, and was shocked to see 3 sets of question papers, each with 8 sections, each section with 10 questions including a printed visual round in which all the people and objects were in varying shades of black. I asked the Englishman about the 3 sets. He sniggered and said “don’t you know?” One each for 6-8/9-10/+2. I had a very bad feeling about this. “And there is a Tamil quiz also” he added helpfully.

I did some quick math. That was 240 questions per language!! The “paperman” appeared and whisked the visual sheets away remarking “will copy and return.”

Englishman grabbed the remaining papers from my hands and said “I will see.” (The same tone Charlton Heston used when he parted the Red Sea as Moses). He started to number them though they were already numbered and stapled neatly. After this, he hugged the papers close to his chest like a college girl (for various reasons)hugging her books. I cunningly offered to let him do the quiz all by himself but he said “I do Tamil, you do English” Tamil had a full-house and English had a motley bunch (clever man!).

Resigned to my fate, I went up. There were 2 teams in 6-8 and 9-10, but only one team in +2. I felt lucky. I suggested that they be declared winners immediately and we get on with other two segments. My contact arrived and firmly told me that even if one team, I have to read out all the questions. Mind you, both Prof. and I agreed to this in good faith and were doing this out of goodwill (read no money). I gritted my teeth and got on with the +2 section…

Most questions were framed badly and I had to speak English in Tamil most of the time. Strangely, more questions were answered by the lower grades than the non-competing, already-winner team!

I got on with the other two sections, interrupted only by a teacher from one of the schools helping her pupils with answers in a stage whisper now and then. Her school won a thrilling victory in the final round. After a break for sugary tea and oily vadas, which I passed, I completed the last segment. Paperman did not bring in the visual rounds after copying and I thought that was my piece of luck.

The questions were a different story. One round on Tamil literature (?) in a science quiz. Here are two samples.

1. Where is the most beautiful beach in the world? (Ans- Marina Chennai – don’t ask me why).
2. Where was the first World Classical Tamil conference held (Ans – A month ago in Coimbatore – that was a tough one right?)

I rushed out, submitted the results and bid goodbye. Englishman was quizzing to a full-house and going strong. My contact offered me lunch, I declined. He told me they were holding it in 3 locations (one of which much nearer to town), adding helpfully that he had other people taking care of that but no one wanted to come so far. I fixed a smile firmly on my face and ran away.

As I kick-started my self-start bike, a crow shat allover my new shirt … I almost cried out in agony but ended up in a primeval grunt. A lady teacher passing by with her students stared at me and pulled her wards closer. I raced back to work…

I was in a foul mood throughout the day but thinking back, the one silver lining was the eager faces of children participating. For that, I suppose I can brave the heat, travel, rude people, and an occasional diarrheal crow!

All in a day's quiz!!

Quizzing is loads of fun … but only when somebody does loads of work to make it fun!!! Here is a snapshot of life as a QM in these hard times…

Last week, I had been talked into hosting a quiz for a local eco warrior NGO. The invite came from a fellow club member and his dad turned out to be a good friend of mine from ‘80s, a fellow Rotaracter.

It was pro-bono but I dreamt of an audience from varied backgrounds united for a common cause and serious about saving Mother Earth … APJ visiting made it irresistible (I later came to know that he had left a day earlier!):(

I shaved, dressed in formals, and was in the venue a good 30 minutes before the event, to be greeted by an assortment of school kids and a few retired types sparsely populating the densely arranged chairs. The monsoon wind was blowing dust into the pandal and a generously built young boy was undulating to one of the latest Vijay songs! Wondering about the connection between Vijay and environment I recollected a movie where he fought against mining mafia!! (Sura, Era, or Pura, can’t remember)

I was informed that quiz was after a presentation on "water conservation in ancient India." I felt sleepy and was sure the audience would be so by the end of it, so started preparing a few punch lines to wake them up. My club mates turned up to help and we went around the stalls.

The much feared presentation wound on … one of our guys told me that he had seen/heard this 3 times in the past year. I admired his tranquility and tolerance and went up the stage to set up my laptop. Lo… my friend the organizer told me they would be another short but very interesting item on menu…dance? Song? Mimicry? Nopes, this would be a daring feat to emphasize the importance of water conservation…. A guy would take bath on the stage in 1-1/2 liters of water (about a Coke and half) Suddenly, the water conservation ppt looked better!

I was told he would soap twice & shampoo twice using that little amount of water… there was a sound of oooh… from the audience. The MC invited all children in the stalls to come and see this important event and they came flocking… A guy grabbed the mike from me and started by saying that this “achievement” was unique and self-taught and what more… for the first time exclusively for this audience he will do it in 1-1/2 liters, half a liter less than previously done!!

I stood haplessly while a young man in full suit set up his tools of the trade. I was imagining some tubes recycling water; he just spread a gunny sack and was ready.

On cue, music started and he started to remove his clothes… I was glaring at him now (later my friends told me it was a sight to see me up there looking aghast!) Pronto… he was down to his Crocodile/Jockey/VIP and twisted sinuously. Some started tapping their feet to the music. I jumped down to join my friends. The show went on and true to the word he did take bath in 1-1/2 liters of water (soap twice/shampoo twice) to accompanying music and commentary “now he is soaping himself, first face, next body, last legs” Every time he finished soaping/shampooing, there was a round of applause.. Some kids were capturing this timeless moment on their mobile phones and one girl on a camcorder. I was reminded of morning shows of Malayalam pics in my college days…

Finally, the show was over … to thunderous applause. The MC was proud to announce that there would be a repeat show in the evening for those who missed the current one (more applause). I was on stage now ready to start. The young man had wrapped himself in a towel. I started to speak when the rude dude grabbed the mike again and requested that since the bather is also a dancer, he be allowed a chance to display (?) his talents… I had visions of Helen in various films but sanity prevailed and they postponed it. I grabbed my chance and started the quiz….

I made an obvious statement that while I would like to compete with the previous show I was not brave enough to remove my clothes and quiz (anemic laughter). The crowd had halved by now and they left vociferously debating finer points on what they had just seen. (Oru masam oru bucket da.....)

I was pretty disappointed that I had lost out on the popularity stakes but consoled myself with these thoughts…

1. What are your chances against Pamela Undresson?
2. You can’t beat statistics. Look at Internet search stats and you know what I mean.
3. People know their priority. When helmets were first used in cricket, it was considered unmanly to wear one but the same blokes had been using abdomen guards for ages!!

By the way… the quiz went well and I received a gift voucher with which I have bought a book I always wanted to… “Get your body back in shape in 30 days!”

Next time when I am the quiz master …. perhaps…..


Disclaimer: To be taken at fun value only. Any exaggeration is purely the result of my cynical mind!

Let me know......

Let me know….


I was in Chennai a month back and met with a bunch of my schoolmates from MCCHSS. It was a special occasion as I had not seen some of them for close to 25 years! (That makes us feel like oldies!!)

Anyways, there was this bunch of friends one is into running guest houses, another importing machinery for industries, yet another is a garment exporters, one is a wildlife enthusiast, and there was a doctor who is an authority in his field. We met in MCC (Madras Cricket Club) and the original program was a 2-hour session where we would drink and when drinks permit, talk.

We assembled on time around 7 pm. Punctuality was nonexistent when we were in school so either life had thought us something new or the lure of drinks was too great! Straightaway, we were into catch-up and gossip. Fellow classmates, teachers, none were spared.

By the time we ended this shebang, it was 2 am and a good 6 hours of drinking at more than 2 drinks an hour was accomplished. (We have a reputation to keep!!)

Couple of cricketers, a former race driver, and sundry others who looked familiar floated by.

The occasion was memorable for me as I was at the wrong end of a joke, but it was too good so I narrate it for your benefit….

As each took turns at narrating their life history, mostly for my benefit as they see each other quite often, my turn came and I went on to tell them my various avatars as a medical rep, diagnostic rep, borewell operator, stock broker, medical transcriptionist, and to my present position as a business development manager for my company…. quick as greased lightening the good doctor said “when you get around to prostitution do let me know… I would be interested!!!”
That was too good a quip and I was glad that I went to school with a bunch of guys who have kept their sense of humor alive and kicking!

Vanakkam - Huan Ying - Mabuhay!

Having read about and worked with Philippines and Filipinos for the better part of two years, I had a chance to visit Philippines recently. Here are a few highlights.

We were to fly Coimbatore – Bangalore – Hong Kong – Manila. Coimbatore airport reminded me of a crowded railway station, but I felt good and superior with the thought of the journey ahead. That is, until I noticed a guy sitting across the lounge (?) He wore a dirty dhoti and a crumpled shirt but had a very costly mobile phone. This gave me an immediate complex as mine is a base model LG. Worse; he was busy issuing commands to people in 3 different countries in Tamil. I heard a loud “pop.” I guess that was my ego bursting.

Noted: A bunch of 6 guys who were traveling to Kathmandu to retrieve the body of their relative who had died in Nepal in an accident.

The Kingfisher aircraft looked like an oversized Volvo bus but for the presentable airhostesses. I paid keen attention to the safety instructions but did not have any faith that should the aircraft decide not to fly in mid-air, I would have enough time to execute any instructions from the demo including the “brace, brace!!!”

I was reassured by Mr. Mallya via the drop-down monitor that I was a privileged guest (sort of re-inflated my ego). I was beginning to trust my life on the hands of the massive Kenyan who was our pilot when we had sudden turbulence and the aircraft was given a violent jolt. I looked to the airhostess for reassurance but saw only a frown. I immediately thought about the travel insurance my company had taken and worked out quickly that it would be unprofitable to die given my age and pending service. But soon things were back to normal and we landed in Bangalore with all our body parts intact.

The new Bangalore airport is quite impressive, especially when you compare it to Coimbatore!! After dinner, we checked in, went through customs, and after a thorough body frisk (must be a gay man’s dream job!) stepped into an international crowd. We had 4 more hours and my colleague was by now running a cold and cough so to stay away from him, I wandered around.

Things I noted during my wanderings:

You can tell a not so frequent flier by

Number of times they check the flight timings and gate on the display screens (I did so about 10 times)

Number of times they check their passport and boarding pass (I had memorized mine)

Number of documents they clutch on to when all that is needed is the boarding pass (I had a file on my hand with documents which covered the entire round trip)

Loud talk – This is actually to allay their nervousness.

Noted also, one Japanese girl walking up to the machine that weighs hand baggage (with dimensions specified) and jump in to check her weight!!

Cricket was on and we were defeated by Bravo and Windies. A collective groan goes up and suddenly I notice check-in personnel, cleaners, airline personnel, and security staff move away. I could count more than 30 guys who were not at their stations or had found an excuse to be near the TV to watch cricket! We are like this only!

Boarding called. The voice pleasantly welcomed all First Class, Business Class, One World, Emerald Class, Sapphire Class, and Marco Polo Class passengers and gushed how it was a pleasure to have them aboard again. The voice also considerately told them they can board at their leisure. As an afterthought, the voice reminded the “rest of us” sternly to go up to boarding counter only when their rows are called. I felt rebellion in my guts and told my colleague we will gatecrash whether they call us or not. Not so surprisingly, others have had the same idea and it was a mess at the boarding counter. We are like this only!

I was inside Dragon Air flight KA153 and was ready to fly. I had prayed very hard for a suitable neighbor during the flight. I was not particular as long as it was a lady, young, good looking, and spoke English. We both had chosen different window seats with this very fond hope!

The aircraft was filling in and finally my neighbor walked in…….. but that is another story and to be told in detail in the next installment!

Crowning Glory (or) A Day at the Saloon

Recently, I took my daughter to this swanky saloon where they charge you like crazy but make you feel like an emperor for the duration of the service (More money paid, more time as emperor!).

I spent a nervous first five minutes feeling out of place but gradually felt bold enough to request a service brochure. (There is a separate section catering to men).

Before you could say Yul Brenner… I was hooked and was mentally calculating what it would take to join the long line of royalty that ambled in and out.

I must mention here that hitherto, my expectation from a barber were minimalist in nature. I expected him to cut my hair without any visible damage and if I felt like splurging, I had a shave too! I had one rule “Do not twist my neck violently” If the guy did not heed to this rule I do not visit him again!

But I am digressing and should get back. Having gotten hooked, I boldly and recklessly awarded myself a hair-cut and bleach and announced this rather pompously to the receptionist!

Immediately, she swung into action and a shortish guy resembling a wrestler took me by the arm and pulled me towards the inner hall. I was beginning to feel nervous but sort of settled down when I spotted a rather thin guy with a shock of white hair getting his hair dyed in the next chair. If he can survive that I surely can survive this!!!

I have very thin hair to start with and losing whatever I have rapidly. My daughter tells me that I might soon have to pay the barber a “search fee” in addition to his normal charges!!

The dialogue between me and my enthusiastic barber went thus:

Me: I want my hair cut short…

Barber: Sir, I don’t think that would look good on you (he said this in a voice that brooked no arguments and I gave in immediately)

Me: Okay

Barber: I am going to cut your hair short on the back but leave it long in front. That would look good. (Voice of an expert … voice of authority… voice of a guy who knew his job… and his client.)

Me: Okay

He went ahead and gave me a great hair cut (an opinion that was not shared by my wife unfortunately).

Next, I was guided into a smallish room where pictures of girls in various stages of undress were pinned to the walls. The pleasant thoughts evoked by them were immediately offset by the strange looking implements scattered around the room. There was something that looked like a mask of “Darth Vader” and an implement that looked like garden shears. It was a room which would have done Torquemada proud!!

In spite of my misgivings, the bleaching session went so well that I fell asleep. I was woken up and after the necessary cleaning up, a mirror was held to reflect (pun intended) on the glory that was my face. I could observe no change from the original but having calculated the amount I was going to pay tried in vain to look at some positives and convinced myself that I looked a shade fairer!

With the same firm hand, he took me to the receptionist who looked like a butcher ready to deliver the coup-de-grace to an unsuspecting lamb and she announced that the charges were Rs.250 plus VAT, I paid.

While waiting for my daughter to finish her grooming, I came to the conclusion that all in all, it was a very enjoyable experience barring the overruling of my opinion on my hairstyle. In fact, I was beginning to feel good and was positively beaming by the time my daughter came out.

Like all good things, this feeling did not last and when my daughter came over and explained that she had decided to add a facial and a manicure to her hair-cut and demanded 700 bucks for the same, it had completely evaporated.

While I was in bed that night thinking about the day, I concluded that it was not all bad actually…. after all…you can make money anytime but how long can your hair last?

Just before I drifted off to sleep, I made a promise…. Next time herbal facial!!!!

Father of 14 (or) The Power of a Comma

Every profession has a way of impacting one’s personal life. Those who work on mill houses become hard of hearing and welders end up with bum eyes in the long run.

More subtle but long lasting are the changes brought about by the so-called white collar jobs. The effect is not merely physical but gets ingrained into our psyche.

Take the case of doctors… we look at Namitha and worry about our blood pressure… a doctor looks at her and worries about her blood pressure!

Being a medical transcriptionist completely changes the way you read. I used to read Sherlock Holmes and dream about sleepy English villages before. Now, I am more concerned about the proofreading errors and punctuations!

Speaking of punctuations, the below incident left me enlightened about the power of a comma, and a reputation I do not care to boast of!!

I often chat with our vendors in Philippines on Skype. One of them (let us call him Jude) became pretty friendly with me.

Last week, Jude popped me to convey that he had been offered the post of country manager for a retail chain and has accepted. As a result, he would be stepping out of medical transcription for the time being.

This man is a firm believer in both God and man and has been taken on a ride by both on more than one occasion. So, I quoted an old Arab proverb “Have faith in Allah, but tie up your camel.”

We both had agreed on how appropriate this proverb is and as we were preparing to say our goodbyes, I conveyed my wishes to his family.

He in turn wished me and my family well and “wanted to convey his wishes to my 14 daughters…..”

I nearly fell out of my chair and inquired whether he had been drinking early in the morning… he replied in the negative and said in a surly voice that all he wanted to do was greet them and not marry them!!

I was thoroughly confused by now and wanted to know where he got this crazy idea from… he pointedly said “from you man … you told me you have 14 daughters.”

I checked myself to see if I was drunk and not being so, proceeded to question his sanity.

He told me in a most emphatic way that I had told him I had 14 daughters and in fact typed it out. So I went back to my Skype history and went through the saved transcripts.

Suddenly… there it was…. I was hit by a thunderbolt!

The conversation in question went like this…

Jude: I have one daughter who is 7.

Me: (I never waste words) Daughter 14.

The comma was missing!! I meant daughter, 14 but missed the comma.

I was thoroughly humiliated and clarified the error to Jude. Immediately, his mood improved and in fact, he laughed out quite wildly for a couple of minutes.

When I got around to seeing the funny side, I laughed too, and we both agreed that it would have been a unique achievement if this had been indeed true.

Jude told me he often wondered before he fell asleep about how I had managed the feat. 14 Children by themselves are unique but 14 daughters in a row? Mind blowing!!

I remarked that I would have been a very tired man if this had happened and he wholeheartedly agreed. We both entered into a discussion about how TV affects the marital life and how Tamil Nadu has a high TV obsession and the government had doled out free TVs to the poor and lowest birth rate. He inquired if the same free TV model could be tried out in a couple of areas of Philippines and I promised to refer him to the concerned authorities.

Feigning disinterest, I inquired whether he had informed anyone else about my faux pas and he said only about 40 people so far…. I cursed him in my mind and remarked that that was half the population of his town … and he quipped back saying that Filipinos and Indians being alike when it comes to gossip… the other half would know by nightfall and by daybreak, the entire Philippines would have a rough idea.

I added a few sarcastic remarks about his ancestry and legality of his birth but he was in too good a mood to reply and kept laughing.

I know defeat when it stares me in my face and kicks me in the family jewels so I said my goodbye and quit.

That, my friend, is how I became father of 14 by the power of a comma.