OF GOLDEN PROMISES AND SHATTERED DREAMS...

People are officially declared dead when there is no twitching of limbs. When heat in the body is replaced by deathly cold. When breathing has devolved to nothingness. Even in such situations, near and dear ones lose their sagacity and develop denial as a defence mechanism, refusing to accept the death of their beloved. What happens then, if a town is declared dead? How then are poor miners, who gave their blood and breath, literally (as this is what silicosis does) to the mines, expected to accept that their town, once rich with its gold fields, is a dead town?

What struck me odd when I set foot into Kolar was its stillness. The silence that blanketed the village was unnerving. It was undoubtedly a change from the frantic frenzy that characterized Chennai. It was birds, monkeys, fresh air, mountains and a blue sky that greeted me in Kolar. Yet, there was something strange about the town. The quietude was almost ghostly. There were hardly any signs of employment.

The Kolar Gold Fields, popularly known as KGF, is often referred to as a ghost town. Right from 2001 when Bharat Gold Mines Ltd (BGML) closed down operations and miners were forced to retire, KGF has worn a deserted look. Travelling through different parts of KGF- Coramandel, Oorgaum, Champion Reef or Marikuppam which marks the end of KGF, it is not uncommon to see people sitting outside small houses or huts, having vacant expressions on their faces , moving amidst hens and cattle and essentially, having a lot of time at their disposal . This is the situation that people of KGF face- a result of long periods of unemployment. The few people who are moving about are those that are desperate to not miss their train to Hosur, Mysore or Bangalore as it could mean a loss of money. Their only way of making a livelihood is to travel to the richer parts of Karnataka and work as coolies or painters – in short, to pursue any work that gives them the bare minimum required, in order to make their ends meet and ensure them two square meals a day.

This is where I ran into Albert, in Marikuppam. I was about to apologise when I realised that there was something odd about him- two eyes, two ears, a nose, a mouth, two hands - yes—all there and intact. Then what was it that was odd about him? Was it his sunken eyes, a tiredness on his face that cannot quite be taken care of by a mere few hours of rest, lines of worry on his forehead? But no. Lines of worry were characteristic of people in KGF. It was Albert’s feet, rather, the lack of them that resulted in a conversation with him. Like every other person in Kolar, Albert too had a story to tell- Of once mining for gold and now, looking for any job that he could do despite being a handicap so that he would be assured a survival.

A miner for 18 years, Albert’s life was not easy. Three young children and a wife, an unmarried sister, a perennially worried mother and a father suffering from silicosis is not easy to deal with, especially if there is only earning member in the family. This is however the reality that Albert,a miner working in the Kolar Gold Fields, faced.

“Initially, it was my father who was working in the mines. I remember as a child, how I’d see him come back home, drenched in sweat, and tired out, everyday,” says Albert. “He used to work in the mines until he was diagnosed with silicosis- a disease which affects the lungs and is caused by long-term exposure to fine silica dust from the mines. Later, as the disease began taking a toll on him, he told BGML authorities that he could no longer continue working in the mines. This was in 1967, and Albert’s family moved to Vellore. Later, the authorities offered employment to the children of miners who worked with them.

“As the question of my father working in the mines was no longer a possibility due to silicosis steadily wearing him down, I began working in the mines, much to my mother’s discomfiture which was not unwarranted. After all, she was seeing my father dying a slow and painful death as silicosis tightened its pincer-like grip on him. However, my cousin who was also working in the mines convinced my mother to send me for work. Keeping in mind our financial constraints and the fact that our family was a large one, my mother permitted me to go for work. It was not like we had any other option. Death was certain either way- death due to silicosis or death due to starvation if we didn’t have money to fetch us a square meal a day. It was only a question of which was less painful,” he adds.

Silicosis is something which haunts Albert even today. Try as he might, he can never forget how his father suffered. The spasms of pain, the amount of blood he vomited with each cough , incessant coughing, a continual burning sensation in the chest due to ceaseless coughing, acute shortage of breath – his father suffered from all of these due to silicosis. Till date, if someone around Albert starts coughing incessantly and has continual breathing problems, his old nightmare about silicosis comes back to haunt him and he vividly remembers the pain and suffering his father had endured, until death was kind enough to grant him respite from a physically and mentally fatigued life.

It has been a decade since the mines have shut down. However, nothing has changed- be it the status of people’s unemployment, lack of housing and health facilities, or a better livelihood. Says Albert, “I was toiling away in the mines when one day I heard rumours that the mines would be shut down as they were running at a loss. I tried hard not to believe it. However, it became a reality. Call it a quirk of fate, but on the day the official announcement came, I was about to board a train which would take me to Coramandel and I missed the landing and met with an accident which resulted in my losing both my legs. Thus, I had no option but to remain at home. The same day, an announcement was made that the mines were closing down. My fellow miners were forced to retire. We were promised around five lakhs as part of the Voluntary Retirement Scheme, but we’ve barely got a lakh and that too, only after seven years of shutting down the mines. We’ve been given houses to live in. Though the houses are in our names, we are not permitted to sell them or rent them. Initially, when the houses were given to us, it was enough for most families as they had only two or three members. Now, with the lapse of time, families have grown in numbers and when we try to build extensions to our houses using the little money we can scrounge up, security is sent to our areas to forbid us from building extensions to our houses.”

As Albert is unable to work due to his handicap, it is his sons who have to work, in order to ensure the survival of their family. Two of Albert’s children work as coolie workers in Hosur and Mysore. However, their earnings go towards their own children and family. Thus, the only way Albert is able to run his family is through the earnings of his youngest son who gives him around Rs.2000 a month. Apart from this, all Albert has to fall back on is Rs.1000 which he gets as pension allowed for the handicapped and Rs.700 from BGML.

Talks of re-opening the mines are in progress. However, until then, life for residents of Kolar will continue in the same vein. This might be Albert’s story. However, it mirrors the everyday trials and tribulations of every other person in KGF.

“Harati nimeshat kalaha sarvam’’ roughly translated as “Time destroys everything in a moment” – this is what Adi Shankaracharya said in the Bhaja Govindam and how very true he is! Few people believe in karma. The truth that a person’s karma from their past can catch up with them many births later as expounded in the Hindu philosophy is something not many people believe in. As for the ones who do believe in this theory, they are often looked upon with disdain and condescending looks of “aww, poor you, you’ve gone off the rocker”. This in short, is also what we nonchalantly term as fate. Undeniably, the ways of fate are impossible to discern and inexplicably terrifying. Things we have no logical reasons or answers to, we tend to term as fate. What else then, can explain the tragic case of Ishan Srinivasan, my brother who drowned while trying to save a friend? He had everything going uphill for him – an extremely close knit and loving family, popularity, friends and above all, he was an amazing person. A good human being. Why then, did he drown in a lake he had swum in so many times before? Why then, did he drown while trying to save a friend who had the support of a life jacket? These questions can never be answered. Nor will answering them mitigate the loss of a brother whose death has come as a horrible shock to me and whose death I feel miserable over.

People often say that in this yuga of Kali, in this era where darkness and evil threaten to overwhelm human existence; courage in the face of adversity, self sacrifice in the face of danger, compassion, being selfless and benevolent when it really matters are aspects which are conspicuous by their sheer absence, even nonexistence. I however, beg to differ. My brother died at 21, an age when life begins and is definitely not an age when it is snuffed out into oblivion. He died because he put the lives of his friends above his own. Kali Yuga is not an era of evil and pessimism alone as people believe it to be. It is an era where there is a glimmer of hope for humanity, for altruism. It is an age where the concluding line of Shelly’s ‘Ode to the West Wind’ makes sense – “if winter comes, can spring be far behind? “ While darkness and evil may well be the prevailing aspects of the Kali, goodness is not entirely nonexistent. Yes, I feel miserable that my brother died at a stage when he was on the threshold of life. He had so much to accomplish, so much to establish, so much to enjoy and above all, so very much to live for. I am not a huge fan of martyrs, but I have to admit it, I am proud of him- my brother died a hero, he died a martyr.

Over the last few months, I have been living in my own delusional world of what I perceived to be significant. I had a fallout with someone I fallaciously and unwisely believed was close to me. I worried over inconsequential things like assessments, assignments, paltry squabbles with people, work and more. However, my brother’s untimely death has put everything in perspective. He might not have lived long, yet I know he touched many lives, both while living and even as he was dying.

Ishan, my brother, I salute you. Rest in Peace.



http://www.thestar.com/news/article/997879--mississauga-man-drowned-worrying-about-his-friend

PSBB- A WAY OF LIFE

It's been a year since I left the portals of my school PSBB; a name oft heard being discussed by people for various reasons. As the adage goes, time and tide indeed wait for none. I'm amazed to find that a whole year in college is done and dusted and I have but two more years to go before I have to shed my 'carefree and irresponsible ways' and become an 'adult' in the true meaning of the word. College is truckloads of fun. Being typical human beings, we always have grudges about anything and everything. It is only when we are away from it do we realize how much we miss it. Same is the case with me with respect to my Alma mater PSBB. While at school, I always had grudges against small things. Now being in college a whole year has brought me a lot of fun albeit, there are times when I miss PSBB terribly.

The inevitable list:

A FEW THINGS P.S.B.B:
1) Shri gurubhyo namaha, sukhi bhava: the typical P.S.B.B way of students greeting teachers and teachers blessing them in return. It has a very unique ring to it.

2) Morning assemblies with TM which never failed to induce its soporific effect on us.

3) Elections : the clichéd yet delightful period in school where every section of the 12th would be actively involved in ensuring that their candidate would be a shoo-in for the post of school prefect. The school would be transformed into a colorful canvass …. The banners, the posters et al...

4) YGP- YGP

5) Anniversaries – truly unforgettable.

6) Reverberations- the 11th and 12th would enjoy it while the 9th and 10th wished that they were in the 11th or 12th.

7) Maargazhi Mahotsav- the school would come alive in December with religious sayings, shlokas and upanyasas by Velukudi Krishnan and many others. Mellifluous renditions of popular carnatic songs in the kutcheris, dance performances were the order of the day.

8) G.As- was, is and will always be synonymous with FUN. The enthusiasm from the students has always been overwhelming.

9) The canteen

10) Pattani Sundal Bonda Bajji

11) A few teachers and friends who are instrumental in making my memories in P.S.B.B immortal:
Mrs. Girija Krishnamurthy, Mrs.Girija Dilip (L.kg), Mrs. Vijayalakshmi Raman (if at first I loved English, as time lapsed, she made me feel immensely passionate about it), Mrs. Hemalatha Seshadri, Mrs. Rama Arunachalam, Mrs.Mahalakshmi Ramjee and Mrs.Pushpa Vijayaraghavan.
As for my friends, Sruthi more popularly known as SVR, Kirthika, better still as Kirukkuthika, Pavi (though for a very short time), Janani, Radhika (my partner in crime for many years), Jane, Priya, Aishwarya and Dhanya.

Over the years, I have always been unhappy with certain things at school. Like any other school, it has its own flaws. However, at the risk of being called melodramatic, I'm proud to be a PSBBian. PSBB has not been just a school to me; it has been a way of life. The school has indeed given me a lot, something I am more conscious of after passing out of it than while I was with it.

YOU KNOW THAT YOUR EXAMS ARE AROUND THE CORNER WHEN :

1. You are rummaging desperately through a heaped up mess in your room trying to find a book- your TEXTBOOK.

2) You start thinking more kindly about the gal in the first row and her notes.


3) You drink coffee four times a day – a tad surprising as you abhor coffee.

4) The clock strikes 9 and you begin to feel sleepy.

5) You promise yourself that you will study well in advance the next time around.(are you nuts??)

6) You find the courage, patience and resolve to finally open your Xeroxed notes and you start yawning your head off.

7) Your parents tell you to take a break from studying.

8) It takes half an hour for one sentence to sink into your head.

9) You take a 1 hour break for half an hour of studying

10) You start telling yourself off for bunking 9 out of 10 classes.

11) Your friend finds you at her doorstep on Friday evening b’cos you want to take a copy of the exam notes from her as opposed to your normal reason which happens to be partying.

12) It’s a Friday and you are desperately studying without welcoming the weekend.

13) You remember for the first time after coming to college that pens and pencils exist and decide to grace the stationery shop with your exalted presence.

14) You start dreaming about a blank answer sheet and a red spotted report card- and you never, ever dream.

15) You promise yourself (very idiotically) that you will start studying for the very next exam during your semester holidays.

16) You read this post and groan cos you know that you agree with what you’re reading

REAL(?)ity SHOWS
How far does the ‘Real’ quotient hold good?


Reality shows have perpetually been popular and since the last few years, a number of reality shows have come up, prominent ones being Indian Idol and Sa Re Ga Ma Pa, the American idol, etc . New age reality shows bring in staggering amounts of ratings by placing people in intimidating circumstances. Lot of laughs can be generated from installments of comical segments. Interest in the show by the viewers is sustained by showing the behind-the-scenes- activities of the participants. As mentioned afore, how far does the ‘real’ quotient hold good?

Majority of these shows emphatically state that they solely aim at ‘bringing out the best people in the country and unleashing their talent in the respective fields.’ How far is this true? Of late, these shows have been focusing chiefly on bringing up the TRP ratings rather than on their professed aim. This can be elucidated through the popular show Indian idol aired on Sony twice a week, hosted by Hussein and Chang, the latter being a contestant in the previous season of Indian idol and judged by Anu Mallik, Javed Akhtar, Kailash Kher and Sonali Bendre.

The show starts off with the contestants doing their act and the judges either unanimously stating that he or she is the best or fighting tooth and nail with conflicting decisions. Having seen this season of Indian Idol so far, one can note that Sonali Bendre, right from the start of the show has been rooting for a girl winner. At any given point of time, she can be seen openly supporting the female contestants over the males. Well, it isn’t a bad thing. After all, it would definitely do some good for a girl to win the Indian Idol after three seasons of guys winning it. But do they deserve it?? The last episode’s verdict has shocked many keen viewers of the show . The contestants who form the Top 3 are Sourabhee Deb Verma, Torsha Sarkar and Kapil Thapa .The shocking part is that Rajdeep Chatterjee, the ever smiling 17 year old from Kolkatta has been eliminated. On following the show right from the commencement of the season, it is obvious that Rajdeep, despite being the youngest is one of the most competent contestants on the show. Indeed, he can belt out songs from any genre. Be it a melody of Rafi’s or one of the current day numbers, this boy can sing it flawlessly, mellifluously and carry off his performance with great élan. He has neither compromised on his performance nor on his singing. The same can be said of some of the other contestants like Prasenjit , Bhavya and Shini, all of whom have been eliminated from the show. Few can forget the heartfelt rendering of Ajahun Aaye Balamaa by Prasenjit which gained him an entry into the galas with a wild card or 17 year old Bhavya’s beautiful rendering of nigahen milaneko jee chahta hai which warmed the hearts of the audience. Or so it was thought. Alas, both were prematurely eliminated in the same fashion. We are now left with Torsha, Sourabhee and Kapil as the Top 3 contestants. It can very truthfully be said that contestants like Bhavya, Shini, Rajdeep and Prasenjit can sing what Kapil, Torsha and Sourabhee can , however, undeniably, it cannot happen the other way around.

The focus of this article is mainly on Indian idol 4, but, same is the case with other reality shows like Sa Re Ga Ma Pa where talented Kaushik Deshpande, Naina Saxsena and Debojit Dutta were eliminated and the likes of Asma Mohammad Rafi stayed on.

Promotional events, advertising, behind the scenes activities, the fierce competition combined with the camaraderie between the contestants, their efforts, the reactions of the judges, the talent of the contestants etc have all been shown and yet, at the close of the day, the best doesn’t make it. It is heartbreaking to see the actual talent being underplayed.

Is it the maker’s fault or is it just that the audience is tone deaf? Is it because the less deserving singers make up for their lack of singing by dancing and performance or is it because the really good ones are not liked . Is the voting just messed up or completely rigged up?




One may never know…….

TO CLEAN OR NOT TO CLEAN.....

‘’Impossible is nothing, nothing is impossible.’’ Whoever said that wasn’t really thinking straight or, they weren’t thinking at all. In all probability, the rate of thought process would have been below 0.5% to say the least. If there is one thing that is impossible, it is cleaning my room. Let me make things clearer- it is impossible for ME to clean MY room.
Many moms all over the world , after reading this would probably gnash their teeth and mutter in disgust, cursing me and dubbing me as the Grinch who stole the joys of cleaning. Oh well, the world is after all made up of many Don Quixotes.

To begin with, I'm very, very, very lazy (read indolent, lackadaisical, apathetic, don‘t-carish,)when it comes to cleaning. I really don’t care if I’m submerged by my books or clothes. In fact, only in this messy state does my room ever give me the feeling of being ’my room.’ Most normal kids would clean their room everyday or once in awhile because of that driving force called MOM . Some others, strange weirdos that they are, are clean freaks themselves and cannot sleep a wink if their room resembles a tornado-cum-earthquake hit area.

Mom indefatigably goes on about how I should tidy up messes as and when I make them and as far as possible, try not to make them at all. Alas and alack, that piece of counsel mulishly refuses to stay put in my head. However, miracles never cease, and once in a blue moon, I find myself surrendering to my mom’s entreaties (or are they coercions camouflaged as patient entreaties ? :P ) and decide very virtuously to clean my room. I assume the air of a warrior bravely approaching the deadly battlefield as I enter my room.

Cleaning my room is a Herculean task to me, which explicates why, I so wisely dedicated my life to not cleaning it in all these 18 years. Cleaning my room would mean tidying every nook and corner and no-leaving-the-corners-unclean crap. This means I have to follow the adage ‘ A place for everything and everything in its place.‘ Sounds easy?? IT IS NOT. When you have a zillion things out of place, you don't really know what or where that right place is!!!!


Now, the task entails me picking up an arbitrary article in my room and finding its correct place. Then I realize that it is not going to work, so, I embark on my mission of torture by cleaning out my clothes and book cupboards. I throw all the clothes carelessly onto the floor and place my precious books on the bed. Half heartedly, I start folding the clothes when I unearth a book that I haven’t read in ages. I steal a quick glance at the clock. I’ve been working hard at folding my clothes for the last five minutes and allow myself a well deserved (?) break. I pick up the book and promise myself that after the first chapter I shall resume folding my wretched clothes. Before I realize it, one and a half hours have passed and I have officially cleaned my room for five minutes consistently. I hastily push all the other things into place haphazardly and get to making the room look fallaciously tidy to save myself from further admonitions . Over the years however, I have come to realize, that this is not the best of ideas , especially considering the fact that my mom (like every other mom in this world) has a pair of eyes that could put a hawk to shame.


"Why is this book lying here?"

"Make space for your college books here and put the other books elsewhere.’’

"You missed a spot - not that spot, this one here.’’

‘’ Clean your room on a daily basis and do both of us a favor.’’

‘’Don’t forget to clean under the bed …………………………….......’’


For the first time in my life, I stare at mom dumbfounded and no words come out as she fires
ahead. I fumble, mumble and curse under my breath. Then, I assure her that the room will be clean, just as she wants it to be, and hurriedly clean the room, while casting surreptitious peeks from the corner of my eye to see if she's left the room. When i'm completely certain that she has, I rush to the door and slam it shut. Now I'm back to my book. When over five hours have passed, my room is eventually clean, and I look worn-out, exhausted, beat, pooped, done in, etc. I'm also sneezing incessantly , as a result of the truckloads of dust that have been uncovered in the process of cleaning. Eyes watering, befuddled, peeved, annoyed, teed off, irritated and terribly sleepy, i flop onto my now clean bed pull the blanket over my head as if to shut out everything and anything even remotely connected to cleaning in particular.


I wake up from my nap and go for supper. Mom comes into my room, nods approvingly and says ‘’ see, now you’ll be able to breathe easy and be more organized,’’ as I look at her in a resigned manner. I wake up the next day and am late for college. I am unable to find a dupatta to match my churidhar. I am unable to find my project file. One sweep of the things on my table, a good tensed forty minutes and a profusely sweating me later, I find my file. I sigh in relief and look up My eyes widen in shock and disbelief.
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MY ROOM IS BACK TO ITS MESSY STATE!!!!!!!

I am back after a long hiatus :). For some reason, i decided to go ahead with this :


BirthDAZE OVER THE YEARS

I realized rather gloomily that my nineteenth birthday is not far off. It means that next year, I will cease to be a teen. Here’s something that makes me feel less gloomy because, some of these events are etched in my mind forever and always have a smile emanating from my lips whenever I think of them.

The first 5 years - Everyone made a big ado. Relatives from all walks of the world, landed at our place for the ‘big event.’ It was razzmatazz personified. I was one of the youngest on both sides and one can only imagine the heights to which I was petted and pampered.

5-12 years-Everyone continued to make a huge fuss. Any bratty tantrums I threw were borne with a smile that might have well been an inward grimace. Lots of presents from everyone. I received money as gift from many members of my considerably large family .I took chocolates to school and was the pivot of attraction.

13-15 years- Teenage mutiny. people tried to make a huge fuss- I thought it was "uncool" and rebelled .Looked forward to gifts from friends. Grandparents , uncles and aunts called. Reasonable number of cards and gifts from friends . Felt special back then though, not as much as I had felt for the first 13 years, before the transformation from brat to a bigger brat.

16-18 years - Spent my 16th and 18th b’days among horrifyingly nightmarish days of my board exams, learning, teaching, breaking my head over math and accounts and watching my friends break their heads over math and accounts and inwardly rejoicing that I was not the only one breaking my head. My 17th b’day was a tad better - I was in my 11th std and my finals were around the corner. It was still officially not yet ‘exam week’ . However, the apprehensions regarding the exams had made themselves quite at home.

Now, my 19th b’day is around the corner. Nothing much will change. I will still have college on my b’day. Exams will either be in progress or round the corner(Damn them! They never ever seem to give me any respite, despite it being my b‘day), friends will ask for a treat, I will happily give in, return home and mourn the fact that I am into my last year as a teenager .

Drat, the next time I throw a tantrum, I will have to bear in mind the unpleasant fact that I can no more blame it on me being a teenager going through a rebellious phase. Time to think up a new excuse :)