The Kodai trip, News from Rajani, Music Review and Kidney Sunder

This post was originally started on the 11th of June. I am trying to finish up and get it online tonight - the 27th of June.
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When you are dealing with a billion people, it is hard to generalize. It is foolish to sterotype. If you do, you have got it all wrong. Invariably. In India, at least. It has not prevented people from doing it: Elisabeth Bumiller in her May you be the Mother of a Hundred Sons. Ballentine Books. 1991, after living in India for just a year, jumps to mind as an example. Its people are so varied that market research companies are setting up shop, and collecting data in India because, right here, among a billion people, is every possible segment of the global population. Fancy that!

Why do I preface my piece on our trip to Kodaikanal so, you might ask? It is because I am going to try not to generalize, and when I do, I am probably talking about a sliver of the population of Tamil Nadu State. Google does not endorse my views, nor does IIT, the university that pays us to be here.

Kodaikanal, for those of you unfamiliar with it location, is about 500 Kms from (use this Metric conversion chart to figure out the distance in miles) from Chennai. Part of the Palani Hills, Kodai is an easy get away to beat the heat and dust of the cities in the summer. (I began writing this post about 10 days ago. The last four days have been most pleasant, with rains, cooling temperatures and cleaner air quality) Ramesh's grandfather, a practising lawyer in Palani, used to have a holiday home in Kodai, and it was customary to fill the car with all the grandchildren for a two-day stay, while he attended to business. I, on the other hand, had never been to Kodai until 1999 with Ramesh and his parents. I had only been to Ooty and Yercaud, the other two popular hill stations in the south, that too, only as a child.
Above right: view of the hills from the backyard of our guest house.
Below: buffaloes on their last ride on NH 45.

Kodai's temperature is comfortable, and in the dreadful month of May, one actually feels quite civilized not to be sweating it out at the slightest activity! The hydrangeas were in full bloom everywhere, as were the roses, and cosmos, and dianthus. There is even a flower show in Bryant Park, featuring some pretty good sized dahlias. With April and May being school holidays, we were not the only ones to have this get away idea. The 75+ km winding, uphill drive to the very top of the mountain (2100 meters high) was jam packed with SUVs, buses and cars, all carrying passengers far above the approved capacity. [an informal survey - read game - on the downhill stretch among the members of our party revealed 45 buses, 42 Tata Indicas, a distant 23 Ambassadors, and a mere 11 Maruti Omnis in a 2-hour time period. No one counted the SUVs because it was too hard to keep track of whether we had counted it or not. One would passes us honking and flashing, only to pull over so that one of its passengers to throw up on the side of the road! And I was grateful to my brother-in-law for letting me sit in the front, and being man enough to let all the other macho drivers pass him - so that I don't ask to pull over! ]

In the aforementioned 1999 trip to Kodai, we had also visited other cities in the south - Rameshwaram and Dhaushkoti (the best beach I've seen in India), Kanyakumari (the southernmost tip of India), Kuttralam - a giant waterfall to bathe in. I came back from the week-long trip and cried that our oceans need to be saved. With the exception of Dhanushkoti, my feet always felt plastic bags, banana peels, strings of flowers, coconut husks, and heaven knows what else, swirling in the waters. We were literally drowning in our own litter!

Above right: View of Srirangam Ranganatha Swamy Temple Gopuram=tower, just for you, Ranjani!
Six-years later, Kodaikanal looked like trash! Suicide Point and Coaker's Walk, where honeymooners snatched private moments for romance could hardly be inspired by half-eaten corn, bags that once contained masala popcorn, and crushed plastic cups? Families could hardly admire the lantana that cascaded from rocky walls to the street with all the soiled paper and wasted food dumped below it? The central attraction of Kodai - the Lake - around which meanders 5 kms of road for bikers, and walkers, and perennial favorite - horse-back riders - is probably the most polluted spot there. All the sewer lines (if any) seem to lead down to the lake. The waste from the horses and food stalls vie with each other for olfactory supremacy! The masses of people who have made the time, the effort, and spent the money, oblivious to this repugnant scene, are determined to have a good time - they hire (rent) bicycles, chat above the blaring music piped in for the entire lake, and patronize the bajji stall while waiting in the chaos for a turn at the swan boats. We retreated back up the hill to the quiet of the guest house.

Ramesh said: this was not the Kodaikanal of his childhood.
I said: this was not the Kodaikanal of six years ago!
Geeta, my sister, said: it is holiday season.
Above left: Gigantic hibiscus bush - the kind we don't see in Chennai city.
Right: Rajani and Raghavan Periappa on a trip around Kodai lake
So why are we not able to keep our recreational spaces clean? Do we not value them? Hell, no.
Too many people, we repeat the cliched argument. We are far too many people. It almost seems that the same people who were employed by the municipality to keep Kodai clean in the off-season (winter) months during Ramesh's childhood are being employed today. The only difference being, there are 500,000 more people on holiday - that day!. With economic boom, more people have disposable income to take vacations. Great! People are travelling everywhere. Good for them! While the people who travelled to Darjeeling in the north and Kodaikanal in the south 30 years ago, are going to New Zealand and Switzerland, the ones that took the family on a jam-packed public bus to the neighboring village temple for a weekend, are now going to Kodaikanal. They hire a Tata Sumo, collect half the neighborhood, and are off in search of a good time.

What hasn't come along with that desire to have a good time, is the value that we share this space with others. (generalization!) That this land belongs to us all. We all need to save it for all of us. For our children. And their children too. (Indian Prez. Dr. Abdul Kalam said it better, but we are not really in favor of a second term for him)

The municipality does not provide enough trash bins for people to deposit waste in, and those that are placed are far too full, far too quickly. As we move away from traditional habits (for example, eating out of a banana leaf that was in turn eaten by cows, or composted) to modern conveniences of disposable diapers and plastic bags, we are bound to deal with the, rather LARGE, problem of what to do about our trash.

Labour is cheap, so employ more people, one might say. Fine them, like they do in Singapore, (no chewing gum in the subway!) another might suggest. India is a democratic country where "freedom" is taken literally - I am free to drive badly, I am free to litter, I am free to take up residence on the pavement, etc.

Distressing!

Instead of finding fault, I have come to the conclusion that just as many nations in the west, during the industrial revolution, forged ahead, unmindful of the damage they were doing to their environment (and continue to, today) Indians too must have their turn at "development." They must enjoy the "modern" conveniences that it brings, experience the changes in values that it imports, watch their cityscapes morph in to "world cities" (we are cutting down spectacular shade providing trees to make room for wider roads) and only when they have been satiated with growth and development, only when they make time to pause, as a nation, and ponder over the direction of their growth, can they practice environmentally friendly values. Advocacy groups can educate; concerned citizens can practise the-think-globally-act-locally-thing.

Rajani's News:

I am in school now. Holidays are over. I have a friend called Sanjana. Sanjana is from America too - from New Hampshire. Me and Sanjana go to Ashoka everyday, my classroom. I am in 2nd grade, and Sanjana is in 1st grade. We like to play together. We like to play chuk-chuk trains, and build sand castles. We like to have play-dates and we have had 3 play-dates so far. At lunch, we place little tables and we sit together - me, Sanjana and another friend, Ammu. We are both best friends because I know how Sanjana's house looks, and Sanjana knows how my house looks. When I go to her house, I like to go bouncing on the bouncing ball, and play computer games. But that day it was raining and we could not go out to play. But when she came to my house, we could go out play in the building. Me and Sanjana like to read stories and draw pictures. And at snack time at school, we like to sit in the room outside, and we have a picnic together. We put our napkins together because Sudha Aunty does not want us to put buscuit crumbs on the floor. I don't always play with Sanjana. Sometimes, I like to play with Ammu. Me and Ammu like to go on the see-saw, and we like to say, "oh wait oh wait" and Ammu gets off the see-saw, then jumps on, and I go up and I say the same thing - oh wait, oh wait!
Love, Rajani

As you can see, Sanjana is a big thing in R's life right now. I am thrilled that she has another 6-year old to relate to. I meant to get a picture of the two of them, but haven't gotten around to it. But here she is, with my sister, Geeta, at the Palani Murugan temple - a day trip from Kodaikanal. The town of Palani is also home to Ramesh's grandfather on his father's side. They have a rambling old family house, which is currently on sale, and one of his uncles lives right there. Lord Mugura, the younger son of Shiva, got all upset when he did not get the prize that his parents had offered to the son who successfully completes a challenge - that of going around the world. Ganesha, simply went around his parents, saying that Shiva and Parvathi were the entire world! Muruga, in a huff, took off to hang out on the Palani hill. He is said to be inspiration of some pretty amazing Tamil poetry and music. While there are steep steps to climb the hill (and we have done it in the past), these days, we have gondolas and winches to take masses of people there. Here, they wait for the winds to die down so that the gondola can take us back down. She is wearing flower garlands, which are traditional blessings from the Lord, usually conferred on the family elder, or the family young(st)er!

Ramesh and the Fulbright:

While Ramesh has officially been selected to receive the Fulbright award, he does actually get it until medical clearance is received. And we await that.

The Music Scene:
Our private lessons have come to a complete halt since our teacher's sore throat, followed by the house painting project. Rajani and I try to keep practising, and our interest going. It is challenging!

On the bright side, Arjun, my sister's son, is visiting from California. He plays the mrudangam, the South Indian drum. After many years of earnest study and some talent, his guru sees it fit for him to have an arangetram=graduation performance. I have been pretty busy getting the invitation organized for the Indian event in August, followed by his North American debut concert in September. In India, he will be playing for S. Saketharaman, whose famous sister, Vishaka Hari, is rocking the hari-katha world, with her stories and music. In the US, violinst Delhi P. Sunder Rajan is presenting a vocal concert. [Arjun, playing the mrudangam, with his Guru, Shri Neyveli R. Narayanan, on the right, on my dining room floor.]

Earlier this week, I attended Delhi Sunder Rajan's vocal concert at the TTD in T.Nagar. Delhi SunderRajan's has a gifted voice, and his manodharma or improvisation are quite excellent (albeit a little over worked) - what with having accompanied TNS, TVS and the like. But his krithi delivery needs polishing. Srimushanam Raja Rao, who played the mrudangam that evening, would have most certainly awakened Ranganatha swamy while Delhi delivered a very pleasant O, Rangasayee...

And lastly,

"Kidney Sunder"

We live in a colorful neighborhood - literally: a building next door was recently repainted blue - I mean aqua marine! It is populated by interesting characters, of the two-legged and four-legged variety (more about Stud-muffin in an another post). Among them, stands out Kidney Sunder. Diagonally across our street, on the pavement, is a cycle repair shop. By shop, I mean a space on the pavement taken up to conduct a business. It is rarely manned. Yet, when it is, it does roaring business. Parents drive up in fancy cars, unload colorful children's bikes to have them fixed up, bikers stop to have their tires topped up with air, punctures are repaired on the spot. One cannot count on it being open the entire day, just because it appears to have opened for business in the morning. Ramesh has often meant to go out in the evening to have his brakes adjusted, only to find that the shop keeper has covered up the shop with tarp and gone home for the day. (I did say that it did roaring business when it was open!) Ramesh would end up pushing his bike a few hundred yards to the other fellow in front of the Ganesha temple, who was always there, always polite, and considerably less expensive.

After four months of watching this elusive businessman, we finally found him open when we actually needed him. Ramesh quickly pushes his bike over to him and asks to fill his tires with air. As the task is being completed, being the business professor that he is, Ramesh asks him how he manages to keep it going, even with the shop closed as often as it is. He replies that business could be better, but he often has to be away - to the police station or to court. Did Ramesh not know that he (the bike shop guy) was Kidney Sunder? No, replies Ramesh. What's the story? He [Kidney]Sunder has been falsely accused of murdering someone for his/her (yes, you guessed right) kidney by, says Kidney Sunder, the real murderer. The real murderer pointed the finger at Sunder (now Kidney Sunder), and the media picked up the name too. With this allegation, KS spends most of his time presenting himself in court, and not being able to help the neighborhood kids by filling air in their little tires.

We have since learnt that Kidney Sunder is the son-in-law of Iron Lady [so named by Rajani, for she picks up our ironing]. Today I asked Iron Lady why her son-in-law did not keep his shop open more often. She shook her head sadly, as any mother, who has given her daughter away to an underserving man, and said sarcastically, "I guess he makes more than enough money when he is open." [I told you he did roaring business. Whether it is his superior workmanship or his notoriety, we'll never know!]

Until next time!

The (musically) Lean Season

From Ariyakudi to Semmangudi:

Mudra, an organization that promotes understanding of Carnatic music, organized an audio-visual presentation with the above title, last Sunday. 15 stalwarts of carnatic music: their birth, their musical talents, their contribution to carnatic music, and brief biographies were to be the subject of this 2.5 hour talk , presumably with photographs, footage, and audio recordings. Ramesh, Rajani and I thought that a visit to the Bhartiya Vidhya Bhavan, at the very heart of Mylapore, would make an enjoyable evening.

A packed house awaited us when the program began promptly at 6 p.m. The small hall was overflowing with young and old. People were sitting on the stairs, on the floor, and standing outside the hall, hoping to get in. What a disappointment the evening was to prove. Radha Bhaskar and Mudra Bhaskar had not done their homework. It was almost as if they had scanned the pictures from CD and cassette covers, and magazines, found in their house, and added 2 minute-recordings from their collections at home, and put together a PowerPoint presentation that ended up having an amateur quality rather than a scholarly one.

If one were expecting wonderful pictures of the artists, it certainly wasn't the case. It began promisingly enough with Ariyakudi Ramanuja Iyengar. Several candid photographs of his early days and performances were a treat to the eyes. Madurai Main Iyer and ML Vasanthakumari each had 3 and 2 pictures respectively repeating themselves through the 15-minute oratory! GN Balasubramanian, a musician who had seen a career in the movies, had about 4 pictures to his piece. The Bhaskars had not done their homework - surely All India Radio, the Music Academy, and The Hindu would have, in their respective archives, outstanding photographs that could have been used for this presentation?

The audio portion of this "multi-media" presentation was not any less disappointing. If Madurai Mani Iyer was renowned for his truly extemporaenous delivery of kalpanaswaras, would not a segment of that, singing his famous Charukesi, or Mohanam or Begada, or Kapi, been the more appropriate choice? If Musiri Subramania Iyer's neraval was the hallmark of his music, could we not have been treated to 2 minutes of his neraval from Entaninne varninuthu sabribhagaya? (I was left mesmorised by a recording of Musiri's kalpanaswaram in Thodi one afternoon, where, for a rupaka thalam, he sang about 20 avarthanams of 3, 5 and 7 swara combinations.)

The line-up of the artists covered also left me a bit bemused. Maharajapuram Santhanam came before MD Ramanthan, Voleti, and ML Vasanthakumari?

Dr. Durga, the attending expert musicologist was the bright light of the program. She spoke about her personal experiences with these musicians, for her home in Tanjavur, was a veritable music house that hosted all musicians. She had learnt from Maharajapuram Vishwanatha Iyer, who would sing Poorvi Kalyani for a few minutes, and ask her to have a go at it. She spoke about how Madurai Mani Iyer adhered to sruti so much that he would even stop mid stream in a pallavi or anupallavi to check his alignment to sruti, and about his truly extempore swara delivery that did not involve korvais and calculations that seems to dominate today's kalpanaswara renditions. She talked about how carnatic music used to be a more manodharma based music, not krithi-based, as it has come to be known today, of how RTPs were the norm of every concert in the old days, of the vengala koral = bell-like voice (?) of Chembai, of the modulated rendering of sahithyam by Musiri. All the little anecdotes she shared gave her audience a little more personal insight about each of these great musicians. It was a delight to hear her speak.

But alas, I was so distressed by the poorly researched audio and visual portion of the presentation, that I walked out - leaving a little more breathing room for the elderly ladies I was sandwiched between - even before my favorites Voleti and DK Jayaraman were covered.