Freebies For Parties To Consider

The Supreme Court in India is suddenly waking up and sounding the bugle against this reckless habit of political parties prior to elections - of declaring how they would enrich voters with freebies of various types and denominations, if they are voted to power.  Reckless simply because basic financial wisdom dictates that such munificence at the expense of the exchequer should be curbed and wound back.  Political parties are bristling at this brazen intervention of judiciary in legislature related issue.  Because they staunchly believe it is their constitutional prerogative to make suckers out of voters whenever elections are announced and courts should not interfere, but just watch the sorry spectacle.  Voters are offended because they do not mind those freebies and enjoy making the politicians look like idiots when they take all the goodies and vote according to their whim anyway, swiping the kickbacks away from the equation.  Honest taxpayers are pricked since it is their hard earned money paid as taxes, which is used to fund the freebies when huge quantum of developmental work suffers for want of funds. But, to be fair, who does not mind freebies? Take the example of all the discounts, coupons and cash-backs that people gleefully accept from e-commerce platforms and the like.  What are they?  The saving grace is that this set is not funded by taxpayer's money but by mindlessly valuation-driven moneybags and that charade goes on all through the year, not only for a specific period.  If you look askance at that one difference, the entire population is guilty of savouring the freebies doled out perennially. 

With that preamble, let us see how innovative politicians can get with the freebies, assuming the supreme court is rendered powerless to stop this pestilence too, just as it has happened with many other malpractices in our country.   Nobody is taken in by the righteous and shrill objections from parties that spending on health care, education etc cannot be seen as freebies, because these are not the prickly issues in this practice and there can be no objection to those.  Problem is that genuine welfare expenses covering all the people as in the case of health and education can and do very easily, seamlessly merge with all kinds of flaky stuff like TVs, grinders, saris, shirts etc and here lies the rub.  If free cycles for girls going to school are justified, why not scooters for the parents to ferry the children to school and back?  With their well articulated mastery over specious arguments, political parties can rationalise any freebie, so long as some part of the public benefits.  So, let us not look for any rationale or vindication in this article and just imagine what all can be included in freebies and how.  All in good humour, so that no one takes serious umbrage.

Liquor is mammoth and serious business and most governments are involved in it - some even manufacturing and distributing the potions.  Liquor sales are one of the biggest tax generators for state governments and all those people who cry foul about price rise do not bat an eye lid before jostling a crowd in sweltering heat to get their tipple, whatever the cost. So, how about providing free stored value cards for stated amounts, valid for a year from the date of issue (after a government takes charge), so that voting population can enjoy their favourite drink and pay using the card.  The vends will collect taxes on the sales and channel that booty to the government.  So, the shrewd and well-meaning government gets to recoup at least some of the investment in this freebie.  Why is this a worthwhile benefit?  The perpetually harassed housewives can be free from the uncouth and testy behaviour of half-drunk husbands who are frustrated because they cannot be fully inebriated, at least for a few days and the resultant relief is a good reason for them to vote for the party in elections. Winners all around; party gets to power, husbands get additional bottles of liquor free, wives are relieved somewhat and government gets to rake in tax.  Of course, the liquor business is a GDP booster and employment creator, to boot.

Just to be even handed, the next freebie to be considered is free cable TV connections to the homes of voters. This could be a big welfare measure because it benefits the ladies at home, who diligently watch all the soaps and movies aired throughout the evening spellbound, ignoring the drunk husbands and pestering children.  The husbands are also probably happy because they do not have to listen to the raves and rants of women at home, even as they are passing out.  Older children are pleased to be left alone, able to indulge in their gadgets for a few hours without anyone looking over their shoulder.  Something which makes for a relatively peaceful home environment with very few complaints - except from those who are not serious drinkers and those who are averse to TV and of course the angry tax payer.

Next is something for the young voter and older children. Another stored value card for fixed amount to be used for mobile phone recharges.  Obviously this is supporting education in times of covid and allied maladies, since children are using mobile phones to attend classes.  Of course this measure makes for addiction to mobiles and all the video games they offer, but then what is a bit of collateral damage when overall development of the child is being facilitated.  Some political parties may even want to give free mobile phones to school and college children to let academics flourish in the states.

Subsidised subscriptions to specific newspapers which are party organs or at least friendly to the party/government could be another freebie.  All those people who choose to successfully evade the propagandistic outpouring on the TV stations owned by the political parties, can be targeted through this medium.  Of course, there will be accusations, rightly so, of such an arrangement benefiting the party directly, but then this will not be the first or last in that line.  All the party has to do is to hold a massive protest on a working day, in a highly congested central business district, blocking all traffic and making outrageous counter complaints against all those accusers. People tend to forget these things easily.

The final recommendation my dear wife has is for free outpatient treatment in all major hospitals given to those who are involved in accidents caused by pot-holed roads and knee-high speed bumps.  This will be a big hit, in places like Bangalore, where progressively there are more and more potholes and speed breakers and less of clear roads.  If you thought you are an experienced and careful rider and could  successfully negotiate all pot-holes, the next speed bump will get you.  With traffic at about 15 kmph even in non-peak hours, why there is such a multiplicity of speed breakers in every stretch of road is a legitimate question, but then who is listening?  With accidents increasing year on year in proportion to pot-holes and speed bumps, it looks like this is a genuine welfare measure and people would lap it up.

Not being a politician, this writer is not able to delve deep into the bag of freebies that parties might have already filled up.  So, we shall await the turn of the experts to unleash their talents to snare the voters!

 

   

Senior Citizens' Discussions

With due apologies to the senior citizens group, let me submit this piece is not a derisive critique of their ways.  Simply because I am myself an integral part of that group and indulge in this characteristic behaviour intermittently.  While this may be amusing on the one hand, causing some mirth at the expense of the elders, it is an effort to clarify that it is but inevitable that one's mind and body expeirences have to form a substantive part of one's conversations and they do, for the seniors.  So, if there are afflictions that bother elders - unfortunately, that is the way of life for most - naturally it follows that they tend to be expressive of that.  This piece is to shine some light on this behaviour and see if some changes can be implemented to ensure that as a group, we do not put off others and make them shy away from our attempts at conversations. 

When youngsters meet they raucuously discuss cricket or loud music or some new restuarant or yes, girls.  But when elders congregate, especially on occasions like wedding or similar social occasions which do not demand their undivided attention (it is true that very few are gripping enough to do that), conversations invariably meander and end up in the domain of health issues.  Why?  Because those are much more real and present than any other thing in the current lives of most seniors.  They might start with some old film song or playback singer, touch upon a recently deceased cricketer of the 1970s, progress to how life was easier during their youth which has receded inexorably back into the far corners of memory and then after a lull in the conversation, the question invariably pops up `by the way, how is your knee'or 'how is your diabetes' or `is the prostate okay'?  That is like a match shown to a few pieces of camphor.  

There are two types of responses to the above query, depending on the personality of the individual.  If he/she is a somewhat private, taciturn person, the reply would be almost terse; like `oh, its okay, am carrying on with that God's gift'.  Then they make it clear that they would rather not plunge further into that topic.  Then there is the other type, the loquacious, starved-for-conversation, self indulgent person, who pounces on any such opening and seizes the opportunity like a seal snatching fish from the hands of the reluctant trainer.  It is almost as if he/she has been waiting on the fringes, sniffing for something like this to pop up.  He/she barges in to open the flood-gates and start `sharing' all that research he/she has done on knees in general and meniscus tear, wearing out of cartilage, orthoscopic surgery vs knee replacement and whatever else is published on related subjects.  This person is so evolved on the subject and involved with such intensity, nobody else can get in edgeways even to say three words together.  Such a person invariably is also a good story-teller and this combination in deadly in terms of attracting audience.

Everyone has knees and in old age knees also mean niggles to pain, so relating to what is being expounded is easy.  This means all those in the vicinity, who were listlessly mumbling meaningless platitudes, tend to hear the high decibel exposition on 'knees' and are drawn to it like moths to the flame.  Soon the number of participants increases and what you have are multi-layered circles of enthusiastic people, pretty much like the multiple ripples caused by a stone in water.  Very soon, what is on the table is a cornucopia of medical information about knees and all problems related to them, including leading doctors who do this or that, all kinds of knee support systems like caps, braces and wheelchairs.  Also thrown in are the most efficacious medication available.  But generally it would be foolish to expect some agreement on anything regarding this, not the doctors, not the tablets, or anything else since for each problem there are about fifty `best' doctors and about seventy six `super' medicines. Of course, there are a couple of guys who have no problem with knees but have ulcers or migraine and they feel pathetically left out in the cold during this effusive display.  They wince, start circulating more aggressively, wistfully looking out for another forum, where their ailment might be the hot topic. But `knees' as a topic of conversation is a big hit amongst seniors anywhere, one can wager a hefty amount.

Some sufferers would plunge into graphic description of all the issues they face and might make it impossible to even look at the wedding meal one has been waiting for.  These people do not care about aesthetics or finesse and go on and on about the minutest details of the impairments they carry in their bodies and their impact. In their fervour, such people do not realise that others might be revulsed by their intimate exposition. Then experience says that one sensible octaogenarian will materialise from somewhere, to hobble in and shut the whole thing down with a few stern, choice utterances to the hyped up blabberer, to the relief of the listeners. It is easy to empathize with the elders and the tendency to talk about health issues amongst others.  But my preference is for those who do this subtly, imparting knowledge, broadcasting useful titbits without taking a large ladle, plunging it into the mess and stirring violently.  Not done, you will agree?  My dear wife has her own strong views; she thinks all discussions on the subject of seniors' problems should be banned officially and eschewed consciously by everyone, in the interests of overall mental wellbeing of seniors themselves.

I hear from time to time of an eighty-five yeard old woman running a marathon and a ninety six year old man doing triathalon.  I have not been blessed enough to see any such person, but I am sure there exists a sprinkling of such people in reality. It would be nice to have a formula to get to such a healthy mix of old age and fitness. But how many succeed, despite sustained efforts? I recall T S Eliot's `The Waste Land' and the sibyl.  This sibyl desired to live for ever and prayed for that and some mischievous God granted her that wish.  As years pass, she realised she was shrinking in size and had to be eventually put into a cage to protect her from being trampled by somebody.  So, longevity in life is good, but what should be a necessary accompaniment is resonably good health.  God has built our bodies for, say,  sixty years and from the sixty first, He blesses us with minor, major malaises, watching from the sidelines with His inscrutable smile.  I wish elders could make a collective, persuasive representation to God for a more even distribution - mix of longevity and good health for X years. 

But then, if this boon is granted to us, what will the seniors discuss on future social occasions?  Probably the disproportionate allocation of the two components for some of them?? 

 

The Neighbourhood Bully

When we were children, we were traumatized by the bullying of a neighbourhood thug, who was 4-5 years older than the rest and had the physique to show for that. That he was bigger and beefier than the rest of the boys had, in his mind, bestowed on him the unequivocal right to lord over the group.  Being a dimwit, he knew the only way he could command a vague sense of respect from us was to literally beat the hell out of all opposition within the group by pouncing on some unfortunate, puny victim! He was never okay with any of us being on good terms with his enemies -- and he had many -- and he was mortally afraid of directly taking on his enemies, who were his own age and equally well built.  He was mortally afraid that he might be beaten black and blue and his face could be scrubbed shapeless in the mud, which would make him lose all the dread and grudging respect he had carefully built within the group for so many years.  So it was always the smaller kids who were the victims of his wrath because they deliberately or unwittingly chose to ignore his repeated warnings that they should not hobnob with any other senior, at any cost. Period.  Frequently problems arose when some cheeky bigger boys came around to chat or play or whatever, with the intention of making the bully wring his hands in anger.  After their departure, expectedly, some small kid got the rap badly from the bully.  The funny thing was the bully did not have any great friend his own vintage; probably he did not want that and never made any effort in that direction, because he knew he could not sustain any meaningful relationship with an equal and wanted only trembling subservients around him.  Made him feel like a potent force obviously.

Sounds familiar?? I reckoned so. Might have happened in your life too at some stage.  When Russia decided to pommel Ukraine into submission with its military might in a patently unequal battle, some of our friends exchanged notes and reminisced about that neighbourhood thug of those days.  We concluded that there is no difference, except that the setting was global geopolitics.  Ukraine dared to have some aspirations of its own - like joining EU, Nato and generally cosying up to the West.  As an indepndent nation, it mistakenly assumed that it had the right to align itself with whoever it liked. Like that young boy in our childhood group, who saw no harm in buying a colourful top from another neighbourhood boy, without realising that this action was posing a direct provocation to our own bully, who reacted violently.  Having cocked a snook at Putin thus and almost daring him into thuggish behaviour, Ukraine did not exactly prepare itself for a full scale assault by Russia. It probably never occurred to Ukraine that in this 21st century, geopolitical fairness and international norms would allow a street-bully like Putin to trample a smaller country at will and that there will be no direct protection available to it from the so-called friends and also that retrograde organization called United Nations.  

The specious argument used by Putin (not that it mattered) was `democracy and rights of a sovereign nation be damned, Ukraine cannot be friendly with those who are my enemies because that would endanger Russia.  If it attempts to, Russia can view such a move as inimical to its security interests and act'.  So, Russia's position is that if Ukraine has to improve its own security and trade interests and wants to be in pacts with USA and EU countries, it has to first get Russia's nod for that, which will never be forthcoming.  It is almost like the repugnant veto some countries wield in the UN.  One, why would an independent, sovereign country Ukraine, have to seek permission from anyone to do what it likes to do, so long as it does not involve violation of the rights of another sovereign country?  Two, and why does Russia, which has this pathetic track record of aggression against smaller countries after the Soviet Union's break-up, get to dictate terms on this?  Well, we may have those and thousand other legitimate questions, but Russia and Putin are not looking to satisfy our doubts in this regard.  That is the way it is and a belligerent Russia invaded Ukraine with impunity, when the latter continued to make noises about joining Nato and EU.  This is no different from our neighbourhood bully sternly warning all the smaller kids that we should not move out of the circle he has drawn for us and if we choose to, we would face the consequences.

Ukraine's friends did not jump into the already muddied waters, to help the country for the touted reason that they did not want this confrontation to flame out into a `world war'.  Did USA and EU countries tell Ukraine beforehand that they would not `fight' with Ukraine against Russia for this and other reasons?  Did Zelensky go ahead on his own and still send some toxic vapour up the nostril of Putin, as seen  in Tom and Jerry cartoons?? Why would he risk the loss of lives and territory, if he was clear that meaty military support would not be forthcoming from the allies? If that was a dare he posed to Putin, without covering his flanks, is he irresponsible as a leader? Or did his so-called allies promise one thing and chicken out to do something less when push came to shove? In which case, the allies would not only be guilty of reneging on promises of support made, but also of directly causing immense losses to Ukraine.  One thing is certain, manipulative Putin read the softness of the position of the allies better than Zelensky and walked into Ukraine. Reminds me of those couple of times when two-three more daring of the smaller kids in our group, on the provocation of a mischievously exploitative boy, started a small fire of rebellion and got thrashed by the bully.       

It looks like what Putin imagined was easy fodder has turned out to be something more serious, he has not been able to ride roughshod over Ukraine and has been bitten on the backside quite a bit.  The latter is resisting strongly and Russia is losing men, military assets and lots of face in the bargain.  Probably because Ukraine's allies, feeling guilty that they are not actually entring the combat, are attempting to make up by supplying powerful arms and ammunitions, which are put to good use by Ukraine to dent the fortunes and confidence of Russia.  Putin is retreating from some fronts, looking to make out to the weaker fringes bordering Russian territory (natural or acquired through illegitimate means and aggression earlier, like Crimea).  There he can rely on pro-Russian rebel elements within Ukraine to bolster him up through uprising against the regime in Ukraine.  Another tactic he has perfected over the decades as in Georgia and Crimea earlier.  Now it is pretty clear that the Russia's whole game is to gobble up as much territory as possible all around Ukraine, even as the rest of the world and UN bleat out their well practised chorus - `Differences should be resolved through talks, not war'.  We have all done that very expertly for decades in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria and Yemen -- of course, without anyone bothering to even listen. 

Now that Purin has realised this is going to be a tougher war than he had imagined and Ukraine is not going to curl up and roll over, he is imitating our bully and saying things like `no country should provide arms and ammunitions to Ukraine.  That would amount to intervention in the war'.  Russia also uttered the N word a few times in an attempt to put the lid on the help Ukraine is getting by warning that the whole war could spiral out into a nuclear war.  Now hollering from top of the fort that it will be going nuclear, doesn't it realise that nothing will remain of Russia or all those deceitful acquisitions it has made over the years, if indeed nuclear arms are involved.  How does that help Putin or Russia?  They will unilaterally declare war, ride roughshod over innocent civilians in a less powerful, smaller country and the world should just watch without providing any help. How unfair can Russia be?

But as long as there is no strong global platform (UN cannot be that, by any stretch of imagination, unless completely revamped), which can rustle up robust persuasive or military support to oppose all transgressors meaningfully, this scene will repeat itself in some corner of the world.  And most of us will be saying `tch, tch, what did the Ukrainians do wrong??  Russia cannot do this'.  What Ukraine was trying to do, some other countries might go on the same road soon.  Russia is trying to set up a precedent.  Hope all angles will be covered by those daring to break a new path. 

Wintry Trip To New York

Even when we were planning our Dec 2021 trip to USA, we felt that chill burrow through our bones and send tremors of anticipatory trepidation.  Not that we were strangers to USA in winter.  We have successfully negotiated the numbing cold of Chicago in Dec/January, accentuated by the freezing lake nearby, multiple times but that seemed eons back. Now we are that much older, with that much less tolerance of change from the balmy Bangalore weather, we were just anxious. Nevertheless, we had to go because we hadn't seen our boys and their families in two years. When we actually reached, we found ourselves in an apartment right on the bank of the Hudson river, which meant that we were fodder for all the concomitant forces of the elements.  At first sight we were very excited about the prospect of looking into the vast expanse of the river all through the day (no doubt it was extremely serene and soothing), but later on when the weather asserted itself and got nasty, we realised that there was a pretty significant price to pay. The increased impact of the cold whenever we stepped out.  The temperature tended to be some 3 to 4 degrees C colder than a bit more inland in Manhattan.  With wind-chill we were usually walking around in -6 to -18 deg C temperature and that was not very enjoyable.  We would have preferred to trundle along the length and breadth of the place in trousers/shorts and tees during summer, just as we wont to. Consequently this also meant we ventured out less, walked less and were disappointed that we could not indulge in our favourite Manhattan pastime, just walking!

If the cold weather was a problem, even worse was what we had to do to counter that - wearing multiple layers of warm clothing, even for the exposure of a very short walk around the corner to the supermarket.  The process was akin to dressing up with all those props for a part in a historical drama like Ramayana or Mahabharatha.  That ritual paraphernalia began with the addition of another layer under the trousers as the cold increased.  A pair of woollen socks became mandatory and that meant struggling with our shoes because of the thickness of the socks. A sweater was an add-on below the jacket we were using and one felt like one had bulged in all directions for no reason at all.  The long overcoat which was my permanent companion in New York during winter, seemed to weigh a ton all of a sudden and increased the discomfiture.  Pulling on a pair of good gloves was essential to avoid having to pick up the fingers from the floor if they fall off at the end of the trip due to frosty cold.  Yes, what one would have used to pick up those fingers from the ground is a pertinent question.  Then a monkey cap to prevent the icy wind from drilling its way through the ears. A pair of heavier than normal shoes to prevent the toes from curling up even as we walk and a shawl/muffler around the neck to cover the last exposed part of the body, all became necessary weapons to fight the weather.  As if all the above were not suffocating enough, our kindly friend Covid accentuated the oppressed feeling with the mask (our sons mandated N 90, nothing less).  For someone walking in Bangalore with the barest necessary clothing, all these were layers of extraordinary distress obviously.

That cumbersome ritualistic dressing up made us wise enough to curtail trips out of the apartment and robustly question the need for getting out of the cocoon of its heated environs. There was a fair amount of discussion before stepping out and we got into the wholesome habit of choosing `required' outings over `wanted' ones.  Still, we walked daily along the promenade by the river or in the river-side park.  Cold itself was not the issue (not after the protection offered by all that stuff) but the weighty responsibility of carrying all those pieces of clothing made us groan.  Our usual gentle pace was even further reduced by the strenuous effort and we found it difficult to keep pace with our two-year-old grandson, who was invariably our companion on such walks.  That guy never walks, only runs and his velocity effortlessly outstripped ours and we ended up huffing and puffing to catch up. And he would never let up and goaded us to go along without a pause. Interesting that he only had a jacket and a cap for protection and seemed none the worse for that despite his tender age. Children have warmer blood, we have heard, but this one seems to be blessed with hotter blood for the winter!! Having said that, we enjoyed our two hours' outing each morning with him and were willing to wear additional layers of warm clothing to do that, if warranted.  That's what grandchildren do to you, I suppose.

The daily essential trips were the above morning saunter with our grandson and the evening walk to my son's apartment, less than a km away for more family time.  One night at about 8 pm when we said good bye to our son and left his apartment, there was a very slight drizzle.  Unmindful of that we began ambling against the slanting rain and wind towards the river, to our apartment. Lo and behold, in a jiffy, the capricious weather metamorphosed so much; the slight drizzle gathered pace with a howling wind, which almost sounded like a gale to us unprepared Bangaloreans. We were struggling to hold our feet to the ground, as the wind made progress painfully slow.  We had to hold on to some rods on the roadside to make even that snail paced headway. Our struggling movement against the  wind was reminiscent of some disaster movies in which you see people  heaving and panting as they fight the elements! At one point, our feet were lifted off the ground by the gusting wind; but for the fact that we were attached to the scaffolding of a building, we would have probably been deposited at some unintended destination, negating the precious little progress we had made in 10 minutes!  We can assure you, dire situations like these kind tend to dim your wit and responses. When we reached our apartment eventually (that wind did not last very long, mercifully), we wondered why we did not use our sagacity to get into one of the buildings on the way, hiding from the raging wind.  There were at least 20 tall buildings which could have offered refuge. That was a terrifying experience but we can now look back and say we have gone through that also! Ironically we found out from our son subsequently that there was a gale warning out for that time!! Being non-New Yorkers we did not check that before stepping out.

It snowed 3-4 times during our stay and usually one foot of snow accumulated on the ground and quite a bit on top of cars parked on the roadsides.  Our grandson looked out from our apartment window and yelled `fonny' (his way of saying `funny') as he watched a parade of many vehicles with solidified snow on top, as if they were wearing a white canopy for the season.  Outside our apartment, between the road and the river, there was a sizeable slope, going down about 150 yards or so.  Every time it snowed, that slope was nicely laid out with snow and the whole area transformed into a skiing slope for adults and children.  Teeming crowds gathered there, equipped with whatever they can find at home, from large, flat plates to coracle like contraptions and everything in between.  They tirelessly screamed down the slopes on their backs or haunches and made the required tremendous effort to traverse the ascent back to the top, for the next trip down. It was hilarious to see some novices, with no knowledge of what to do or how to, starting with the intent of going perpendicularly downwards, but in their state of perfect imbalance switching to horizontal travel some way down.  They struggled to control themselves and upset many other neighbouring skiers, who got scattered all around trying to avoid the errant skiers.  It was fantastic and energising to watch youngsters ski all day long without a hint of fatigue.

While booking tickets to New York, we discovered that all those pronouncements about bubble flights and difficulty with connecting flights were just hogwash.  For instance, middle eastern carriers were unabashedly carrying passengers from India beyond their shores through connecting flights.  Even though flights between Qatar/UAE were under the bubble arrangement.  At the same time, British Airways very scrupulously told us we cannot connect to a BA flight from London to New York.  Then came the surprise that if you book with American Airlines (a partner of BA) a Bangalore-London-New York flight with a BA connection in London, it is a breeze, you are okay.  One BA agent told me we will not be able to fly BA from London, come what may, because the airline's aircraft cannot carry Indian passport holders beyond London.  But, if it is an American Airlines ticketed and BA operated code-share flight, all is well.  I guess that small part of the aircraft is American's and not BA's!!  Do you see any logic in this??  These rules just confuse you even more.

Another issue to compound the confusion is the Covid test requirement for the flights and countries you go to.  Airlines have ensured that there is no clarity about the tests required for the transit points.  Nobody would tell us for sure if we needed some test taken at a specific time for transiting through London.  We diligently filled out some forms that seemed required for London transit and were prepared to be grilled about our vaccination status and test results to anyone who would want to be informed of such frightfully critical details, in London.  But not a soul was concerned about what we were or what our Covid status was!  There seemed to be perfect indifference about you, just as in normal times. Looked like they did not care so long as you stayed Airside and did not shove your nose into the rest of England beyond the airport.  One line somewhere in the policy/rule book would have clarified this to harassed travellers but they did not think it was necessary.

Similar was the uncertainty on the return trip through Paris.  We were disheartened by the fact that there is no uniform rule regarding when you had to take the test for travel.  For India it was `not earlier than 72 hours' and for Paris `it was not earlier than 48 hours'.  Logically, the latter test would have covered the former also, but then there were timing issues which could have screwed up our plan if the results do not appear in time for our travel.  So, we were wondering if we had to do one test for India and another for Paris, because India test was far more critical and there was absolute lack of clarity about test for Paris as a transit point.  I was ready to do two tests, like that genius of an individual who made two holes in his door for his cats to move about - one large hole for the bigger cat and another smaller one for the small ones.  Fortuitously, at the last moment we chanced upon a Air France web site which clearly stated that no test is required for transit passengers, same as London.  That released me from the horns of dilemma where I stayed on tenterhooks for a couple of days before departure.

Why can't all countries agree on tests 72 hours before travel and no tests for transit points as uniform rules and pronounce them prominently to help the hassled passengers?  Too much to ask? 

All said and done, we were okay with the wintry trip to New York, but will probably take any suggestion of a future winter trip under advisement, only to decline vigorously.        

 

Sobering, But Hilarious Appraisal!!

Two days ago, I delivered this note - "Folks, don't shudder.....no blogpost is attached.  I have been seeing a general diminishing of interest in reading during the pandemic (very surprising, I would think people would read more for want of other forms of entertainment).  Readership of my blogposts is no different.  So, I thought we should all take time off.  I, from spewing out my kind of stuff and you from suffering through those pages.  This is a temporary pause - sorry to disappoint those among my readers who would rather see a permanent closure.  Shall regroup after the new year, whenever spirits look up.  Till then, taken care and stay well.  Thanks.  Varad"

When I sent out that 'excuse-me-for-now' note to all those to whom I usually and dutifully send my blogposts, I expected to receive some neutral responses from a few friends, tut-tutting profusely.  Please note, I am carefully avoiding saying `sent to all of my readers' because while I surely send them out, reading them is obviously a choice and many might choose to swipe left to banish the posts out of existence.  Believe me I am not complaining, not at all; instead I am happy that I have retained a large part of my reader-base (I am not disclosing how big that is!!) even after some 12 years of what some merciless recipients would consider a monthly nuisance.  But, I am overwhelmed by the deluge of messages received in response, ranging from a somewhat dejected `Oh, No' to a solicitous`Varad, stay well'.  In between there were many other shades of feelings I deciphered in the messages received and then this thought struck me.  Why not make an absolutely unscheduled and bonus blogpost of this event before all of us take a break.  I hope you don't mind! 

A few people wrote with emotion, to convince me that their lives seriously depended on reading my blog.  That it provided the sustenance they require to wade through this existence without too much pain. That bereft of the `sahara' of my blog, they may struggle to make sense of their lives.  I am, of course exaggerating, but there were quite a few like that. If I were a sucker for good words, I would have immediately felt the weight of my ego growing on me and would have readily imagined I have gained a halo too! 

Then there were those who completely ignored what I said was the reason that prompted me to opt for the break - that readership has reduced somewhat and generally people seem to be reading less and less; I perceive some fatigue in the masses! They precipitously concluded that something is terribly wrong with my psychological or at least physical health and assembling a few decent sentences successfully as I used to, is for now beyond my capability.  So those questions have come in a flurry - `Are you okay, please take care'; `Hope whatever is wrong does not affect you much, God bless';  `Praying for your recovery and return to blog-writing' and so on.  So, I am gratified to see that some have at least read the `pausing' message even if they do not habitually read the blogs and what is more, responded too.

There is this group of `readers' (they do read the blogs, I know), who apologetically told me `Even though I might have missed a couple of blogs of yours, I promise I read all of them; so don't take the fall in readership to heart.  Continue to strangle us with your words'.  This group of friends was pointedly telling me not to place the guilt of diminishing readership at their doorsteps and they wanted to be absolved of that responsibility pronto.  I am waiting for a few comments on some on old blogs from such people to reinforce this sentiment. That would definitely make me feel good.

Some others even went to the extent of questioning my judgement that less people were reading the blogs of late. They forcefully said that cannot be true - such reassuring darlings!!  A few reasoned that just because people refrained from commenting, it does not mean that they were not interested in the blogs.  They seemed more offended at the prospect of my losing readers than I myself would ever be!  I am touched and with such a protective and massively encouraging group of people around me, I do not have to worry about ever becoming completely `reader-less'.  And, if ever I want a trolling group from my readers to go after `non-readers' or anybody else, I know I can turn to this group of avid consumers to get the job done.  Some small comfort.

One set of people advised me that even if many readers drop off, I should not bother about that and continue to write because others are going to be with me. They have taken the high moral ground, saying `you write - that is your karma, do not worry about who reads'.  A couple even quoted Bhagavad Gita and readily assumed the role of Krishna to my Arjuna. I am truly humbled, friends.  I am reproducing a message verbatim here - `Your writing does not need some dumb audience to justify its existence.  Aap karm karte jao, phal ki chinta mat karo... Krishna says... also remember, ur writings will remain in ether for ever. There will always be a very long tail. Many great works got recognition many years of their creation..'.  This writer has been a dear friend for a few years now and has just become dearer!!

A few sent emoticans like 😑,😒,😡,😢,😊 -- succinctly teaching me that one does not have to waste so many words in a blogpost to express something.  I have made up my mind to one day write a blogpost with more emojis and less words.  That day will also come, I am sure.

One well-wisher just asked `Are you travelling'?  Many just said neutrally `Take care, Varad'.  This is the group which knows me well enough to have decided that nothing could be wrong with the chap, `he is just sparing us temporarily, God bless him and let us leave him alone'. A few said with glee that this short message was even funnier than a full blog, may be thereby obliquely suggesting that I should restrict myself to short messages!   

Net, net -- I am glad I sent out that excuse-me-for-now note. It has given me the rather unexpected opportunity to write a blogpost on next to nothing!! In the process, I got to know my readers better and also saw a groundswell of support for me (if not my writing), which is very comforting.  I thank all my readers (and non-readers) for sustaining me for 12 years and reassure you I am not going away!  And it is not that I cannot write a few more pages every month, but it is just that the author senses that the reading public needs some space and a break.  I respect that a lot.

Au Revoir, not good-bye.

  

    

   

This Obsession With Cinema

It is common knowledge that an average eight-year-old in Thamizh Nadu (for that matter, this is probably true of Andhra, Telengana and Karnataka also) would be better informed on movie matters than other fields of knowledge.  This inherited and infectious wisdom is derived from being associated with front-running elders. These worthies are so steeply immersed in cinema and are exposed continuously to its concomitant effects in their daily lives, that most people within a radius of fifty kilometres cannot escape their ubiquitous influence. Thamizh Nadu politics has been dominated by film people -- heroes, heroines, writers, producers et al -- so much that invariably it has become difficult to distinguish between politics and cinema as they run concurrently in the state. The aspiration of any actor with a reasonable fan base is eventually to enter politics and hog the limelight for some more years, because such actors would rather continue to `act' in politics than lose their halo progressively and fade away.  Acting is an inevitable, major ingredient in politics, as we know, since most of the politicians are just play-acting much of the time, whether it be delivering fake promises, hugging old men and women in a display of boundless affection, seemingly listening with all sympathy to the down-trodden people intently, even as they are planning the next scene somewhere else.

What is rather sad is that the gullible population (a good portion of that, anyway) also takes the bait more often than not,  emotionally recalling a few flashy, socially relevant dialogues or lines from songs the actors had delivered in their various movies, with the specific objective of encashing the goodwill on some future poll date. Ageing actors in Tamil Nadu, during their last decade, start cultivating the audience to receive them as their future political leaders sooner or later.  Their films are full of dialogues and scenes, which depict them as saviours of the common man, protectors of women and small children and generally the do-gooders for  humanity at large.  Modern actors believe that just because one MGR and one Jayalalitha successfully transformed himself/herself thru this process, they can all do that. Fact is, very few succeed to even scratch the surface, but this has not discouraged a succession of actors from trying.  Some older heroes are testing the arena even as you read this and are getting scalded in the process.  There are a few somewhat sensible actors, who desire the aura, but decide they may not be up to it.  They dodge the issue by forever staying on the sidelines and rolling out justifications and excuses for not taking the final plunge. None of this knowledge seems to dampen the adulation of the movie-crazy populace, which fervently hopes that such actors hold the panacea for all their ills and see them as leaders who can wave their magic wand and solve all the problems. When elders in the population go this way, what chance do the impressionable young ones have? They dutifully pick up the signals early enough and follow all the way.

Thamizh TV stations are full of film stuff, you will know if you have surfed stations for just a few minutes.  If it is not a segment of film songs or films themselves,  (there are stations which do this 24/7), there are interviews with actors/directors interspersed with clips from their films or with playback singers/music composers, peppered with their abbreviated songs and so on.  Otherwise there are these all-pervasive TV serials, which mimic films in all ways.  Of late, in the name of innovations, they have progressed along cinema lines to include action and dance sequences too. While TV actors do not have the chutzpah to attract the same kind of viewership as movie actors, they manage to occupy people's mind space simply by appearing on TV every single day for a few years continuously, through those so-called mega serials.  And then there are those panel discussions about something or the other, in which at least two film personalities appear, only because the subject matter has some streak of a connection to films.  Even if there is no real or imagined relevance, it does not matter because movie people are always welcome, anytime, anywhere.  When stations think people would have had enough of movies, TV stations 'innovatively'  replace them with Super Singer programmes, which laudably aim to bring out young talent by making them sing all those memorable old and new film songs.  And of course, they are judged by a fixed panel of erstwhile playback singers, complemented by a rolling stock of film stars.  So cinema world does not give you a inch of space to breathe freely, but hustles you everywhere.

TV is so obsessed with cinema that even when some events worthy of reporting occur, such events get a passing mention and stations are back to their favourite pastime forthwith.  I am sure,  regretting the loss of those two minutes which they spent on the serious newsbreak!  Even when the China-India border skirmish was on all national TV channels, Tamil TV stations seem to swat the subject aside to focus on what they prefer to do. On all holidays, including Sivarathri, Krishna Jayanthi, Mahatma Gandhi's birth day, Teachers' day, etc nothing changes and all the channels are full of movies, more movies and special screenings of movies.  And, of course, the movies do not pretend to be recalling any specific occasion.  

Take a look at all the Thamizh periodicals (weeklies, fortnightlies) and you will get sure-fire proof of the film craze that stalks Tamizh Nadu. And this burning fanaticism and the need to satisfy that as felt by the magazines is made starkly evident if you casually turn the pages. Even erstwhile cultured publications, famous for their quality output involving history, arts, poetry, tradition, values etc have now been forced to commit pages to filmy content. If you count the pages dedicated to cinema stuff, that invariably amounts to about 40-50 percent in most magazines.  Including interviews with actresses who have just been signed up for their first movie and the shooting is yet to start. Now 'what can they say to edify any reasonably intelligent man or woman?' is a legitimate question, but then the publications do not make the mistake of assuming that all their readers are intelligent.  You cannot blame them because that is how the herds have been behaving, I guess. Their take would be that this is what sells and they just pander to people's current tastes.  Add to this, all those adverts which show film folks trying to sell various products, by doing everything from wielding brooms, chewing pan, walking in dhoties, selling dog food to plugging for new housing projects 'which are veritable heavens-on-earth' in god-forsaken locations, some 100 kms away from Chennai.  It will definitely be a challenge for anyone to read the bulk of the magazines (it wont take too much time, given the triviality of the stuff published) for a few weeks and come out confidently and say that he/she learnt something useful, unless of course, it involves the tinsel town!  Even quizzes are there, with readers' questions answered by, who else, some film director or actor. Given their expertise and domain knowledge, all the questions chosen are also about films, especially about film actresses. Sample this - `Which actress is the better dancer amongst A, B, C and D' (answer is - the type of dancing they have to do in films, anyone can do) or `Which actress delivers dialogues the best among X, Y and Z (answer is - none of them because they are not good at Thamizh and have others dub for them) and so on.  If at all there is a news item about a scientist or sportsperson or classical musician, that only appears in a brief, single column short, after the person has achieved an Olympic medal or Nobel prize or something of that magnitude.  Of course, occupying the rest of the spread is the photo of a starlet, trying to spread her wings.

Daily life in Chennai, as in other southern metros, is dominated by all those posters - small, medium, large and extra large - which are propped up by poles on the ground (which are stumbling blocks for walkers) or hoisted up on advertising platforms (which could fall apart and kill a few one day), in all nooks and corners. From where heroes and heroines strike all those popular postures enshrined in their respective movies.  It is clear that filmdom won't leave people alone even after they step outside their homes.  On the roads, there are gigantic cutouts of famous heroes, looking literally down upon people and smiling benevolently even as they are preparing for their political future.  Poster culture is so strong there that anyone who wants a bit of mind space of people has to find literal public place to park his posters, with a massive dose of inappropriate and mostly fictional self-praise. This can all be done easily and is par for the course only because the funding comes from the subject himself.  The truth is, not everyone who has erected cutouts - actor or otherwise - becomes an adulatory object of the people. Thank God for that.

So, inside homes or outside, if there is such an over-dose of cinema related pounding from multiple directions, how can a child or youngster escape the lopsided influence of that fictional world?  The one thing that has changed for the better in movies now is that unlike yesteryears when only a fair and good looking person could usually become the hero or heroine, now anyone can assume the mantle, regardless of complexion, looks, ability to act etc.  One only needs a financier to back you and mostly the parents take on that role avidly since no one would volunteer for that.  People like me will have to just sit moping around, ruing the chances we never had!

  

Where Has That Family Doctor Gone?

(With due apologies to all the doctors in my own family as well as those who are good friends - no offence, please.  Kindly take this as the usual random read for 5 minutes and do not abandon me as a patient when I come to consult you on my vulnerable days)

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This is not a one-man-experience.  This is the distilled wisdom gained from the nightmares of various friends and relatives, without any reference to specific hospitals or specialists. Instances are galore when we have heard of people going into a big city hospital with what seems to be a minor complaint to see a doctor, urged by wives like my own dear one, who is reading this piece now. Being forced to see ten other specialists in six hours and coming out wondering what serious malaises they have developed suddenly.  Because nothing conclusive is disclosed and judgement passed by the end of the day and they have to be subjected to another battery of tests the next day. You enter the room of the General Practitioner (GP) for a solution to the nagging head/body ache you have lived with for the past two years with no major discomfort. You think you will be out in fifteen minutes with some reassuring words and a comforting prescription from the good doctor.  But the whole proceedings spin entirely out of your control - not that you had much of that to begin with - during the next thirty minutes and soon you are left wondering if your days in the world are numbered due to some serious, unidentified malignance afflicting you, with no one making you wiser.

First up, you have grown up with such mild niggles bothering various body parts all your life, you should know when it is serious enough to warrant a visit to the doctor.  Never to succumb to the badgering of that worthy who drives your life all the time. Secondly, if you have the option of visiting a doctor who practises in a small clinic of his own somewhere, be smart enough to choose that option.  And avoid like the plague, that big hospital with all the specialists in all the disciplines and all the bells and whistles, required by the medical care experts and health insurance companies.  If you ignore these warnings and enter a corporate hospital with a big brand name, then be prepared to be sucked into the following whirlwind of a routine in the next few hours.  You go the GP to get rid of the mundane muscle spasm or sprain in your leg. There is a possibility that a junior doctor, who is learning the ropes from the senior, screens you first.  Once you have answered all the questions multiple times and a fact sheet is filled up, your file is forwarded with you to the senior.  When the senior asks the same or more questions, there is a chance that he discovers that the junior goofed up somewhere and insists on having an inquisition right then and there in your presence.  All polite and seemingly harmless, of course, but nevertheless the junior goes through the extreme discomfiture of being grilled in the presence of the patient. But the overbearing senior has no qualms because he always does this in the presence of patients for that extra bit of satisfaction and fun derived.  Once this process is over and the junior is suitably chastised for assuming he is the same as the senior in terms of prowess, the problematic location in the body is examined collectively by the junior, senior, a nursing assistant and a couple of even more junior interns, apart from any paying spectators if they are interested. Nobody gives a damn if you are feeling like a worm under a microscope and would rather shove all the attention away, so you put up with that circus with you serving as an object of instruction and edification. Just as you are hoping that a prescription will be given and you could be on your way, you realise that what is transpiring is only Act 1, Scene 1 and a whole lot is yet to follow - picture abhi bhaki hai dost!

After a rapid-fire exchange amongst them, the senior tells you that you should see a Physiatrist (read the spelling carefully, there is definitely no artist hiding here, but a muscle specialist) for further examination and opinion.  Fortunately there is one just two cabins away for the convenience of sacrificial lambs like you and thus begins your grand tour of the various nooks and corners of the hospital facilities. Of course, the GP and the Physiatrist are good friends and this kind of mutual passing of the patient happens frequently for whatever reasons.  Now, the same scene which played in the GP's cabin is replayed in the Physiatrist's domain.  After fifteen minutes of talking and examination, the judgement is given that the problem is not with the muscle.  Your file grows a bit fatter with a couple of more sheets, being the contribution of the Physiatrist and you return to the GP and wait for the file also to make the same journey through official channels.  After listlessly waiting for half an hour for the busy GP to see you again, he beams looking at the file as if he has found the panacea for all your current and future ailments and declares `I knew it was not the muscle, that is why I sent you to the Physiatrist.  Now, I recommend you meet the Orthopaedic who is on the first floor'.  

The Ortho is even busier than the two previous doctors put together (it is obvious that bones are made a lot flimsier by God nowadays thereby making the ortho a flourishing line), so you wait for an hour more and watch the endless procession of  people in casts, just plain limpers, some on wheel chairs and some really serious cases brought on stretchers.  Your mind is whirring about, wondering which category you will soon be put into, without realising it is not so simple.  The ortho looks at the body part and asks you if you have an x-ray.  When the response is negative, he just brusquely nods to the nurse, who prepares a prescription to be signed him, asking for an x-ray of your leg in frontal and side views.  The radiology department is on the 5th floor and you wait for the lift to avoid straining your leg even further.  There are six lifts but all of them arrive full, you run jostling among the people to enter but for some strange reason, they depart without taking anybody in or ejecting anyone out.  After a repetition of this tamasha for the next ten minutes, you get fed up and climb the stairs.  Here is the nub. If your foot was okay to begin with and there was just a small swelling, this entire ordeal would have aggravated the problem quite a bit and provided some fodder for the ortho.  In the X-ray room, you wait for another forty five minutes because all those limpers, wheel chair occupants, stretcher dwellers and other assorted people in casts have already camped here before you, gaining seniority over you in the order. When your turn comes, you undress partially and get your legs twisted in five different ways for four exposures to x-ray.  They would examine the film and invariably find that one of them is not really the piece of art that they expect their work to be, so they will go through the rigour once again.  X-ray personnel would tell you that the films and the report will be ready in the evening and can be picked up from the reception.  When you dumbly stare at their faces and mumble that the Ortho is waiting for the films, they will hum and haw, stage a mini-conference of sorts and make a huge concession to say they will send the films and the report to the Ortho eventually (please don't try to fix a time) and you should go back to him and yes, wait longer.

The direct line from the radiology department to the Ortho's cabin would take four minutes to cover, if the lift blesses and accommodates you and ten if it does not.  But the film would not arrive for another hour and a half, as if it was transiting through the International Space Station.  Invariably, this means you would make at least one additional trip to and from the Radiology section to remind them, by now limping a bit and putting additional strain on the already doddering leg. When the film finally arrives and the Ortho takes a peek, he would shake his head dubiously such that you wonder if you require an amputation forthwith.  But that head shake was indicative of the fact that the Ortho did not see much more scope for extracting anything from you, based on the x-rays.  He declares suavely, pointing you in the direction of the x-rays on his well-lit screen, `I cannot see anything wrong with the leg in the x-ray'.  So, if you thought of jumping in joy because your ordeal has come to an end and you can go home, you should hold your horses - he grimly says `it is better if you get a scan done.  Sometimes we can see things in the scan which are not visible on x-rays'.  Interestingly, if you were carrying an MRI film and no x-ray, there is one hundred percent chance that the Ortho would feel that x-rays would be more helpful than the MRI film.  Either way, you are stuck without an immediate exit route, unless you are peeved enough to turn your back on the entire dog and pony show.

Now, Hamlet kind of decision time for you.  `To do MRI or not to do that'.  Apart from the fact that it costs a bomb, it is a very spooky experience, when you are completely cut off from the rest of the world, shoved into and incarcerated within a tomb like structure, which makes a hell of a lot of rattling noises of various types and decibel levels. Your initial apprehension as you are moved into the machine will soon grow to panic as you imagine that all the others leave you inside for incubation and go away for the day and there is no way for you to get out of the machine. And it is a thirty minute joy ride.  The left side of the remnants of your brain will initially tell you `no need, go home, they are making a sucker out of you'; followed by `what if there is some serious problem in the leg which can be identified only through MRI, so do it', thereby creating a serious conflict you need to untangle.  Not wanting to come to the hospital again, you go through the MRI, repeat the x-ray film experience and finally meet the Ortho with the MRI films.  Now his well-lit screen is fully occupied by the films and he points out various segments, explaining something which you don't get any way.  Finally, he says ` I will give you a prescription.  You see me after 10 days'.  Just like that.  It is all over.

You numbly stare at the prescription, which says `Dolo 650 1-0-1 x 5 days, Any pain relieving spray - twice a day'!! You wonder whether to laugh in relief or cry in despair.  The whole hospital experience involving 8 hours and 15,000 rupees for just that, you may wonder.  Yes, you could have done that yourself without any GP or specialist looking at the problem.  The situation would have been somewhat better if you had gone to a neighbourhood doctor practising in his own small cubicle.  He would have, at the most,  wanted an x-ray and the whole issue could have been resolved with that, hopefully.  That too, only because the Physiatrist or Ortho or other specialists are not available in the vicinity and there is no MRI available on the premises for him to refer you to.

Either way, you would go home, do hot water fomentation twice a day, take Dolo twice a day and do the spray joyfully twice a day.  Phew, what a tour of the hospital to get that pleasure!!  When I describe the whole process with a healthy dose of scepticism to my dear wife, she looks at me with sympathy and says a big hospital is better any day - no explanation offered, but to be understood.