Politics in Vellore

Politics in Vellore

At first, I found it very strange that only people from some families in Vellore stood for elections. They also appeared to win generation after generation. It is almost like a family business. The net result? Vellore has been a DMK stronghold for as far back as I can remember. 

Finally, after winning four elections, the   old MLA died. He had no biological children, his adopted son refused to enter politics, and his grandson (who was interested), was too young to be  taken seriously , other families jumped into the fray.

 I then realized that it is not just Vellore, we are just a microcosm, politics is a family business all over the country. We have the same thing going on in the Congress party, Utter Pradesh, Bihar etc.

The new entrees into the murky world of politics in Vellore give several reasons for joining---

A woman who worked as cook,  was standing for the local panchayat elections.

“How did you get money? Did the party you are representing give it to you?”

Her explanation was quite bizarre. ”My father was run over by a truck when he was urinating on the road. I received a lakh of rupees. I decided to invest it in standing for the election.”

She had studied up to the fifth grade, so she was literate, but just about. One of the major political parties was supporting her. (Don’t they have a minimum educational qualification for these things?).

“I need to change the roof of my house. It leaks.”

“Are you going to invest your money in that?”

“Oh no”, she said, I am going to construct a new house.”

“With a lakh of rupees?”

“No, my husband said we will receive much much more as bribes. The area is near the river. Mining  of sand is illegal, so to allow it I will get a lot of money for that.”

“What about constructing toilets and other public works?”

“I don’t really care,” she replied “that  is their problem. After all we have managed without a toilet for so many years!”

(She lost the elections and her inheritance as well).

These local elections are a reflection of the larger picture in the state. Everyone looks for “freebies.” The local party workers have to distribute all kinds of things (mainly cash) before the elections. (The officially announced freebies come later). The money is provided by the party headquarters, workers siphon some off, and, by the time it reaches the candidate very little is left. They have to invest  money themselves and hope to make it back with a profit if and when they win. They work with the connivance of the electricity board. As they get ready to distribute the money the electricity to the locality is cut for a consideration. With 15-20 minutes the power is restored. The local workers know the bylanes and go house to house in the dark. The Election commission (from out of state) is clueless. The money is transported too with a great deal of ingenuity, in spare tyres, siren wailing ambulances etc 

Another family hit upon a sure fire strategy to win. They decided to run in tandem, one brother for the DMK and the other for the AIDMK. It became a standing joke in town. There was a third brother, who could have stood for the  BJP, making it a hat trick . Unfortunately he died a couple of years ago after choking on a samosa. Needless to say some other political aspirant sneaked to the head office of the party and one of them was denied a seat. Obviously parties are joined for convenience and very rarely for principles.

There is a widespread misconception that party workers should be provided a lot of free alcohol. They then  wander around the street  in motor rallies with red eyes and loud speakers. The general public stays well out of their way. The actual candidates stay sober though and surrounded by often drunk dancing party workers ask for votes with demure folded hands.

A couple of elections ago, a candidate’s brother was chased down the street by knife wielding assailants and then killed on one of the main streets in Vellore. Shocked passers by ducked into shops and no one tried to stop the two perpetuators.

Another party worker was decapitated on the main street a couple of years ago. One man decapitated him and lifted his head up Roman style. The other held bystanders at bay.

Later on it turned out that political rivalry was not the reason at all. He was involved in  shady real estate dealings. Most of the dealings were with unaccounted money. Some one somewhere along the way someone was cheated and this was payback. There was also a love angle to the whole business. Blaming politics was an easy way out.

The results are out and DMK has won again. It seems that people have now become tech savy. They know that there is no way the party workers can figure out who voted for whom. They just accept the cash and goodies and then vote as they please. Even religious leaders are not able to hold their flocks in check!

May be by the time the next election rolls around , more of the electorate will be educated and tech savy. It might take our leaders another 20 years to figure this out though!

Dr Gita Mathai

Health columnist The Telegraph Kolkata

Author: Staying Healthy in Modern India

Family Care Centre

13/1 Filter Bed Road

Vellore 632001

+91 416 2226204 (For appointments)

prohibition

Prohibition

It seems to be on everyone’s mind. Elections are around the corner. Kerala has introduced it and so has Bihar. All the political parties standing for election in Tamil Nadu have it as part of their manifesto!

Gujarat was the first state to enforce prohibition in 1949. This  was because it was the home of Mahatma Gandhi. It really did not do much to control   the availability of alcohol there. In the 60’s and 70’s my father often went there on official business. . All you needed was a permit form a medical practitioner saying that you were an alcoholic whose life was in danger without liquor! Most  of the hotels had a deal. Along with the check-in, you paid for a one month permit  and placed your order for your choice of liquor.  Liquor flowed in the official parties in which influential people socialized.

In 1969 Vellore was “dry,” with no rain and no alcohol. This did not prevent the medical students from enjoying their parties. Andhra Pradesh was “wet” with plenty of alcohol and the border was only 20-25 km from Vellore. There was a shack just that side of the border and the rustic bar did a thriving business. The  only problem was the check post. Sometimes they wanted a bribe, sometimes they just confiscated all the bottles. For medical students on a parental allowance this was not good news at all.

There was a network of smugglers-----.

“You need  to hold a red chili in your hand and walk around the bazaar. They will approach you—“ This was the sage advice of local boys. This was in stark contrast to winding a  jasmine chain around one wrist. That was the signal for wanting a call girl.

The weekend was approaching and everyone wanted to party.

“Let us pool our money and send two freshers to get the booze”.

The two young men wandered around the bazaar holding the red chilies. A disreputable tout soon approached them, in Tamil movie villain style with a pock marked face, with a cross-eyed squint, attired in a dirty lungi.

“Give me the money.”

“We can’t till we see the booze.”

“Come with me.”

He led them to the paddy fields surrounding the town. “It is in that hut,” he said pointing to a rundown structure.

The ground was wet and slushy. The two boys did not want to put their feet down.

“I will get it,” offered the tout.

They handed over the money and he disappeared into the recesses of the hut. After waiting for half an hour they started to panic.

“Quick take your sandals off. Let us go and see.”

By the time they reached, they could see the tout fleeing in the distant horizon, his lungi practically up to his waist. The hut was a façade, like a movie set.

They could not go back to the  “seniors”, with no money and no booze either.

That is when they met one of the local “mafia” a dada (godfather). He owned and ran a local bus service among other activities like a gym which was a cover for a gambling den. He gave them a bottle of whiskey, they were for ever grateful. More important they were loyal. This set up a long standing mutually beneficial friendship for generations of students. No one went to the Andhra border any more.

Prohibition was lifted a few years later. You could buy  liquor legally but only from government owned TASMAC shops. They were shady and the clientele drank outside the shop itself. There was a thriving business in scrambled eggs and fried chicken pieces outside the shops. Doctors, even the young ones, just could not go to the TASMAC shops. They felt they had to keep up “appearances”. Patients just might notice them there. The government also started selling pure alcohol (government arrack) in plastic sachets similar to milk packets. They were a big hit. It tasted vaguely like gin.

A few months later the Tamil Nadu and Andhra police conducted a joint raid in the wooded hilly area adjacent to the border. They found a whole factory  bottling arrack in IMFL (Indian Made Foreign Liquor). They had coloured the arrack with caramel, they had bottles and labels saying “Vat 69” and “Dimple scotch.”  Adulteration became a very real fear.

A couple of years ago the government opened the “Elite TASMAC” shops where you could buy vodka, beer brandy legally. It was the real thing! Now all that is going to be taken away from us again.

The “Intermedical” cultural and sports meets were held once a year. No one wanted to come to Vellore, but Pondicherry  (A Union territory taken over from the French) was a different kettle of fish, a favorite venue. There were beeches, free flowing booze (Pondicherry did not have prohibition)   and rumors of sexy French women. The students always tried to smuggle liquor back across the border into Tamil Nadu. The border police knew (I suspect the liquor shops informed them) so they sold the liquor, and then had it confiscated and returned to the shops for resale. The police made a tidy packet accepting tokens of cash for not arresting everybody. I suspect liquor shops did not have to renew their stock as frequently as their books showed.

The effects of the alcohol were far flung. The hockey team turned up on the field completely sozzled. They played brilliantly in the first half and actually scored three goals. During the second half they went completely to pieces. The forward finally shot a goal  in the second half, into the rival teams goal.

“What happened?” asked the coach.

“During  the  first half, we saw three balls so we hit the one in the middle. During the second half, we saw only two, so we didn’t know what to hit!”

After the elections, Tamil Nadu is going to experiment with prohibition again. I guess this means more across the border forays for students and others. VIT is strategically situated very close to the border----.

bible competitions

Bible Competitions

The Sunday school was having a bible verse competition. All the children were taking part. They did not announce what the prize was. I suspected it would just be a glorious leather bound bible. There was a lot of ego and prestige to winning. Someone circulated the rumour that the person who said the longest verse would get the prize.

Everyone was learning bible verses by heart. The long psalms, the never ending chapters in Isaiah were all hot favorites.   My son did not appear to be doing anything.

“Aren’t you taking part?”

“Yes”, he replied. “I have asked my grandfather which verse to learn”. He did not appear to be doing much more about it.

I called my father. “Have you given him a verse to learn?”

“Yes, “ said my father, “It is the same verse I recited and won the bible competition when I was in school.”

The day of the competition dawned and all the children lined up. I eyed the long queue with trepidation. I had ferried two other mother’s there., and between us I had 6 children to drive back home.

The long –winded verses got everybody down. Everyone forget, made mistakes, scratched their heads, looked into space, stared blankly, got stuck and repetitive and worst of all, some of them started again from the beginning when they made a mistake. One boy managed to reach the end successfully, only to forget the context, he forgot chapter and verse.

My son was at the tail end. He had refused all help for the preparation. He and his best friend had also once stood in the front of the church and sung an entire  hymn one verse ahead of everyone else. (They  started when the organist was playing the intro.) He was not too popular with the reverend or the Sunday school teachers.

As he stepped forward the reverend glared.

“Jesus wept. John chapter 11 verse 35  “ he announced, bowed and stepped down.

There was pin drop silence.

The judges had a long and heated discussion.

“He is the only one who got everything right.”

“He only said two words.”

“No actually he said six words.’’

“What about the girl who  attempted Esther 8:9”

“How can you even consider her?” She called the month of Sivan ‘Shiva’, she changed satraps to  ‘sandal straps’.

“What about the boy who recited from Isaiah?’’

“He got so tangled up that he mixed up the lines!”

“What about the psalm girl?”

“You are only supposed to recite one verse---- not an entire psalm out of order.“

“We did say recite correctly, not for  the longest time---.”

Yes John 11:35 won the prize.

trips to the usa

ravelling to the USA
I make an annual pilgrimage to see my son in the USA. I have been doing this for the last 8 years. There have always been catastrophes, mishaps and lots of tension. I sometimes feel I am a catalyst for disaster. Everyone else seems to travel with no problem at all!
This time the first lap of the journey was surprisingly uneventful. So far so good. The flight to Dubai was jam packed but the inflight entertainment was good. The flight change in Dubai was no problem. The signs and instructions were clear. 
I should have realized that my luck would not hold out. We boarded the relatively empty Airbus for the next lap to the USA. We sat in the plane and waited on the tarmac. I thought we were awaiting traffic clearance. People started to get restless. An hour after the scheduled departure we were still on the tarmac in air-conditioned comfort with inflight entertainment. 
“This is your captain speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts and remain seated. “ 
We all did, looking enthusiastically out of the windows. Instead of taking off, the plane doors opened, the Dubai police boarded the aircraft and escorted a woman seated five rows behind me off the plane. There was pin drop silence. No one even had a question to ask. 
“This is your captain speaking. As the security approaches you please identify your hand baggage. Any unidentified baggage will be off loaded. “
Apparently the women had left without her hand baggage. Another delay while they identified her checked in baggage as well. 
The normal Indian irritation and argument was noticeably missing! We left two hours later. A number of passengers were worried because they were convinced that they had missed their connecting flights. I was convinced we had escaped a hijacking! All the way, I sat sleeplessly, fervently hoping that she did not have an accomplice!
Last year I bought perfumes for the entire family in the USA itself. (Not in the duty free). When I reached Chennai, I proudly announced ,”I bought perfume for everyone!” 
I opened the bag with a flourish. I searched the baggage. Those were the only items missing from the bag in Chennai. The cardboard containers were there, quite empty---.The chocolates though were untouched! Perhaps a diabetic thief?
There has never been a trip without an adventure of some kind. One year, my luggage did not reach till 3 days later. I wandered around Iowa in my son’s track pants and sweat shirts. 
My son told his friends. “My mother has come to visit me. Her luggage hasn’t arrived , so she is wandering around in my clothes. I looked “homeless” so I tried not to go out for three days. 
I took Air India one year because it was Rs.20000 cheaper than any other airline. (It was before they introduced the dream-liner). I soon knew why. The food was bad, the salad was wilted and stale and the I suspected the chicken was “off.” The woman next to me said, ”Oh I always carry my own food when I travel Air India.” She proceeded to unwrap chola batura. She shared it with me too.
I sat awkwardly in the flight one year. My back started to hurt. I wobbled off the plain and looked at the carousal with trepidation. My two giant suitcases were packed to weight and capacity.
I sidled up to a young IT professional. “Can you help me with my suitcases?” He did. He did not anticipate the heavy weight. He lost his balance. We put in on the trolley with difficulty. (I helped too). He limped off glaring at me. I managed the second suitcase myself--.
The year following I missed my connection in Chicago itself (It was from Iowa to Chicago) . This meant I arrived half a day late in London. My international SIM worked only in the USA. I had no way of letting anyone know. My husband and daughter waited in Chennai airport. My son in the USA had no idea what had happened . There was general panic, but my son calmly said, “I put her on the first leg of the flight. After that she is the airlines problem. I am sure she will turn up”
I did, because they eventually put me on a flight to India. In exhaustion, I slept most of the way. I woke up in Bangalore instead of Chennai .
“Can I go ? I can take a taxi to Vellore. I don’t want to go all the way to Chennai---. I have to then backtrack to Vellore.“
“No,” explained the airline official, “Your luggage has already gone to Chennai. You have to clear immigration and customs there”. 
“When can I leave?”
“Only in the afternoon---.”
Wonder what next year holds for me?