Diwali Entertainment
"I have decided o put up a Tamil comedy for Diwali,"
announced a patient. "I don't like all the pollution crackers produce. As for the new movie releases, don't even get me started. A bunch of young men from the star fan club were bursting crackers on the road. One actually pushed another in front of my car. Luckily I braked in time. As for television--- it poisons the mind."
I wasn't really paying attention, as I tried to calculate the dosage for his diabetic medication. Perhaps the high results (including the three-month HbA1c values) were due to sweet and namkeen sampling for Diwali?
He droned on. Finally, he said "so I will see you on Tuesday. Thank you so much for agreeing."
It transpired that I had agreed to be the chief guest for his play!
He sent an invite which stated
"Please be seated 30 minutes before the performance. Play starts promptly at 7 pm. Tickets Rs 200/Rs 500 /Rs 2000."
At 6:30, I reached the venue. The auditorium was packed. Someone had circulated a rumour that a famous Tamil movie star was attending. At 7:15 the producer announced: "now we will light the lamp."
I looked up hopefully. Perhaps this was why I was invited?
He started announcing someone else's name. There was no movement from the audience. After 10 minutes and repeated announcements, his daughter came on stage and whispered loudly into the mike ," they have not come."
"Why?" asked the man.
"Perhaps because you asked him to buy 2000 rupee tickets---"
Every word was clearly audible.
The audience started to laugh. A few people clapped their hands.
He then called for his mother to light the lamp. After a couple of announcements, the realised that she had not turned up either. They contacted her by phone. The daughter did not bother to go off stage to use the phone nor did she switch off the mike.
"Patti, " she said, "where are you?"
"I am at home watching TV," said a voice over the phone. "I got tired of your play watching the rehearsals itself."
The producer was beginning to look wild-eyed.
I was beginning to wonder if this was some sort of Avante garde production.
He saw me sitting there. (By this time I was beginning to feel like an extra fitting and to wonder why I had turned up at all.)
"Madam, please come on stage."
It was already 8:30. The audience was beginning to hoot.
I tried to light the lamp, but the lighter did not work. The audience started whistling and shouting.
The daughter came back and said, "Daddy, the hero has gone home."
This was too much for me. I crept off the stage through the wings.
An entire row of the audience (obviously one large joint family) stood up.
"Good show!" they shouted "good performance." they clapped and clapped. Then they walked out en masse.
Confused by this turn of events, convinced the play was over, many members of the audience got up and started leaving.
As I made my way to the parking lot I heard sundry people at the ticket counter demanding their money back.
The producer was still not aware that the mike was on. He told his daughter "Take the car, go to the hero's house and bring him back!"
This loud statement added to the utter chaos. There was no Tamil hero, and it looked like there was going to be no play either. More people left and demanded refunds. It looked like a riot in the making.
I ran for my life.

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The horoscope lady

The Horoscope Lady

I had a very interesting patient, a lady who was a marriage broker. She had a very high success rate with arranged marriages and alliances for her particular community. She was not computer literate, but she stored volumes of information in longhand in alphabetically arranged notebooks. Marriages also require matching horoscopes. She had that little detail sewn up too. Her husband was a pandit who specialized in numerology and horoscopes. She never had a problem with horoscopes that did not match!

Over the years I encountered many couples, local products of her profitable business.

One couple came because they had been married for two years . They had no children and she  did not menstruate at all for months on end. As she sat on the examination table, I could not but help notice her hairstyle. It was an old-fashioned 70's beehive like the film star Sadhana had, with her hair pulled on her head in a bumpy layer.

 Itouched it, only to find it was  not  really her  hair at all. She had a bony conical steeple head (from birth ) smaller than average. She just covered it with hair. She was also mentally challenged.

"Did you not notice this?" I asked her husband.

" She told me it was always like this."

It probably was. It turned out she has microcepahly (mld) steeple head seizures----.

Another lady was an engineer with a good job. She married a 10 std (I suspect, failed candidate). The photograph he sent for the prospective alliance had him standing leaning on a Swift car with a cell phone to his ear.  He claimed he was exporting leather goods. Later it turned out he had no job, no income no car---. The only belonging was the cell phone.

He expected his wife to run the house, pay for everything and cook him delicious meals "just like mummy."

I asked her "How could you do this? Did the horoscopes in these cases really match?"

"I always match it for  my client. The girl may be lacking intelligence but what a good match it for her! She has found a caretaker for the rest of her life! She is my client. Not him."

"What if he divorces her?"

"I doubt he will,' said the horoscope lady, "In that family they do not divorce. Second wife yes. Divorce no."

I was shocked. "Won't she be ill-treated by the second wife?"

"No," said the lady confidently, "his horoscope shows only one wife."

"What about the poor engineer?"

"He is my client. His life is made. He doesn't have to do anything now, no work at all. It is her fate."

The horoscope lady herself had no children. She adopted a girl who grew up and went to college. She managed a really good alliance for her. A normal looking lawyer with plenty of property to his name.

"How about your daughter's horoscope? How did they agree? You don't know her time or place of birth!"

"What about it? The horoscope  has to be good! How else did she get picked up from the orphanage , educated in a good English medium school, go to college and get jewels! How can it possibly be bad? So I wrote a good one for her. She is a Lakshmi and a bhagyavathi!"

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Silambattam fall out

”I will be cancelling class today” announced my silambattam teacher,” I have to be in the police station by 8 am. I will come tomorrow.”

“Why?” I asked worried, “do you want me to speak to anyone? What happened?” (The local DIG used to be my hammer throw instructor).

I heard the whole story later.

Apparently, he was training eight teenagers, 6 boys and two girls, in an empty lot at 5:30 in the evening. He went a little way down the road with the boys to pick up new “short sticks “ for training which he had left there.

The girls were practising their jumps and flips. Their  six-foot long bamboo poles were on the ground.  Four young men surrounded them.

“Hey beauty,” said one leering and moving closer.

“Go away, “ said the girl.

He advanced closer. He sang a love song in Tamil. He stroked her arm---. “one of you for each of us “ he said and grabbed her closer.

This was too much. The girls picked up their sticks and expertly thrashed the young men. Three ran away. One was felled to the ground.  He lay there screaming, “save me, save me.”

Fortunately, the teacher reached before they killed him.

As he too ran away, his arm was hanging at a peculiar angle.

The boys returned with the local panchayat leader and others.”This girl broke my arm, said the boy, pointing to one of the girls.

“I am going to file an FIR,” said the father “you will pay for this.”

The next morning they all assembled at the police station. The Inspector started smiling when he heard the story. He turned to the boy’s parents, “are you sure you want to file an FIR?  This girl can also file one. He touched her first. She has three witnesses. She is a minor. He is an adult. This case is molestation of a minor. He will go away for at least four years. Nothing will happen to her. It is self-protection.”.

“What about his arm?” asked the irate father. “It cost me a lot of money for treatment—Xray, plaster cast etc. He cannot use his arm for a month”.

The inspector called the girl forward. “Do you want to file a case. “

Before she could answer, the boy’s father said “ all right, all right we are leaving.”

“Tell your son to apologize to the girl” said the inspector lifting his pen.

The words stuck in his throat but the boy managed an apology.

As they were leaving the inspector said, “what sort of an undisciplined rowdy are you bringing up? Encouraging him to molest girls! He doesn’t seem to have any brains either. Who will touch a girl when she has a six-foot bamboo pole in her hand?”

birthday 2018

Thank you for your birthday greetings. I was really happy when I saw messages , from friends, family, classmates (batch of 69), banks and the insurance companies.
On a high, I left for the swimming pool in the morning itself. On the way back, at that hour, the road was fairly deserted. There was a man urinating with a happy face on a tamarind tree.
"Aha," I thought , "I am 66". I drove the car close to his butt honking continuously. He leapt out of the way using  both legs, totally exposed, like he was playing leapfrog.
My endorphins kicked in, and on a total high, I left for work.
En route to the clinic, an auto kept honking behind me. The policeman in front of me was signalling "STOP".
The auto driver did not care.
When the policeman signalled "go" I drove close to him.
"Sir," I said, "the auto driver behind me is insisting I run over you because you are in the way."
The policeman left his station and advanced threateningly towards the auto.
A helmetless bike rider cut across in front of me from left to right.
"Informed Yamagandan before leaving home?" I yelled.
By that time I had neared the clinic so more dignified behaviour was warranted.
Higher than a kite, when  I reached work I was nice to my patients all day.
"Oh, I asked you to immunize your child and you have not bothered to turn up for a year. Let us see what we can do."
To the teenager with PCOS, "I asked you to diet and exercise to lose weight. You have gained 4 kilos? No exercise ? No diet?''
To the parent of the child with seizures, "You have discontinued your seizure medications because your neighbour who has studied up to 8th std says they cause side effects?"
No yelling  at all.
I treated my staff to lunch.
We left for Chennai and  had an enjoyable family dinner in Chennai with my daughter and family at a "multi-cuisine" restaurant. (A very Indian concept-- I have never seen the words "multi-cuisine in any other country.")
THANKS AGAIN.
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Fat lady dancing

Fat lady Dancing

After a year and a half of relatively enforced inactivity (torn Achilles tendon, paralyzed muscles) I put on 10 kilos. Horrified, with half my clothes too tight to wear, I decided to learn dancing. There are many advantages. You learn rapid alternating movements, you have to concentrate, you burn calories, and it is fun. Hopefully, it also offsets any dementia that might be waiting to attack.

The teacher was so thin that he looked and moved like a  double jointed pencil. His hips were definitely attached to his spine by extra "wheelies" joints, like the wheels on my samsonite suitcase which can  move and swivel 360 degrees with ease.

The rest of the class had been dancing for some time, so I positioned myself  where I had a clear view of the teacher and could hopefully imitate every move and gyration.

I could not keep up. I did one move for every two performed by the class. I moved right arm and right leg instead of the left arm and right leg. When the entire class advanced to the right, I consistently moved to the left. I bumped into the dancers on both sides. The ladies to the right and left of me moved politely to a row behind. I was given "my space"

The teacher suddenly waved his right hand in the air. I shook my left. The class tied itself in tangles. Apparently, it was a signal to keep moving in the direction of the hand.

Suddenly he gave a clap, and everyone turned clockwise in a cirle. I stood stock still, too taken aback to move. When the next clap came, I was ready. I turned in a full circle, only to find it was a signal for the entire class to stand in two straight lines.

The line in front moved forwards to music, clapped and then moved back. I did too, only to find myself  eyeball to eyeball with the lady in front t of me. Apparently that you move backwards first and forwards later.

After 50 minutes some slow music came on and voila!  I was able to keep up!

"How was the class?" Asked the teacher politely.

"Very good," I said, "especially the steps and music in the last 10 minutes. I was able to keep up."

He gave me a strange look.

"That was the cooldown, not the dance --"

As I was leaving a slim young flexible fit girl confronted me

"You need to lose weight," she said "then you will be able to dance. Why don't you miss a few meals."

I guess she meant well. Her advice is scientifically sound.  But one thing is for sure; dancing makes you ravenously hungry. I headed home as fast as I could for a good dinner.

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I have a weak leg, so I go to our neighbourhood pool at 6 am and kick the water in the mornings. No one usually comes at that time, so I can also lower myself into an aqua jogger and "run" from one end of the pool to the other. I dio have some company though, the lifeguard and a"meditator", an old man who treads water in the middle of the pool with his eyes shut and two fingers to his forehead.

"Coaching starts tomorrow" announced the lifeguard one day, "classes for beginners."

The meditator lost his balance sank and spluttered.

"How many?"  I asked.

"Thirty" he said.

The next month was a nightmare. The adults who tried to learn found it very hard. They did not like to put their heads into the water. With two legs firmly fixed on the ground in the 4 ft pool, they sputtered and sank. They attached themselves to the side of the pool like limpets ad refused to release their hold.  Young and old women wore modified swimming costumes. The costumes had long sleeves and little skirts. Not satisfied, they wore their own innerwear or T shirts under this. They wore long leggings. The men wore Bermudas. Some of them wore T shirts as well.

I guess no one had heard of "drag." Air formed pockets in between the layers of clothing pulling the  swimmers down.

After two weeks they were promoted to the big pool with three lifeguards at attention. They still hung on to the  four side walls.

One day they were  taken to the deep end and asked to "jump'' in. After this they had to reach the wall. Any stroke, even dog paddle was fair game. Everyone did more or less what they were told. One little girl flung her self off the side, headed for the coach who was   treading water and climbed on his head. Chaos resulted, but he managed to haul her to the side (Luckily she was one of the few people wearing  X back swimsuit. Catching her was relatively easy, he lifted her  out by her back straps.

"Jump one at a time" he yelled, "jump, jump" at the cringing adults.

Suddenly a fully clothed three year old in "Lehenga dupatta" leapt in holding a box in one hand. She was not part of the class. He hauled her out.

"What are you doing? You are not part of this class!"

"Uncle " she replied accusingly, "you kept shouting jump, jump. Today is my birthday. I came with sweets because my brother is learning. You told me to jump!"

No one has  any answer for that. (Not even her wailing mother)!

Thank God the month is over and school has started. The pool is empty. The meditator and I are back in action. The good news? The children all learnt. The adults? I saw a couple of them yesterday practicing by themselves in the four-foot pool.

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petrol scams

Buying Petrol

Modi declared that “henceforth petrol bunks would accept credit cards for payment “ and I was very happy. Previously in the small smart town of Vellore you had to move your car to one side, avoid being bit by two wheelers, go into an office and swipe the card. Now all the attenders had a device with them! Added incentive you received some money back.

The attenders at the bunks were unhappy. Swiped bills meant no more “adjustments” were possible. Especially in taxis and other non owner driven vehicles, they asked if “you really want the bill?’ and sometimes “how much shall I write on the bill?”

I don’t know who was skimming. The workers or the owners.

I always put petrol in a particular bunk. It comes up on the left side, on the highway before the turning to my house. It is very convenient. For the last three months they have been saying, “the credit card machine is broken.”

This week I hoped the machine was repaired and went to put petrol.

“No machine, said the man , “cash only.”

There was no manager in the office and no telephone numbers for complaints.

“I don’t have enough cash,” I said.

“Go to the ATM” said the attendant.

Two young men loitering on a motor cycle immediately lifted their heads and looked at me with great interest.

The ATM was further down the road , it was already dark. The security guard frequently left the place after tying his cow across the entrance. (After all, you cannot beat the cow, it is more precious than humans).

I thought  (in my mind by now they were thugs), they  would follow me to the ATM, demand my pin no, beat me or worse.

After counting all my money and change I produced Rs 1500/. I filled the tank.

The man in front of me had put Rs 200 worth of petrol. The attendant did not reset to zero but started filling.

I shouted . “Stop, stop.”He ignored me .

I shouted louder.

Then he said “okay I will put petrol for Rs 1700. You pay me Rs 1500.”

He gave me a bill fro Rs 1500. The meter clearly showed Rs 1700.

As I was leaving a man came with a 2 liter bottle.

“I always buy 2 liters”, he said, “then they can’t cheat me. The bottle has to be full.”

All this skull drudgery seems to be  an accepted way of life!

I complained bitterly to my son. He sent me link to the website of the company. I complained. They promptly called back and promised action.

Let us see. Words and empty promises are easy.

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