Cats

 The cats at Dadar, Khodadad circle...

Driving around, loaded

Driving around, loaded, had another connotation. It meant, driving under the influence, which resulted in a spell in the lockup. In many cases it is very dangerous for the people sleeping on the road side, as some Cine Stars and a few rich people with their fancy cars, are very well aware. But here, my subject is different. It involves the latest craze, driverless cars. Or rather, the heavy weight category, the trucks. Yes, driverless trucks!!

Yesterday the first driverless truck was put into service after umpteen trials, in, where else, the United States of America! And imagine what would be its cargo. Hundreds of bottles of beer!! Why would anybody take a chance with beer? Why risk invaluable beer for the inaugural driverless drive of a truck. I mean, they could have used some other cargo, as a bait. Maybe, useless stuff like vegetables or grains. But no, they had to transport beer. If, God forbid, the driverless truck had met with an accident. Then all the madira would have gone down the drain, to bestow unexpected happy hours to the denizens of the underworld. But surprise! The driverless truck had a smooth journey to its destination, 200 km. away at a very safe speed of 83 km/hr. The task of transportation without a driver is achieved by a placement of assorted cameras and sensors all around the outside of the truck, giving it a 360 degree exposure. The sensors constantly sense the distance of the truck from any other physical object in its vicinity and the cameras give it vision. In the inaugural journey there was a driver, who remained in a non-driving position well away from the steering wheel. His function was to take over, only in case of an emergency or in case the various auto functions of the truck went kaput. Ultimately, he was proved to be an extra where the hero of the day was the driverless truck, gently escorting the coy beer from the factory to the waiting hands of the beer-bellied denizens of America.

But I shudder to even contemplate about the same scenario in India. At least, such fragile cargos , like beer bottles will not be transported through the driverless trucks. For one there are too many desperadoes in the prohibition states who will find out all the weaknesses of such transport. They will immediately grasp the weakness that such trucks will stop in case they come in front of it. And by the time the road is cleared again, the beer bottles would all have been escorted out from the back of the truck leading to the celebration of the happiest hours by all the forced non-drinking drunkards. So let's see how the driverless transport story unfolds in India.

Yatindra Tawde

What a day it was

This post is a part of Write over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian bloggers by BlogAdda.


Guys...it is not always that such days come into our life, which makes us say, WOW! I had such a day during my visit to God’s Own Country, Kerala.

I had gone to Kerala during the Diwali vacations with family in 2014...first stop Trivandrum...and as you might know, the city of Trivandrum is famous for the Shree Padmanabha Swamy temple...a very beautiful and majestic temple dedicated to the Lord Vishnu. And it goes without saying that we had to visit the temple . So we started for the temple from the hotel in an auto. After crossing many lanes and bylanes we reached the temple at @4.30 pm. Actually the auto dropped us at some distance away from the temple since autos or other vehicles are not allowed near the temple.
There is a huge archway through which you enter and as you near the temple you see the water tank near it. Water tanks near the temple are a hallmark of all small and big temples in Kerala. This water tank was very well maintained, with ducks swimming in it.

Anyway there were many other devotees like us who had come to take Darshan. My wife, myself and our daughter were proceeding towards the temple, like you approach any other temple in amchi Mumbai, when suddenly we heard shouts of  "MUNDU...MUNDU..."and a portly old gentleman in the typical dhoti worn by the denizens of Kerala came running towards us gesticulating wildly. A whole lot of syllables, mono syllables , syntax and maybe syntax errors shot off from his mouth, which I was not in a position to understand. Then he pointed towards his own lower garment, which was a dhoti, and pointed towards a shop on the road side. Finally through all these gestures I was able to make out that I too had to wear a dhoti, also known as a Mundu before entering the divine temple. And my wife and daughter too, had to wear the Mundum Neriyathum which are a combination of the lower and upper garments, unique to Kerala.

As we approached the shop we saw a crowd of people who were there to get these garments. The shop was selling these and the first thought that came to mind is, what to do with them after the visit is over. Anyways I pushed that thought to the back of my mind  and stood in line. Finally on reaching the counter I disbursed the payment and now became the proud owner of a Mundu.

Now the next question presented itself, which was, where do I change into it, and that too, modestly. While women had the option to wear the garments over their own clothes, the same option was not available to the men. I saw some men entering the same shop from a side door and I too joined the crowd. Since I have never worn this particular garment before, I was in a fix on how to go about it. So I started observing a few other men who were at it in all earnestness. Observing them I could make out there were many like me who were doing it the first time. Seeing them, I had a go at it. The first time I tried to wrap it around myself, as I passed the end from one hand to the other, it came off from the other side. I tried out a lot of permutations and combinations but without any luck. Then one gentleman pointed out that I cannot continue wearing my jeans below the mundu. That presented another challenge...now not only I had to wear the mundu properly, but also remove the jeans and ensure that the mundu did not come off while walking or something. I also had to ensure that it is not worn so tight, that I will be able to walk in only baby steps...too many challenges, to go in the presence of the Almighty.
Finally I applied my jugaadu dimaag...first I tied one end of the mundu to a clutch of mundu cloth securely (mundu is a long piece of cream coloured cloth)...after checking the security of this arrangement by pulling on it, I removed my jeans gently...so far so good...once the mundu was secure on my waist, I then proceeded to wrap the remaining cloth round and round around my body...and finally the the end of the mundu cloth was tied again to the first knot...I WAS READY TO FACE THE LORD...triumphantly I came out of the shop to see my wife and daughter bursting into uncontrollable giggles...But I was walking like a Kerala king going to meet the Lord...when suddenly the same portly gentleman again came running towards me shouting "SHIRT...SHIRT..." . I realized that all other men in the vicinity were shirtless.. And this was expected of me too. Gingerly I removed my shirt too and handed it over to the same shop for which I was given a token coin...the same system which is used in Malls everywhere...
Finally the three of us proceeded to meet the divine Lord himself...a thought struck me that you are going to the Lord 's abode leaving behind all your material belongings ...you go there as a new person...

Once inside, it was a totally different atmosphere due to the unique aartis  in Malayali language accompanied by an assortment of drums and trumpets. As we waited in a line to go into the presence of the Lord, I took a look at the temple architecture which was very beautiful. One thing I noticed, is the extensive use of wood in Kerala temples, which one does not get to see in Maharashtra. Another feature which I noticed, was the wide walking area surrounding the main temple area. I thought it must be for the people to do the Parikrama. I was partly right and partly wrong. But first things first.

To the sound of cymbals and drums, the gate to the Lord’s abode was opened. As the people started going inside to get a darshan of the Lord, the decibel level went up behind us. Once we had taken the darshan, we were ushered out to witness a grand spectacle before us!! On the wide walking path, going around the perimeter of the temple, an elephant,  heavily bedecked with beautiful golden ornaments was walking across, with some pujaris sitting on a howdah, placed on the elephants back with many other people following the elephant, some of them walking briskly and some, almost running. We too joined the crowd for a couple of rounds, thoroughly enjoying ourselves and very happy to be part of this unique experience.

Then we sat inside a cool part of the temple, meditating before the great Lord, thanking him for this opportunity of a lifetime. This was certainly a great day in our lives, that it will always be remembered as a gift from the Almighty.

Yatindra Tawde

It doesn't happen only in India

It keeps happening in India. Whether it is a metro like Mumbai or a small town like any other, the corporators and other functionaries of any municipality or Nagar Palika  are always the blue eyed boys…or girls, born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Come rain or shine, whether the municipal body is cash rich or in financial doldrums, they continue to live life King size. Take the case of a Nagar Palika in a western state of India  which is in the news due to heavy malnutrition and deaths of small children due to hunger. The poor rich men of the Nagar Palika had to make repeated visits to the town to take first hand updates since they were under pressure from the higher ups in government. This involved a lot of traveling on the same pot holed roads, when they were always claiming, there were non. A lot of sweat was also expended, due to which a lot of these rich men lost their weights. But they were so much concerned about losing their excess flab that this resulted in an order for the latest swanky car. And since the common babus cannot travel with their masters, the order for one car got converted into two. Nowadays, if you are in that part of the country, you can see swanky expensive cars making trips to the poorest of hamlets ‘to take stock of the situation’.

But I had always thought that this happens only in India. How wrong was I !! Take the municipal corporation of a city in Australia. The city of Canberra. This city was passing through a grim financial situation what with fast rising prices coupled with large scale unemployment. The government had to announce strict austerity measures and the common man was ready to abide by the same. Then suddenly the bureaucrats thought about learning the best  austerity practices. But due to the high stress factor, they decided to conduct a seminar for all like minded bureaucrats in a place outside their city. And which better place than the city of love, Paris!! So entire circus of bureaucrats was sent on an all expenses paid trip to the opposite part of the world to the most expensive city in the world. And since a day of seminar was expected to raise the stress levels, the best HR in the world decided to throw in fun activities like visit to the Eiffel Tower, the Moulin Rouge, the Louvre, et al. Now this small investment of, visit to the most expensive city, is expected to motivate the bureaucrats to perform their duties and teach best practices of austerity to the denizens of their proud city. So what if the seminar lesson itself caused a big dent in the financial health of the city coffers!!

Yatindra Tawde

The roads in Mumbai

Today's front page news in a Marathi language paper says, “Roads in Mumbai to be smoothened by tomorrow”. I was not expecting this from a respected daily in Marathi language. After all the Marathi dailies are known to print factual news. And then they go and print such fiction. Curbs should be placed on such reporters. Playing with the feelings of citizens? Who, in the right senses can even contemplate such perfidy.

But, if by chance, there is some truth in the above headline?? The cars, motorcycles, buses, autos, scooters, and the common man is now used to cratered roads. The shock absorbers in my car are no longer shocked when they hit a pot hole. The tires have developed extra grips to navigate the pot holes better. Even cars, like The Mercedes, the Audis and the BMW’s have been designed and developed for Indian roads. During the rainy season, entire families of tadpoles, frogs, et al, make their homes in the pot holes. If their homes are levelled, will it not come under the purview of ‘Cruelty to Animals’? A certain lady in Delhi will surely be very angry and will ask for status quo.

Even the bi-pedal animal, like the homo sapient, will also find it rough going if the roads are suddenly made smooth. After all, going by Darwin’s theory, his spinal cord and the various joints in his body have surely evolved over so many years of travelling on pot holed roads, and have grown extra cushioning in various body parts to absorb the jarring roads. If you keep your eyes open, you will certainly spot the extra cushioning in front of the sensitive stomach and on the sides, which are lovingly called ‘love handles’. The back side cushions are especially useful for travelling by autos on pot holed roads.

Most of the the cars are advertised as having a high ground clearance, which is a pre-requisite for driving on the current Mumbai roads. What happens to such cars, if the roads are suddenly smoothened. Will it not mean thousands of dollars down the roadside nullah.

And finally there is the question of heritage. A pot holed road is a heritage site for Mumbai city. The heritage of this great city should be safe guarded from over zealous contractors, who take it upon themselves to gift smooth roads to the citizens thereby destroying heritage built over the centuries.

So come one, come all, to protect the invaluable heritage and protest against the people scheming to provide smooth roads. I am sure that this news is just a flash in the PAN, which repeats itself every year after the monsoons, to finally go down the drain during coming monsoon.

Yatindra Tawde

The Indian Post office

Read today that pulses will be available for sale in the wide network of the post offices across the length and breadth of India and that set me thinking, what next?? I think, just last year,it had been decided by the government that post offices will be used to distribute the holy Gangajal to the masses. I don't think I have to elaborate the importance of Gangajal for the Indian diaspora. After all, when I was a child, I had seen a small kamandalu of Gangajal being given the same importance and being worshipped by my grandmother at her home.

Till the 1990’s and even the early 2000’s, the Indian post office was a thriving institution. Yes, the fast mushrooming courier services were certainly a threat but the Post office had its own Tatkal courier service to compete against them. That time, I was not a direct user of their services but I remember making many visits to the post office, sometimes for buying stamps, the khaki colour letter cards, the blue coloured inland letters, posting of beautiful Diwali greetings, and many such uses, which were then an integral part of an Indian citizen’s life. Another benefit was the postal savings and my father used to deposit in my and my sister’s name, every month. But the advent of mobile phones and PC’s in homes and offices started the downfall of the institution called post office, to a great extent. People started sending sms’s and emails for all things, from official communications to wishing each other during festivals. Even when someone died, people just started sending RIP by sms's. It all became very impersonal. Sending Diwali greetings through beautiful cards was replaced by .gif messages through sms's or mms, which became the norm. This meant lesser and lesser usage of the postal service. Only the people wanting to send money to their loved ones staying in villages through a money order were using postal services. But smartphones, with their different money transfer options, threatened the system of money order. Today the few things which keep the post offices running are the patronage by mainly the working and lower middle class, who still find the different money savings options offered, a good bet, and some loyal customers who still swear by the services offered by the post offices. And the reasonable charges for the Tatkal courier seva, which continues to maintain its clientele.

I am sure, since the network of post offices across the country, are wide and reaching the far interiors, selling pulses through this network, at subsidised rates, is but one option explored by the government to keep the huge postal employee count occupied and also to fully exploit this wide network.

What next? Maybe, the government can use this wide network to reach its various subsidy schemes and yojanas to the diaspora of this great country so that the citizens are well aware of their rights and welfare benefits.

Yatindra Tawde

Why did the chicken cross the street

Many times I am really surprised how the western countries make a big hue and cry over small matters. Recently there was news in the papers about how a chicken in Scotland crossed a street and how the city authorities actually noticed this.
It so happened that a lady driving a car, noticed a chicken scurrying in front of her car. Startled, she applied the brakes instantly. Now, the lady drivers in Scotland are very law abiding citizens, they are either applying nail polish or are playing detective in trying to trace the elusive Pokémon's or they are indulging in that harmless activity called Mobile chatting. But this lady was different. Perhaps she belonged to the bygone generation. She applied the brakes, took her car to the sidelines and dialed the authorities.
If it had been India, perhaps the chicken would either have been crushed under the wheels or would have ended up on some driver’s dining table. And in India, all animals cross the roads, that too when the driver is least expecting it, whether it is a chicken or a stray dog or cattle, on a busy city road or cattle or elephants in the south. In Thane, where I stay, the stray dogs are the kings of the roads, it is their territory, the cars have to either slow down or take a long detour around the dog, so as not to disturb the sleeping beauty. Recently I had been to the city of Udaipur. There the roads belong to the cattle, who occupy the best shaded and airy part of the road, and the cars have to drive around the cattle. That's why our Driver faced great difficulty in finding a shaded parking spot since it was usually occupied by a family of cattle. When we asked  the driver about this, he stated very matter of factly that the cattle occupy the roads to avoid mosquitos in the dark tabelas. On the roads, due to the cars and trucks going by, no mosquitos dare sit on them during their siesta time. That day I came to know that the drivers of Udaipur are so empathetic, they care about the mosquito  bites on the cattle. Perhaps some entrepreneur should come out with a contraption, which sprays the inside of a car with perfume and the outside with a mosquito repellent. Guys, I am just trying to say that animals, whether bi-pedal or quadruped, are common on Indian roads, and what happened in Scotland, can never happen in India.
Anyway, coming back to our story, as soon as the lady in Scotland called the city authorities, a police car in the vicinity was at the spot, in a jiffy. And 4 policemen were immediately down on their haunches to catch the culprit, the modest chicken. The lady was honoured with the ‘STAR of the MAYOR’ for her exemplary kindness towards all living things. But the last I know, 4 policemen together were not able to capture the chicken. Perhaps they were chicken hearted policemen.
Yatindra Tawde

A Life Well Lived

This post is a part of Write over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian bloggers by BlogAdda.

I must say, this must rank as the most difficult prompt given by the BlogAdda team. Frankly, who introspects about one’s life during the course of a lifetime, except at the very end, when you know that the end is near? However, one should always give his best when writing, by a little imagination and more introspection. Just like an actor who gives his best when asked to emote a death scene by his Director, so must a writer, who has been given a prompt. So here goes!

I came into this world, without giving much trouble to my mother (no caesarean) and this trait of mine, of not giving trouble to anyone, has stayed with me throughout my life. Of course, my wife might disagree to this claim of mine. How do I trouble her, you might ask? Well, by being laid back in my attitude, unnecessarily procrastinating on small issues, being unorganised, whether in filing important papers or by leaving my wet towel on the bed after a bath, etc. What can I do if my towel likes to rest on the bed on a lazy Sunday morning?

The early years, till I was in school were the best, with school days and exams, well interspersed with weekend visits to the many relatives, both, on my mother’s and my father’s side. These visits were the best, since my relatives lived in different parts of Mumbai, thus I was also able to observe the lifestyle of those living in South Mumbai to those living in the suburbs. Visits out of Mumbai were mostly limited to visiting my Mama(Mother’s brother) in Ahmedabad or my Atya(father’s sister) in Indore. Just writing about it makes the beautiful images flash before my mind’s eye.

Every evening during school days, was spent in playing assorted games like cricket, football or even almost extinct games like playing with marbles, wooden tops in  beautiful colours, viti-dandu, or a game called Lagori, which consisted of breaking a pile of flat stones by throwing  a ball at it and the opposing team trying to pile it up again without getting caught. Even the game of cricket was of many types, ranging from over-arm and under-arm bowling to playing on the roads and then going out to play it inside the house, to the consternation of grownups.

Start of a school year was always looked forward to, in spite of all the enjoyment during the summer holidays, as it meant new books, new notebooks, pencils, pens, new uniforms, etc. I particularly remember the smell of a newly opened notebook, umm…and the games played during the recesses, again a form of cricket with a paper ball and notebook acting as a bat, catch me if you can, and many others.

Those were the days which were not touched with consumerism like today and events like school opening and Diwali, were awaited with enthusiasm since they meant new clothes, new shoes. Festivals like Diwali, Ganesh Chaturthi and Holi were celebrated boisterously with lots of fireworks noise and late nights. The cultural programs during the Ganpati festival was unique since they meant daily dose of dramas, orchestras, fancy dress, etc., which were literally, adventures for us.

College days, especially Engineering college days were most memorable since they were spent living in another city with a bunch of great guys who today are the best of my friends.

For me cricket was and is, the greatest game and I was lucky to see such gems as Sunil Gavaskar, Kapil Dev, Vengsarkar, Sachin Tendulkar, Rahul Dravid, Virender Sehwag, Laxman, Saurav, to King Kohli and Dhoni and Yuvraj. And who can forget, the Engineer, Kumble. Almost 6 generations of talented, cricket world capturing cricketers.

I got married to a great lady and we brought up the greatest daughter. The days spent with them during the daily grind, were always looked forward to, after a hard day's work. And the yearly trips to different places during the holidays were unforgettable.

2010 was the year when I suddenly discovered my passion for writing. Mind you, I was not very prolific then, but I had made the discovery. I became a prolific writer, 2014 onwards, and concentrated on writing my blog posts, and bored my near and dear ones, by sharing with them. This was one enterprise, which gave me immense pleasure and continues to do so. I feel, this is my true calling. Only regret is that this has come quite late in life, after crossing my 40’s. But its always better to find your true calling, rather than not discovering it at all.

Finally, I am happy that I was always there for few of my relatives, when they felt the need to just talk to me and meet me, if not for anything else. And the same goes for me, that I was lucky enough to meet them, whenever I felt a vacuum in my life. I, especially feel happy, that I was near my grandmother, in her very old age and she found great happiness in interacting with my daughter, who enthusiastically loved her back. It was the greatest of bonds, between the oldest and youngest members of our family. I am happy that my parents can stay with me whenever they feel like and be a calming influence on my daughter. I am happy about the great relationship I enjoy with my cousins, and we continue to maintain and strengthen our bonhomie, which was an integral part of our family fabric during the previous generation, too.

Yatin Tawde

My contribution to Ig Nobel prize

As you all must be knowing, in agricultural fields across India, cattle manure is used as a fertiliser. Till recently, the cost of one truck manure was about Rs. 1500/-, which today costs about Rs. 7000/-.  Why did this happen? What caused this steep increase? Is the cattle population going down? Or the reason is something else?

The Chief Minister of one state of India has decided to get to the root of the problem. He has instructed all his babus in his state to feed him data. And what is the data? Conduct census of all the cattle population in the state. Though a difficult task, the babus got down to business. They made all the plans to visit each village household, each Tabela, et al to get the number of cattle and update their boss. But the next instruction of their boss, made them sweat. And smell!! Why? They were expected to not only count the cattle but also to measure their valued dung, discharged by the Cattle! The reason, allegedly, was that the boss, wanted to know whether the supply has gone dry or whether the middle men were hoarding the dung. Though I fail to understand, in which smelly room, was the dung being hoarded. The babus were really stumped with this quixotic requirement.

Let me try to help the babus in achieving their aim, which is to measure the valuable discharge. Here goes…

1) Give data sheets to owners of cattle to do the dirty measurement, which should be submitted in government offices, every week. And as a motivation to the owners, dole out free gloves and weighing scales…
2) Entrepreneurs to manufacture intelligently designed diapers for the cattle. The diapers to be very spacious to hold the valuable contents, which can then be weighed easily. Won't be surprised if the entrepreneurs turn out to be part of the family of the babus.
3) But if no one doesn't want to touch the discharge, here's another solution- weigh the cattle before and after their discharge. The difference in weight, is the weight of the discharge.

So there, I have finished with my contribution to a noble cause. I am sure, the Indian agriculturist will be greatly benefited by my contribution and I am nominated for the next Ig Nobel prize.

With tongue firmly in cheek.

Yatindra Tawde