Soliloques of a poor man - 2

When will I become a Vice President? No hope in the vicinity, if the things are set to progress this way. Forget about a VP, even to bacome a manager looks to be a tough nut to crack. How thrilling it is to go around the work place, shout at everyone I come across, make draconian rules that affect the workers and staff, cut or reduce various allowances of the work force...all is possible only if I am a boss!

I am afraid, I must invoke the famous adage to achieve my goal- behind every success there are crimes. I must push down many a competitor and pull some others' legs to come up the ladder. How many more times I must pretend in front of the boss that I am more sincere than others in the set up? How many more strings I may have to pull? It is a tight rope walk, but I am a past master in this trade. Sometimes it is just  not enough to do hard work to conquer heights. Fingers crossed, I am hatching some plots to coronate myself at the helm.

Meanwhile one more feather is added to my already crowded hat. The sprawling villa in the suburb now has a swimming pool. What more I should add? A helipad on the roof top? That is asking for more. That is not justified.  Just a few kilometers away there is a big airport. That will serve my travel needs.Man must identify his needs and seek for it. I shall settle with the nearby international airport for the time being

On one of the sun shades of my villa, a dove family lives. I am an ardent observer of this family. The mother dove before laying the eggs collected a number of twigs from all over the vicinity. For her, building a house was a necessity not simply a status statement or a fancy. It is a part of fulfilling a biological process. She does not need a civil enigneer or the town's best architect to design her house. With that humble beak she made a beautiful home. It is just not a beautiful abode but a perfet one too. It is God's own creation, in tune with His will. He directly oversaw this perfect 'villa'. Still, I am not ready to admit that this is in anyway stands equal to my multi million livng place. Human beings have their own way. We no longer leave everything to the Almighty.

The dove laid her eggs in the nest. Another perfect product right from the heaven. A few flawless white oval shapped little things. The prospective mother stood guard to those eggs and finally found them come to life. She happily reared her children with all motherly duties warranted in this process.

Many big trees around my simple run down village home were home to a number of sparrows. Their nests were amazing peices of artwork. These nests are made to hang from the branches of the trees. We in our childhood days used to wonder how a tiny bird like a sparrow could weave a nest with such simple materials like strands and leaves of trees. These marvellous pieces of nature's work always stood as a mystery in our minds. Styling the hair like "Kuruvikkoodu", many men made their fashion statements. Eeven the handsome film stars sported one of its kind those days.

"Kuruvikkoodu" ( the sparrow nest) may still be hanging from the branches of trees, but our children do not have time to look at them. I do not want my kid waste his time going after such silly things. Children have much more serious things to do. Science, Maths and Social Studies. They have to gobble up the essence of all these modern day job-fetching tablets. This is the only way to know 'Gandhi' so closely.

 We did steal a few of such nests once in a while to have a close look at them. Many times, guys climbed headless cocunut trees to pick nestlings from the mynah's abode. Woodpecker makes holes in the dead trunks of the coconut trees that turn into homes for mynahs. We called them "madatha". Madathas were tiny cure birds that always made the childhood so pleasant. They lay eggs in these holes and the little ones live there. We pick them from the holes and keep in small cages. We feed them with grasshoppers and grains. Many times, these little birds could not survive our hospitality. They died young. Still, some of them survived. These mynahs entertained us, spoke a few words and it remained with us for long till a dog or a cat finished their story. That is an old story. Not worth remembering now. Being a prisoner of the past will no way fetch any economic benefits.

 

 The dove family lived there very happily. The mother flew out and in several times in a day. She took care of the little birds with all motherly duties. Remember, she had never kept a big saving for her post 'delivery' treatment. She never had a huge bank balance to bring up her children. I look at the nest with envy. She turned an insignificant part of my home a heaven. My airconditioned rooms and the luxurious interiors looked so silly for a monent, did I feel so? She looked to have a relaxed approach to life. I often felt her telling me that being happy with whatever you have is more important than nurturing a craving for more and more. There is no meaning in conquering all that you wish. But I won't heed her advices. What does she know about life? I have to maintain a huge bank balance. A medical seat costs upto one crore now. What will be the cost when my kid is at it? Its a thing over which I must be losing my sleep. He can't sing cinema songs. He can't play cricket.

People say a lot about inflation, consumer price index and gross domestic prodcut. What difference it makes to me? I don't even read a news article on any of these subjects. But of course, I mind RBI's reverse repo rate. It affects my loan amount, term deposits' interest rates and a lot of stakes at the stock markets. My heart beats only in tune with the stock market index.

Recently on one of my international fligts I happen to see an article on Banglaideshi weavers. The story about hardships the helpless wokers of the cloth factories in that country suffer, was a heart ache to read. Many of the men and women workers in the cloth factories get hardly 50USD per month as wage. This is not even as much as the price of a tee-shirt or a trouser they make. Such people are also living in this world, sweating it out right in the middle of a race for survival. I only hope they don't aspire to become VPs. Look, I don't like competition

There are a number of catchy advertisements in the Khaleej Times newspaper. The Dubai based daily weighs one kilogram many days. It has two full pages for news from India. The other day the daily had dedicated one full page to Kejriwal. The advertisement columns have plenty of advertisements about residential villas and plots on sale in Dubai. In the Palm Jumairah, one square foot of the plot costs between AED 650 and 1500 (hidden cost extra). This is equvalent to Indian Rupees 9600 to 22000. A 1000 sqft plot may cost me something between 96,00,000 and 2,20,00,000 Rupees. I am a poor man. Can't afford to own even a 1000 square feet of this vast earth!




 

 

 

Appooppanthaadi -57

Each time when I come out of the office, I pass my fingers through the tulsi plants outside. After that I smell my fingers. How pleasant it is! Tulsi is a wonderful plant indeed. In Das Island's residential and office area, we can come across Tulsi everywhere. The very smell of it leaves makes my mind so relaxed. Anyway, I hope some tensed minds does this exercise everyday. This will help reduce the burden of the mind considerably.

I cannot ask for more. The climate even in the noon is very pleasant at the moment. Standing in the sun for an hour does not cause sweating. This is the best climate one can enjoy in a desert. Come winter, the entire Gulf region becomes the best place to be in. There will not be extreme cold condition here like we experience in Europe or China. The sunlight becomes so soft on the earth. In places like Syria, we may have to wear a jacket to survive the cold. Still I was wondering why even on 25th December, there was no snowfall in Syria. This place is very close to Jerusalem where it is believed to have heavy snow fall when Jesus was born.  

The other day I woke up to a big rain. The rain water is yet to disappear from many spots. Water in the desert does not percolate into the earth so easily. Most probably, it evaporates and this process takes several days altogether. Perhaps, deserts have their own way of protesting against the indifference shown by Mother Nature!
 

Come summer. The turn around will be horrible. The situation will be far from this rosy picture. The weather in Das Island is articulated like this :Minimum average temperature 9 degree Celsius, Maximum 43 degree C. The relative humidity is high through out the year averaging 70% and reaching 95% in the morning hours. Altitude - Sea level. Atmosphere - Saliferous and corrosive, often containing fine dust and pollutants, especially carbon dioxide and hydrogen sulphide.  Rainfall is scarce. Measureable rain occurs for ten days in a year on an average. Still there are people who work here for the past thirty or more years. It is possible. Money can make it possible. Thirty years of paid incarceration...not bad as long as the purse becomes fatter by the month. That too, with living expense just limited to internet and telephone charges (even the underclothing are washed by someone else free of cost)

Hydrogen Sulphide is the sworn enemy of this island. In an industry involving crude oil and natural gas, hydrogen sulphide is an indispensable companion. This gas can kill people. Everyone at work in Das Island has to always keep a breathing apparatus with him. This is a simple apparatus that allows a person to breath pure air for five minutes if he is trapped in a Hydrogen Sulphide leak. Besides the breathing apparatus, we keep a Hydrogen Sulphide gas detector always in our possession. These safety measures are mandatory whenever we are at work. I wonder, should a man who comes from Chennai need to really keep such an apparatus? The quantity of dust, carbon monoxide and sulphur kicked up in our big and small cities is much higher than what I come across in this island. The pollution in our country can never be matched with any place in the world.
 

Today, in the evening, on my way to the mess for dinner, a nice breeze from the sea has been accompanying me. It is a full moon night. The magnificent appearance of the moon over the sea,  far off the horizon needs a special mention. How beautiful it was! Just a few metres walk to any direction takes us to the sea shore. The breeze is a little cold at present. It gives a pleasant feeling in being here. In the evening, the air strip is open to the public for walking. The worries of big tummies, sugar and high pressure troubles in the blood are all walking and running around the air strip with sweat pouring from every pore. May the desperate efforts on the tarmac yield results as soon as possible. I am adamant, I mean business. I shall never do anything that may adversely affect my tummy.

Sowmya, a young girl has done it. She climbed a hill using the rope tied at the top of the hill. It was so easy for her. She has been competing with a handful of boys in a reality show named Action Killadi on Kairali TV. Look, on one side we listen with utter shock about father raping daughter and on the other we see some encouraging scenes like this. All is in the attitude. Women have two choices. Stand up and get the kick on the face or lie down and get trampled upon. Destruction will be complete then. I am sure, they much choose the former.


Sunitha Williams, a woman has returned from space. He was the leader of the team that spent  several days in space. She holds the record of number of space walks by a woman. This was the fourth time she visited there. Meanwhile, in Saudi Arabia, if a woman wants to visit a foreign country, she has to get written permission from husband. Once she leaves the border of the country, an SMS comes to the husband's mobile phone.  http://www.saudigazette.com.sa/index.cfm?method=home.regcon&contentid=20121129144380.
Well, that was a distraction from the main subject, a welcome distraction anyway. At least I could shed some light to  some of the happenings around the world.

Twice in a week I cross the air strip. Barbeque is arranged in the open restaurant on the other side of our residence. We have to walk a little far to reach here after crossing the run way. Barbeque is a rich combination of a number of meat and fish based food items. It does not make any difference to me as I settle down with usual vegetables. The only additional thing I find there is the daal vadas. To get a few pieces of them, we have to stand in queue there. Still, it is worth the while. It is like connecting a missing link to the home sickened thoughts of good old days of parippuvada and kattan chaya ( daal vada and black tea).

 

Andaman Islands -5

At the end of Jarawa territory, there comes the first ferry. The ferry has two barges that carry all types of vehicles. Our bus too crossed the creek on one of the barges. The wait for the barge to reach the jettey was one of the best moments we had had in Andamans. The magnificient scenes of the natural beauty was in full diaplay on both banks of the creek. Those thick mangroves on the banks will simply blow over the onlooks. Cameras digital canvas is not enough to copy such images. Treat your eyes by being right over there.

 

The ferry was of around 10 minutes long. Then the bus ran along a place that resembled the northern Keralam. Those bettle nut trees were all like a relic from the God's own Country. The road is called a High Way, but it looked like a village road. After an hour's run we reached the second ferry. Another 10 monitues there.


The mangrooves were there too to greet us. Looking at these nature's gift to this planet, I had a bad thought crept into my mind. For how many more years these mangrooves are going to survive? There is an increasing trend among the 'development' oriented species of universe to distroy everything that is made for helping them. If destroying the mangrooves fethches some money, there are people to do this too. This is happening in different parts of the world right now.
 

Ratish Bhai and family were waiting at Baratang to receive us. By the time we reached there, it was almost 7 in the evening. He drove us to his home. The car moved to Billi ground where the bus also goes. Now we got closer to the sea. This was the sea that showed its ugly face a few years back in the form of a tsunami.  The killer waves that day took away a lot of lives and battered Andamans to a bad shape. It was pitch dark and we could only hear the roaring sound of the waves at that time. Bhai's car's headlights were showing us the way forward. Ocassionally a vehicle crossed us on the opposite side. Sitting in the front seat with my friend, the scene unveiled on the road was so saddening.

There were a number of reptiles and frogs lying dead on the road. A lot of snakes and frogs were seen still moving towards the road only to be crushed by the vehicles. It was so saddening to look at these creatures meeting such a gory death. I am sure, Bhai's car would have crushed an uncountable number of frogs and snakes on our way to his house. This justifies the ban on night trafic in certain places to protect wild life. Here too, I wish, vehicles were prohibited to run in the night unless it is extremely necessary.

When we reached Bhai's house it was eight in the night. There was a sumptious dinner waiting for us. The house was a single storied wooden structure. Simple but elegant. A sarkari babu's dwelling place cannot be otherwise anyway.  Most of the buildings in Andamans in rural areas are built with wood. Those who are built with cement and bricks have a maximum of 3 storeys. The precaution is to survive earthquakes. Andaman experiences frequent earthquakes and hence light structures are a must to absorb such distructive tremors.

After enjoying the warmth of a freind's hospitality for two days, we started back to Port Blair by the same bus. The important thing I observed while I was with Rathish was that, not only the matching of minds matters in a married life, the  dress that is worn too. Later on I found out through many photos of theirs, that the good husband and wife wear dresses with a nice colour combination. It took a visit to Andamans to discover such a phenominon!

 The last item in our itenerary was a visit to Red Skin Island.  The morning was greeted with intermitent showers. The sky was overcast since morning. We travelled upto the Wandoor village from Port Blair by the car arranged by the tour operator to catch the boat to Red Skin Island. The boat cruised along the back waters against the back drop of beautiful sceneries. There were so many islands along the route. All islands have thick greenry and the shores are rich layer of mangrooves. The beauty is to behold, come and enjoy. It is a recommendation to one and all to take some time off the busy work schedules and witness the nature's unadulterated manifestations.

After an hour's journey the boat reached the Red Skin Island. The boat was stopped a few meters away from the shore. There was no boat jettey to bring the boat close to the land. From the boat, we were transferred to a small motorised boat with transparent bottom. The bottom part of the boat had magnifying glasses. As the boat slowly started moving, we all looked down through the glass with dropped jaws. The awe struck tourists were easily blown over. Such was the beauty of the corals. It was far more marvelous than what we saw at North Bay Island.

When we reached the shores, we all changed our dresses to have some fun in the water. My boy enjoyed the most. Perhaps, for him this was the best time he spent in the Andamans. We swam, well, we pretended to have done so, splattered water on each other, walked in water...the revelry was the best part of the Andaman Tour. By noon we returned from Red Skin Island.





My kid meanwhile went for a guided snorkeling. The guide took him a little far away from us to show him the corals very close. When he retured, I asked him how was the experience. The fish were so beautiful to watch, he replied!







On the way from Wandoor to Portbialr, we could see vast area of marshy land with a number of headless coconut trees standing all over in it. The driver told us that these were the land that was devastated by the Tsunami. They stand there as a symbol of nature's fury to which the mankind has no resistance to offer.


See a few more photos here :
https://picasaweb.google.com/ppnatesan/Andaman?authkey=Gv1sRgCOW6w8Kx4o6m2QE&feat=email#


As we packed up our baggage and checked out of the guest house, we were a happy lot. Life's one ambition had been fulfilled. But before checking out, how many more ambitions we did not churn out in our minds! Andaman will remain like a soothing dream in our minds. Perhaps, the missed Havelock trip may even make us think of a second visit to Andamans. While landing at Chennai airport, we had one ton of luggage with us. All those were of the charming memeories of  a trip to a bunch of fascinating islands...

Appooppanthaadi -56

I could not stop marvelling at myself! Where have I reached? In the same posture, exactly 3 years back I was typing one of the many Desert Living stories on my laptop that I have been propagating all these days. It is the same box type accommodation for me here too -it can be something like 15 feet length and 10 feet width with a cushioned bed of 3 feet width. Leaning against the pillows and the personal computer on my lap, I am watching the television  while making the stories, exactly how I did 3 years back. The only difference is that there in Syria, I was forced to watch only "Rakhi ka Swayamvar" everyday but here there are a good package of Malayalam, Tamil and Telgu channels to enjoy

Much more water flew in Periyar river since then. I traveled just like an 'appooppanthaadi' later on. It went to Europe, twice to China and then over to a totally unexpected place. Is it where a free flying object supposed to get holed up? It could be like one of many paradoxes in life. Unavoidable sometimes.

 

Finally I reached the Island. The Das Island. It is located around 150 kilometers off the main land UAE. The length and breadth of this piece of land, situated somewhere in the Persian Gulf are just 2.4 and 1.5 kilometers respectively. This island is much closer to Qatar and Iran

 People in this part of the world lately have developed a penchent for creating land in the sea. There are a number of such islands in the Emirate of Dubai. The Palm Jumeira is one of the finest examples of such unconvenstional ways of thinking and executing things in the world by the oil rich rulers. Land has been created in sea in the shape of a palm tree - not one but three - using dredging. It was not the compulsion of space crunch but in all probability it was just the fancy for doing something out of the box. Anyway, as the adage goes, if there is hair, we can style it as we please. Here, hair is replaced by money - and money makes all the difference.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palm_Jumeirah

Das Island is however not an artificial one anyway. It had even a hill once upon a time. Like in any place in the Persian Gulf, here too the terrain is sandy and rocky. This small strip of land was once used by turtels and some migratory birds to nestle and rear their off-springs. Unfortunately for them, human beings have reached here too. As is expected, the human beings never care for others. That has happened exactly this way here too. They razed the hill. They dropped big boulders and concrete blocks all around the land to prevent sea erosion. They distroyed whatever the other creatures used for their existance. Let others go to dogs. Let the God, on whom every human being vouches for, take care of these living things. If God is so worried, let Him make new abodes for them. We have no time, we have to make development for a brighter future of the mankind!

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Das_Island

Das Island houses a crude oil and  natural gas processing plant and loading facilities. Abu Dhabi's oil and gas resources are tapped from their large wells named Um Al Shaif and Zakum. The high pressure crude oil and gas reach from these off-shore rigs through sub-sea pipeleines. This raw oil and gas is processed in Das Island facility. The major process is the removal of water from the oil and gas. The treated oil and gas are seperated from each other and then loaded on to the big vessels waiting in the sea. So, this Island may be called the power house of Abu Dhabi's economy. The major income for the Emirate is derived from the oil and natural gas exported from here. The other 6 Emirates are not blessed with such a huge quantum of natural resourses.

 

I took a plane to reach here from Abu Dhabi. It was a 40 seater turbo propelled air craft that took hardly 30 minutes to reach the Island. Das Island has an air strip also. There are 4 to 5 trips per day to and from Abu Dhabi Aviation Airport operated by the aviation department of Abu Dhabi. The travel to this island is free of cost  but one has to go thorogh a lot of government and military security formalities to get the travel documents cleared. Once cleared, we get an identity card, using whick, we can travel up and down as we need depending on the availabilty of seats on the plane

 

 

The plane shook violantly upon landing. While standing on line at the Abu Dhabi airport, all the passengers were seen picking ear plugs from the . I too picked a pair. I guessed, this might be needed on board the aircraft. I was expecting big noise inside while taking off and during the flight. Luckily, it was just like any other flight. 

There are around 6000 people - all men- living here. All are accommodated in the island.  Argueably this tiny piece of land is a place where people from all around the world can be spotted. Perhaps, it may not be difficult to find at least one person each from the 206 countries. 

The all familiar porta cabins are lines up on either side of the air-strip. So many, even one upon the other. I saw them in Qatar and then in Syria . These tiny boxes have everything inside that include a refrigerator, an air conditioner, kettle, tea bags, a bath room, a toilet, a water heater, a television besides bed, chairs and table.  What else we need to have a laid back life? But don't be misled. These facilities are extended only to the creamy layer of the work force. The hard working group, as usual gets a raw deal. They get air-conditioned, shared accommodation with minimal facilites.  

 

These birds are seen hovering around in less numbers

There is a big mess that serves a wide variety of food - all for free. One can eat as much as he wants. Dosa, Sambar, 'pulissery', 'avial', daal, rasam, aaloo gobi, roti, rice, many types of meat based dishes, vegetables, fruits, and sweets  are served  everyday. There are a number of shops that sell everything - from water bottles to Laptops to LCD TVs. There are two big mosques, two cinema theatres, play grounds, a bank, hair cutting saloons, Post office and mobile phone service provider's office.

The only thing that may be hard to find here is time. People come here, or rather are lured by the colour of dollars, only to work. Work for half of the day. The rest 12 hours for a little leisure, food and then sleep. The routine is non stop - there is no break on weekends. That is how the life in this island goes on

Photography is strictly prohibited. We are not allowed to bring cameras, mobile phones that have cameras or Laptops that have webcams. Security related restrictions are lot but in the internet, all information are available including a number of photographs. All the photos above are copied from the internet

 

Appooppanthaadi -55

I got a pleasant surprise today. I came to learn only today that till the recent past, the currency the people of Persian Gulf that included the present day UAE used was printed in India. The name of the currency was Gulf Rupee. The Gulf Rupee was printed by Reserve Bank of India for circulation in some Arab countries. The value of the money was eaquivalent to the Indian Rupee. However, the colur of the notes were different from the Indian Rupee notes. I only hope my stamp hunter fried Vincent is aware of this and he has a good collection of such notes.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gulf_rupee

During the early to mid-20th century, the Indian rupee was extensively used as currency in countries around the Persian Gulf and Arabian Peninsula. In order to reduce the strain put on India's foreign reserves by gold smuggling caused by external use of the Indian rupee, a separate currency was created. The Government of India introduced the Gulf rupee in 1959 as a replacement for the rupee, for circulation exclusively outside the country. At the time, the Indian rupee was pegged to the pound sterling at a rate of 13⅓ rupees = 1 pound.

I heard that the people of old genereation still call their money rupee. Probably they are still living in the past. Before the gas was struck, people in this region were living like ordinary people of a poor country. The major income of the people here was from fishing and trading pearls. The life saw a sea change within a span of 50 years and now UAE is one of the richest countries in the world. Still one fact must make us really wondering. The Britishers who found oil in this region, established infrastructure to process and export this black gold had never tried to make the Persian Gulf their colony. Despite very sincere requests by the rulers of this region, the Britishers exited from the Gulf. In a way, the UAE was formed only because the Britishers refused to protect the emirates militarily.  It was a great loss to the locals here, because they lost a golden opportunity to learn "excuse me" and "sorry".

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Finally I got my UAE Identity card. I do not have a voter id or I have no idea how to go about getting the much hyped Adhar Card in my country. Thinking about those dingy 'sarkari' offices that issue these cards make me feel like vomiting. I only wish I will never have to visit a government office there. On the first day of my arrival here, I went to a government office. Here too, I could see crowd, milling crowd indeed. People of every nationalities were seen there. Despite all the big congragation, everything had a method. The first thing a visitor has to do is to take the token number and then relax in the chairs provided. Number is called and the visitor can approach the respective counter.

The first day itself, they took my blood samples, took X ray of my chest and then the thumb impression. It was not just thumb impression, they took impression of entire palms. Then a photograph too. Everything was over in a few hours and I was out of it without even having any conversations with any one in that government office. Nearly after fifteen days, the identity card has come to the nearby post office from where I collected it.

So much of tracking of the people in this country. The identy card contains every information pertianing to a person. Still, if the government could check the crime rate is to be debated. Just two days back, a Pakistani national went into a hospital owned by a Malayalee, caught hold of a Malayalee doctor and simply slit his throat, just like killing a lamb. He died on the spot. The killer has been a patient of this Eurologist for the past three months, but the motive behind this crime is not yet known. Crime happens despite all such high tech tracking systems.

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Eevery restaurant in this locality offers drinking water when the guests are in seat. These are Indian restaurants. Still there are one or two exemptions to this. The other day, I went to one such eatery. I ordered a sounth indian thali. It had very limited dishes and the taste of them had nothing to do with South India. Still the bill was for 19 dirhams, something like 6 to 7 dirhams more than the other restaurants are charging. Here, they do not offer water too. If we have to drink water, we have to order it, and a half litter per bottle costs 1.5 dirham. Strange. People find different ways to make money. One is this.


El Dorado Cinema is just opposite my hotel. I had nothing to do on Saturday. How many hours I can remain bed ridden in the room? I decided to cross the road and watch the Mohanlal movie Run Baby Run. For the evening show on a holiday, there were not even 50 people to watch the movie. The ticket cost was 30 dirhams, that is roughly 450 rupees, which looks to be high. The lower class costs 25 Dhs. The movie is based on the ethical as well as unethical media exclusives after which the present day electronic media is running to get maximum viewership. The charecters in the movie uses the modern electronic gadgets to do sting operations and exclusive stories  for their TV channels. Last time, when I went to watch Husbands In Goa on Friday noon, the audiance was numbering just around 25 people. I wonder, how the theatre is moving on with such poor patronage by the Malayali community here.


Patronage may be poor at the Cinema Hall but the nearby Spinney's liquor shop was full of 'patrons'. So many people on the Weekend eve were seen picking up different kinds of bottles from the shelves. One Malayalee lady was heard asking the shop attendant if Gin was available only to to be informed that Indian items were not sold in the shop. Look, Malayalees are sincerely patronising the humble beverages in a world where strict anti liquor policies are exisitng.



 

 

 

 

 

 

Some News...Some Views - 17

I sat frozen. The images of the killer of the nine months old girl in US made me numb. I felt once again ashamed of being a himan being. My fellow human being killed the 60 years old grandmother of the kid before kidnapping the child. He then killed the child too after he failed to extract the ransom money.
 

http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-504083_162-57538369-504083/pa-grandmother-found-slain-10-month-old-baby-missing-police-say/
 

How cruel a man can be? This is a cold blooded murder committed with a view to earn some money. For him money was above the lives of two people. It is really shocking to see a child being killed like this. We can only hope the US Government takes appropriate action to see him punished expemplarily. He should live in the civilised society as a symbol of evil. Looking at him, the prospective criminals should think twice before setting out for perpetrating violance on innocent people.

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The killer of Norway too got his punishment. Remember the massacre in Norway an year back? A mentally "sane" young man influenced by some extremeist ideologies attached people on the street. He even attacked young studenst who were attending a seminar. The total death was nearly 100 and many many others were injured. The injured may be living a traumatic life for the rest of their life. Still, he got just 21 years imprisonment. The Norwegian law permits the maximum punishment of only 21 years. The interesting thing about the judgement is that, the court has ruled him sane. The prosecution argued for declaring him insane and send him to mental asylum whereas the defence argued that he is sane. The court accepted the defence's contention.

Read more about the this here : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anders_Behring_Breivik

May the heartless killer remain incarcerated for the rest of his life. At the same time, a few of the hard core criminals and mass murderes are enjoying in our jails. They represent a small group of caste, religious or political entities. These tiny groups are able to twist the arms of the government and deny the execution of punishments to these mindless killers.

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Jayapraksh got a new job. Nothing so great in it prima facie. But I am elated. I met him way back in 1997 in Chennai. Since then we have very warm relation. After a few years of working together, we went in different directions in our career. He later joined a construction company in Chennai as a materials manager. Recently, a brainwave occured inside his little big head and the result of it was a change of job. He resisted all offers by his employer to retain him in their fold. He joined a new set up in Chennai. Unfortunately, it was a bad step he put forth. He found himself out of the new employment within a month of his joining there.

I felt sad about it. I criticised him about the wrong step he took in quitting the comfortable job with the previous employer. He left for his home in Keralam with a heavy heart. Like him, I too was very anxious to see him earned an employment at the earliest.

Barely after three weeks of reaching home, he called me. An exulted Jayaprakash played a music to my ears. He got a job near his home. He got a job in Keralam!

I envy him now. That is a dream I too papmer in a corner of my heart for long. I have not stayed at my home village for more than a month after I passed out of my college. How beautiful it could be if I am able to walk from my home to my work place in Olavaipe! I always dream of a walk along the partitions between the paddy fields that wears a green canopy of richness. The white cranes dot the greenery to enhance the beauty. This will not remain a dream for ever. I will follow my friend Jayaprakash's foot steps sooner or sooner. Even if it is impossible to find a job in my village, I shall find a job somewhere in Keralam and happily settle down there with whatever remunaration I get. Otherwise, why can't I follow the people who are featured in the "krishideepam" episodes in Asianet Television? Iwonder tomyself, why such thoughts never kreep into my mind so often!

Here, In the case of Jayaprakash:
Whatever happened, happened for good.
Whatever is happening, is happening for good.
Whatever will happen, that will be for good as well.

I wish him good luck.

 

*                            *                                  *                                    *                                 *

Rajath Gupta will go to jail. From the board room to jail room is a pathetic journey by a talented personality in the business field. He was orphaned in his teens. Still he came up with his own talent and hard work and reached the top of everything that is conneccted with business. Still, something terribly went wrong for him. Though I felt sad about his present day situation, a crime is a crime and knowingly or unknowingly he committed one. Law took its course. Let the boss serve his punsihment and come out as a reformed person. I hope he will contribute to the world in a better way after he come out of the jail. May the society pardon hi for his mistakes once he returns fro the prison

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rajat_Gupta

*                              *                                   *                           *                              *

There was a turbulance in Pakistan recently. Nothing unusual in Pakistan however. This time it was in connection with the attack on a 14 year old girl in the Swath area of Pakistan. Swath is a very beautiful hilly area bordering Afghanistan. This is a stronghold of Taliban. Taliban is  denying education to the girls in this area. Girls were not allowed to go to school. Girls schoo;s are either closed or distroyed by the extremists there.  The girl, Malala opposed and she strongly campaigned against this injustice . The angry Taliban shot her but she survived the attack.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/oct/15/pakistani-schoolgirl-taliban-uk-treatment

One heartening thing in this unfortunate incident is that the civilised society in Pakistan stood up and condemned this cowardly act by a handful of mentally disturbed men. This is an opportunity the civil society in that country to cease of and try to bring peace and harmony in Pakistan. Let there be a concerted attempt by all peace loving people in Pakistan to denounce Taliban and other extremist ideologies.

Surprisingly, the intelluctual class, some politicians who have opinion about anything under the sun and the Human Rights groups were deafenigly silent in India over this issue. What could be the reason?

*                      *                        *                            *                          *                         *

This is funny. Watch the video : http://newsfeed.time.com/2012/11/02/npr-apologizes-to-4-year-old-tired-of-bronco-bama/?iid=nf-main-trend-now

The girl got an apology from the National Public Radio (NPR) for the inconvenice. I only wonder if the little girl is so tired of two politicians in a big country like US, what would the kids of our country feel about the situation here? They are being driven mad everyday. Be it a religious festival, a rally by various organizations or a procession by various religious or political groups, it is miserable state of affairs even for the elders here every day.

 

All India Radio -2

When Keralam won the Santhosh trophy for the first time, the entire state burst into celebrations. The government declared holiday to all the educational institutions on the following day. That was a huge achievement for the people of a state. Trivial while comparing with the international happenings, but in our humble lettile circle of football, that was a great feat. It was in 1973. The captain of the team was TKS Mani and he scored a hat trick in the final. Anyway, I was too young to remember all those sequences

The excitation and the nerve wracking tensions all through the final match was never brought to us by the televison channels. Where were all these televison channels? We missed the ultimate pleasure of watching a final that would have been compared to a World cup encounter. But still, the commentator of the All India Radio did no less than an excellant job. His discriptions of the game always gave us a feeling that we were watching the match right over there at the stadium. The beautiful language he used in simple terms was always made the running commentary so enjoyable. Running commentaries were however available only for the semi finals and final matches.

We only heard the world cup 1986. The magic of the God of Football was still elusive to our eyes. The televions sets were yet to make its appearance in our desolate village. That was, in a way helped us a lot. We the children had a lot of time to spend together. No one were worried about missing a Tom&Jerry episode or the live telecast of an India Pakistan test cricket match. Nobody took excuse in such television events to avoid playing in the open grounds. We had a lot of time and a lot of space to play

Radio gave us enough stuff to enjoy. Though the high voltage running commenteries were very rare, the "Katha Prasangams" were abundantly available on air and were equally entertaining as a football match. The story teller accompanied by simple musical instruments was a treat to our ears. Remember those clarinets and harmoniums? The simple tunes emenated from these instruments always soohted the souls of a community called Malayalees once upon a time. All India Radio regularly beamed "katha prasangams" on prime time slots. Prominent stories that always caught listeners interest were Aayisha, Shakespear Novels and many stories adopted from Ramayanam and Maha Bharatham.  V Sambasivan was one of the greatest "Kathikans" of those days. His mesmerising way of story telling had no parallels. The Akasavani always banked on his talent to entertain its listeners. 

 

Kathaprasangam was mainly a Temple dependent art form. Its survival mostly hinged on temple festivals. Not even a temple festival was complete without a Kathaprasangam. Kathikans always got a stage to presnet his story in its enchanting beauty the during a temple festivals. The combination of Clarinet, harmonium and Tabala had the capacity to set the stage on fire hands down. An artist with the gift of the gab could easily take his audiance to a fantastic world escorted by sweet music. That was the beauty of Kathaprasangam. People were willing to walk kilometers together to reach temples to have a few hours of blissful, soul soothing pure entertainment.

Interested to listen V Sambasivan's Aayisha? Click the link if you are in a mood to enjoy a Kathaprasangam : http://www.devaragam.com/vbscript/WimpyPlayer_ext.aspx?ord=d&var=5066,5067,5068,5069,5070,5071,5065

"Ini njan Urangatte" was one of the most popular Kathaprasangams those days. The story was adopted from a novel with the same title authored by P K Balakrishnan. The story is all about the happenings in Mahabharatham. Cherthala Balachandran did a commendable job in rendering a beautiful story in the form of a Kathaprasangam. He introduces first : The story that I am going to tell you all is "Ini Njan Urangatte..." the thundering of the title is follwed by deafening noice of cymbals and other musical instruments.

He once came to our village temple too. As he thundered the name of his story on stage, Meenakshiyamma fell on the ground. She had already started dozing off since the programme started very late in the night. This was a regular practice by artists and their troupes to reach late at the venue and come to the stage only after testing the patience of the predominantly rural audiances. While sitting on the sandy ground in front of the temple to watch the Kathaprasangam, Meenakshiyamma could not control her sleep. Her fall and the announcement of the name Ini Njan Urangatte happend simultaneously. Even now, this octogenarian, amidst a heartfull laughter, recollects that incident. For people like a rustic old lady,such little incidents only make them ticking. They coould find immense pleasure in such seemingly silly incidents.

Great kathaprasangams like Aayisha and Othallo were part and parcel of the radio entertainments. They never disappointed. In a way, the role played by All India Radio in shapping up our charecters was so big. It showed more social responsibilty too. Programmes like kandathum kettathum, ranjini, ezhuthupetti, narma prabhashanam and drama were all received by the public with both hands, to be more precise, with both the ears. The week long Radio Drama Festival once in a year brought the best from the cultural spectrum of those days. There was a Cinema Sound Track festival too for a week in an year

Our elder brothers had a Radio Listeners club. They used to listen the programmes and send their opinions to the Akasavani. When the letter is read along with the names of the persons in the Ezhuthupetti section, everyone's face used to bloom like lotus. AIR's broadcasts on Agricultural based programmes were very helpful and informative. It helped my eldest brother get an opportunity to go around India at the cost of the government.This weekly sequel had a few questions to answer. Those who participated in all the sequels and answered the questions were selcted for an all India tour by the Akashvani.

Such great things were happening in the villages too. Where has the Akashavani gone? It will be more apt if I asked where has the radio gone? Will we ever hear those words "Akashavani, pradesika varthakal, vayikkunnathu Ramachandran" again? Pradesika varthakal was so beautiful because of the reader called Ramachandran. Of course, with the dawn of FM era, the lovable transistor radio got a re-birth. But, the FM radio was virtually hijacked by the film based programmes and all is sunk in the overdose of advertisements. The beauty of radio listening is further hampered by the Manglish speaking jokeys. No escape. Just layback and enjoy the new era's radio broadcasting trends. But, let us behold the good old Akashavani's memories....

My friend Kapish

Remember Kapish? How can anyone who read 'Poompatta' forget him? He was the hero of a generation. His adventures always sent the young minds into a tizzy. The magic tail appeared whenever the good souls were in distress. The magic tail appeared whenever we the kids were at the edge of the seat. The tail brought cheers to the kids. Kapish ignited our imagination always. In fact we often waited impatiently to see the next edition of the Poompatta. Whenever the teacher was absent in the class, we celebrated it with the latest adventures of Kapish. He was like the then tinsel world's super hero Jayan. He too appeared in the scene when our loved ones were in trouble. Sadly, Kapish lost out to the supernatural charecters of the modern day media

Kapish - A clever, helpful monkey who lives in the jungle of Kadu along with his friends, Baboocha the bear, Bundila the elephant, Pintu the fawn, Motu the rabbit and Panja the eagle. His arch enemies are Sigal the jackal, Peelu the tiger and Dopaya the hunter. Kapish has supernatural powers, which help him to extend and shrink his tail at will. This ability and his quick thinking help him save his friends from Peelu, Sigal and some hunters along with Dopaya.
 

Kapish had another name. Sasikumar. We called him Sasi Chettan. He was a late runner. Sasi chettan started off his school with our elder brothers and sisters, but nothing went well with him. Slowly but steadily he had started lagging behind. Teachers detained him at various classes and at last he waited for me at Class 9. Though he already spent two years there, nothing much had changed for him. He showed no emotions even when he saw his younger brothers and sisters barged into 9B on the first day. That was Sasi Chettan. He took everything as it came to him. God had already programmed everything for him and no one could alter it. He knew, nothing can change and the only thing he could do was to move along God's program!

I do not remember how the name Kapish stuck to him. Of course, he was not a handsome guy but not that bad looking. Certainly he never looked like Kapish. If he were to be named after a monkey, then we the cronies of his, were never less qualified for such decorative names! It was someone's brainwave to deride a simple hearted teen ager. Sadly Sasi Chettan was a point of derision for all the boys who knew him. The name Kapish went viral. Everyone loved to call him Kapish even as he vehemently tried to hush it up. He fretted, fumed then even abused at the guys. Everything was in vain. Perhaps his loath to this name prompted the boys to make it more popular.

He was called by many other names too. His father who was the least impressed at his performance in school called him 'chappan'. It is a very demeaning word in Malayalam that was commonly used by the ruthless fathers of the yesteryears. This is a slang which has no specific meaning, but is used to discribe a person of no use. His father, like any other fathers, would have wanted to see his son perform a little better in school. But, for Sasi chettan, academics was not his cup of tea. His academic perfoemance was excruciatingly miderable and his teachers' attitude was deplorable. The dejected father's approach towards him more painful

In my class, he was the boy who got the maximum number of cane charging. Teachers used to beat him as they pleased. Not even a single day in 9B passed without a teacher or the other admonishing Sasi chettan.  The scene of a lean boy standing in front of a furious teacher with his right hand stretched and taking the strokes of the stick is still flashing in my mind so vividly. He showed no expression of sadness or anger at any point of such punishment sessions. After every examinations, he used to declare " I have answered all the questions, but all will be wrong". His prophesys never went wrong!

We all return home from school together eveyday. In the morning, our gang minus Sasichettan leaves very early and he reaches the school a little late but before the third bell. The walk back from school was really enternaining. The favourite subject of course, was Sasi chettan. Boys always found some fun in whatever Sasichettan said or did. Till the end of our three kilometer walk, we enjoyed it, though, at this age,  I realsie that we did it at the cost of the hurt feelings of an individual. Now, I understand with a sense of guilt that his struggle against all those taunts on him was to save his self esteem.

I must mention about an incident that makes  him different from other guys. Everyday we had to cross a ferry to go and come back from school. This ferry was operated by the panchayat and the boatman was an old man who could hardly walk due to heavy elephantisasis on both his limbs. This ferry during monsoon days used to get disrupted, thanks to water weeds. We call it "payal" in Malayalam. This is the season for the water weeds to multiply and occuppy the entire expanses of the backwaters. During the high tide, water flows from sea to backwaters and so do these floating plants. This makes clogging of the water surface. Water transportation becomes impossible at this time. Still, if we try hard, we can make way for the boat. This old man could never do it. We used to take a detour and resch home very late on such days.

One evening, it was already very late and our gang wes sitting on the other end of the ferry without knowing what to do. The boys and girls were so scared and their face told everything about the mood then. Sasi chettan then jumped into the water and started swimming. He made way through the thick layer of the weeds, swam for around 200 meters and reached the boat. He then, using all the force in his frill body's command, rowed the boat to our end and then took us all to the other side. This, I still believe, was one of the most adventerous acts a teenaged boy could ever do. If he got stranded in the waters on that day, no one would have saved him. 

No doubt he could be called Kapish. Not for his looks but for the heroism he exhibited. He had no supernatural powers, but certainly had some steely nerves and a noble heart. While reminiscing this incident, even now in my mind, he stands taller than many of the 'achievers, among us. I can only offer a salute to my dear friend Kapish. You are still my hero. Long live dear Kapish...

Appooppanthaadi - 54

I just leaned against the pillow to tell you a little more about a desert that turned a mega city. This is the place where thousands of lives sold their dreams. Millions are still selling it but in a better living conditions. From better living conditons many have shifted to cosy living conditions. A welcome news indeed. Now, the creamy layer of the Gulf has a different worry - to find a parking space to park their sedans. Cities like Abu dhabi and Dubai face severe shortage of parking spaces and it is a nightmare for the car owners here. Admistration makes a good fortune out of parking charges in these cities.

After having a masala dosa from the nearby Madurai Restaurant, I had a brief walk along the roads. The masala dosa costed me 6 dirhams. There are a number of Indian restaurants around my hotel. Besides Maudrai Restaurant, there are Swagath restaurant , Cettinad Restaurant and Kamat Restaurant. All these restaurants are run by people fromTamil Nadu. There are lot more restaurants run by Malayalees too but the names given to them have no connection with Malayalam or Keralam and all of them serve mainly meat based food items.

 The Al Ridha restaurant offers lunch with all Kerala dishes along with their favourite rice. But, while enetering the restaurant, what is going to welcome us will be the tempting smell of fish fry or chicken biriyani!  I regularly have my lunch at Ever Green restaurant run by Gujaratis. This is a pure vegetarian set up. A thali costs 12 dirhams and they offer food as much as we like to eat. Chapatis, rice and north indian style 'sabjis' are available in plenty. I felt this restaurant is a nice survival point for a vegetarian.

A little far away, there are Sangeetha Restaurant and Hotel Saravana Bhavan, the big players from Tamil Nadu. They have a chain of restaurants in Tamil Nadu and now their network is spread all over Gulf too. There is another Arab Udupi Restaurant at a stone's throw. Sadly none of these restaurants could exibit the colourful images of their gods. Instead they decorate their cash counters with the images of the rulers of Abu Dhabi and UAE. UAE is a conglomeration of 7 Emirates - Abu Dhabi, Dubai, Sharjah, Ajman, Umm al-Qaiwain, Ras al-Khaimah and Fujairah - and they became a single nation in 1971. Like any other Gulf country, this too is ruled by various dynasties.

Where is that affable 'chayakkada' missing? (Chayakkada is the village side restaurant in Keralam) How exciting it could have been if I could spot an unassuming chayakkada with a glass paned cupboard in the front! I am missing the scene of a cupboard stacked with 'puttu kuttis' 'neyyappams' and 'sukhiyans'.

 By the way, did you have a sukhiyan in the recent past? If not, it is time you prepared them at home. Here is a recepie which I got from the internet : http://www.yummyoyummy.com/2010/05/sukhiyan.html. I had it just a few days back at Ras Al Khaima, thanks to a Malayalee restaurant there.

I miss those good old days of sukhiyans and the special 'appams' made of rice and coconut. We used to have these items at our homes. Our beloved grandmas prepared averything fir us. The rice appam accompanied by coconut chutney was one of the most delicious food stuffs I ever had. Now, I have only hauting memories. O sweet memories, let me take shelter in you whenever I take a break from my run after Gandhi.

The walk was mainly to find out some more restaurants. I really hate to walk along the roads here. The ambience is very hot. To add to that, the powerful airconditioners spit fire on us. Every shop has air-conditioners and their compressor units are lined up on the road sides. Another irritating thing about these air-conditoners is the water it discharges. A trickle there and a trickle there from the airconditioners of the top floors of the buildings is not so uncommon here. The authorities that are so strict about vehicle parking and road disciplne give short shrift to such a dirty thing often. Didn't I see such scenes in Dubai and Sharjah as well?

There were a few roads to cross. There are signals on every busy junctions. Believe me, the same drivers who throw every rule to wind in their home countries respect these signals as much as they respect their religious texts and gods. Eevn in mid night the traffic signals work and the alert motorosts obey whatever be the rules. No crossing of stop line. No acceleration at amber signal. Pedestians stand at the zebra lines and move when the green light is on. But, still there are violations.  A section of the pedestians cross whenever they want and wherever they like. I was told by my friends here that we must cross only at zebra lines and violations may cost penalty by the police. I could see so many people crossing the busy roads as they please.

Whenever the red signal is on, there appeared a motorscycle or two in the front. They wade through the long array of cars to reach the front. With a box in the rear, these bikes are the life line of Abu Dhabi's communication system. They carry couriers to different parts of the city. There are so many motor cycle mounted delivery boys from so many restaurants across the city. Though not in plenty, bikes are seen in Arabian cities.  These motor cyclists run very fast. Once the green signal is turned on, these guys run as if there are in a race. It is frightening to see their ride. Every green signal is opened with roaring sounds of the bikes.

The breakneck speed of the bikers gives the onlookers a heartstopping feeling. Their run is for survival anyway. There are so many anxious souls waiting elewhere in the 'third world' to see the money orders. Money orders are passe' however. Now everything is done through exchanges. In every nook and corner of cities in gulf countries, we can see money transfer agencies. They transfer money through internet at a lightning speed, but still I doubt if they can match the speed of the bike!

On my way back home, I got my mobile sim card recharged. Mobile service providers are limited to two. Etisalat and Du. They enjoy the monopoly and as a result, call charges are very high. We cannot find their outlets like we see in our country. To buy a sim card or a recharge coupon we have to visit certain shops like departmental stores.  Alternately, top ups can be done on the foot paths. At every corner of a building, we can spot a minimum of two men holding mobile phones in their hands. They do the top up for the mobile phones. This is a low income business but there are a lot of men involved in this. This sector is dominated by Bangaladeshis, I guess.

By the way, I must narrate my own adventure in between. As a part of the new job in the off-shore oil fields, I have been directed by the new employer to undergo a sea survival course. It was a one day course that included a class room seesion and a swimming pool session. As is wont for me, I dozed off for a while in the class room.   In the post lunch session, I have been put in a helicopter model. I sat inside the container tieing a seat belt and wearing a life jacket. The "helicopter" was lifted using a crane and then lowered into the water. As it went upto my neck level, the "chopper" has been rotated keeping me inside.

I was instructed to remove the seat belt once the 'chopper' comes to a halt. As it has been rotating, I lost all sense. After a few seconds, I found myself above water! Surprisingly, I remembered to pull the string of the life jacket at that point of time. The inflated life jacket kept me floating in water. This is a training everyone who wants to work off-shore has to take.

As I have been returning after the 'successful' completion of the training ( though I took only one day training, the training institute issued a certificate in which they mentioned I have taken two days' training!!)  , my mind was full of thoughts. Thoughts of those good old days with my previous employer. It was by and large a worryless laidback job. I could travel all over the world without incurring even a penny from my pocket. I saw a cross section of the world with avid interest. I enjoyed every bit if it.  Here comes a break to the globe trotting. The life hereafter will be in an open jail somewhere in the middle of the sea. Withdrawal Syndrome? Can be....

Appooppanthaadi -53

He boarded the plane only to drink Vodka. That was what I felt. He got the middle seat to sit. As I was about to make way for him to occuppy the middle seat, he had already made the way by himself. I was a little irritated by that action, but  now I know how to take the irritants in my stride. Anger and emotions need to be controlled to see a better and smiling world. I am learning it and trying to put this into practice. I desparately want to gift a peaceful world to my child to live

The plane took off and as the pilot switched off the seat belt sign, the crew swung into action. The first thing was to serve refreshments. He asked for Vodka. The host poured half level in the galsss and offered it to him. He was not happy. He demanded more and the host obliged. The glass was offered with full vodka, ice cubes and a can of fizzy soft drink. Within no time, the glass was empty.

After the refreshments, they brought the dinner. He demended another round of Vodka then. Knowing his needs, they offered it as he pleased. He sipped the drink along with the dinner that included mutton. I had a vegetarian Indian dinner along with a tin of Pepsi. After the food is served, the hosts reappeared to offer tea/coffee. He again demanded Vodka. The host tried to find an excuse. The agitated guest started protesting. He could speak Arabic. He persisited with demanding another bout of Vodka in Arabic. He even threated to complain to the higher officials of the carrier. Finally the cabin crew had to serve another cupful of the drink. Incidetally, I should say he was a Malayali. He boarded the plane from Chennai and was on his way to Muskat.

For a change, Oman Airways had men as cabin crew. It was however a welcome change. It was a departure from the devil -may- care style of the girls of Jet Airways and the rude behaviour of girls of Qatar Airways. True, the hostesses of many carriers have forgotten to even smile at the guests. The men on board were so pleasing. When the passengers wanted to tell something to these guys, they even squatted on the floor to listen to them. They were willing to listen with a smiling face. Those men on board the Cathe Pacific  flights between Chennai and Hong Kong also were so heartening. I wish, more and more men are found on board in future. Girls, please learn to smile, lest you may loose your jobs.

 

 There were a number of Arab nationals in the plane . Old men, women to children in small and big groups were seen waiting for flights to various Gulf destinations at Chennai airport. Most of these people are reaching Chennai and other cities in India to have specialised treatments. Chennai is one of the most favourite destinations as it can boast of some world class hospitals. One of the passengers on board was a small Arab boy with a broken leg. His left leg was fully bandaged and he could not fold his leg. An affectionate father was struggling hard to keep him in position on board. His love and care for the boy was so absorbing. For around four hours, I was in a class room, learning a lesson or two on how to become a caring father!

The Muskat bound aircraft landed one hour late and it was a 4 hours wait for me to catch the next flight.As I have been cooling my heels at the Muskat Airport launge, I was watching so many men and a few women shopping in the duty free shops there. I was simply awed to see how the people were just picking packets after packets of chocolates and other items and paying at the  cash counter with no emotions in their faces. All these people looked very ordinary and most of them were bound for various destinations in India. A few of them were packing up big liquor bottles too.

 

At 0030 hours my plane took off and in another 90 minutes, it landed at Abu Dhabi. I headed to the exit gate. Before the exit, I collected the visa, underwent the eye scanning,  then had emigration stamping on the passport and collected baggages. Within 30 minutes, I was at the exit gate. UAE issues visa to Indian nationals for a limited period. They send a copy of the visa to our mail id and the original needs to be collected at the airport. This visa is valid only for a few days. Those who need to stay for employment or business need to go through a number of formalities to get the visa stamped on their passports.

Like that I reached once again in the desert. Right now, I have been put up in a hotel and am waiting for the formalities to complete. As long as I am sitting in the comfort of the luxury hotel in the middle of the city, I will never feel that I am living in a desert. Airconditioned room, car, office and restaurants make everything cool. This is a place where petrol is cheaper than water.

Every second person I come across on the road was an Indian. The first person was a Philippino!  Looks may betray their nationalities however. Population of Pakistanis, Bangladeshis and Nepalis is nontheless less than Idians. Malayalees were the pioneers, but they are now outnumbered by the people from different parts of the world.

Onslaught of Philippinos gives every Indian aspirant a run for their money. Every shop is 'manned' by Philippino girls. We can hardly see Indian girls in shops even though most of the shops are run by Malayalees. For that matter, all walks of life is increasingly being occuppied by Philippinos. The Life Line Hospital has a number of Malayalee employees, but the presence of Philippino nurses and other staff members was a pointer towards the forays they made in Gulf.

Contrary to the general perception that Gulf is totally occuppied by Malayalees, I could see more people from other states of India here. Malayalam is not enough to survive in Gulf now, rather, Hindi will be more conveniet as Bangladeshis and Pakistanis too speak Hindi. While the El Dorado Cinemas screens two Malayalam movies, the nearby National Theatres screen three Hindi movies.

I reached Abu Dhabi to open another chapter in my life. This chapter looks to have some turbulant happenings in waiting. It is definitely not going to be a walk in the park like I used to do during my early assignments abroad, while working with my previous employer. That is what the Sea survival training I took the other day suggests....

Andaman Islands -4

Havelock

On the third day, our plan was to visit Havelock Island, the most famous tourist spot in the Andamans. It is an Island situated around 50 kilometers away from Port Blair. There are a number of ships plying between Port Blair and Havelock. Ships take 90 minutes to 4 hours to reach there. The fastest ship reaches in 90 minutes and it is the most sought after cruise in Andaman. We too booked three tickets to travel by this ship though it was a little expensive.

At the Jetty to catch the ship

By the third day of our visit, monsoon gained more momentum and the weather turned rougher. The ship was resheduled to start 2 hours later. This had upset our itenerary. We had to call off the visit to Haveloc Island. An ocean of grief was the result of this act. The dam had broken and the sorrow gushed out in the form of hot tears. My kid was unconsolable. He had been dreaming of a ship journey. A little inncoent heart would have built many a beautiful picture of a swaying vessel in the deep sea. His disappointment found vent like tears. The scene will never fade away from the memories of  his parents. A visit to Havelock is pending and so does a cruise on a ship. Even after 4 years after this incident, we could not fulfil his wish yet.

Havelock is a hotspot for tourists due to beautiful beaches, scuba diving and snorkling. Recently, a very interesting item is added to the atractions in the island. Sea bed walking. Tourists are taken to the sea bed by trained divers and then helped walking there. It must be thrilling. The cost per person to experience this thrill is something around Rs 4000. To know more about it, click the link : http://sealinkadventures.com/.


Plan well, book tickets in advance on ship and enjoy the trip to Havelock in a laid back manner. It is possible if we plan it properly. One day trip will be too hectic. If it is planned for a minimum of two days, we can enjoy the beauty of Havelock to its full majesty. But rememer, staying in Havelock over night may result in a big hole in our purse

This bus carried us to Billiground

 Monsoon played spoil sport in our joy. We retreated to our guest house room. On the next day, we embarked on a long journey. A journey to meet a college day buddy who lives 200KM north of Port Blair. There are two trips by buses from Port Bliar to Billiground everyday. We boarded the bus at 11 in the morning. By 12, it reached the check post. From there, vehicles must move in a convoy. We are about to pass through an area protected by the government to save the ethnic identity of a handfull of people.

This Board displayes the timings of the convoy

Jarawa is an ethnic group consisting of some 180 odd men, women and children. They are facing extinction due to various reasons and the government is all out to protect them. No outsiders are permitted to encroach into their territory. Those who enter their area must exit with the knowledge of the authorities. The check post opens at fixed timings and a gun totting policeman sits in the first vehicle of the convoy. All other vehicles are expected to follow this till the other end of this protected area.

We could see a few tribal men and women during this journey. Jarawas generally do not wear clothes. However, due to advent of cultural invation from all sides, these people started covering the private parts. On sighting these people, everyone on the bus started scrambling for a look at these people. It looked as if people frantically looking for a rare animal that has suddenly appeared in an animal sanctury! These human beings were made mere show pieces for the people from the more civilized land. Honestly, I too hung out my neck to have a glimpse of the Jarawa men and women.



There is a big board inscribed with 'Ten Commandments' at the check post Do not interact with Jarawas...do not offer food to them...do not stop vehicle...do not take pictures.../Government's sincereity is understandable. The dwindling population of a tribe need to be protected. But, I am not convinced about the method the government adopts. What is the logic behind keeping an entire people in perpetual isolation? Shouldn't they study physics, maths, economics and history and join the main stream? Shouldn't they be exposed to the modern life style? How can we afford to keep them insulated from a civilized living?

They throng on the road sides. They even stand on the road. The policeman inside our bus had to coarse them to clear the way for the bus. The tour operators take the visitors to the Jarawa Area in the name of taking them to a mud volcano. Mud volcano is another attraction in Andamans. The real motive behind this trip is usually to exibit the sparcely clothed human beings. The tourist vehicles are slowed down upon spotting the Jarawas and the tourists are allowed to take photographs. Despite all govermental restrictions everything illegal happens there. Internet is galore with photos and videos of Jarawas. Google Jarawa on the net. Shocking pictures are lined up there.

Read more about Jarawas : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jarawa_people_(Andaman_Islands)

 

 

No doubt, as long as the highway that connects North Andaman and Port Blair and the babudom's apathy continue, the belogueared tribe will be at the mercy of a handful of crazy tour operators and their customers...