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...

 

 

Appooppanthaadi -52

Believe me, these cars are not owned by managers and VPs

The Scottish Manager's decision to sack the workers certainly looked harsh. Finding oneself jobless in a fine morning is really a painful experience.  But, I am a little confused to confirm if these workers of the company felt disparaged by the action of the boss. Many of the workers in this company had big cars in their possession. Everyday, one side of the factory premises is lined up with high end cars. No doubt, these guys are leading a flashy life. How do they have this much money? Where will they go if they were shown the door? No worry, they are rich enough to absorb such shockers. During any discussions with the guys there, we invariably dwelt at the richness of the individuals.

Look at the red-ribbons. they bring good luck

Many of them were interested in making money somehow. They always wanted to be rich. Owning a house and then a car and adding all other pomp in their life were their priorities always. Most of the guys and gals whom I saw in their offices were seen doing internet shopping whenever they got time. While the guys search for electronic goods, gals were seen looking out for apparels. 

 
The other day one of the Chinese employees of the customer who came to expedite the manufacture had suddenly disappeared. Everyone present there was wondering where this gentleman has gone. After a few hours, he resurfaced, brandishing a latest model Samsung Smart Phone. He spent around 6000 yuans to buy this phone. This man drives a Skoda car too. At the sight of the glittering piece of technology, my heart slipped a beat. We may often go breathless if we see the way the Chinese spend. Last time I saw one man coming to the work place wearing a winter jacket that had a price tag of around 4000 yuans.

This manufacturing firm is a well constructed set up making living quarters for the use at project sites. These containers are equipped with all facilities to lead a comfortable life at the hard construction sites. Their containers too probably carrying the infamous tag to bad quality of Chinese products but as a person who was there from the material purchase to the dispatch of the product, it will be harsh on my part to say anything bad about the quality. Raw materials are purchased from sub vendors along with test certificates, the same way it is done anywhere in the world. Important raw materials are then inspected by a third party inspection agency that reviews the manufacturer's test certificate also. However, safety is not a priority here too like in our country. People were seen using grinding machines without even wearing a face mask.

Every stage of manufacture went through the tests/checks mandated by the customer/ certification agency. To the best of my knowledge there was not even a single time, they tried to dilute the requirements. At the beginning of work, the base frame's I-beam welding did not pass the X-ray test. The vendor rectified the defect sincerely, tested and only after the result was positive, they proceeded further. All these were happening even without being policed by the customer representative, that was me. I could not find any fudging on norms or watering down of standards during the entire manufacturing process. The stigma of bad quality on Chinese products can never be removed nevertheless. As a patriotic citizen of my country, I too love to join the chorus that sings "Chinese quality is very bad" though I find no reason to justify the song's content.

Incidentally I must narrate about a desi manufacturer whom I visited just a week back in Chennai. This manufacturing unit is situated in an industrial area in the outskirts of Chennai. Like most of Industrial Areas in our country,  this too wore a pathetic look. All damaged roads, water logging all over and no proper infrastructure were the hallmarks of this industrial area too. The road to this firm was like a pond. No on can reach this vendor without wetting himself/herself till the ankle. The dirty water ( it can be sewage water too!) may reach out to the shoes and trousers in this effort.

 The vendor maintains a run down shop-floor amidst all this chaos. For that matter the question is what more he can maintain? No one cares for proper drainage system, proper transport system or a proper planned construction of buildings in an Industrial area. Quality is certainly a no word in such manufacturing units.

There were no established systems of manufacturing nor quality control followed in this factory. The vendor do not have any accreditation from any of the acclaimed certification agencies to his credit. He does not possess calibration certificates for the test equipment. "Chalega" is the only word that works here. Everyone strictly implements this slogan.

Still, I love to join the chorus that sings "Chinese Quality is very bad...". Traditionally pot exercises its right to call kettle black whenever it gets a chance - even if it is a half chance!