Warrier's Collage March 23, 2021

Welcome to Warrier's Daily COLLAGE Tuesday March 23, 2021 Om Shanti https://youtu.be/wvs2NW93wJc (Link Selection: M G Warrier) Good Morning Nice Day M G Warrier M 134 A Interaction 1) K Ramasubramanian Mumbai Responding to "Psychology", March 22 "Help Wasp to go out without harming you. It is a creation of God for a purpose including threatening me to bite." 2) V Babusenan Thiruvananthapuram "To kill or not to kill: That is the question." This question is raised by our seemingly innocuous looking Editor and, therefore, I smell a trap. The same question with the change of a single word (instead of 'kill' he used 'be')made the life of an otherwise noble Prince of Denmark utterly miserable. Shakespeare used his sad tale the stuff of a tragic play and made a lot of money. The Prince in question was not able to save the life of a poor girl who doted on him and moaned like a boy on seeing her lifeless body: "Forty thousand brothers with all their love will not make up my sum." What use? Hassan (not Hussan or Hussain) is the name of a prosperous town in Karnataka besides being the headquarters of the district having the same name. Once upon a time this town was the seat of the famous Hoysala empire. In1980, I think, I was asked by my office to attend a meeting there. It was around ten in the night when I reached Hassan. I was directed to a decent hotel. While I was waiting for my turn at the reception, I heard a roaring noice which I initially took to be something like a Sunami. But Hassan was not a coastal town like Udupi. When I looked round, I espied the source of the frightening noice. It was a very huge nest of wasps, like a million bees, behind the receptionist's desk and inside a glass covering. He asked me very politely: "Sir, there are only two rooms available now. One is luckily on the ground floor and the other on the third floor. Which do you prefer? There is no lift here, Sir." "The one on the third floor, of course." said I. I still vividly remember his queer look. That hotel was owned by very devout Jains. During the early years of his fame, many people used to visit Dakshineswar, seeking advice from Sri.Ramakrishna. He never disappointed anyone. One person came with a genuine doubt that haunted him: "Will killing bugs and mosquitoes stand in the way of his spiritual pursuit?" When he reached the presence of Sri Ramakrishna, he saw him killing the bugs in his bed, muttering to himself: "These fellows disturb not only my sleep but my meditation too". Returning to our Editor's question, I would say, if it were two wasps, "wasp midhunam", remembering Aadikavi's utterance, I would lovingly open the window. But here is only one.... 3) S K Gupta Panchkula "Psychology Today" It is felt that 90% of the people may not like to take any chances, more out of fear psychosis, and instantly kill the wasp with flyswatter. It's a different matter that all this goes against the much needed spirit of 'positivity' in our day to day life. 2. R Jayakumar's forward about Arab reply "Mota Bhai, now I have Gujarati Blood in my Veins" reveals the business-centric mindset ***. B World Water Day March 22 2021 https://www.worldwaterday.org/ Excerpts: Celebration of World Water Day 2021 – Valuing Water On 22 March, 2021, World Water Day will be celebrated in an online event. The World Water Day celebrates water and raises awareness of the global water crisis, and a core focus of the observance is to support the achievement ... C Book Review Biography of Saumitra Chatterjee https://frontline.thehindu.com/books/book-review-soumitra-chatterjee-a-life-in-cinema-theatre-poetry-painting-by-arjun-sengupta-partha-mukherjee-in-apu-s-world/article34117196.ece Excerpts: "It is not easy to write the biography of someone like Soumitra Chatterjee, who was not just one of the greatest icons of Indian cinema but also a towering cultural figure who, in many ways, defined his age and times with his genius and intellect. There is no dearth of written material on the man whose name is inextricably linked with the works of Satyajit Ray, and who dominated the Bengali screen and stage for more than six decades. So, a book on him is a very ambitious and bold project to undertake, unless there is something new to offer on the great man and his craft. And that is precisely what Soumitra Chatterjee: A Life in Cinema, Theatre, Poetry & Painting by Arjun Sengupta and Partha Mukherjee does. Published soon after the thespian’s death from COVID-19 on November 15, 2020, the book not only gives a fascinating insight into Soumitra’s life and genius, it explores the historical and sociocultural backdrop in which his great art was born and nurtured." D Readers' Contribution T V M Warrier Nashik My dilemma I am not trying to reveal my biography. A couple of sentences may suffice to explain my background. I was born and brought up in an orthodox family. Customarily Variers are in Temple service. Temple regulations echoed at home. In short my mind was conditioned. Main deity is Goddess Durga while Shiva and Ganesha remained secondary. I left home in search of a livelihood after few years. Lack of Temple atmosphere and din and buzzle of active life altered my routine and prayers became a formality. Thorn of scepticism started growing in my backyard. During this period one of Swami Chinmayananda's Geeta gnana discourse he addressed sceptics light heartedly as doubting Thomases and exhorted them to read and re-read till the doubts are cleared. Guru will appear before them in time for guidance. Six odd decades gone by. "Bhagavath gita as it is" came into my hands containing both Sanskrit text and translations and interpretations in English. I found that Lord Krishna only Supreme over Shiva and Brahma while Sage Manu shot into prominence. My childhood deity is no more in the list. I felt I had boarded the train towards different destination so far. Now it's too late to retrace. I feel myself a gladiator thrown in an amphitheatre disarmed. In search of a guru for a guidance is frought with danger.A couple of hitherto famous saints are cooling their heels in prison while their disciples in hords surrendered their earthly belongings remain in quandary. This is my dilemma. I am only a toddler in spirituality. Hence I prefer a middle path. At times Malayalam poet Akkitham's sentiment echoes in my mind. "Velicham dukhamanuni, Thamassallo sukhapradam".Simply put "Ignorance is bliss ". E Story Time with Vathsala Jayaraman a) Onam & Kerala Onam is celebrated in Kerala marking the arrival of their erstwhile ruler Mahabali once a year. The story of Mahabali is well known to everyone. Mahavishnu, as Vamana asked for land that could be measured by three foot steps of Vamana. When Mahabali agreed, Vamana grew into Trivikrama , measuring patala with one giant step, the whole earth with another giant leap. At the request of Mahabali he placed his third step on the head of Mahabali ensuring Moksha to Mahabali and granted fulfilling his desire of visiting his subjects for a day- that is celebrated as Onam in kerala. Now the question arises that Kerala is stated to be God's own country formed by Parasurama, the 6th incarnation of Vishnu. While Kerala itself was formed during the 6th Avatar of Vishnu, the question arises how Mahabali would have ruled the non existing Kerala during the earlier period of Vamana, the 5th Avatar of Mahavishnu. A logical doubt! Mahabali's empire spanned the whole of creation, not just the tiny strip of land that is Kerala. He gave away this whole empire to Vamana as the first two of the three steps he promised and for the third step he gave away himself and attained moksha. However, he returns to this world once a year for Onam. Perhaps he chose Kerala to be the spot for this annual visit because it is the land founded by Parasurama, or perhaps its just that its only the people of this land that chose to celebrate his visit. Another assumption: After Lord Parashurama's rampage over the evil Kshatriyas he resorted to penance and Lord Shiva appeared before him and granted a boon to rule a land. Parashurama threw his axe from Gokarna to kanyakumari and hence Kerala was formed. Now this Kerala never had people so he had to gather people from different geographies (probably from Karnataka, Ap,TN, Mahabali's paradise was never in Kerala. Its just that the people who used to celebrate Mahabali's arrival every year in AP, Karnataka of TN came to Kerala and celebrated as a remembrance of their culture there. Years later it became Onam and Kerala's own festival. Parashurama did not invent Kerala. He is said to have prevented the advancing ocean from flooding Kerala. So Kerala existed even earlier to Parasurama and the name 'God's own country'-as if it was a new discovery, by Parasurama, seems to lack even mythological evidence. Somehow the mythology prevailed only over Kerala and Onam is branded as the festival of Kerala though Onam sadya is served through out the country in all the restaurants and even in foreign countries on this day. Keralites may offer suitable explanations. Vathsala Jayaraman (For me, ONAM is a festival of flowers, Sadya and the childhood memories of "Oneshwaran" visiting every house during the season-Warrier 🙏 In 2019, The New Indian Express published this article: https://www.newindianexpress.com/magazine/voices/2019/sep/08/onam-a-celebration-of-equality-2029714.html) BONUS b) Management Lessons from the fox The world is undergoing lot of changes and many things acquire new dimension in life. It was the year 2003. My son was doing his Executive MBA in Stanford. A few days after joining I asked him what they teach in Stanford. Pat came the reply 'Fox and the Grapes' Story. I was totally astonished. It was a long conversation. I reproduce whatever I remember. Friends, haven’t we all heard this story before? This story was always told and quoted to convey that the fox was negative minded. We blindly agreed with the negative connotation and laughed derisively at the fox and called him a loser! This is an old attitude. Now they have started seeing the fox in a new light. If each one of us gave undue importance to our every missed goal or opportunity, then don’t you think our life gets too burdensome and doesn’t it rob us of our enthusiasm to live life to its fullest? And doesn’t it blind us with pessimism? Especially in today’s times, when the competition is stiff everywhere, everyone faces failure and rejection at some point or the other. It is a fact. We have to understand that everything we do teaches us something new irrespective of whether we succeed or fail. This is experience and it is invaluable. To dream, to strive and to struggle is the way of life. Simply accept it and remember the quote, “Failure is the stepping stone to success.” So, it is time to change our paradigm and admire this fox’s attitude in a new light. What an attitude he has to pacify his disappointed soul! Yes, I think this much-maligned animal is a great attitude Guru for today’s times. He gives us the message not to cry, get disheartened or wallow in self-pity. This guy tells us to change our thinking process, give our best shot and if we are still unsuccessful, shrug off the disappointment, move on and spot the other opportunities! 'The Great Attitude Guru ' Don’t you now see this fox as a flexible guy on the move, a guy who doesn’t believe in crying over the spilt milk, a great guy with loads of optimism and a guy who has the courage to face disappointment with a great attitude? I think this is the right attitude for the present time. What do you say? 2. Another argument:- Now, had he said to himself something like - well I can't reach THOSE grapes so I will do something constructive and go look for some other grapes or maybe a nice long drink of water from a brook - THAT would be a positive attitude. Otherwise it's just like the drunk guy in a bar who yells and insults at the girl who just turned down his drunken advances. It's a bad attitude. It may not be his fault that he couldn't reach his goal - but its not the fault of the grapes, either. Insulting them may give the fox some sort of grim, temporary satisfaction, but its not a productive or positive attitude. The first argument however lifts the spirit of someone who faces dejection. In Indian context, it reminds me of girl viewing ceremony-boys coming after one another, rejecting her under the pretext of colour, complexion, qualification or mismatch of horoscope. Even in these modern days, such things definitely continue. The girl/the girls' parents are placed in the same situation as that of the fox. The girl says, 'He is not that great. Perhaps better groom is in store for me." Whether it is a consolation or compromise, the losing side has nothing else to do. Edison with his experiment reported to have failed thousand times before he could successfully get the incandescent bulb burning bright. When asked why he did not feel frustrated after numerous failures, he quickly responded that the last experiment taught him about the 999 mistakes. The greatest philosophers say - the greatest glory is not in never falling but in raising every time one falls. I think the top-most management institutions have their attention shifted to Aesop's tales and panchatantra Stories. In MBA terms, the fox meeting with failure dismisses the claim that the grapes were not the ones he wanted and the insignificance gets attached to the non achievable goal. The inquisitiveness to earn or attain something important transforms the fellow to be creative and look for other alternatives.On every failure an assumption is created about the NON_UTILITARIAN aspect of the unattainable. See, the MBA language! The UTILITARIAN VALUE, PREFERENCE CHANGES, SOCIAL CHOICE etc etc are brought into the simple story of Fox and The Grapes. The tenacity of the story bears the moral view that the desires of the people changes with the changes in their whims. The story seems to give a platform for analysing ATTITUDE, its role on DECISION MAKING and TRANSFORMATION IN CLASSICAL SITUATIONS . The story seems to reveal the practical significance of RATIONALIZATION on the basis of POSSIBILITY. I was wondering whether the fox would have dreamt of becoming the centre of discussion in an institution that is in the top list of renowned institutions. In grandma's language, "whether the fox's hunger was satiated or not, it could raise its collar and say proudly that it has become a subject matter of study in STANFORD. Is it not a credit? Every one is after name and fame. Why not the fox? It could even be awarded MBA degree. Vathsala Jayaraman V N Kelkar says: "Good one. Many a times it so happens that a child asks his parents to buy a particular toy for him. The parents know that they can't afford it. They talk to the child and convince him how the same is not that great. They promise to get something better for him . Child is happy with parents choice." (Kelkar Ji, You have simply recollected what happened in our younger days. For many, many a thing were taught to be sour grapes and none dared to taste. -Badrinarayanan Cheñnai) F Leisure 1) Nawab of Cricket* A beautiful and intensely moving foreword on Tiger Pataudi’s Biography! Sharmila Tagore writes well, had great insight and is very honest. A Long Post, nevertheless, Please do read it, you don't want to miss such a wonderful reminiscence about a great man by his wife. Read on.... Pataudi: Nawab of Cricket, Edited by Suresh Menon.... Foreword 27th December 2011 would have been our forty-third wedding anniversary. But we didn’t make it. We ran out of time on 22nd September. On that day I stepped into a strange new world. Everything was familiar and yet everything was different. After forty-seven magical years of being together, Tiger left. I deeply mourned his absence but I could also feel his lasting presence. Tiger has not gone away; he continues to fill my life. He is around for me in many ways I did not expect. He may not be with me when I sit down for a meal or next to me when I put my feet up for a movie, nor do I see him when I wake up in the morning. Yet he is here. Much as I feel deprived, I do not feel alone. In that matter-of-fact way of his, he has given a stability, a sense of rectitude and a lot of cheer to our home and life. And in our life it will stay. I feel sure of it somehow. I think of this as an enduring blessing, a priceless gift and not just as a temporary consolation. That is why putting together this book is not only cathartic, but a welcome idea. It gives me another opportunity to relive all those moments we spent together— often exciting, fulfilling, troubling and triumphant and once in a while even blissfully sublime. I first met him a few weeks before my twenty-first birthday. He was three years and eleven months older. What instantly attracted me to him was his sense of humour and his innate gentleness. I felt that I could trust him implicitly. He was, even at that young age, the same person he was till the end of his life— mature, calm, responsible, with the strongest sense of self. I, on the other hand, was impulsive and quite unschooled in the ways of the world. I guess we complemented each other. When I think back on some of Tiger’s attitudes, actions and reactions that were so uniquely his own, I realize how he was an excellent mix of multiple cultural influences. He had an orthodox upbringing at home, where he learnt Urdu and Arabic and imbibed the ways of the manor to which he was born. His father, who played the sitar beautifully, introduced him to the richness and beauty of Indian classical music. At his behest, Tiger learnt to play the flute, the harmonium, and the tabla, which was felt to be the essence of all musicality. While he inherited his father’s zest for life, he was also an intensely private person like his mother. His father’s unexpected death resulted in his being sent away to prep school in England at the age of eleven. His cricketing skills had already created an interest at the Roshanara Club of Delhi, where he was allowed to play with the adults under his father’s benevolent gaze. This talent blossomed at Lockers Park and over the next ten years he made his mark at Winchester and Oxford where he went on to break several records. Girish Karnad recalls his Oxford days with Tiger, not so much his cricket but his love of music. It was great fun for us, travelling with one or the other of his musical instruments, listening, playing and humming along. There was always laughter and joy at 1 Dupleix Road, his home in Delhi. Whenever the family got together, Tiger regaled us with his ‘hiran dance’, which could compete with any of the present-day item numbers, and his hilarious ‘Hawa mein udta jaaye’ caper. Another oft-repeated favourite was the cricket dance. In fact, Buggy (Abbas Ali Baig) and Tiger had the temerity to perform it in front of Sonal Mansingh not so long ago. Tiger was a great Lata, Talat and Rafi fan and it was he who introduced me to Begum Akhtar. He was equally sporting on the dance floor if Harry Belafonte or Ella Fitzgerald were belting out their numbers. I remember there was a furore years ago when my photograph in a bikini was carried on the cover of Filmfare. It was still early days in our relationship, he was playing at Hove for Sussex, and I was shooting for An Evening in Paris in Europe. He sent me a telegram that read: ‘Relax! You could only be looking very nice.’ Simply that. His quiet support gave me strength and calmed me down. Exposed to his brand of confidence, I realized I actually did not have it. I was adventurous, spirited, even enterprising, but he had that cool, ‘I am-ok-no-matter-what’ attitude which I envied. He was unflappable, which made him the best bridge partner anyone could wish for. And in his pragmatic, down-to-earth manner, he always managed to transmit that indefatigable confidence to me when I needed it the most. What I enjoyed enormously was his skill of being a gentleman without being boring. Because if you were as correct as he was, you could end up being a tad tedious. But that is something no one could accuse him of. His wit came to the rescue every time. Like once, when Shammi Kapoor hijacked the taxi that Tiger and I had ordered for ourselves at a restaurant in rain-blown Paris, I was really angry. Tiger decided to fall to his knees right there on the pavement with a bouquet of flowers whisked off a nearby table, completely flooring the fellow diners, and indeed me! My tantrum turned to laughter, which is precisely what he wanted. And the rain too was forgotten till the next cab rolled up for us. I guess it was a perfect capture of our courtship as we snatched time with each other between playing matches and shooting films! Tiger’s humour never deserted him. Another time, at a party when he was being pestered by an overly coy person who kept asking how she should address him, he replied with a straight face: ‘Your Highness will do.’ Thank heavens, most people got to know it was his style of making light an awkward moment, rather than being arrogant or dismissive. His skirting the same question when asked by Sunil (Gavaskar), as he recalls in this book, was perhaps his way of saying, ‘I leave it to you.’ At twenty-one, I was prone to exaggeration and using highly dramatic words simply for their effect. This didn’t work with Tiger. You had to watch your words carefully even if you were in a tearing hurry or extremely upset. Each spoken word was remembered and taken very, very seriously. Since I wanted to be taken seriously, I soon learnt to say what I really meant without getting carried away by histrionics or the heat of the moment. Punctuality was another virtue I had to learn quickly. The only Bengali sentence he learnt to say was, ‘Tumi jodi poneroh minute-er modhe toiri na howe, tahole kintu ami chole jabo’ (if you don’t get ready in fifteen minutes, I am leaving) and that’s precisely what he did. He had a firm aversion to cuss words. This always surprised me, given that he spent most of his youth away from parental proprieties. There was a time in my life when I used the word ‘crap’ regularly and unthinkingly. One day he asked me, ‘But do you know what it means?’ And I must tell you, I stopped using it almost instantly on discovering that minor detail! He would allow himself an ‘O Christ!’ in moments of surprise and exasperation. That was the most extreme expression of dissatisfaction I heard through all our years together. ‘Manners maketh man,’ he often quoted, stressing on the merit of correct behaviour in public places. I often goaded him about his remaining silent, often stubbornly so, when there was a discussion on a subject he knew exceptionally well. But regardless of my prodding and my amazement at his silence with all the inaccuracies being expressed all around him, he held back unless his opinion was sought. Unlike him, I tended to jump into the fray and repeat my arguments in different ways in an attempt to convince others. And he would shake his head and say very quietly, ‘You’ve made your point, why go on about it.’ Then, I ignored his advice. Now, I do exactly as he would have done. Although he believed that you cannot and must not over-instruct and be overbearing, he did a great job of working with our kitchen staff and masterminding a terrific menu on the table for quite some years. There he would be on his favourite takht in his den with the dish coming up from the kitchen for a dekko and a sniff and a request for a dash of this or the other. Yes, by the end he was more than a gourmet consumer. He had become a remote-control gourmet chef as well. The family especially appreciates Bishan’s tribute when he talks about the resolve with which Tiger built the spirit of the Indian team. Merely seven years after our Independence, Tiger became a hero in Winchester, despite being the only Indian boy in an English school, on the strength of his excellence in cricket and other sports. He was therefore abundantly clear on one score: that colour, creed, looks, religion, language need be no bar for any cricketer on the field. It was performance that mattered, the team spirit and the focus on winning. As captain, he was not one to get too excited about individual scores, personal heroism or charisma. It was more about the gathering of forces, the bonding together as a team and the eventual result. And it was in pursuit of this that he gave fielding such a special pride of place in the game. By enjoying and excelling at it, Tiger gave fielding the much-needed attention it deserved in Indian cricket. The cricket experts in this collection write about the subtleties of his game and career, each highlighting a special aspect. But Tiger never dwelt on his trials or triumphs, and didn’t allow us to do so either. So there was never any talk at home about the rioting of 1947 in Pataudi as experienced by a six-year-old, or his feelings about losing his father on his birthday or witnessing the subsequent mourning of his very young mother. He would get very annoyed if we ever made the mistake of speculating about what his batting average might have been had the accident not happened. However, I can’t help feeling that breaking all of Jardine’s batting records at Winchester, while still a schoolboy, must have been a colossal high for him. Especially because his father, Pataudi Senior, had a much-reported dispute with Jardine over the ethics of bodyline bowling. To remain undeterred by a blow, however severe, became characteristic of the man. I am sure that all three children of ours value this courage-under-fire quality and indeed try to imbibe it. When the captaincy went in 1971, it was Saif’s arrival into the world that restored Tiger almost instantly. Indeed, through his life, Tiger’s ambitions, concerns and excitements were consistently centred on our three children, and he remained, till the end, very proud of their success in their respective fields. While being supportive, he was firm about his values pervading their lives. This he managed without any sermon, any reprimand. Over the devastating month of his illness, he amazed us constantly. He remained himself despite the terrible discomfort. Despair was not permitted. The endless regimen of hospital routine— the stream of ward boys, nurses and doctors, tubes and drips, oxygen masks, doors banging, cell phones ringing— was a total invasion of privacy. It must have been hard for such an intensely private person, yet not once did he complain. He continued to engage with people around him and come up with his famous one-liners. One day, after the usual rigours of physiotherapy, a nurse said cheerfully, ‘See, today we have done everything.’ Tiger’s swift counter was: ‘You call that everything?’ Tiger’s room at the hospital had a big picture window. Through that you could see the wide expanse of the September sky, the sunrise and the sunset, the ever-changing monsoon clouds, the intermittent rain, sometimes light, at times torrential, and the playful pigeons on the ledge. This became our world. The incredible emotions of that month with him in the hospital are impossible to express. It was a time of intimate sharing. Every day was a gift and every moment precious. It was as if forty-seven years of togetherness were condensed in them. Our days in the hospital became an intensely lived experience, and they remain in my memory as vibrant, honest moments. Tiger would often drum a taal on the steel railings of the bed, humming a ghazal or a Hindi film song. He would often hum Dil jalta hai toh jalne do, a song with which he wooed me once upon a time. We talked about love, life, death. His body was failing him but his mind was alive. He wanted to live and he wasn’t going to give up without a fight. Moments before he fell into the sleep from which he would not wake, he told me, ‘Rinku, it is not settling, but hopefully it will.’ These words will remain with me forever. I had loved Tiger for forty-seven years, was married to him for almost forty-three. We didn’t make it to fifty. But it was a memorable partnership; certainly, an enriching one for me. I am sure more books will be written about Tiger Pataudi, the man, the cricketer. It is a shame that he will not be around to add his amused quip to this one, or the ones to follow. But having read this book, you may have a fair idea of how he might have summed it up, with or without words. *Forward received from R Parthasarathy (Forbes Review: https://www.forbesindia.com/article/appraisals/book-review-pataudi-nawab-of-cricket/34777/1) 2) Ground Reality* An elderly man living alone in Milton Keynes wanted to plant his annual tomato garden, but it was very difficult work since the ground was hard. His only son, Paul, who used to help him, was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament: Dear Paul, I am feeling pretty sad, because it looks like I won’t be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I’m just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. I know if you were here my troubles would be over.. I know you would be happy to dig the plot for me, like in the old days. Love, Dad A few days later he received a letter from his son. Dear Dad, Don’t dig up that garden. That’s where the bodies are buried. Love, Paul. At 4 a.m. the next morning, CID officers and local police arrived and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left. That same day the old man received another letter from his son. Dear Dad, Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That’s the best I could do under the circumstances. *Forward received from Dr T V Surendran Mananthavady G Quotes about water https://jainsusa.com/blog/my-7-favorite-quotes-about-water/ Like: "The earth, the air, the land, and the water are not an inheritance from our forefathers but on loan from our children. So we have to handover to them at least as it was handed over to us.” – Gandhi

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