Watching VVS train in Secunderabad

When I was a kid, I went to school at the St. John’s Primary school and then the St. John’s high school. During this period we used to reside just opposite the school grounds and this provided me with lots of opportunities to play all my favourite games.



During the summer holidays however, we used to pack off to my parents native place in Karnataka. One summer this routine was not observed due to some reason. That year I watched kids play at the school grounds. There was a summer cricket coaching camp organized and there were many kids in white. One kid however had a separate training facility and a dedicated coach.



Though I did not realise it then, I was watching one of the stalwarts of present day Indian test cricket – The very very special VVS Laxman.

Sachin Tendulkar and the 17,000 runs saga

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Pakistani off-spinner Abdul Qadir cast a look of mockery at the young padded and helmeted man all set to face him armed with a willow. 'Man'!!! It would have been rather suitable to call him a kid. Aged sixteen and standing at a puny 5 feet 3 inches, the kid couldn't even reach Qadir's shoulders. Playing in a 'practice' match after rain had washed out play during the Indian tour of Pakistan in 1989, Qadir decided to teach the young kid a lesson in spin bowling. Six balls and twenty runs later, Qadir was the one who was taught a lesson in the art of playing against spin.

Twenty summers ago when a 16 year old was selected to play in the Indian cricket team, it was just the initiation of the world to the genius of one Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. It was the d(o)n of a new era - Sachin's era.

In India heroism is a virtue treasured and often worshipped. and in a cricket crazy country like India, its cricketers are nothing lesser than immortals. 'If Cricket is Religion, Sachin is its God' - This is often what we read on T-shirts, placards and posters during a game.Sachin could have been easily carried away in that cacaphony of possessed fans, of glittering lights and cash rich matches. Even after years of toil and performance, a single bad series is enough to dent your image and following. Similarly a single misdeamenour off the field can endanger your career (as Tiger Woods has found out recently and as Shane Warne found out earlier).

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Yet after 30,000 runs and 87 centuries, we still find this kid from Mumbai still has his skills honed at the peak. His recent knock of 175 against Australia at Hyderabad was one for the Gods. India lost the match by a narrow margin chasing a mammoth 350, and 10 other team members together couldn't muster 175 between them - yet the media in the comforts of their press seats wrote - Shouldn't he have finished the match?

A man who had shouldered India's batting line up single handedly in most of the last decade, till Sourav Ganguly and Rahul Dravid came along, one who has a century against every test playing nation, and with 17,000 runs in ODI's with 44 centuries, isn't it a bit harsh to still doubt his commitment and temparament??

'Before Elvis there was none' is one of the famous quotes of John Lennon. In Indian cricket - 'Before Sachin there was none and After Sachin there'll be none.

Uday Shankar and love marriage

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I was watching the movie Daud, starring Sanjay Dutt and Urmila Matondkar the other day. In one of the sequence, they identify themselves as Uma Parvati and Daya Shankar respectively. The names reminded me of a schoolmate of mine at St.John’s School in East Marredpally, Secunderabad, where I studied up till my 4th standard.

He was a lean and unusual guy, with very vertically pointed hair, which, refused to lie down still. In those days, we children did not have video games or television to while our time away. Our society also hadn’t evolved to the present extent. As such, the lunch break and after school hours were spent playing various outdoor games, such as hide and seek, catch, cricket, football etc among other things.

In those days arranged marriages were the norm (Even today they are the right thing to do in our society) and speaking about love and such other things were considered taboo and if elders heard such stuff, we were to be severely reprimanded. So it was a day of shock to me and some of my friends, when one day, Uday Shankar, while lying on his Mother’s lap, during lunch hours at school, said with an air of nonchalance- “My mother had a love marriage”.

Sadly after we shifted out of Marredpally and I joined a new school, I lost all contact with Uday. I still recall his face to this day, whenever my friends ask me about my marriage.

The Chamundi betta Episode

Summer holidays in our childhood meant visits to our grand parents’. For two months every year, we would be off to Tirthahalli and Brahmavar, small towns in southern Karnataka, where we would enjoy the atmosphere with all our relatives. More about those summer escapades in some other post.

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This story is on a different topic. Dad would be offered one all expenses paid trip to any destination every two years by the bank he used to work for. One summer he decided to take us on a trip to the South Indian city of Mysore. Mysore lies close to Bangalore and is about a 3-4 hour journey. We had relatives in Mysore at that time and went to stay with them. Mysore is famous for its dassara festival usually held in the month of October. Now this was a summer trip so we did not get to see the festivities. However there are quite a few other attractions in this once lovely city – almost a hill town those days (early-mid 1980’s). There are the Brindavan gardens, Gopalaswamy betta and Chamundi Betta , the mysore palace and other nearby tourist attractions.

During our stay there we visited the Chamundi Betta (Betta is the Kannada word for Hill/hills). This is a temple shrine for the hindu goddess Chamundi (an avatar of Kali) and is located on top of a hill named after this deity. There is a huge figure of Mahishasura at the entrance, if I recall correctly (20 years of data to recall). Now, where there is a temple, this being true of most shrines in India, there are monkeys. The Chamundi hills were no exceptions. We were advised to keep all loose belongings and eatables inside bags/pockets and proceed to the temple. Kids were to be held close by so that the monkeys would leave us in peace.

Parle Poppins were a favourite for kids those days. The circular candies were a hit with both parents and children. With parents because they were cheap and affordable and with children because they cam in so many flavours. After our visit to the temple and while returning back down the hill, my sister without us knowing, took out her pack of Poppins and proceeded to eat one. No sooner was the pack out a monkey grabbed it and made haste and my stunned sister – she must have been around 4 years of age then- started bawling and wanted the pack back. No amount of consoling would calm her down. An offer was made to buy her a new pack when we descended down the hill… but still there was no sign of her calming down. Finally I offered my pack and seeing that I wouldn’t have one if she took it, she grabbed it and stopped crying.

For a considerable period of time after that, whenever she had something I wanted and needed urgently, a gentle reminder of what happened at Chamundi Betta and things got better !

Lost in Monda Market

Secunderabad is quite a large city in the State of Andhra Pradesh in the south Indian peninsula. However it is not that well known as its immediate neighbour – Hyderabad, the capital city. Together they are the twin cities, divided by the Hussainsagar lake. I grew up in this very beautiful city in my formative years. It had huge open spaces and clean and uncluttered roads and was a very cost-economic city in the eighties and early nineties, prior to globalisation and cable TV. The Secunderabad of today though is just like any other metropolis and has completely lost its charm. However that is not the story of this piece.



A few months after the tomatoes at Muddunur episode, my sister was born and around the same time, dad got transferred to a branch in Secunderabad on promotion. This was quite a welcome change for my parents. The city was then a good place for people from Karnataka as there were quite a few localities with Kannada and Konkani speaking families. Also my dad had begun planning for us and considered it a god given opportunity to begin my schooling at a good convent school. A few years after the transfer the episode – lost in Monda market happened.



As at Muddunur, Sunday was still regarded as the day for shopping, because dad was free only on this special day, other days were spent working on countless files, account sheets and what not at his office. This was the cost he had to pay to assure his children of a good life and the remaining day was for us. On Sundays, after breakfast, dad used to set out to the nearby Secunderabad market or as it was then known as the Monda market. One hand would hold a shopping bag or basket (I do not remember which), the other would be carrying my sister who was still very young to walk on her own. And since those where the only two arms he had, I used to put a hand in his trouser pocket and walk alongside. Mom usually stayed at home in those days. After a few hours, the shopping bag would fill up with vegetables and fruits and then we would walk back, for mother to cook us a delicious lunch. This was the usual routine for quite a long time and was a very exciting thing for me at that age.



However one Sunday, the usual routine was broken. As usual I was walking alongside my dad with a hand in his trouser pocket. I think what happened was that I got distracted by some sweets at one of the shops in the market and temporarily let go of dad’s pocket; or, maybe dad had to get his wallet out of the pocket and in the process asked me to let go. Whatever the reason, my hand was out of his trouser pocket for a short period. What happened next seems funny now, but at that time it created a lot of stress for my parents and my dad was close to a nervous breakdown.



I placed my hand back in the trouser pocket, but not that of my dad. I had started walking alongside a complete stranger without realising it. As was my habit I was looking at the various exciting shops, while the stranger was completely oblivious to the fact that he had a hand in his pocket which was not his!! My dad meanwhile was frantically searching for me. The stranger kept moving along and when he reached the shop where he wanted to buy a few items, reached for his wallet and there it was… a hand that did not belong to him… tracing it further there I was… a child… which he had not conceived. At the split second it took for him to realise what had happened… I looked up and my tiny brains realised that something had gone wrong. This wasn’t the person I stayed with… this wasn’t my dad!! I began crying.



People in those days were very helpful and compassionate. Unlike in the present, people usually cared for others in all circumstances and not just during adverse situations. This complete stranger could have just left me and gone about his work. However he was genuinely concerned about my safety and picked me up and retraced his steps till he came to a shop where the shop keeper knew me. Here I was given sweets and made to calm down. Dad meanwhile had retraced to this shop and not finding me, searched a few other areas and returned home to inform my mother that he had lost me. He then returned my sister and went to a cousins place to get assistance and return to the market.



Meanwhile the stranger who was looking after me tried to ask me where I stayed. The shop keeper gave me more toffees to calm me. The problem was that I did not know much of the local language – either Telugu or Hindi and they did not know Konkani – my mother tongue. After much pacifying and prompting I indicated that I could diect them to my house. The poor chap then walked in the direction I took pointed (Probably across all of the shops in the market where dad used to buy stuff) which must have been quite a roundabout as I don’t think I could remember a direct route. Finally after much pointing and walking we reached my home and there mom was waiting for me. The Good Samaritan did not even have a glass of water. He just scolded mom asking her whether this was the way to take care of a kid and such other things and left.



My dad by this time was on the verge of giving up the search and posting a missing persons report at the Monda Market police station when as a last resort he reached the sweet shop where I was having some chocolate just a few minutes ago. The Shopkeeper told him about how the stranger had found me. He told my dad that the stranger had decided to take me home. After waiting for a few anxious moments there and since we did not return, he decided to return home and see whether I had taken the stranger along the correct route back home. And there I was welcoming him home. My dad was relieved man that day and the coming Sundays where then spent by me either at home or on trips to the market without my sister.

Tomatoes in Muddunur

Everyone has a favourite childhood story. I have quite a few. This one is tomatoes in Muddunur. Back in the days when the computer was unheard of as a household necessity, and when the Colour TV wasn’t available in colour, my dad was posted to a small rural village in the Cuddapah district of Andhra Pradesh . His office was at Prodattur village and the closest town (if you could call it that) was Muddunur. Now the area is very harsh, environmentally and culturally. My parents are from the neighbouring state of Karnataka and were non-telugu speaking. So language wise and culturally it was a complete change, also, the environment was that of a semi-desert. My mom recalls that there were all sorts of reptiles and it was a very dry and arid region. She also used to tell me about all sorts of scorpions which would enter our home and nest in my dad’s shoes. Oh! And yes the, local leader than was one Mr.Y.Rajashekhar Reddy (Who later became Dr.Y.Rajashekhar Reddy, the previous chief minister of Andhra Pradesh – recently expired in a helicopter crash), whom my dad recalls as a customer at his bank.

The harsh weather and arid region made it difficult to grow any sorts of vegetables or for that matter any crops around the house. Hence every weekend dad would go to the nearest town to buy the week’s supplies. It so happened that we fell short of tomatoes one week and since it was not feasible to go to the town to get some, she asked our neighbour for some. I was 3 years old then. Mom asked me to go and fetch the veggies from the neighbours. But then a problem arose… my mom wanted at least 3 tomatoes and my tiny hands could carry only two…. So my brilliant mind worked up an idea!! I asked the neighbour to stuff one into my mouth!

Meeting Old Friends

With time we tend to move apart, but, the bond of friendship persists. Often we make promises to keep in touch, but fail to keep them. Today’s fast paced lifestyle and deadlines to keep, makes it difficult to keep in touch with old friends who have taken a different path in life.

Every once in a while though, there comes a time when the stars align and we get a chance to meet an old friend. I met one such friend after a gap of 5 years. He had recently wed and somehow deemed it fit to remember me and drop by with his lovely wife.

We caught up on old times and the new happenings in each other’s lives. For 24 hours it was a welcome break from the hectic schedules and day to day melancholy.

Thanks Dr.Sunil Ankolekar and Dipali for the wonderful time.

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Corruption in Medical Education

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For the past few days, my real life caught up with me, forcing me to take a break from writing on this blog. Another bout of procrastination further slowed me down. However this time I will try to persevere with my writing.

The Times news network has been highlighting the rampant corruption in the medical education system in India. They have given the example of only a few colleges in the southern states. The Times of India also carried a small article about the Chairman of the Medical Council of India – Dr.Ketan Desai. What is interesting though has been the almost zero impact of these articles in the political scene. Also there hasn’t been any response from the public.

Is this a sign of things to come? Do the people think that this is something which will not affect them?

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Blogs and Plagiarism

I first started blogging in the year 2005. My first blog Everything Under The Sky, was an attempt to unleash the writer, I believed, could make a difference in this world. The other reason for starting that blog was because I had read that a blog could be a good source of supplemental income. However, It was a failure in both aspects.

Firstly, It did not contain my own thoughts, there was no originality. It was just a random collection of articles, clips and stuff I plagiarized from various newspapers, websites, other blogs and various online forums. Since there was not much original content, there were few people linking to my stories and google did not send much traffic my way. Leading to the blog not being a good income generator.

Secondly, I commercialized it to such an extent that I abhorred working on it. This further decreased the quality of the content on that blog and decreased the likelihood that anyone would take it seriously.

Hence, I have decided to start all over again. I shall attempt to keep this one uncluttered and free from the aforementioned defects. I hope to post original content and thoughts. And lastly, this blog will not be for money. Let's see how I do this time.

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Arjavamarga - The Direct Path

I always wanted to be a writer. Probably because, I think, I am a good reader. Books have been good friends for me. They do not discriminate between people. Whether an introvert (like me) or an extrovert, most people like to read books. I was introduced to reading at a very early age. My father used to subscribe to various magazines and bought children's novels home and would place them in front of me. He introduced me to the world of print, a magical place; a place where I could not be bullied because I was of small built; a place where I would not be shunned from because I refused to compromise with my principles; a place where something I said or did because it was the truth would not hurt others.

The written word mesmerized me, inculcated in me the need to respect other people, cultures and thoughts. It helped me in my academics - the books I read helped me with my history, geography, social studies and even science. (The one place they failed me where in Mathematics- which I find difficult even today).

It brought about an ardent desire in me to write. Write something which will be read by others. Others who would then be mesmerized, inspired and moved into putting their thoughts into words. Words which would come back to me. I would always look for something to write about. My English language teachers - Ms.Mohsina (Kendriya Vidyalaya, Bowenpally, Secunderabad) and then Mrs.Sudha Grover (Kendriya Vidyalaya, IIT Powai, Mumbai) - were extremely helpful in this respect.

Unfortunately, despite constant encouragement, I could not come up with any substantial effort and have not written anything of note. The writer in me wakes up every now and then, but the inertia accumulated over the past 30 years stops him from making an impact. This coupled with my procrastination have seen many a writing idea slip out of my mind into the realms of have been.

This is an attempt at finding the correct path - the Arjavamarga or Direct path to my dreams. I actually wanted to create this blog under the title -'A Clean Slate'- but since someone has already chosen to start with it, I will take the direct path.

Potato Lovers @ Snack Shack

One of the often visited restaurants in Manipal is the trendily named Snack Shack. What's odd about the naming is that , it is neither a shack in the true sense, and they serve stuff other than snacks. However this post is not about name calling. This is a post about the snack (if I can call it that) I like the most at this small town eatery.

Every time I visit this place, I have never given a miss to the dish they call 'Potato Lovers'. It is nothing very complicated and I believe there is no love involved in making it, but, it is the fastest selling snack at this shack. The potatoes are sliced into slender slices like French Fries and then fried in oil and then soaked in a tangy sweet and sour sauce, before they are, finally served with a garnishing of Tomatoes or Cabbage leaves or whatever Vegetable is lying in front of the Cook at that fortunate moment. It is served within 5 minutes of the order and If you are in a hurry, it is both a quick solution to your time constraints, and since the quantity served is quite large, your hunger problems as well.

Hair Cut With The Boss

What do you do when,you walk into the Barbers shop, and bump into your boss? This is exactly what happened yesterday. I had not had a hair cut for a long time, and was beginning to look like the guy from the Centre fresh advertisement (No, Not exactly like that... I believe I am better looking). But, i hope you get the point.


The hair had grown too long and it was time to make another sacrifice at the altar, where all people,without exceptions, bow their heads at least once in their life time. I entered the shop and was being guided into the Non-A/C section, when, at the last moment, another guy asked me to step into the A/C section. As I was feeling the cool atmosphere inside the chamber of hair cuts, my eyes registered a familiar face, but, my mind pre occupied with other thoughts let it go by. It however did a double-take when it realised it was the Boss. There was an awkward moment when his eyes met mine,and, me being somewhat of a social recluse, couldn't muster any proper greetings. Somehow my lips curled upwards into what i thought was a smile, and as i took the seat proffered to me, managed a "Good Evening sir". I believe those three words did some magic, as the Boss gave me a wide smile and all was well with the world. A few minutes later, he finished with his hair cut and still beaming made an exit, leaving me wondering whether I could have come up with anything intelligent to discuss with him? Talking with Swathi a few minutes later over the telephone, I realised how good a communicator she is. I guess she would have brought the house down with a constant banter if she was ever in my situation.

Manipal Gets An Awesome Light and Sound Show

Well as you can see from the picture above, I am not talking about the artificial man-made sound and light shows that are in vogue today. The only Light and sound show you get in Manipal, is, what the Pre Monsoon showers bring with them. There is an amazing display of Lightning bolts from the sky above followed by a deep rumbling and a thunderclap so loud, that the very ground beneath your feet starts to tremble. I for one have always been very frightened by these experiences since my early childhood and last night was no exception.

I had just finished watching the movie, Marley and Me, when the lights went out and there was the beginning of the show outside. I cowered inside my home and every peek outside heightened my fear of impending doom. The worst part was that there was a dog next door , which began howling away. It reminded me of Marley from the movie, however, in this case, it was bed time for me and it was not my dog!! I felt like i was in one of those B Grade Tulsi Ramsay movies like Chudail ka badla !!!

Beach Trip - Kaup

Kaup (pronounced KAPU) is a small village located about 20 Kms from Udupi on the National highway 17 towards Mangalore. On 15 th March, a Sunday, my colleagues at the Department of Pharmacology, KMC, Manipal, invited me to come along on a beach trip to Kaup. To be honest, even though I have spent two years now in Manipal, I hadn't visited the place, though I had been to the Malpe Beach.

So at around 4 P.M. Swathi and I set out on our Honda Activa for the beach. Near the Sharada Kalyana Mantapa, we joined my colleagues, who were on a Maruti Omni. We asked them to lead the way as I had never been to the place. The drive was pleasant and we reached the beach at about 4 30.

The beach at Kaup is cleaner than the one at Malpe. Probably because there are fewer visitors and tourists. The water appeared to be cleaner and was more appealing than at Malpe. The Kaup beach also houses a Light house, entry to which is permitted between 9 am and 6 pm. The climb up the light house is quite exhausting if like me you are not fit enough. Swathi was completely exhausted half way through, but somehow made it to the top.

The view from the top of the Light house is worth the climb. On one side the vast blue-green sea and on the other side the western ghats and greenery. One of the lighthouse personnel pointed out that we can also see our University town - Manipal from atop the lighthouse.

Unfortunately we were not allowed to take pictures inside the lighthouse, but, the winding stairs looked nice.

We had a lot of fun at the beach and returned late in the evening. It was quite an exhausting trip.