Weekend Ramblings

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THE WEEKEND RAMBLINGS
One of the advantages of living in Kerala-- apart from creative ways in which people choose to go on strike-is the beautiful palm fringed beaches that run miles on end.
Tucked away from main tourist path lies a pristine white sand beach and an ancient Shipping port-Azhikode at times referred to as Kodungallur. Town of kodungallur about 200 years back was perhaps the most important port on the Malabar Coast. Local kings fought to retain hold of this port town. It is not difficult to see why! The Periyar flows into the Arabian Sea; the confluence provided a safe haven for the ships and enabled the merchants to transport goods by the river deep into spice regions of Kerala.

For this port the days of glory are long over. Along with the ebb and fall of the history this ancient town lost the ancient shipping business to Kochi. A fishing village about 30 K.M away: kochi suddenly appeared on the maritime map when the river flooded & breached the shores to join the Arabian sea. The thin strip of water connecting the sea was dredged and ship found entrance from the sea into a well sheltered inland harbor. History bestowed nearby area the name Fort Kochi. Cochin from there on kept gaining in importance to become a city of some standing today.
These days, proud ancient port of Azhikode is a fishing village. The beach is regularly dwelled by a popular lunatic on workdays (See the pic not hard to find him) and on weekends he gets to share the beach with me. Last time we stumbled across each other he greeted me with a smile usually reserved for a long lost friend!
This time around I really did manage to convince him that I was only some degrees below him. I never came prepared to have a dip in the sea. But seeing the beach deserted for miles I fell into the divers’ temptation. With no clothes to spare I divided splikooooooooooooom into the Sea imagenry competition with malika sherawat! At a distance I could see a thin smile spread on the face of my friend…and his eyes were seeing a kindred sprit and I am sure he was saying to himself …he is gone mad!

Sunday evening’s people make a beeline for the beach. You look around you will find all kind of diverse assortment. Middle class, upper class fashionably dressed, full headed or barren headed recent health freaks knocking on the doors of heaven. They are all there...doing what? Simply staring into the sea! Why do we like to sit in dirt and stare into vast stretches of water? Perhaps what holds us is a sense of wonder. That child like amazement of coming upon something that we cant explain. The depth width and majesty of ocean hold us enthralled and captivated like a child in a theme park. Perhaps to find meaning in life we need to be in a state of perpetual wonder. If a simple ocean could hold us captive I wonder what it would be in the awesome presence of God. Perhaps the beauty of our lives begins with Old Man up There. We need to fall in love with Him!

This weekend it was exciting once more to watch Brahmni Kite after ten years. Brown bird with white throat and breast, it flaps about in lazy arcs till they become tighter and tighter. A highly adaptive bird it as much as home near the coastline as much as the interior Western Ghats and Deccan plateau. What puzzles me is the reaction of crows to these intelligent birds. The moment they spot a brahminy they soar up to meet it, trailing; they put up a dizzying display of aerial acrobatics. Trying to imitate every move the brahminy makes. They end up only looking stupid. Crows are extremely intelligent too but there are something’s in life that simply make us crazy.

I have no clue as to why my fish catch is dropping. This weekend was depressing. I have changed my bait, the thickness of the line used fly hooks and everything fishing manual would recommend for a great catch. Still the only fishes I get are those preparing for a miss world. Thin, bonny and good for nothing!
My friend Anthony lives in the nearby village ( see the pic above). Unlike me he comes to fish with no fancy Korean telescoping rods and fishing sundries. The whole affair is a simple nylon line attached to hook. At the end of the day he walks back with bigger catch! There is one crucial difference why he nets more, and I don’t…for him it’s a necessity for me a hobby.


Weekdays are usually no different! I share Techwyse office with equally insane guys( perhaps I am the worst) like the lunatic on the beach.

Who Am I?

Am I then really all that which other men tell of?

Or am I only what I myself know of myself?

Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,

Struggling for breath, as though hands were

compressing my throat,

Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,

Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,

Tossing in expectation of great events,

Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,

Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,

Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?



Who am I? This or the other?

Am I one person today and tomorrow another?

Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,

And before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?

Or is something within me still like a beaten army,

Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.

Whoever I am, Thou knowest, 0 God, I am Thine!

Not Exactly a Humour Piece But Still Provides A Morsel Of Thought. Let The Comments Flow...

BOARD GAMES: WHY THEY ARE MAKING A COMEBACK

My 1986 summer holiday was spent, much to my delight, playing innumerable rounds of Ludo, Carom, and chess with my grandmother prior to her death. She was fiercely competitive and much to our dismay played by her own set of rules. At caroms this translated into the dreaded “back shot.” Pieces to be slotted on the rebound became victims of her direct attack. At this, my 9 year old sister would loose her cool, get upset, and stomp out feeling cheated. Rules are not just important but also inflexible to an 8 or 9 year old, partly because they are proud of their ability to understand and follow them. The accompanying moral outrage at a sibling bending the rules is no show.
Looking back now, the joyful hours at the board games prepared us for the world of adults. They taught us, to play by the rules, instilled confidence when we won, accept defeat graciously, be magnanimous to a learner and were an early lesson in competitiveness, patience and diplomacy. But the time spend with Grandma was all- important. We listened to her while we played, stories of relatives we never met, grandfather we never saw, their wedding that cost only a hundred rupees and the first days of independent India. Now to think how easily we could have missed all that if not for the sessions at the board game.
The combination of entertainment and educational value of the board games was not unfamiliar to the ancients. Among the artifacts found in the three thousand year old tomb of pharaoh Tut was a game board, dice and playing pieces. Greeks, Romans and Indians played games such as backgammon, checkers, dominos, and chess for thousands of years. Today they face a stiff competition from the computer games industry which last year surpassed Hollywood in terms of revenue. Are we witnessing the beginning of the end for once popular past-time? Will they survive the sophisticated video games where children can easily step into a persona and become their favorite WWF heroes experiencing the thrill and violence in virtual reality?

In fact we might just be witnessing a counter trend as educational institutes find more appeal than ever in board games. With a rise in bullying behaviors nationwide (related, some observers speculate, to the increase of violent themes in children's media and toys), teachers and school management are turning to board games as vehicles for children to practice collaboration and team-building, says George principal of a prestigious school in Kerala. Worldwide, as sales of 20 billion, toy industry dropped by 3% last year, the sales of board games rose by 15% according to the NPD funworld which records the toy industry retail.

Board games have ‘interactive advantage’ over the computer and video games. Unlike the computer game, the board is placed in middle of the group. Communication flows as players face each other. And this interaction results in new associations and friendships. For the holiday season, board games are not just great gifts but also icebreakers. ''They transcend generations and social groups. They're great if family members haven't seen each other in a long time," says Eric Poses, president of All Things Equal Inc., which distributes ''Loaded Questions," a board game geared for teens and older. Board games can also bring members of different generations together. Favorite memories and tales are inevitably shared, helping to pass along rich family history to the next generation

Of all the benefits board games offer to young children, from fostering fine motor skills to teaching shapes, colors, and turn-taking, it's the mastery of an age-appropriate challenge that prepares them for the real world, not the act of winning or losing says Kathy Roberts co-founder of ‘Teachers Resisting Unhealthy Entertainment’ which publishes an annual toy list at truceteacher.org. “You know why children want to play the same game over and over?" she asks. ''It's because repetition gives them mastery, mastery gives them confidence, and confidence gives them the boost to take on the next challenge." Elementary-age children become better able to handle winning and losing, but even then, says Roberts, it's the idea of the challenge that moves them forward. Games like Chess or Checkers or even Solitaire are appealing at these ages because children like to push themselves to a personal best, she says. Many board games can be played with that as a goal, instead of winning. And the players who finish first eventually get around to helping others. Lest we forget, board games also generate good feelings. ''The shared experience of having fun together can create a sense of satisfaction and good will that bubbles over into the next activity," says Roberts.

Playing games with children not only helps them learn, but it can help parents learn a lot about their kids. Parents can assess skill development-such as color, shape and letter recognition-as well as social development like competitiveness, patience, and diplomacy. Along with interacting with their children and grandchildren, there is a further need for the adults to be playing the board games. The June, 2005 edition of a popular magazine reported “people suffering from minor memory problems can be helped by cognitive drills or a few simple practices” and stated “puzzles and games are a useful way to keep the mind agile and the memory strong.”

The recently conducted survey reveals an alarming trend eighty-four percent of all teenagers in cities play video games, and they usually play them for an hour on average. Amazingly, ninety percent of teenagers claim that their parents do not check the appropriate age-level rating before allowing them to rent or buy a game. Unfortunately, eighty-nine percent of teenagers say that their parents have never regulated the time they spend playing the video games. It is easy to see the influence that video games have on our youth with problem ranging from ‘computer addiction’ and becoming ‘desensitized’ to immoral activities. It is time for the board games to appear in a new avatar such as the game ‘Trivial Pursuit.’ a run away hit in 80’s and now enjoying soaring popularity in states after 9/11. Games like ‘Trivial pursuit’ and ‘Candy Land’ are popular across age group because not only are they entertaining but also test knowledge and make one think.

High time we dusted the old boards brought out the pieces and had whale of a time with the family.

Nitin C

Travails In A KSRTC Bus

TRAVAILS IN A KSRTC BUS



‘Looks can be deceptive’ I realized this in extreme discomfort five hundred meters or so above the sea level amidst grandeur of the Western Ghats. Not in a religious place did the truth dawn upon me rather in second row of a KSRTC bus driven by a psychopath driver determined to get us to heaven without divine approval and appointment.

By nature I am an outdoor person and once in a while I indulge in stress busting activities like romp around the hills in pursuit of feathered friends or simply an opportunity to be wooed by the charms of nature.

But you see nothing confines a man to home like commitment to writing. Sitting at my table eyeballing crows outside the window in game of eye-tennis for months had me saying “enough is enough.”

Desperate to break free, with Western Ghats and weekend on the horizon, I headed to Cochin bus station at nine without any plan. Drunks and citizens of the night stood outside the margin of light and passengers under a solitary halogen lamp that remained lit with a consistency of fairy lights on a Christmas-tree.

Finally, finally! Heavens hear my prayer. There are rumors of a bus to Thekkadi at ten. And behold--half past ten a beat-up bus appears; I can scarcely believe that it can run; mountains are nigh out of the possibility.

The sight of the bus has an amazing effect on the group of sleepy passengers. Enthusiasm to grab seats ignites the fuse and there is mini Mahabharata at the narrow entrance. All civility is discarded as the mass erupts, kicks, punches and shoves all accompanied to a sound track of choicest Malayalam four-letter words: synthesized with some amazing groans, grunts and moans. When an ample lady stuck in the narrow entrance dams up the human flashflood, situation gets rapidly out of hand.

I rather not describe her plight as her meaty back becomes everything from a dart board to a punching bag. I stand in the safety of no-mans-land a meter away from the churning human mob, suitcase in my hand and no chance to squeak through! When I finally get in and find a vacant seat I am surrounded by sweaty faces of bruised warriors in sheepish grins—there are seats aplenty and such savagery was rather unnecessary.

Conductor strikes the bell; bus shudders & awakens to ding-ding. It is quite late and I am concerned as I catch the driver yawn yet again from my seat, second from him on the other side. It’s the last bus on the route, it screeches to halt every 15 minutes or so and collects a new batch of merry drunks hanging to the last strand of sanity. An hour into the journey bus is packed like a brick. Arguments flare up here and there as the drunks bargain over the price of ticket or discuss when the bus will reach Cochin!

Little normalcy and fresh air return when ‘comrades of the bottle’ have been offloaded, some a good trekking distance of twenty five kilometers or so from their stop and others in entirely different district. However there are a few left. Half past twelve, people are still standing and the endurance of even the best drains.

The road is level, traffic sparse, wheels hum on the tarmac, and I am eager to see how this aluminum canister contraption called bus will negotiate the Ghat roads. A powerful urge to sleep runs through the length of bus. Under its spell people standing begin to sprawl on the floor and every sq centimeter of area becomes the most valuable real estate in the world. In deep slumber limbs seek for that extra bit of space, and mistakenly wander into neighbors not so pleasant areas. Result? Not so pleasant exchange and some rearguard action.

As we approach the mountains, window curtains shield us from the nippy December air and nearness to a human body is a comfort. I think, I am lucky to be sharing a seat meant for one and a half people with a person given to practicing martial arts in his sleep. There is nothing laidback about the seats though, they are designed no doubt for the ultimate travel experience which includes a backrest at an acute eighty five degrees. Driver coaxes the bus up the steep road; engine protests and sputters, metallic din shatters fills the air. Thick black smoke trails the bus like a moon-bound rocket.

Turns are sharp and I hold on to the seats with all I have. Another turn and to my horror, suitcase ejects from the rack above and lands with a crash between the legs of terrified but thankful young man. Road writhes like a snake. There is no better place to keep the suitcase so it goes where it was, every turn, I plop it back with my left hand while with other I regain balance.

The Bharthnatyam continues as I anticipate every turn. Suddenly! In the inky blackness pierced by the head light, road ahead is almost vertical. Bus claws itself to the top.

Once there our pot bellied Tom Cruise leans forward yanks at the gear and goes into dervish frenzy, as if seated behind a F16. Black smile lighting an even darker face, throws the god dammed thing into a maniacal plunge. The bus screams like a banshee and goes into a dive, shedding nuts and bolts like dandruff. Humanity inside is treated with same disrespect that is generally reserved for food matter inside a stomach afflicted with an urge to go often to restroom. As the speed builds-up Tandav replaces Bharathnatyam.

World erupts! Is it apocalypse of cataclysm? Am I journeying to hell or heaven? Questions…confusion…vrahhhhhhhhhhhh bus screams, shoes, sleeper, hair, bags, and a set of dentures mate shamelessly. khad…khad..khad…kata gears rattle into place. Aiyoooooooooooooo screams a horrified ammatchi struggling to keep her soul and body together. A wasted piece of humanity, a remnant drunk sails past like an astronaut on a space walk. I taste death through the night. I hover between the land of living and the dead. I see my future and the past. I become a sinner and a saint. I become a believer and a skeptic all in the second seat of a modest KSRTC bus. I finally concede that a vehicle is only as good as the driver and our heavy weight Tom cruise is the Top Gun among bus handlers.

Like all noble people I too search for some positives in a tribulation. And it is a great reassurance to know that something’s in life are stable and unmoved, unaffected by the circumstances around them. On the cold windswept Western Ghats that fateful night when the bus threatened to fall apart and all mayhem broke loose. Only source of great comfort was the speedometer needle which through the six hour ordeal lay contently at zero.

© Nitin Joseph