Chinna Saroja, Golu and Death
Written by Dilip Muralidaran on September 27, 2009 – 7:28 pm -Death is a great equalizer. I do not have great memories of everyone i’ve met in life but some people stood out. They stood out because they were the different ones. Some called them weird, some called them unfortunate and some called them fools. I call them victims of culture based off religious ideologies. The example i will present is a fantastic specimen.
When you live in a Brahmin community you are never short of women named “Saroja” around you. Its one of those famous brahmin names along with “Baby”. Chinna Saroja (Chinna means Little in tamil) was a famous character from my childhood days. She and her husband were a unique couple. I guess i think his name was Kutti Raman (Kutti means small in tamil) but i really don’t remember it that well. Her husband was the silent one like teller in the Penn and Teller show. Chinna saroja ran the show pretty much and her husband nodded, always.
Chinna Saroja and her Husband were distant relatives. They were quite rich, or rather used to be. They had it all. You can imagine them to be one of the differently rich landlord Brahmin family types. They had business, they had acres of land, farms and pretty much everything going for them in life with the exception of children. They did everything they could in this world to have children. Every doctor money could buy and every type of medication.
Of course, they did perform every pooja for all the hindu gods in the text books and off the text books. I say off the text books because a nun and a father in the lourdes church conned them and made some money claiming jesus was a hindu god and he could help with child birth. So did a gentleman from the venus mosque claim some islamic fairy to be lord ayyappans daughter and made a quick buck. My grandfather put an end to these things with the help of a few other people and of course the cops and i will reserve that incident for another very long blog post. Nevertheless, they had no children.
Saroja and her husband adopted. I really love it now to think of the fact that they were liberal enough to go to an orphanage and adopt a random child. Folks from my community / family pestered them to adopt a “Brahmin” child so that i is not subject to the thought processes of a “non brahmin” child. Many a poor family had even tried to sell them a child one could not raise due to poverty. Nevertheless, they adopted a “non brahmin” child, not one but five. The children were happy. Of course they adopted into the ways of a brahmin family system as well. They were vegetarians, spoke the brahmin accent of tamil and one could hardly recognize them if not told.
Once the children grew up they returned the favour. They drugged their parents and made them write off all the property they had to these five adopted children. With mother-loads of money in their wallet the children split and fled in different directions except one. He lived in the same house as their parents brought them up. This son was the kindest of all. He did not throw the parents on the streets like one would expect. He made them household servants instead. They did all the cooking, washing and cleaning and in return were fed 3 square meals a day, without any pay or benefits.
Saroja reminds me not because of her painful state of life but because how she made merry for everyone by making fun of herself. Every year during Golu, she would go around homes in town visiting the Golu setup. As customary as it is, she would sing. Everyone loved it, not because she was fantastic a singer but she was horrible a singer yet nothing or no one stopped her. I explicitly remember the same song she sang year after year. It went something like…
“Gundu Saroja, Baby Saroja, Kulla Saroja, Chinna Saroja…”
Those were the chorus lines. It basically meant “Fatty Saroja, Childlike Saroja, Short Saroja, Small Saroja”, it was a tamil song. Her own composition, apparently. You cannot forget that face because it resembled exactly like that of this Chettichi doll in this image. Unlike today’s women even in their late 60’s, back then women did not shave, they did not use lazer or wax their lips, skin etc., Turmeric was the only option used on the face to prevent hair growth. The yellow of turmeric made her mild moustache stand out blonde and it would look so funny we kids exploded into laughter the moment we saw her. All the kids would gather around in my house from our street when she comes over for Golu.
She would take the small amount of money, the blouse bit (clothing to stitch a blouse) and the fruits and other things that were given when you visit ones house for Golu. Saroja lived her life for Golu, if you asked me. She had her moments, and it was clearly meant for those famous lines of her multi platinum local number sung at Golu, every year.
She passed away one fine day in sleep. Her husband was even more broke when she was no more. He came one fine day and said he was starving and his daughter in law feeds him no more. My aunt and my mother used to take pity on him and feed him lunch everyday. He would sit at the verandah and eat food out of a banana leaf. The hunger of a man 80 odd year old man who has not eaten for a whole day will show. I felt bad for him.
One fine day he came and he presented a neat “Pallanguzhi” instrument made of teak wood. It was a famous game back then before ludo and trump cards defeated old board games. He wanted to sell it and my aunt brought it for Rs. 20 from him. That was the last we saw of him. A few days later we heard he died during sleep on the pavements, right outside his house. Thaththa (Grandpa) went to the burial ground and offered his “vaaykkarisi” (dropping grains of rice on the dead persons mouth before setting on fire) before he was cremated.
I don’t believe in celebrating religious festivals or practices. I somehow was reminded of Chinna Saroja looking at the doll in my house Golu today. I think i will change my mind and make an exception. I will celebrate Saroja, her husband and their life history. I hope there are other people who remember them today. I really hope…
Tags: Bhommai, Chettiar, Chettichi, childhood, Golu, Kolu, Real Life Story, short story, tragedy
Posted in daily life, happenings, india, personal, short story | 2 Comments »
Never Can Say Goodbye!
Written by Dilip Muralidaran on August 29, 2009 – 7:10 am -The first ever Michael Jackson record i brought with my own money.
I explicitly remember this. I used to be a conservative goodie goodie god fearing south Indian iyengar brahmin boy who was nuts about English music, in particular Michael Jackson. I was quite famous for this eccentricity as well. I always used to win 1st prize in the school singing competition for Patel house team. It always was a Michael Jackson song, from 3rd grade to 10th grade. I still have all of those certificates and medals. When it came to the school correspondent’s funeral anniversary, it was always "Will you be there" which was the last song of the event, your guess is as good as mine as to who sang it.
I remember Michael Jackson’s history. I already had "Off the Wall", "Thriller", "Bad" and "Dangerous" on tape. I used to beg each and every cousin visiting and put up a scene, not eat food, study straight through the night to score good marks in school tests. All for that one cassette which costs Rs. 150 every 5 - 7 years when MJ releases an album. In 1995 however the scene was different. My dad’s company was liquidated and shamefully we found it hard to manage one square meal a day after me, my brother and my cousin devoured all the little family money in the name of school fees.
Grandpa did not have the usual Re. 1 he used to give me as pocket money. His pension of Rs. 350 a month was not enough to buy rations at home. That does not stop me from laying my hands on this beauty now does it? I found work. I used to pack worms in a aquarium after school for 2 hours a day. My family never knew any of this, not to this moment. I used to get paid Rs. 4 every day. I waited. The very thought of touching those worms used to make me puke everyday when I used to have dinner. I skipped meals, I suffered but it was worth the effort.
I managed Rs. 250 and I took 29 C from perambur to Gemini Flyover. Spencer Plaza was about 6 - 7 kilometers from Gemini Flyover, I think. I did not have money after spending Rs. 3 on bus ticket since the cassette was a double pack. It must cost more than Rs. 150, I knew. I decided to walk. I walked, I was almost out of breath by the time I crawled my way inside Music World. The manager knew instantly at my sight what I wanted. He asked me to wait. I did, for 3 hours. It was about 1 pm when a carton labeled "EPIC/SONY" arrived and they stashed out the cassettes on the racks. Like a hyena pouncing on a carcass I jumped on the rack, despite no one being there since it was a Monday morning. I paid Rs. 250 and I happily rushed to buy several packets of mineral water and some bovonto to put off the fire that was burning inside all of me and of course, get rid off that dehydration.
I came home, took out the AIWA walkman I had sneaked out of my dads locker the earlier night and I plugged in. What happened next was nothing short of 15 amps of electricity flow through you the next half of the day.
Every year on the midnight of the 29th of August I play "Man in the Mirror" to remind myself it all starts and ends with myself. The good, the bad and the ugly. Today is the first time in my life I will play Man in the Mirror without the man who made it all possible.
Today is a day to remember, a day to cherish this man and to thank him for his gift that has changed things for me and many people that words cannot tell. If you feel it, then be here.
Meanwhile, Happy Birthday. King of Pop!
Tags: Michael Jackson; King of Pop; History Album Casette; Tape; Personal; Childhood; Events;
Posted in emotions, happenings, incident, short story | 2 Comments »
For the Pill that lived in Pain…
Written by Dilip Muralidaran on June 27, 2009 – 5:44 pm -
If Michael Jackson was wine, he would possibly be by far the best wine i would have ever tasted in my entire lifetime. I’ve always had this connectivity when Michael speaks out, especially about his childhood and about the children of the world. I think we share a common thread, in the sense that like his, my childhood was not a normal one. Being left out is no fun, especially when your friends are out there playing in the field and you have to sit and watch or see kids around you do all sorts of wonderful things… hiking, cycling, scout, NSS.. you name it. If you even suggest you want to attempt such things, you get laughed at and your capabilities constantly question everyday. It’s not easy, i can tell you that for sure.
Michael Jackson was a pill, a pain killer perhaps. When you turn on thriller and listen to “Beat It” you know you just gotta beat it if you wanna stay alive. You live by the words and with the music. You know you have to “Keep the Faith” no matter what comes your way and if something needs to change for the better it needs to start with the “Man in the Mirror”.
Often his love for other people and others problems will leave you “Speechless” quite literally, that’s Michael Jackson to me. When every time i wanted to jump off a railway track on to an oncoming train and end it all somewhere, something that i heard last night on tape would stop you from irrationality and make you keep going no matter what.
Of course If you are just pissed off and want to find out “Why you wanna trip on me” or just “Scream” and say “They don’t really care about us” when the whole system comes crashing on you, you could always say “Leave me alone” and get out of it. A song for everything, every emotion, every situation, every moment of your life.. its all a song. That’s Michael Jackson. Of course there is this perfectionist and this performer in him like no other. When you watch a young African-American from the most lowest sections of the society grown up on stage and become the biggest phenomenon in the entertainment industry, having someone like that as your role model never hurts. I think its one of the possible factors of my success today, i’ve looked up to people who were born genius and i’ve tried to do achieve what they tried to in my own way. Of course i’ve failed miserably many a times but its never made me stop trying and i guess i’ve at least gotten somewhere.
Today is possibly by far the most bitter day in my life since my grand fathers death. Words fail me when i try tell how much of a personal loss it is to see the most inspiring personality of your life, the biggest motivational factor you ever had pass away. I’ve been so busy onsite with a client i did not read the news or check twitter. When a friend messaged me i was irritated, trust me i’ve heard atleast 500 such “Michael Jackson is dead” hoax messages. Unfortunately, today was bitter reality.
I know i will pick myself up, lick my wounds and move on.. life moves on but life is never going to be the same again. I would just like to say Michael Jackson was the most significant and the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me. Life is a compromise, i’m never going to meet the idol i admired for all these years. This is not the first compromise i’m making though but its possibly the most painful one.
You will be missed Michael, i’m sure everytime i see cheap acts imitate you on screen or some punk rips off your music back here in india, your memory will never die in me and the millions of others that you’ve touched in a way words fail to explain.
Tags: condolence, funeral, Michael Jackson, mourning, tribute
Posted in crib, emotions, happenings, incident, personal, story, world affairs | 2 Comments »
Brahmin Bastards? Thank you Indian Politics.
Written by Dilip Muralidaran on April 25, 2009 – 8:42 pm -Attended a Wedding of a close friends sister. Anglo-Indian Wedding, had much fun. Drank wine, ate cake, good food. What more does one want in life?
Of course met two of my friends from my first job whom i’ve not seen for ages. All 4 of us i.e., my friend [friend#3] (who’s sister was getting married) then my other two friends and myself were standing in the queue to meet the couple, wish them and leave for food.
General vetty discussion goes on. Suddenly discussion is like between the 3 of them. What was i doing? As usual gaping at the colorful disco lights & regretting why i did not bring my camera. So the conversation is like…
Friend#1: “Fuck this dude, once upon a time Anglo-Indians used to be respected like shit man!”
Friend#2: Yeah man, every where i see i could only see Anglo-Indians. Nowadays though its so hard to spot an Anglo-Indian.
(I’m stupified by how everyone wants to see people from their community all over the place and if they don’t they feel victimized and offended, sigh!)
Friend#1: Yeah man, all because of these Brahmin bastards (or i heard bitches?)
…uncomfortable silence from all 3 and i jump into the scene…
I try to lighten up the situation.
Me: Guys, i just heard Brahmin, i was not sure if it was bitches or whores? Nevertheless, im an atheist mother fucker. Why do i even give a fuck.
Friend#3: Sorry dude, no offense meant.
Friend#2: Yeah dude, Varun Gandhi is a fucking dick head.
Friend#1: Yeah man, BJP sucks. Congress is secular given any day compared to anyone.
Me: Yes, the congress is just as secular as much as im gonna pull a monkey out of my ass now. 
***laughs out from all, we shift topic to hot women on the dance floor***
I don’t know why i felt to post this. In fact after typing so much i feel this post has no direction except the fact that im once again realizing, we as indians are so fucking divided. I have this feeling that we shall never come together and we shall never move forward. My doubts are being re-assured when i go out of india and see how people are committed to the law and order situation and how sincere they are in what they do.
Fuck all Brahmins, yes they are bastards. They rode on the sudhra’s ass for 1000’s of years brutally, bitches. No questions when it comes to that but then was it only the Brahmins who did that? What about the portugese slaughter of brahmins in the olden days, what about the massacre of sikhs across this nation when indira gandhi was killed, what about the genocide of pundits in kashmir?
I’m extremely disappointed today, that’s all i can say. We’re divided and we’re divided like hell and there ain’t no fixing this shit if people don’t start using some common sense. I’m very very disappointed. Christians hate brahmins, Muslims Hate Brahmins, Hindu non brahmins hate brahmins and what about brahmins?
Brahmins hate everybody..
Tags: anglo-indian, brahmins, conversation, religious bullshit, talk, Wedding
Posted in country, crib, daily life, happenings, incident, opinion, personal, rantings | 69 Comments »
A handbook of exceptional quick lies
Written by Dilip Muralidaran on October 15, 2008 – 7:37 pm -Yes, exclusively for the Indian family as well. Are you anything post 13 and below 30? Are you Single? Are you the one who happens to have girl friends? Are you the one that happens to be from a conservative tambram, catholic or muslim family? Do you find it painful to find explanations everytime you step out of the house?
Well if you have been answering yes to atleast 2 of the above questions then you are in deep shit?
Does it take impossible amounts of convincing to get your girl friend out of the house and in the last minute she banks out and excuse’s herself "parents won’t allow me to go out in weekends" sort of unbelievable shit!
Well wonder no more. The answers to your prayers are right here. I shall soon come up with a paperback book called "A handbook of exceptional quick lies". 20000 right lies you can fling right out of your pocket and not only get out of your house post 7 PM. Not only that, this WILL get your girl friends out too! Yes, its true and its time tested and it hardly fails.
For example, you plan a night show movie with a gang of friends at work. Living in chennai or any city for that matter you know how hard it is to get evening show or matinee tickets. Now your gal friends wont come out of the home because anything post 7 PM is taboo.
Well here is the deal. Call your girl friends Landline number. As always her dad, the bloody villain will pick up the phone. Now quickly tell her dad "Hello uncle, how are you? I’m fine. I could not reach sheetals mobile so called the land line. Can you take a message?"
At this point of time the curious bastard will be more than happy to know what the hell you are going to tell his beautiful daughter. Now comes your nuke…
"Please ask sheetal to get the Black Mamba Project report for the meeting with Vice president we have tonight at 9 AM PST"
Now her dad is like "What meeting? She never told me?"
"Oh yes uncle, we have a performance review meeting and our team has won the award for the best performance for this quarter. We may probably get a pay hike if we impress the VP in the meeting with our presentation and sheetal has done all the ground work."
Two things. Daughter will probably get a pay hike, daughter may get an award. This sucker will do anything to get his daughter to go to office.
Infact you can also use this opportunity to go pick up your girl friend from her house since it will be late in the night.
Imagine this, 8 pm pick-up from home. Dinner + movie at 10.45 pm and then go clubbing at 3 AM after the movie and back home by 6 am next morning.
The only small downside is you need to wear formal clothes when you start out of the house. That’s okay. We are all used to carrying different set of clothes and changing in the restroom. Women are experts at this and you can take advise from your girl friend.
This is just ONE EXAMPLE, one of the more inefficient ways to get the girl friend out and you out of the house. Imagine how the super efficient ones that are available only when you buy the book, would sound like. Buy my book and you have 19,999 more of this wonderful treasure of knowledge.
So hang tight and watch this space. Arriving in a blog near you….
As for NRI folks, dont worry. Amazon deals are underway to sell atleast 87 million copies in the USA and Europe alone.
Bookmark:
Posted in comedy, daily life, friends, funny, happenings, idea, india, short story, story | No Comments »
An Autobiography on short stories…
Written by Dilip Muralidaran on September 15, 2008 – 3:02 am -I’ve been watching a long lost friend of mine from my previous workplace on facebook from the recent past. It’s been such a pleasure and awesome experience looking at someones life through images from 1000’s of kilometres away.
Combing that thought with the fact that i now have a post arthritic condition and the quality of my life and the certainty of being independent is at great risk i felt that i should document my life more effectively. I don’t really know why, perhaps im every bit of that attention freak or perhaps i want to leave my mark and i realize i haven’t really made much difference till date.
Starting today, i will try and post atleast one short story every week or more than one. This will be either from a first person point of view or from a author’s narrative point of view. I’m not really aiming for factual accuracy here much but i hope im correct on the incidents by atleast 90% of the time. What i attempt to do here will be to recollect snapshots of my childhood, from the earliest known times that i remember myself as an existing individual on planet earth and then go on with short stories and incidents and events in my life.
I will post these under the title #5, Sankara Madam St., which is the address of my old house, where i grew up and lived till about 21.
All person’s, events and facts gathered under this posting label are true and accurate to the best of my knowledge. Names shall not be changed, events shall not be toned down or pepped up to either sound acceptable.
So without further adieu, the first chapter will be up tomorrow. As for the intro, watch out for the next post.
Posted in #5 Sankara Madam St., autobiography, happenings, personal, short story | 1 Comment »
Meat Stuff…
Written by Dilip Muralidaran on September 3, 2008 – 1:07 am -The following Conversation took place over SMS, 3 minutes ago! I still have not got up ROFL… damn.. sometimes, predictive text kicks ass on mobile phones..
Friend: Hey, remember that boy who came to see me last weekend, i’ve said yes to him. Just waiting for him to reply.
Me: Oh, Meat Stuff (yikes!)
Me: Neat Stuff, i meant…..
hears a grr at a distant direction, switches of cell phone and hides behind blanket and tries to sleep it off…..
Posted in comedy, daily life, funny, happenings, incident, personal, story | 2 Comments »
Painless…
Written by Dilip Muralidaran on August 26, 2008 – 1:25 am -2 large vodka’s in the head, an enya love song in the ears… small specks of happiness life has to offer, priceless!
Posted in daily life, funny, happenings, incident, opinion, personal | No Comments »
Wedding Woes…
Written by Dilip Muralidaran on August 16, 2008 – 7:10 pm -One of my Aunt married a Muslim and obviously converted due to the very reason. I was invited to this wedding of her son and believe me, i was excited like hell. I’ve never been to a Muslim wedding before and this was my first time. I aspired to acquaint myself with my aunts in laws, get to know them more and hang out with them more since i’ve never done that all of these years during my childhood and i decided its time to set the record straight.
Coming from a typical Hindu Brahmin family, although there was not any opposition to this wedding of my aunt to her muslim boyfriend in a way the family ties were kind of loosened and broken and none of us family guys really kept in touch with her and i felt this was my chance to set it straight. Of course when she comes over to family occasions at our house there is always a distance because of the difference in cultural aspects such as language, behavior and perspectives. I frankly did not like this much but never did much to change things until now.
I pack my gear and im 2 hours early for the wedding and im thinking im gonna have a great time. Little did i know that i was going to be the biggest fool of all times sitting here like duck to witness sexism, male chauvinism and trade in the name of a wedding go on right in front of my eyes while i could not find the nerve to say nothing or do nothing in the situation.
The wedding hall was very small and all the men were lodged in the ground floor where the wedding ceremony took place and guess what? All the women were debarred from staying downstairs and sent to the first floor, including the Bride whom i never got to meet in this entire agenda of the wedding. The grooms father paid a sum of "13 grams of gold" and purchased the bride for his son, the groom. The agreement or the contract of the wedding was signed and everybody went to dig into the food like it was nobody’s business.
I ask this guy who looked like a politician, about the bride and he said that the wedding was over and the bride will be seeing the guests in the evening at the reception where she will be together with the groom. It strikes me as the most inhumane and barbaric act of sexism on a woman, in the 21st century that based on some book a pedophile wrote 100’s of years back you don’t even look at the fact that there is someone important uninvited into the wedding, let me correct that. "Her Wedding", the bride!
While being repeatedly preached about the importance of gender equality in an Anglo Indian school for 12 years, running around a 2 day occasion of the bride and groom doing various religious stuff at a Hindu wedding and the mutual consent at a Christian Anglo Indian weddings that i’ve been to i frankly find not having a person who is getting married not to be during the wedding process so unacceptable and sadistic in nature.
Today while i finally mustered up the courage to post these pictures and write these words from my head, i admit that im afraid of such people. The world Islamaphobia as i realize is not some cooked up stuff by the liberals, it exists very well in real life and there is ample evidence for it and i feel it first hand.
Posted in crib, daily life, debate, dogma, happenings, human rights voilation, islam, questions | 13 Comments »
A few good men…
Written by Dilip Muralidaran on July 31, 2008 – 12:27 am -
These folks were around the munusami temple under the tree in the NH45 road. We had wiling models for some portraiture and had a lot of fun. The most interesting thing about village people is that they will readily talk politics and you can call anyone an ass and get away with it.
We were talking about whom to vote for this election in the state of Tamilnadu and who would probably win and who would go to jail after winning etc., Gayathri was scared of all this talk and was screaming that someone is going to get killed and be on the 7 o clock news with all this political trashing talk. The fact of the matter is I love to do this every time I’m around villagers. There is an awesome thrill in it, in getting to hear their perspective of things.
You can have everything you want here in the city but there is nothing more charismatic to the adrenaline pumping arguments and reasoning of a villager on some random politician or the government. 3 large grey goose on the rocks cant buy this thrill, I can tell you that for sure.
Of course, this time Ashwin decided he needs to take a pic with these amazing guys. On second thoughts i guess i should have gotten a pic too but then ashwin will agree with me if say that we will drive to this place again just for shooting portraits of these folks.
Canon EOS 400D with the Canon EF 50MM F/1.4 USM. Aperture Priority, F/11 at 1/30th of a second.
Posted in comedy, country, daily life, friends, funny, happenings, india, politics, street photography, world affairs | 2 Comments »