View from the Sidelines

SPB’s death has caused immense grief. When Steve Jobs died, his step sister Mona Simpson said, “We all die medias res—in the middle of a story.” What makes SPB’s passing an inconsolable mourning is that he died in the middle of a beautiful melody—in the midst of a music career that would have gone on and on. The philosophy that life on this earth is not permanent seems to offer solace. Some stalwarts push us into a delusion of immortality. And we thought SPB could never die. He was hearty, radiated warmth and remained jolly good. Ageing never seemed to have happened to him. His voice still generated awe and even at 74, he was amenable to music. That’s surely a rare gift that God bestowed on him. But slightly probing to see the effortless ease with which he went about his art, he made it possible only by winning over all the ordeal he had to endure—multiple surgeries on this vocal cord, bariatric surgery, and numerous ailments that kept coming to him, small and inconsequential. God had given him another gift that his voice was not cracked by any surgery. He kept making remarkable recoveries and comebacks. He was able to preserve his voice through time and multiple strains. But it was also a gift for which he didn’t do anything special for his voice. The deadly coronavirus finally infected him, snatching him away from us, and perhaps that was one time he rather gave in to the illness against his will.

SPB’s personality remains surreal as how someone can lower himself to such remarkably humble levels. Vinayam is one way to greatness and it was a so natural part of him. He was no doubt a phenomenal talent, evident by his five-decade-long career in music. He traversed the careers of genius composers and lyricists and sang a mindboggling 45,000 songs in 16 languages, probably an unsurpassable achievement. His popularity is not restricted to Tamil cinema. He was equally feted in Telugu film world, where he was the Ghana Gandharva, and more appropriate as Telugu was his mother tongue. And in Kannada, he was not far behind in popularity and also gave memorable numbers in Hindi (even as the Hindi world didn’t welcome him with open arms to begin with and it is to the credit of ace director KB that he debuted in Hindi with Ek Duje Keliye). And that repertoire extends to several other languages. 

He embellished his talent with being extraordinarily human, which pulled even people on the fringe to his fan circle. Initially very outsider to his fan circle, soon I jumped in, dissolving in his melting voice that kept my company on many long nights at my desk. Maybe he was so contented with his gifts that he never saw the faulty side of humans. As Kamal Haasan said, he simply swallowed every insult and harboured no ill will. If God is love, he was all of love. His demeanour defied his impossibly tall achievements. It used to be asked of Charles Dickens if he never slept or rested that he just churned one work after another. Rarely went a day when SPB didn’t sing perhaps. His corpus of work not only shows his versatility and talent but also his dedication to work. To surpass every possible singer on earth in terms of numbers is a feat that he seemed to have achieved with felicity. Behind it lies hours of hard work and unmatched sincerity to his art. Though he created history, he didn’t receive public felicitation for his achievements. He consciously refrained from it. Maybe, if he were alive to give us 50,000 songs, he would have agreed to a felicitation. His exemplary manner kept all his genius under wraps, but can passing clouds hide the blazing sun? And his manner was as sweet as his music. Grace and humility a part of his persona that just endeared people to him. Big or small, those who knew SPB also knew his generosity of spirit and his warm way of treating others with dignity and respect.

SPB’s career started in the music world that was already filled with stalwarts of the era. If MSV and Kannadhasan combo was ruling Tamil cinema, TMS and P. Susheela were their favourite crooning pair for romantic numbers. TMS had perfected the music voice of MGR and Sivaji Ganesan. S. Janaki was another popular singer giving her nectar-filled voice to many a heroine. And then Yesudoss just had broken into this talent pool. Into this heady mix, SPB made his entry with a two-year wait after debuting in Telugu (that’s because MSV asked him to perfect his Tamizh). SPB’s first song in Tamil happened to be a non-starter for a film called Hotel Ramba, which wasn’t released. But his next two numbers (Iyarkkai Ennum Ilaya Kanni for Gemini Ganesan and Aayiram Nilave Vaa for MGR) made him a household name. After then there was no stopping him.

With no formal training in classical music, his remarkable ability to turn into a musical voice for the MGR and Sivaji generation and then for the Rajini and Kamal generation turned the tables for him. He could modulate suitably for different actors and infuse variation into his singing style to suit their personality and voice at some level. This proved to be a clincher for him right down to Vijay, Ajit and Dhanush, the fourth generation of actors in his long career. If Vaali was a permanent fixture as a lyricist in Tamil cinema until death, SPB etched his place with equal ease for also his unique ability to offer emotions inside songs. He would giggle, laugh, cough and emote all inside a song to give that ‘feel’. And his romantic interludes and modulations just made lovers seek their sweethearts by just singing his numbers. He was a constant in the musical dreams of youngsters hopelessly in love.

His camaraderie with Ilayaraja, hailed as the god of music by his fans, was special and the duo gave Tamil cinema vintage songs that still accompany many a fan on their car travel and at night. Perhaps fans still relish the memorable and melodious numbers this combination made for Mic Mohan, who shone in film world for a short time, that are inerasable by time. SPB hits composed by Ilayaraja is an indelible chapter in Tamil film music. His romantic numbers for Kamal and opening songs for Rajini were special treats to fans of both stars. He also gave musical voice to the present-day stars Ajit, Vijay and Dhanush. 

SPB just captured millions of hearts by his melting voice, another plus to his talent. And as melting was his voice, equally pleasing was his manner, which proved to be a magnet for people to get attracted to him. He propounded love of unmatched proportions. He loved life, loved people, loved music, loved everything in life. As he knew no hate, no one could hate him.

He left the world in tears more than anyone in recent memory. It looked that a day will never come when we would sing eulogies for him. For someone immortalized already by his songs, his passing is just the end of his bodily frame and pleasing manner. We would miss his live concerts where he would greet the audience with a bow and extol people who gave him life to heights of glory. His pat on the back for many upcoming talents was all the boost they needed in affirmation of their abilities. He may not be there to do all this but his songs will still float in the air waves for many many years to come and he will die only when his last standing fan would pass on, and that would be seven generations from now, as Kamal Haasan said.

Madras that is Chennai celebrates its birthday on August 22, possibly on presumption, going by what S. Muthiah, the city’s finest chronicler who left a treasure of information on the city, records in Madras Rediscovered, which has run eight editions starting from 1981. A deed was signed on behalf of John Company by Francis Day and Andrew Cogan with the local Nayak rulers in Wandiwash and Poonamalle, Venkatappa and his brother Aiyappa, and that deed is dated as July 22, 1639.

That grant is dated July 22, 1639, but since Day reached Madraspatam – the name mentioned in the grant – only on July 27th, the chances are that ‘July’ is an error and August 22, 1639, is more likely the date the East India Company acquired the land to found their settlement.

The British men were given a small strip of land (which Muthiah terms “no man’s sand”) on lease on which they established a “trading post that was in effect a warehouse-cum-residence with some fortification,” to quote Muthiah.

And the land was chosen in Madras hyped up on a lie by Francis Day that cotton cheap in Madras as Day claimed in his recommendation to his superior, Andrew Cogan. And the city—which did have a notorious scale of gossip and scandals later on due to colourful men decorating the East India Company’s services or their agents, friends, or just men from England—was ostensibly founded on a famous gossip:

Day’s own explanation for choosing this barren, sandy site was that its hinterland offered “excellent long Cloath and better cheape by 20 per cent than anywhere else”! A noted gossip of the time, however, had it that the choice was determined by Day having a mistress in Portuguese San Thomé; the nearby settlement-to-be would ensure “their Interviews might be the more frequent and uninterrupted”! Whether this was indeed the case is a matter for conjecture, but that there was a mistress appears to have been gossip with some substance; a friend and successor to the charge of Madras, Henry Greenhill, is reported as having succeeded to the willing gentlewoman!

Madras Rediscovered is not a boring collection of facts and details to construct the past of Madras but a charming text to be read to understand how a small trading post evolved to become the metropolis of modern times, told in a very conversational, yet sophisticated and flowing language.

Where you actually give yourself to giggles, laughs, disbelief, and even tears are the anecdotes that punctuate the 20 chapters, which Muthiah chooses to name Once Upon a City. The first one begins thus:

I had promised to show him Robert Clive’s watering-holes in and around Madras. Little did I realise he’d turn up at my house in the best Clive manner, complete with coach and escort. His outrider that morning roared up on an iron steed, quickly dismounted at my gate and threw a smart salute. Moments later the carriage chugged up behind the police inspector and ensconced in the auto-rickshaw was a short, tubby, safari-suited Stanley Clives peering owlishly through heavy glasses to make sure he’d got right an address no Clive had ever known. Once sure, he broke into a broad, most unClive-like grin and proceeded to explain the comedy of errors that had earned him a police escort and which had raised in his esteem more than a notch the Madras police force whose sense of duty encompassed helping harassed strangers.

So a Clive (he also tells how the Clive became Clives) descendent arrived to meet Muthiah in an autorickshaw escorted by a police vehicle. What a setting! That engaging style, with wit and humour, is what you could expect to be treated to in these anecdotes. The main narrative about Madras is full of flourishing text that draws you in, arrests your senses, and piles up your curiosity.

You better read up on how the Survey of India had its roots in Madras. There are stories on mysterious murder, heads over heels love that would make would make “true love an eternal bestseller”, and the forgotten merchantmen (among whom my favourite is Coja Petrus Uscan, the Armenian merchant who enabled the connect between Mambalam and St. Thomas Mount through the Marmalong Bridge [now Maraimalai Adigal Palam]).

Muthiah delves into the Cooum (which once was a bather’s delight, now a polluted nightmare), the French dalliance with Madras that fell through only because of a poorly designed treaty, and life of Annie Besant and how printing came to Madras in the following anecdotes.

The stories of Parry & Company and Crompton & Company, two of the affluent British firms of Madras in their heyday, the founding of Indian Bank, Indo-Saracenic architecture, Edward Winter who was Day’s contemporary, film making in Madras and the city’s metamorphosis are captured in other anecdotes.

I have my favourites though in those Once Upon a City anecdotes—about The Hindu, on my lifeline poet Bharathi and on mathematical genius S. Ramanujan, and the Chepauk cricket ground.

The bewitching write on Chepauk first:

To me – and to most enthusiasts of the game as played in another, more leisurely, perhaps, even more gracious, age – cricket in Madras will for ever be associated with Chepauk’s lovely sward of lush springy turf tended with infinite patience and care to billiard table smoothness by Munuswamy of old, the entire emerald oval surrounded by towering cassias and acacias, some a century old, shedding their cool shade over low, tin-roofed stands. From these stands, which did nothing to mar the English county cricket ground atmosphere of Chepauk, you could watch in stretch-legged comfort Johnstone and Ward and Nailer, Gopalan and Ram Singh and Rangachari do epic battle against each other in the annual Pongal Week ‘Tests’, the Presidency Match that pitted European versus Indian in many a famous contest, then team up together to do yeoman duty for Madras against the rest of India in the Ranji Trophy matches of the 1930s and 1940s. [my emphasis]

Once Muthiah bowls you over, you go on to finish the story in double quick time and keep going back to it for inspiration, again and again. Talking of Pongal tests, which at one time the Chepauk was famous for, and we, the young then, often termed Indian sloppiness on the field as buttery fingers (after a generous scoop of Sakkarai Pongal with hands)!

The Hindu is an icon of Madras, always holding a place in the city’s ethos with an unparalleled history, a rare case of a newspaper intertwined with a city’s culture. Muthiah wrote Madras Miscellany for years in this newspaper without a break! Except once when his home was flooded in 2015 and when he finally had to give up due to his uncooperating health. Those stories were served on Monday morning with unfailing regularity, with this chronicler’s gaze often deep and amusing. But let’s get back to The Hindu itself, in Muthiah’s words:

“You might like The Hindu or you may not,” starts this chronicler, who should have collected copious paper cuttings of this newspaper in to his journals. And goes on to say, albeit grounded in the very tradition of the land:

… the paper has always reminded me of a one-time neighbour abroad. A middle-aged wisp of a woman in a nine-yard saree, chattering away in impeccable but strongly accented English, she organised the neighbourhood’s best coffee parties and bridge sessions in the mornings, drove herself through snarled traffic for sareed tennis in the afternoons, and with supreme aplomb threw boisterously successful cocktail parties or staid sit-down dinners, replete with her best silver and traditional vegetarian cuisine, in the evenings. Yet she remained true to Olde Madras in all those years, in dress and makeup, in habits and customs, above all in the practice of rituals of faith and worship. She was, bless her daunting soul, the finest example I knew of that rather overpowering but slowly vanishing personality, the Modern Orthodox Madras Conservative. And The Hindu has tended to be that over the years.

Only he could style The Hindu as “A middle-aged wisp of a woman in a nine-yard saree.” And what follows about the newspaper’s history is nothing short of fabulous. And he told me once that he was so inspired by the coverage of Lakshmikanthan murder case in the newspaper.

The mathematical genius of Ramanujan is not what Muthiah dwells upon but his life struggle and his work. Not so much with linguistic flourish though. On occasion, your eyes moisten while reading it because of the way the story is told. Combined in this anecdote is also the story about S. Chandrasekhar, the astrophysicist who won the Nobel in physics, long after it was due though. Maybe the future generations would get some inkling of this outstanding scientist from Muthiah’s account. I for one didn’t know much about this tall figure in such detail before reading it here.

Bharathiar is a universal poet. And there would be a few who wouldn’t have heard about him in the Tamil land. And to immerse yourself into his works gives not only inspiration but also a charge that would light up your life, for ever. Muthiah writes:

During the two years that he was a subeditor with the Swadesamitran, Bharati not only was trained as a journalist by Subramania Aiyer but also acquired his fire. The bouquet of heady wine made Bharati want to burst into patriotic verbal extravagance.

Not much about Bharathi’s fiery poetry finds mention but more of his journalistic career and life forms Muthiah’s focus. He says:

Bharati, in exile and deprived of a journalistic career, undoubtedly turned softer. The same thing had happened to VOC, who had come out of jail a crushed man, and, earlier, Subramania Aiyer, who had been shattered by the very threat of imprisonment. Aurobindo Ghosh, a fellow exile in Pondicherry, turned to spiritualism and V V S Aiyar, another fiery revolutionary in exile, turned to the world of letters, writing the first Tamil short story in 1917, Kulathangarai Arasamaram, after an initial spell of training gunmen. In this atmosphere of broken dreams and literary timewhiling, Bharati attempted to retain his interest in politics by writing sedate letters to the editors of Madras journals. As his prose became less fiery, his verse became more lyrical. He became the supreme poet. He also gave up his rural indifference to appearance and opted for a buttoned-up frock coat, loose turban to hide his baldness, and a pampered moustache to go with his clean shave.

Muthiah weaves into Bharathiar’s life as a careful observer, picking up the story in its magnificent simplicity, and this was so thrilling to read, of his meeting with C.R. Srinivasan, manager of Swadesamitran, when Bharathi rejoined the newspaper:

They introduced themselves. Srinivasan later recalled: “The Bharati I saw that day is indelibly imprinted on my mind’s eye. Middling height. Thin build. Shining, light brown complexion. Layer after layer of a turban wound round the head. A broad forehead. A dot of kum kum of a quarter anna size in its middle. Thick brows that stood guard over the roving eyes. The upturned nose highlighting the sunken cheeks. Though an aggressive moustache hid the upper lip, the lower lip revealed a listless life. A shirt without buttons to cover the body and an alpaca black coat over it. That too torn while jumping from the cart. He sat on the chair. Tongue-tied, the eyes rolled around, sizing everything. They alighted on me also, moving up and down. Rebellious eyes; sorrowful eyes; eyes that exuded peace; eyes that captivated. They stole my heart.”

The greatness of Bharathiar told in succulent text, captivating to read. Who says Muthiah has left us? His text speaks to us and the city’s now popular historian, Sriram V, has kept alive his memoirs of the city by covering many of the sites, especially favouring North Madras, described in the book in his heritage walks.

The Swedes complain a lot, it seems. Maybe not of the cribbing type. But forceful reprimands, you could say. And yes, going by the comments they are posting on social media contesting the Swedish government’s decision not to enforce a lockdown. There was this question on Quora, “What is it like to live in Sweden? I am disconcerted by the spite and anger in comments to news stories. The comments rant about the government/people/corporations of Sweden. Is this representative of a major section of the population?” Lucas Lundstrom, replying to this question said, “If something is not working well as it can, Swedish people get cranky. A company spells something on a sign wrong? Christmas TV scheduling rumored to change? A specific chocolate you like gets removed from the box of assorted chocolate? Expect articles about the atrocities for 6 months.”  

Sweden Is Lovely, And Different in Times of Covid-19

“Sweden is an amazing country, known for its clean streets, successful welfare and high percentage of non-religious people,” states Expert World Travel on its web page. Honesty is a trait that you could widely see in Sweden, says Sheel Sadan, Technical Architect in IKEA, a Swedish export to the world, known for its minimalist design furniture. It’s a country with frighteningly dark, long winters. Swedes are also wary of strangers. But they are nice people believing in moderation in everything (lagom) and enjoying a socialising coffee break (fika).

Sweden in a non-lockdown mode. Pic courtesy: The Guardian.

Sweden has responded differently to Covid-19 compared to other Nordic countries, especially Demark and Finland, its neighbours. Deaths in Swedish elder care homes have alarmed its people and death rate of 131 per million has invited criticism of Sweden’s approach. The comparative rates of 55 per million in Denmark and 14 per million in Finland has railed its citizens who are asking the government to be more stringent.

Twenty-two researchers took to Dagens Nyheter, a Swedish newspaper, to complain that public health authorities have failed and asked politicians to take charge of the situation. Scores of public health experts and scientists have called for a review of the current approach. But the Swedish authorities are unmoved.

Anders Tegnell Refutes Criticism

Image from KXAN36.

Anders Tegnell, epidemiologist at the Sweden’s Public Health Agency, is calling the shots and his controversial steps has been the subject of much debate. Nature, the top science journal, was intrigued by the Swedish approach and interviewed Tegnell. The article on the interview explained: “Sweden didn’t go into lockdown or impose strict social-distancing policies. Instead, it rolled out voluntary, ‘trust-based’ measures: it advised older people to avoid social contact and recommended that people work from home, wash their hands regularly and avoid non-essential travel. But borders and schools for under-16s remain open — as do many businesses, including restaurants and bars.”

The rationale behind that decision is widely believed to be herd immunity. But Tegnell has repeatedly emphasised that the reason for a more relaxed approach is not only aimed at flattening the curve but also not overburdening the public health care system and society, pushing them to a risk of collapse. In responding to queries from Nature, he has clearly laid out Sweden’s approach to Covid-19. His views are that Swedish laws on communicable diseases are mostly based on voluntary measures. “Closedown, lockdown, closing borders — nothing has a historical scientific basis, in my view,” he points out. When asked, “Do you think the approach has been successful?” he says, “It is very difficult to know; it is too early, really. Each country has to reach ‘herd immunity’ [when a high proportion of the population is immune to an infection, largely limiting spread people who are not immune] in one way or another, and we are going to reach it in a different way.”

https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-020-01098-x

Niclas Roland, writing in Bloomberg Quint, quoted Tegnell as saying that the relaxed measures enforced by Sweden are beginning to show results. “We are on sort of a plateau,” he is reported to have told Swedish news agency TT. But to Nature, Tegnell’s response was measured and thoughtful and not very outright.

https://www.bloombergquint.com/global-economics/sweden-says-controversial-covid-19-strategy-is-proving-effective

On April 5, The Guardian reported that Sweden is preparing for tough measures as death toll has risen due to Covid-19.

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/apr/05/sweden-prepares-to-tighten-coronavirus-measures-as-death-toll-climbs

But three weeks down the line, nothing much has changed in Sweden’s approach. On March 30, Derek Robertson, writing for The Guardian, said, “Strong words, but stoicism is a way of life here, as is unflappability. A 300-year history of efficient and transparent public administration, and high levels of trust in experts and governing officials, have left the public inclined to believe what they are told, and that those doing the telling have their best interests at heart.”

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/mar/30/catastrophe-sweden-coronavirus-stoicism-lockdown-europe

Lars Trägårdh and Umut Özkırımlı, two professors, writing an opinion in The Guardian, reflected on why Swedish approach might work.

https://www.theguardian.com/world/commentisfree/2020/apr/21/sweden-covid-19-policy-trust-citizens-state

This could be one of the key insights: “Some experts have speculated that Sweden’s approach to managing the spread of the virus may also be influenced by its demographic profile – more than 50% of households are single-person – and relatively low population density of about 25 people per square kilometre, compared with, for example, 205 in Italy and 259 in the UK.”

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/apr/15/sweden-coronavirus-death-toll-reaches-1000

A media company, Discovery Networks, conducted a study to learn about the attitudes of their male viewers in 15 countries. When it came to Swedish men, the study opined: “However, the study also reveals that Sweden’s sensitive, new-age men may have shed the Protestant work ethic behind the traditional stereotype of the stoic, hard-working Swede who puts his head down and does what is necessary to complete the task at hand.”

https://www.thelocal.se/20080915/14344

Are New Zealanders as laid back as they are famous for? Thus went a query on Quora. Yes, in a nice way, said one software engineer who lived in New Zealand. Yes, agreed a New Zealand author too, but with a caveat – “Until you push us into a corner or do something we view as unfair or unjust. Then watch out. We are a warrior nation at heart. And we won’t back down from something that feels wrong to us.” One Indian software engineer disagreed and said ‘laid back’ should be substituted with ‘pragmatism’. The positive identity of New Zealanders is tied to Kiwi ingenuity as they often can come up with unconventional solutions to problems.

As an Indian, I only know the famous Kiwi cricketers as they were called until the term ‘Kiwi’ sort of came to be identified with a racist slant. Now they are Black Caps. Who can forget the famous and charismatic Richard Hadlee, one of the four great all-rounders of his time (Kapil Dev, Ian Botham and Imran Khan being the other three)? Then there was Martin Crowe, who stole our hearts with his beautiful cover drives, and also in the way he fought cancer and finally was consumed by it one day. Kane Williamson, the cool captain of the present New Zealand cricket team, stood like a rock when handed out what looked like an unfair defeat in the World Cup final in 2019. He said, “The players are shattered at the moment.”

New Zealand PM the Knight in the Country’s Shining Armour

But the New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern didn’t let the nation get shattered when it needed her the most.

For a country of 4.91 million people today, with more than one-fourth of them overseas-born, Prime Minister Ardern’s response to the rampaging pandemic – that threatened the Britons to almost the brink and exposed the many deficiencies in their response – ensured that it was contained in a stellar way in this isolated nation, which in 1907 became self-governing Dominion of New Zealand under the British Crown. In 1983, the country technically severed the imperial connection through the new letter patent ‘Realm of New Zealand’, repealing the Imperial Letter Patent of 1917, and cut off the remaining link by removing the residual power of British Parliament to legislate for New Zealand by bringing in the Constitutional Act 1986. Always shadowed by its more famous trans-Tasman rival, Australia, New Zealand today has shown to the world what a determined leadership in a crisis can do. The kind and firm Prime Minister, who faced more crises in her short term at the helm, has proved much more capable of handling them superbly. The world stood up and took note of this centre-left Labour leader, who stitched up a delicate coalition to win the 2017 polls, when terrorists struck in a mosque in Christchurch in March 2019, as she led the nation in providing an empathetic leadership. Close on its heels came the Whaakari/White Island volcano eruption in December 2019 and Prime Minister Ardern again led the nation with determination.

Britain’s Feet of Clay and New Zealand’s Grip over the Situation

The Sunday Times from London made a scathing expose of the British government’s ‘laid back’ response to the coronavirus infections that was initially brushed off as non-threatening. The Times report alleged that the British Prime Minister Boris Johnson – who later was to get infected with the coronavirus necessitating his admission into the ICU of St. Thomas’ Hospital and who eventually recovered from Covid-19 – was taking it easy and holidaying, mired in personal problems of his life, at a crucial time period in late February when tough decisions such as a lockdown should have been made. Poor modelling and a belief in herd immunity, repeatedly parroted by the establishment as enough to take of the disease in itself, resulted in British government’s initial intrepid response. When the British PM finally woke up to strike a lockdown in late March, things were under water. The death toll in UK (in hospitals as of April 19, 2020) has crossed 15,000 and infections well over 100,000.

While you could also take a sympathetic view that the British government, which sent as much as 270,000 pieces of support equipment to China on its request, did not foresee a worst situation as it eventually panned out, staying under the Covid-19 curve and then fighting it out. The situation seems overwhelming as the NHS is trying to procure enough PPEs and put in the required number of ICU beds. The good news is that people staying in hospitals from the Covid-19 disease is showing signs of tapering off. But the British government had to fight hard to bring the situation under its control, which seems to have not happened completely yet.

What makes New Zealand a role-model in its fight against coronavirus infections is the foresight with which the Prime Minister responded to the developing situation. Although, like many nations, New Zealand stopped incoming flights and people into the country late February, Prime Minister Ardern clamped a nationwide lockdown from March 25, 2020, a day after the British PM announced it from March 24, alarmed by the situation in Italy and Spain and modelling studies, which suggested 80,000 infections and 14,000 deaths if the situation goes unchecked in New Zealand. At that time, New Zealand had 102 cases of coronavirus infections and not a single death. The message to New Zealanders was “Act as if you have Covid-19. This will save lives.” The emphasis was on what was called a bubble – a smaller area where you could move around for biking and walking, say just your neighbourhood, with social distancing.

A Clear Elimination Strategy and Ashley Bloomfield a National Hero

As on April 19, 2020, only nine people have died from Covid-19 and 1431 infected with the coronavirus in New Zealand. Recoveries are at an impressive 912 cases. For a country of nearly 5 million people, there are only 519 active cases. New Zealand’s policy of ‘elimination’, rather than containment pursued by the United States and other Western nations, “is working,” reported the Washington Post in its report on April 7. A simple stat on this would make the situation clear: the number of new infections was lower than the number of recovered cases.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/asia_pacific/new-zealand-isnt-just-flattening-the-curve-its-squashing-it/2020/04/07/6cab3a4a-7822-11ea-a311-adb1344719a9_story.html

In New Zealand’s fight against the pandemic. at the forefront is the nation’s Director General of Health, Dr. Ashley Bloomfield, whose press conferences – at times addressed alongside Prime Minister Ardern – have become a huge hit among New Zealanders for the precise way in which he delivers data. It even prompted New Zealanders to make him New Zealander of the Year 2021 for his “competent, calm and factual” updates. But he is humble enough to say, “I am lucky to be part of a fantastic team.”

https://www.tvnz.co.nz/one-news/new-zealand/dr-ashley-bloomfield-responds-humbly-news-petition-him-new-zealander-year

On April 6, Tess Nicole called Ashley Bloomfield “the country’s unassuming rock star.”

https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2020/04/new-zealand-covid-19-coronavirus-ashley-bloomfield.html

Typical New Zealander Coming to the Fore

“New Zealand is a low-context country,” said Rosie, host of the YouTube channel, NotEvenFrench, in one of her YouTube videos. Rosie is a New Zealander who lives in Paris with her French partner. She says New Zealanders are open, warm and friendly and believe in clear and straightforward communication. And they are casual in their dress sense too, she emphasised, preferring flip-flops and even walking barefoot. “New Zealand is a beautiful country,” she points out and there cannot be two views on that. Bountiful nature is spread across New Zealand, uninhibited in some parts, with only the cities and urban areas a bit dense with populace.

Prime Minister Ardern uses the characteristic New Zealander trait of open and clear communication. She takes pains to explain, repeat and emphasise. She is active on Facebook and goes Facebook live to delve into questions posed by the people of her country. When announcing the lockdown on March 23, she clearly explained the rules of the lockdown. And when the imminent end of the lockdown is slated for April 22, a month after it was clamped, the New Zealand PM has started explaining the rules for relaxation from level 4 (complete lockdown) to level 3 (lockdown with some relaxations but strict on social distancing). She gets to the bottom of it, clearly explaining the implications of various scenarios, including what it would mean to scale down to level 3 and what precautions that the country has to take to adhere to those. She also cautions that a revert to level 4 might happen if there are flagrant violations.

New Zealand’s Future

The New Zealand government has also understood the pain of its countrymen during the lockdown and Finance Minister Grant Robertson announced a series of concessions including a six-month holiday on principal and tax on mortgages. The Government also plans to implement a business finance guarantee for small and medium businesses to protect jobs and support the economy in the unprecedented times.

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-health-coronavirus-newzealand-banks/new-zealand-announces-mortgage-holiday-business-finance-support-to-cushion-virus-impact-idUSKBN21B0CA

But as everywhere, economic slump is a worrying outcome of the lockdown. And how economy will fare during the lockdown and after the lockdown is lifted is a challenge that the New Zealand government is confronted with. New Zealand is slated to go to polls in September 2020, and if Jacinda Ardern would pull it off again also remains to be seen.

Cricket-crazy Indians little realise that rugby is a religion in New Zealand. And the country won the Rugby World Cup in 2015. There was a YouTube video released then: The Greatest haka ever?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yiKFYTFJ_kw

The unprecedented worldwide lockdown, triggered by the threat of the novel corona virus that originated from Wuhan in the Hubei province of China leading to the deadly respiratory disease, defined as Covid-19 by WHO, has also showcased some unlikely heroes who take the podium every day to brief the press with daily updates on largely the ground situation, including number of Covid-19 infected persons and those tested, and the measures being taken to tackle the present and the expected contingencies. The Coronavirus Research Center of John Hopkins University and Medicine provides a live update of just the (alarming) numbers: global Coronavirus infections and deaths in an easy-to-visualise numerical dashboard, which is usually used by all news outlets across the world. The local data is gathered by the governments of various countries at different levels (country-wide down to state and district levels) and shared with the public through a press meet daily.

Five heroes have emerged and many more unsung who haven’t hogged the limelight out of this threatening virus infection and disease that has killed close to 100,000 people and has spread to 185 countries worldwide. Governments are grappling with countermeasures and mostly have resorted to lockdowns in response to this deadly virus that is sparing no one. It has already claimed the life of Princess of Spain, aged 84. British Prime Minister Boris Johnson (55) was also infected with this virus and was admitted to the intensive care unit of St Thomas Hospital, but he has managed to get out of ICU and over Covid-19.

Horacio Arruda, the unlikely hero of Quebec

Source: ValMo-Illustration on Facebook.

Dr. Horacio Arruda, an unknown bureaucrat in the Canadian province of Quebec, has become a sensation because of his daily press briefings. This 59-year-old Director of Public Health of Quebec Province has charmed the Canadians through some of his controversial actions such as touching his face, in warning the audience about the consequences of some actions that lead to contacting Corona virus infections. He has found his way into t-shirts and memes.

https://www.npr.org/sections/coronavirus-live-updates/2020/04/06/826617849/this-quebec-health-official-has-become-a-sensation-with-his-coronavirus-tips

 ***

New Zealand is falling in love with the Ashley Bloomfield Show

New Zealand’s Ashley Bloomfield, “the extremely competent, somewhat boring” Director of Health, has set the “New Zealanders’ hearts aflutter” through his daily press briefings. Hailed as a “mild-mannered health care hero” he takes the podium every day and “in his gentle, measured way delivers whatever news he needs to, good or bad.” What has come to be called the Ashley Bloomfield Show, his daily press briefing is eagerly awaited by Dr. Bloomfield’s fans as well the country’s people.

Anna Rawhiti-Connell, who writes for newsroom.co.nz, in her ode to Ashley Bloomfield, confessed her unqualified admiration for him: “When children ask me what I did during the great pandemic of the 2020s, I will tell them I participated in idolatry so egregious that the Golden Calf would’ve blushed a dusky shade of metallic rose. Every day, at 1 pm, I tune in to my new favourite TV programme, the Ashley Bloomfield Show starring Ashley Bloomfield.” She added, “My Twitter account became the national headquarters for the Ashley Bloomfield fan club. Hundreds of like-minded souls have since followed me. If Ashley Bloomfield were Jesus, I am at least one of the lesser known apostles now. Jude Thaddeus perhaps.”

Here is a funny take on how he greets before starting the interview: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pH6O94k1Tc4

If you want to indulge further, watch this press briefing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z6J7IjpfPvA&t=533s

***

Pinarayi Vijayan attracts Malayalis across the globe

Closer home, Kerala’s Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan’s daily press meet, lasting over an hour from 6 to 7 pm, is a worldwide hit, with Keralites across the globe following the updates closely. The Kerala CM’s message delivered with a deadpan face still has won millions of admirers for his ability to provide clear view of the situation. At times, Mr. Vijayan also indulges in advice: in one press meet, he asked husbands to help wives in the kitchen!

Writing for the News Minute, Sreedevi Jayarajan says that the Kerala CM’s 6 pm press meet has reached popularity levels of entertainment TV soaps. She says, “The daily press meets have also ensured that fake news circulation has reduced to a large extent.” The interesting tit bit about the press meet is that “Interestingly, Pinarayi’s speeches with a deadpan demeanor have not only generated jokes and discussions in the state; data on the BARC audience measurement of Malayalam channels between March 21 and 27, now show that the CM’s 6 pm press meets have turned into a staple of sorts for the average Malayali.”

https://www.thenewsminute.com/article/pinarayi-vijayan-s-6-pm-press-meets-have-become-staple-kerala-viewers-122158

Video of a press meet: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYR82t7bi88

***

The Health Secretary of Tamil Nadu Is Winning Admirers All Around

Tamil Nadu’s Health Secretary Dr. Beela Rajesh’ no-nonsense press briefing has won her admirers all over, with praise pouring in for her clarity and elaborate explanation. A doctor by education, Dr. Beela joined the IAS in 1997. She patiently answers all the questions posed by reporters. She deftly defers tricky details on data sought for by reporters but has also proven quite adept at negotiating some controversial questions related to treatment and death. Her appeal on Twitter as well during the press meet to treat Covid-19 patients with kindness went viral. Her sartorial taste has also generated conversation as well as memes on social media. She usually wears a saree with a matching neck-covered elbow-length blouse in bright colours.

This video went viral, in which she clearly explained how Covid-19 testing is done in Tamil Nadu. After this, she was regularly followed by press and the public on her daily press briefing:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mWq_DxgdA64

***

Rajasthan’s Health Official Explains How District Administration Can Make a Difference Literally to People’s Lives

Rohit Kumar Singh, Rajasthan Additional Chief Secretary of Health, in his interview with Shereen Bhan of CNBC-TV18, displayed an admirable clarity, combined with clear articulation, in the strategy adopted by the Rajasthan Government, especially the district administration, in preventing an outbreak in the textile town of Bhilwara just after one case of infection of a doctor was detected. It is now hailed as the Bhilwara Model. Mr. Singh said the strategy has been “ruthless containment, ruthless containment, ruthless containment.”

Watch the interview (from -14:40) here after the daily briefing by the Union government officials:

Death is what comes at times when you least expect. And these are the times where mortality stares at us. In his passing, ‘Crazy’ Mohan leaves the Tamil theatre much poorer. He went when he was still reigning and he left without a murmur. There are certain people who we think will stay immortal. We never imagine death will come to them – that too when they are in the most happening times. As someone said when Steve Jobs passed away, he died ‘medias res’ – in the middle of a story. By any stretch of imagination, ‘Crazy’ Mohan had a lot left in him!

‘Crazy’ Mohan, even at a distance to a commoner like me, provided a sense of ‘all is well with the world’ feeling. He orbited within a defined space, never courting controversy even for a pickle (as a Tamil saying goes). Kamal Haasan’s tribute best defined him – a childish innocence that never left him. What is more remarkable is his absolute lack of malice towards anyone or anything. A proud product, as he would often, of a joint family system, he kept his gaze at the daily goings on and gave silliness a new comic meaning. His word twists, as Baradwaj Rangan, says in his tribute – postman fell ‘thabaal-nu’ – came as a great relief to our own straight-line gaze at the world. A sort of convoluted thinking and a twisted way of approaching anything in his plots that gave way to a series of knots, which untangled one by one, was his trademark. It seemed to come naturally to him – this is where he attributes his writing to the joint family he lived with.

I was not a veritable fan of his plays, but I enjoyed catching up whenever I stumbled upon it or when I deliberately wanted to see some of his plays. There was always a pull, always an inclination to watch. There was something enjoyable, there was something funny, there was some way of leg pulling of our own lives, there was something that felt good because it was not political, never smelling of someone or something current. He simply gave us a lot of joy. He made us laugh – again and again at our own silliness and at the silly things that others did. His word play facilitated the carry of his humour quite tellingly.

Repeatedly he has said a few things that are quite instructive of his approach to life. He would say, ‘Life is crazy; take it easy.’ He never seemed to think of anything outside the family. His simple demeanour was endearing. ‘Madhu’ Balaji, his brother, was offered films as an actor, but he staunchly refused them as it would lead to discord with his wife. That said a lot about the values that the joint family practiced. He often talked about his joint family system coming in good stead for his writing. He spoke of the twisted ways sometimes life was looked at by his large family. ‘Crazy’ Mohan never defied discipline even when he began to court films for script writing. He never spoke ill of anyone – another gracious trait.

His script writing was as neither much of an ROFL variety nor was it subdued British humour type. It was loud and obvious to shake us out of our inhibitions – to have a hearty laugh without a worry. There was always this word play that came in good stead. The twists and characterisation together worked only to make us laugh more. Kamal Haasan as the hero of his scripts delivered memorable comedies that went on to become blockbusters. You could watch those films repeatedly without getting bored. My favourite is Pancha Thandhiram for its sheer word play, the Crazy Mohan type. There was a time when I binge watched the Kamal starrers with Crazy’s scripts just to get out of a low moment. It worked wonders. Right from ‘Evlo periya mathre?’ to ‘Janaki medium form’ (for Maragathavalli) to ‘Kelvi kettarathu romba easy mama’ to several others make the film watchable innumerable types just for the unadulterated fun. Repeated watching of Kamal Haasan movies with Crazy’s writing just enhanced the experience, never making you feel tedious. That was pure magic of ‘Crazy’ Mohan. Another great snatch of a scene that would give us a laugh anytime we watched was the ‘mean’ (meen?) comedy in Michael Madana Kama Rajan.

‘Crazy’ Mohan was multifaceted – he could do skilful art, giving hours of painstaking attention, and write even more sophisticated limericks (venbas) in Tamil. He was supremely talented and genius at inventing comical situations out of the ordinary. Never for once was his scholarly visible, never once did he weigh himself above. He remained so rooted to his simple outlook of life, so grounded, so simple mannered. His joy of defining his life was such a pleasure to hear – ‘I will feel homesick even in Mambalam’. He earned friendships on the weight of his simplicity and he was so courteous and gentle.

Words fail, mouth dries up, and a storm of emotions overtake me as I sit to write this. When you lose someone who has made some impact on your life, you are lost for words.

I am one of those legions of people whom he has touched and taught. I feel like a nobody against his legendary status. S. Muthiah, whom I always called Sir, is no longer with us. It feels devastating. Those are my first thoughts.

I came in touch with Sir in 2009, a bit far away from Chennai, when Kiruba Shankar arranged for a brainstorming with a select group of people under an initiative called Cerebrate. He was there on two days. I had been following his column Madras Miscellany for some time. He was happy to hear me say that and I had no hint that this relationship transform into something impactful.

He invited me to a celebration of 20 years of Madras Musings at the Madras Cricket Club the following week. I was a naïve young man, not knowing a thing about heritage. But he asked me to meet Sriram V, with whom I have struck a working relationship now, who in turn asked to write about sports for Musings. I shied away because I found Musings articles to be intense and well-researched. But it so happened that he spotted me in a Madras Day celebration when Ramanathan Krishnan, the accomplished tennis player from India, was in conversation with the veteran sports journalist Nirmal Shekar. He then asked me to write about that for Musings. That was my first report and he called me to discuss how I should write better.

The initial conversations were around a young man taking lessons from an expert in journalism. I wrote quite adjectivally for YourStory at that time. It was after I started writing for Musings that I trimmed my writing.

I was sometimes surprised that he would discuss a few things with me. He would tell me about how they met S. Raghavanandam, a former Minister in the MGR cabinet, to save Moore Market after it was burnt down in a fire. The same would appear in his Miscellany column the following week.

The conversations were just lessons. Once I wrote about my first interaction with him on my blog and showed it to him. He told me, “Don’t credit anyone with more than what they deserve.” I was effusive in praise about him! He had told me so many of his personal stories – his time as a journalist in Sri Lanka, his first house in Pallavaram, his tryst with floods in Kotturpuram, his buying the property in T. Nagar where he resides now.

Sometimes there would be silence. He has also admonished me for turning up his pieces late. He didn’t tolerate that.

There were occasions he would tell me that he found something to be appealing and some not so appealing. He found some writing not so great.

I too had the privilege of attending a journalism course over eight weeks he taught at the Press Institute of India. Some of the lessons I learned from it I carry with me till today. I saw him as a model journalist with a wide span of interests.

I kept collecting his books and he would generously point me to someone from whom i can take a copy. I still think some of the books he wrote are not in my collection. The fascination with Madras Rediscovered is something to be treasured for me, and I was immersed in the way he weaved the story around Madras. He was no doubt a master storyteller.

What strikes anyone coming to know about Sir is his work ethic. A discipline that he has forged over the years. He would simply work for long hours in a day, turning in so much of writing putting young people like me to shame. That is something you would wish to emulate and keep for life.

The other quality that I noticed in him was his spirited attitude and not giving up. Once he sets sights on something, he would do it. He never flinched under pressure or not seeing positive results. I presume he never abandoned anything. His Musings effort as its Editor, like clockwork every 15 days, stands testimony to his work ethic among many other stuff he created in his lifetime. His work clock worked perfectly well.

He was intensely curious to know. He has said many times in his columns that he learns something new every day. But that intensity in curiosity kept him going for ever without a stop.

The greatest learning from Sir has been how to carry yourself. I used to suggest a lot to him, which he would largely shrug off. I told him once that he should put up a website about his achievements. He emphatically said no and said, “I went to High Court today and three people recognized me.” He didn’t think that what he did had to have a public relations angle. But he has made sure that generations to come owe it to him for discovering Madras and telling us that it’s the first modern city of India.

He was someone who knew how to treat people well. But when it comes to work, he was different.

I learned in some ways how to treat others with dignity from him. It’s difficult to say so much in words. But I will quote one example. One writer, a regular for Musings, was not a man of great mental strength. During one interaction when discussing about Sir, Mr. Sriram told me, “Mr. Muthiah told me treat him in a gentle way.”

Sir’s generosity of spirit was tremendous. He was only there to give, and it all depended upon how much you can take. The more you took from him, the more you went up. I have heard several people say how he encouraged them to pursue some interest in heritage and helped them along the way. I would say there a number of them who benefitted from his generosity of spirit.

It feels like vacuum for me that I would never get to meet him again. The gentle reception at his home when I met him with him asking me what would I have – sukku coffee or coffee – is all memories now.

He intensely valued people’s friendships and their relationships. And he has many followers who thank him for making a difference.

It’s a daughter’s ode to her father. It preserves memories of a bygone era. It captures the mundane life in all its ordinariness. It’s a time travel with a paterfamilias who lived for ninety years. It’s a tale of exuberant and spirited youth transforming into a weighted maturity of a family man, living a life by keeping accounts of the nation and self, and then excruciatingly withering away little by little, as the daughter watches her father sliding into an irreversible decline, and finally seeking a resting place up above.

Daddykins: A Memoir of My Father and I by Kalpana Mohan is a thoughtful read, delightful in the felicity of language where the verbs, nouns and adjectives snugly fall into place. It’s quite an artful portrayal of life, enriched by the language in which it is told. Though the life of her father was nothing extraordinary, by Kalpana’s own admission, the reading is quite an experience of a text that keeps you drawn in – just for the way it is written. T. Nagar’s evolution through the years where her father first bought a bungalow and then a flat and the parts of Kerala where her father belonged and got married are depicted in the background, coursing us through history as these places changed in time.

As the chronicler of Madras, S. Muthiah, would say often everyone needs to tell their story. Kalpana tells her father’s story, in the process capturing the societal hues and social mores of the times that he lived through. The luxury of those times seems to have been lost on us for ever. Kalpana keeps a thin line separating her father as an emotional and affectionate part of her life and as the subject whose life is being recorded. It’s delicate but in seeing her father as a subject, she portrays a third eye view of Daddykins with some unadulterated wit and charm. The book is not just full of admiration for a man who kept accounts of every penny spent every day and as someone who was looked up to by the entire family, but it also registers some of his failings as a human. It would be unfair to pass judgement on the book because it has to be taken as the life story is told.

Daddykins lends himself to be captured in a lighter essence, his personality defined by a great sense of humor. Remarkable is the way in which he gets over his mouth getting pulled to its left because of a stroke with a bag of tricks. Remarkable is the way in which he gives into this first daughter who falls in love with Thalaivar. Remarkable is the way in which he finds a groom for the author, the tenth man to be seen for a match.

The one constant in the book is Man Friday and valet of Daddykins, Vinayagam, who becomes an inseparable part of the family’s being as Daddykins is pushed into a lonely life after Kalpana’s mother is lost to cancer. She was an ordinary woman, given away in marriage when she was just fourteen. She would sound familiar to any daughter from those times. She designs her life to be full of earnestness to make the best out of the circumstances. Her yearnings for small things that fills her almirah in effect captures the spirit of her circumscribed world. But she was a woman who understood people and life more than a university education would have helped her. She navigated her life holding up and mastering the household effectively, at times throwing a complaint or two about Daddykins, who measured every penny spent. But I felt her story should have been told a bit more. I felt inadequate of her not shown much light. After all, it is the mothers who shape our lives quietly and they don’t expect credit for their sacrifices, but they are not given the heft that fathers enjoy.

After reading the book, I felt two people made a difference to Daddykin’s life. Thalaivar, the son-in-law, whom Daddykins was not initially in favour of getting his daughter, Urmila, married to. But, he preserved Daddykins in an extraordinary way in his twilight years. He kept him going with verve by giving him an office after retirement, by taking care of his needs and just by caring a little more. It seemed so appropriate that Daddykins wanted the pyre to be lit by him.

Vinayagam is a character that Kalpana first introduced in her Facebook updates on her father as an argumentative youth, full of opinions, sometimes unsettling, somethings infectiously funny, sometimes strongly in disagreement. The Man Friday of Daddykins filled in the void of his two daughters, settled away in foreign lands. It’s an example of a bondage beyond blood. It’s difficult to make out if Vinayagam’s life was shaped by Daddykins or if Vinayagam defined Daddykin’s final years. It’s a great tribute to Vinayagam that Kalpana has paid by making him an integral part of the narrative.

Kalpana keeps the narrative straight by not bringing in much of what her father meant to his sisters, called Three Roses, and not making it too much of a swansong. They come and go in the measure needed but essentially you get to know what they meant to Daddykins. In a fine balance, she also captures how the two daughters – she and her sister Urmila – cared for Daddykins as the process of decline set in. In a great understatement, Kalpana doesn’t glorify what Daddykins meant to her husband Mohan or his family. She told the book reading session that her father-in-law told her as he stepped out their T. Nagar home after the passing away of Daddykins, “He was a gentleman.”

Group photo taken from Parry’s terrace. Courtesy: Sriram V.’s blog.

Sriram V. completed 75 heritage tours around the city on July 15, 2018 when he conducted a tour of the Parry’s corporate headquarters, Dare House, regaling the participants with anecdotes from the history of Parry & Company, which still retains its original name Parry’s as part of the Murugappa group.

As you enter the terrace from the Tiffin Room in the Parry’s corporate headquarters, the sweep of harbour, ships and the Port Trust on side and the High Court buildings on the other gives a stunning view. Compare this with aesthetically shot photos from the bygone era that we got to see inside Parry’s and you could not help but only weep silently at what has happened to this wonderful landscape.

That evening was special, as Sriram V. chose to focus on a more than two centuries old corporate group for his heritage tour. What would usually be a non-active Sunday evening at Dare House saw hectic activity, with a large group invading its peace. After a greeting and welcome by Executive Chairman of the Murugappa group, M.M. Murugappan (who is a fine orator by the way and he proved it by promising a crying infant a job at Parry’s 20 years from now) at the L-shaped conference hall at the ground floor, we reached the East Board Room on the fifth floor and from there West Board Room on the same floor. Both Board Rooms have portraits of men who led the company through its glorious journey along with historical artefacts, showcasing the chequered history of the group. Making the evening alive Sriram’s narration of the Parry’s story, which started as Parry & Company, founded by Thomas Parry, a well-to-do Brit who came to India in search of wealth in 1788, as every Brit in the 18th century did. Sriram quoted from various sources the legacy of Parry’s, which was taken over by the Murugappa group in 1981. Its turnaround saga was scripted by A.V. Subbiah, whose wit was part of his personality that he came to notice extravagant staffing and idle labour. Cutting the fab probably worked wonders and strategic decisions contributed to the group expanding its footprint strongly into finance, in addition to sugar, cycles, engineering, insurance, and agro-products, and letting go of confectionery and sanitaryware business. Incidentally, of the seven industry majors during the British times, only Parry’s has survived. Of the Big Three of the British times – Arbuthnot & Company, Binny & Company and Parry & Company, abbreviated ABP – Arbuthnot’s died a suicidal death in 1906 in a market crash, which was a scandalous chapter in corporate history of Madras. Binny’s glory lasted well in the 1980s when its hardline labour force and warring unions sounded a death knell, not agreeing to modernisation of the company. Vijay Mallya did the honours of slowly bringing down Best & Crompton, which was Best & Company, a leading merchant establishment, in its earlier form. George Woodruff, Beardsell all sank slowly probably due to mismanagement and lack of strategy to last in modern times. Sriram joked that all businessmen with surnames such as Chhabria and Mallya, who had the dubious distinction of sinking businesses, made sure the companies that were flying high until the 1980s closed.

The name Parry & Company not only suited the enterprise of its founder Thomas Parry, but it also was apt for a wide variety in his companionship, as his wife departed to England not liking India and probably Parry as well. His female companions who made sure his comforts are taken care of ranged from English women to Anglo Indians to Indians. Probably he was at ease with a high-society white woman as he was with the lovely village lass of India. That didn’t matter much as it was his personal dealing, but he fairly treated all of them in his will, elaborating how much to whom. And a raconteur like Sriram can extract more juice from already salacious tales.

Madras was under threat till 1763 on two fronts: from the father-son duo of Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan from Mysore (which ended after the Third Carnatic War in 1763) and the French from Pondicherry who usually attacked from the sea. Dupleix successfully laid a siege to Madras bringing it under his control from 1746 to 1748. Amidst the fierce British-French rivalry around the world and during the Seven Years’ War, Comte de Lally mounted yet another attack on Madras in 1758/59, destroying the Black Town (where the Madras High Court stands today) as well as the cemetery of the British, which was once Guava Gardens (now Madras Law College). After Lally’s unsuccessful campaign -- plagued by dissent, infighting and monsoon, which led to the British grouping to ward off his threat -- to prevent a seaside French attack, the British establishment designed an open space around the erstwhile Black Town, calling it Esplanade, in which 21 pillars were erected to mark its boundary. One of the obelisks of that era is still preserved outside the Dare House, while others have vanished in course of time. But there is one inside a jewellery shop and another inside the Royapuram Police Station, according to Sriram.

Recently, when on a bus travel, I purchased Madras Rediscovered on Kindle to have a feel of the book electronically. The re-reading turned very pleasurable as I was able to identify with much of the spaces and spots (unlike in my earlier readings) as I had traversed them in the heritage walks of Sriram V. Probably, in my view, the places covered in the book that Sriram has not touched are Guindy and Thiruvanmiyur. S. Muthiah says the book is only a walk through the city saddled in the historical past, with curiosity and a keen eye.

An Armenian trader with a large heart, Coja Petras Uscan had captured my heart as well when I had read earlier with deep interest that he was the one who funded the Marmalong Bridge for the faithful to go from Marmalong (the anglicised name of Mambalam) to St. Thomas Mount. He was man of intense sentiment about his roots and his hospitality to the Nawab of Arcot to win business was regal in its demonstration, as Muthiah points out. He donated mostly to building churches and their upkeep. His faith is moving. Armenians flourished in Madras during the British by engaging in trading activities.

During the French siege in 1746-1748, Dupleix had offered through Capuchin Fathers to return all Uscan’s property and belongings the French had looted during their siege of Madras if Uscan switched his loyalty to the French. Uscan replied in “biting verse,” as Muthiah says, to Dupleix clearly stating he was determinedly loyal to the British, emphatically adding it was Armenian tradition to stay loyal to one’s benefactors. He asked Dupleix to sell all his property and donate the proceeds to the poor. With a hint of sarcasm, he pointed out that the well-nourished French coffers wouldn’t need his money after all. We saw Uscan and his glory during the Armenian Street Walk of Sriram.

Back to the Parry’s story. Thomas Parry was a “free merchant”, which was a loaded term during the Company rule. The name “free merchant” was just an alibi for loot and plunder. And scores of men from Britain came through a harrowing journey to India only with the aim of returning wealthy with unimaginable sums to Britain. Robert Clive, who is credited with establishing British supremacy in India, was dubious in his dealings and signified the spirit of those who bent law and anything in their favour to make tons of money. The British debauchery in India was templated in Madras. The organised loot of the Nawab of Arcot by piling debt on him and then confiscating his territory was the same modus operandi the British used to gain control over much of North India when they chose Calcutta as their base for operations. And their military might came in handy to bring any revolting king to submission. The lucky Englishmen, who were adept at turning things in their favour, amassed huge wealth and returned to England with a booty that decisively turned their lives towards affluence and power. Some bought a Parliament seat (yes, bought), constructed huge mansions and palatial homes, endeavouring to be identified with high society. Blood runs strong in British society. The illiterate men who turned rich after their return from India were disparagingly called Nabobs. And the nobility and royalty didn’t recognise their status as one among them. Even though Nabobs’ bloodlines didn’t smell high mannered, money had mattered at times in human civilisation. Nabobs eventually found their place in society though the recognition came after years.

Even Thomas Parry, as Sriram said, was wanting to go back to England for ever. But he didn’t say what kept him here. I think he found his firm foot, enjoying the Company’s benevolence and also the comfort from his companions. But he was to die contracting cholera. Poor soul! He was an exception to the “Nabobi” operations of the British men who came here on the premise of patronage from the Company’s men already stationed here. Exception because he didn’t become a Nabob by returning to England as others did. Some white men enticed other white men’s wife, the most interesting among them Warren Hastings whose love affair with Maria Chaupset, wife of Karl von Imhoff, an artist, started on his journey to Madras in the ship. It extended into Calcutta. And Muthiah captures it all in fine detail in “Once Upon a City” in Madras Rediscovered. He married his Marian, who was practically governess de facto when Hastings was Governor of Bengal. Love stories that the Bollywood, Kollywood, Tollywood and Sandalwood dish out today pale in scripting and imagination to how it played out in British times. Blue murders in the name of love was not in fashion during British times as much as I believe (unlike the Dina Thanthi stories of the secret lover of the wife conspiring to kill her husband). Lovelorn women ditched their husbands and joined their lovers. Some just ran away from their husbands or waited for them to leave for England, as in Marian’s case. They duly got a divorce and married the lover. The men also did the same – divorce the wife and marry the lover. The stiff British society of the times didn’t take to live-in much, I suppose.

Be it as it may, history has been kind to Thomas Parry as he is remembered in good ways and little would he have imagined that a company bearing his name would survive for more than two centuries, with diverse business interests as a vast corporate entity in independent India. And that company, which has seen changes in its ownership from Parry’s times, has been chosen by Sriram for his 75th walk.

This picture was taken at the end of the first-ever conference for copyeditors held in Chennai, India, on February 25, 2018. Some speakers are missing here. L-R: K. Venkatesh, Surit Das, Visalakshy Loganathan, Arpana Shandilya, Chitralekha Manohar, Bushra Rashid, Ujwala Vaidya, K. Lakshmi, Yateendra Joshi, K.P. Eashwar, Anantharaman Venkataram (aka Venkat). Missing: Nilima Vyas, Selvin, Manish Kewani.

I was one of the skeptics of the Indian Copyeditors Forum (ICF) when it began on June 28, 2015. Vivek Kumar, with whom I have had a brief conversation eons ago and had conveniently forgotten all about it, had conceived an idea of bringing together Indian copyeditors under a Facebook group to converse, discuss, have debates, and learn from peers.

Chitralekha Manohar, the new-age copyeditor and business owner now, facilitated the first-ever ICF meeting in Chennai less than 2 years ago on April 16, 2016. I had known Chitra earlier and had met her at the publishing conference, PubNext, in Goa. Her mentor, Vinutha Mallya, is my friend as well. In a gathering of just four or five editors that lasted over a couple of hours at a quiet corner in a Cafe Coffee Day outlet in Chennai, I discovered and learned new stuff—tools for editing. Ashwin Krishnan became a friend from there.

We, the editors from Chennai and Pondy, met a couple of times again, but the networking was unmatched to my earlier experiences and I made new friends. Murugaraj and Arun are the two who still continue to be friends from the meet at Pondicherry. A vibrant community has formed thanks to that one step that Vivek has taken. Thank you, Vivek, for infusing life into my editing career as a freelancer. I think many editors would share the same sentiment about ICF.

Visalakshy Loganathan, whom we call Visa for short, had ventured into copyediting on her own a few years back. One of my dear colleagues at work, Namami Ghosh, had once asked me to help Visa out. I had gone to her office and had met her briefly at Pondicherry. She was warm, nice, and very pleasant. She gave me a nice artificial bouquet as a gift. I think it was a very fancy bouquet made of some wooden stuff or something that always made me remember that only Pondicherry is known for that craft and somehow I connected it to Auroville and the exotic Pondicherry. It was so nice. It stayed on top of the refrigerator in my home for long. But when I again met her in Pondy perhaps a couple of years ago in the ICF meet, she had forgotten all about it. In fact, I had referred her to a customer with whom she had struck a great relationship. I am really happy about it.

Visa spoke passionately about everything concerned with copyediting—training editors, bringing them together, seeking new opportunities, challenges in scaling the business. I used to be amazed at her business skills and thinking of copyediting as a business. For me, copyediting is a passion and humanities books are enough for a lifetime. Now I want to go into unexplored territories thanks to the Editors’ Conclave.

Visa had called me to discuss the idea of a conference somewhere in November or December 2017 and started to make plans for it. She told me that Apex Covantage, in which I have good friends like Siva, Ezhil, and Sathya Dalton, is willing to financially back it. We discussed the format and there was silence afterward. I was thinking she would have postponed it and may announce it sooner or later. Perhaps a month ago, the frenzy began and she asked me for some leads and ideas. And then nothing. Maybe a week ago, she was raring to go. She had completed the work quietly behind, having enlisted speakers and finalizing the venue. She had stuck to her guns and kept her promise of holding it in February much against Vivek’s advice, who wanted it to be held in June when editor-mothers will be free from exam hassles of their children and more wannabe editors will join the conference. I have always found her to be very good at executing and at thinking big. Visit http://editorsconclave.com/index.html to know more about the conference. I am hoping it will be updated with pictures and videos soon.

When I stepped into the conference on Sunday morning, I was really awestruck. Visa has gone a step further than Vivek. She had physically brought editors from all over the country together under one roof in a charged atmosphere. She always reminds me of the cricket umpire Steve Bucknor. He was called the silent killer. Stephen Brenkley wrote on Bucknor:

To be given out by Steve Bucknor is death by torture. First the appeal, loud, prolonged, imploring. And then nothing. Only a tense stillness. Time is suspended. Packed stadiums freeze. The bowler grimaces in hope, the batsman tries not to look.

Bucknor’s brain computes. Where did the ball pitch, how much did it move? Or could it have taken the edge? Was there a noise? Or a deviation? You can hear the cogs turn. He betrays no emotion. And then the slow nod. Usually, it is just one movement. Slowly comes the final blow, the raising, almost reluctantly of the index finger as if to say: “This is hurting me far more than it’s hurting you. But sadly I have no choice.”

If you have ever seen Visa, she is quiet, talks almost in whispers, and gives the impression of easily getting scared. But she is a storm if you would have known her a bit more. She silently accomplishes and executes. She is not the silent killer variety, but a methodical go-getter and very decisive like Steve Bucknor.

Manish had already rolled out an infectiously enthusiastic video preconference. The cofounder of PaperTrue revealed in his keynote how he accidentally stumbled upon a business opportunity in editing and proofreading. His keynote pushed editors to aim for the sky. He was funny, encouraging, and very delightful in conveying his message.

Then came Yateendra Joshi, whom I was seeing for the first time. He reminded me of a headmaster about whom I had read in a book. When that headmaster wanted to retire, none of the students were willing to let him go. A very methodical editor that Yateendra is, it came through in his presentation. How should you go for certification was succinctly explained by him step by step. It was one of the best presentations of the day.

I have only heard about Dr. Venkat. He gave an in-depth presentation on how to sift a manuscript into components to look for where the slip happens. He gave an insight into the stages of an editor’s life. He harbors ambitions of training an army of copyeditors and wants to improve the copyediting quality of the country as a whole. For that, he has started an elaborate website (The Art of Copyediting), which has 22 courses offered online.

I was always looking forward to meeting Surit Das. If someone really represented the Bengali intellect to me, it is Surit. He was funny and held the audience in splits when he showed a slide simply named “Pubic Woks Deportment.” I am sure a Bengali wrote it. When he got into copyediting, his first copy almost drove him of out of the profession. He explained how an editor’s life goes, with a great sense of humor. There were many useful tips. But Surit didn’t let out the secrets of saving money. He went on saying how much investment was needed.

Arpana Shandilya, after a lunch that is sure to drive us to drowsiness, gave a presentation on social media for copyeditors. I missed a part of it, but she gave some useful information when I joined the talk a few minutes later.

Then came Bushra Rashid, a very polished and hep copyeditor. Bushra and I were colleagues in two organizations. She is as nice and as warm as she has always been. She gave a forceful presentation on why you should become a member of various editor associations and the benefits you get out of it. It was the most useful presentation of the day for me.

Nilima Vyas would have made a great teacher if she took up that profession. In the alt-text presentation she gave, I almost went back to a classroom in my university. She was clear and succinct, and illustrated the concept very well. I really enjoyed her presentation, which was without a hiccup and very free-flowing. If you ever get a chance, watch that video and you’ll know what I am talking about.

My colleague at a previous organization, Selvin, came up to give a keynote after Nilima. I didn’t recognize him as he is now sporting spectacles. Selvin’s hair has grayed a bit, but his manner has not dimmed in the last nine years we haven’t met. I didn’t know he knew so much philosophy. He gave a clarion call to all the editors to unite against the practice of undercutting prices. Many editors fondly remember his training at Integra where he was the chief.

The sweet Chitra, whom I have always admired for her approach to copyediting, told the stunned audience how she gradually built a business out of copyediting. Many were gaping at her presentation, wondering how they missed doing what she was doing. Many best wishes to her to go further. She was perceptible enough not to fall into the trap of fast editing and competitive pricing (competitive is an euphemism here). She went for niche work and she is now building her business gradually.

Then I, Eashwar, Ujwala, and Lakshmi had a panel discussion on in-house and freelance copyeditors. Eashwar and I had met almost a decade ago when I had started out as a freelancer. He told the story of his starting up, Ujwala was interested in knowing how the freelancers “manage” their work, and Lakshmi gave an overview of how she chooses freelance editors for work. After Ujwala revealed how things go awry when editors miss deadlines, I feel we have to turn a lot professional in our ways. One common concern was lack of talent although enough work is available. I think that is another issue we need to address.

There are capable Indian copyeditors, but as Bushra lamented, we are not visible outside. We need to get out there and tell the world. I think after the publishing markets in the West, we have made a beginning as a services market to come together and raise our stocks. We need to continue this journey.

One final thought about a discussion that happened. Will automation eliminate copyeditors or will artificial intelligence change the way we work? I think the future is getting invented now. I learned on-screen copyediting 20 years ago. And it has bettered editing in many ways. I am sure artificial intelligence will disrupt to the extent whatever is mechanical will go to the machines. But till the Chinese and Japanese learn to write good English and as long as the nonnative world keeps writing more English, we are in demand. Let me say more power to the East European authors as well. This is not to demean them, but because they are not native speakers lacking knowledge about the intricacies and nuances of English, we are there to help them. They will hopefully keep us in business.

Samanth Subramanian’s guide to a day during the Season. On Sriram V’s heritage tours on foot, Samanth says, “The tours wend through old Madras neighbourhoods, and inevitably end with breakfast. Sriram is a fount of anecdotes about the history of both Chennai and Carnatic music, and he never shies away from—indeed, positively lunges towards—the tone of the tabloid: which musician stabbed a colleague in the back, who was in love with whom.”

On the evening, he says, “The old way of deciding which concert to attend—wake up in the morning; scan the day’s listings in the newspaper; toddle over in the evening—is no longer viable. If you want to hear Sanjay Subrahmanyan at the Music Academy, say, or Ranjani-Gayatri (India’s most proficient RaGa) at the Mylapore Fine Arts Club, a spot of queuing in the a.m., perhaps even well-placed connections, may be required to score tickets. Inside tip: Find a concert of Ramakrishnan Murthy, a singer perched on the cusp of the kind of fame that will soon be pulling them in by the throng. Murthy is young but old-school: staunchly classical in what he chooses to sing and the way he sings it, his voice clear and true, his music committed only to transiting from one moment of pure, unfussy beauty to the next.” The full story is here.

#SamanthSubramanian #Seasonjottings

Veejay Sai interviewed the Sangita Kalanidhi designate Ravikiran for the Live Mint.

Ravikiran told Veejay, “My vision, not just for Carnatic music, but our culture as a whole, is that if you are able to tap the talent of young children, there is scope for exponential growth. It would initiate several crores of people into a system. Government and media have a big role to play too. Media has been absolutely silent on our classical arts. It has taken to popular culture more, which is not a problem. But if you see The New York Times, there is space for both the popular and the classical.”

His solid advice: “Attend a full Carnatic katcheri—a full-bench Carnatic concert. If you don’t understand the language, look up the schedule for an instrumental concert.”

#VeejaySai #interviewwithRaviKiran

Chitravina N. Ravikiran was presented the Sangita Kalanidhi M.S. Subbulakshmi award, instituted by The Hindu, by Ilaiyaraaja at The Music Academy. Past Sangita Kalanidhi award recipients A. Kanyakumari and T.V. Gopalakrishnan, the Academy’s president N. Murali and Postmaster General, Chennai region, R. Anand, are also present.  

Photo and caption: From The Hindu.

The Season began on an uppish note when UNESCO conferred the creative city award on Chennai. The city was one among the 64 cities identified by UNESCO. Master storyteller, culture historian and heritage activist Sriram V felt that it needs to be celebrated and dwelt upon the music traditions of the city. Folk music, classical music and street music all have a place in this tradition. Further, film music has also flourished well with influences from Carnatic music and Western music.

#Season #UNESCO #creativecity

Carnatic music is an art form with its complicated grammar and structure and can be acquired only by rigorous practice. Here is a performer and connoisseur Sid Sriram talking about it. He talks in depth about what makes Carnatic music and his favorites, and concludes by saying that, “I reject the notion that Carnatic music is meant only for a niche audience. I also wholly reject the idea that it needs to be diluted or forced into modern contexts for it to be accessible. Granted, it takes a lot of hard work and soul searching to internalise, personalise and express the form’s essence. But, it can be done. And history shows that when it’s done right, the impact can be truly ground-breaking.”

In another perspective, retired IAS officer P.K. Doraiswamy feels raga is the soul of Carnatic music and not lyrics. He is emphatic that “The truth is that rasikaas are indifferent as to whether the song is devotional or secular as long as it is beautiful. There are beautiful Tamil songs of a secular nature like ‘Silambosai ketkudamma’ in Saramathi, ‘Muthamizh solayile moovarai kandenadi’ in Kalyani.”

Charumathi Ramachandran, vocalist, musicologist and writer, wrote that Tamil is the lost language of Carnatic Music, three years ago. She infused a Brahmin and non-Brahmin debate into the politics of language use.

#CarnaticMusic #interpretation

In a gesture that raised many eyebrows, maestro Ilayaraja inaugurated the Music Academy conference and concerts this year. Answering critics, the Music Academy President Mr. N. Murali said that the Academy had in the past invited many who had no knowledge of Carnatic music and it is very appropriate to invite someone who has a wide knowledge about it. It could well lay the road to a practice where a musician or someone from other musical traditions inaugurates the conference and the highnesses preside over the Sadas on January 1.

#MusicAcademy #inauguration

What’s music without food? Canteens are an integral part of major sabhas that the crowd at times gets attracted to the culinary delights rather than searching for musical ecstasy. But this time around thematic events around food have attracted interest of the rasikas.

Two events at least have been covered widely in the press. The Thaligai restaurant hosted thematic series called Amudadhwani, in which a concert performance was held over dinner. Limited seats were available and rasikas had a chance to interact with the artists as well. It was hosted from December 16 to 21.

Puliyogare Travels, founded by Rakesh Ranganathan, is looking at food from a different perspective. There are film screenings, discussions and talks about food to coincide with the Season. Vocalist Sudha Raghunathan will be in conversation with Rakesh at the Folly on December 24 evening.

#Food #TalkoverFood #Season #CarnaticMusic

What can music do to you? It can elevate and make someone feel elated. That someone could not be a normal person but someone with disability. Here is one fan message about Sanjay Subhramanyan’s music by an autistic person. What more do you want as a performer and as a rasika?

#SanjayMusic #madfans #tribute #disabled person

Sanjoy Subramaniam sir concert at Bharat Kalachar Dec 17.

Sankarabharanam

Tamil is loud and bold. A legend at his best😀

Sanjoy is bout of open throated singing , so full of verve and aural treat. 

Mayamalava gowlai one of the wonder ragas, with Maha swaraprastharas In Tulasi dala mulache. Tyagayya’s best composition. We are so pained in our sins many times, that we wash out everything with the pure tulsi water. Paving the path to near all is so engaging and constructing a pyramid like structure in it.😀. Being midway the raga Alapana, is a huge challenge, and that is the true genius Sanjoy sir has. Be it Mantara sthayi to upper Sthayi or floating on a Akara for almost 20 minutes, is a fabulous music. He plays the pitch perfect always, in any pitch😀

He handles his voice deftly as a hero , where raga acts as a prop.be it traversing fro m Kalyani, to sivasakthi, a very unique raga, Bahudari is such a finesse in it# rendition of unnadiye, a GNB gem, which this gem has proved it genius neat presentation. Kalyani, a sampoorna raga, has the quality of royal crown, placed in the throne of Carnatic music, and the one and only justice, in the melody and nuances, has been Sanjoy sir’s singing.A surprise helicopter shot, with a kannad lyrics by the evergreen gem purandaradasa, is his forte.From sivasakthi, a haunting mood, to the sowkhyam mood in Ananda Bhairavi, is stupendous to hear. Anchored Swaras sketches the picture of Anandabhairavi, which was like taking Chakkkara pongal smeared with ghee😀.well, on the whole, I am nowhere any big stalwart to even call this as a review, but a appreciation in my listening 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Love,

Vishal.A 

A music fan of 13 years with a dyslexic and autistic mind

There comes Season. And there is Season Vumboids, a regular feature by the culture historian Sriram V. who speaks his mind. But this time around, Vumboid gave way to It Happened #OneDecemberMusicSeason, which had a fair bit of intrigue and humour.

Sample these and more could be expected.

The ditching mrindangist

Kannan who was friends with the Governor

Much ado about hair

#SriramV #Season #Humour

People talk about nuance, critique the performance, and rate the performer. It was rather unbecoming of some patrons and listeners to frequently get up from the seat, take a bio break or a canteen break and come back during a performance. It happens only at the Music Academy. But what I also saw was the artist giving his or her best despite the audience tantrums. I have heard practitioners say they gauge the audience mood for selecting what to sing. But I am not sure what would go on in their minds on seeing this kind of audience. But what I have found is an invisible barrier between the audience and the performing team. On their side, it is a celebration and elation irrespective of what happens on the other side. They don’t sag or lower their performance just because of audience behaviour is what I have observed. Kudos to the artists. But top draws among musicians don’t suffer this ignominy.

George Eliot said, “the dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.” The secret of death is unlikely to be unravelled by human intelligence. Death is such a leveller that it announces with telling finality the end of life, with no possibility of deeds or misdeeds thereafter, leaving only scattered memories of a lived life. If the departure is early, it sends a shock, which heals with time, or becomes a lingering loss if it happens even at an age where it is usual to say, “What are they going to do even after this age?”

In my family, many have led insignificant lives, if not all, going by public service or contribution to something valuable. This is the case with perhaps majority of the population. The longest living member of our family, my uncle, Anaikalchathiram Krishna Rao Rajagopala Rao, passed away aged ninety-four on April 30, 2017. My aunt, his wife and my father’s eldest sister, Krishnaveni, whom we called Kitty Athai, had predeceased him, aged eighty, seven years ago. My uncle was expected to live longer, maybe for 100 years or more, given his lifestyle and as he did not have even simple disorders like hypertension or diabetes. The curse of the present times—cancer in the form of a malignant cyst in his colon—signalled his final departure, maybe before his time.

He distinctly stood apart from our family elders in deportment and temperament. He didn’t leave any legacy that is going to be celebrated, but he showed all of us who saw him how an individual should structure his or her life according to circumstances. Probably simple life is very hard to live, resisting temptations, desires and spending for pretentious status. He was content with his belongings, never complained about life and consumed news routinely with great interest. The radio was his faithful companion in his last years, as he lost eyesight to glaucoma and his ears growing increasingly faint to sound. But, he never showed any sort of bitterness but displayed a spirit that was full of life in its simple pleasures. He was particularly keen about the weather and kept updates from weather reports in the news.

He was a completely Madras man, born and brought up in the city. He graduated from Loyola, when going to college was considered a privilege. He found a job in Railway Mail Service, which he devoutly discharged until he retired in 1982. The Hindu was so dear to him and if in my early age I understood what The Hindu meant to the people of Madras, it was through him. He had a stellar command over English, which was also special because his vocabulary spanned a vast repertoire of words that included descriptions of simple things that we come across in everyday life. Usually we struggled to get English equivalents. He was an early riser. Although he did not perform rituals, he had a deeper faith, paying annual visits with unfailing regularity to the family god, Lord Narasimha, at Parikkal.

We lived for a decade in a small town on the banks of South Pennar. And during his visits to us, he would ask me to take him to the river for a bath. On one occasion, we trudged all the way to the riverfront, only to see pools of water of varying shapes and depth scattered around on the sand bed. We chose one of the better pools that we thought had enough water for bathing. We grudgingly bathed using cupped hands at times to wet upper parts of the body. Floods in South Pennar are celebrated in Tamil literature as being fast and furious, filling up the river in a blink. But during the time we stayed on, we had seen only streams of water flow amidst a vast sand bed. On some rare occasion, when water flowed shore to shore, it was time when people would gather in the bridge to see waters gushing through the river.

Thinking back on my uncle’s life, I could see distinct features that are astonishing and something from which we could learn. My uncle’s family was big, with eight children. My paternal grandmother was proud of it and used to say, “Tomorrow Kitty can claim that one son lives there, one here, one somewhere North, one deep South.” But it so happened that excepting one son, the rest of the three live only in Chennai, and one son who used to live in Chennai had taken an early leave abode even before my aunt did.

Thrift was practiced in my aunt’s household. But what amused me then and even stuns me now is the spirit with which the couple led their lives. They spoke only of good things that happened, at times exaggerating it, and never complained about hard situations. One particular thing about my aunt was she was glued to the radio in the morning and would tell us tips or titbits that were amusing and informative. They were particularly proud of their lives. That was remarkable and shows character. My uncle never borrowed a single penny and he was able to run the family within his means. He spent wisely and saved money. He was a stickler for discipline in food and habits.

Another trait of my uncle that stood out was his soft and gentle manner of speech. He would crack jokes at times on me, all innocuous ones. I have never heard him speak ill of others or heard others say he spoke ill of someone. Even when my father’s two brothers did not speak to each other for years, he once told me, “What big deal? What are they going to achieve by doing this?” His temperament was astonishing. I had never seen him lose his cool or heard someone say he did. His remarkably understated behaviour was layered with his subtle personality. It still surprises me where he learned these traits from. His humility was one reason why he succeeded in life despite harsh situations.

He maintained cordial relations with all the relatives. The couple rarely missed any important event in the family. My uncle mingled with his next generation with great felicity and ease. He would share things with me that you wouldn’t expect elders would do normally—something like what happened in the family. He was candid and harboured no ill-will. Simplicity, frugality and a rare contentment with what is available marked his life till the end, even when his sons rose in stature and were able to provide more.

I remember when he took me to Madras from Trichy when I was just twelve or thirteen. I was at Trichy for holidays and my father was at Madras. He had come to Trichy to visit one of his daughters who stayed there at that time. The way he put me at ease and struck up conversation is memorable. He pulled my legs many a time and I only enjoyed it as it was light-hearted and never offensive. I never felt that I should be careful not to do anything that annoyed him, as typically young people were afraid of elders. I was just myself and he was okay with it.

I had stayed with my uncle and aunt briefly as I took up a job in Madras in 1997. As my father retired and moved to Madras, we had taken up a house for rent in Nanganallur. I had moved from paper to electronic mode of work. We were editing academic papers on computers. That was a bit of a strain for the eye initially and pink codes in the files added up to our imagery and imagination. Some of my colleagues began to get dreams about those pink codes, blabbering in deep slumber something is wrong and needs to be fixed. It was exciting times though to learn shortcut keys and new things in the publishing world. I did not visit my uncle and aunt for over eight months after I had moved to Nanganallur.

Once he saw me at Central where we had gone for some send off. He simply turned to me and said firmly, “You have not visited us for eight months since you went home from my place.” I felt guilty and embarrassed. I promptly paid a visit later.

I still regret that I did not visit him a few months earlier, despite thinking of it several times. And his ailment and death all happened in a span of two weeks. When I visited him in the hospital, as he lay on bed in excruciating pain with a swollen abdomen, he said, “The pain is unbearable.”

I was hardly ten when my paternal grandmother passed away. Even then, I was inconsolable for a few days. I was one of her favourite grandchildren among nearly two dozen of us. Krish Ashok wrote a moving blog post on the death of his father and said when you hit 40, you will slowly see the passing away of your previous generation, as they hit seventy or eighty and that you have to come to terms with it. In fact, if I make a count of people of the older generation in my family who have passed on in a decade, it’s quite alarming. Some have gone before their time, the important among them my father’s younger brother and one of my paternal aunt’s sons. Then life goes on but you miss the affection of that generation, which was special.

Even in the last month, I had received the shocking news of my another aunt’s son collapsing on a city bus. He had diabetes and a cardiac arrest ended his life instantaneously. Another uncle had two heart attacks in a matter of a week and is surviving on a stent. Even in these days of technology-assisted medicine, the illnesses at times are scary. And reading former Chief Minister J. Jayalalithaa’s medical report only causes unease. Even the public figure and a charismatic leader cannot escape multiple ailments although advances in medicine have made survival and extension of lifetime possible for many conditions for which death was inevitable at least two decades ago. You can come back from death’s door thanks to available medical technology today.

Yesterday (March 7, 2017) turned out to be a bad day. I was interacting with a project manager named Siva for quite a few months now on a few projects. In my interactions, he was gentle, simple, and realistic. He accommodated your view and sought a solution. I had a problem for which we both had to wait and he made no bones about it, realizing that it was out of both our hands. After that, my interactions tapered down and conversations on e-mails was happening as usual for any work situation.

I was reaching him for an update by 11 a.m. and he didn’t pick up the call. Usually, project managers report to work around 11 a.m. and leave by 9 p.m. after answering customer e-mails. I thought he was busy and didn’t disturb him through the day.

As I stepped out, I thought of calling him again and placed a call on his mobile around 5-30 p.m. It was busy for a long time. Then I again called in at 5-45 p.m. This time, a stranger answered the phone. Even then I was under the impression that a network problem has caused the call to land in a wrong number. He asked whom was I reaching out. I told him the number belongs to Siva, my friend. He said that the phone belongs to a person named Prakash who has met with an accident. He asked me if I knew Prakash. I was too confused and didn’t realize my friend’s name was Siva Prakash. It didn’t occur to me to check his signature on e-mail from my mobile phone. The person who answered the phone also said there is an elderly person in a dazed state along with Prakash.

I assumed a lot of other things. In fact, not having contacted Siva for a while, I thought he could have left the company and his mobile would have been given to another person. I was alert enough of the emergency and called up his Group Manager, who didn’t answer my call. I sent out a message to her explaining the situation and asked her to alert Prakash’s friends and relatives immediately. In fact, she called me up thirty minutes later on seeing my message. I asked her if Prakash is part of her team. She said Siva’s name is Siva Prakash and promised to check on his number to ascertain the situation.

I was confident that Prakash will survive because I too had survived two two-wheeler accidents with fractures. Around 9-30 p.m., I received an official mail informing me that Siva is no more. I was shocked beyond words. I couldn’t work for more than two hours. The conversations I had with him and his pleasant voice kept ringing in my ears. It felt strange that I will never get to talk to him again. I didn’t want to probe further, as the mail said everyone is in a state of shock. I then closed the day without much work getting done.

Today’s city edition of The Hindu carried a news item about a motorist getting killed in Anakaputhur strangled by a manja thread. It was my friend Siva who had fallen victim to the menace of this dangerous thread still used illegally despite its ban. It was banned precisely for the same reason that consumed Siva’s life. It had taken too many lives before. Callous people who used it for sport or entertainment have left it open on the road and when it fell on Siva, it immediately slit his throat and took his life. Siva was 40, said the report, and has two young daughters. I could least imagine the state of his father who had survived this accident with minor injuries. It is terrible to see a son in his prime dying before your eyes. The family has lost him when it least expected to. Coming to terms with the tragedy is difficult even for me who had known Siva from a distance and have never met him in person. I could only pray for Siva’s family to gain strength to overcome this loss.

In a strange way, I had been involved in a situation where some help was needed but couldn’t accomplish it effectively. It so happened that my alert proved useful as the office came to know of the situation and took necessary action. I can only console myself saying I was totally helpless as Siva died on the spot. If I had called him in the golden hour where he still was alive and helped him survive the accident, I would have felt grateful to God for making such a thing possible. But that was not to be.

I am involved in the startup ecosystem as an outside observer, carrying stories about entrepreneurs. I have witnessed from close quarters the struggles, the highs and lows, and the final triumph of the entrepreneur. In closed door meetings I have been privy to, discussions were usually on problems to be solved and these largely were concerned with funding, acquisition of talent, managing the new technologies and grasping new developments. And if there was gossip, it was mostly to do with an unreasonable investor and a naïve entrepreneur. Not once the question of women and their harassment came up for discussions.

In the course of my active work as a startup journalist with YourStory, not one woman entrepreneur complained about being subjected to some form of harassment. Uncultured questions such as when are you getting married and are you planning to have a baby might be asked by the investors ostensibly to secure their investments. But rarely have I come across disturbing questions being asked. To be more open, I have never heard sexual favours being asked in exchange of some other favour. In fact, I have heard only voices being raised for equal representation of women in the startup world. It is true that women are a minority in the startup world. But my usual reading was that the startup world welcomes women with open arms than any other systems of work. I was relieved that women are at least safe in the startup world. I also felt that this would enable and encourage more women to take up to startups not only as founders and cofounders but also as employees.

Mahesh Murthy has opened a new chapter in the startup ecosystem, opening a Pandora’s box of sorts. I feel whatever explanation he has given is not compatible with his professional standing as an investor or mentor. He has crossed the line – or the Lakshman Rekha. Maybe so far, women subjected to verbal harassment or other forms of harassment in the startup world have kept quiet and the reports about some startup founders solicited inappropriately (which he chooses to call flirting by mutual consent) by Mahesh Murthy is deeply disturbing. It is also problematic because such incidents are likely to pass off after consumption for their juicy or gossip value without proper investigations. The system lacks a mechanism to deal with such cases. Mostly, the startup founder subjected to harassment has to swallow it and move on. As this report has come above surface and has come into public domain, I feel there is urgent need to frame guidelines or professional code of conduct regarding interactions between an investor and the woman startup founder. Inappropriate behaviour should attract some form of castigation to discourage such behaviour from recurring.

According to Visaka Guidelines laid down by the Hon’ble Supreme Court in 1997,

For this purpose, sexual harassment includes such unwelcome sexually determined behaviour (whether directly or by implication) as:

a) Physical contact and advances;

b) A demand or request for sexual favours;

c) Sexually coloured remarks;

d) Showing pornography;

e) Any other unwelcome physical, verbal or non-verbal conduct of sexual nature.

Where any of these acts is committed in circumstances where-under the victim of such conduct has a reasonable apprehension that in relation to the victim’s employment or work whether she is drawing salary, or honorarium or voluntary, whether in government, public or private enterprise such conduct can be humiliating and may constitute a health and safety problem. It is discriminatory for instance when the woman has reasonable grounds to believe that her objection would disadvantage her in connection with her employment or work including recruiting or promotion or when it creates a hostile work environment. Adverse consequences might be visited if the victim does not consent to the conduct in question or raises any objection thereto.

As it is evident, Visaka Guidelines cover only the workplace and lacks reach. But whoever is subjected to harassment has to undergo several forms of disadvantages.

The Visaka Guidelines have given way to The Sexual Harassment of Women at Workplace (Prevention, Prohibition and Redressal) Act, 2013. Although the term workplace is quite clearly mentioned, whatever happens outside the workplace seems to be outside the ambit of law.

Photo courtesy: A.S. Diwakar

It was a tradition in my maternal household to buy silk sarees only from Co-optex. A part of it continues today. For whatever reason, despite the Nalli, Kumaran, RmKV, Pothys and Kancheepuram, of course, we went to Co-optex to get the main saree for my wife to be worn by her on the day of our wedding that happened a decade and half back. But we got the to-be-gifted silk sarees from other places. The Co-optex showroom, Vanavil, was such a dull place when we went, with poor lighting and unimpressive décor. There were no shoppers but when we said we had come to buy a wedding saree, the salesman turned a bit enthusiastic as if awakened from a long slumber.

Contrast this with the Vanvavil today where Ranjani and Gayatri, the Carnatic vocalist duo, make a visit to choose silk sarees to be worn during the concerts. The lighting is bright, ambience inviting and the décor quite impressive. Once when I just went into buy a cotton towel that was needed quite urgently by a relative, there were shoppers at noon, enthusiastically asking for items, which I guessed was their favourite. The spectacular turnaround owes it to the present Co-optex Managing Director, T.N. Venkatesh, IAS, who was given the posting by the Tamil Nadu government in 2014. He succeeded P. Sagayam, who also did his bit for Co-optex by asking people to wear dhotis and said weavers are sons of the soil needing encouragement. But he hogged limelight and controversy and was eventually transferred.

There was a brief spell of discontinuity when the Election Commission transferred officers prior to the 2016 Assembly elections and Venkatesh was also shunted out of Co-optex. It is heartening that as AIADMK retained power, Venkatesh was given his earlier posting. In fact, the new AIADMK government restored all the previous postings shuffled by the Election Commission citing elections as the reason.

Venkatesh was invited to be the guest on the Uncommon Leader series of programmes hosted by the Madras Management Association, moderated by Avis Viswanathan, happiness coach and creator of what Lakshmi Prathury of INK would call “millionaires of moments”.

Avis started the conversation by saying that Co-optex recorded the highest ever revenue of Rs. 316 crore in 2015-16 under Venkatesh’s leadership and as collector of Karur, the latter had done impressive work, especially for disabled children. Venkatesh’s record as an IAS officer is blemishless and one of making a difference, all too quietly.

Venkatesh recalled his inspiration for taking up the civil services. He had visited an uncle, who was an IAS officer in Ramanathapuram, when he was ten. He saw from very close quarters what IAS meant and what his uncle did. He was determined to become an IAS officer from that time onwards. He chose economics and psychology for graduation keeping IAS examinations in mind and kept preparing for it as long as he can remember. He recalls a moment of ecstasy. It is a tradition for new IAS officers, after training in Mussoorie, to have a meeting with the President of India and the President would hand over the appointment orders. When President K.R. Narayanan gave him the appointment order in 1998, it gave him goosebumps. The President wished Venkatesh, “May you spend a long time in the service of people of Tamil Nadu”. Venkatesh felt he realized a part of the President’s wish by serving Co-optex. Venkatesh was allotted the home state of Tamil Nadu during cadre allotment, which he considers as another blessing, as it is normally difficult to get the home state.

From 2005 to 2012, Co-optex had accumulated losses of Rs. 85 crore and was on the brink when Venkatesh took over in 2014. An NGO was tasked with studying customer behaviour of people who buy from Co-optex and what they expect. The MD says he uses the results from that survey to devise strategies. Now, Co-optex has not only wiped off the losses but has also come back strongly with retail sales recording an all-time high. From a presentation deck, it was observed that two-thirds of sales come from silk and one-third from cotton. The revenue of Rs. 316 crore in 2015-16 is the highest for any co-operative in the country, prides the Co-optex MD.

Tamil Nadu has the highest number of handloom weavers and that’s why the first National Handloom Day was celebrated in Chennai, with the Prime Minister Narendra Modi presiding over the function. “Personally, I like handwovens,” said Venkatesh and asked the audience to prefer handwovens as they are nice on the person and also ensures continued livelihood for the weavers. A unique initiative of Co-optex won praise from the Prime Minister. A weaver identity tag is attached to the saree woven by them, which also has their photograph. At the time of releasing the saree, the Prime Minister remarked, “I think we need to do this in Varanasi as well.” Venkatesh said the Varanasi weavers would soon have the identity displayed in sarees they weave.

Among the challenges that were listed to turnaround Co-optex in the presentation deck, one was certainly ambience. Although Co-optex had good officers who had put in 30 to 35 years, most of the departments did not “talk” to each other. His first task was to integrate the departments and set priorities.

Co-optex has showrooms in 16 states and weavers are spread across 23 districts in Tamil Nadu. The MD said Co-optex has 1.5 lakh weavers under its fold, which is the highest for any co-operative in the country. Another initiative of Venkatesh was to bring organic cotton into the Co-optex fold, making it the first co-operative in the country to do so. As a result, there are 150 looms being run only to produce organic cotton sarees. To popularise the fabric and to impress the weavers, Venkatesh literally went from weaver to weaver, promising to procure 100% of what they produced. And it worked very well.

Another strength of Co-optex has been conducting exhibitions in several states. As this practice was discontinued before Venkatesh took over, he not only revived it but made it an event that his staff always were enthused about. Co-optex has recorded revenues of Rs. 6.40 crore so far from 90 exhibitions this year. It held 75 exhibitions in 2015-16, garnering Rs. 5.15 crore. Wearing a shirt and a mundu, he turned a surreptitious salesman in Cochin and sold the highest number of organic sarees. The customers didn’t know MD was the salesperson but were pleasantly surprised when they came to know about it by end of the day.

“I had depressing and disillusioned moments as well,” said Venkatesh recalling his two-and-half years in Co-optex. But when he made a presentation to the late Chief Minister J. Jayalalithaa emphasizing the need for establishing boutiques, it was sanctioned. There are three boutiques now, two in Chennai and one in Coimbatore. The exclusive Home Tex boutique in T. Nagar has a nice ambience, where the beds and living room are recreated so that the customers get a feel of how the fabric would look like in their homes. After the inauguration of boutiques, cash sales are up by 20%.

Actually, the MD has redone his chamber at Egmore, with his favourite olive green paint and displaying the pictures of Co-optex’s exclusive weaves and products on the walls. “The problem is people who come don’t want to leave,” smiled Venkatesh.

Co-optex has constraints in advertisement budgets and sanctions. Venkatesh had found Facebook marketing handy. From 2,000 odd likes when he took over, the Facebook page of Co-optex has more than 10,000 likes now. Also www.cooptex.com was launched on December 25, 2014, which has enabled international sales. Co-optex also sells on Flipkart, Snapdeal and Craftsvilla, expanding its sales reach. Venkatesh recalled an Assamese girl studying in Poona who always gifted Co-optex sarees to her mother on the latter’s birthday. She informed the MD that she was able to get the saree of her mother’s choice through click of a button last year.

Co-optex has an international presence as well, and the MD was recently in Germany and Belgium to promote sales in those countries.

Lauding and awarding the employees has meant the morale of the workforce has remained high. Venkatesh remembered what a senior officer told him as he entered IAS, “It is nice to be important but it’s important to be nice.” He makes it a point to praise employees who do good work, encouraging others to do good work to earn his praise. He has an open door policy and takes suggestions from all levels of employees. He says staying close to the customer and standing on the showroom talking to them helps him a lot in making right decisions.

To encourage weavers, they were taken on weaver’s trails to Orissa, Maharashtra and Madya Pradesh to help them earn on-the-ground experience from other weavers. He has also taken customers on a trail of handloom clusters. He concluded with a proud statement: that one of the weavers from Salem won the award for Silk Dhoti in the Handloom Day celebrations this years at New Delhi. Venkatesh feels it is only a beginning and more will follow in the future.

Venkatesh says he brings in passion in any task he undertakes and that’s the secret of his success. Also, he says time management is important to achieve what you have aimed for, as many people in the past have demonstrated that time management is crucial to achieve extraordinary heights in life.