JOB CRITERIA


Readingabout a girl getting a job in a cement factory because she was a good ‘mixer’, set me thinking about probable criteria for the various jobs.

Should a  worker in rubber factory be ‘bouncy’?

 Should a worker in electric shop be ‘wiry’?

 Should one in a Champagne store be ‘effervescent’?

 Should one in Solar cells be ‘sunny’?

 Should one in tourist department be ‘out going’?

Should one in elastic fasteners be ‘flexible’?

Should one in security be ‘outstanding’?

 Should one in road construction ‘level headed’?

 Should one in Oil wells ‘slick’?

 Should one in silverware be ‘polished’?

 Should one working off shore be ‘calm’?

 Should one in refrigerators be ‘cool’?

 Should one  in boilers be ‘hot’?

 One in gum factory ‘sticky’?

 One in spring factory ‘resilient’?

 One in telephones ‘communicative’?

 One in automobiles ‘self motivated’?

 One in suitcases ‘accommodative’?

 The list is endless.

Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments

GRANNY GOES ON AIR!


The latent actor in me had always been hankering for an opportunity to express the minimal histrionic talent I had been endowed with. But the roving life of a Defense Service officer’s wife would hardly let me develop roots enough to make my mark on the local art scene. So, when my husband got posted to Bangalore prior to his early retirement, first thing I did was to apply for an audition to All India Radio (AIR) Bangalore in the drama section.

In due course, I was called for an audition test. I was asked to read a dramatic piece, a tongue twisting bit of classic prose, a play script with an unseen voice providing the cue and finally to sing a song.

After some days, I got a letter saying that I had been selected and placed in the B category (A second rate actor, no less!) However, I had no complex about it because, even as an also-ran I would be hobnobbing with all the top artists of Kannada theatre.

Unfortunately, by the time I got my first contract, I had already enrolled myself in B.Ed course as a full time day scholar. In the hectic academic schedule, it was impossible to think of absenting myself from College for 3 days’ rehearsal and a day’s recording every time. So, I had to request AIR to defer the offer.

Later, when I had little more time at my disposal, I informed them of my willingness to accept roles.

This time, the contract they sent me was for a long, classy play which would be broadcast in the one and half hour slot on Thursday night. But, this time, I was pat in the middle of a baby sitting pact with my daughter! She and her husband had planned to go to Srinagar for 3 weeks for my niece’s wedding cum sight seeing trip, leaving baby Shriram with me. I had least expected that I would be getting a plum contract from AIR during the same period.

Since asking AIR to defer a second time would mean ringing the death knell to my radio career, I requested my sister-in law Rekha to babysit for a couple of hours on the rehearsal days at her place.
On the second day of the rehearsal, there was an annual death ceremony in the family which was being conducted in one of the mutts which she had to attend. I was expected to go there after my rehearsal.

So, when baby Shriram’s other set of grandparents, who were missing their grandchild badly, came to my place to see their grandson, they found the house locked! Puzzled, they proceeded to Rekha’s place which was close by, but found it also locked!! On being told that the whole family was at the ‘shraddh’ they came to the mutt and found their precious ‘prince’ lying on a dirty mat on the floor and the caretaker granny nowhere in sight !!! I just cannot imagine what their thoughts must have been when they were told that the grandmother was at the radio station rehearsing.

Anyway, after three days of rehearsal, came the day of recording. We had been told that it would take a whole day. To leave the baby with just Rekha the whole day was not fair on my part. But, I could not think up any other way to manage. Luckily Rekha sportingly offered to come to AIR with the baby. So, we packed the baby’s bottles and our lunches and left for the radio station by an auto rickshaw.

The All India Radio station, unlike the single roomed studios of the FM stations of today, was (and still is) housed in a spacious, imposing colonial type of bungalow with a huge lawn in front with a thick canopy of tall, old trees.

Rekha spent the whole day on the lawn and the baby too enjoyed the outdoor freedom. By evening the recording was duly completed.

It was a time when Doordarshan had just made its advent in Bangalore. Though people were disappointed that I asked them to listen to a play on the radio and not to see me on TV, I had a thrilling moment when the names of the actors were announced at the end of the play.

The play, an adaptation from a Malayalam one was quite a successful one. To this day, it remains in their archives and is brought out once in a while to be re-broadcast.

Thus thanks to Rekha’s co operation and generosity, I had my debut in AIR. But, my radio career , like other things, tapered off after a couple of years when my profession of teaching took precedence over my hobbies.

Posted in Uncategorized | 16 Comments

I CREATED A BOOK!


‘Creating’ a book? ‘Write’ ‘Print’ ‘Publish’ were the words I was familiar with, but ‘Creating’ a book? Well, anyway that’s how my new publishers referred to the process.

I would write blogs to newspapers, magazines (print as well as ‘e’). People would read them and give their comments. When I had enough bulk, I would compile them into books. Thus my first three books were published by a publisher in Kolkata who was known for encouraging beginners. He was justifiably proud that most of the work in the books was hand made__ the hand-operated press, the hard binding with a South Indian handloom saree, the calligraphy etc. Each book would be sent for proof reading only twice by speed post (in amateur and quixotic cases like mine, three times). Though he took his own time over it, the final product would be a classic one worthy of any library or coffee table.

Unfortunately, by the time my 4th book was ready for printing, the old gentleman had left this world and I had to look for a different one. Though his family was continuing the business, their marketing was a niche affair, whereas I was keen to test my mettle in the open market. I knew that none of the ‘top drawer’ publishers would accept my work, it being an already published material .But still, I was on the look out for one at the risk of being told off as a ‘vanity publishing author’.

At that time, one of my friends (the editor of an e-mag to which I had been contributing) published her first novel through a self publishing forum. This was an IT organization with a very well designed website where in every detail about publishing was given and all the FAQs (Frequently Asked Questions) had been answered very well. I thought I would try my luck with them. Since it was a ‘Do it yourself’ type of job, the question of approving or not approving my script did not arise.

There was an option between doing all the things myself (according to their specifications) and of giving them the contract to do the job on a piecemeal basis. As for the editing of the script, I took the whole responsibility on myself. But, for interior formatting and designing the cover, I gave them the contract, the latter being developed on my own idea. Every bit of the business was carried through e mail. Telephone transaction was totally discouraged.

First, I was asked to install a drop box. Being a total ignoramus in the field of computer jargon, it took quite sometime for me to master the technique and install one in my computer. In the middle I had even given up in frustration and had asked them to send me the material for correction by way of old fashioned attachments. (But, I am glad that they did not listen to my request). After installing, I found that nothing was dropping into the drop box. Next day, I learnt that it was because the lesson was only for installing it. The uploading was done the next day and then on the job was so easy that even a child could manage it.

As for the proof reading, one did not need to be a professional proof reader, like the one who leaves the mysterious coded signals all over the manuscript. The file they had sent me could not be tampered with. But there was a pro- forma in my drop box where in I would mention the page no., line no. and the correction in a table. Hey presto, by evening, the required corrections would be done in the script and sent for my approval. What a contrast to my previous books! For this book I had the script and the cover sent to me 6 times patiently for all the corrections. After doing the editing to my satisfaction, I dropped it in the drop box thinking that my job was over. That’s where I was wrong.

They asked me to upload the file. Before that, I was asked that if it were ‘pdf’, not to send any corrected file but otherwise to send the corrected file. Oh, God! The jargon again. What was pdf? How should I know which one to upload? The names of the files appearing on ticker tape were all new to me. In the meantime, my technical expert, grand daughter Aparna dropped in. I asked her what pdf was. She told me that those are the files, which unlike those of ‘word’ could not be edited on the spot. I surmised then that the files I was getting were pdf ones and hence I didn’t need to correct the last file again. (Probably it was meant for people who did their own formatting). Then I clicked on some file and switched on ‘upload’. Something was getting uploaded. For all you know it was perhaps my first unedited manuscript! But, as luck would have it, the uploading which was going on very, very slowly packed up once for all. I was so desperate. First of all, I did not know whether I was uploading the right file (In between, I had got a message saying the name of my file had been changed ! Changed from what to what? Heaven knows). Secondly, the speed of my broadband was not enough for the high tech job.

So, at one point, everything stood still. No one to advise me as to what was happening. When I rang up my friend for advice, she said she did not remember doing any such thing as uploading. Oh, God, oh, God, these modern high tech improvements.

In sheer helplessness, I just sat and recited the 100 and odd shlokas (verses) of Vishnu sahasranamam. By the end of it my mind calmed down. I said why not write to the publishers and ask for their help. Even if it were to be paid for, I was prepared for it, rather, I was ready to dip into Ramu’s bottomless pocket.

So, I wrote a pathetic e mail to them saying that I was an old, arthritic woman of 74 years, with no technical help at home and that I was feeling absolutely helpless to do what they asked me to do. Very sweetly, they e mailed back saying that they would do it for me from their end and within 2 hours, my book was ready to go for printing! (They did not charge me extra)

When the printing was over, I asked them to send me one copy first (hangover of the traditional method). I found it good and passed it. Then only I ordered for the first bulk consignment of 52 books (Why 52? More than 50 meant discount). Incredibly enough, the whole thing from A to Z had not taken more than three months!

To my luck, this consignment which was to come from Mumbai, got stuck in an accident/traffic jam and arrived only 24 anxious hours later. As it is, our antiquated method of sending money through checks was causing quite a bit of delay and now this.

Anyway, once the consignment reached me, I started selling my ‘creations’. Since the publishing company was doing only ONLINE marketing, I was left to do all the OFFLINE marketing, a totally new field for me –one who did not know the difference between In-voice, Inner voice or Active voice or Passive voice. I am still learning.

Posted in Uncategorized | 7 Comments

THE LAND OF KANCHENJUNGA


The visuals shown on TV after the recent devastating earthquake in Sikkim took me back to 1964 when I visited it and the pleasant memories I had of the place.
We were then in New Delhi. My sister’s husband was working in Border Roads Organisation (BRO) and had been posted to Gangtok, Sikkim at that time. My sister was also staying with him with their son as it was a family station. ‘Gang Talk’ is the anglicized pronunciation. The locals_ Lepchas, Nepalis and Bhutias pronounce it as GGUNN- ThThok.
Till then I had not seen the Himalayas and so had nourished a deep desire to visit the same. So, I took this opportunity to visit my sister for the Dussera holidays. Since Ramu had expressed his inability to accompany me, I decided to go alone with my three kids- one not yet six, the other not yet four and the last one not yet one year.
I was to go by Grand Trunk Express up to Siliguri where my brother –in law was to meet us and take us to Gangtok by a minibus. Since I was travelling without the husband and that too to a non-native place, I was not entitled for first class fare. So, I began my journey with the three kids in a two tiered second class compartment accompanied by lot of bedrolls and blankets to face the October winter in the Himalayas.
During the journey, I had put my sleeping baby on the upper berth and the other two were asleep on the lower berths and I was sitting on a bedroll between the two lower berths talking to a fellow passenger. Suddenly she asked me, “Who is this sitting behind you?” I turned back and saw that it was my baby sitting cross – legged stoically like a rishi! I don’t know how he happened to come down from the upper berth and ensconce himself so comfortably down on the luggage! Probably he knew that he was heading to the land of lamas.
At Siliguri, I got down from the train like Santhana Lakshmi, a baby in my arms and two more holding my hands. My brother- in -law took charge of the luggage and we all got into the minibus.
The journey from Siliguri to Gangtok was a scenic one where the trees on the slopes were so tall that I could not see their top or the bottom. But, due to the landslides (a common occurrence in that part of the country), a journey which should have taken much lesser time took whole day and it was dark when we reached the outpost in Gangtok (In any case, it gets dark very early in the hills). From there, we went by a jeep and reached home. Home? We still had to negotiate a steep flight of steps carved into the hill slope to reach home.
Once we reached home, we had very hot water baths, ate very hot food and retired under the heavy comforters in a room where a metallic wood burner (like a boiler) on stand provided us the warmth in the night. While we all slept for 12 hours, my not-yet-four son slept non stop for 36 hours!
Next morning, as I came out, I saw the divine spectacle of the glorious Kanchenjunga peak bathed in the golden morning light in the distance. One gets to see this sight only for a couple of hours of the day, after which it gets hidden in the cloudy cover.
Infested with leeches Sikkim is a quaint land. The water supply to the house was in relay by a series of split bamboos tied to each other. The town was permeated with a smell which I was told came from the natives chewing on the dry raw yak meat just as our people chew paan.
We saw all the touristy places including Tashi-ling, the seat of government, the palace of the king Thondup Namgyal who had an American wife Hope Cook, the Buddhist monastery sonorous with the chanting of Lamas, the Himalayan handicrafts Centre, the orchid garden and of course the market place.
My brother- in- law took us by jeep to Darjeeling and Kalimpong. I got to see the gorgeous Teesta river which I had missed on our Siliguri-Gangtok journey due to its being dark.The pleasure of drinking pure,cool water directly from a mountain spring is just incomparable.
As for my sister’s social circle, I did not get to meet many of them. When my beautiful sister told them that her younger sister was visiting them, the expectations of the bachelor officers of BRO went soaring up, I believe. But when she told them that I was visiting with my three kids, none of them showed much interest in meeting me!!!
After a glorious 12-day Himalayan holiday, we.went back to Delhi.

Posted in Uncategorized | 5 Comments

IT’S HERE !


IT’S HERE!
Hi, dear everybody,
My 4th book ‘Colors’ is out. It is a print book of humorous blogs, self- published through pothi.com. It has 194 pages and is priced at MRP Rs 250 + shipping.(subject to discounts).Those who are interested in buying from me may contact me at:

vimalarm@ gmail.com or wingramu@ bsnl.in.

Those who wish to buy from pothi.com can write to pothi.com directly. (Those who have already booked with me need not repeat the order)
Those who are from outside India can contact pothi.com and the books will be shipped to them directly at a reasonable rate.

The link for direct purchase of books is as follows:

http:// pothi.com/pothi/book/vimala-ramu-colors
After reading the book, do not forget to enter your review in pothi.com

About the book
“Colors” is a collection of blogs from various websites contributed to by the author. The predominant mood in these blogs (‘mindless writing’ according to some) is one of humour. The kind of laughter generated here may not be that of the side splitting, stress busting types of a Comedy show or a Laughter club. Nevertheless, the simple real life episodes portrayed here may succeed in bringing a smile to the lips of the reader by their word play if not by the actual humour of the situation.

Posted in Uncategorized | 12 Comments

WHOSE ROAD IS IT ANYWAY?


It is universally believed that the road belongs to all the citizens, tax paying or otherwise. But, the concept of where one’s house ends and the general road begins is a matter of contention.

In developed countries, the right to use the road comes with certain duties. Apart from not littering the road, the person residing in the house right next to the road has an obligation to look after the bushes and shrubs on the sidewalk in front of his house; it means his responsibility is to see that the shrub is properly trimmed and weeded, (though watering may be done by the driver driving the city council tanker). No one has the freedom to stick stickers as they like on pillars, posts, trees and walls. Those who take the dogs out on the road, are supposed to take them on a leash, make them sit while people pass by so that they (passers by) are not scared by any unpredictable behaviour on the part of the dog. As for dirtying the road, the owner is supposed to carry a scoop and a plastic bag to put the poop in, to be disposed off later along with their own garbage.

But here, in our country, people are too well aware of their rights but conveniently forget their duties.

First of all, there is a strip outside right next to the compound wall (where the drains are covered) which is meant for general pedestrian use. But people keep potted plants and grow mini gardens (sometimes fencing in the area too) forcing the pedestrians to walk on the roads which is highly risky in the present state of traffic.

The idea of covering the drains thought up by the City Corporation has been helpful in parking the cars and other vehicles, sparing the roads for moving vehicles. In our house, we had thought of this even before the Corporation did. But, we only realized later that by spending for the granite slabs and the labour out of our own pocket, we only helped our neighbors and their guests. For the lazy drivers, even if the space in front of their house is available for parking, they find it always easy to park in front of our house, more so with a tree providing the shade, sometimes from morning till evening. Once one of our neighbours had left his new car in front of our house for three full days as he was stuck in an outstation friend’s place. Good for him that he collected it before we reported it to the police.
I have also noticed a peculiar trait in our neighbours’ visitors (like contractors, masons etc) which makes them think that they are being extremely well mannered in not parking their vehicles in front of their boss’s house. No such inhibitions while parking in front of our house. Thank God, the gate and driveway are spared.

Abroad, the owners are fined heavily if their cars are parked in wrong slots. I also appreciate the fact that in Far East, people are allowed to book cars only if they can show a patch of parking space available to them-rented or owned.

Well, coming to the dogs, very rarely the dogs are taken with a leash. Once a middle aged lady came running and hid in our house as she was dead scared of the leashless dog that was being taken on the road.

As for the twice a day ritual of taking dogs out, Vasudhaiva kutumbakam , all houses are theirs. The dogs might get the urge to poop anywhere and everywhere. Very rarely one sees a person like my daughter–in law, who had trained the dog to pee in their bathroom on the first floor and poop on the terrace.

In this connection, I may report a conversation between two gentlemen—a house owner and a dog owner. The dog owner was as usual taking the dog for its morning ritual without a leash. The dog started settling in front of the house owner’s house to do the job.
H.O– Sir, please take your dog further up. We cannot stand the stink later.
D.O– But, this is a public road. You cannot object. Moreover, what will you do if a stray dog comes and does it?
H.O.– I will take a stone and throw it at him and drive him out.
D.O—How can you do such a thing? You cannot stop these things on a public road.
H.O—In that case, tomorrow you might come and squat in front of my house yourself to do the job. You mean to say I have no right to stone you out?

By then the dog had finished his job and the offending party walked off, none the worse for the exchange.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

METAMORPHOSIS IN REVERSE


In the olden days, many people had their own cows and buffaloes to take
care of their dairy requirement. Still, a milkman was very much a part of the
village or town scene.

First, we had the milkman leading the cow or the buffalo by a rope and
milk the animal right in front of our house. For this he would bring his own
vessel. But he would show it to us to prove that the vessel was indeed empty
and did not contain any smuggled water. He would start milking only after
we gave the ok. He would then measure out the frothy, pleasantly warm milk
into our vessel. It was a different matter that, though the milk was not
adulterated, the volume of the milk would go down once the froth and the
temperature went down.

Next came the ‘bhaiyya’s who would bring pre-milked milk in their huge
cans tied to their cycle carriers. Though there was no problem of foam, these
men were known to dilute the milk generously from the roadside taps
depending on the demand. A daily squabble between him and the housewife
was a regular feature. One of the ‘bhaiyya’s used to walk in directly into my
kitchen, pour the measured milk into any vessel available and push off. This
would lead to quite a few awkward situations as I had just then been
married!

Then came the private dairies with delivery boys who would supply milk
from containers equipped with taps. Though there would be no adulteration,
there was the problem of foam created by the rich release.

Finally came the Government dairies (followed by private ones) supplying
pure milk in sachets with the date printed on them. Even these had been
rumored to be tampered with syringes but with reliable agents taking over, the rumor died a natural death. Modern children are so used to this source of milk that many of them do not even know that a cow/buffalo is the actual
source of milk and not the sachets. This milk would be delivered at our
doorstep by a person employed by the agent. These milk routes would be
sometimes undertaken by educated persons holding other jobs and they
would be doing this only as a side job and consequently would be very
punctual.

Our milkman was a cheerful bachelor who was also an Insurance agent.

When he came to deliver milk, he had a spring in his step, his cycle horn
would honk merrily and he would exchange greetings on festival and other
special days. If we did not by any chance respond to the repeated honks of his cycle horn, he would come inside, ring the doorbell and hand over the
milk. Even his leave of absence would be intimated to us with a panache; he
would write down the ‘off’ days on a chit of paper carrying his Insurance
agent rubber stamp When he went on leave, he would go happily and return
even more happily. Later, as his days of absence grew more, he outsourced
the job to ‘boys’. I got to know that his increased visits to the village were
due to the fact of his getting engaged to be married.

One day, he brought us his wedding invitation. His bride was a college going girl who would not join him in Bangalore till she finished her
education.

I noticed that he continued to be happy going home but would
understandably be a bit depressed when he came back.

One day I asked him if his wife’s examinations were over and that if she would be joining him in Bangalore. He responded in a funny, half despairing
tone, “No, she has a baby now.”

So, his absences and outsourcings continued, more than ever. One day he
took all the ‘boys’ also home– leaving us in a lurch; the occasion for it being
the naming ceremony of the second baby!

Now our delivery man has become surly and snappy, going round with
a permanent sulk. His step no longer has a spring. Instead, his whole
demeanor and behaviour reveal a sort of impatience. If you are not there
with the first apologetic honk of a horn, you will go milkless that day. He
couldn’t care less. No greetings are exchanged on Divali and New Year’s
day.

I am hoping that soon his wife and children join him and they lead a happy
life in Bangalore. Is it too much to expect a cheerful face first thing in the
morning, if not a big smiley?

Moreover, what would be his role if we revert back to the glass bottles,
to avoid plastic?

Posted in Uncategorized | 8 Comments