Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Peacock Flower Shrub - beautiful plant

Peacock Flower, Pride of Barbados, Dwarf Poincinia, Mexican Bird of Paradise are all common names of "Caesalpinia pulcherrima'.  In Kannada it is called ಕೆಂಜಿಗೆ [kenjige].  But I never knew any of these names during my school days, from where my memory of this little tree-like shrubby plant starts.  See this picture of 2011 and notice the compound wall in the background.  During my days there in the 1960s all along that compound wall were several of these shrubs, which were looking beautiful. 


The people you see in the foreground were all in the same class and we had gathered there at the First Alumni Meet of Christ the King Convent [2011]. What a grand and thrilling occasion it was, as many old mates were seeing each other after 41 years.  We were children again! We were together from Class 1 till 7.  

Among other highly nostalgic memories many of us recalled that row of  Peacock Flower plants. In our smaller classes, we were plucking the leaves and buds from the drooping tips of slender branches.  I later learnt in College Botany that it was called 'inflorescence'.



That part.  
Why did we pluck?  Because, there was a funny 'belief' among the kids that if this was kept pressed in our school books for some days, it would turn into a lovely little kitten!!  Most of us remembered how we used to do keep it in the book with a mantra "Gulteria gulteria, give me a kitten". We knew that plant as 'Gulteria'.  In fact in Hindi, it is 'Guletura'.

It was my favourite plant also.  For some reasons that I could not think of at that tender age I used to look at it often. It was most probably for its neatness in the flower and bud arrangement and even the compound leaves.

Later wherever I saw this, I could not help extending my glance and reminiscing those days. 

In my workplace campus also there are a few planted at strategic spots so that they stand out against the architecture.  I think it was from one of these I got seeds in 1999 or so.  I had moved over to our ancestral house in 1998 where I could have at least three of these growing along our own compound wall.  It was something like a dream-come-true. 


In ten years I had grown 3 of these and other shrubs to look like that [above]. 2008 photo.  Will continue with this short story after you see some of the pictures of the flowers I had taken in their full glory.




 I had 3 varieties.  Red-yellow...


Pink-yellow.... 


...and yellow.


The yard used to look like this at the time of property division in 2008.   I used to call it as 'green tunnel'.


With the other portion of the house being literally divided and most of my gardening area gone to that portion, this narrow yard was the only suitable space to pursue my gardening.  So, the only option left was to chop down all the shrubby plants I had grown for about 8 years.


Simultaneously while renovation work went on, I had slowly shifted some plants to this side after completely removing the roots also. 


You saw a long shot of our house up there.... now it became like this, after the house got ready and white-washed.


My new-look garden did not last long.  In 2010, we planned a small new house in the place where the tiled structure just behind our big house was.  The last surviving Peacock Flower plant was in jeopardy. Seen above.  It was in the corner of the plot and had grown quite tall.  [Below]


This was the start - the axing of it to make way for the new house.


Basement diggers take a short break at where roots of my last favourite Peacock Flower plant had grown.


Now, with all the old plants gone, but two [another two stories], my garden shrunk in area....

I miss the lovely plant as much as the Rose-ringed parakeets - they were very fond of the raw seeds.



The Sunbirds too relished the nectar... not to speak of several butterflies and bees.  
I continue to cherish the memory of bringing the plucked part home to make a kitten! 

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Dinakar Desai, the poet and me

Note: Those who know Kannada will enjoy this post more.


I was not named after Dinakar Desai, but people remembered him through my name! 
Read on, you will come to know.  First I must brief about the great man.

The name of Dinakar Desai  [click for Wiki link] was on every Kannadiga's lips, esp. during the 1970s and 80s when Kannada magazines and periodicals carried his four-line limericks [ಚುಟುಕ].  These limericks were extremely popular for their beauty, simplicity, relevance, crispness, and meaningfulness. In fact, Desai is considered as ಚುಟುಕ ಬ್ರಹ್ಮ [chutuka brahma - creator of limericks]. This became his 'signature format' which other poets followed later. 

The topics for his limericks ranged from current affairs to politics and politicians or about life or just about anything which everyone easily understood.  He coated reality with a subtle touch of humour. That became his style loved by thousands of readers.  He has written thousands such limericks which were published in many pages of Kannada magazines for many years.

Desai lived between 1909 and 1982, was a poet, educationist, writer and political activist.  
 Kamat's Potpourri  [some info here].

Regarding the selection of topics, Desai himself wrote in his inimitable style:

ನಾನು ಬರೆಯುವುದೆಲ್ಲ ನಡೆದ ಸುದ್ದಿ. 
ಇದಕೆ ಸಾಕೆನಿಸುವುದು ಸಾಮಾನ್ಯ ಬುದ್ದಿ. 
ಸಾಮಾನ್ಯ ಬುದ್ದಿ ಇದ್ದವೆರೆಷ್ಟು ಹೇಳು?
ಹೇಳದ್ದಿದರೆ ಒಳಿತು. 
     
He also says,

ನಾ ಬರೆದ ಚುಟುಕಗಳಿಗುಂಟು ಆಧಾರ. 
ಇವು ಜೀವನದ ಅನುಭವದ ಸಾರ.

Another quadruplet reveals his humility:

ನಾ ಬರೆದ ಚುಟುಕಗಳು ವಿಪರೀತ
ಶೇಕಡ ತೊಂಬತ್ತು ಹೊಡೆಯುವುವು ಗೋತ
ಉಳಿದ ಹತ್ತರ ಪೈಕಿ ಏಳೆ೦ಟು ಸತ್ತು
ಒಂದೆರಡು ಬದುಕಿದರೆ ಅವು ಮಾತ್ರ ಮುತ್ತು.

...which means, "My chutukas are too many, nearly 90% are a flop.  Of the remaining, atleast seven to eight will die and if the remaining one or two survive they will be the real gems." 

For one who did not like real poetry in college, these used to impress me. My father used to subscribe to various magazines as reading books was an important pastime before the advent of computers.  Desai's limericks were published in ಸುಧಾ and ಮಯೂರ particularly.

Through him, I would also get a free suffix of  'Desai' whenever I answered my name.  There would be that instant reaction 'Dinakar Desai'!!  I felt so happy with that.   It was better than someone rhymed my name for some teasing fun as 'Dinakara Emmekara' - 'ದಿನಕರ ಎಮ್ಮೆಕರ '  [ಎಮ್ಮೆ = buffalo].  I used to enjoy both, anyhow! 

I could not believe that this suffixing even went in print!! I was playing cricket for Mysore Zone at Tumkur in 1983.  Someone from our team was scoring in the book and in the evening when the press reporter came to collect the match scores, he was shown our score book.  There it was, the scorer had written my name as 'Dinakar Desai'!! The next day, it came in ಪ್ರಜಾವಾಣಿ newspaper with the 'Desai' suffix because I had also put up a good peformance!
See clipping below - underlined in red.  Mysteriously, the second day's report had deleted the suffix!  .


The original Dinakar Desai had died in 1982 and as the 1980s went through, his name also waned with the public because magazines stopped printing his quadruplets. Thirty years on, I wonder if the newer generation has heard of him at all!  But his contribution to the literary world was so immense that a 'Dinakar Desai Award' came into being after his death.
But I'll be there anyway....

Here is my silly little rhymer on my cousin Subbu:

ನಮ್ಸುಬ್ಬು 
ಇವನ ಹೆಸರು ಸುಬ್ಬು,
ಬಲು ಚೆಂದ ಇವನ ಹುಬ್ಬು,
ಆದರೆ ಇವನ ಹಲ್ಲು ಕೊಂಚ ಉಬ್ಬು,
ಇವನ ಬಾಯಂತೂ ಬಲು ಗಬ್ಬು. 

ನಮ್ಸುಬ್ಬುವಿಗೆ ಇಲ್ಲ ಕೊಬ್ಬು,
ಅವರಪ್ಪ ಬೆಳೆದಿದ್ದ ಕಬ್ಬು,
ಇವರ ಮನೇಲಿಲ್ಲ ಬಾತ್ ಟಬ್ಬು,
ನಮ್ಸುಬ್ಬುವಿಗೆ ಓದಲಾಗಲಿಲ್ಲ ಬೀ-ಲಿಬ್ಬು. 

ಅವನ ಬೈಸ್ಕಲ್ಲ್ಗಿತ್ತು ಹಬ್ಬು,
ಎಡವಿ ಮಾಡ್ಕೊಂಡ ಅಬ್ಬು,
ಅಬ್ಬುವಿಗೆ ಮಾಡ್ತಿದ್ದ ರಬ್ಬು,
ಇವನೇ ನಮ್ಸುಬ್ಬು. 

~ ಕೊ. ರಾ. ದಿನಕರ 

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Deepavali festival of bygone days

Every October, the time of Festival of Lights, Deepavali, takes me down memory lane.  Let me recount the scenario from the 1960s and early 70s.  We eagerly looked forward to one or two more holidays for Deepavali which followed the Dasara holidays of September end or October.  

We lived at Devaparthiva Road in Chamarajapuram. The first preparation almost a month ahead was stitching of new apparel for all male members of the family.  The female members would have had their new sets a month before for the Gowri Festival.  My father would take us to a cloth store and buy a long measures of cotton cloth. The children [me and brother] would get shorts [ಚಡ್ಡಿ] and same type shirts was common for all, like uniform, excluding my grandfather who did not need.  They were given to Tailor Narayana Rao whose shop was just a furlong away.  We preferred custom-made dresses.  'Comfortable loose-fitting' was our formula, which ready-mades never provided.  Narayana Rao was to deliver the stitched dresses ahead of the festival day, but he doing so was a rarity, which forced us to remind him several times.

Fireworks would flood the market a week prior to the festival. Initially my grandfather would take us to one of the temporarily erected stalls.  We would mostly buy the sparklers, flowerpots and their likes but only a couple of small chains of the smallest crackers which we called 'horse crackers' ಕುದುರೆ ಪಟಾಕಿ.  The items were given in paper covers.  The lot was divided between the two brothers, sometimes unfairly, for which there used to be little fights.

ನೀರು ತುಂಬುವ ಹಬ್ಬ. ನರಕ ಚತುರ್ದಶಿ.  The evening before, the ladies of the house would clean all the water storage vessels [mostly copper and brass, which shone] including the hearth vessel in the bath and fill with fresh water [24-hour supply then], which was customary. They would be decorated with religious markings from rice flour.  Mango leaves were pluck from the tree in the yard and a string of individual leaves neatly arranged side by side [ತೋರಣ] would be tied to the front door frame and the worship room door.

On the previous night, my mother would draw a lovely pattern of rice-flour rangoli in front of the main door, which lasted a week.  My grandmother, mother and aunt would get busy making various preparations, including food and worship for the festival.  It was a very enthusiastic atmosphere.  Recent picture of mother's rangoli.

We slept early, ready to wake up at 4 am.  During exam time, we needed to be shaken up from sleep, but now, we were awake well ahead, all by ourselves!

'Oil bath' [castor oil] for the male members was a very important ritual.  Mother would apply oil to the heads of her sons as soon as we got up. After half an hour, bath, one by one. My grandmother would have got up ahead of all of us and put fire to the hearth [hot water boiler]. New clothes were worn after bath.

Image from facebook depicts a very common joint family scene.  Castor oil on the head gave an awkward feeling, leave alone its smell!

We wanted to be the first in the street to burst a cracker, but always, some friend would be doing it already!  Then later he would boast 'Did you hear at 4 am itself?'

There used to be 'caps' - small red paper buttons with a tiny bit of explosive sandwiched in the centre.  Same was also available for toy pistols called 'caps', in rolls [all cracker images here, from web].  One or two of these buttons were placed between washers of a thick nut-bolt and thrown to the ground - the caps would produce a 'phat' sound.  It echoed in the street! 

When we grew up a a tad bit older and bolder, louder-boomers started to fancy us. The loudest sounding item in our lot was ‘elephant cracker’ with that Red Fort picture [see] on the packet. It exploded with a loud but tolerable sound.  In a bid to stretch the pleasure value and duration to the maximum, we did not mind the extra work of separating the chain of crackers to burst them one by one!  Even the cheap little 'horse crackers' were separated, tips of the wicks peeled and kept ready! The odd one that fizzed delighted us because of the fear shown when the wick caught fire from the incense stick!  Others watching would shout and say if the wick had caught fire or not!  Sometimes they used to fool us by shouting that the wick had caught fire when it had not, but not the other way, so that we could run away in time.  At times, the wick would fizzle in to the cracker so fast and explode before we moved away a couple of feet. 

Dawn would be still an hour away when boys and girls would come out and start fireworks.  There would be a break for breakfast at about 8 O'Clock.  The ladies in the house would have it prepared as the kids enjoyed the morning session.  Our  family priest Puttaramaiah who came daily for the ಷೊಡಶೊಪಚಾರ rituals would do the extra festival related rituals. He also came the following evening, as ಬಲಿ ಪಾಡ್ಯಮಿ Bali Padyami rituals were for the evening.  We enjoyed his sprinkling of holy water chanting 'ಬಲಿ ರಾಜ ಚಕ್ರವರ್ತಿ ಹೊನ್ನೋ ಹೊನ್ನೋ ' [Bali raja chakravarthi honno honno] with a raised voice and stopped with a cresendo.

We never bought either Rockets or Atom bombs.  Only once or twice I went up to the extent of ‘Lakshmi cracker’ and ‘China chuvva’ in very small numbers, only to 'compete' with friends in terms of decibel output!  They were the young brothers of the atom bomb.  The sound of a bomb fired by someone in a distant locality reverberated in the pre-dawn silent skies of Mysore, pleased me more than what was fired by me!   But I felt sorry for the crows that were then aplenty spending the nights on roadside tree branches.  Sparrows [now vanished from here] were found flying funnily, confused by the loud sounds everywhere.  Street dogs were never seen, nor the stray cattle, obviously rattled and confused too.

We were curious to know 'for how much' a friend bought his crackers. It was commonly inquired. If someone crossed the hundred mark, he would be 'looked up as rich'. For us two brothers, the expense would be hardly twenty five or thirty rupees at the most.  A few crackers, some sparklers, coloured match sticks, incense sticks [for igniting], flower pots, threadlike sparklers, ಭೂ ಚಕ್ರ and ವಿಷ್ಣು ಚಕ್ರ - Coiled tape - one for the ground and the latter which was risky, made up most of our list.

There used to be special sweet dishes for lunch.  Everything was prepared at home.  Grandfather stayed at home, watching us and enjoying the rest from his busy but organized routine. So was father. But out on the streets, it was a busy scenario, children running in and out, firing a cracker every now and then. 

I do not recall people exchanging festival greetings in a very showy manner like now!  But there was an exchange.

In those days the festival was not a nuisance. The sky did not choke much, nor did asthmatic people complain of smoke.  Things were in moderation, less people, less fireworks and they stopped by 11pm.  Haze in the normal sky was negligible and hence quite starry, except during winter fog.  Only on the two days of Naraka Chaturdashi and Bali Padyami the night sky would get smoggy.  Pollution was not a word on people's tongues like now!  The municipal sweepers the next morning would sweep all the paper debris left by the fireworks.  We used to look for fizzed out crackers and extract that 'explosive powder' from them and light a match to it to enjoy the little adventure, taking care of safety. This was more fun than bursting crackers!

Once my young brother had burnt his fingers trying to light a bunch of coloured matchsticks together. It was a painful experience for him from that one-time adventure.

In the evening also there used to be a small session of fire crackers.  Pre-dinner time was reserved for sparklers, coiled wheels and flowerpots, enjoyed by all the members of the family.  It used to be a great fun-filled time. Once a flowerpot exploded when I was lighting it. Luckily nothing untoward happened.

In the evenings for the entire duration of ಕಾರ್ತೀಕ ಮಾಸ [4 weeks] oil lamps in small clay diyas would be kept in pairs at the gate, at the front door and on the ತುಳಸಿ ಕಟ್ಟೆ [holy basil pot].  Some people made the decoration of lights more artistically, keeping a long series on the compound wall.
After all, this is a festival of lights, not of sound!

In 1970, we had been to the Dasara Exhibition [old building].  I think it was a day after the Bali Padyami. We were returning home on foot at about 9 pm.  There were a couple of fire engines and a crowd in front of a house in our street.  They owned a couple of cows.  Hay which they had stacked on the terrace had caught fire from some rocket which had landed on the stack.  Luckily only a part of the house was gutted and no one was injured. Damage was minimal.

Around 1977 or so, a lorry carrying a large stock of fireworks had caught fire.  It was passing on Jhansi Lakshmi Bai Road near the junction of Medical College Hostel close to where a lovely little building known as 'Bharat Scout and Guides'.  Only the driver's presence of mind saved lives or caused any damage.  He had swerved the vehicle, stopped it by the side of the road and jumped out to safety.

As we passed the teens, this thrill of firing crackers waned away slowly and many years later, it was time for nextgen to enjoy their teens.  Digital cameras had arrived to capture the moments.
I have to depend on memory and words!



*.*.*.*
We used to buy and mail Deepavali greeting cards to some relatives and friends, well ahead of the festival, which too stopped with the advent of the e-mail.  But aunt Rathna has enthusiastically kept up this lovely tradition [Picture below].


Diwali Greetings from The Narayans.

******

Deepavali Song - 1963. [Kannada Movie]

Monday, October 20, 2014

My HMT Watch and others


The closure of HMT Watch Factory [click] recently has saddened thousands of HMT watch patrons.  HMT wrist watches became a status symbol in the 60s and 70s.  It sounds silly now but a watch was high on the list as a 'dowry item' in marriages!  Like the 'wedding ring', there are 'wedding watches', which my friend Suresh wears even now, 28 years on! The prized present from the father to his son or daughter on passing school or college used to be a watch.  Buying a watch from the first pay check was a special dream achieved by many!  Even now, watches are presented as a fitting gift on retirement from service.

 My 'first bought watch' was from one of my earliest salary savings, in 1983.  Deciding on an HMT 'Jubilee' ahead of  'black dial Pilot' and 'Sona' was only for my fondness for Roman numerals at that time, though all were sleek and the other two, a tad bit dearer. Every rupee counted at that stage, more than ever.


Picture courtesy with permission from: Prashant Pandey blog. [linked later]
[Click all images to enlarge]

Jubilee had cost me Rs.200 which was close to 1/4th of salary, a very substantial proportion for a watch!  Having an 'own watch' boosted the status, so we felt!  We pulled up the cuff when we wore a full-sleeve shirt to show it off on the wrist, making a conscious and deliberate 'fashion statement' and looking at the watch as if looking at the time, in such a way others noticed the act!  This, my maternal uncle Annaiah was curiously observing and teasing me!  Together, we observed others do that as well!

During school days we inquired time ["ಟೈಮ್ ಎಷ್ಟ್ರೀ"] from passing elderly people who proudly looked at the watch and answered.  Now a watch was on my own wrist!

The latest HMT watches catalogue was put in to my hands in 1985 by my college classmate Sudarshan [who was also in the campus, working]. He had got it from his friend in Bangalore.  Now, all of a sudden, my Jubilee started to look unattractive!  Instantly I got smitten by 'Pilot' and envied the wrists that adorned 'Pilot'.  My colleague Mukunda was interested in a new watch.  So my Jubilee, lock, stock and barrel, went to his wrist and he dealt with it in four installments for Rs.175.

In that catalogue, 'Chinar' appeared more impressive than Jubilee.  There was no stock in Mysore.  'Pilot' was fighting the race, but 'Chinar' won because of its new horizontal lines.  After much dilly dallying, I left out Pilot and Sona also.  Crazy as I was for watches, having learnt to take apart, also do the reverse I used my spare time as a hobby mechanic!

Sudarshan was very kind to bring me the 'Chinar' from the Bangalore outlet.  I handed over a cheque for Rs.214/-.


Cash Memo from the Unity Building outlet, famous then!  Total Rs.213 Paise 30. 

I was not 'watchless' between Jubilee and Chinar.  My grandfather's 1950s Skymaster 'Continental Calendar' stood by.


The Jubilee was the first HMT in the house because my grandfather already had left his '1914 Favre-Leuba Zenith', my uncle used a 1960s 'Enicar' and my father had his 'Lamania' [later used all three above] which was lost to his friend-repairer in the next street.  My great grandfather's pocket watch was sick.



HMT named 'Janata' as 'Chinar' because it was made in the new [1985] Srinagar factory, which I learnt now browsing for this post!  See date on the back. 


Twins!

A full white dial Janata was the favourite of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi who wore it regularly. Film actor Sunny Deol also wears an HMT.

My friend and team mate Ravindra had given me his 'Pilot' for overhauling  He was nicknamed 'Pilot' which name even now continues to overwhelm his actual name among friends!  I do not know if Pilot Watch was the reason.  After overhauling it and to check its working I wore it joyfully for two days!  I was also 'scratching that itch'!  [The itch persists]  Its craftsmanship was so magnificent that it was a pleasurable experience to take it apart and then put the parts back after cleaning, easily. This is one watch I enjoyed overhauling.  The dial was famous for its luminous indices and hands that glowed in the dark [for about 20-30 minutes], hence it carried a slightly extra price.


HMT Pilot and its lume [web grab images]

In 1974, HMT came up with the first ever Automatic Day-Date, which was my elderly professor friend Achyutha's first watch, bought for its new features.  He mentioned how a watch mechanic raised his eyebrows in Israel during his study-stay: "Does India manufacture watches?"  After using more than 35 years, his wrist got a new quartz HMT, also with day-date.  He gave the 1974 self-winding watch to me, to 'do whatever I liked'. It needed slight repair but could not be carried out as it was beyond my range of 'expertise'. My veteran friend Khabade also did not find the worn out part.  Yet, it worked with some oiling for 3-4 years and then it started to show perfect time exactly once in twelve hours.  Got the point?


Achyutha's watch

Easy availability of spares and profusion of watch mechanics also added to HMT's popularity in its half a century of life.  With the advent of quartz technology, spring wound mechanical watches have been steadily going downhill and watch mechanics, dwindling. Quartz 'movements' have taken over.  Also, the watch machine is called the 'movement'.


This is not a showroom diaplay, but an accumulation at home.  Most watches wanted themselves to be photographed together.  It was a good gathering of the old generation mechanicals mingling with newer quartzos.  Almost three dozen watches. Come to think of the day when even one watch per home was a grand luxury!!  Online shopping...'add to cart'........  fashion, different straps, dials, chains, belts.... to suit the dress.....


My lovely Chinar, and my favourite stainless steel chain.


This is how hobby mechanics learn!  

You just saw the remains of my first watch, of some Swiss brand. It was a scapegoat, a 'lesson watch'!  It was gifted by my uncle to me when I passed 10th [in first attempt!]. It belonged to my cousin, who passed away young.  Later, I fit its dial and case with a quartz movement and gave it off to FiL who urgently needed a watch!

I have always loved watches.  Enough has been bragged by me, nay, blogged, about in my 3-part series about watches and clocks. First one is here: [click].

More appealing will be Prashant Pandey's blog exclusively on HMT watches, loaded with stories behind each watch in his collection! I bumped into it in my quest for HMT 'Pilot'. He also has a facebook group of HMT watch collectors.  Prashant is a collector of HMTs with a prized wealth of 500+ models - an HMT watches museum in the making.  [Click here and enjoy]
And another: [Click here]

On a lighter side: 
Everyone knew what 'HMT' was.  But there were two other light references for HMT.  If we put a towel on our shoulder, we become HMT, like the village man.  He always has HMT.  "ಹೆಗಲಿನ ಮೇಲೆ ಟೊವೆಲ್ಲು" [towel on the shoulder].  The towel is an integral part of the village man's costume.  We may forget to wear a watch when we go out, but he, not his towel!   Another reference is to parents having daughters only - "ಹೆಣ್ಣು ಕ್ಕಳ ತಂದೆ or ತಾಯಿ".

We can imitate the ticking of the watch by clicking fingernails of the thumb and middle finger near the ear!!

On the factual side:
HMT showed that India can mass produce fine quality, dependable, robust, trouble-free, long lasting, affordable watches in India itself so much so that it was on millions of wrists, male and female, producing more than 110 million watches in plethora of models in its lifetime from 1961 to 2014. Some models are evergreen classics!  Not for nothing there are watch collectors 'specializing' only in HMT watches!

Some impressive catch phrases HMT used in its watch advertisements.
"Come, discover HMT watches. It will change the way you look at time."  It certainly did!
"Keep time with HMT – The time keepers to the nation." We did and they indeed were!

Saturday, October 11, 2014

16-hour long sleep on pilgrimage!

In November 1999, I had joined some relatives to visit Dharmasthala, Subramanya, Sringeri and Hornadu, all pilgrimage centres amidst the hills and greenery [see map at the bottom]. The group was quite large, consisting of us 2+2, my maternal uncle's 2+2, uncle, two aunts and a cousin, making a full dozen. 

First destination was "Kukke Subramanya". Ordinary bus, night journey starting 9 pm, no reservation.  Journey time was to be 7-8 hours.  When our bus arrived, the aisle was full of people in 'standing seats' and we were a dozen!  I watched all others squeeze through the door as people made way in funny ways to allow more passengers in.  Space creates itself!  I did not want to make the trip. I was the only one among the dozen not boarded.  But reluctantly I kept my foot up the step and I was pulled in. The bus was overloaded, but it is common here!  It started to move, maximum weight on its axles.  Even the eldest, my uncle and aunt did not get seats. We were to stand like all night this amidst a variety of odours emanating from a sea of people in a jam-packed bus or till some passengers alighted somewhere.  One hour, two hours and three.  It was past midnight. Status quo.  We were still standing, fighting sleep which was trying to get the better of us. The bus was to halt at towns on the way. Slowly, the crowd thinned down and one by one got seats, but it was only after half the journey was over all of us were seated. It was well past 1 am.  We alighted at just about dawn.

Lord Subramanyeshwara is the Snake God and the temple is dedicated to it, amidst pure hills and abundant greenery, fit for as sacred a place as this. We got a large dormitory room and soon went for a bath at river Kumaradhara. A visit to the temple followed, then lunch.

Our next destination was Dharmasthala, a 100-minute journey by another bus.  We reached there by evening.  My maternal uncle managed to get a large room in one of the hundreds of guest rooms.  All of us were very tired, a result of the difficult night journey.  Soon after a quick wash it was decided we get ready for the night meal [scheduled 8 pm] at the huge dining hall where hundreds eat meals.  It is an integral part of this holy town and the temple organizes this, twice a day.  It was about 6 pm in the evening.

When one by one woke up, the watch was showing half past ten.  We thought we missed dinner, but there was daylight outside!  It was the next morning!  Astounding as it is, none woke up for 16 hours!! Our sleep session was that long, perhaps my longest since I was a baby!!  It that had saved us from a dinner and a breakfast, although meals are given free. This had recouped energies in us as we had more travel!

Losing no further time, we headed for a bath in the river Netravathi and prepared to line up in the queue at the Sri Manjunatheshwara Temple. We had a peaceful view [ದರ್ಶನ] of the Lord's idol which has been worshiped for 800 years.


We stand in front of the Temple entrance.

Our next destination was Hornadu, where we visited the Sri Annapoorneshwari Temple.  We had arrived here just in time for the afternoon meal.  Here also, mass feeding is part of the service, an important one because the deity worshiped here is the Goddess of  food/grain/nourishment, Annapurna.  We could get a peaceful view of the beautifully decorated and bejeweled idol.

We left for Sringeri for an overnight stay.  Early next morning, we visited the Sri Sharada Temple and left back for Mysore, a journey of 8 hours. 


This is the route map.  


It was a good short pilgrimage, but what reminds me of this is the very long sleep all of us had.  
16 hours is something!  I'm glad there was no train or bus to catch early next morning!

A tribute to KB Sadananda

"He can be like a kid with kids and like a veteran with veterans.", my friend Ramesh Kikkeri admiringly described during an informal chat.  He was referring to K.B.Sadananda, whom I had not yet heard or seen.  It was probably a dozen years ago.  Now it pains as I write this tribute to Sadananda who left us this month, still 'young' at 72 leaving behind thousands of his admirers, friends, bird-watchers, nature-lovers, well-wishers et al.


When Sadananda spoke something, they were gems, loaded with correct facts!  
Organic farmer Lokesh and Chandrashekar listen to Sadananda.  2009, 'Nesara'.

He frequented an organic produce outlet 'Nesara' at Gita Road, where we also went to buy certain items.  He had retired voluntarily from the University's Botany dept. and was volunteering himself willingly sharing his ocean of knowledge and vast experience with customers and members of Nesara alike.

I guess it was also Ramesh who introduced Sadananda to me at 'Nesara'.  I remember liking him and his manners instantly and how friendly he was and I was soon to learn that our widish age difference was no issue.  Simple, smiling, cool, calm, mild mannered, jovial, came on scooter [and later car], had a fine sense of humour and his words were filled with authority.  I do not think anyone has seen him displaying a frown.

Christening him as Mysore's Salim Ali would be no over-estimation.  He deserved the prefix: 'ornithologist'.  He was in great demand with several groups for his knowledge of botany and birds.  None equaled Sadananda esp. in Mysore.  He was often taken by enthusiasts and organizations on several outings to the forests to identify plants and trees. And because of his whole-hearted willingness to share his knowledge he was a much sought-after person. 

My first visit to his house was to see his rainwater harvesting method which I was to implement. He also gave me a glass of rainwater to drink to feel its unique 'taste'! I copied the idea and still harvest rainwater. He also visited our house once or twice.

In 2005, he took me to the nearby Ramakrishna Vidyashala campus to show the vast variety of flora.  I went to his house and from there he pillioned on my scooter.  I was wearing a gift T-shirt from the Korean Broadcasting System. On the way, he said "Hey, you are wearing my T-shirt!"  It took me a couple of seconds to realize what he meant.  The station's letters were embroidered on the back "KBS", referring to his own initials!

There he showed me a Cork Tree, a rarity.  It was where I also saw the nutmeg plant for the first time.  I stopped at a pond.  Numerous colourful water lilies drew me.  I sat on the edge to photograph a lily with my film camera.  Sadananda was a veteran photographer also.  I was getting ready to shoot.  "Wait a second." he said, took some water and lightly sprinkled on the flower.  "You take the photo now, the droplets will add beauty to the image."  Here are those same droplets and the only picture I took on this little sojourn! 


It did not occur to me to take Sadananda's photograph.  With film cameras, we were sometimes over-choosy on deciding to shoot.

I was into 'ponding' just then and had a pink water lily. In the same month, he took me in his car to the Kumble Farm to see his organic farming methods. The owner Mr.R.G.Kumble [also no more] was also a member at 'Nesara'.  Mrs.Kumble was kind enough to give me her extra plant of the blue water lily, which I still have in my pond.  Here: 


Sadananda had also an indirect role in this water lily. I have also shared many of its little babies with others.

Whenever I had some time and passed by his house I would stop.  And when he was home, he would gladly spend a few minutes and show a few interesting plants in his small yard.  

I spotted a 'mystery' yellow bird in 2009 near our house.  Immediately I called Sadananda and described it.  He was spot on.  I referred Salim Ali's "Book of Indian Birds". There it was, Indian Golden Oriole, a rare visitor to Mysore.  I also wrote a letter to the local paper with his name.


Last year, I needed some seed pans of clay.  I went to him if he knew any clay potter. "Park your scooter there, let's go." he said. He took me in his car through a narrow street in his locality and stopped in front of a house where pots had been stacked.  He seemed to know Sadananda quite well! I bought half a dozen pans for my garden needs.  

The last I met him in normal condition was in early 2014.  I went to his house after a telephone call.  A casual visit.  He gave me a big rhizome of ginger for me to grow as it was extra. The plant is growing nicely.  Picture below.


He also allowed me to dig up a portion of an Aptenia cordifolia succulent which had overgrown.  I cherish this plant with pink flowers.  He was compiling information on Wildflowers of Mysore, making hand drawings of plant details and said he had listed many species.

It was shocking when I heard again from Ramesh that he had suffered a stroke. When he returned from hospital I went to see him.  A thinned Sadananda was on the wheel chair. Despite his condition of not being able to speak clearly and not being able to move his left hand or eat on his own, he had his sense of humour going.  He was teasing his little grandniece and also joked about me and my wife.  Little did I know when we bid goodbye to him it was to be the last.  I used to ask for his health updates at 'Nesara'.  It appears that slowly he had recovered and was able to walk with a help and also speak and also visited Nesara a few times. 

The first person someone consulted for expert views, be it birds or trees, was Sadananda.  He gave several lectures and presentations and he asked nothing in return.  Heritage Trees of Mysore - by KBS


He lived true to his name - Sada [always] Ananda [happy]. And kept others around him also 'ananda'.
His soul may have flown away like a bird, but his deeds and name will remain green forever.  He had opted in his lifetime that his body be donated to a medical institution for study and it was carried out by his kinfolk.  Rest in peace.