My stint at poetic composition!

"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility." This is a famous quote by William Wordsworth which my elderly colleague used to recollect his college teacher mentioning it.

I do not remember much from my school poems, except for "Humpty, Dumpty sat on a wall....", which we 'by-hearted' and tried to reproduce in front of the teacher or in exams. That ended the exercise. They were all soon forgotten. Learning poems was a most avoidable exercise! But somehow rhyming words have always fascinated me. Among our group of friends there was one (late) Vasu - older than all of us - who was fond of making fun of others and he usually had some funny rhyming two-liners. His friends used to tease him "Lo Vasu, kodu ondu kaasu". (Hey Vasu, give me a penny), etc. I never understood properly the poem we were taught in school or college. "Daffodils" by Wordsworth was one among them. Such was my ignorance that I could not even perceive that a daffodil was a flower! The worst part was to write the explanation of a stanza in the exams!

Dinakar Desai was a renown Kannada Poet whose 4-line limericks were very popular. In fact, people used to call me his full name (being the namesake) - HE was that famous. While representing Mysore Zone in cricket my name was written as "Dinakar Desai" by some fellow. When the scorers gave the match report to the Press, they had given my name as "Dinakar Desai" which came in print (Kannada - Prajavani) the following morning (I still preserve it!). I had taken two wicktes.

I also used to read with some interest short rhyming poems in magazines some readers contributed. I was not interested in a story-like poem with emotions and no rhymes. I by-passed such ones. I wanted to try rhymes just for fun. Also, poems composed with a certain name and its spelling as its subject also interested me - each letter would be the beginning of a line and rhyming was not a must in this case. When S.Venkataraghavan was chosen to lead Indian Cricket team in the 1979 World Cup, I thought of scratching my head and try something on his long name. I went with a draft to my good friend Rajgopal for help. At a young age, he was already a prolific writer with a good vocabulary (he is now renown as a 'walking vocabularist'!) . He re-wrote the entire thing and I did not understand some of the words! I wanted to get it published in a sports magazine. I was yearning to see my name in print which was a fancy and such a thrill. Rajgopal had many already and he encouraged me to put my name though he wrote it in fact!

I sent this to 'Sportsworld' and was disappointed not to see in print. Click on the picture below to read.



After some years, I wrote another short one, myself. It was very spontaneous and I enjoyed it. It was published in Sportstar and I was so thrilled to see it!



Ravi Shastri was earning a name for his slow batting in the early 90s. So I thought of a few lines to express some anger as below and sent it to local papers and was happy to see it being honoured!

This one also gave me some satisfaction as I started writing it and got some help from my learned colleague Nagaraja. I gave it to Mrs. Nandini (the subject) and earned some appreciation. Click on the image to read.

Look at this photograph below:

When the film roll was developed and the prints arrived, I was puzzled to see a blurred picture that I had shot of my daughter. My pen went off spontaneously with these lines:

No, no, the earth wasn't quaking,
While my camera was clicking.

These things happen once in a way,
On any unknown night or day.

The camera is of Russian make,
But this photographer is no fake!

~~~~~~

There was another colleague with whom we had a close association, a much respected person by one and all. His name was Lakshmi Venkatesh [very very fond of tea, hence the title]. I attempted another rhyming poem and it came off well, while it reflected all his qualities. It was presented to him when he retired from service. It was he who told that Wordsworth quote above. Here is what I composed trying to encapsulate his personality - He was a tea-lover and a Maths teacher - hence that title:

SUM OF LAKSHMI VENKA'TEA'SH

Superannuate Lakshmi Venkatesh will, end September,

Miss badly our department will, one real noble member.

Prior to his CFTRI stint, he was a good teacher in a school,

He had enjoyed every bit, when that piece of chalk was his tool.

He's fond of teaching Mathematics even without a board,

His students learning the subject, never get bored.

The art of teaching is surely in his genes,

Never did he wear even the best of jeans.

He right-stepped into the Institute in the mid-sixties,

And sipped off thousands of cups of coffees and teas.

Outwardly, he is a simple-dressed scientist,

Inwardly, he is by no means an atheist.

One of his noteworthy works was on rice bran,

But after awards or rewards he never ran.

Surprised and happy he was when a patent was awarded,

With tea, we, his colleagues were simply rewarded.

The walnut project took him up north to Srinagar,

That was when he was fit, energetic and younger.

Later when his backache took its toll,

He was no longer on the touring roll.

Our beloved Venkatesh was Sponsored Projects' "Lakshmi",

But from now on, our Ramesh may say, "that's me".

To many an election here, he was the Returning Officer,

None knew how he could reject hot tea in a cup and saucer.

He never did bend upon using the computer's keyboard,

But with his pen, gripped unusually, he wrote many a word.

When it came to Income Tax, he was our helpful adviser,

With 'Lakshmi' around, people got much more wiser.

Seriousness aside, he was all wit and wisdom,

People around him were never led to boredom.

His sincerity and industriousness deserve accolades,

His rough beard has blunted hundreds of blades.

He earned a reputation for honesty, kindness and generosity,

To emulate him, we need not require pugnacity.

With that twinkle in his eye and the depth in his voice,

He always hated making unnecessary noise.

His memory for quoting anecdotes is breath-taking,

The way he narrates them is awe-inspiring.

He is a man who believes in 'thought, word and deed',

For those who are in need, he is a real friend indeed.

He very often lost control over mind over A matter,

When THIS matter was a cup of tea served on a platter.

Our Venkatesh follows a strict regimen of diet as a rule,

But rejects his cup of tea only when it had become cool.

He used to share his vast ken of Epics and Upanishads with us,

None can doubt that he is deeply spiritual and religious.

The great aura of his personality commands respect,

From him in reciprocation the same thing one is to expect.

To fellow humans Lakshmi Venka-TEA-sh is full of compassion,

Yet again, sipping tea is his preferred and irrepressible passion.

His frequent "hello"s and "namaskaara"s, we will miss,

Associating with him on any matter has been pure bliss.

Let him teach, full time, Algebra, Calculus or whatever,

May health and happiness be with him and family forever.

Presented by Colleagues, 2002

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I enjoyed composing this one in Kannada [two pages]. There was a popular colleague that served the Institution for 41 years and personally I had the good fortune of being in the same department for 18 years. This composition ["Nammukunda" meaning "Our Mukunda"] brings out most of his personality. It was read out in the farewell gathering by another colleague on the day he retired from service. The same was presented to him. It was August 2000. This is a caricature I tried.

Click on the images to read.

Page 2

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This one too gave much delight to me as well as our colleagues as the subject was our

head of the dept. On the eve of his superannuation, it was presented to him.

THE PILLAI WE KNEW

Our Sri Pillai lays down office at the end of March,

To Prabhu he will pass on the torch.

As spearhead of the Department,

He brought laurels for Institute's betterment.

His great virtue has been the art of conversation,

Which fully deserves our appreciation.

When there was no question of an agreement,

He outwitted the other in the argument.

His forte was his courage and wisdom in decision making,

The speed with which he did so was truly amazing.

Working with him had been mostly a pleasure,

The rest of the time it was pure pressure.

With the pen he was ever ready to sign,

Many a time, he had to 'draw a line'.

The bell switch will no longer feel his fretful finger,

But those typical "ting-ting ting-tings" will always linger.

The engaged telephone at the other end drew him nuts,

And his own, suffered from bruises and cuts.

When situations made us feel his presence,

We wished for his temporary absence.

Up until the time he crossed well over fifty,

He was the Chairman of Doorvas Committee.

Saviour faire had become one of his top attributes,

Also to all his other good ones, we pay tributes.

What we all usually saw was Pillai the taskmonger,

But the real Pillai happens to be a humdinger.

Le'im settle at Cochin, Calicut or wherever,

Let health and happiness be with him and family forever.

"Colleagues"29th March, 2001

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WHAT THEY DEAL

Learn while you Rhyme!

[Composed, 2004]

History deals with chaps,

Geography, with maps.

Botany deals with plants,

Architecture, with plans.

Literature deals with books,

Fashion, with looks.

Doctors deal with health,

Scavengers, with filth.

Geology deals with rocks,

Paediatrics, with tots.

Photography deals with picture,

Carpentry, with furniture.

Palmistry deals with palms,

Beggars depend on alms.

Hotels engage cooks,

Police hunt for crooks.

Aeronautics deal with planes,

Cartooning, with lines.

Philately deals with stamps,

Lalloo pokes in scams.

Barber deals with hairs,

Stock market, with shares.

Zoology deals with animals,

Law punishes criminals.

Postmen deliver mails,

Manicurist tends finger-nails.

Biology deals with life,

Dacoit wields the knife.

Astronomy deals with stars,

Mechanics repair cars.

Psychiatry deals with the mind,

We should learn to be kind.

~~~~~~~~

Suitcase left and found

Subramanya’s brother had come to the Bangalore Railway Station to pick him back home after we returned from our trip to Jammu for a cricket tournament for our employers. Subramanya was happy to see him there at the Station as it was many days before we left our homes. That was around dawn, December 1983. I had planned to go with him so that I can visit his house before continuing my journey back to Mysore later in the day.
 
Bangalore then was not as crowded as we see today.  Passenger and autorickshaw queues were not yet felt necessary.  It was on the verge.  We threesome boarded the three-wheeler.  It was jam-packed with luggage and our legs while we sat under the weight.  It was still the 'holdall days'!

Subramanya's brother was curious to know how the tour went and how we had fared in the games. By the time we could answer him with a few details, the house at Basavanagudi had already arrived in just ten minutes.

Those were the days of telegrams.  Even if STDs were available, we had no phones at home to inform our families about our reaching a distant place or our welfare if the tour was more than a week. Nowadays, we inform our families back home even if we sneeze two times - through mobile phones!

Sometimes we used to write postcards on alternate days and searched postboxes to mail them!  It was quite a thrill. Often we used to arrive home quicker and read them ourselves!  As such, once we were out, we were literally disconnected from homes and they would not know the goings-on of our tours.  The details were only revealed on arrival to curious family members.

We alighted the autorickshaw and the brother helped with shifting the luggage inside.  Suddenly I discovered that my suitcase was not among the other pieces of luggage that came home with us.  He did not remember! But I clearly remembered having taken it out of the train bogey, carried to the autorickshaw stand.  After boarding the vehicle we did not verify if we had taken in all of them.

The missing suitcase puzzled us.  We tried to rewind our memory to each and every move we made, frame by frame, from the time we got out of our bogey and it was showing clearly the suitcase was in my hand.  It still showed up as we waited for the autorickshaw. After that it was blank.

The suitcase was a new one bought just before the tour at a ‘factory seconds’ discount sale.  I had another old kit bag and hold-all.  The newer generation wont know what it is.  It was bulky, heavy and had the capability to 'hold all' including the bed and pillow, hence its name! In those days sleeper class train seats were of wooden planks and a quilted bed was a necessity for long journeys.  Only later, cushioned seats came into vogue.

So, we arrived at the conclusion that the suitcase must have been left behind where we boarded the 3-wheeler.  Most of the passengers had left the spot before we found our vehicle and that got us to worry more about it.  It contained all the purchases I had made for many others also and had become quite heavy with walnuts, apricots, etc!  It was the first time I had gone on such a long tour.

Leaving me behind, Subramanya pillioned his brother on his motorcycle and headed back to the spot where we boarded the autorickshaw with a very faint hope of finding it, even though only 10-15 minutes had elapsed.

My wait for that little over half hour till the brothers returned was like half a day with umpteen things crossing my mind.  Losing things I had bought including the suitcase itself was a main worry, my cricketing attire included.  I had spent up most of the money and losing cash was not an issue on the mind.  The few rupees left in my pocket was enough for the journey back to Mysore excluding the railway ticket, which was already up to Mysore from Delhi.

Hands behind my behind, I walked here and there, like a caged animal in the zoo. Family members at Subramanya’s knew the density of the situation and just observed. After a seemingly long while, I heard the sound of the motorcycle stopping in front of the door and I very eagerly looked out in curiosity.

“My box of gold” was sitting in front of pillion Subramanya’s tummy! I went out and received the heavy suitcase with both hands as he got down from the seat. My joy knew no bounds. They were also very happy that it was not lost.

The satisfaction and sigh of relief I experienced at that particular moment defies description. It does not probably even measure up to such news as winning a bumper lottery!

What had happened was that after they loaded luggage into the vehicle, I being the last, had failed to carry my luggage in.  That critical period of time shows a ‘blank’ in memory!  Perhaps these things happen to everyone at one time or other and they always happen when it least 'expected'!! We call these as 'bad moments' and they go unexplained.  The 'auto' had started and moved and  probably I had no 'neck space' to turn and see out after sitting.

The policeman who was on duty near the Autorickshaw Stand had found it lying there.  Had it been today, it would have been a 'suspicious baggage' due to bomb-scares and no one would have touched it! Sniffer dogs would have been summoned!  This policeman had kept in his custody knowing that the owner would retrace the steps back.  He handed the suitcase to them only after being convinced that it was indeed ‘theirs’.   Whoever that policeman was, I doff my hat to him in gratefulness, even after 26 years since this happened.

Very rarely are things returned to owners after being lost or left behind.  I count myself lucky in this instance.  I have named this suitcase as ‘Left and found’!

The world's first photograph and our oldest

Though our family did not have any camera or fancied photography, my grandfather's library contained many fine books also from his father's time, on varied subjects including this one, The World's Best Photographs.

It was published by some British Publisher (there is nothing mentioned in it - may be the crucial first page is missing), going by the content. I also do not know if it belonged to a set of books on different themes brought out by them. But it seems to have been published in one of the few years soon after 1939. The editor writes in it that they planned two years ahead and he had space only for 400 best pictures of his choice and he had to reject 19 (also equally good ones) and choose one among the lot - that was the amount of pictures which had poured in from kind contributors for this edition. It is a collector's item, on any day.

I grew up with this book. My mother often used to show me pages from it as a bribe to make this fussy little boy open the mouth to let the spoon of boiled rice in. Some of the pictures that impressed me at that raw age are shown here below. I did not know the quality of its content until I grew up to appreciate photography. Though a box camera was around us since 1969-70, taking pictures were not taken seriously, mostly due to the expense in getting them printed. After I grew a little older, the book rested on the shelf.

The man drinking water was the one that always fascinated me while I wondered how this golf picture could have been taken.

Recently I was turning its pages and trying to read for the first time while 'nostalgiating' on those pictures. In this old book, I found this picture (below) supposed to be taken before 1839, by Fox Talbot. At that time, when this book was published, it was supposed (speculated) to be the first picture (by collotype/callotype process) ever taken.

The year 1839 was marked to be the birth of photography and in 1939, exhibitions were held all over the world to celebrate the centenary of this new medium of recording. This book contains pictures up to that year, taken by many famous photographers.

At that time it was really not known which was the one real first photograph taken. Trying to search for details on the above picture on the internet, I found this picture and learnt a new thing!


In fact, the first ever actual photograph (shown above) was something else, discovered and confirmed many years after the above book was brought out. The story behind the world's first photograph and also its finding is very interesting. Its exposure time was as long as eight hours! With present technology, cameras can take a shot in 1/1000th of a second! Imagine the quickness!

One fine day, I found something in our house which thrilled me. They were a set of negatives. I have seen negatives of pictures on plastic in my time, but this is in glass. There were no pictures of them in our albums. So I decided to get them printed at an acquaintance's studio about 15 years back to see who were all in them. They surely were connected to the family. I have heard about our house having a bullock cart and there it was on record. I was able to compare its shutters with the one on the small almirah's in our house. They are one and the same, converted when the cart got old.

In the following six collage-pictures, the left is the glass original and on the right, its print.

This is the cart - the face seen at the window is of a grand uncle. May be before 1920.

This is my great grandparents taken around 1930.

He may be a home tutor. Going by the age of the boy on the right (granduncle, Narayana) this would have been around 1910.

May be another tutor. Same period. The negative has been shown here in reverse by mistake.
This is the horse cart belonging to the same time, again going by the looks on Narayana there.

Now both tutors are together in this picture. Notice the tuft visible beneath the cap. The headgear was a must and part of the attire, typical of Mysore. There are hardly any old picture i our family pictures of that era showing heads of men without any headgear.

So these become the oldest pictures from our family. The common person in this picture Narayana died young after marriage.

Recorded are so many firsts in photography, be it a first photo of a royal ceremony, or one taken during a war or anything. Here is some information about the world's first colour photograph. The present generation children know only colour pictures. They shy away even when a vintage movie in B&W is shown on TV! They do not know how hard it was to take a movie, leave alone a photograph.

Well, this one could be my first ever "click", in 1969, at Gokarna. My elder cousin (in white on the right handed me the box camera and I looked through the very tiny rectangular hole (view finder) and slowly pushed the lever and heard that pleasing sound of the shutter!




After my uncle took my picture that day probably in 1964 or so, I clearly remember asking him if I can take a shot. Of course with just 12 frames in the roll (full capacity was that -- now we shoot in hundreds in the digital era!), experimentation in the hands of an 8-year old was a no-no!

My late cousin (seen here) who was with us at that time was mostly handling the camera (borrowed from a maternal uncle). He allowed me to take this shot when our house was freshly white-washed as part of the preparation for my 'sacred thread ceremony', in April 1970.

A picture is worth a thous..............

~~~~~~~~

Here are many from our albums and photoframes. The ones in photoframes were removed and converted into album some years back. It was a lot of hard work, worth the pain and time.

Vintage pictures from album - 1

Another smaller set:

Vintage Miscellaneous Pictures

Visit my blog on Photo Studios and old photographs.

I had a weird experience behind the camera.


************

The Legendary Carpet

This carpet has seen it all. It has spent its life with our family and seen five generations and numerous family events. It has brushed many soles of great souls that have walked on it.

Nobody discussed about its history in my lifetime as it silently lay beneath our feet, adding beauty with its lovely pattern. We do not know how it came to be part of our family but observing old pictures from the family album gave a hint of how long it has been here.

Belgium is famous for carpets and going by the durability, design and quality, it can only be wildly assumed that someone must have gifted my great grandfather or that it was his big purchase as part of a sofa set to entertain his clients and visitors.

That was at a time when sofa sets were entering homes - 'going British' (not western). It is a popular belief also, that the British brought window and door curtain system to India! I was witness to an old ragged sofa set that was lying in an unused passageway. For repair the set of 3 was handed over in 1975 to a known upholsterer who lived next street and his two young daughters came to our house to learn lessons in Veena from my maternal aunt. Into the cart they went that day and was the last we saw of it. The upholsterer's extraordinary delay and our frequent inquiries resulted one fine day in him asking back to us "which sofa set?"! In the meantime, my grandfather also had died and we were forced to 'write it off as a bad debt'. In all likelihood this carpet during its 'heydays' was kept in the visitor's room (writing the blog from that very room) in front of the sofa set. Straw mats would have been popular then also, as it is now at least with us.

This carpet was popularly addressed as "RathnakambLi".


This is the pattern of our subject. How beautiful it would have looked when it was fresh and new!

The above photo is of K.Srikantaiah and his wife, a nephew of my great grandfather. It must be from the 1930s. Since it was a joint family, he lived together among many others in the same house I write this. The house itself was built in 1911. His job later took him to Bangalore. Their son K.S.Nanjundaiah (find his name in the link) was born in this house around 1917 (he is 92 now, old and frail).

Observe the carpet under their feet and another striped carpet at the back one in the picture. This picture must have been 'modified' in the studio to give that background of a scenery or it must have been a big painting like we see on drama stages, I don't know.

(That was the sofa I referred above.)

The above picture must be from the late 1940s. Notice the same carpets. The couple is unknown - may be some guest visiting the family for an event that must have taken place in our house itself. That open yard has become my garden now.

This is from 1956 when friends and relatives had gathered for my grandfather's 60th birthday celebration.

The carpet was part of my parent's wedding reception at Narasimharaja Sahakara Bhavana at 100 ft. Road (now Chamaraja Double Road) in December 1956.


I have grown with it.
(Above picture - note the wooden toys and empty talcum powder tins as toys!)

I have played on it spending endless hours. Somehow, that pattern has been very attractive to me even from my very young age. The bordering straight lines were imagined as my roads for my toy games - I used to kneel in the centre and 'drive' my cars and buses (often other objects also became cars and even aeroplanes!) and what speed I drove as I swiveled on my knees only to get bruised by the rough carpet! We wore shorts. I did it anti-clockwise because of my right-handedness as it was easier to turn my vehicles to the left! There were no accidents. Purely because there was no violence anywhere. Roads were calm and people drove at leisurely speeds, so typical of Mysore of yore, I can boldly say. The early sixties had no movies to influence driving stunts and destroying cars. The famous Grand Prix movie came later. But the Circus Car impressed me with its jump! It would be driven at great speed up a gradient and then land at the centre of the arena with a thud.. aah, that was an impressive scene prompting my replaying using an examination clip board raised by a few books!


My favourite toy was the one on the left. It was a gift to me from a relative (C.Srikantia) who had been to Japan for his studies as early as the 1930s. Since his only daughter had outgrown toys, he was kind enough to give it as well as many other items which still decorate our showcase. That car had provision for batteries and had lights (I spoiled all the beautiful little milky bulbs during my experiments), its front wheels could be turned by hand and I found it so thrilling to watch the car turn on its own as I simply pushed! This beautiful car - my Rolls Royce - has run many a mile on my carpet road!

(Posing for this blogpost, I flew back to those days! Cameras were not so easily available to freeze memorable moments then!)

The "London Open Bus" did not run much though it had a steering wheel that turned the front wheels because its tyres had worn out and was running on its rims - could have damaged my roads! We complain of bad roads, but this was a complaint of the bad tyres, much like those steel-ringed bullock cart tyres damaging newly laid tar roads!

In the 1960s I was inspired in my 'carpet driving' by our 'family taxi' bearing number 77, driven by one Khalaq who was often hired to take us to Nanjandud's Srikanteswara Temple. I imitated his actions on my carpet with my toys. There were no plastic toys, but only spring-wound toys shaped from tin sheets. Rubber tyres were making their entry into toy cars. I found those cheap ones fitted with them unsuitable as they were usually ''push back and leave" type. They strayed off my carpet roads!

My two children also have played on it as it used to be spread out on the floor every day, rolled up when the maid servant came for sweeping/mopping. When little kids 'wetted' on it, it was time to dry it out in the sun!

Dust was not a problem in the house in the house we grew up. When I brought it with me about ten years ago to start living my 1911 ancestral house, it was a problem because traffic became heavy.

As such, maintaining our beloved 'RatnakambLi' which is quite adept at collecting dust in large volumes and too quickly made us to think twice for its regular use. So, it was spread out in a small open room which we do not use regularly and it is where it now lies. A vacuum cleaner would have made things easier then, but by the time this machine came home (only this month), the beautiful carpet had already faded and become unfit for regular use in the living area.

The natural aging process and slowly on the way out. It is at a "can't keep, can't use and can't throw" stage.

Even if we throw it out one day, memories of our humble 'RathnakambLi' will linger on for ever.

The Perfect Head

"Hair by hair maks the carl bare", says an old Scottish proverb. The head of hair is homo sapiens' crowning glory. It is for this reason that even a little loss of hair on the crown or its whereabouts, makes the young man under it panic. Panic, because this 'thinning process' is famous for its irreversibility.

Baldness, or alopecia, is a gift handed down through the genes. Though it is a harmless physiological disorder, its virtue of giving an illusion of oldness creates an odd feeling in the 'unfortunate' person. Medical science is yet to find an effective cure. In spite of this, we hear of ads with 'before and after' pictures having fooled gullible men. But a shallow "cure" is on the market - the wig!

"Baldy" is a popular pet name for a bald-headed or even a balding man, often referred behind his back. It sounds so nice and smooth! Baldness is a scourge and nature's malediction, having a potential to affect wedlocks. But when you look at the positive side, it can save the worry about hair-do, hair oil, shampoo and combing time. The head-bath becomes far smoother! But the tall baldy will curse his height when he bumps his vertex against a doorframe.

Baldies make the job easier for the barber but there are no concessions on offer. It is hard to identify a hiding-under-a-wig baldy because those wigs look so very natural. But some wear that shame-proud look.

Naked pates are concealed with unique methods. My friend Haridas has grown hair on one side of the head, long enough to arrange those available strands neatly to cover his shiny vertex, from pinna to pinna. He is always armed with a pocket-comb because his enemy is the sudden gust of wind. I have seen another dark middle-aged 'bold' baldy in a crowd. Believe me, he had conspicuously black-dyed his entire head, yes, entire head, to imitate a crop of hair. There are some who start wearing a cap once they notice the receding hairline. It only contributes in hastening the process. The more it is thought of, or looked at in the mirror, the speedier it recedes, up, up and behind! My pen friend Prabhakaran sent his second picture, five years after the first 'hairy picture'. His top had "blown off". He had given an explanation: "…due to too much study…". He had become a professor.

One middle-aged Nayyar from Delhi and I meet for our respective cricket teams, annually. But last time round, his appearance cheated me! After some teasing, he revealed with a wink that he wanted to look younger and so he had undergone a complicated fifteen-thousand-rupee-3-month-"weaving" treatment to his pate. A few others 'run for cover' and buy themselves a wig.

When I was a kid, I used to fondle my maternal grandpa's balding head, which had a traditional "juttu" (tuft). Why me, he himself was caressing it when he had nothing else to do. Just look at a baby's astonishment when it sees or lays its soft palm on the hard and smooth surface when the bald grandpa plays with his grandchild! To kids, most bald men are 'tata' (meaning grandfather). But agree they wont, even if that poor young fellow is a 'victim' of alopecia. Guess what my balding friend Ravi's most treasured thing? It is his own photograph taken in his "hair-days".


The bald pate is a good site for tattooing too.

There are a few 'bald men clubs' like this one in active existence, enjoying their commonness. Hair or no, what is of value is the content inside the cover, much like a coconut. Curves are naturally appealing. Ask any cartoonist how they enjoy drawing a Gandhi, Yul Brenner, Churchill, Lenin, Seshan, UR Rao, Anupam Kher, or a Brian Close…. The list goes on. Brian Close, the England Cricket captain revealed when he was bald enough to say that his childhood dream was realized: he had always wished to go bald whenever his mother pulled his hair.

Samuel Hoffenstein in Songs of Faith in Year After Next says:

Babies haven't any hair;
Old men's heads are just as bare;
Between the cradle and the grave
Lies a haircut and a shave.

God only made so many perfect heads. The rest he covered with hair!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Here is a league of bald headed men.

There are jokes and cartoons too about the subject!

Famous photo-journalist T.S.Satyan has his blog on the same subject here (scroll down to get that)

Sports in the blood

This 1888 testimonial of my great grandfather K.Mylar Rao (he spelt as Malhari Rao earlier) says that he had a good physique and was an ardent cricketer in his college days. He was good at Bridge (cards) and played some tennis also in his later years. He was a life member of Cosmopolitan Club and Mysore Sports Club, Mysore after he retired from service in 1926.

Surely he must have had a good physique as I am told he took regular strolls and used the dumb bells to maintain his body and health. He must have been a supreme example of a healthy mind in a healthy body - he was an avid reader too which the big library suggests.

My grandfather K.M.Subba Rao was even better. He was a much renown sportsman esp. in his heydays and even till the end, aside from his profession as a respected, renown (and honest, I must proudly add) lawyer and a distinguished citizen of Mysore.

H.H. The Maharaja of Mysore, Sri Jayachamaraja Wadiyar hands over the cup to Subba Rao for Golf at the Mysore Sports Club's tournament, about 1966, at the MSC grounds as Farrokh Irani looks on.


Probably this picture was taken in 1952 at the Cosmopolitan Club during a Tennis tournament. His good friend BS Dattatri is to his right, extreme left.

Madras Christian College Cricket Team, Winners of Inter-Collegiate Cricket Shield, 1918.

Subba Rao is the non-striker at the far end in this picture, probably of the early 1950s or thereabouts, playing in a Lawyers tournament [most likely]. The ground is the "Ovals" [now the Athletic Ground opposite Crawford Hall]. In the background is the Maharaja's / Yuvaraja's College Buildings and the Oriental Research Institute.


This must be a picture of the early 1930s. One of the few where both KM Subba Rao and his father K Mylar Rao are in together [see marked arrows]. Also together in this are HH Krishnarajendra Wadiyar IV, HE Kanteerava Narasa Raja Wadiyar (The Yuvaraja of Mysore) and a young Sri Jayachamaraja Wadiyar and Sir Mirza Ismail. The building is of the Mysore Sports Club. Probably this is a group of elite Mysoreans who are sports-lovers. Mylar Rao was also a keen sportsman skilled in Cricket in his younger days, Tennis and Bridge. Mysore Sports Club was formed later. The building is still there but a facade has come up.

Below is a letter from J.G.Tait to K.M.Subba Rao. Tait was his teacher at Presidency College, Madras. Tait remembers his student with great affection and shares his feelings like a friend. He remembers a few other names also so vividly even after many years after his retirement. It shows how that bondage between the teacher and pupil was in those days. Subba Rao and Tait exchanged letters even after Tait went back to England in the early 1920s after his retirement. Apart from Subba Rao's all-round talent Tait in this letter remembers a cricket match:

[ Page 4 and 1 here] - click to enlarge and read

[ Page 2 and 3 here] - click to enlarge and read

On the left side, which is page 2 of the letter, Tait vividly remembers one of Subba Rao's famous bowling spells where he had turned the match in one over by taking "four of their best wickets". It was for Presidency College (in 1920) against Madras Christian College. He also feels sorry when he came to know about the accident Subba Rao sustained and had to stop playing cricket [it might have happened a few months or a couple of years before 1926]. He used to describe the incident to us, showing his little finger that had broken while taking a catch. That little finger can be seen in one of the pictures I am with him [in one of my other posts].

Notable is J.G.Tait, his teacher, seated centre in the picture below.

Presidency College Athletic Association -Cricket & Hockey, Madras, 1919-1920.

Presidency College Football Team, Madras, 1919-20

Medals and Trophies in the showcase.
Left Picture - of 1920s; Right Picture - 1952.

Grandfather KM Subba Rao with his treasured trophies won in many sports: Athletics, Badminton, Billiards, Bridge, Cricket, Football, Golf, Hockey and mainly Tennis. What a list!

I am told by Capt. P.Alasingachar (P.A.Char), who was a schoolmate of my father K.S. Ramachandra Rao that he too was very talented in Football but his poor eyesight curbed it greatly. My father was fond of telling that once his nose was struck from one side by a football and turned it to that side, but another blow from the other side a few years later almost straightened it. But I have seen him play Table Tennis with great skill as he used his spin to great effect and Bridge in which he was quite an exponent.

Ramachandra Rao is seen in the above picture, top row in his father's Mysore Sports Club Blazer. He represented his Institute in Bridge, 1976.

So much of my forefathers.

In the above picture, I walk off after a memorable bowling spell (the captions tells most) that won our CSIR team the final match at Nagpur, 2001.

When sports is in the blood, we will not be discouraged at home. Sports gives us so much in terms of joy and friends and develops a personality while it teaches life through its successes and failures, importance of hard work, discipline, etc. Sports makes us as people! It teaches many lessons, if only they are pursued in true spirits.

My own tryst with Cricket has been put together in my blog separately. I have tried my hand in sprints, long jump and tennis and it was only then I realized how hard it is to be proficient in more than one sport and that is where the greatness of my grandfather is to be admired.

B.S CHANDRASEKHAR, nephew of Subba Rao. Each time Chandra took a 'five-for', he used to congratulate him by writing a letter.

Sports in the blood is quite a fortunate thing to be blessed with!