That scented eraser

One fine day around 1966, before the mass prayer in school, my classmate Dayananda was proudly, gleefully displaying that big, crisp ten rupee note to us. We 3rd Standard boys were quite stunned to see him with such a fortune in his hands! Ten rupees!! That was not yet a 'pocket money' age for us then and we were not bought things unless absolutely necessary.  I learn long later that the Rupee had full value in the economy during that time and in general people spent money very judiciously. Dayananda came from a rich business family, in fact used to live close to our house. 

This is how the big ten rupee was.  It is from the same period, from my collection.  'Signed by PC Bhattacharya'. Front view.

Reverse.

So that 'fine day' was also to turn out to be a day when we learnt some life lessons. Perfumed erasers [we called 'scent rubbers'] had begun to enter Indian shops.  In no time it seemed to have become popular, attracting school children. We were told they were imported from Japan. The main body of the eraser was soft and white, with letters of the English alphabet one on each were in the box.  A corresponding picture accompanied the letter. There was also a green 'strip', somewhat translucent, on the 'top'. The eraser had a pleasantly sweet fragrance and that I can still smell that sweetness shows how deep it has an impression in my mind.  There will be certain little things like this that sticks on in the memory for a very long time, in many of us. 

Parents were pestered to buy this 'expensive', dream rubber that cost a hefty fifty paise each, a whopping five times dearer than their best Indian counterparts. The 'local' erasers we were bought were hard and erasing was akin to scratching.  They were also leaving a mess and sometimes even making a hole in the paper.  But these new scent rubbers gave an unbelievably smooth, clean erase leaving nearly no 'debris'.  What a joy!  Didn't we simply erase what we wrote just to use the eraser? Joy!  Those were still pencil days in 3rd std.

This 'rich' boy Dayananda had perhaps designed a plan for that day, with this 'big money'. We had finished our mid day meal from our little lunch boxes and somehow a group of 5 or 6 was formed. I can remember three of them - Manohar, Rajagopal and Srinivas. Soon we were heading for the nearby shop, called "New Corner" [really 'new' at that time and thriving even today]. He used to keep small stationery items, peppermints, etc.  The shop also sold this wonder rubber. In those days, ten rupees could buy a lot of things.  So besides scent rubbers, he bought us chocolates and pencils of our choice for the entire ten rupees and our pockets were filled with these 'generous gifts'. Time had halted while we were happily feasting at the counter. 

So much excited we were with Dayananda's 'treat' that we had lost track of the length of time we spent at New Corner and completely oblivious of what was in store back at school, we leisurely walked back admiring the new possessions in our little pockets.  It also had not occurred to us the fear of being asked esp. at home "where did you get all those?".  

As it was, we were quite late for the afternoon session. We were shocked to see the premises 'silent and empty'.  The afternoon session had started, we never guessed how long before. So we were caught coming late. We were so frightened, somewhat guilty to ask permission to enter the class.  As feared, we were made to stand outside the class and the matter was duly reported to the strict Head Mistress. Interrogation revealed the truth. We were warned and let in to attend the class but the 'ten-rupee-boy' was retained for further inquiry.

The following day, his parents were called and the boy was reprimanded. That money was supposed to be remitted by him as school fee [it was Rs.5/- per month], but the temptation and boldness to buy the scent rubber had got the better of him. He joined another school for his 4th for different reasons.

The incident had taught us a lesson about what squandering money was all about and how bad it can be esp. at such young ages.  Dayananda is around and we meet very occasionally.  I had once asked him if he remembered the scent rubber shopping spree, but his memory of that was zero, but the scent of the rubber and of the 'feast' still lingers in mine, never to be erased.  

* * * * *

How did the eraser look like?

 I now add the picture of that rubber, thanks to one Mr. Ankur who gave the link  [Hong Kong Museum] in the comment intimating where the image is on the net.  Here it is, the screenshot:

Hitting and Kicking

Hitting or kicking is our common instinct to let out built-up anger. Two incidents proved I was no exception. Blood really boils in the teens and early twenties, does it not?

The first one was during my early high school days. Narayana (around my age) was a boy who worked as a helper at my friend’s house and used to occasionally join us for street cricket and other games. He was allowed this bit of time. Teasing with irrelevant nicknames was common but they were usually overdone to irritate. 

Another senior street mate had started calling me as monkey.  It was fine if it was for some occasional fun.  But he had been calling frequently and it was 'overfun' for me.  I did not like it one bit.  Other boys also had picked this up. 

One evening, I lost my tolerance with Narayana overdoing this and everybody knew it. An impulsive kick into his ‘most sensitive anatomical part’ was the result. He fainted.  This made us very anxious, esp. a timid me and think of a timid fellow resorting to such a measure! He recovered after a few minutes, much to my 'delight'.  Play was stopped and I and went home after friends pacified us down. For the next few months, I even avoided his house for my school route, fearing retaliation and also avoided play when he was around. But much to my relief, nothing happened till he was sent away. Peace for me, returned and I was stopped being called a monkey henceforth.

During my college days, my friend Venky’s friend had a nasty habit of saying ‘hello’. He would forcefully push his fingers from a high back swing [as in sport] into shirt-pockets of those he met. He was not that close a friend to me to be greeting me that way. One evening, this crazy friend met me and Venky but he first did it to me! The pocket tore off! Venky could not believe his eyes and ears. I was hurling abuses while hitting hard with a ‘bowling action’! (Cricket was our common factor) Venky tried to pacify but came in the way of my moving arm and got hit! Somehow the fight ended. At that time, Venky had borrowed a book for me, from him. I never returned it deliberately, because he had torn off my only ‘terrycot’ shirt! I never met this fellow again.

The recipients might not have learnt their lessons but I slowly did. For, they were the only times these instincts were let out outside home -– *wink*. Witness Venky remembers one of them, my only kick. Looking back, it is a funny feeling. But beware the fury of the patient man!

Namma Mysooru Nirmala Mysoora?

[The accompanying pictures have been taken fresh as well as from my few-months-old files.]
~~~~~~

"Nirmala Mysooru". We want that, but it seems a long way away. Just look at the problem-scenes near one of the more important roads and its crosses in as important a locality as Lakshmipuram, just outside the precincts of our home that faces Vani Vilas Road, just for an example. If such things can be here, that can be everywhere. And they are! Whom to blame? The authorities or the public, or both? I list below some common problems that the residents of our house face day in and day out and not other houses, because they are the careless contributors to the filth and unhygeine. We have to suffer for no fault of ours!

Garbage clearance, garbage burning - a burning problem:Elderly pourakarmika lighting fire to his small swept up heap - there are bigger heaps, often! He is unafraid of complaints and says on my asking 'who has asked you to burn them', he says "they only have told me, you go!"

The corner of Lakshmipuram I main and I cross is a 'popular' place where all manner of dirt and waste are thrown. The generators of such waste are the nearby homes, with the exception of ours. It is mostly the 'elite' who generate lots of plastic waste and their servants dump dump at that place. Some are instructed by their owners to light a match and burn them and if not, some rag-picker or scavengers that loiter around burns it. This happens at any time. Frequently, the corporation pourakarmikas also do this to their swept up heap to avoid getting cleared by the garbage truck. The garbage truck sometimes picks up the heap and they are happy to see the ash pile of burnt waste! Automobile shops throw waste electric wires which are collected by the rag pickers who burn off the plastic insulation to get copper wire which they sell off in gujaris. They do this adjacent to our compound wall by using thermocole and other plastic waste as fuel to burn! The usual garbage heap that goes for regular burning contains thermcole, disposed plastic covers, pet bottles, cotton pillows, sponge wastes, rexine waste pieces (from nearby upholstery shops), dry leaves, mowed off lawn, shrub branches, waste chemical powder [from a manufacturer next to the place] and all the dirt one can imagine. Often, cleaning and removal by the authorities is superficial. Early morning, the garbage truck clears the heap in the morning. But most of the problem begins after that. The servants visit their owners for work later and they do the 'disposal' at their own times which goes on till night. So they burn at any time!! Who are the sufferers? Our house residents. All the smoke that rise from there is carried by the breeze into our house and it keeps on burning for hours together and we have to keep inhaling the deadly smoke. As such burning of waste is poisonous to humans and also the environment. The 'elite', the rag-pickers, the pourakarmikas or the servants are not bothered about it [because they are not affected!] even if they are aware or unaware. I suggested shifting the dustbin [earlier there was one] to a location about 100 feet further westwards (which would be behind Sawday House) as the most suitable place considering the problems it is creating from its corner location, esp, to our premises. Many times, I have carried water all the way round and poured it on burning material. The garbage truck no doubt, picks up, but may be too early in the day and that too not every day -because they find only ash the next morning if they come!
This is in the evening. I asked my neighbour to pour water to the fire - fabrics and cotton, plastic and wood! Notice the rag-picker sorting his find - from the dustbin [now removed, but open for throwing around!]
Taken in th afternoon. The heap was burning/fuming for more than 2 hours and nobody cares!
This is on the other side of our house on Vani Vilas Road - another regular scene, right in front of a Nursing Home!
A big heap of uncleared plastic, fallen flowers paper and many materials ready for burning. Someone fired it.
We get to know only after the heap is fired and the smoke enters our house and that is when I run to see who did it, but no one is in sight. If I suspect anyone (though I know he/she did it) and ask, the answer is "I did not fire it."
This is on a different day - some coir, rubber, rexine, sponge, cotton - obviously from an upholstery shop, added to the already lying pile of waste and put on fire. That was deadly smoke and it was fuming for 5 hours. I had to put water from a pail eventually! Sometimes it fumes all night!

Footpath vendors: A mobile tea/food item vendor operates everyday. Water from washing used utensils along with left over food particles are thrown on the footpath making the area constantly wet, foul smelling and attracting flies. The customers have erected stone benches at convenient places that is being used by others also for other things that disturbs peace to residents of our house, besides unhygeinic conditions that affects mostly us. Aerial view of the vendors from our first floor -observe the sitting benches, etc.Preparing to leave after a day's work - look at the washed water in the foreground with footsteps, near our compound wallWaste water disposing by the vendor before closing time.

Storm water drain: The existing storm water drain adjacent to our compound was cleared of accumulated mud (from various digging works over the years) last year but it was only done in the stretch along the compound wall up to the corner facing Vani Vilas Road. This has a dead end where storm water and urine passed by numerous passers by gets accumulated in this. It has become a great breeding place for mosquitoes and a great nuisance with foul smell. Added to it, in spite of my protest, some lorry heaped a full load of rubble on to our compound wall facing the Vani Vilas Road. The stagnating water from that dead-end drain and this rubble which absorbs moisture is putting our compound wall in danger. The existing drain running at the base of our compound wall facing the Vani Vilas Road has been completely filled up from the digging work over the years and all the dirt and dirty water gets accumulated in front of our gates, due to the rise nearly two feet in the level of old "footpath" which is nothing but rubble, weed and dirt. The area where the food vendor operates has rain water and also his dish-washed water stagnating right on the asphalted road because of faulty sloping, a haven for mosquitoes and filth. Look at the slush in the storm water drain, after a rain - the far end has a dead end!!
This is the lorry emptying debris to our compound facing Vani Vilas Road despite my protest.

Plastic: All the sun screen radium sticker shops close by, use the area of the footpath near our premises for their work and all the torn and unwanted plastic pieces are strewn around at the place of work which flies around everywhere in the wind and even enters our premises. Not to mention the banned plastic covers that 'join the party'! Notice the worker sticking plastic to the car window.

Urination: The walls esp. facing either side of the I main road was a virtual open toilet at both day and night [affected from the nearby bar]. While renovating our compound wall 'God-image tiles' were used and a good majority of urinators have shifted to the opposite side wall that is not of a house. Yet, stink emanating from hundreds of urinators at the same place is nauseating and unbearable. Ours is the only house on this small stretch of road and we are the only sufferers!

Just a few of the pissing rascals.

When I went to the area corporator some time back, I was told that they were 'uncontrollable' problems, including urination!! They want house tax in time, they want votes from us! What do we get? Filth and poisonous smoke. And they talk of making Mysooru Nirmala.

I have seen such things happen in many areas of the city also. People, both the literate and illeterate resort to burning of waste material. People write in the papers to sort out garbage at the micro level itself before disposing off outside, but then it wont work. Because, the rag-pickers and those who loiter around open up and strew the contents around searching for their items of interest! The only solution is to ban throwing out any sort of garbage outside homes, but to dispose off only in containers directly to the garbage vehicle, which is not functioning in our locality.

Do not believe the advertisements that say Mysore is a garden city -- it was, decades back. It is now a garbage city and I'm not ashamed to tell this, having seen both the pre and post plastic eras. Things have changed under my very nose! But I hope the tables turn around.

What do we do now? Do the authorities want to educate the pourakarmikas, rag-pickers, slum dwellers, public, the so called elite, the literates, illiterates and everybody and strictly instruct them about the hazards of burning, importance of clean environment, about greenhouse gases, global warming....? Just a few persons write in the papers.. sounds nice to read, but read by just a small majority. It is the impact that is necessary and it has to come only from the relevant authority with a bang. The public must have an attitude to be responsible for keeping public spaces clean and neat. Without public cooperation, such things will only spread and become worse.

A few more shots:
Politician's temporary hoarding right in front of our premises: Later, the stumps of the two poles were left posing danger to pedestrians!! Looks beautiful, eh??

Vehicle-washing right in front of our gate: the vehicle belonging to a travel agency across the road is parked for long hours on the cross road.

My first bicycle and more..

My first bicycle
Cycle riding has always been fun to kids. We never had a tricycle, except for my father’s childhood tricycle which was unusable. So, like all children, there were silent dreams. Eight years old was too old for a tricycle and so it was time for bigger things. I was bought a blue-coloured little bicycle, with hard rubber tyres and support wheels for the rear wheel from the old Sachidananda Cycle Mart, [next to Olympia Theatre], whose owner was a client of my grand father and a very reliable supplier.

We used to be on the roads as freely as none can imagine now – they were all ours. Because of sparse traffic in those days with just an occasional bicycle or a scooter that passed by. Hardly few autorickshaws and cars to trouble the playing-on-the-street kids. Even then, my grandmother was scared of allowing me to go to the road with my little bicycle. My route was supposed to be within the sights of our Devaparthiva road and not anywhere beyond. But sometimes I would escape to the next road to make a ‘round’. I learnt to ride without those support wheels very quickly and even taking the hands off the handle, on the move. Scraped knees and elbows commonly resulted from the various acrobatics and stunts I enjoyed performing, mostly to please myself. I had seen them in circus but I did not know they were manipulated bicycles!! Decades later, this was given away to my twin cousins who used it before disposing it off. It lived more than its full life.

Our bicycles
In 3 or 4 years, I must have covered many miles on our own street alone, riding this little beauty. I was growing taller and was trying my hand at the three other senior bicycles we had at that time at home. One was my grandfather’s 1914-Sunbeam which he alone rode [which is still functional but put to rest, unable to maintain in condition]. The second was my father’s 1958 Raleigh [my maternal uncle lost it in the mid-eighties when he had parked near a bank -a great loss]. The third was my uncle’s 1958 Robin Hood [which had a shiny brass handle grip], which I still use even today with great pleasure. This was bought 'second hand' by him from that old cycle mart for Rs.150.

I had the liberty to use the last two. Often I would take one of them out to learn, with the ‘cross-pedal’ method because I was not tall enough to reach the seat. Scraped knees continued! Much blood was shed, but not tears!

Cycle mechanic
The only times I got chances to ride the Sunbeam were when my grandfather asked me to get the air filled at Shivaram’s shop [cycle mechanic at the end of the street]. I would pay two paise to fill air for one tyre of three paise for both. The rates were later raised to three and five paise. It was this Shivaram who repaired all our bicycles for nearly 40 years till recently, until one day we found that he was no longer fit and unable to walk or sit due to his bad knee. Another opportunity for me was when he [rarely] went on tour. He would ask me to ride a round and keep it back so that it does not get ‘rusty’. If anybody used it without his knowledge he would come to know just by the feel of it – such was his feel of his much cared vehicle that was always in top shape and both survived a minor accident once!

Me the mechanic!
I have once or twice ‘overhauled’ my Robin Hood and I enjoyed doing it to my own ‘machine’. Since tools were at home, I learnt meddling things which has helped! My father got me some tools and I later bought a pump that prevented me to run to the mechanic every time.

‘My’ Robin Hood
By my 12th and 13th year, I was tall enough to ride the Robin Hood from the saddle. After my uncle’s death, my maternal uncle was using it for a short time and later when my cousin needed it, it came back home. My cousin’s untimely death elevated me to the ‘ownership’ of this lovely bicycle when my younger brother was too small for it. I could go where I wished and found pride when I occasionally took it to my high school, though it was just a 10-minute walk from home. Taking cue from my grandfather, I too never liked it to be used by others and this trait in me is as famous as his! It has also participated in a few "slow cycle races" and won me a prize or two.

I still use it, though occasionally.
This is from Oct. 2009:

Creative Cariappa

There was a high-school classmate Cariappa. His creativity was applied to his Raleigh bicycle and used to copy some of them to my Robin Hood. The one that impressed me was the ‘brake light’ that delighted everybody. Apply the brake and a red light on the mud guard would light up. He had made a switch which I copied.

Our “flight” to Mandakalli
Now riding on long tours had been heard and we had not much chance because it was listed as adventurous. A group of senior neighbourhood boys [hope my memory of these names are right - Narendra, Raju, Hari, Ganapati] planned to ride to Mandakalli Airport about 4 miles away. 4 miles was a long way in those days! I joined that party one summer afternoon and I was about 14-15. I had seen Mandakalli only from the road which my grandfather never missed showing us on our trips to Nanjangud [after he showed us the 'Ennehole']. There were small planes that flew to Bangalore occasionally, but there was no regular service and my grandfather had flown to Bangalore once [1960s]. That it did in just 20 minutes amazed us compared to the 4 hours by the chug-chug train.

Our plan thrilled me so that I could get a chance to see a plane! I rode my Robin Hood but not informing home. The ‘long’ ride was a pleasure, but much to our disappointment, the aircraft was not there. By the time I returned home sheepishly, my grandmother was waiting at the familiar spot at the gate. About two hours must have passed since I went ‘missing’ and she was happy I had returned. Not much questions because we boys always went missing often as it was summer vacation. As long as I remained in her ‘sights’ she never worried.

To Somnathpur

http://www.mysore.org.uk/excursions/somnathpur.html
I was now grown up and had gained the confidence of the elders and another long trip on the bicycle fell in place. Our new group of cricket friends – 8 of us - had planned a trip to Somnathpur and T.Narasipur which was to be a 40 mile route. I had oiled my Robin Hood well and it did take me smoothly without a stutter. But the start was stuttered! Even before we left Mysore border, Kashi’s ‘foreign’ bicycle chain gave way and since it was a Sunday no mechanic had opened shop early in the morning. Another bicycle was got and all the rest of the group waited on the roadside till he came. There was a delay of more than an hour. It was the first time I saw the lovely temple of Somnathpur. Girish Nikam had joined our club and I had borrowed his box camera to take one roll of pictures – just 12. Our heavy food basket was carried by one boy and cycle repair kit by another.

I was stunned by the beauty of the stone carvings, esp. the lathe turned pillars [observe in the edge of this picture]and the perfect symmetry of design.

Picture above is the group Raju, Madhukar, Raghu, Ravindra [top], Devkumar, Venkatesh, Kashi and Murali.

Our return trip was via T.Narsipur where River Cauvery flows. Most of us had a second lunch there spending time near water. From here, tummies loaded, pedaling back home was the toughest part as we had to put all our might to beat the strong Aashada wind. One fellow was thrown off the road by the air pushed by a bus moving in the opposite direction!

When most of the others later bought scooters, we made a trip to Nagarahole (75 miles) and again to Srirangapatna (10 miles), but pedaling remains a ‘nothing-like-it’ fun.

I still prefer pedaling my good old Robin Hood to which I myself fitted recently with probably one of the last pairs of Dunlop cycle tyres available. Whenever I get the opportunity ‘he’ is always raring to take me anywhere!

P.S:

Browsing the Net, looking for Robin Hood, took me to an interesting site: http://www.jimlangley.net/brake/brake.html

Look here for a fantastic collection of Bicycle 'Head Badges'! Unique hobby.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/nottingham/360/raleigh_factory/factory_floor_01.shtml

The Raleigh Cycle Company manufactured Robin Hood bicycles. The head badge on my cycle says it was in Asansol, India. [parts perhaps assembled there]. On the handlebar, it is imprinted "Made in England".

Krishnaraja Police Station-Temple: memories

"Keep your bicycles in, bring stamp papers and pay the penalty." said the police constable to me and my friend who were riding out for some errand. He had caught us from behind an avenue tree trunk, for riding our bicyles without lights, a reasonably serious offence that brought in some revenue to the department. That happened right in front of the Krishnaraja Police Station, near old Agrahara. Riding without lights in front of a police station! How daring! I had the dynamo fitted, but its friction to the wheel meant extra pedaling effort and so I had kept it disconnected while my neighbour-friend, one Madhukara, had nothing at all. The year was about 1979.

Sheepishly obeying, we pushed our bicycles in to the police station's open yard marking the first time of my setting foot in a police station for a traffic offence. And, that was the first time I saw that lovely idol of Lord Krishna with the white cow. For a moment we thought we were not in a police station, but soon the constable drew our attention and pressurized us to rush to buy stamp papers from a vendor nearby. The value of the fine was Rs.10 and we bargained with the Inspector since we were students. He agreed that a paper worth eight rupees and fifty paise would be enough! We had some small coins in our pockets which came in handy! We were asked to sign on that blank stamp paper which we did and then we left home with our bicycles after leaving our names and addresses on a sheet of paper for him to fill up his cases.

The newspaper write-up [read by opening the picture] featuring this unique police station appeared in the local edition of a leading daily brought memories of my only visit to that unique temple-station. The title of that write-up could be an answer to why we were not asked for bribes! Read that clip, the station has an interesting history.

Dog-walkers' dirty menace

While watering the plants in the early mornings, I see dog-walkers on a stroll. Some with special and weird breeds that speak of owner's wealth, more than the fancy of keeping pets and showing it off. As faithful as these watchdogs are, they learn what their owners teach. Perhaps the first thing they teach the young puppy as soon as they bring home is ‘toilet training’. Initially, the owners wont mind the puppy ‘doing it’ anywhere inside their homes, just like their own kids and wont mind cleaning up the mess. They begin teaching the puppy to ‘do’ outside their homes, as they begin to grow up. I understand they learn quickly not to mess up ‘inside’ their owner's premise, but I wonder how they get so nicely trained up to do only in front of others’ houses on the streets!! It is the beautiful pets from well-to-do owners that get this sort of training as their brat sons or servants are those who usually take them out for ‘walks’. I have had to argue with such dog-walkers when they happily watch their beloved pets defecating right in front of our gate! You know what they say? One told me to build a compound wall up to the road, the other tells that the area outside the gate is the property of the corporation and hence he has every right to do anything there! Another says that it was not his dog's shit, pointing to that one-day-old mess and another two-day-old one.... and his dog sniffing there again!

I always wonder why they wont train their pets to defecate in front of their own gates!

Sometimes stray dogs are better than those pampered pets. In an educated manner they choose spots where no one walks, very much unlike male humans who ease themselves at any wall, anywhere and in the presence of anybody around! At least the dogs do not know ‘shame’.

People express their anguish in newspaper columns about such things as levying fine to the offending owners, but then who will do the watchdog work to do that, 24x7? This is not America or Europe where people follow the rules laid down by the administration be it anything. (How one wishes such a sense prevailed here too!) A dog should not be taken out without a leash means they should not take without a leash, whether somebody watches to punish or not. Or, if they take a dog out and if it defecates in public, it is the owner’s responsibility to clear it immediately. Here the same things are ‘different’! The whole city is theirs when they go on regular “dog-walking” errands.

One Andy Rooney said in a famous quote: “The average dog is a nicer person than the average person.” The reason a dog has so many friends is that he wags his tail instead of his tongue, unlike his owner! And for no fault of mine, I have had to wag my tongue for the wonderful toilet training of somebody’s pet!

Mysore was a renown city for cleanliness. If minds of pet-owners were not spoilt to that level, I would have got a more responsible reply from those two 'gentle-youngmen'. Who knows, they might want to watch with a vengeance their pets repeating the act in the coming days, in the same place!

Tribute to Srinivasa Rao

In the last post I mentioned about a unique 'dosa eaters group' [will not detail here - the picture above is at Vidyarthi Bhavan, Bangalore - read My Masale Dose Blog ].

Mr.Kodagenahalli Bhimsena Rao Srinivasa Rao [his full name and in light blue shirt] was the senior most of that group of four. He has passed on on 10th March, 2008 after a brief illness, aged 79. He was my colleague in office for 8 years till he retired in 1990. Even thereafter, the link remained in tact esp. through the above group.

One of our other senior colleagues had asked him to 'take retirement' during a heated argument and Rao was not fully at fault. His famous retaliatory remark in the heat of the moment 'I will retire YOU from this world' has stayed on, but Nature gave Rao the retirement, 25 years later. He and his wit will be missed.

A simple man with great wit and and sense of humour, he would always keep sharing jokes. One special knack of his was to pull out an apt joke to suit the subject of conversation that was on. His astounding memory for facts too deserves accolades. He used to come to collect his pension in the bank in the campus and never missed joining us - our reputed group for coffee at the canteen [he choose that time - finding us together was assured!]. He would share his humour and then go about his business. He concealed his dire difficulties on the family front through his wit. Perhaps it made him lighter in the mind. Some people resort to drinking and smoking to "solve" the difficulties, but fortunately he probably resorted to humour. But he had a very short stint 'behind the fire'.

He was fond of remembering this incident:
He was into smoking for a short period many decades back. He wanted to quit that habit. So he went to a temple and vowed in front of God not to smoke in future and came out. Very soon after, he got an irresistible urge. So he smoked a cigarette again. He came back to the temple and withdrew his vow!! He had left smoking slowly thereafter!

The way he described the many jokes and anecdotes was unique. His specialty was repeating the same sentence as he went on, laced with uncontrollable laughter that rushed through his old teeth!

His love and enthusiasm for cricket even at that age was quite something. They never waned. He deeply followed esp. Indian cricket and knew things beyond the common cricket fan as he was a fine critic too - he was a player himself in his younger days, a good leg-spin googly bowler. He used to tell about how he stood behind the nets when the great Y.S.Ramaswamy was bowling in the nets. He was a great fan of E.A.S. Prasanna. He had seen many International stars from close quarters through his acquaintances at the Cricket Association by working as a volunteer for International/Test matches in Bangalore. He enjoyed like a child, doing that bit. On his return he would always share with me [another cricket-enthusiast] in detail about what went on. Even at his age of 74-75 he had gone to volunteer in a match and thereafter he found it difficult to travel alone, even though he was quite fit and healthy.

He had great fancy for buying lottery tickets! He sometimes used to win small prizes but he never took this gambling too far as to make his family suffer. He used to ask me to buy a few one-rupee tickets from the places in different states I visited for my cricket, annually. He got great thrill in checking the results in the papers when I handed them out to him on my return. Sometimes those tickets were lucky enough to get back the sum. Perhaps he bought them in the hope of alleviating the circumstances, only he knew. But Lady Luck stayed away, but handed him bigger-than-small amounts [part of which was again converted into new tickets!] on just a few occasions.