An ethical conflict

Last week, in IIMA campus, the mail came from our program co-ordinator, Jatin. The mail listed out around 40 people & asked all of them to immediately check their iima e-mail. The e-mail he was referring to was a particular mail from Deeptesh Ghosh, decision making course faculty. DG asked these 40 people to come & meet him in his office immediately.

40 people were called for an inquiry to prove that there was no malpractice in the last week DM quiz paper. How he found, these 40 people have copied shows IIMA's intellectuality

Usually in IIMA, almost half the afternoons, we have quizzes. There is no such thing as seperate exam hall for giving our quizzes. so, we people sit in their own adjacent seats. This can facilitate copying. to stop this, what our IIMA professors normally do is "give 2 or more sets of question paper. only numbers or question sequence will change". Everything else, the concept, syllabus & the way to approach remains same for all 315 PGP students. This way one cannot copy unless otherwise he can see the second person sitting away from him.

After getting used to these things, students usually look for some changes b/w adjacent question papers. Either set a or b will be mentioned on the top. Or a hidden mark like change in page number format(like i,ii,iii....., 1,2,3......., !,!!,!!!) will implicitly mean which set the question paper is. If there is no explicit mentioning, students will start comparing first few questions. If questions are same, then students will look at the number inputs given in the question. Luckily, if everything happens to be the same, then they will not hesitate to copy or at least cross-check the answers with neighbors.

What happened in last week's DM quiz was entirely different. There were 5 questions on the first page and 2 questions on the second page. First page problems were all same in all aspects. Second page problems were in the same sequence. Same numerical data was given. Most people noted that they gave only one question paper set for all & happily copied every answer.

A graph sheet and rough sheet was given to do all back-end work. At the end, he asked all of us to tie both the papers to the answer sheet and return it back.

But there was a twist. DG didn't make any change in the numerical data. He made the change in the theory part where none will notice. It was like --- For one student, the given new inputs are for "assembling" department & for the next person, the inputs are for "packaging" department. Except for this one change, everything else was similar. It is natural that one will not go and check every possible word in their question papers. It is impossible too. So those two questions, whoever gave set A's answer when their question is Set B & whoever gave set B's answer when their answer is set A were asked to come and explain(all fill in the blanks kind of numerical questions).

to everyone, DG said "if you people can just explain me how you got the answers & i can accept that, then there will be no issue. if you fail to answer how you got this answer, i will presume you copied & everyone of you will be given 'F' - fail grade in your quiz component".

Those who copied really couldn't convince DG that they didn't copy. There was no rough work done on the rough sheet, thus deriving the wrong answer. There was no feasible method to derive set B's answers for set A's questions. Some said "they mis read the question". DG rejected saying " I couldn't digest". Some said that they were highly ethical. But in the last minute, there was some copying going on in the back bench. Unvolutarily, he heard the answer & he couldn't resist copying. Nothing convinced him. Those who sent him mail accepting that they copied were given F grade immediately. those who didn't were sent to the review committee to convince the third party people that they didn't copy since DG's views might be biased.

DG's talent to make both the question papers look identical with a hidden change is admiring. like a Davinci's painting with hidden signs. It is advisable for all iima students not to copy unless otherwise they are thoroughly sure that both the question papers are same. but this normally won't be the case. So it is better to study well than focusing on copying.

Slot-3 vacation((

Post slot-3 exams, I had my summer placements. It went on for 4 days and I got my job on 4th day. The experience was bitter and it changed me a lot. It forced me to cut down my expectations and start questioning my first 3 slot activities inside iima. I learned a lot for the exams. Outside that, I took part in nothing big. No extra curricular worth mentioning. I am still the same saravana out from school where I wanted to be part of every extra curricular activity but couldn't get into any of them. I question myself why I am not able to passionately pursue any extra curriculars. Is it my academic focused brought-up or my non-partying nature that isolates me from others. No clues. But i have the hope i will find one place in this soceity where i can fit in.

In the vacation time, my plans were to watch one movie in local theater - barely 20 persons would be there, you can stretch your arms & legs and none will come and question you. Once in half an hour, the snacks man in his lungi will come with a big tin plate and serve you bread buns, vadas, barpees, at your place.

spend good time with my grandma - one reason is my grandma's superb cooking skills. i remember her once making a curry with around 20s of greens mixed in that - thuthu valai, grass, siru keerai, pudina keerai, erukallam poo, thoi keerai etc.... She went out in the morning and plucked anything that caught her attention. When she came back, she was having a big collection tied in her waist saree. It tasted different and i still remember that. Sometimes, in her outside kitchen, she makes kali from ragi for feeding to the buffaloes. Even those kali urundais when mixed with buttermilk, it tastes nice. There is something that lies with my grand ma that even my mother doesn't inherit.

Go to as many relatives houses as i can. i enjoy this. most of the times, you will be served a nice meal on a plantain leaf. Typically, it contains paruppu(dhal), rasam(tamarind or horse gram ), curd at the end. After all that, they will you give a banana as is the tradition. I am always interested in meeting new people and watching how they behave and what they do.

First post from IIMA

With Madhavan's train journey to IIM,Ahmedabad forced to get cancelled in the last minute thanks to his mother citing holy stupid reasons, his flight journey via Bangalore was scheduled to be on 31st May. For him, Bangalore was not new as it had sheltered him for the past 3 years that as well consists his horrible IT experience in Huawei. Yes, the company experience was uneventful, routine, boring, non-progressive, tiring, exhausting, containing his thoughts. But the choice was his and if someone needed to be blamed for this, none is the better choice than himself. But then, it was the time to shed all those bitter past and fly high with his mind racing over to figure out how it would be in Ahmedabad. The so called academic rigour did terrify him a lot to get worried often about the validity of his choice in taking IIMA. Ahmedabad is new for him and IIMA was everyone's dream, the place one dies to be in, the den where you could get to be with hundreds of elite brains. And so, there is nothing for him to lose with this choice.

Not accustomed to flight journey, the sight of the voluminous air-planes, ear breaking noises, tasteless fast foods, strolleys impregnated with luggages and not to miss, air hostesses and their well-practiced smiles all were new but not appealing. Inside the plane, the pilot was making his magic by moving in and out of cirus&nimbus clouds, passengers playing with artistically crafted scramble boards, cartoon books and some were peeking in through the window to have a holy glimpse of the whole India diversified culture. Though, Gujarat was not looking so fertile and it was all barren lands with marks of harvest but no green at then. The roads were bent like hair-pin bends and most were untarred roads, even my macroscopic view of the land didnt bring any so called Modi's developments into my view. Might be, it was too much to expect the North to be in level with the South India. In South, even if one climbed a small top, he would get the glimpse of heaven facing gopuras with their demonic idols holding the gopura's weight with their muscular hands, corporate offices, lodges. Sardhar Vallabhai airport came and there started Madhavan's venture into the North.

IIM campus was breath-takingly simple like a forbidden building and people call this as a classical architecture. There were no banners, no round-arenas infront, no shops or gardens in its front side. Madhavan fellt more like venturing into the dark caves with its round holes and narrowly cut openings(doors) and the cracked open brick lay-outs put the same thougths into his mind. Who knows, at the end of his two years tenure, he might come with a knowledge treasure. The dorm rooms were not so spacious but the highlight was rooms were open-ended with a big back door like the ones they used to close the palace passages once the elephant procession makes its move. It was sultry and the neem's smell as always made him feel better. The mess food was non-spicy, daal was vomittingly tasteless, the chilli here could more aptly put under beans family plus the omnipresent potatoes, the scrambled and boiled eggs, omlettes. Cut mangoes, bananas, water melon, lime juices... these all being his favourites and served once in a while, he was hopeful of surviving with this mess food. One thing not to miss was the curd, tasting awesome especially after the bangalorean pocket curds.

Classes started on june-1st, first session taken by Gokhale. "we know you cannot finish what we load you with as homework in 24 hrs. Things depend on how fast you finish your work to take some sleep. In the start, there could be some illness when you don't get enough sleep. These things will soon go away once you get practised". Scary, was not it? Professors came with their academic associates(AA). It was said the professors time are too precious to valuate the papers or to clean the board or to organise teams. These, all should be in its place before the prof. enters the class. Particuarly, he liked his English Madam pop-cut Meenakshi. Her tones, modulation, eye contact, content sometimes made rich with their distorted personal experiences, plus class-exercises, feedbacks, presentations everything was quite enjoyable.

My MBA interviews(First three)

xlri interview:
on 24/02 in RainTree Hotel,
A bit excited and being happy to be in chennai after a considerable gap, I reached RainTree hotel, 1 hr before. Time did fly off,
peeping into others extracurriculars and making last min. changes in the file.
Interview:
Three persons were there.
P1: So how far is salem from chennai
M: Sir, it comes around 400 kms.
P1: you have one steel plant in salem, right?how does it help your people
M: brings employment. (.........)
P1: Ok, tell me some steel plants other than salem and Jamshedpur
M: Rourkela, Bhilai
P1: where are they
M: R in Orissa, Bhilai- somewhere in central India
P1: what and all rawmaterials you needed for making Stainless steel
M: iron, coating material
P1: from where do you get this.
M: No idea, sir.
P1: Pakistan keeps bullying India for Kashmir. What do you opine abt this.
M: It is by accident that India got Kashmir thanks to the Hindu king during independence. To keep it with India or to be given to
Pakistan, the vote needs to come from Kashmiri people.
P1: what is the Kashmir King's dynasty name.
M: no idea sir.
(somehow, talk went to be about tibet.)
P1: who is the head of Tibet
M: Dalai Lama
P1: where does he reside
M: usually in Tibet, whenver China tightens its restrictions, he comes to India for sanctuary
P1(laughs): he is there in India. Nt following Newspapers ha. where is his asylum
M: Sikkim
P2: heard of Dalhousie ever in your life
M: NO sir.
P1: It is in Himachal. Have you ever gone to North
M: NO sir.
P1: having a passport
M: yes sir. I was made to have under my company policies. Useful in case of emergencies.
(passes on to P2)
P2: Tell me one socialist country
M: cuba.
P2: where is it.
M: Nt that comfortable with Geography.
P2: what is capitalism
M: keep the owners happy, it assumes benefits will be passed on to the poor.
P2: which match india is going to play tom.
M: i dont follow cricket sir. donno what is so crazy in that. Everyone keeps running after that.
P2(laughs): then, what do you do in your free time.
M: watching movies, mainly art.
P2: for example
M: Earth, Salaam Bombay. I like Nandita Das, Shabana Azmi,....
P2: shabana acts in commercial movies
M: there is nothing truly classifed as commercial or art
P2: you only said that.
M: art movie, it is more closer to the director's heart. No audience, no money making. It is for his own satisfaction.
(P3)
P3: you have mentioned you want to become an enterpruner. Any plans
M: going to start one sago factory. Take tapioca products from farmers and process that.
P3: explain the process
M: chop that, drip the water, put it for drying and then sell it as starch. one problem is people keep storing dumps of starch thus
making a virtual market for that. But then, there is a natural control. They cannot keep it for long, thanks to it decaying nature.
P3: that's all. we have done with
P2: nice speaking with you.
Done(25 mins)

IIMA interview:

Two prof's were there
P1(very friendly): so, where do you stay
M: koramangala
P1: it is a posh area, na.
M: if you go a bit interior, you can have a cheaper room, sir.
P1: were you reporting to chinese people, when you were in huawei
M: no sir, they come only for technical stuff.
P1: It is our people who manages you
M:......
P1: what is your opinion on them
M: they work hard but are not that smart. keep brush, paste everything behind their cubicles and dont know to seperate work and family
(some talk went on about why they are not that smart. i could nt give many points on this. )
P1: But, china is having a better voice in the world. Even now, one US state secretary came to China. who is that
M: Holbrooke
P1: but he is an ambassador
M: i dont know sir(it's hilary)
P1: nt reading newspapers. is china having veto power in security council
M: yes, but india does nt have.
P1: then, why do you say we are smarter. we dont have much power
M: UN is having nothing in its back, in terms of money and army. No point in having a membership in that.
P1: But then China is more developed than us.
M: but we are competing in services sectors
P1: that's what we keep saying
M: GDP is nt the only thing we can use to measure a country's development.
P1(ending it & smiling): chinese will make you believe, you are smarter. But they will outsmart you.
P1: three pts how we can beat china
M: make our products better saleable like we got slumdog...
P2: you say, slumdog is an Indian movie. you know who is the director. sound engineer.
M:.....
M: something is happening in Mumbai. that's why , they come here and shoot the movie
P2: seen chandni chowk to china? 70 percent ofmovie is shot in china. Again you say, it is an indian movie as it has indian touch
M: If the movie says more about chinese culture and it is closely connected their life-style, it is a chinese movie, sir
P2(got convinced): how does DevPatel stand a chance in bollywood
M: acting concepts of bollywood and hollywoood differs.
P2(stopping me): even i have some similar opinion on this. opening the marksheet, what is your fav. subject
M: Digi
P2: You all say the same thing.
M: might be, it is more concrete.
P2: diff. b/w analog and digi
M: in digi, we always have either this or that. Nothing in b/w/
P2: why cannt you say AND is a universal gate.
M: explained on that.
Done(20 min).

IIMB interview:
GD: does india need to go for more number of small states.
Faculty: AshishMishra, Jagadish.
P1: tell me abt yourself.
M: .....
P1: what is minimum skip distance
M: dont know sir.
P1: frequency used for transmitting DTH signal
M: C band(mother of all my miseries.)
P1: what is the value of S band
M: No idea sir.
P1: which is higher C or S.
M: C comes next to S.
P1: in order of increasing or decreasing
M: blah...
P1: Does the GOI allow people to use C band
M: no.(a stupid guess)
P1: what do you do in this settop box.
M: blah..
P1: do the people of bangalore have cash with them
M: Yes sir.
(then, it got explained, it was nt cash but CAS )
M: no sir.
P1: you said yes.
M: (totally sucked, was starring at him as what else is left. this part was enough to take IIMB out from my list. )
P1: passes on
P2: what movies you watch
M: art movies like earth, ...
P2: how do you classify
M: it doesnt have commercial items as 5 songs in a movie.
P2: you say movie without a song is a commercial movie.
M: art movies dont move towards a climax
P2: but movie earth has a beautiful climax.
M: (really was clueless, as everything i put bounced back at me. was starring at him plainly for sometime). you can take it futher from
there. Nt like commercial movies. Hero comes, falls in love, beats the villain and they marry, live happily forever.
P2: what and all books you read
M: The Enchantress of Florence, The inheritance of Loss( they were clueless.). Mainly, award winning books
P2: read The God Of Small Things? who is the author
M: Arundathi Roy
P2: any prizes
M: won 1997 booker prize sir.
P2: who n all can win booker prize
M: member countries of common-wealth.
P2: any other literary awards
M: pulitzer for american people
P2: any books that have won this prize
M: Jhumpa lahiri's The Namesake.
OK. we have done with our interview. You can go.

Final results:
Converted - A,C
Waitlisted - I(21), K(100)
Rejected - B,L,XLRI

A mail conversation with Revathy

Asha akka,
Belatedly, I came to know you have played in Ranga Shankara, Bangalore. It is elating me to find at last you have stepped in Theatre also. I want to see your performance in live, if possible at the future.
Are you going to do anymore plays here in RangaShankara,Bangalore?. If you do, pass me any useful information if you can.

Might be you have heard it a lot of times. Your performance in MounaRagam is enviable.

Take care akka,
Saravana

Reply

Forward

Revathy Menon to me

show details 2/14/08

Reply

Thank you Saravana.

You can log into www.rangashankara.org and you will see the schedule.

My play might be there in March

Regards,

Revathy

Mail to revathy@revathy.com
-------------------revathy------------------
"People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the huge waves of the seas, at the long course of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and yet they pass by themselves without wondering."

---

Reply

Forward

Saravana kumar to revathy

show details 9/2/08

Reply

It was a dream that hit to be true when I saw you there in Ranga shankara on August 15th. You were something that I felt to be my friend who keeps servicing me through your movies. When I was watching mouna Raagam, when you kept drenching in rain in a song 'Oh Megam Vanthatho,,,vaa vellottam pogalaam' I thought if this girl is enjoying so much in this pump flashed rain, how much pieces of happiness she could really be hiding inside her. Does she sit on her balcony and feast the coconut leaves waiving its numerous fingers, does she really hide the mug when her mother's eyes were full of sikkaikai, is she really intractable child as she appears in
movies or she dons the role of devar magan revathy in home too. When she jumps up and down infront of a camera like a small kid, where she does hide her sorrow? Does she really blend with multi people so easily as she appears in the movies. But this thought of mine took a slap when I saw you there in ranga shankara to be calm, poised, attentive to the questions(though I couldnt in fact ear those questions. Your presence in there shadowed all the other things). On that day, I saw you to have same blood and skin as me, hair unoiled, hand-nails a bit too lenghty making me guess does revathy who comes as a tender, loving village woman and keeps wiping her fore head sweat with saree-edge in cinema is a bit cosmopolitic having her food with spoon, toe-nails nail polished in light brown.etc.. Again and again, my mind wanted to rehash how you entered the stage, kept your bag at a corner, took out a wrinkled paper and began to act out the script. An attempt to inscript this everlasting in my mind. It made me so jealous of you at the moment when you soiled so much into the character that tears start trickling your cheeks when you self-realise you wanted to kill your homosexual son. How do you do that Akka?. So many questions in my mind!! Does she really go out indulging in sight-seeing and shopping or she simply closes her doors and windows, listen to music or she sits on her balcony with no strict time bounds and loses herself in passing dogs, grazing cows, dancing creepers, rain's beauty etc.etc. Where do you take your energy from? Music, books, art movies, helping out poor kids, It is going a bit shallow
and I am taking off. Though I couldnt find the same hurry-purry hullabaloo Revathy as seen in movies, You were there so mature,
pondering over things more deeply, more solemn in things related to acting. Hats off Akka. Thank you akka for your
services.

Reply

Forward

Revathy Menon to me

show details 12/26/08

Reply

Dear Saravana,

I know it is a very delayed reply but I enjoyed reading you mail. It is really very nice of you to say such beautiful things.

Take care.

Regards,

Revathy

Taken from Durai's life.

As it went first,
It had been 2 years since Durai joined in a primary school as a secondary grade teacher which means that his eligibility for teaching was limited upto the fifth standard. That couldnt be done as easily as said, think of the today's kids and their sincerity. Mummies having powdered their kids dark faces to look as if its white pot with two holes, to quench their thirst for a girl, let the boy grew long curly hair and tied it with a piece of her red coloured saree embroided with lotuses& elephants watering those lotuses, to ward off the evils casted on her son's beauty, three black dots, one on the forehead, two on either of the cheeks, did make the face at last into a colourfully, yet with pattern, an embellished pot. This was for the boy, girls couldnt be spared after all. Beauty was to define a girl rather than a boy. Jasmine threads with green leaves intermittently tied, either it could be from their home made back door gardens or in return for the generous money kept on the vibhudi plate, poojari might have taken a flower thread from the Goddess and given it to her along with the jaggery water. Again the girls ears were stretched down by not so brightly and sparsely coated 2 rupees thodus with small umbrella shaped dome hanging down, plus a bronze bangle tightly fitted in between two plastic bangles, one rupee ring that came free with the thodu easily known by their similar stone patters, necklace tightening their necks and making the neck area sweat heavily so that the ponds powder puffed in that area became too black that made the covering coated jewel to shine in its excellence. Girls had to constantly keep rotating their necklaces on either sides to temporarily keep the burning sensation at its bay, yet not willing to take it off their necks, some even privileged to have the tiny dollars in their small mouths and slanting on the pillars, made a distorted smile and posed as some cinema actresses to their virtual audience(after making sure there were no passers-by). a small handkerchief was tied with a steel pin to either wipe off their mouths after having their lunch or to suck their mucus into that and keep it get dried till their mommies clean it with detergents or to hide the stitches made in the uniforms near their breasts. Not many happened to be poor like this. Some even came with shirts with puffs at their shoulder joints and the hand pieces with star shaped hole patterns, differently and thickly colored round patterns, all added to the beauty of the shirt and more in a way showed the flesh's paleness or plainness with its solid color. This being the rich girl's pattern whose mommies daily chores were to decorate these dollies, put them in school, went on with afternoon siesta, picked few talks with her near compound mala or komalas, plucked some flowers from the garden, did the poojas, took the kids back from school and inspected their homeworks, much to their annoyance. The deprived for whom the mid-day meals given with one half baked egg and inferior quality rice served on tim plate by the school ayahs or more spreaded class rooms was a better bet than to sit in their packed match-box houses, in fact a single room segmented to a house. With a small cupboard that carried all their belongings, the only thing in the room with no access to the outsiders, that contained their sole property. But what could be there inside that, for they were clueless about their next day's food needs. Might be, their ancestral things, not at all good enough to be taken by others, battered momentos, family dollars made of cheap metal but intactly passed from generation to generation much to the curse of newly arriving brides in the family, hand drawn black and white photos with its nostalgic artistic excellence, broken glass bangles kept locked in wooden boxes to remind them of their carefree days, sarees that saw its outside world only on landmark events as the close relatives marriages where they were needed to occupy the centre statge, the occassions where they would get atleast a single chance to pose for the photos. But it was simple from the men's side. With a white dhoti and towel kept wrapped in a newspaper as it came clean from the snow white cleaners laundry shop but then it couldnt escape from the dust solely thanks to the hide and seek game played by the kids in the house, in particular the small one, chinnu who knew how to fit his torso with much ease into the bottom shelf, barbie doll with its plastered leg broken but then abled to stand with a thin neem stick tied to its knee with a thin thread,


A rehashed one,
Since the past two years, Durai had been going to this primary school. Being closer tho home and most of the school students acquainted to him one way or the other way, he didn't have any problems in reporting there. Usually he went to the school pedalling his Hercules cycle, at times he privileged himself to use a bike when his father Muthu was not at home. No regrets in using the cycle but when school fellows were destined to cross him, they were needed either to get down from the cycle and roll it over to the school or to take an alternate route that was anyway going to be farther, to reach the school without overtaking his sir. But it was not this tough as it seemed to be, atleast for the pranksters. With their faces turned away from the sir as if they were getting to see their village's beauty newly or pedalling heavily as if they were not in the habit of reaching the school unpunctual, they made it look like they didn't notice their Sir. As simple as that. But they couldnt hide their uniforms or torsos. Our sir Durai didn't miss to notice these 'break the ridiculous customs' kind of boys but then he didnt keep these pranks to remain in his mind for too long. At times, he even went back to home at noon time, took his lunch, did some small chores, much to the annoyance of his farm workers and disturbing their gossip session that happens usually after their lunch, chasing them all towards the fields to work. But the common feeling among the workers was that Durai was much better than his father muthu. Labours were able to restrain from coming to the farm on festivals, demand festival bonuses, these kind of leisure thoughts couldn't be even spoken out in the father's regime. The time, when the teacher was not in the school, the school comes under the emergency rule of cook master. To stop the buddies to jump into any duels, the cook master kept a half burnt bamboo stick closer to her always so that she didnt have to rise from her place unnecessarily. Again if she wanted to go home, she kept a senior school boy who was closer to her and so, more distanced from his mates, thanks to his crooked habit of putting the prankster names i.e. guys who piss on the school wall, guys who stood on the table and were threating the whole class with their steel scales, guys who picked the hibiscus flower from the school garden not to give it to the class girls but to operate that with their nails and collect the pollen grains from its chest, guys who sprinkled ink on other's back, those who empty the school water tank.etc.etc... Taking breaks in between was a regular thing but taking a day off from the school was a Herculean task. For Durai to take leave, either he was needed to give off to the school on that day or there needed to be a deputy teacher sent from the neighbouring school.
With all standards kept in one class and steadily decreasing school strength from lower to higher classes, he was the master of all on one side, he had to teach a lower standard about how to write alphabets, with a feeble mark laid by him, thekid had to keep drawing on that many times. On the other side, the fifth standard senior guys were busy mugging tables upto 16cross16 from the black slate. In between these things, he had to ensure that the senior students though not showing any marked interests in their respective subjects were not providing back-hand to the smaller ones. To top all these things, he had to keep adistance from the school cookmaster, thanks to her trivial queries about the kitchen stock or whether to keep boiled egg or egg poriyal or if at all she had to give that day's egg or it could be sold through the back door. At times he had to openly rebuke her for distributing his ongoing classes following which she wouldnt near him for some time but then when the necessity comes, she broke the ice and this became a customary thing that both of them accepted it to be a pattern in their relationship.
Again running a school in the village was not an easy thing. Keeping the school gate open would invite all the milk giving buffaloes into the garden and straining one's eyes further down, one could see the shepherd boy hiding behind the bushes and posing he wasnt conscious of these transgressions. Occasional interrupts made by student's mothers to give their afternoon lunch boxes, drunkard fathers in their shabby clothes with a thundu beedi hooked on his ears waiting to usurp the pocket monies from their kids, the carefree boys not attending the classes because their family was poor or the mere mentioning of the books, school, marks, tests, pass or fail made them run out of the town limits, in fact they had an inner instinct of privilegness when seeing these caged kids. Each one made a good story to get dropped out from the school. Falling from the neem tree and breaking his hands, with a big plaster of paris mold, one got admitted in a hospital for a time long enough to never go back to the school side. Another one made a big drama by grinding the aralikka seeds and then eating it like their sweet pongal just to be poked out from his mouth and the people had to get a new teacher recruited after the existing one got his job moved to an unnamed place.
Now coming back to Durai, the very next thing that would be much spoken about, once a boy lands in a job in those days was to find the right bride for him. In fact for Durai, calls though not straight meant, came from many bride's father to come and take their daugher's hands. It was seen as a very presumptuous thing from any bride's side. But a groom that too in government sector, its teacher's job with two days leave per week being a luxury was too tempting for them to restrain their offer. Proposal would be made as a teasing joke in th middle of conversations but his reaction's would be keenly noted by the bride's side to find if any minute inclination was shown by Durai towards their girl. Through the mediators properly taken care to put the bride's name as the most sought after girl in the nearby areas or cosy calls from the bride's side to visit their houses often fro reasons that serves no use. Keeping in mind what would be the response in his home, if he picked the bride, he didnt relent to these tantrums. Might be, the bride's attempts if pointed towards Durai's mother would have made atleast a partial way.
It became no longer possible to stay dumb to these proposals from Durai's side. It was Sakuntala who brought up this matter to the front. Being asked about how his brides needed to be, Durai conjured up a girl as beautiful as his own mother's. A charming face, with her texture neither too white nor too black but a brownish colour, hair not too lengthy to fall below her waist, more a kind of curly & bubbly hair flanking on her cheeks on either side when unwinded and unoiled, pearl black eyes that could swirl around to make thousand dialogues in silence. That's all. Rest, he couldnt put it how precisely he needed his bride to be and so, it was left to his mother's choicewho would do a research detailed enough to know about the girl's puberty time to if, the girls father had kept any keeps to do for his sexual urges. The latter check was not to see how pure the lineage was but to confirm that money didnt find its way out through the back door. Seeing the arrangements for marriage, Durai's grandma put her desires that it should be her daughter's daughter Kavitha, the one to join Durai in his life. After all, an elder's wish to make her descendants more binded and more purer of their own blood. Not stopping with that, she took Durai's and Kavitha's horoscopes to their family astrologer. It was destined to happen the other way. Thousand reasons quoted to her to say why the marriage shouldnt happen. It was said their star's qualities strongly opposed the other and one would grow eating up the weaker one like the moon's phases. One would be losing its charisma and power and the other taking up its place. So, this episode came to an end without much fuss, the grandma being a very religious didnt want to take any course that was against the God willed ones. About Durai, he was ambivalent from the very beginning about this. Kavitha, being known from his childhood was an easy girl to be dealt with and an obedient, right composition of qualities to fit into the so called family girl. But at times, her dumbness or unwillingness to pick a fight for the injustices meted out to her or to stand up for any cause made Durai at times to get more skeptical about their match. It was his gut feeling that he might be needed to spoon feed every needs of her in future that made him not to consider this issue any further. But then, neither of them had any restraints in their friendships just because the destiny didn't let them marry.
Now, it was Sakuntala's turn to find a match. Not willing to take brides from the same town, one fine day, taking a head bath, cladded in green silk saree hand woven with golden threads, assorted pattern of deers, fruits, flowers in its back-mundanai yet simple enough to fit for her age, jasmine symmetrically hanging on either side of her pinned hair plus the other things needed for the pooja. Incense sticks with its yet unopened brandmark label of cyclemark bathis, small round camphors wrapped in polythene packs to that it didnt vapourate into air, unripen bananas that got counted to an odd number on a superstitious thought basis, betel leaves so green to make your tongue burn when put alone discounting its complements, paakku and lime, nijaam paakku quantized in its small packets, lime not the oridinary plastering one but again a company made item with its added coloring agents to make it look like a more sweeter eatable, jasmine threads that marked two times her forearm's length. In fact, out of all these things, other than jasmine thread that would be garlanded to the God, the rest would go to the iyer's pocket. Then it was left to Iyer's wish to share it with other poojari's and give it as a prasatham or to take it to his home stealthly to make up for his meager temple wages. But Sakuntala wasnt minded about any of these things. All she wanted was to get the pooja done in a way so that the winds would start blowing favourably and the ruling stars would change their places to make Durai be a blessed man.
In the God's shrine, giving everything to the poojari, she stood there in a blissful state. A mean, greedy poojari once disturbed the arranged things in the plate to confirm most of his needs were met and vouchered for his satisfaction with a big and ugly smile. With these many offerings, the poojari didnt have to cut his mantras in the middle. Done with her prayers, leaving everything at the God's wish, she came back home putting every omens she came across on her return journey. Even the omens werent that clear like the cloud's patterns.,,,

An incomplete

It was not until Kunti’s mother started taking Kunti along with her to landlord’s house, Surya had come into her life. Usually her mother did go for farm work leaving kunti alone in her home with her lemon pickle and soaked rice for her lunch. But since Kunti had grown as a half-woman, it was good for her to know the so called outside world and that means extra wages that would do for her marriage. With the meagre wages, Kunti’s mother get, she couldn’t even think of future savings. Already her wages were tightly fitting in her daily needs. Things were not like this when she got married and came to this house.

It was going on as good as ant toeing in its line. It couldn’t be said she got to have a caring, cozy husband but he was no worse than a typical coolie man. Though he didn’t give her money to do for her home needs, she could take the money. In fact, there was a thrill in that. He bothered neither to ask her from where came the food and other things nor to see why the money kept missing from his pocket. He was there for food when she put the banana leaf on the floor and made a noise that signals his meal was ready. If she didn’t, then he didn’t bemoan. It was like he was there in his dreamy world ever. A never demanding kind as bending an yellow dry leaf on a river falling and moving with the river. Even their fights were one-sided. It was his unwillingness to fight that pushed her into abusing him. Words started pouring out as if they were waiting for their time. Threw tomatoes making sauces and marks all over on the wall and the floor, brinjals though not able to make a mark as big as tomatoes, even 1kg stones of iron that was kept to weigh their farm tobaccos, half burnt wood pieces taken red hot from her cow dung molded twin burners. Nothing made him react to her actions. mmmhmm. He never relented out from his sunnyaasi world. But she didn’t stop either from bullying him. It became more a kind of religious bhajan that couldnt be missed.

It was his disinterest in her that made her take a vow to revenge him by any means. Not by killing him or handicapping him, more severe than that giving out a mental blow to him. Breaking the conventions, stepping outside her boundaries, throwing away the rituals, she did that one day. It was a day that blossomed as normal as every other day with its sun unusually scorching and people covering their heads with their saree edges or turbans to ward off the heat, afternoon grazing goats forgetting that it was their only time given to fill in their stomach so as its lambs waiting for milk didn’t have to suck its empty breasts, dark buffaloes spreaded into muddy water with its four legs pointing upward and shaking its body this way and that way to ward off heat, lazily resting under neem shade trying out not so eatable neem leaves and spitting it out thanks to its bitterness.

Landlord who were so stingy not to let their labor to have a good time for lunch stopped going behind them to inspect their work and opted to take an afternoon nap. Making the barren land ready to sleep, weeding out just grown thorn and herbs, spreading out their towel length enough to cover their bare-behinds and keeping a small brick as a support to their head plus a stick almost half his height closer to his hands so as to reach it even in their sleepy mood if any snake or scorpion comes, closed his eyes and started rehashing his yesterday’s noon time spent with sarasamma. In the groundnut field, seeing their landlord sleeping, putting one girl to inspect any convulsions or movements in landlord’s body, all the others went onto play, old hags started chewing in the freshly unearthed groundnuts and buried seedless covers under the earth so that they wont be unnecessarily caught. Some even went further by taking sizeable groundnuts and hided it in their waists or tiffin-carriers or in the grass bundle that anyway was a more risky venture for the grandma if available in the kalam wouldn’t let them go without checking their body parts. Knowing this, some put the groundnuts in a cloth and made a pit of considerable size in the ground and put their dusty mundaasu piece into the soil and tied most of the groundnuts in that, put a black stone on top of the soil as a mark,. In other farm, the landlord knowing these bitches wouldn’t work much on sultry day, closed that day’s schedule and started taking counts of each one had how many drums of groundnuts and trying to dump as much possible groundnut into a single drum and his grandson sitting on thinnai to jot down every detail into the back of his grandpa’s accounts book. Normally it was his grandpa who preferred to do it himself not because of his own erudite but his preference not to turn to others for anything. But after that happening, when his IQ knowledge hit rock bottom and he had found to have given an excess money to a labor, he didnt take up this job any further. Making things further worse, when he went to the padaiaachi street to take the money back from that woman where he usually wouldn’t go considering his superiority, the woman spit right in front of him rather than giving back the money and he came back vowing never to rehire the woman as long as he would be there and even thought of informing all the other landlords as well about her bitchy behavior.