Q, U & V

It is said that the letters following the letter ‘Q’ in the word ‘Queue’ are not silent but waiting for their turn in the ‘queue’ silently. Queues were not that silent some years back. Today there are no queues as everything is booked online. The sad queues we witnessed in April & May this year were not the queues we ever wanted to see.

Growing up in a very middle-class environment, not everything easily came those days. In the area we lived water was a precious commodity. Drinking water was not supplied directly to houses. We had to fetch it from the common taps in the streets at untimely hours. You could see people lined up near the tap when water was supplied. Queue for drinking water.

There were other alternatives too. Just opposite my house was a well belonging to the city corporation. There was also a tank attached. Every day a municipal employee would come twice a day to pump the water from the well and store it in the tank. This was supplied with 3 taps underneath the tank. Apart from drinking, this was main source of water to hundreds, and you could see people again flocking to the taps. Queue for water again.

On the right side my house was a ration shop which used to sell rice, grains, sugar to the ration card holder. There was also kerosene sold associated to the ration card. This kerosene vendor lived on the left of my house. Every 2 days in a week, kerosene was sold. Again, it was a huge queue in front of my house. People used to place their old tins, mugs and what all to reserve their places in the queue from night.

Those 2 days in a week was chaos in front of my house with people fighting in the queue. Major part of the population there still had no access to cooking gas. Using electric stove meant unaffordable electricity bills.  Hence availability of kerosene was directly connected to your livelihood and your cooking. 

The verbal fights, in different languages was not a treat to the ears but improved your vocabulary. The modulation, tone and dramatic tones in these fights were straight from movies. 

Little further from the house were bus stops. Again, we could see big crowds queued up. Once the bus arrived, there was no trace of the queue. Many a times the last the person in the queue would be the first to board the bus. Last IN (queue) first IN(bus). 

We never saw queues for liquor in our times. Spirits were always high in supply. The lockdowns in the last 2 years have given us those rare sightings too.  

I could go on and list the different queues the previous generation spent the good part of their lives standing in. These Qs(Queue) were good part of us (U&V).

Many lost their lives in this year’s second wave waiting in queues to get beds, oxygen, and treatment. Some of them had to wait in queues for their last rites too. They deserved a lot better. 

19th to 19th

Exactly a month back, on that fateful Saturday, 19th Dec, India suffered a humiliation with the score reading 36 all out (9 in fact with Shami injured). I restarted my mobile to see if the score was true. Pink ball had us all red faced.

Today, watching Pant hit those winning runs is an unbelievable feeling. India has come a long way in terms of playing in Australia.

My first memories of watching cricket played in Australia was the Benson and Hedges World Series in 1985. The white ball, coloured clothing and getting up at 5 in the morning to watch the matches was a thrill.

India won that series famously, but never was a reckoning force in Australia in the years to come. India’s famed batting failed in the 1990-91 Test and One day series. ‘Adhe Raaga Adhe Haadu’ was the famous caption on the Kannada newspaper, which meant ‘same tune same song’ describing the repeated batting failures on that tour.

Sachin’s century at Perth, Kapil Dev’s 400thwicket, Ravi Shastri’s double hundred, a tied One-day match against West Indies were some consolations.

1999-2000 series was a disaster. Lele, a BCCI official had infamously predicted India to lose 3-0 in the test series and the team had obliged.

2003 was heart-warming. Dravid’s stunning batting display sealed us a historic win at Adelaide and with little luck we could have won at Sydney as well. Still a series win was a distant dream.

2008 offered a last chance to win a test series in Australia with the fabulous 5 around. Perth win was historic, but series win eluded. Winning the One-day series was a solace. 2011 was yet another disaster. 2014 was memorable only because of Virat Kohli.

India finally won the series in 2018, but today’s win is going be more memorable. Literally it was ‘India A’ team that battled and won. From 36 all out to 2-1 series win is no small achievement.

Melbourne was a sweet victory; Sydney’s draw was sweeter, and this Brisbane win will be the sweetest.

Was tired watching India snatch defeat over defeats from the jaws of victory and draws for decades.

This win is special. Congrats team India.

The legend, yes the legend!!!!

Alas, we have lost yet another legend and another of our childhood heroes. We Indians are basically cricket lovers, well most of us I mean. If someone from any other sport had to make his or her impact on us, it had to be someone like Maradona in their sport. He was a magician on run with a ball at his feet.

Indian cricket was almost at its best in 1986. Kapil Dev was our hero. He was athletic, aggressive, swift and had caught the attention of the nation like no other. It had to take a herculean effort for someone from any other sport to shift that attention away from cricket.

Maradona did exactly that during the 86 World Cup at Mexico. We knew of Mexico only from our textbooks. Any mention of that place henceforth is associated with Football and Maradona. By 1984 he was already a famed personality in football due to his record-breaking contract of $7.5m with Napoli Club. It did not matter to us. Our first glimpse of him was of course the 1986 World Cup.

I am not sure if any single player earlier had such an impact on a World Cup event. 1986 was his and completely his. Critics hate him for that goal, but even other than that he had his moments in that event and in plenty.

The divinity and the devil in his game came to the fore in that single match, the quarterfinals against England. If you hated him for the ‘Hand of God’ goal, in minutes he made you adore him with that magical goal going past half of the England players. The goal is considered the ‘Goal of the Century’.

He was a pale shadow of himself by 1990, but still managed to take his team to the finals. He almost lost his way by 1994.

The argument of who was better, Pele or Maradona will go on. For us it is Maradona because he was of our time and we watched him live.

S P Balasubramaniam - The everlasting melody

For us in the 80s, Radio and Akshavani were an integral part of our lives. Television was there, but TV time was primarily in the evenings. Radio also served like a clock, alarm. Radio ran continuously in normal middle-class homes. Some voices became immortal, even those reading the News.

My mom being a schoolteacher needed to know the time while cooking in the morning without seeing the clock. Radio was the solution. My father who would work in shifts had his own Radio schedule. So for years, we grew up listening to the radio. Radio did not go off even when we were studying or while doing homework.

Morning 8.30 to 9.30 was the time for Kannada movie songs in Vividh Bharathi. One good thing about Akashavani was that it mentioned all involved in a song which it played. The music director, the lyricist and the singers always got their credit unlike now. For years we kept on hearing the name of SP Balasubramaniam. That time we mostly heard 3 names – SPB, PB Srinivas and Dr Rajkumar. Out of the 12-13 songs in that slot, SP Balasubramaniam easily featured in 7 to 8 songs.

What we repeatedly see, listen, hear in our childhood remains forever. With the news of the demise of SPB, it feels like a very big part of our childhood is gone. So many of our childhood memories are attached with those songs and that divine voice of SPB.

He has sung almost 40,000 songs, but his impact on film music is beyond those numbers. How he managed so many songs and matched the voices of the actor on screen is a wonder.

For millions of us, who never saw him but only heard, enjoyed his voice, he is still there somewhere. Every time we hear his songs, he lives on. That is the greatness of art.

RIP sir.

The Kawarau Bridge Bungy Jump

Queensland and the adventure in air : The drive between Christchurch to Queenstown in New Zealand is an absolute breathtaking experience. The stunning visuals nature offers during the 500 Km journey makes one spell bound. We were blessed to visit New Zealand this year and were also fortunate to be a part of this drive. Thanks to Joseph Rayappa and Neeta Joseph for being the excellent hosts.

Queenstown is known for adventure sports and variety of activities. As you approach the city, you already get a sense of adventure in the air. Activities based at the outskirts invite the city entering visitors to take a shot at the thrill.  One such activity is the world famous Kawarau Bridge Bungy Jump activity.

Kawarau river and the bridge : The historical bridge constructed in 1880 to make access to the Central Otago Goldfields is now used for commercial purposes by AJ Hackett Bungy Company. Bungy Jumping started in 1988 commercially here and caught the imagination of the adventure lovers. It has been up and running ever since with people all over the world jumping happily and getting thrilled. You could read the history of Bungy jumping here.

As we drove towards the city, on the right side was this world famous Bungy jumping site. We could see people jumping from the bridge. The drizzling rain and the fading light made us to postpone the visit to the site the next day.

Sun rise and Son fall : The following day was a bright and sunny day as per New Zealand’s standards. I was padded with 2 jackets as per our standards. The bridge makes it for a spectacular view. Majestic and beautiful at the same time, it makes you appreciate the engineering skills our earlier generations had without sacrificing the looks.

The Kawarau river underneath is rigorous and intimidating. Cutting through the tall hills like a sharp knife, the sound made by the gushing currents of the river makes it a spectacular sight and hearing. As we stood in the side wings watching the people jump, I could see my son Pratheek getting excited and could sense what was coming. He had already hinted he would try jumping when we saw it from the distance the previous day. I was confident he would not venture it when seen from close. I was pretty sure the grip of fear and the uninviting scenery would keep his desire at bay.

Contrary to my belief he was already standing in the queue to enroll himself for the jump. He was just missing the stipulated weight required for the jump. We had to pad him with extra clothes and I had to remove my jackets in that cold for him to take the jump.     

After the initial jitters and taking more than enough time at the jumping plank, he had a successful jump. I was relieved it was over. I needed my jackets back. If I was not tensed or worried even for a second when I saw my young boy jumping from such height, it was for a reason. The professionalism, the safety measures and the assured environment the crew and staff provide there or in any activity in the entire country is unbelievable. Yes, these activities are expensive and it is worthwhile for good reasons.

I asked how it felt eagerly taking back my jacket. He said “it was just amazing”. Those words motivated me for a second and the next second I was back to my senses. It was also already time and I thanked God for creating that reason not to jump.

Back to the site : The next day we visited the beautiful Wanaka Lake. The serenity and calmness of the waters there was just opposite to the adrenal rush we experienced the previous evening at the Bridge. The drive back from the lake again was a visual treat. However, we had to pass through the Kawarau jumping site. This time we decided we would try the Zip line which looked less adventurous and lot less scary.

As we stood to enroll for the Zip line activity, my desire to try the jump gained momentum without a push. The momentum would have died down if friends and family had kept quite. They insisted and I was ready. 

I enrolled. Surprisingly, there was no sign of fear or regret. Not even while swiping the credit card. I gave the token to the crew, got my weight checked (just in case) and got the initial strings, ropes tied to my body. No fear, not as yet.Another person from India who looked at ease and with confidence oozing was getting tied up on the other side. It rubbed off to me. 

A couple of young girls who jumped ahead of me tried different styles of jumping. This left me wondering how I should jump. I zeroed in with the swimming pool kind of dive. I was ready. No fear. Music was being played and it was quite loud.

Moments before the jump : I was at the last stage before the jump. The legs were being  tied which is the most crucial stage. The other fellow Indian was ready on the other side. Music continued. His daughter was to jump after me on our side. I had another two before me. As my legs were being tightened up, the music started getting less audible. They had not reduced the volume, it was my heart which had started beating fast suddenly. The crew asked if I wanted to touch water during the fall. Why not ?

Now I was sitting in a position with my legs folded and knees in line with the face. Heart beat was racing with the music beats. Suddenly I heard the girl behind me shouting at her father. He was standing on the jumping plank. He did not want to jump. Confidence was the same on his face while not wanting to jump. I closed my eyes from that sight. The Girl was now yelling.

My turn came. I had to take three steps to the ‘final altar’ from where I could take the plunge. I imagined myself like a sacrificial sheep. The most difficult three steps I have ever taken in my life as of now. Music was playing but the river beneath made more noise. Inch by inch in to the plank and the ‘gravity’ of the situation struck. ‘What gravity is’ was going to occur to me in few seconds.  

One step and still my shoes was the only thing visible when looked down. Another step and it was that plank. The last step before the jump and it was only me and the rigorously flowing river down. Nothing in-between.

The countdown, the jump : The countdown begun. It was loud. My son had told me not to close my eyes as they would take videos. It would look like I was scared if I closed my eyes. Ten, Nine, Eight…. Can I say ‘no’ now? The crew was clear before the jump. They would not push me. If I did not want to jump, fine, but they would not push. It was my jump, my decision and nobody else’.

Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two and the moment came, One and jump. I closed my eyes and no, I could not jump. Just turned back and saw the crew and the other people waiting. Instantly turned back counted 3 myself, saw down and jumped with eyes wide open.

Glad I had my eyes open. It was scary for the first few split seconds and then it was an experience. Bliss. The finger tip touching the river water was the icing on the cake. I was also glad for that tinge of fear just before jump. Without that fear, without that rush of emotions the jump and the experience would not have been a fulfilling one that it ultimately was.    

My memories of River Arkavathy - Part 1

It is said that 'you can't be unhappy in the middle of a big, beautiful river'. As I dialed the numbers 80009 80009 for Rally for Rivers campaign, my thoughts wandered back to those happy 80s & 90s. 

I personally have fond memories of River Arkavathy during my childhood. The prospect of playing in the river was the biggest motivation for an otherwise tiring bus journey those days to my native village of Harobele near Kanakapura. 

I am sure my friends and cousins who were born brought up there have fonder memories than me.Our visit to the village used to be twice a year. Once in summer and another in October.

During October Arkavathy used to over flow and there was no chance of playing. But, the rain water and the overflow created number of small streams and water bodies for us to play. In summer, we used to rush to the river as we got down from the bus. My grandmother always wanted us to visit the church first after freshening up. But our devotion was with Arkavathy. 

‘Thore’, as it is called in villages used to be covered by trees and was not visible until we were a few yards from it. We could however hear the flowing sound and that added to the joy & mysticism. Hence River Arkavathy will forever remain in my memory as a small river with which we grew up and now sadly seeing it gradually disappearing too.

For a small introduction, Arkavathy originates from Nandi Hills. Passing through Ramanagar, Kanakapura finally joins River Cauvery near Mekedatu. Smaller Rivers Kumudavathi & Vrishabhavathi are (were) its tributaries. About 20% of City’s drinking water used to be from this river. 2 reservoirs,each at Hesaraghatta & Tippagondanahalli were built on it.

The history of Harobele & many adjacent small villages or ‘Doddies’ as they are called fondly remembers River Arkavathy has their life line for centuries. The main source of water for thousands of villages en-route its union with its elder sister ‘Cauvery’.

The water used to be clean and clear. There were specific places for children to play-swim, for ladies to wash clothes- utensils, for youngsters to catch fish-crabs. In fact until three decades back, Arkavathy used to be the main source of drinking water too.

Small holes to a size of a vessel used to be dug up on the bank of the river. The crystal clear water used to surface and would be collected after filtering with a piece of white cloth on the mouth of the pot or vessel. Though bore-wells and small wells provided drinking water, the sweetness of the river water was always preferred.

(to be continued....)

My memories of River Arkavathy - Part 2

Continued from Part 1

As kids, we identified ankle deep, knee deep & neck deep areas  for playing . We used to jump from an 8 feet rock. I still remember a small snake peeping out from a small hole from the same rock. My cousin told us not to worry and if we made loud noise it would never come out. Experience spoke, we made more than a loud noise and it never came out.

After the swim, drying ourselves and the clothes was more fun. There was a Mango tree in the adjacent farm. The branches outgrew the fence and mangoes were open for all. There was neither shortage of mangoes on the tree nor shortage of stones under it.

Thus the competition of bringing down those Mangoes began. The prize, the mangoes were shared by all. Salt & Khara was always brought along. Lifebuoy soap too was an integral part of swimming. The smell of Lifebuoy soap still brings back all those memories for me.

What followed during the next decade is really tragic. The ever rising climate and human greediness contributed in killing Arkavathy slowly. The growing Bangalore population contaminated the tributary rivers joining Arkavathy. The unplanned growing constructions obstructed it’s free flow.

The rising irrigational activities and massive plantation of Eucalyptus sapped not only the ground water but also consumed the small streams which fed Arkavathy. The constructions on lake beds almost stopped all shallow water resources leaving the Arkavathy gasping for life.  

With houses getting water through pipes, Arkavathy was no more the life line. With Cable TV coming to the villages, water streams were not the favorite pass time anymore. Nobody cared to give a thought about the dying water bodies nor did anybody make an effort to revive them. There was more unclean water flowing.

My last memories of playing in Arkavathy water now goes back to 1997. 30- 40 of us plunged in to the waters after a family function. Another instance in 1999, where our entire cricket team played in the water for hours after a cricket match on a very hot day. No such luck in the later years.

Water flows, but not the water of those years. Arkavarthy is not the same it used to be. History says great civilisations prospered on the river banks, so did our childhood memories. Just hope to see all the rivers get back to their past best including our own Arkavarthy. The city of Bangalore does owe a lot to the River of Arkavarthy and its revival, for it has quenched it's thirst for decades.