Indian news papers have publicized the dwelling house that Mr. Mukesh Ambani is building in Mumbai. When completed it will be the most expensive house in the world. Mr. Ambani is one of the top five richest men in the world and very successful businessman and industrialist. The house is meant for his small family of four or [is it five?]. We Indians have a tradition for ostentatious splurging and Mr. Ambani is no exception [he may not think so]. Going by the prevailing parameters Mr. Mukesh Ambani is a very big success.
I came to know Mr. Chinnappa when he was a teenager, 30 years ago. Then he was trying to get through his school final. He lived with his sister and she fed and clothed him. His own father was too poor to look after this boy. The sister’s family had just enough to manage and one additional mouth to feed was gracefully accepted.
Chinnappa got a small job as an operator in a cinema hall and also started working for me part time, to supplement his income. His duties then and now involve cleaning up my clinic and house, doing odd jobs, shopping and paying my bills. When the cinema hall became a multiplex he lost that job. He had become quite popular amongst my friends and began visiting a friend and patient of mine who has become demented, twice a week so that his [patients] wife could get a few hours of relief. He goes every other day to another elderly couple’s house to help them with their shopping and gardening. He thus makes more or less the same kind of money that he used to make when he was a screen operator. More than the money part of it, he has become extremely useful to all of us. Not very intelligent, but very honest, punctual and trust worthy, Mr. Chinnappa has not once complained about life and his lot.
I am not comparing but success is relative and doesn’t necessarily mean financial. There are many kinds of successes and my friend Chinnappa’ s is one such.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Crime by women against women
There is enough evidence to show that delivering the fetus by C-section [involves surgically opening the abdomen and uterus and taking the live fetus out] carries increased risk to the mother and the child when compared to normal vaginal delivery. It is also known that higher the economic status of the woman the higher is her chances of getting a C-section done. This is also true in urban set up rather than in a rural set up. The percentages vary but in urban India it is 42% and above [Madras study]
There are definite indications for this procedure. Some of them are small pelvis, abnormal fetal position, delayed labour, fetal distress, maternal distress, wrongly placed placenta etc. These constitute around 2 to 5% of the pregnancies and the procedure is life saving in these. But what about the rest? If it is medically unnecessary why is it being done?
Here are some sordid facts
Surgical delivery in contrast to normal vaginal delivery means use of operating theatre, anesthesia, and increased duration of hospital stay. All this mean more money to all the parties concerned.
The obstetrician can deliver the baby at his or her convenience instead of waiting for the natural child birth to occur which may happen at an inconvenient time [to the doctor]
It is easy to convince the mother to agree for the caesarian section.
One can thus come to the inevitable conclusion that these deliveries are done because of greed and convenience and not for valid reasons in a high percentage of cases.
Majority of obstetricians are women
There are definite indications for this procedure. Some of them are small pelvis, abnormal fetal position, delayed labour, fetal distress, maternal distress, wrongly placed placenta etc. These constitute around 2 to 5% of the pregnancies and the procedure is life saving in these. But what about the rest? If it is medically unnecessary why is it being done?
Here are some sordid facts
Surgical delivery in contrast to normal vaginal delivery means use of operating theatre, anesthesia, and increased duration of hospital stay. All this mean more money to all the parties concerned.
The obstetrician can deliver the baby at his or her convenience instead of waiting for the natural child birth to occur which may happen at an inconvenient time [to the doctor]
It is easy to convince the mother to agree for the caesarian section.
One can thus come to the inevitable conclusion that these deliveries are done because of greed and convenience and not for valid reasons in a high percentage of cases.
Majority of obstetricians are women
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Good, bad and the ugly
The dramatic entry of the twenty twenty cricket into the Indian cricket scene and the apparent success made me write this piece.
Many large cities of the country boast well built spacious stadia exclusively meant for playing cricket. The spectator capacity varies from 35000 to 100,000! Except for a few days in a year most of these facilities remain unutilized or underutilized. With the introduction of 20/20 cricket, most of these stadia have come alive with spectators jamming the stands. Imagine over 50 matches held over a three months time! It is a win win situation for the players, the corporate backers and the paying cricket crazy public. These matches have thrown open the doors of riches to many players who have had no hope of making it to the national squad and to many ex players who are past their prime and many players from other countries who for one reason or the other fine themselves free to take part in these matches, Needless to say that money plays a very important role in motivating these players to play in these matches, hereafter called as Indian premier league! India’s darling, M.S.Dhoni reportedly was bought by a corporate house for 6000,000 rupees! For those who want to know what it is in dollars, the going rate is 40 Rs per dollar. The glitz and glamour is provided by film stars and business tycoons who have made use of this opportunity to become more visible and sell their wares.
Now let me come to the bad part of the show
Test cricket as we know now, played over five days with bowlers and batsmen trying to excel in the traditional manner of play, seem to be on its way out. The days of the square cut, the drive are over. The spectacle of a fast bowler running up to bowl with three slips and a gully waiting for the edged catch, may not be available for the next gen of cricket lovers. In 20/20 there is no place for the slip, he is needed to guard the boundary to catch the lofted pull or punch. The days of Tedulkars, Dravids and Gangulys will give way to others who will master the art of innovating new array of strokes and the batsmen will rule the game. Money bags and not the discerning cricket lover will dictate how this game is going to be played and who plays it. Genuine lovers of the game will find it tough to understand the new and changed rules of how the game is played. This shorter version which is over in 120 minutes with guaranteed result and short lived excitement is prime time viewing and going by the ratings, all other channels have taken a beating. Why watch the important news channel when the 20/20 match is on?
The ugly part
The spectacle of batsman trying to scoop the ball over the wicket keeper’s head and getting applauded in the bargain! The sight of a batsman rising on his toes and coming down on a ball like hitting a golf ball with a pitching wedge! Such an ugly sight but effective stroke in getting runs! The sight of the ball disappearing over the square leg boundary from a ball pitched ouside the off stump! Blasphemy. Then there is less than acceptable sight of men and women behaving like demented dervishes, in the stands and of players spitting allover in the playing area in the full glare of the TV cameras. But then, these are changing times and who will listen to the lamentation of an old fool like me!
Many large cities of the country boast well built spacious stadia exclusively meant for playing cricket. The spectator capacity varies from 35000 to 100,000! Except for a few days in a year most of these facilities remain unutilized or underutilized. With the introduction of 20/20 cricket, most of these stadia have come alive with spectators jamming the stands. Imagine over 50 matches held over a three months time! It is a win win situation for the players, the corporate backers and the paying cricket crazy public. These matches have thrown open the doors of riches to many players who have had no hope of making it to the national squad and to many ex players who are past their prime and many players from other countries who for one reason or the other fine themselves free to take part in these matches, Needless to say that money plays a very important role in motivating these players to play in these matches, hereafter called as Indian premier league! India’s darling, M.S.Dhoni reportedly was bought by a corporate house for 6000,000 rupees! For those who want to know what it is in dollars, the going rate is 40 Rs per dollar. The glitz and glamour is provided by film stars and business tycoons who have made use of this opportunity to become more visible and sell their wares.
Now let me come to the bad part of the show
Test cricket as we know now, played over five days with bowlers and batsmen trying to excel in the traditional manner of play, seem to be on its way out. The days of the square cut, the drive are over. The spectacle of a fast bowler running up to bowl with three slips and a gully waiting for the edged catch, may not be available for the next gen of cricket lovers. In 20/20 there is no place for the slip, he is needed to guard the boundary to catch the lofted pull or punch. The days of Tedulkars, Dravids and Gangulys will give way to others who will master the art of innovating new array of strokes and the batsmen will rule the game. Money bags and not the discerning cricket lover will dictate how this game is going to be played and who plays it. Genuine lovers of the game will find it tough to understand the new and changed rules of how the game is played. This shorter version which is over in 120 minutes with guaranteed result and short lived excitement is prime time viewing and going by the ratings, all other channels have taken a beating. Why watch the important news channel when the 20/20 match is on?
The ugly part
The spectacle of batsman trying to scoop the ball over the wicket keeper’s head and getting applauded in the bargain! The sight of a batsman rising on his toes and coming down on a ball like hitting a golf ball with a pitching wedge! Such an ugly sight but effective stroke in getting runs! The sight of the ball disappearing over the square leg boundary from a ball pitched ouside the off stump! Blasphemy. Then there is less than acceptable sight of men and women behaving like demented dervishes, in the stands and of players spitting allover in the playing area in the full glare of the TV cameras. But then, these are changing times and who will listen to the lamentation of an old fool like me!
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Milky Way
I have known Fatima since her school days. Never a bright one, she struggled through school and it was no surprise to me that she couldn’t finish school. I felt she was very relieved when the marriage proposal came, not because of the forthcoming bliss of married life but at the prospect of relief from the tedium of school. I was fond of her because of her sunny nature and whenever she came, I was assured of a laugh one way or the other. Either she laughed at me or I laughed at her. She went away to distant Coimbatore and I saw less of her then on. But each year she returned to her father’s house either to a deliver a baby or to spend the school holidays. Her husband, I saw little of but the father who is also my friend a great deal, during the days when she and her children were here with him.
Not quick on the uptake [she], I used to have a hard time explaining why and what of her illness whenever she fell ill in the years before her marriage. But she was not a difficult patient and she followed instructions to the letter whether she understood the advice or not. Inevitably, during her time spent in Bangalore, she would see me, now more for her children’s sake that for herself. As to her own health she cared a damn and was becoming fatter by the month. That seemed bother no one except me. Whenever I pointed this out to her, she would retort ‘it is not healthy to be like you, thin and skinny [those days, twenty years ago, I was much thinner than I am now]!’ I had no answer to this because this misconception of health that being fat is healthy was also shared by her father and her husband and against this trio I was helpless.
Let me get back to the incident I was trying to recall. It was a worried looking Fatima Begum [Now she is respectfully married and a mother to add] who came with her two year old toddler. He looked fine to me as the boy wasted no time in attacking the strewn odds and ends that usually can be found on my table which are a child’s delight. The nakko, nakko [no, no] cries of the mother went unheeded as the boy proceeded to throw these on to the floor. Hearing the commotion, the grandpa, my friend, rushed inside only to see the grandson at his usual best [I forget his name now]. The boy became quiet as he had my knee hammer with him and he was giving it a close look.
The mother told me the reason why she was here to see me. ‘Look doctor, my son is bringing milk out of his ear since three days. This is despite my stopping milk for the last three days’ I was a bit taken aback. Without asking her any further questions, I tried having a good look at the ear. Like mother like son. I couldn’t believe a child of that age being so cooperative. Embodiment of docility. The only interest he showed was in trying to inspect my autoscope. The ear was full of whitish pus which my friend, his mother thought was milk. I was curious to know how a reasonably educated girl could believe that the milk given orally can find its way to the ear. I made enquiries and true to form, Dr Seshachalam, her Coimbatore doctor, by the way of explanation had told her that. In a way he is a better doctor than I. Dr Seshachalam did not waste time trying to explain the intricacies of chronic ear infection to a person like Fatima. She needed a simple, easy to understand explanation and he had given her one. This was not the first time he had done one better on me and I have accepted defeat quite gracefully, as his treatment[unlike his explanations] for any given ailment was always correct.
Now the difficult question, what should I do? If I agree with Doc Seshachalam’s advice, this simple woman will starve the boy each time he has an ear discharge. I asked her, ‘did Dr Seshachalam ever ask you to stop giving him milk?’ She said no. ‘He did not say that, he said only little goes to the ear and the rest goes to the stomach, it is only I who took this precaution’. I saw a silver lining and caught on to it. Told her to restart milk feeds and despite the knowledge that she will not believe me, spent some time explaining why and how of ear infection.
Out of respect and for old time’s sake, she listened to me patiently, took the prescription and snatched the knee hammer from the wailing child’s reluctant grip, placed it back on the table, thanked me and went away.
I was sure she would return again to provide me with some other form of entertainment.
Not quick on the uptake [she], I used to have a hard time explaining why and what of her illness whenever she fell ill in the years before her marriage. But she was not a difficult patient and she followed instructions to the letter whether she understood the advice or not. Inevitably, during her time spent in Bangalore, she would see me, now more for her children’s sake that for herself. As to her own health she cared a damn and was becoming fatter by the month. That seemed bother no one except me. Whenever I pointed this out to her, she would retort ‘it is not healthy to be like you, thin and skinny [those days, twenty years ago, I was much thinner than I am now]!’ I had no answer to this because this misconception of health that being fat is healthy was also shared by her father and her husband and against this trio I was helpless.
Let me get back to the incident I was trying to recall. It was a worried looking Fatima Begum [Now she is respectfully married and a mother to add] who came with her two year old toddler. He looked fine to me as the boy wasted no time in attacking the strewn odds and ends that usually can be found on my table which are a child’s delight. The nakko, nakko [no, no] cries of the mother went unheeded as the boy proceeded to throw these on to the floor. Hearing the commotion, the grandpa, my friend, rushed inside only to see the grandson at his usual best [I forget his name now]. The boy became quiet as he had my knee hammer with him and he was giving it a close look.
The mother told me the reason why she was here to see me. ‘Look doctor, my son is bringing milk out of his ear since three days. This is despite my stopping milk for the last three days’ I was a bit taken aback. Without asking her any further questions, I tried having a good look at the ear. Like mother like son. I couldn’t believe a child of that age being so cooperative. Embodiment of docility. The only interest he showed was in trying to inspect my autoscope. The ear was full of whitish pus which my friend, his mother thought was milk. I was curious to know how a reasonably educated girl could believe that the milk given orally can find its way to the ear. I made enquiries and true to form, Dr Seshachalam, her Coimbatore doctor, by the way of explanation had told her that. In a way he is a better doctor than I. Dr Seshachalam did not waste time trying to explain the intricacies of chronic ear infection to a person like Fatima. She needed a simple, easy to understand explanation and he had given her one. This was not the first time he had done one better on me and I have accepted defeat quite gracefully, as his treatment[unlike his explanations] for any given ailment was always correct.
Now the difficult question, what should I do? If I agree with Doc Seshachalam’s advice, this simple woman will starve the boy each time he has an ear discharge. I asked her, ‘did Dr Seshachalam ever ask you to stop giving him milk?’ She said no. ‘He did not say that, he said only little goes to the ear and the rest goes to the stomach, it is only I who took this precaution’. I saw a silver lining and caught on to it. Told her to restart milk feeds and despite the knowledge that she will not believe me, spent some time explaining why and how of ear infection.
Out of respect and for old time’s sake, she listened to me patiently, took the prescription and snatched the knee hammer from the wailing child’s reluctant grip, placed it back on the table, thanked me and went away.
I was sure she would return again to provide me with some other form of entertainment.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Golfing in hell
Story is told of two persons who had committed equal number of sins on earth. When they died, going by their record, they both deserved to go to hell. But one was sent to heaven and the other was shown the way to hell. Naturally the hell bound fellow objected to this discrimination. He was told that the other man who was sent to heaven was a golfer and had already been through hell on earth every time he played golf!
But looking at my fellow golfers I often wonder how many of them really deserve to go to heaven. Take for example the conscious grave diggers. I am surprised at the furor created in the press some years ago when Shivsainiks [members of a political organization with linguistic and cultural bias] in their misplaced sense of patriotism dug up the Ferozshah Kotla cricket ground. This is located in the national capital of New Delhi where cricket matches are held. This kind of digging on a much larger scale goes on in hundreds of golf courses. To see pock marked fairways and pitted greens, thanks to unrepaired divots and pitch marks is nothing unusual. While the Shivsainiks were hauled to jail for doing what they thought was a patriotic act, golfers continue to labor digging up mini graves all over our golf courses.
Adding to this, there are gentlemen who believe that the fairway is the ideal place to throw away their empty cigarette packets and cigarette buts and the empty obnoxious sachets that once contained tobacco chew. I am forever surprised that despite having a caddy and enough storage space in their bags, these gentlemen [?] indulge in messing up our beautiful fairways.
Then there are slow torture specialists. These are those who come to the golf course, more for their leisurely constitutional rather than a game of golf. Surely, a leisurely walk in the sylvan surroundings is highly advisable and may even be therapeutic, but my objection is to their taking five hours to walk the 6000 yards when behind them are guys like me who want to do it in three hours!
One venerable group, all of them 70 plus and happily [for them] retired from active life, play regularly on our course. Even caddies hesitate to carry your bags when this foursome is ahead of you. To add to their slow play, they are won’t to get into heated arguments, during the course of which they quite often forget what the argument was all about. Playing behind them one day, I was a mute witness to a long and heated argument and met one of them walking back in a huff. I couldn’t help asking him what the argument was all about. He stopped and thought for a while but try as he did he couldn’t recollect the reason why. He suggested I ask the threesome ahead and satisfy my curiosity, but, he declared, he would not play with these characters ever again! True to character and his short memory, the inseparable four ball were in place the next appointed day as though nothing had happened on the previous occasion!
On another occasion an exasperated golfer went up to them asked them to speed up the game. He was ticked off true and proper. When he reached their age he was warned, he would probably take twice as much time and may not even be able to play the game. An irrelevant reply, but enough to silence the upstart. We at the time of writing don’t know how to handle this group. If you have any sure cure suggestions to make this foursome play faster with out unduly hurting them too much please let the writer know.
There are other golfers who think the golf course is the ideal place to have a picnic of sorts. Our club in its wisdom has provided kiosks at two places and this encourages these. There are foursomes who spend time here leisurely imbibing biscuits and beverages and discussing the weighty affairs of the world. One foursome has taken to sitting on the bench after finishing their repast and is galvanized into sudden activity as soon as they sight the following foursome leaving the putting green. On reaching the tee one is likely to see one of them teeing the ball with the club in one hand and a cup of steaming coffee in the other. No doubt the disposable cup will be thrown on the fairway causing further annoyance to the group following. As it happens at two places on the course and you can imagine the hold ups this causes on a busy week end. Instead of the suffered wait, most of us have also taken to having the not always welcome breaks.
Our club has recently set up number of toilets around the course. You may wonder why when we have a club house which has more number of toilets than rooms. But when you consider the number of golfers afflicted with weak bladders, who ever so frequently water the trees around the course and was a sight for the sore eyes, this additional provision of toilets is thus welcome. But has contributed to the delay.
Particularly offending are the golfer’s conversation at decibel levels loud enough to heard through out the course. Especially annoying are their celebratory shouts after sinking a put. While I appreciate their pleasure in sinking a long put or difficult put. I don’t believe it is a worthy enough achievement to deserve such high decibel woops. Besides I have on several occasions missed certain puts after getting jolted by these joyous exclamations on the adjacent green. Unfortunately let me remind these insensitive revelers, that golf rules don’t permit one to take the put again.
You may wonder why, despite all this irritation, I continue to torture my self every week end on the golf course. Well it is one way of reserving my heavenly berth.
This story I wrote many years ago which got published in journal devoted to golf.
On sparrows and urban life
My friend Dr SRJ in addition to being a good physician is a well known wild life photographer. His knowledge of flora and fauna is much deeper than mine. But I write on what I see around me and he doesn’t. He has commented [read his comments] on the disappearance of the sparrow from urban Bangalore. The health or otherwise of our delicate environment is often judged by the presence or absence of some forms of life. Sparrow is one such example. Sparrow and Crow are two birds who lived with humans in perfect harmony. Why then the crow has multiplied and sparrow has almost disappeared?
Here are some interesting phenomena which are linked to our changing lifestyle.
Years ago this city had many beautiful tile roofed homes [some relics can still be found in some old localities]. City also had hedges instead of cemented compounds. These were ideal nesting sites and it was very common to see hundreds of sparrows living in close proximity, unafraid and friendly. They survived mostly on grains. People those days carried grains in hessian [jute] bags and spillage was common. They also had this habit of spreading grains on mats on the verandahs to dry. Concrete has replaced the tiled roof and plastic the porous hessian.
In some pockets of the city, like Shivajinagar and Lakhmipuram I have seen sparrows still surviving!
Crow multiplied because it thrives on garbage which the fastidious sparrow cannot stomach!
But looking at my fellow golfers I often wonder how many of them really deserve to go to heaven. Take for example the conscious grave diggers. I am surprised at the furor created in the press some years ago when Shivsainiks [members of a political organization with linguistic and cultural bias] in their misplaced sense of patriotism dug up the Ferozshah Kotla cricket ground. This is located in the national capital of New Delhi where cricket matches are held. This kind of digging on a much larger scale goes on in hundreds of golf courses. To see pock marked fairways and pitted greens, thanks to unrepaired divots and pitch marks is nothing unusual. While the Shivsainiks were hauled to jail for doing what they thought was a patriotic act, golfers continue to labor digging up mini graves all over our golf courses.
Adding to this, there are gentlemen who believe that the fairway is the ideal place to throw away their empty cigarette packets and cigarette buts and the empty obnoxious sachets that once contained tobacco chew. I am forever surprised that despite having a caddy and enough storage space in their bags, these gentlemen [?] indulge in messing up our beautiful fairways.
Then there are slow torture specialists. These are those who come to the golf course, more for their leisurely constitutional rather than a game of golf. Surely, a leisurely walk in the sylvan surroundings is highly advisable and may even be therapeutic, but my objection is to their taking five hours to walk the 6000 yards when behind them are guys like me who want to do it in three hours!
One venerable group, all of them 70 plus and happily [for them] retired from active life, play regularly on our course. Even caddies hesitate to carry your bags when this foursome is ahead of you. To add to their slow play, they are won’t to get into heated arguments, during the course of which they quite often forget what the argument was all about. Playing behind them one day, I was a mute witness to a long and heated argument and met one of them walking back in a huff. I couldn’t help asking him what the argument was all about. He stopped and thought for a while but try as he did he couldn’t recollect the reason why. He suggested I ask the threesome ahead and satisfy my curiosity, but, he declared, he would not play with these characters ever again! True to character and his short memory, the inseparable four ball were in place the next appointed day as though nothing had happened on the previous occasion!
On another occasion an exasperated golfer went up to them asked them to speed up the game. He was ticked off true and proper. When he reached their age he was warned, he would probably take twice as much time and may not even be able to play the game. An irrelevant reply, but enough to silence the upstart. We at the time of writing don’t know how to handle this group. If you have any sure cure suggestions to make this foursome play faster with out unduly hurting them too much please let the writer know.
There are other golfers who think the golf course is the ideal place to have a picnic of sorts. Our club in its wisdom has provided kiosks at two places and this encourages these. There are foursomes who spend time here leisurely imbibing biscuits and beverages and discussing the weighty affairs of the world. One foursome has taken to sitting on the bench after finishing their repast and is galvanized into sudden activity as soon as they sight the following foursome leaving the putting green. On reaching the tee one is likely to see one of them teeing the ball with the club in one hand and a cup of steaming coffee in the other. No doubt the disposable cup will be thrown on the fairway causing further annoyance to the group following. As it happens at two places on the course and you can imagine the hold ups this causes on a busy week end. Instead of the suffered wait, most of us have also taken to having the not always welcome breaks.
Our club has recently set up number of toilets around the course. You may wonder why when we have a club house which has more number of toilets than rooms. But when you consider the number of golfers afflicted with weak bladders, who ever so frequently water the trees around the course and was a sight for the sore eyes, this additional provision of toilets is thus welcome. But has contributed to the delay.
Particularly offending are the golfer’s conversation at decibel levels loud enough to heard through out the course. Especially annoying are their celebratory shouts after sinking a put. While I appreciate their pleasure in sinking a long put or difficult put. I don’t believe it is a worthy enough achievement to deserve such high decibel woops. Besides I have on several occasions missed certain puts after getting jolted by these joyous exclamations on the adjacent green. Unfortunately let me remind these insensitive revelers, that golf rules don’t permit one to take the put again.
You may wonder why, despite all this irritation, I continue to torture my self every week end on the golf course. Well it is one way of reserving my heavenly berth.
This story I wrote many years ago which got published in journal devoted to golf.
On sparrows and urban life
My friend Dr SRJ in addition to being a good physician is a well known wild life photographer. His knowledge of flora and fauna is much deeper than mine. But I write on what I see around me and he doesn’t. He has commented [read his comments] on the disappearance of the sparrow from urban Bangalore. The health or otherwise of our delicate environment is often judged by the presence or absence of some forms of life. Sparrow is one such example. Sparrow and Crow are two birds who lived with humans in perfect harmony. Why then the crow has multiplied and sparrow has almost disappeared?
Here are some interesting phenomena which are linked to our changing lifestyle.
Years ago this city had many beautiful tile roofed homes [some relics can still be found in some old localities]. City also had hedges instead of cemented compounds. These were ideal nesting sites and it was very common to see hundreds of sparrows living in close proximity, unafraid and friendly. They survived mostly on grains. People those days carried grains in hessian [jute] bags and spillage was common. They also had this habit of spreading grains on mats on the verandahs to dry. Concrete has replaced the tiled roof and plastic the porous hessian.
In some pockets of the city, like Shivajinagar and Lakhmipuram I have seen sparrows still surviving!
Crow multiplied because it thrives on garbage which the fastidious sparrow cannot stomach!
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Foreign medicine
Many years ago, there was a popular quack [qualified] in my neighborhood. He was known as German doctor. He came to be known by this name because his wife was German. How this made him a popular doctor, don’t ask me. He exploited all the beliefs of patients to his advantage. One belief that exists even to this day is that medication given by the injection form is better than given orally. Most doctors sooner or later will accept the patient’s belief and come to believe in it themselves!
This German doctor would ask the patient to choose between desi and foreign make. He would subtly suggest that the desi one is cheaper but of dubious value [those days with some justification] where as the foreign one is powerful but expensive. Needless to say the patients chose the powerful one. As I was very reluctant to inject when it was not warranted, I soon developed my own reputation as a no injection doctor! As education in matters related to medicine spread, patients of the type who knew the truth or who were afraid of the injections began drifting towards me. One of these was the German wife of this doctor. She came to me with severe menorrhagia [excessive bleeding during menstruation] that her husband could not stop with his powerful injections. I had to urgently hospitalize her and after stabilization get a hysterectomy [removal of uterus] done. She became my friend and patient and in the course of time her husband too became one and would send an occasional patient to me. Interestingly, I found him to quite knowledgeable despite the questionable methods he used to keep his patients happy.
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This German doctor would ask the patient to choose between desi and foreign make. He would subtly suggest that the desi one is cheaper but of dubious value [those days with some justification] where as the foreign one is powerful but expensive. Needless to say the patients chose the powerful one. As I was very reluctant to inject when it was not warranted, I soon developed my own reputation as a no injection doctor! As education in matters related to medicine spread, patients of the type who knew the truth or who were afraid of the injections began drifting towards me. One of these was the German wife of this doctor. She came to me with severe menorrhagia [excessive bleeding during menstruation] that her husband could not stop with his powerful injections. I had to urgently hospitalize her and after stabilization get a hysterectomy [removal of uterus] done. She became my friend and patient and in the course of time her husband too became one and would send an occasional patient to me. Interestingly, I found him to quite knowledgeable despite the questionable methods he used to keep his patients happy.
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Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Celebration of life
Baisaki, Ugadi, Vishu you call it by any name, is an important festival for Indians all over the country. This day is celebrated as the day of beginning of new life and the mother earth is thanked for her bounty. This day also heralds spring and a new and hopeful beginning. This is also the birthing season for most avian life and budding season for plant life. I see this all around and this fascinates me.
Sardar Kushvant Singh writes about a tree which he planted in his back yard growing big and huge with a canopy of leaves under which he relaxes and enjoys it beauty. I observe a young pepal tree undergoing the seasonal change. A few weeks ago it started sprouting new leaves of light lemon yellow colour. These came to acquire a kind of light brown color and now have turned into a flamboyant greenish yellow and soon will be glorious dark green. All this happens in a matter of few weeks. I watch with fascination the early morning sun reflecting these colours and the tree acquires a rare beauty. Indians have worshipped the peepal tree [Ashwath] [Ficus relegeosa] from ancient times and there is no village where this tree doesn’t occupy a central place in the scheme of things. The embankment built around it acts as a meeting place and social club for the villagers and the huge crown of leaves give the much needed shade in the scorching summer sun. The abundant fruits common to all ficus tree is heaven for birds. These trees live for centuries and the other famous ficus tree Ala [Banyan][Ficus Bengaleses] grows huge and broad and lives for centuries. There are two around Bangalore who are grand patriarchs and I feel, in their presence, a sense of revered awe. The one located in Swami Nithyanand’s ashram [Dhyanpeetam] of Mysore road beyond Bidadi is reputed to be more than 600 years old.
My favorite Ficus tree remains the common Goni mara or [ficus Mysorensis]. This too grows huge but not that huge as the peepal , has some arboreal roots [I have never seen one touching and implanted on the ground like you see with Banyan] and has closely placed branches and leaves so the tree is more compact than the others with hardly any space in between. It bears enormous quantities of fruits, initially coloured yellow and when ripe a kind of orange red. It is a sort of Mecca for birds during fruiting season. These are common trees planted on either side of roads and also grow in the wooded areas. Now if you are lucky to see this tree, it looks from a distance like a green crown [leaves] studded with orange and red [fruits]
From the balcony of my house I get a clear view of a Sapota [Chicku] tree growing in the backyard of my neighbor’s home. This tree bears fruit and the owner finds it difficult to pick the fruits in the upper branches, much to my delight. There is a family of squirrels that guard the fruits against birds who try and get at them. The bird that makes the most attempts and succeeds occasionally is the green barbet! It is great fun to watch the squirrel family trying to shoo the barbets away only to find them settling on another branch. The other bird that bothers the squirrel family is the parakeet. This noisy bird when it comes to feed sends the squirrels into a nervous tizzy. Parakeets are not fastidious feeders like the barbets. Their policy is eat one and destroy ten. Such extravagant, wasteful and noisy characters. Their performance reminds me of the needless and noisy extravaganza of a wedding feast!
The only visitor who cares a damn to what the squirrels think is the jungle crow. This magnificent bird is a fearless omnivore who believes in the dictum, ‘if there is anything edible I will eat it and enjoy doing so’. I once sat on a char and watched two jungle crows fighting over pieces of insipid papad which I kept throwing at them. It is a sight to see these big birds balancing on tiny branches and getting at the fruits with the squirrel family loudly protesting from a distance!
Copper pod in full bloom
Copper pod, rusty shield bearer [ Peltrophorum pterocarpum ] is a common avenue tree in full bloom now. I t is a large well leafed tree and bears tons of orange yellow flowers arranged in clusters. From a distance the tree appears aflame with orange interspersed with green. The flower has five thin wrinkled petals beautifully arranged in a circle around a central bunch of stamens [?]. With hundreds and thousands of these flowers the whole tree looks remarkably beautiful. Right now if you take a walk or drive on double road that connects 100ft road up to ESI hospital, Indiranagar, you will see on either side of the road a profusion of this tree.This stretch the road can be appropriately named as copper pod avenue! Should be done before they name it Hanumanthappa road!
Sardar Kushvant Singh writes about a tree which he planted in his back yard growing big and huge with a canopy of leaves under which he relaxes and enjoys it beauty. I observe a young pepal tree undergoing the seasonal change. A few weeks ago it started sprouting new leaves of light lemon yellow colour. These came to acquire a kind of light brown color and now have turned into a flamboyant greenish yellow and soon will be glorious dark green. All this happens in a matter of few weeks. I watch with fascination the early morning sun reflecting these colours and the tree acquires a rare beauty. Indians have worshipped the peepal tree [Ashwath] [Ficus relegeosa] from ancient times and there is no village where this tree doesn’t occupy a central place in the scheme of things. The embankment built around it acts as a meeting place and social club for the villagers and the huge crown of leaves give the much needed shade in the scorching summer sun. The abundant fruits common to all ficus tree is heaven for birds. These trees live for centuries and the other famous ficus tree Ala [Banyan][Ficus Bengaleses] grows huge and broad and lives for centuries. There are two around Bangalore who are grand patriarchs and I feel, in their presence, a sense of revered awe. The one located in Swami Nithyanand’s ashram [Dhyanpeetam] of Mysore road beyond Bidadi is reputed to be more than 600 years old.
My favorite Ficus tree remains the common Goni mara or [ficus Mysorensis]. This too grows huge but not that huge as the peepal , has some arboreal roots [I have never seen one touching and implanted on the ground like you see with Banyan] and has closely placed branches and leaves so the tree is more compact than the others with hardly any space in between. It bears enormous quantities of fruits, initially coloured yellow and when ripe a kind of orange red. It is a sort of Mecca for birds during fruiting season. These are common trees planted on either side of roads and also grow in the wooded areas. Now if you are lucky to see this tree, it looks from a distance like a green crown [leaves] studded with orange and red [fruits]
From the balcony of my house I get a clear view of a Sapota [Chicku] tree growing in the backyard of my neighbor’s home. This tree bears fruit and the owner finds it difficult to pick the fruits in the upper branches, much to my delight. There is a family of squirrels that guard the fruits against birds who try and get at them. The bird that makes the most attempts and succeeds occasionally is the green barbet! It is great fun to watch the squirrel family trying to shoo the barbets away only to find them settling on another branch. The other bird that bothers the squirrel family is the parakeet. This noisy bird when it comes to feed sends the squirrels into a nervous tizzy. Parakeets are not fastidious feeders like the barbets. Their policy is eat one and destroy ten. Such extravagant, wasteful and noisy characters. Their performance reminds me of the needless and noisy extravaganza of a wedding feast!
The only visitor who cares a damn to what the squirrels think is the jungle crow. This magnificent bird is a fearless omnivore who believes in the dictum, ‘if there is anything edible I will eat it and enjoy doing so’. I once sat on a char and watched two jungle crows fighting over pieces of insipid papad which I kept throwing at them. It is a sight to see these big birds balancing on tiny branches and getting at the fruits with the squirrel family loudly protesting from a distance!
Copper pod in full bloom
Copper pod, rusty shield bearer [ Peltrophorum pterocarpum ] is a common avenue tree in full bloom now. I t is a large well leafed tree and bears tons of orange yellow flowers arranged in clusters. From a distance the tree appears aflame with orange interspersed with green. The flower has five thin wrinkled petals beautifully arranged in a circle around a central bunch of stamens [?]. With hundreds and thousands of these flowers the whole tree looks remarkably beautiful. Right now if you take a walk or drive on double road that connects 100ft road up to ESI hospital, Indiranagar, you will see on either side of the road a profusion of this tree.This stretch the road can be appropriately named as copper pod avenue! Should be done before they name it Hanumanthappa road!
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