Chennai Bloggers for Social Action

It was a fascinating Sunday evening when I had a long conversation with Shashi and Dr. Ganesh over cups of black coffee on how we could utilize the inherent strength of the team - Writing or actually Blogging to promote social causes and highlight issues both good and bad.

The conversation was enlightening in many aspects:

1 - Social Action need not always be for a negative issue; there are a number of good and positive things happening around us; we can highlight them as well.

2 - Social action has two primary and distinct aspects:
a - Online activity wherein we write about issues and promote them using social networking tools.
b - Off-line (or) ground-zero activity - the actual task of visiting orphanages, slums, old-age homes etc, and doing constructive work.

3 - We as a network of bloggers can do a lot; one post by our revered doctor on marital / domestic abuse has been making the air-waves online. Similarly if we plan and write on one topic every month; there will be a theme for every month. Just imagine the impact of 100 plus bloggers writing on a topic and publishing it simultaneously, say on a given day and then promoting the post through Twitter and Facebook. We are sure to draw attention for any noble cause or good positive trait of Chennai that we choose to champion / highlight.


Building the core team:
We are looking to build a core team of partners (the Starbuck philosophy where everyone is a Partner). The team will have to identify issues that need to be popularised and highlighted and moderate / review the posts submitted by bloggers from all over the country.

We are looking for volunteers who can offer their time, knowledge and expertise. Meetings will be held on a regular basis and if the core-team partners can attend the meets it would be great!

The Future:
We shall be starting the Chennai Bloggers for Social Action - CBSA as a group within the Chennai Bloggers Club and everyone is welcome to help us in our initiatives. The CBSA will be a part of the larger Indiblogger for Social Causes / Action network as well. Our work as part of CBSA will be highlighted and used to set up and start similar projects in other cities in India. So team we are part of a hugely challenging and interesting pilot-project for change!


The Competition:
To start on a positive note; we announce a blogging competition; the topic is - Magical Melodies of December in Chennai - As the topic suggests it is about the music-scene in Chennai during December when sabhas run to packed houses with concerts. Write about your experiences and explain why you feel the event is special to Chennai. Word-limit - 450 to 600 words.

There are three prizes:
First prize - A voucher for Rs 1000.
Two runner-ups - Vouchers for Rs 500 each.
Deadlines - Contest closes on January 1, 2013.

End your post with the tag-line - "This post is part of CBSA's 'Magical Melodies of December in Chennai' blogathon!'


The Beginning:
These are exciting times ahead for us; with a whole new world of possibilities and challenges; let us have the self-belief in ourselves that we as bloggers can truly contribute to making an instrumental difference in society.

“Journeys Never End” - My entry for the Get Published Contest

The Idea
This tale has its origins in a moving tale that was narrated to me when I undertook a trip to Rameshwaram a few years back. I have retained the names of the characters as narrated to me by the story-teller. It is a love-story of a Tam-Brahm senior architect and a Bengali trainee architect.

What Makes This Story ‘Real’
I cannot verify or ascertain if the tale is 100 percent true; but I had this story narrated to me on a long train journey and I feel that anyone who has ever been in love will find something special in this story.

Extract:
It was 9:35 PM and my train to Rameshwaram was scheduled to leave Egmore station at 9:40 PM. The Tambaram-Chennai Beach local train reached Egmore just in time for me to run like Usain Bolt and get into the Rameshwaram Express.

I tried to catch my breath as I settled into my seat L-21. I looked at my fellow-passengers; a middle-aged couple eating their dinner, two nuns praying and a man in his thirties; with a copper urn in his hands.

Train to Rameshwaram and a copper urn - probably his parents' ashes I surmised. How wrong was I? I would learn what true love meant in the next fourteen hours of my journey to Rameshwaram - a story of love that overcame all odds!

A parting thought:
Does true love transcend boundaries of space and time? Can someone grieve the loss of a loved one - forever? Is not this life too precious to be just just grieving on and on; instead of moving on with one’s life and duties?

Endnote:
This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.

An Evening To Remember - Reliving a Royal Experience

This is in celebration of the lovely preview meet organised by Indiblogger and the ITC Grand Chola Luxury Hotel in Chennai on Saturday – October 27. Some of my fellow bloggers have written beautiful posts recounting their experience at the ITC Grand Chola:

Dr. Ganesh Puttu

Ganga Bharani

Karpagam

Now for my presentation:

It was a lovely Saturday morning,
I woke up with a smile,
Knowing it would be a special day,
For I was part of a lucky group,
Who would get to visit –
The ITC Grand Chola Luxury Hotel.

I took a train,
A long journey again,
To reach the destination,
A beautiful palace,
Straight out of the history books,
From an era of forgotten kings and queens,
Of grandeur and awe-inspiring statues.

A security check with a smile,
Efficient service is always beautiful,
Being welcomed like a prince,
Who has returned from a conquest.
I walked into the palace of my dreams.
With attendants in white-finery guiding me
To Rajendra Hall.

I walked in and met a lovely lady,
Who asked me to sign-in,
Voila I was already registered so no hassles I was in!
And there I met my dear friend and mentor – Dr. Ganesh.
A man with a delightfully wicked sense of humour.

Soon others walked in as well.
Some known faces some unknown.
Camera-man foodie Kalyan,
Gitanjali the bird-lover with her friend Jenny,
Karpagam who writes inspiring short-stories!
But I walked up to Renie first and thanked him,
For setting up some more seats for the event.
He truly deserves a round of applause!

Introductions and 60 seconds of fame.
As famous bloggers like –
Fashion-expert and biking queen - Bhushavalli,
Next J.K. Rowling - Ganga Bharani,
Social-activist, media-campaigner - Banu,
Deiva-darshanam guide - Padmapriya
Serial comedian – Chris Prasoon Robin
Talked about their blogs.
It was a pleasant experience to meet passionate bloggers,
Who blogged on diverse topics,
And interact with them on a Saturday afternoon!

Then we had Monsieur Philippe,
Speaking about the ITC Grand Chola,
And signing off with Nanri,
And when we cheered him he said – Romba nanri.
Merci Monsieur Philippe –
Keep up the good work.
More ITC staffers like Prakash spoke
And reiterated their goal,
Of making the ITC Grand Chola – India’s finest luxury hotel.
Of ice-breaking events and Gagnam style dancing and musical chairs
All rolled into one!

Then we broke for high-tea,
What a luxurious spread,
Sandwiches and vadas,
Pakodas and samosas,
Juices and coffee,
Mint-coolers and banana shakes,
Chocolate and fruits,
Nuts and cup-cakes,
Australian cookies and English brownies,
Ooh truly a feast fit for the kings!

We were divided into teams,
And assigned a guide each,
Our guide was a lovely lady,
Called Smriti – truly pretty who,
Patiently answered our umpteen questions.
Thanks a lot Smriti!

We began our exploration,
It was not unlike a time-travel experience,
We were magically transported to –
Both the past and the future,
As we examined chandeliers and 48 different
Varieties of marbles,
Sculpting inspired by the Brihadeeshwara Temple
Then the futuristic rooms,
With a scene straight out of ‘The Jetsons’
As an I-Pad could control practically every function,
From opening and closing doors,
To ordering food.
What a sophisticated room!


Our walk continued,
Of marble work and tiles,
Of chandeliers and pillar-less corridors.
Long-winding stairs that led to probably heaven.
Of spas that smelt of herbal oils and aromatic essences.
Of restaurants that served delights from Italy and the North West Frontier Province.
A lounge-bar where we sampled mock-tails,
A smoking-room where cigars were on display!
A gymnasium that would put the Olympics Federation to shame!
A lovely walk it was through the hallowed corridors of beauty and power!

The evening ended-
With announcements of prizes,
Won by fellow bloggers,
Everyone went home happy as everyone won something!
Truly a generous gesture by ITC Grand Chola and Indiblogger.

As the evening gave way to night,
It was time to bid goodbye and go home,
With beautiful memories,
The joy of meeting bloggers in person,
Making friends with people,
Whom you like immediately!
Life is indeed beautiful!


Thanks again to Indiblogger and the ITC Grand Chola for such a beautiful evening. We hope to come back more often and enjoy your hospitality!

All the best in your endeavours to become India’s finest luxury hotel. You have ticked all the right boxes, be it energy-efficient, courtesy or food and beverages, everything looks promising. Hope by the time you become fully operational perhaps the few people who had some minor complaints would be satisfied as well. – Cheers to a wonderful beginning!

Mission Melbourne - An Assignment for The Jackal

The instructions always came in a blue envelope. This time for a change it came in a yellow envelope and contained a photograph, an address, flight-tickets and a crisp message - “It is your time to visit Melbourne, NOW”.

There was a sudden tinge of joy and sorrow on knowing the location - Melbourne - where I found my one and only love and lost her as well. I wondered how Lisa would be now? 25 years is a long time.

Lisa and Me:
The Qantas flight departed right on time and I relaxed in the comfort of my Executive class seat. It was time to reminisce on my only love-story. Melbourne in the 80s was much different from the high-rise super-tech, honey-mooners destination that it has turned into today!

I had landed up at the University of Melbourne on a 1-year student-exchange programme. The summer of 83 - India had just won the Cricket World Cup and I was among the few college cricketers who got a chance to visit Australia as part of a sports programme that would involve the training of fast-bowlers in Australia. It’s funny when I think that now Chennai has the MRF Pace Academy and Glen McGrath an Aussie heads it now.

The University of Melbourne was a lovely place a perfect mix of old-world and new upcoming modernist architecture. The rigorous training that our physical fitness instructor Mr James Larwood would put us through would build and mould me into what I would become in my later years.

Lisa was the stuff dreams are made of - a cross between Diane Keaton and Meryl Streep she walked with a fluidity of a ballet dancer and was studying sociology. I met her at the 'International Student Orientation Programme' where she guided a bunch of us new students about life in Melbourne.

We saw 'Terms of Endearment' at the Astor Theatre and something clicked deep within - me the tall fast bowler and she the fair golden-haired sociology student. It was an affair that we knew might never last but it was a beautiful summer of visiting museums over the weekends. Going cycling exploring the hidden by-lanes discovering some quaint cafe and trying out wines and cheese. Being in love was such a beautiful feeling.

We moved in together and we were contemplating marriage and then I received an international telegram. - 'come back immediately - Das'. Mr Das was our Man Friday and he looked after the needs of me and my elder brother. My elder brother was in the export business and exported handicraft products to the USA and UK. I showed the telegram to Lisa - she hugged me and told me 'Come back soon Honey - someone's joining us soon and smiled at me'. I was mad with joy and took her into my arms and kissed her. She playfully hit me and said 'Hey Tiger go visit your brother and return'.

To Kill a Mockingbird:
Mr Das was at the airport to greet me and when I reached home I was shocked to see Dada's body in an ice-box. I broke down and Mr Das comforted me. I said 'Kaku what happened?' Then the bitter truth came our Dada was an assassin and he had been killed when a hit-job went horribly wrong as someone had double-crossed him. Universal Exports was a front and was headed by the elusive Mr. Ranganathan who sent in details to the group of ten assassins - now reduced to nine.

That's when Mr. Ranganathan walked in - he walked straight up to me and said 'Chottu, your brother did not deserve to go like this - I am giving you an opportunity to avenge his death and take his place!'

Thus started my journey from being a budding cricketer to one of the world's most feared assassins!

I wrote a long letter to Lisa - apologizing for my inability to return to Melbourne! She sent me a reply with a photograph of us standing in front of the Astor! That was it...

Now so many years later when I had decided to retire this last job landed - Melbourne! Would I meet Lisa again? Had she left Melbourne?

To Kill or Not to Kill:
My assignment was to kill a chap named Peter Markham - 24 years old he had made the mistake of falling in love with Supriya Hirani - scion of India's biggest oil company. The two were deeply in love but Mr. Hirani was looking at acquiring Patel Steels by marrying of Supriya to Bhavesh Patel. Who was I to deliberate on love I was just a professional who was paid to do his job.

It was a weird twist of fate that Supriya was majoring in Sociology and Peter was a research associate working on an alternative fuel source project at the University of Melbourne. I had Peter's address and did a recon of the place an old two-storey apartment and that's when my heart skipped a beat - could it be - was old age finally catching up with me - could it really be Lisa?

She had aged with grace those golden strands of hair that smile still intact! The biggest shock was when she unlocked the flat where Pete was supposed to reside - was Pete Lisa's son? And then it hit me - no it could not be...

I walked out slowly and approached Pete's flat and rang the door-bell; the door opened after a minute - and Lisa stood before me. She said - 'Oh! My God is it really you?' and she started sobbing - she hugged me and I stood there bumbling not knowing what to do!

I comforted her and took her inside - 'Lisa tell me who is Peter?' - She wiped her tears away and smiled and said - 'Guess!'

Then it hit me - Peter was my son our son!


How could I kill my own son?
At that moment I decided - enough was enough - I quickly asked Lisa to change and pack her belongings and take her valuables. She was flustered but I told her who I was and then said - 'We need to reach Peter soon' Call him and tell him to remain in the research lab and not to come out till we reach there.'


Universal Exports functioned on a back-up plan always - if one assassin missed there would be another assassin to finish the job. Now that I had deliberately missed my target the wheels would already be in motion - who would be the back-up plan - Panther, Eagle or Cobra?

I asked her where Supriya was - Lisa said Supriya had gone to Sydney for a seminar and would only be back next week.

I took Lisa to my hotel room and asked her not to open the door till she heard either my voice or Peter's voice.

She hugged me and said 'Honey please come back safe and bring our son back safe!'


The Eagle and The Jackal:
I was code-named Jackal and I had to stalk the hunter who would bring down my son. The research-lab at the Faculty of Science and Engineering was on level-1 and I needed a either a student or a lecturer's ID card to get into the research facility. I bumped into a middle-aged man and flicked his wallet. The wallet had the access and ID-card that gave me access to the research facility. I moved inside with ease and scanned the huge laboratory for any suspicious activity. Peter was busy sitting in front of his computer and playing 'Angry Birds' I smiled at my son - I wanted to go up to him ruffle his hair and say -'Kiddo, I am your Dad!'

Then I noticed a red dot on my son's white lab-coat a laser target for an accurate shot - I followed the trajectory and stared above to notice Eagle adjusting the sniper. I had one chance to redeem myself - I took out my customized K-7 fitted with a silencer and shot Eagle the bullet met its mark. Eagle fell down with a surprised look. No one noticed anything.

I walked up to my son and said - 'Kiddo, I am your Dad, we have lots to talk come lets pick-up your Mom and go out for dinner!'

Melbourne gave me back my one true love and my son!

Melbourne the city where dreams turn into reality!

Visit Melbourne - rediscover your love or find your true love!

Journeys Never End - A Love Story - The Story Idea

The week leading up to August 15 was exciting because Indiblogger and Harper Collins had promised to provide a platform to bloggers to get published.

Please visit - http://www.indiblogger.in/getpublished/ and participate!

My effort to 'get published' - my story idea presented below:

It was 9:35 PM and my train to Rameshwaram was scheduled to leave Egmore station at 9:40 PM. The Tambaram-Chennai Beach local train reached Egmore just in time for me to run like Usain Bolt and get into the Rameshwaram Express.

I tried to catch my breath as I settled into my seat L-21. I looked at my fellow-passengers; a middle-aged couple eating their dinner, two nuns praying and a man in his thirties; with a copper urn in his hands.

Train to Rameshwaram and a copper urn - probably his parents' ashes I surmised. How wrong I was? I would learn what true love meant in the next fourteen hours of my journey to Rameshwaram - a story of love that overcame all odds!

Meenu Kutty

This post is written for the Indiblogger - Incredible Stories Contest

The following is partially true and I have taken creative liberties to add a bit of spice but all characters and incidents are real did take place to someone whom I know.


It was a phone-call one Thursday evening from an unknown number; a voice from so many years back; it took me a while to find my voice and reply. The voice on the other end said - 'Hello, is this Seshu, this is Meenu, Appa passed away today the cremation ceremonies will take place by Sunday. Will you be able to come? I am sorry to barge-in after so many years, but we are struggling a bit and I don't think I have enough money for all the ceremonies' and she just broke into tears and cried. I comforted her - 'Meenu kutty. Don’t worry I will reach there tomorrow; don't worry about the expenses - I will take care - I owe at least this much to Raghu Mama.

I rushed about like a man possessed - I called my friend Somu who worked as a TTE in Southern Railways and called in a favour - 'Matchan one ticket to Palakkad -kaise bhi dila de.' He said - 'Tu station aa ja main sambhal loonga - Alleppey Express mein ek berth milega!'

I packed some clothes along with a veshti and angavastram separately in a cover checked my wallet and added my debit cards and also took some five thousand rupees in loose cash locked my flat and headed out to Central Station.

As promised Somu had a ticket ready for me - 'He winked and said - Saale, vapas aakar bar le ke jaa aur poori kahani bata'. I smiled and boarded the train. Thankfully it was an AC coach so there were no worries - the food was oK nothing great. The train had reached Arakkonam and the other occupants were ready to sleep. Lights were switched-off and the blue night-light went on.

I just lay on my berth and thought:

My father was a marine engineer and was posted in Dubai. I had lost my mother when I was three. I grew up in the loving care of my grandparents. Father used to come home on a one-month vacation every year, then he would be gone and I would once again have just my grandparents for company.

Thatha was a retired postmaster and Patti was a music teacher. I used to study at the St. Mary’s School, which lay across the river. I had to travel on a boat, which would ferry me to the school.

Meena was Raghu uncle’s daughter. Raghu uncle was the village administrative officer. Meena’s mother was Sheela teacher, my Geography teacher. They were our neighbours.
My first memories of Meena are that of a beautiful girl in a blue and gold ‘pavadai-davani’ [half-saree], with jasmine flowers in her hair and a smile on her face, singing “Alai Payudhe Kanna…” in grandmother’s music class.

I was a shy boy and had no friends except Meena. Meena was my classmate in school; the two of us would play together, go fishing in the pond near our house, and steal mangoes from the orchard. Life went on at its own sweet unhurried pace. Thatha would make fun of me saying “Dei Seshu, Meena kitta mattikitaya, [Hey Seshu got caught by Meena]; she is going to marry you and torment you like your Patti torments me.”

It was Meena’s tenth birthday; and her parents had organized a grand party. Meena was wearing a pink frock with a red belt. She looked like an angel. She cut the cake, and I gave the birthday present to her. It was a novel by Enid Blyton, which Thatha had carefully gift wrapped. During the party Meena came to me and said-“Seshu, thank you for the lovely book. I too have something for you.” She took out a small toy figurine of my comic superhero Batman and gave it to me. “Seshu, Appa has got a promotion and a transfer, we are leaving for Chennai tomorrow.” I was shocked. Meena was leaving me, no more hide-and-seek, no more singing, and no more fishing. I held her hands in mine and said-“Goodbye Meenu Kutty, best of luck.” I ran to my house without turning back, as I did not want her to see me crying.

The next morning they came to say goodbye. They took the blessings of Thatha and Patti; I had made a small card for Meena. I had drawn a rose and written-“Best of luck Meenu Kutty.”

That was the last time I saw her, though I kept getting letters from Meenu once in a while.

Somewhere during the course of these thoughts I fell asleep. I woke up all of a sudden with a start and hit my head on the roof of the coach forgetting that I was sleeping on the upper berth. I rubbed my head and looked at my watch - at least an hour more to Palakkad.

I got down and went next to the exit and stared out as the beauty of Kerala in the early morning light, greenery, coconuts, the milkmen and newspaper vendors - it was almost as if I was back with Thatha and Patti and Meenu. Raghu Uncle had been caught in a controversy with a local MLA and had lost his job and had spent a majority of his savings in fighting a defamation case against the MLA - as usual the corrupt MLA won and Raghu Uncle had never been the same. Meenu remained a spinster forever and Sheela teacher had passed away one night in her sleep.

Our ancestral home was managed by a caretaker who deposited the money earned from the coconut groves and the jackfruit plantations on a regular basis. Nair Uncle the caretaker was waiting for me with the old white Ambassador at Palakkad station.

He said 'Seshu - mone koraya kaalam aayi - Raghu saar marichu - aa kochu veliya kashta thil aana' 'Seshu it’s been quite a while - Raghu sir died that poor girl is in lots of trouble.'

I reached home, took a refreshing bath in the pond and had a quick breakfast of puttu and kadala curry and a glass of filter coffee made by our cook Narayani Chechi.

I then left to Meenu's house - Raghu uncle's body had been kept in an ice-box and Meenu sat next to the body sad but with a stoic calm on her face. When I called out Meenu Kutty there was a smile on her face - ah what an angelic smile - I was reminded of my childhood playmate and all the fun that we used to have.

She got up slowly as I walked up to her. There was an awkward uncomfortable silence and she stared at me. I said - 'Meenu, don't worry - I am here now!' She just rushed up to me and hugged me with tears pouring out - Seshu that MLA bled us blind - the house is also under mortgage my job at the school just about takes care of the medical and food expenses.' I felt uncomfortable not knowing what to do, I said 'Meenu calm down - we will sort out everything.'

The next two days were hectic - getting the vaddhiyars organised, arranging for the ceremonies, paying back old bills and other tasks.

Meenu was in tears but she bravely lit the funeral pyre on Sunday morning at the Bharatha Puzha.

We returned to my ancestral house! It started raining and the downpour continued all through the night. Meenu slept in Narayani chechi's room.

The next day I planned to leave - I was scheduled to report to work on Wednesday. Monday morning was a bit cool as the over-night rains had brought down the temperature, as I returned from my bath in the pond I noticed Meenu sitting in the courtyard reading the newspaper. Just for old-times sake I plucked a couple of hibiscus flowers from the creeper crept up to her from behind and threw them on her head!

She jumped up with a start and then started laughing and then Nair Uncle saw us and he too started laughing - it was a moment frozen in time just like our childhood.

That one moment changed my life - I took a decision and spoke to Nair Uncle in confidence and he approved of my decision. At lunch I asked Meenu - 'Meenu Kutty, I love you a lot, will you marry me?'

Meenu was shocked and stared at me and got up! She walked out of the house and I was totally upset. Nair Uncle comforted me Seshu come on be calm!

I felt sad and the left the table. My train was in the evening and I was dropped at the station by Nair Uncle. We bid goodbye!

As I walked up to the platform I noticed that the train was delayed. I went into the waiting room and there she sat all ready with her suitcase and bag - my Meenu Kutty and she smiled at me - that angelic smile again!