016. (Sh)Outsourcing !

Kingdom of Bahrain

January 26, 2010

Being an Indian, let me wish all my fellow citizens, a very HAPPY REPUBLIC DAY!

Background

Pursuing my interests on the myriad elements of human psychology, I had an opportunity, on an academic interest,  to read and learn more about Ego Defence Mechanisms.  Ego Defence Mechanism, shortly known as EDM is a phenomenon which come into play to protect the individual, when anxiety becomes too overwhelming.   More scientifically, these are unconscious psychological strategies to cope up with the reality.

On looking back, some of the common ego defence mechanisms, that we all must have experienced, are repression, regression, displacement, denial, rationalization, sublimation etc.  Out of these, personally, the most interesting one is displacement, which is  common across industries, especially software industries.  In simple terms, displacement is nothing but "passing the buck".

At one point or the other, we all must have played a vital role in "blame game", either for or against!  Now, please read on.

Trivandrum, a Friday

Brijesh Kumar reached home, much late that Friday evening from the office -  to see an angry wife at the doorstep! 

"Oh! today again!!", Brijesh Kumar talked to himself while thinking of plans on how to convert an angry wife to a smiling wife.

"Kalpana, sorry, please try to understand.  I had to send the software patch to our US office.  I could not delay it due to the week end and the client wants to implement it on Monday there.  Sometimes, these clients are mad at deadlines...",  Kalpana, with a pair of deaf ears,  moved to kitchen, ignoring her husband's justification.

"Every Friday you have one reason or the other.  Today,  do you remember, that we had promised to go to Pooja's house for dinner?"  Kalpana protested while filling the tea pot with water for making hot tea.

Brijesh must not have completely heard her, as they were in two different rooms when Kalpana finished her sentence!

"Where is Anuj?"  No response from anybody.

"I am asking you, where is Anuj?", Brijesh repeated with an accelerated tone.

"He has gone upstairs to play with Avinash and Akhilesh, after waiting for you since 6.  You are spoiling the week ends like this and you do not have any thought about us, some souls sitting at home the whole day!  You have nothing else other than office, office, office!",  Kalpana was in full form,  Brijesh had no ammunition to resist her attack, to be honest.

On a diplomatic mission, Brijesh changed his office costume to casuals,  forcing himself to go out for dinner, eventhough he was much tired.  When he realised that Kalpana was not budging to his plea, he went out  murmering something with his pet dog,  Puffy.

Half an hour later, Anuj came home with soiled shirts.  Like a detergent advertisement,   Kalpana released her anger and frustration at him, in the best way she could!!

Brijesh, Kalpana, Anuj and Puffy had dinner, or not?  God knows.

The night passed without much interaction and with complete silence in the house.
Seems, the same ambience repeated on Saturday and Sunday too !


San Fransisco, Monday

Around 11 in the morning.
Ritesh was deliberately ignoring the desperate calls coming in to his mobile.
Because, he was in a client meeting.  
After a while, he continued the same act, this time, by switching off the mobile.

Ritesh,  working for Brijesh's company was managing US Operations of the company.

"Please take the call, if its urgent", the client Mrs. Lara Gilbertson told Ritesh in the middle of their discussions, on seeing the latter's discomfort.

"Its OK.  The call is from my engineer from a software site.  I will call him after the meeting."

Post meeting, Ritesh quickly switched on his mobile and returned the call to Jagjit Singh, his site engineer.

"What?  Error?  Runtime?  Not tested.... Is it?.....", Ritesh's mood continued to spoil progressively by the time Jagjit finished the telecon and disconnected the call!

The bad mood was contagious.  It spread out to Ritesh's wife and kids as soon as he reached home after work.  

Sipping a glass of pine apple juice, Ritesh tried to reach Kim Lee,  his Regional Manager of Asia-Pacific, based out of Singapore.  Smart Kim Lee did not take the call, as he must have smelled out something fishy going on!

Ritesh looked at the watch, calculated the corresponding time in India and dialled out the mobile number of his General Manager in India - Pradeep Jindal based out of their Delhi Office.

New Delhi,  Tuesday early morning
"Hi Pradeep, this is Ritesh....Good... how are you?  Well, what kind of tests are being done before sending a software patch onsite?  Who is managing Quality Control there?  Where are the Release Notes? This is the last time, I tolerate these....", Ritesh continued shouting at Pradeep, early in the morning, like a composition without any introductory paragraph!

After a long conversation with Pradeep,  venting out his anger, Ritesh disconnected the call and went to sleep peacefully.

Good night, USA!!

The problem - displaced to Pradeep, who did not know (actually), what, how, when and why!!

Shoutsourcing!

A residual of outsourcing!

Pradeep Jindal quickly had his shower, probably skipping a soap session to save time, gulped his breakfast, started his car and rushed to his office.

Traffic jam at ITO Junction.

Restless Pradeep Jindal looked at his watch and then out of  car's window.

Shouted at the traffic.

Shouted at the people.

Shouted at the driver.

Knowing his boss, the driver sped the car as soon as the traffic block "diluted".

Pradeep got out of the decelerating car, literally even  before the car came to a complete stop. 

Luckily, no casualities !

He ignored the salutes of the Group4 Securitas' security personnel stationed at the Office gate and climbed the steps to his floor, as if he was participating in a  4x400m Hurdles in Olympics.

The security man looked at the driver, and vice versa.  Both the faces threw question marks at each other.

Bracket faced Pradeep Jindal's marathon walk into the office gave a warning signal to his Secretary, Ms. Poonam.  She knew Pradeep for quite long, so she alerted herself to be careful, the whole day.

Within a few seconds of Pradeep's entry to his cabin, Poonam received a call from his boss' extension number.

"Good Morning, Sir..  Yes, Sir.  Coming, Sir...", she rushed to Pradeep's room with her dictation notebook, tensed.

"Call the Chennai Office and connect me, quick.  What are you looking at? Go!!",  Pradeep blasted at Poonam, without even looking at her face.

Panicked Poonam somehow connected Chennai Office and passed the call to Pradeep.

"Abey, thum log mujhe marvaayega?" , without any formal salutation, Pradeep ignited his blast engine for 'shoutsourcing'.

Chennai, Tuesday morning
"Saar....?", that was a poor Ramalingam, the General Manager at Chennai Office, who did not understand the root of the call! 

"Oh, sorry, what the hell are you people doing there?  How can you send a substandard software patch to our premium clients in US?" , Pradeep clarified. 

The call continued.
The call continued with some added vocabulary for next 15 minutes. 
The story continued.

Somehow, Pradeep got convinced that the software was not sent out from Chennai Office!

"Whatever it is, I want an explanation by tomorrow morning". 
Pradeep "displaced" his anger plus bonus to Ramalingam.
Relieved Pradeep Jindal smoked a cigarette in Delhi,  producing some fumes in Chennai.

The shoutsourcing continued.

Trivandrum, Tuesday evening

"Good Evening, Sir", the receptionist, identified the STD call from Ramalingam.

On his instructions, Lilly transferred the call to Joseph Thomas, the Project Manager.

In a mixture of English, Tamil & Malayalam, Ramalingam conveyed whatever he wanted to say, with some added spices.

Joseph tried to convince Ramalingam about his ignorance (though it was not true), but to no avail.   Ramalingam, a seasoned boss did not want to hear any excuses.

Happy Ramalingam, after displacing the problem to Joseph ended the call with a cliche - "Send me the explanation and report before end of business today".

It was colourful to see various emotions in Joseph's face.

Joseph rushed out to Murali, the Team Leader.

It was Murali's turn then.

Joseph contributed to the shoutsourcing mechanism with an incremented vocabulary.

Murali became silent, obviously.

Murali looked at the project plan, identified the developer who coded the patch software.

Murali prepared to displace the whole problem to the poor developer, Brijesh.

Trivandrum, Tuesday night
Kalpana, by then realised the work pressure of Brijesh and wanted to patch up her cold war with him, that had started on Friday.  She was awaiting Brijesh to come so that she could gift a sorry kiss at his cheeks. 

Anuj was busy doing his homework at the hall room.
The television was on, showing some serials, to no viewers in Brijesh's house.

By 8 PM, Brijesh came home. 
His face was "blotted" unusually. 
His face was red like a beet root, sorry, I am exaggerating.

"What happened, Briju?",  Kalpana enquired.

Brijesh remained silent, but murmered once in every five seconds or so.  He removed his shoes and threw his shoes and socks to some corner of the hall room.

Kalpana got a feel of his pulse.

In ten minutes, Kalpana brought for him, a special tea, mixed with dry ginger and fresh tea masala.

Angry Brijesh could not control his emotions and kicked out the tea tray from Kalpana's hands.

Imported tea cups, the tea tray and the lovingly made masala tea went for a toss, almost touching the ceiling.

Like a hero in movies, Brijesh walked briskly to his room, switched off the lights and "retired" to bed.

In simple terms, Brijesh displaced his anger to Kalpana, who caught up the emotion very fast.

"Mom, what is this?" , six year old Anuj came to Kalpana to clear some doubts with an opened cartoon book.

Kalpana who could not control her anger shouted at Anuj and pushed him off.

Unfortunately, Anuj  crying loudly, had nobody to shout back at, kicked at his pet dog.
Consequently, Puffy got his foreleg broken!!

This is displacement. 

Ritesh is relieved.
Pradeep Jindal is relaxed.
Ramalingam is happy.
Joseph is not tensed.
Murali is free.
Brijesh is sleeping.
Kalpana is in the kitchen.
Anuj is crying.
Puffy is injured!!

An error in a small software programme occured in US, has ended up in a casuality, miles and miles away.

The victim, an innocent dog, who does not know anything about software!!!

Trivandrum Office, Wednesday morning

To show his displeasure, Brijesh came to office much late.

He did not check his office emails, deliberately.

By mid day, when he opened his mailbox, he saw a mail from Ritesh, addressed to Pradeep, but copying the whole world!

"Hi Pradeep,

We have investigated the software patch issue.  It is now found out that Jagjit did not copy the latest version of the patch sent on Friday.  On my instructions, the patch is now implemented and the application is working fine.  The client has confirmed too.

Sorry for the inconvenience caused.

Warm Regards,

Ritesh"

Brijesh did not know whether to laugh or cry!

Happy (Sh)Outsourcing!

Renjith P Sarada

(C) 2010-2012.  Renjith P Sarada.  All rights reserved.

015. Depositors' Tale (blade!)

Kingdom of Bahrain

11-Jan-2010

Thank You!
Many thanks to the readers who read and commented on my previous blog post - "014. Some (resi)dual thoughts". As I mentioned in my personal email and Orkut status message notifying the blog, the same was written on an experimental mode. I admit, for some, it had lacked little clarity on the climax. But, in totality, am happy because the same was received well.

Another feather in my cap last week, was an acknowledgement and appreciation by a team of budding entrepreuners based out of Bahrain. NRI Bahrain (http://www.nribahrain.com/), an online forum for Indian living in Bahrain, has honoured me as an Expert and my selected blogs would be posted under 'Stress Busters' sub-category within 'Expert Blogs' category. I thank, Ilango Vasudevan, for giving me this great honour.

Above all, I thank all my readers who were generous in giving their time to read my weekly blogs and commenting on them, and that has really boosted my morale and improved my writing skills to a bigger extent. Thank You!

Note : All characters depicted herein are from my imagination and are not real people.

1980s.

All of a sudden, some private financial institutions (cutely, known as "Blade companies", promising higher interest rates to deposits and customers) began to crash, like a castle of cards! 
There was no clue on the root cause of this crisis, at least for some time.
Newspapers were busy analysing the crash. 
Economists were busy assessing the impact.
Depositors were busy lining up at the doorsteps demanding return of their hard earned money.

Crisis.
A tsunami of crisis.
Very few financial institutions survived this tsunami, by returning deposits to all their customers.
Some other financial institutions locked their doors pemanently.

Some other financial institutions, who had other assets,  met up with their depositors and promised them some relief, somehow.

After many such meetings, a fed up Sekhara Pillai, a retired Government servant, decided to form a small Group of like-depositors, like-thinkers and like-losers to expedite the money recovery process.  He called up many of the depositors and the group gradually formed strength.

The Group was named as "Fund Recovering Committee (FRC)"

"Acha, what was the use of depositing in these fraudulent institutions?  You should have relied on me and my bank where I am working!",  Sekhara Pillai's son who was working in a nationalised bank blamed his father for depositing money for higher interests.

Being at the receiving end, Sekhara Pillai had to be silent.  With some more passing comments, the son went to his room.

As decided, the first meeting of FRC was convened by Pillai, the very next Sunday.  The venue was his house.

With prayers, the meeting started at the dining room.   There was a register to note the minutes of the first meeting.  Pillai was proud to have around a dozen members in the first ever FRC Meeting, most of them retired people.

"Let us list down the deposits", Koshy, a Gulf returned engineer suggested.

"Before that, let us organize the Committee".  Sekhara Pillai told the group.

"There should be a core committee and that should be formed based on the weight of deposits", another veteran, Thomas opined.

"Before all these, let us finalise a registered office for our FRC where we can have regular meetings", Thampan voiced out.

Sekhara Pillai, after a slight pause, continued.

"Alright.  The Agenda of our Meeting is then,  to  1. finalise a Registered Office, 2. form an Organizing Committee, 3. to chalk out our programme  for recovering our deposits from the Financiers".

"My daughter is coming for her delivery next month,  she is at the beginning stage of pregnancy.  Hence, it would be difficult to host the meetings in my house.  Otherwise, I would have volunteered", that looked like an anticipatory bail by seemed-so-silent-Kurup.

"Thampan, what about your house?",  Sekhara Pillai sought Thampan, his close friend's consent.

"You know very well that it would be difficult for our members to reach my house, which is located at a remote place"

The first point in the Agenda, of just identifying a venue for regular meetings,  took almost an hour to be decided upon.  Before its final announcement,  some snacks and tea were served at the dining table, interrupting the serious discussion.

The cracking sound of cookies and biscuits polluted the atmosphere.   Pillai was generous enough in hosting the first ever meeting of FRC, with a hope that he would get his and all the members' deposits back, without much strenous efforts, if worked as a strong team.   But, very soon, within an hour itself,  Pillai realised that the FRC formed by him  is a bunch of selfish minded old people, having no objectives at all ! 

Old people, immaterial of their  natural or artificial teeth, did not waste any time to finish the plate of biscuits - both salted and sweet.

While sipping the hot tea, Koshy informed the decision on Agenda item No.1 to the Group, on a public interest.

"It is now decided to convene our FRC meetings every Sunday at 11 AM in Sekhara Pillai's place, considering the vicinity and accessibility factor".

The meeting went on.  As per Koshy's suggestion, someone from the FRC listed down the deposits across the members' name,  in descending order of value.  Koshy was keen to have the list announced,  because he was sure that he would top the list.  He wanted his name to be called first everytime!

The depositors spelled out their "potential losses" in the descending order of number of zeroes. 
From lakhs to thousands. 
In books, Pillai had less zeroes at the end,  hence he was relatively safe when compared to others.

So,  after another thirty minutes, the second point in the Agenda was checked out.

By then, it was lunch time.  In a hurry to wind up the meeting, the FRC decided to have another meeting, the coming Sunday to discuss the third point in the Agenda. 

Not to specifically mention, at the same place, same time! 

The FRC dispersed - the meeting was adjourned.

Pillai, while noting the day's achievements in his diary, one of his regular habits for last many decades, marked with a red pen - Today's FRC Meeting expenses - Rs. 750.00 ;  Total losses - Rs. 15,750.00
He closed his diary, thought for a while, went to bed without uttering a word to his wife, ignoring her questions about the meeting.

It was a rainy Sunday, next.
Perhaps due to this reason, the attendance was very less for the second FRC meeting.  Koshy was the first member to come.   After waiting for half an hour, the meeting started with just 7 members.

Thampan read out the minutes of the previous meeting.  The discussion digressed on to delivery, gynaecology and hospital related issues  when Kurup joined the meeting half way.   Because,  Kurup mentioned about his delay as he had to take his daughter to the gynaecologist for a regular check up.

After some U-turns, the discussion got back to the track to decide on point No. 3 of first meeting's Agenda.  Post typical arguments, the FRC decided to appoint a lawyer to negotiate with the financiers, on the former's behalf. 

There was a "pandemonium" to decide about the lawyer.  FRC unanimously voiced for a famous lawyer, but with lesser cost. 

It was next to impossible.

Many lawyers were nominated and paraded virtually.  No solid decisions could be taken. 

Many phone calls - local and STD were made by the members using Pillai's BSNL (DoT those days) landline telephone.  After a few calls, the lawyer was also decided - a distant relative of Mukundan, a depositor whose losses were at Rs. 50K, just two ranks behind Koshy in FRC!

After tea and snacks, the meeting was adjourned.   They decided to meet up coming Sunday - same place, same time.

Pillai, with his red pen, noted in his diary, - Today's FRC Meeting expenses - Rs. 500.00 ; Total losses - Rs. 16,250.00
Meetings went on and on. 

Every Sunday, same time, same place.
Outcome or decisions - almost zero.

The lawyer also started to attend the weekly meetings. FRC sponsored his DA, TA and sitting fees.
Many false promises were made by the lawyer - some false hopes to the poor members of the FRC.

There was no light at the end of the tunnel.  Not even an incoming train! 
Pillai reduced the hospitality expenses. 
Snacks were reduced.
The quantity of tea being served became almost half  a cup.
The atendance of FRC members - sparse.
But, the lawyer continued charging his DA and TA for attending the meetings, in addition to his sitting fee.
Pillai, in his diary, noted using his red pen - Today's FRC Meeting expenses - Rs. 300.00 ; Total losses - Rs. 21,550.00

Pillai  continued to note down the expenses every Sunday. (He had to replace his red inked pen after a while).

Meetings went on and on.
Things started to change, but not positively!  The lawyer left the scene and joined the other league.  But, no worries, due to Koshy's public influence and PR skills, another lawyer was brought in to fight against the common enemy.

One evening, Thilakan, a local leader came to Pillai's house. 
"Are you Sekhara Pillai?", Thilakan queried.

Sekhara Pillai, who opened the door nodded his head.  He was surprised to see Thilakan at the door step, and that too at that point of time.

He added, "Sekhara Pillai, I was told by Mukundan about the committee formed by you in ....."

Sekhara Pillai broke the sentence and responded - "Oh! Yes.  We are a small group trying our best to recover our deposits ...  Sir, can you do something to help us, as you are against these kind of financial institutions"

A blushed Thilakan told - "Well, I came with some other request.  It is true that I am against these kind of cruel financial institutions having cut-throat interest policy, but who can resist the high interest when they return to the customers?.  I have also deposited something to the tune of  Rs. 20,000".

Sekhara Pillai got a shock of his life.  He was seeing a live example - preaching something and practising something!

"But, not to worry, you will get my maximum support from behind the scene", Thilakan added.

With an assurance, to believe or not, Thilakan returned.

In a few days, Koshy came with a million dollar smile, accompanied by the lawyer.  

"Pillai, there is a happy news.  Can you guess what?  See, my lawyer, this young brain can draw miracles!   This boy was able to manage at least this".   The lawyer with a self containing smile handed over an envelope to Pillai.

With much enthusiasm and excitement,  Pillai opened the envelope.

Before Pillai could finish reading the contents, the lawyer explained the deal in Malayalam. 

"The financiers have decided to liquidate their assets and hand over to the depositors in lieu of the cash deposited.  This could be either plot or land or rented houses or gold or anything else.  The depositors are asked to meet the Financiers on the coming 22nd"

That was a relief, after this long struggle.

"What will I get?  Gold?  My deposit is Rs. 15,000, but I spent a lot of money for FRC purposes also."  Pillai asked himself.

22nd morning.
Pillai got up, convened an extra-ordinary FRC meeting and the team marched to the Financiers.
Heavy crowd.
Depositors were everywhere!
The lawyer who went inside to meet up with the Financiers did not return even after three hours. 
Waiting, waiting, waiting.
A tiresome wait.

Some depositors broke the queue and went out to have a soft drink or tea or coffee.  But, Pillai stood there anxiously awaiting the lawyer.

After some time, the lawyer came out with a smile of achievement.  He flashed a sheet of paper to the FRC members.  All FRC members, now just a handful, circled around the advocate.

"I have negotiated my best to get your funds recovered - some will get gold, some will get plot, some will get some rented houses.  Our group is lucky enough, there are many others who did not get anything yet.  I did my best.".  The lawyer proudly announced.

Some copies of the notice were made and were circulated.  There was a confusion around and many were not happy with the decision.  All in all, many treated this as a fair play, while some otherwise.

"Sekhara Pillai, you would be getting a Mark-3 Ambassador Car, against his deposit of Rs. 15000", according to the lawyer.

Something is better than nothing.  Pillai  sighed relief.

In nearly ten days, after some legal  formalities, Pillai got the ownership of the car, in paper and in real.  He came home in the 1977 model car, with pride. 

"Sir, the car is not comfortable to drive", the temporary driver complained, while parking the car in front of Pillai's house.

"Maybe you had not driven any good quality cars. This is Ambassador Mark 3 and not Mark 2!", Sekhara Pillai defended.

That night, Sekhara Pillai was busy washing the car and making it look-like-new.  It was like a dream-come-true to have a car of his own.

Next day morning, at 5,  Pillai woke up without any alarm.  He and his family  got ready to go to his native place to show the new/old car to his relatives. 

The driver, came at nine,  exactly an hour behind schedule. 

All family members got in to the car.
The car did not start.
The driver tried, but in vain.
The driver opened the bonnet. 

"Sir, the battery is dead.  We will have to buy a new battery". 

"How much will it cost?" 

The driver's voice was another shock to Pillai. 

Very soon, the car battery was changed.
In a short time, there were other quick replacements too - horn, steering wheel, wheel cups, radiator, tyres, oil pumps and what not. 

Pillai spent almost the cost of a new car to maintain this 1977 model, proud, Mark 3 Ambassador car.

Pillai marked in his diary - "Today's car maintenance expenses ..... Total car expenses.....".

Frustrated Pillai, on public interest, decided to sell the car.
Many car brokers were engaged.
On an average, the brokers valued the car for a meagre Rs. 7,000.
One of them was slightly better - he valued the car for Rs. 7,800, rounded to Rs. 8,000.

Days passed by.  It was expensive even to touch the car.
Pillai's losses increased!
Koshy became busy with huge acres of  (infertile) land allotted to him.
There was no news of any other FRC member.

Pillai closed his diary forever -
Amount deposited - Rs. 15,000.00
Amount spent for FRC (including telephone, snacks, lawyer expenses) - Rs. 9,350.00
Car spare parts - Rs. 9,600.00
Car for sale - Rs. 8,000.00 !!!!!!

In bold letters, he scribed
FRC - ADJOURNED SINE DIE!


Best Regards,
Renjith P Sarada

(C) 2010. Renjith P Sarada.  All rights reserved.

014. Some (resi)dual thoughts!

Kingdom of Bahrain

January 2, 2010

New.

The fragrance is new.

The atmosphere is new.

The climate is new.

The look is new.

The smile is new.

The day is new.

The week is new.

The month is new.

The year is new.

WISH YOU A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Looking back!

2009!

From my blogging standpoint, I am very happy.  Thank you God, I could manage writing every week, as per my original plans.  May God bless me further to maintain this momentum!

Thanks to all the readers and the well wishers who have been commenting on my blogs, encouraging me, without any limits.  There are a few readers who read my pages without fail and commenting on them, religiously.  Kindly continue your support and bless me throughout.   A big thanks, once again.

Looking ahead!

2010!

May God's blessings be abundant.

May God's blessings be abundant to everybody I know.

May God's blessings be abundant to everybody who doesnt know me.

May God's blessings be abundant to every living species in this Universe.

Let us all be happy and be contented.

Just 363 days back, 2009 was new and fresh.  Now, we condemn 2009 as old and praise 2010 for new!!

OLD & NEW!!

Some thoughts!

Please note : This story is set in and around my home - Kumarapuram, Trivandrum, Kerala, India.   I will take you there, please come with me!  All characters depicted herein are artificial.

Kumar got down from a heavily crowded City Bus at Kumarapuram Jn.   He had to literally fight with the bus conductor for getting his due balance of a few paise*.  (1 paisa = 1/100th of a Rupee).    Getting down at the next junction would have definitely saved him from walking for an additional 10 minutes,  but he was not sure whether he would be able to get down there,  as most of the buses never stopped at that junction.   He walked briskly by the side of the road.   Through a corner of his eyes, while walking, he looked at his HMT watch.

"Oh! my God!  Its eleven already!  Coconut plucking would have started by seven in the morning!  I am going to get this time!  How many time did I ask my father to buy me a cycle?  Just a matter of 1000 rupees!"   Kumar said to himself.

Kumar was asked to come a little early to help his father and his Uncles during the "once-in-two-months' ritual" of coconut plucking.   Considering the count of coconut trees, shared by his parents and maternal uncles,  it was like a big festival, that started by nearly seven in the morning and lasted almost till dark!  There would be around ten coconut pluckers plus their numerous assistants involved in the day long "festival",  for plucking, consolidating and counting the plucked coconuts.   The coconut pluckers launch themselves on to the coconut trees' arcing trunk with a strap of palm frond tied around their ankles for grip and support.  The evenings those days  witnessed the main coconut vendor negotiating with all the stakeholders and arguing the price of coconuts based on the  wholesale market rates!  Whatever said and done, the so-called festival always ended in arguments and eventually in a compromise between the vendor and the stakeholders!

"Kumar, are you coming from the college?"  The shopkeeper, Bhaskara Pillai asked Kumar, courtesy sake.

"No, Mama (Uncle), today is Sunday.  Please give me a lemon soda",  Kumar asked Bhaskara Pillai.  Kumar did not intend to pay a visit to his shop, but Bhaskara Pillai's public relations' skills forced Kumar to be a customer.

Pillai's little shop was like an oasis in the desert for many residents.  Though the shop looked smaller,  it  accommodated most of the requisite and necessary items under the sun, and it was a one-stop-shop for many.  The inventory included newspaper, magazines, toffees, betel leaf, cigarretes, squash drinks, soda, soap, combs, banana, pickle sachets and what not.   Bhaskara Pillai, appeared in minimal costumes - a coloured lungi (dhothi), a sleeveless banian and a thorthu (Keralite towel!), most of the time. 

"Salt or sugar?",  Bhaskara Pillai sought Kumar's confirmation while squeezing the fresh lemon bought from the Chalai wholesale market.

"Sugar, Mama."

Bhaskara Pillai prepared a sweet lemon soda and offered to Kumar.  The spur of the soda always gave a revitalizing feel, at least psychologically. 

"Today is Thengavettu (coconut plucking) there, isnt it?",  Commission Chellappan asked Kumar while the latter was about to leave Bhaskara Pillai's shop.

A small neighbourhood. 

Everybody knew every other person. 

Everybody knew the happenings in and around. 

For that matter, Commission Chellappan kept a tab of all events in every household in Kumarapuram.  Commission  Chellappan was always a last minute resort to many residents, for getting their utility bills paid, buying and selling of many commodities, real estate business, liaision work and everything, but with some commission - hence his name.

"Go fast.  The eastern side is covered by now.  The coconuts are being counted.   I also met your father and uncles.",  Commission Chellappan pressurised Kumar.

Kumar ran towards the coconut farm.

From behind, Commission Chellappan shouted - "Please let me know if you are selling the farm or plot.  I have some Gulf people to buy and will give a very good price"

Kumar did not react, but sped towards the happening place.   Because, his quota of tender coconut was awaiting him.  It was not common to buy tender coconut, due to non-availability and if at all, due to a heavy price of nearly five rupees. 

 

"No way, Chellappan.   Theirs is ancestral property and don't put your thoughts to have their property sold off!"  Bhaskaran Nair discouraged a prospect business deal, with a big laugh.

Kumar heard a disturbing honk of a car.  He turned around and in a fraction of a second, a car passed by, "arrogantly"  splashing some dirty water  on to his shirt.

Kumar looked around, cursed the car driver,  and continued running.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"What a weather?  Humid and sultry!  This place was so cool before.  Global warming!  Please increase the aircon", Kumaran Nair told the car driver.

"Sir, there is a Margin Free Super Market nearby.  You will get cool drinks from there.  Please tell me if you need me to stop the car there." 

"No.  Please stop me somewhere if we get some fresh tender coconuts.  We do not get fresh ones in US.".  Kumaran Nair replied to the car driver. 

"Sir, we have passed that place, but I will take you to another place for that."

A diversion and in ten minutes the car reached the next junction.  Kumaran Nair had a choice - red coloured or green coloured tender coconut?

Kumaran Nair, with an innate childish greed, drank the tender coconut water and ate the flesh inside. 

"Very refreshing.  Wherever you go, wherever you stay, wherever you live, wherever you travel, Kerala is Kerala!"   Kumaran Nair told to himself with pride, but a little louder, that prompted the car driver to respond.

"Yes, Sir.  God's Own Country", the car driver grinned.

"How much is it?"  Kumaran Nair picked up a Rs. 1000 note from his purse, which had both US Dollars and few Indian Rupees. 

"Sir, change please!   It is Rs. 13 and I do not have change".  The car driver replied to the tender coconut vendor by giving a Rs. 50 note from his pocket.  The deal was closed when the driver got his due balance amount.

They both got in to the car and almost immediately, Kumaran Nair got a call on his mobile.

"Yes, Dad.  I managed to get a cab.  I am reaching, yes, nearby only.... Flight got delayed in Delhi due to heavy fog this morning.   See you, Dad".  Kumaran Nair answered his father's phone call in an Indo-American accent.

"Sir, how long have you been in America?",  the car driver's query was ignored by Kumaran Nair, as he was busy typing out some SMS.  The driver wanted to repeat, but he got convinced through the rear view mirror that his client is busy in something else.

"Go fast please.  My Dad is waiting for me."  Driver was ordered.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Kumar, who was panting after a long run, greeted his uncles who were busy managing the coconut plucking festival!! 

An uncle, who  always worked hard, who used to assist the coconut pluckers, gathered all the scattered coconuts, proactively.  On seeing this, Kumar could not help ignoring him.  Kumar too joined his uncle in picking up the  coconuts scattered  all over the place. 

"Kumar, be careful."  Another uncle warned Kumar because he was standing right  under the coconut tree, which  had  a coconut plucker atop.

Perfect timing!

Kumar's  running a few metres away and a thud sound of a coconut falling on the ground,  happened almost at the same time!

"Do you want tender coconut?"  An uncle asked Kumar,  lovingly.  

For Kumar, plucking tender coconuts was just like a sin, something similar to an  abortion.  Because, if we let the tender coconut to grow further and permit it to become a fully grown coconut, that would  fetch some money next time!!!

But, that was just  logic.

"Yes, Maman.  One, please.  I am not sure whether my father had got  one or two for me there."  Kumar answered his uncle, with respect.

"Thulasi, cut one tender coconut from the other branch",  Uncle ordered the coconut plucker, by calling his name and pointing towards a branch of the coconut tree.

Kumar enjoyed the tasty tender coconut water and using the natural spoon (cut out artistically by Thulasi, the coconut plucker) he ate the sweet  flesh too. 

"Very tasty".  Kumar acknowledged. 

Uncles looked at each other with pride.    Perhaps,  due to natural irrigation and natural fertilization procedures, the native tender coconuts were always very sweet.  In fact, Kumar was waiting for the last two months to taste one. 

Kumar continued to assist his Uncles to finish the counting of coconuts plucked.  He even took initiative in representing them in the counting process.  Finally, proactively, he did some tallying and came out with a self explanatory list mentioning how many coconuts were to be sold, and  for whom.

The Uncles were happy.

After his mission, Kumar sought Uncles' permission and went to his house, just a few metres away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Kumaran Nair took out his Ray Ban sunglasses to see the beauty of his homeland through his naked eyes, as soon as the car negotiated the curve towards his home.

"Please stop for a while", Kumaran Nair ordered the car driver.  

He got down from the car.  Looked around. 

Visible were various signboards that read names of  doctors, lawyers, senior Govt. officials etc.

There were also boards that showed some plots that were on sale.

Multi-storied houses,  so many latest model cars, mobile towers etc.

No cycles!

No bullock carts!

No betel leaf shops or kiosks!

No small scale shops.

Only departmental stores.

Only margin-free shops.

Unknowingly, a drop of tear fell from Kumaran Nair's eyes. 

But, the driver noticed it.

"Lets go",  Kumaran Nair got back to the car and asked the driver.

Kumaran Nair gave the directions to the car driver on how to reach his home.   Finally, on Kumaran Nair's instructions, the driver carried the luggages  and placed them at the verandah of the house.

Kumaran Nair disengaged the car driver by settling his due amount plus some tips plus the cost of the tender coconut he had.  With a special thanks, the car driver left the scene.

Kumaran Nair's Dad came out from his room.  They looked at each other and  hugged.   Eventhough they were communicating by way of internet, online messengers, Skype, telephone calls etc. they were seeing each other after a long gap.   Moreover, it was not easy to have frequent travel between US and India, considering the physical and monetary impacts.

Kumaran Nair got distracted on hearing a thud sound of a coconut falling down. 

"There are no coconut pluckers around!!  Time has changed.  Its now due by more than a month.  I made some calls to the coconut pluckers, but to no avail.  Seems, I should practise coconut plucking too at this old age",   Dad, aged 80 years told Kumaran Nair on a sarcastic note.

"For everyone?", Kumaran Nair asked his father.

"There are only a few coconut trees now, a maximum of thirty.  No coconut pluckers are willing to spend their time here.  So, most of the coconuts fall like this.  Its  a pity!"   Dad's comments prompted Kumaran Nair to look at the erstwhile coconut farm!

There was no coconut farm!

Only plots were visible!

Mansions!

"Plot For Sale" signboards!

Polluting noises !

Latest model cars!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

"Where were you all this while?, as expected, Kumar's father made a query.

"My bus got delayed and then, I was with Uncles, helping them", Kumar voiced his reply that rescued him.

"What happened on your shirt?"  Kumar's father asked.

"By a car!", Kumar responded with some fury, may be thinking of the car driver who splashed the dirty water.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Kumaran Nair came out of the bathroom after a quick refresh.
He came out to the verandah and sat with his Dad.
 
Kumar removed his sandals and got in to the verandah of his house.
He sat on the cane chair, beside his father.
 
"This is my only son", Kumaran Nair's Dad introduced Kumar to Kumaran Nair.
"This is my only son too",  Kumar's father introduced Kumaran Nair to Kumar.
 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Who is Kumar?   Its me.

Who is Kumaran Nair?  It is also me !!
 
OLD & NEW?
 
Renjith P Sarada
(C) 2010 - 2012. Renjith P Sarada. All rights reserved