Mukesh's thread ceremony

It was a big day for schoolboy Mukesh. He may not realise this, but his parents - Kalpana and Muthuraman - do. And these past few weeks, they were under stress, running around inviting relations and friends, and organising themselves for a big event in their life - their only son Mukesh's poonal. It was held at Ayappan Puja Sangam's community hall in Coimbatore.
Presence of super seniors on the occasion made it special. Notably, several invitees at the Mukesh poonal were senior citizzens. Relatively younger relations such as Mukesh's mamas and athhais from out of town - Chennai and Pollachi - had arrived a day or two earlier to help Kalpana and her husband with the chores. Their residence at Ganapathy, Coimbatore, buzzed with relations and became a lively venue for a grand family re-union.
A represnetaive group of invitees (seen in the picture) included Mukesh's great-grand parents - Annakutty (from Mumbai), Mangammal (Mysore), Padbhanaman (Pollachi), grand-mother Saraswati, mama Raja (Chennai), athhai Jayashree and her husband Babu (Pollachi).
Jayashree, Babu and Raja(seen in action) were members of what one could call the Poonal Working Committee. The thread-ceremony is a social occasion that entails participation of every invited person in rituals. Seen below are pictures of their offering bhiksha (a fistful of rice) to Mukesh.



Kalpana was a more visible master (or is it mistress) of ceremonies, though the role was shared by husband Muthuraman.
Mother and son appear to be having an intimate talk on how Mukesh should do abhivadhaye (pay ceremonial respects) to elders in the family.
Father Muthuraman plays role model for young Mukesh, being initiated into a new phase of life.

" SAHASRA " - A New Beginning

Last friday, we had the conventional Namakaranam ceremony of our daughter 'Sahasra'.

We had called a priest, from the nearby temple to perform the function along with shudhi of the house on the 10th day after her birth.

In fact, we had the naming ceremony thrice as "BhagyaLakshmi", "VasanthaLakshmi" and "Sahasra". The priest was a little baffled to have to do the proceedings thrice, for the same child. As traditions go (as per my mother), a girlchild should get her grandmother(s) name and boy child his grandfather(s) name.

My mother in law, changed the custom a little by changing the name of the child as VasanthaLakshmi instead of VaraLakshmi(her name) as she thought the name suited the child better.(Child born on start of Vasantha rithu).

Sahasra, means 'New Beginning' and not 'Thousand' as many speculate. In fact, it was a little test for us parents to search for a name, which is neither common nor old fashioned but simple to tell and has some good meaning. Not sure, how much we succeeded in our test.

From my side, my only consideration was that she should not have a name starting with alphabet A, thereby having to be first among the roll numbers in school.

After seeing the initial photos, my father was very happy with the technology which made him see the photos of his grandchild the next day itself, when during olden days, he had to wait for more than a day to see his own daughter, though born in the same country.

Jeet - the boy next door

We posted earlier a bunch of photos on Jeet's first visit to our place, a few weeks back. He is in Mysore to spend time with his grand-parents. Jeet and his mother will return soon to their home in Davengere.
With his mother.

With his mamaji.

With senior grandma, Jeet's grandpa's sister.
With his best friend Kavitha, who takes Jeet out around our apartments block.




Dressed to visit our neighbourhood Jain temple.
Jeet, after a shower.

Brand new parents

Shankar, my sister Bhagya's son, has become a father. Wife Purnima gave birth to a baby girl at a clinic in London, on Tuesday, Chitravishu. My wife, who is good at remembering notable dates, mentioned that Bhagya, the new-born's New Delhi grandma was also born on a Tuesday. So was Saranya, said Bhagya, referring to her eldest grand-daughter and Uma's first-born.

Purnima's parents from Vizag are in London nowadays to be with their daughter at child-birth.The new-born's paternal grandparents - Bhagya and Govindan - based in New Delhi may well make the trip to London in May or June.
Whom does the new-born look like? Purnima, according to super-patti in Mysore , going by the baby's expressive eyes.

Gautam & Saranya

My niece Uma doesn't say it, but it appears that her younger one Gautam is getting naughtier by the day. This is evident from the photos she sent us.

From the look of it, Gautam appears to be in good hands - his didi Saranya - when it comes picking up new acts to baffle their parents with. Together - Gautam and Saranya - synergise well to make their home a lively, if somewhat disorderly, place.

Didi is on her own, with her picture-book that appears to have been (man)handled by by brother Gautam.
It appears Gautam doen't need his mother or didi when daddy is at home.

The Visa interview

My wife and I appeared for visa interview at the US consulate, Chennai, the other day. A new experience, it was. For we had got our first visa without interview. They had this drop-box system then(1998), for fuddy-duddies wanting to visit their NRI sons/daughters. You handed in relevant documents to the security staff at the consulate gate by nine any morning; and collected your passports with stamped visa the same evening.

Personal appearance was for youngsters. When our son Ravi sought visa for higher studies (in 1994,I believe) they used to queue up overnight on the pavement outside the consulate. Proxy was allowed and the going rate for a stand-in through the night was Rs.100. We hired my office boy Jeeva to spend the night on the consulate queue, so that Ravi could swap place with Jeeva on the morning of the interview.

When I met him the morning after Jeeva told me not to worry - Ravi would get visa for sure. As Jeeva put it, the consultate queue was no patch on the Friday rush at movie theatres. Jeeva, a veteren of scores of cinema-house queues, had never once failed to get the tickets. Jeeva was among the top ten in the consulate queue. How could then Ravi not get a visa, he reasoned. I loved the way he reasoned it, and his theatre queue anology. And true to Jeeva's word, Ravi got his visa. Getting ticket for a Rajnikant movie at Satyam would have been tougher.

I missed Jeeva on our interview day; could have done with his pep talk. The visa interview can be a life-altering experience for parents with NRI sons/daughters. So accstomed we are,to visiting our only son and family periodically, that I can't imagine a life without US visa. On the interview day my wife and I were at the consulate half hour before before time - 11 a m. The orderly way they regulated, what seemed, an unending stream of visa-seekers reminded me of Tirupathi, where they regulated the flow of pilgrims through holding areas, with seating arrangement, water-cooler and closed-circuit TV at every holding stage. Unlike in Tirupathi, the waiting area in the US consulate is fully air-conditioned.

Interview area resembled railway reservations counters, with several visa-seekers being attended to simultaneously. Many other couples like us were in queue, waiting in unspoken silence, and anxious to get it over with. The man ahead of us in the queue kept removing his thick-framed glasses, every now and then, to wipe his forehead with a hand-kerchief. He looked conspicuously over-dressed, wearing a dark suit in Chennai summer.

Another gent appeared over-prepared for the interview. In response to a routine query he came up with a speech. I heard him say, apart from spending time with his son and family, he planned to do New York, visit Niagara, and take the opportunity to meet people and understand American culture. This was when the interviewer cut him short with a smile, assuring a visibly anxious parents that their visa would be couriered to them within a week.

We got a similar assurance, after a brief exchange. The interviewer didn't even want to look at any of the papers I carried - my son's affidavit of support, his job status, tax returns, my house tax receipt, fixed deposit cerificates.
Asked about the purpose of our visit, I mentioned our grandsons, with whom we wanted to spend time. Interviewer welcomed the idea, saying it was a nice way to spend time in retirement. To his question on my income,I said, I had none. Somewhat surprised at my response, he asked,'Not even pension'? To which I said my wife and I lived on remitances from our son.

Was he a US citizen? No, a green-card holder.

No further quetions.

'Green card' Raju comes to Mysore

The last time I got in touch with him, my wife's cousin Raju was awaiting his 'green card'. He phoned us from his daughter's place in Philadelphia. Son Ashwin is also in the US. "They want us (me and my wife) to move to the US," he had said. Nearly four years after this call, Raju and his wife Meena paid us a visit in Mysore the other day. They stay in the US nowadays, and visit India once a year.
Raju's wife, who was a bank official in Bomaby, took voluntary retirement to be able to join her daughter with a growing child. And the Rajus are doing their bit as grand-parents in bringing up their daughter's child. They are so fond of her that the Rajus plan to shop in Chennai a Kanchi silk dress stitched for their grand-daughter's arangetram in Philadelphia.

Raju briefed my wife and Baby, his other cousin in Mysore, on his life in the US, his grand-daughter's dance training, his daughter's flair for navarathri kollu and her volunteer role in an NRI-run temple. Raju spoke with pride, of his music-minded son-in-law, who takes part in concerts NRIs organise in their US town. He can handle a variety of instruments; was part of a students band in his IIT days.

When Philadelphia winter gets harsh Raju and his wife move to Mountain View. Where their son Ashwin gives them as warm a welcome as the California weather. Presumably, because,like most bachelors living abroad, Ashwin misses mom's sambar-rasam.
Raju went on a flash-back mode. On arrival at Mysore railway station, he said, he took a walk with his wife to Devaraja Market, to get a feel of the Mysore that was Raju's entertainment Mecca during his school days in Nanjangud. He spoke of the cinema house they frequented, of the tasty set-dosa he used to have at the Raju's cafe in Vanivilas market - 'I used to walk to that place, from Chamarajapuram railway station'.

On a visit to Nanjangud Raju looked up his school friend Mahadev, to catch up with the decades of absence from Nanjangud, during which much water had flown through the Kabini. Raju left Nanjangud soon after his schooling,to appear in RBI recruitment examination in Nagpur. Raju's father, Sethumadhavan of Nanjangud, had been a bank official.

His son Raju flunked the bank exam, only to be persuaded by his cousin Balu to stay with him at a chawl (in Dadar?),and look for a job. He also got Raju his first job that paid him a rupee a day. Weeks later, when he got a better job Raju moved to his own room paying a monthly rent of Rs.45. Bombay, which first gave Raju a footing ,enabled him in later life not merely to advance his career, but also help his parents back in Nanjangud, and educate his brothers,notably Krishnan.

Raju recalled with gratitude the support he had from Balu (known among cousins as 'Nigeria' Balu). But for him, Raju wouldn't have made it to Bombay. 'Nigeria' Balu had made it big, starting out in life as a newspaper delivery boy. He graduated in textile technology, and moved on to make his life abroad. A life that started at a Bombay chawl was tragically cut short in California. Balu died in a swim-pool accident in his son's Los Angeles mansion.

Balu had been Raju's role model. If it hadn't been for Balu's prodding and support in the late 50s, Raju said he would have, perhaps, gone back to Nanjangud; and, presumably, ended up as a municipal school-teacher. Which was what his father had in mind for Krishnan when he passed out (was it in 70s,Raju?) of the Nanjangud corporation school with distinction.

Raju,who was then in Bombay, learned of his brother's exam result from a newspaper that carried the names of the top ten rank holders in SSLC. Krishnamurthy Sethumadhavan figured in the list. It was due to Raju's insistence ('I wanted at least one of us to get into IIT'),and financial support that Krishnan could make it to IIT Bombay, and then go on to the US for higher studies.

Krishnan, with a doctoral degree in metellurgy, has over a hundred published research papers to his credit. With his wife Girija (a leading Kannada social figure and civic activist in Pheonix, Ariz.),and their two college-going sons, Krish Krishnamurthy is settled in Chandlers, Ariz.

Raju spoke of his brother Krishnan and his family with justifiable pride and a sense of personal fulfilment,for having been instrumental in changing the course of life for a rank-holding school-leaver from Nanjangud. His humble beginning didn't deter Raju from reaching out to help his brothers. His regret is that he failed to persuade his other brothers to take advantage of his presence in Bombay and the support he was willing to give them, even though Raju was then a man of modest means.

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