Remembering Bitsy

My wife's sisters, all but the eldest, are mad about dogs. Before her marriage,in early 70s, her family had Bhutto, the dog named after the Pak.leader. After their marriage the Sulur sisters brought up dogs of their own - Geetha had two in the house before 'Punch' died some time back.

The thing about these pets is that they are treated as family. My wife Lakshmi is 'periamma' to Chitra's Joey; and Geetha's 'Shadow'. Baby, my wife's Mysore sister, lost her 'Prince' few weeks back. Rajesh's 'Tuffy' died a few years back.
Our own Bitsy died in 1993, on this day (oct.31). He was picked up from the street, when he was only a few days old. Our son, then a schoolboy, brought the puppy home in early 1980s when were in Bhopal. We named him Bitsy, a dark chap who grew up to be sturdy brat. He grew up to be a terror to hawkers and door-to-door salesmen. We had to shut him in one of the rooms whenever we had visitors at home.

Bitsy particularly disliked khaki. He once chased our postman all over the front-yard of our apartment block in Chandigarh, until the terrorised postman managed to climb up a tree. Where he stayed till our office boy Dinkar coaxed Bitsy back inside. If at all Bitsy obeyed anyone, he was Dinkar.

Bitsy moved with the family, from Bhopal to Chandigarh, and then to Chennai, where he died, after prolonged weakening of his hind-legs. He could barely stand in his last days. It was on this day (Oct.31) sixteen years ago we took Bitsy to Veterinary hospital at Egmore. The doctor who examined him declared Bitsy was anemic and referred him for blood transfusion.

Bitsy had been, for some weeks, weak on his hind-legs, showing signs of fatigue , and been totally uninterested in taking a walk. He had to be carried by my wife to the car.In his earlier days, there was nothing he loved more than a ride in our car. And Bitsy occupied much of the back-seat. We had taken him on car ride a number times to the Marina beach, and to my wife's sister's, and Bitzy's 'periamma's', place in Kotturpuram.

On that October day in 1993 Bitsy was very reluctant to get into our Dolphin car. Presumably, he sensed we were taking him to hospital; and that he wasn't going to return home. Dogs, they say, could sense when their end was near. We drove Bitsy to the hospital, where they gave him blood-transfusion. After they were through with the drips on the table, Bitsy stood up on the operating table with renewed energy.
Seeing him springing to his feet, I thought for a movement Bitsy would be up and running. It was just for a flickering moment that I sensed a new-found energy in Bitsy. For in the next moment he collapsed on my wife's shoulder, as she tried to get him off the table. I can't forget the sight of Bitsy, his sorrowful eyes pleading, as it were, not to let go of him. We watched him go helplessly, with our eyes welling up.

We chose to leave him there, at the hospital. It wasn't an easy decision to make. The doctor said they would do a postmartem, if we donated Bitsy to the hospital. And we wanted to ascertain the cause of death. It was kidney failure.

'Public Service' Padmanabhan

My neighbour in Coonoor G V Raman refers to him as 'Public Service' Padmanabhan. Because of his reputation to reach out to those who need help in dealing with government departments, banks, municipal authorities. As a retired judicial dept. official, who has worked in various courts, from the munsif to district courts , my chittappa Mr Padmanabhan is fairly well-versed with rules and procedures in the functioning of offices at panchayat,taluk and district levels.

He has a way of getting things done, partly because of his resourcefulness particularly on his home ground Pollachi, and mainly because of his familiarity with the ways of the bureaucratic system at work in public dealing offices - nationalised banks,the municipality, treasury and courts. Most of us having to deal with folks in these offices have no clue to rules, procedures,and the paperwork involved in getting something as basic as a bank account transferred, or obtaining death and heirship certificates. This is the plight of Siva who has lost his father Raja in
Coimbatore.

Knowing how ignorant Siva is in such matters my chittappa has vounteered to help him. For someone in his mid-70s Mr Padmanabhan is hyper active. When Siva approached him with his predicament chittappa went to Coimbatore, from his Venkatesa Colony home in Pollachi, to take him to the relevant offices and help him with filling official forms and drafting various applications.

I must mention here how much I looked up to chittppa for help and guidance when I lost my father in Pollachi over six years back. I wasn't there when father died; and couldn't even make it to Pollachi until a few days after cremation. Not only did Mr
Padmanabhan organise everything for us, he got all the post-death paperwork done for us. He still helps my mother, who is with us in Mysore, with her bank transaction relating to her family pension account held in Pollachi.

Farewell my friend, Raja

My cousin Raja, 76, died with an unfulfilled wish. He wanted to visit Mysore to spend a few days with us. I spoke to him last before we left for the US in June last. My fault was I didn't get in touch with him on my return. And Raja, appears, had been talking about his plan to visit Mysore to his son Siva, daughter-in-law Anandhi, and even his neighbours at Lokmanya St. in Coimbatore . He would have probably made it, if only he knew that we were back in Mysore; and if only I had phoned him on my return from the US, more than a month ago.

Raja died on Monday (Oct.26) during his afternoon snooze. Siva reckoned his father had premonition; for Raja had mentioned to his son earlier on Monday morning that he preferred to go in sleep. "I even chided him," said Siva sobbing, " for talking silly things as I was leaving for work". A day earlier, when Raja went for a routine medical check-up he mentioned to the doctor that he felt he would not be around for long, even though the doctor didn't find anything wrong or life-threatening in his patient. But he died within the next 24 hrs.

Anandhi, who went to serve him coffee on Monday afternoon, found him dead in his sleep. Siva said his father had expressed preference for the traditional firewood cremation. Arrangements
were made by Gomathi's people. Raja had told me about Gomathi, a spirited woman who runs a Brahmins cremation agency in Coimbatore. Raja had engaged her services on the death of his borther-in-law Chandrasekar a couple of years back, and that of his sister Jayam a few years earlier.

As we watched Raja's body being taken away to the cremation ground I remembered his expressed desire for visiting Mysore, and I blamed myself for not making it happen. I felt guilty of having failed to stay in touch with Raja, particularly during recent weeks when he had felt the need for our company. Raja and I were close during my school days in Coimbatore. We re-connected during my posting in Chennai as Times of India correspondent in early 90s.

My wife and I used to visit him whenever we had occasion to pass through Coimbatore, on our way to Coonoor or Pollachi. After we settled in Mysore, nearly five years back, Raja came to spend a week with us, along with his grandson Mallikarjun. We also maintained telephonic contact, despite his deafness. Our phone conversation was mostly one-sided, with him doing
much of the talking. However when Raja was in Mysore I engaged him in conversation, with a notepad in hand. I jotted down my thoughts for him to read and this set Raja going for a while, till I wrote out something else for him to talk about.

I enjoyed chatting him up about our Coimbatore days. His father and my periappa Tirumurthy Iyer was a school teacher and later head-master of Veerasami School in Coimbatore. I was doing my schooling at R S Puram Municipal school , staying with grandparents at Telugu Brahmin Street.

During his Mysore visit Raja kept us engaged in chat about old days. And my mother, to whom Raja had special regards, joined in our converstion. I relished Raja's company for his story-telling skill and his anecdotes pertaining to our relatives and also the Telugu Brahmin Street charecters we both knew, and could relate with - such as primary school principal Ramarao, street-corner shop-keeper Kuppusamy, Nagappa Asaari (goldsmith), Ramamirtham vadhiyar, our neighbour we referred to as 'German Doctor' , and the chief priest at the Rajarajeshwari temple, at the far end of Telugu Brahmin Street.
Our street has since changed beyond recognition. Our grandfather's house, sold by my periamma, has changed so much in appearance that I couldn't make out the house where I had spent a part of boyhood.
The only structure that still remains unchanged is the primary school run that used to be run by headmaster Ramarao.

Though he was five years elder , Raja treated me as an equal; and this, at a time when even relations barely an year older sought to asserted seniority, and entitlement to be addressed with respect. He was always Raja, and never Raja-anna for me.

A stroll through Trafalguar Square

I have read a lot about this venue in many novels. In fact it was my father who had first expressed desire of visting this place of which he had heard from so long. Unfortunately, we could not make it while Appa was there, but went later with Amma one weekend.

Trafalgar Square is a square in central London. With its position in the heart of London, it is a tourist attraction; and one of the most famous squares in the United Kingdom and the world.

At its centre is Nelson's Column, which is guarded by four lion statues at its base.

Statues and sculptures are on display in the square, including a fourth plinth displaying changing pieces of contemporary art, and it is a site of political demonstrations.

Though at the time when we visited, there was some magic show going on in the middle.

The southern end of the square was the original Charing Cross which to this day is considered the heart of London, from which all distances are measured. The square in itself is surrounded by important buildings

As per wikipedia, Trafalgar Square ranks as the fourth most popular tourist attraction on earth with more than 15 million annual visitors. I had taken a video of the surroundings which though not the best, does certainly show the importance this place holds among tourist.

At Mysore ISKCON temple

Raghu told me on way to the temple that he can't recall the last time he celebrated his wedding anniversary. This year ISKCON temple offered to perform special archana on the occasion. As ISKCON life member, Raghu had option to choose one special occasion in a year when puja would be done at the temple.Raghu chose his wedding anniversary - Oct.17. It was Diwali day for some southies.
Their daughter Kavitha came from Mangalore for the occasion. She is a dental specialist at the Hedge hospital.Dr Kavitha is also a consultant for some other hospitals in Mangalore.ISKCON puja was scheduled at 7.15 am. The Raghus left their Vidyaranyapuram home 6.30 a m.

It was a misty morning in Mysore. We were the first of visitors to ISKCON temple on that Saturday morning. The temple, manned by a group of young ISKCON volunteers, clad in kavi dhoti-kurta, is located on a spacious, and yet to be developed, patch of land in Jayanagar. They have plans to develop this place into an ashram-type complex. Mysore is known for its ashrams .
The red-brick building, unlike temples of the Hindu traditional kind, could be taken for a library or a community hall. It is refreshingly clean and well-kept, which cannot be said about most of our places of worship. But then ISKCON isn't a temple in a strictly traditional sense. It is more a place for celebration of Lord Krishna, place for community prayer and discourse.
The forecourt of the temple is planted with tulsi. The hall of worship (didn't photograph it,in deference to the sensibilities of devotees engaged in spirited prayer) is functional. Its spaciousness and high ceiling could as well be an architect's design for a warehouse or even an aircraft hanger. The high walls of the prayer hall are covered with paintings, depicting ISKCON's prime deity and its founding devotees offering prayer.
They have developed a grass-patch all around the temple. The little girl seen in the picture is Diya, the young lady who gave me company during the hour-long prayer meet. I can't say we were fully into the spirited proceedings of an ISKCON prayer meet. It went on a bit too long for us to stay focused. So Diya and I decided to explore the surroundings.
Diya led me to an imposing image at the temple lobby, and also showed me around holding my hand. Diya told me she had been to ISKCON thrice. Which made her knowledgeable about the place. This was my first visit.
The encased painting at the lobby (didn't take picture) depicts young Krishna tied to a pillar with a rope. Diya explained that his mom Yadhodha held him tied to a pillar because Krishna ate too much butter. When I mentioned that his mother, perhaps, thought Krishna shouldn't eat so much butter because it was bad for health, Diya disagreed, saying eating butter in fact made one strong. Her sense was that Yashodha should not have punished Krishna for eating butter. Diya has no concept of stealing. She wasn't aware that Krishna was punished for pilfering the stuff.
After the puja Raghu did souvenir shopping at the temple sales counter. What struck me about the place is its functionality and the orderly manner of conducting community worship. Must concede that I found the way they prayed to be somewhat demonstrative, and I couldn't see myself emulating it. ISKCON devotees raised their arms, and swayed gently as they sang bhajans.

At times, the devotees moved a few steps back and forth, clapping hands loudly, and chanting Hare Krishna, Hare Rama. ISKCON believes in participatory prayer. During archna printed sheets containing 108 chants were handed out at the prayer hall, to encourage participation of even those who might not be familiar with the relevant sloka

A Saibaba shrine on farmland

My wife and I first heard about this Saibaba shrine from her sister Baby, who, in turn had heard of it from her daughter Savitha's in-laws. Word-of-mouth is the only way you get to learn of this temple, located on a private farmland near Bididi, some three km off the Mysore Bangalore highway. After our car crash near Bididi on our way to airport earlier this year, my wife believes that our lives were saved through the grace of Saibaba.
She reckons it was not a coincidence that the accident and our miraculous escape occured on a spot not far from this Saibaba shrine. And she has been wanting to visit the place ever since the accident. This we did, along with Baby, Raghu and my mother, during our recent Bangalore trip.
Among the paintings on the walls of the main prayer hall was this imgage of Saibaba you don't get to see in other Sai temples. What struck me about the painting is its creator's perception of Saibaba. The message it conveys is that even a saint needs his afternoon rest. And the setting in which the Baba is cast is so absorbingly down-to-earth.
The Saibaba shrine is located on the farmland owned by a retired Air India pilot, Capt. V V Mahesh. It was his wife Samyuktha's idea to portray the Baba as a person, not a deified entity placed on a pedestal; as someone with whom the poor and the humble among his devotees can relate. She conveyed her thoughts to an artist who put them on canvas. Maybe Samyuktha was motivated by what she read, and, as her husband put it, she has read almost everything nearly everyone has written on Saibaba.

Shirdi Diary by G S Khaparde, they say, describes the life and times, and daily routine of Saibaba in his later years (1910-18). Though his birth and early life remain remains a mystery, Saibaba's death is recorded history - Oct.15, 1918. Wikipedia refers to his taking samadhi on the lap of a devotee, at 2.30 in the afternoon.

A Saibaba devotee since the age of 12, Samyuktha spoke of a dream that prompted her to build this temple. She consulted her husband, who agreed to do it on their own farm near Bangalore 'although he wasn't then a Saibaba devotee ike me,' said Samyuktha. Their three sons, one of whom is also a pilot, helped them with with funds to make their mother's dream a reality.
Capt.Mahesh says the shrine has been there for seven years now.The main prayer hall and a smaller one for meditation, apart from landscaping work has been completed. What remains is Nandadeep - a cluster of 108 brass lamps to be placed in enclosed space in the temple courtyard.

They have fixed a timeline for its completion - by January next - whether or not they raise funds through donation. "We are confident of meeting the requirement,'observed Capt.Mahesh, adding that the project is estimated to cost Rs.6 lakhs. The architect were taking measurements of the Nandadeep site when we were visiting the temple. Samyuktha was modest about whatever her family was doing. She referred to an anonymous devotee who has donated Rs.62 crores for infrastruture improvement to facilitate visitors to Shirdi. "What we are doing isn't much in comparison," says Samyuktha. The couple also run a special school for 40-odd mentally challenged children. They have a house Bangalore's Richmond Rd.,but they find it worthwhile spending much of the time in their farmhouse. "the city traffic being what it is,cummuting is hassle," says Capt. Mahesh.

We visited the temple shortly before the mid-day prayer. Capt. Mahesh persuaded us to stay till aarthi,followed by prasad, biscuits and a piece of laddu. Which gave us time to interact with the Mahesh couple. The setting was conducive to contemplation. A visitor to the prayer hall tends to sit in silence for a while. Capt.Mahesh has thoughfully placed plastic chairs in the hall for the benefit of the aged and the handicapped.
At the far end of the courtyard across the main prayer hall is a smaller hall where they keep an eternal fire going. The sanctity about it is that this was lit with the embers from a piece of firewood brought from dhuni in Shirdi. "We couldn't bring it by train; they wouldn't allow it on a plane," said Capt. Mahesh, adding that the sacred fire from Shirdi was brought by road in a hired van.

The dhuni is the perpetually burning fire that Baba had going in his abode. The fire is today much bigger and is enclosed in a wired cage. It is said that Baba, when asked why this fire, replied that it was for burning our sins, or karma. It is reported that Baba spent hours sitting in contemplation by the dhuni.

Chittur Kavu: A two-in-one temple

This is the older of the twin temples dedigated to Bhagavathi. We chose to visit Chittur Kavu on a Friday evening, because we were at Pollachi only for two clear days, and the other temples on our must-do list - Sulakkal or Masaniamman - were far too crowded on Fridays.
Chittur temple didn't have too many visitors, for a Friday evening. Which gave us a chance to get good darshan. Unlike in so many other temples, the priest here doesn't exert himself, carrying out rituals - chanting of archana or doing frequent aarthi everytime a devotee hands in an archana slip. All that the priest does here is read out names from the slips you give him, and he then places them at the feet of the deity.
At the main temple, across the lane, we were told the aarthi was not scheduled until 7.15 pm - when we could have payasam offered as prasadam. We were there an hour ealier, and could smell the flavour of prasadam in the making, at a corner of the temple compound. We moved on, satisfied with with a jar of pre-packed payasam, earlier offered in arthi at the other Bhagavathi temple .
This is the back entrance to the main temple. Visitors use a side door, and they have to cross a knee-high threshold to enter the sannadhi. Not particularly visitor-friendly, is it ? Especially, for devotees with knee trouble. Mine hasn't gone bad enough, not yet. So I could manage to cross the threshold. Male visitors need to remove their shirt before entry.
Chittur main street, leading to the temple. We can claim family connections with Chittur. Had we explored the agraharam after the temple visit, we could have run into someone remotely related to my mother's mother or my wife's elder sister Padhu. Chittur was the native place of Padhu's in-laws. Her husband Ramanathan was born and did his early schooling here.
The Ramanathan family was among the town's reputed residents. His father used to run a bank, and as a wealthier resident of the town he sent his only son Ramanathan to Madras to study law. When family fortunes took a turn for the worse, young Ramanathan, now married to Padhu (my wife's sister), settled in Madras and took a job as law officer in the Amalgamation Group. As a loyal employee, Ramanathan stayed with the same company till death.
After her husband's death, Padhu splits her time between Chennai and Los Angeles, where her only son Shivakumar is settled. The photo, of Padhu and daughter Shobi, was taken when we Skyped during her last US visit. She has since returned to Chennai. Following our Chittur visit, my wife phoned Padhu. She had fond memories of the place, of Ramanathan's ancestral house, which was not far from the temple.
My wife regretted that it didn't occur to us to go the extra-mile on this road, if only to bring back pictures of Padhu's family house. Ramanathan had sold it during his lifetime.
The temple, located in the town centre, is a convenient meeting place for elderly neighbourhood residents. The temple management have thoughtfully provided seating space, by way of concrete slabs laid along the front wall of the temple.