Reflections

We called him Achachan, the equivalent of grandpa in my native language, Malayalam. He was actually my grandpa's younger brother. I don't have clear memories of first meeting him. But I remember whenever we met him during some family gatherings; he used to be very affectionate to us. And my father was fond of him. Achachan was the youngest child in his family. As a kid, he was very good in his studies and did his course in Survey. Later he worked as a civil engineer in Singapore. He loved books and was a voracious reader. Not sure about the authenticity of this story, but it still makes rounds in the family. When Japan invaded Singapore during the Second World War, people started leaving their houses picking whatever valuables they could carry. One day, while the bombing was going on, Achachan ran out of his house and kept running for some time. Once the sound of bombing subsided, he walked into a nearby house. He couldn't find anyone inside and suddenly fire broke out.

One thing I was always afraid of was cooking. Like Murphy's Law, it finally came for me. Recently, I moved out of the hostel to a flat to live with my friends. We had to prepare our dinner every day. As I had not many options left, I started learning the culinary skills. Mohan, my friend was my Guru. When it comes to cooking, he is a real tough master. He is very particular starting from the cleanliness of the utensil to the way a lid is to be placed on top of the vessel. As an apprentice, I started off with vegetable chopping under the constant vigilance of Mohan. I wept like a child while chopping onions. My hands smelled like hell after peeling garlic. My fingers were burning after slicing chilly. Still, I persisted. I was determined to learn the art of cooking. That was not the only factor, which forced me to continue. Mohan had told me if I don't cook, I wouldn’t eat. As days went by, Mohan started testing my skills. One evening, I came home alone and had to start pre

While I was doing my Masters, I decided to spend my semester holidays with my friends from Gujarat. As soon as the exams got over, Mohan, my classmate as well as roommate and myself boarded the train along with my friends from Gujarat. We reached Gujarat on the second day of the journey around 6.30 am. First week of the holidays were planned to be spent at the house of our friend, Chirag. So we went to his home after alighting from the train. It was January 26th and the nation was waking up to celebrate the Republic Day. Even though winter was receding, it was pretty cold compared to the climate in Kerala. We reached Chirag's home and were welcomed warmly by his parents. Around 8.45am I was talking to Vikas, another friend of mine who lives in Baroda, over the phone. I suddenly felt like being in a swing. I thought it was because of the 2 days travel in the train and continued talking over the phone. Suddenly, Chirag's father who was performing his daily Puja, asked me to run o

Football, the beautiful game, is one of the most popular games on Planet Earth. If soccer were a religion, it would have been the one with the largest number of followers. A footballer is virtually worshipped by his fans throughout his career and if fortunate later also. Among them, forwards/strikers enjoy the liberties and privileges of stardom the most. In my opinion defenders are the unsung heroes of the game. The main duties of a defender include defending his side, feeding the ball to the midfield and forwards, getting scolded by the goalkeeper, and crippling the opponent forwards. How much good an individual you are, you cannot escape the sin of committing fouls. It's part of a defender's job. When a smart fellow dribbles past you, you are expected to make him fall, if the situation demands you. The important part is not only you have to trip him, but you have to do it in such a manner that the umpires do not see you committing that heinous crime. If by chance they see

On the morning of 4th June 2003, as usual I started from my room to my lab. While stepping down the stairs of my hostel, I saw Sudeep hurrying towards me. He asked whether I was ready to accompany Dipankar to Nasik. On the previous day, he had asked me whether I could go with Dipankar to the Narmada Bachao Andolan (NBA) Dharna (sit-in) site at Nasik. On the fifth day of the dharna by the tribals in the Narmada valley at Nasik, five main activists observed a 24-hour fast to demand the immediate steps for resettling 3000 families likely to be affected by the 100 meters height of the Sardar Sarovar Project (SSP). However, no relevant action was forthcoming on the part of the government despite the repeated pleas and explanations. Therefore, the NBA was compelled to announce the indefinite fast by its main activist, Medha Patkar, from 30th May. Medhaji was communicating with the NBA headquarters and sending press releases using a laptop. It crashed and so she needed a replacement as early

What's in a name? A name is, after  all, a name. In my case, there is something more. I was born as the first child of my parents. Like any other loving parents, my parents used to call me "Mon", "Kuttan" and "Raja", that are some words equivalent to son, darling, prince, etc in my native tongue. Life was going so smoothly and happily. And one fine morning my dad handed over a letter to my mother. That was a birthday invitation. It went like this-"We cordially invite you with your family to be part of the birthday celebrations of our son Girija Vallabha Raja Kumar.U.R. on .....". On reading this my mother was equally shocked and confused. She thought over and over and could not figure out who exactly are these Girija, Vallabha, Raja, and Kumar. She was sure that she gave birth to a baby boy only. Seeing my mother in a really confused state, my dad started explaining. It was actually a long lecture which required a deep and thorough underst