rambler raman: A Single Group with Double Identity

rambler raman: A Single Group with Double Identity:                                 A Single Group with Double Identity                                           By A V. Raman (Author’s ...

A Single Group with Double Identity

 

 

                           A Single Group with Double Identity

                                          By A V. Raman

(Author’s Note. To many in the North, the word Madrasis means people from the South without any regard to the geographies like Andhra, Karnataka, Kerala, and Tamil Nadu. Big cosmopolitan cities like Delhi and Mumbai have huge numbers of such Madrasis. I have lived as a Madrasi in both cities and observed the difference in their attitude and outlook.  With due apology to George Bernard Shaw**, I would say that Delhi’s and Mumbai’s Madrasis are the same as a group but widely divided in their respective lifestyle and attitude.    If Delhi’s are more bureaucratic, Mumbai’s are more entrepreneurial.

Delhi's Madrasis

 I have lived in Delhi for nearly three decades, from 1950 to 1980 as school and college student and as a junior government official. My maternal uncles and other relations were all government servants, some living there from the 1920s and used to move between Delhi and Shimla and back as the British government shifted its offices likewise. In Delhi the high-ranking officers lived close to the Central Secretariat in large bungalows with spacious lawns, hall, bed rooms with attached baths, and three or four servants’ quarters.  Lower rank officers like superintendents etc.  lived in smaller bungalows while officials like office assistants, stenographers, and Clerks lived in smaller quarters consisting of one or two rooms, kitchen and a bathroom with the latrine at the rear end of a court yard.

      

With many Subramanians and Ganesans for their names, distinction was made either with reference to the Ministry where they worked or in the Square where they lived, like Finance Subramanian, Defence Ganesan or Wilson Square Ramasubban and Lawrence Square Sivaramakrishnan. If two Sethuramans were in the same Finance ministry, then the distinction was based on the Wing/ department, such as Expenditure Sethuraman versus Controller of Capital Sethuraman.  Another distinctive clue was their pastime or leisure activities like Bhajana Samaj Krishnan or Karnataka Sangeetha Sabha Ramamurthy and these persons had high titles like Additional Secretary, Joint Secretary, etc. in their respective organisations... And in addition, there were also nicknames given and recognised by the whole community, like Bonda Srinivasan, Typhoid Krishnamurthy, and Driver Devarajan, and so on.

 

    When it came to their career in government, all Madrasis earned the unenviable reputation as honest, sincere, hard- working, efficient and with absolute integrity. The price that was paid for such appreciation was the neglect of leisure time happiness on holidays with family and friends. Many of them would have spent decades living in Delhi but had not had the time to see the Kutb  Minar, the Red Fort, Purana Qila and other historical monuments which abound in Delhi.

 

     The institutions that united them were The South India Club, The Madrasi School, The Karnatak Sangeetha Sabha, The Vaishnava Siddhantha Sabha, The Saturday Bhajana Sabhas, The Navaratri Golus and of course the Irwin Road Pilliar Koil and the adjacent Hanuman Mandir and the Baird Road Kali Koil. Apart from mutual family visits, inter-family communication was through the Tamil Vadhyar group to which the families belonged when a Sastrigal of that group came to announce the important religious events of the month and collect the monthly subscription. Integration with other communities was next to nothing for most of the Madrasis, although they collectively enjoyed the confidence of the Punjabi grocers, clothiers and other shopkeepers who gave them credit facilities liberally without question.

 

    Among the uniting institutions mentioned above, the Madrasi School occupied a predominant position as it was here that the children of all Madrasis, irrespective of the status of the parents, whether a Joint Secretary or an Upper Division Clerk, or the child of a Sastrigal or a cook, came for studies. Those were days of no dress code or uniforms, and yet all children studied in an environment of equality and fraternity The teachers, both male and female, were exceptionally devoted to their profession, took avuncular interest in each student, and were kind-hearted. Till the fifties, there was only one school on Reading Road. Even when there was no bar for students from other regions or linguistic groups for admission, the Madrasi School remained exclusively a Tamil school. Ironically, when it became a multi-branch Tamil school in its name in the sixties, called The Delhi Tamil Education Association School (DTEA), it now has both students and teachers from other parts of the country. Today the School has many branches spread across New Delhi and its suburbs and celebrated its centenary.

     The Madrasis were a powerful group in the Central Secretariat. Their network was strongly knit and mutually helpful. Any special attention or facility in AIIMS, Safdarjung and other government hospitals was arranged by a Madrasi Jt. Secretary in the Health Ministry, while a Madrasi officer in Civil Supplies Department took care of additional allotment of sugar and Maida for a Madrasi wedding. Acquiring of land and construction of the many temples in the sixties and seventies in New Delhi was mainly because of the initiative and strength of this network.  

 

     Most of the Madrasis of my time in Delhi have retired, while some continue to live in Delhi in their retired lives in housing colonies in faraway places bordering U.P and Haryana, their post- retirement life and interests are confined within these areas mainly centring the local temple. They re-live their experience recalling some happy and. A few have gone back to their native towns or villages in South India to a quiet life.   Only a few of their next generation have opted to be government servants and continue to constitute Delhi’s Madrasis. The Tamil population in Delhi is around 10 lakhs now lakhs comprising sizable numbers employed in private sector companies, as self- employed professionals, as traders and service providers etc.  Yet, there is still a lot many of them working in or retired from public - sector organisations like banks, insurance companies, STC, MMTC, Delhi State government offices, etc. So, the Delhi is still a government city by and large and smells bureaucratic Delhi Madrasis are, at heart, Sarkari animals. They populated the ministries of Shastri Bhawan and the corridors of the UPSC. Success to a Delhi Madrasi is defined by three things: a permanent government pension, an allotment of a Type-IV quarter, and a daughter who cleared the Civil Services. The Delhi Mama speaks in files, notifications, and protocol. He has mastered the art of looking incredibly busy while doing absolutely nothing, a crucial trait absorbed from his Punjabi colleagues. His cynicism is sharp, intellectual, and masked behind a polite, bilingual

Mumbai’s Madrasis

The Mumbai Madrasi has a very different story. He did not arrive with government postings but with ambition, relatives and one address in Matunga or Chembur scribbled on paper. Mumbai transformed the Madrasis into bankers, restaurateurs, railway employees, Udupi hotel owners, accountants, tuition masters, and eventually IT professionals.

The Mumbai Madrasi’s real university was not IIT but the suburban railway but Mumbai gave something Delhi never fully could: social blending. The Mumbai Madrasi became part-Marathi, part-Gujarati and part-Mumbaikar. He learnt to eat vada pav without betraying dosa ancestry. His Tamil acquired Marathi punctuation. His children spoke in a linguistic khichdi that linguists may someday classify as an endangered dialect. A typical Mumbai Madrasi of yore would take one look at the local train map and claim Matunga and Chembur as his holy land. Here, space is a luxury. The Mumbai Madrasi lives in a flat so small that if Mama does his morning Sandhyavandanam (prayers) too vigorously, his elbow hits the neighbour’s kitchen.

The legendary Chembur Mama is a creature of the private sector—either a chartered accountant, a bank manager at Nariman Point, or a statistician.  He values efficiency over status. He doesn't care about government bungalows; he cares about his local train first-class pass and the current valuation of his mutual funds. He is completely stripped of the Delhi snobbishness. He will argue with a vegetable vendor over two rupees of coriander, save fifty thousand rupees on his income tax through complex legal loopholes, and then donate a lakh to the local temple without batting an eyelid.

 Mumbai Madrasis too have unifying institutions like the Shanmukananda Sabha, South Indian Education Society and its schools and colleges, the Fine Arts Society in Chembur, and the Bhajana Samaj and temples in Matunga and in suburbs like Mulund with heavy Madrasi population and last but not least the ubiquitous Kamat and Shetty restaurants all over the metropolis. The Onam celebrations and the associated Sadia feasts are other uniting factors. Mumbai Madrasis are financially practical. They tracked mutual funds while complaining about coconut prices. Mumbai gave them freedom. The city cared less about where you came from and more about whether you paid rent on time. A Madrasi in Mumbai could reinvent himself. The son of a railway clerk could become a banker, actor, entrepreneur, or software engineer. Mumbai’s cosmopolitan chaos diluted rigid identities. And unlike Delhi, Mumbai never freezes South Indians during winter.

The Second-Generation Revolution

Today’s younger generation of Madrasis, both in Delhi and Mumbai, has evolved dramatically: they eat sushi without guilt. They speak English more fluently than their mother tongue. They know Spotify better than Thyagaraja. They debate startup funding instead of Carnatic ragas.

Conclusion: Two Cities, One Filter Coffee

Delhi’s Madrasi became disciplined, intellectual and institution-oriented. Mumbai’s Madrasi became adaptive, entrepreneurial and socially blended. One mastered bureaucracy. The other mastered survival. One conquered ministries. The other conquered local trains.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

The Verdict: Who is the Real Madrasi?

To compare the two is to compare a vintage, slow-moving government file with a high-frequency algorithmic trade.

· The Delhi Madrasis won the battle of space and status. They got the large flats, the green lawns, the administrative clout, and a vocabulary that allows them to stand up to a volatile Delhi autowallah with a calm, bureaucratic stare.

· The Mumbai Madrasis won the battle of survival and soul. They stayed closer to the coastal air, mastered the art of financial independence, and learned to find absolute bliss in a two-minute cup of kaapi standing on a crowded footpath while the monsoon hits the city.

One looks up at the corridors of power; the other looks down at the bottom line of the balance sheet. But should you ever place a perfectly crisp idli and a bowl of steaming hot, uncompromised home-made sambhar between them, the geopolitical borders vanish instantly. Both will forget the city outside, click their tongues in unison, and exclaim: Nothing to beat filter coffee

(**England and America are two countries separated by a common language-GBS)

  

 

Women’s Day Musings

The 8^th  of March each year   is   observed  globally as Women’s Day  in  honor of   women for their qualities of courage ,compassion, and resilience and in recognition of their rights to equal opportunities, education, and respect . Women leaders like our own Indira Gandhi, Margret Thatcher, Sirimavo Bandaranaike inspired awe and fear in men including their male counterparts . Indira Gandhi was even called the only Man in her cabinet which in my opinion is not acceptable. Such description puts  man   on  a higher status for the woman to  break the  glass ceiling to claim equality - a notion  very antithesis of the spirit underlying  Women’s Day

My adoration of women began early in my life and lasted  till  I married one. For most married men,  a  sense of fear of the wife develops affecting their relationship.  Even the most courageous husband appears  afraid of  his better half.  Incidentally,  the phrase better- half  for the wife seems apt because the  man’s other half is filled only with fear for her.  Mythology is silent about Gods who have their spouses in half their bodies referring to them as better halves.

Most  husbands who  outside their homes  act and roar like  lions become meek and weak like  lambs  in the presence of their wives.   There is the famous story about a  queue of men outside the Pearly  Gate waiting for admission to Heaven when the person managing the queue asked those who feared their wives to stand in one line and the others in another line. All lined up in one line  except one man  who stood alone in a separate  line. When  asked whether  he did not fear his wife, he answered that that his wife had told him not to stand in the same line with others!  Or the other one about a man who avowed before the idol of Ganesha that he would break a hundred coconuts if the journey he was going on with his wife would be safe. At this  the wife was furious with rage and gave him a look with her  eyes brimming fire. He shivered and hid his face from Ganesha with a hand and whispered to her that it was only a “Jumla”  

In Bharat , we had followed the principle of  man  superior, pun unintended, at home till the radical, worldwide second wave feminist movement in the late 1960s through the 1980s alerted  us about equality of genders, not merely for voting but also in house chores like washing, cooking and baby- sitting, etc. However,  governments  in Maharashtra , Bihar, Tamil Nadu etc.  do not seem to be  convinced by this equality argument. They pay  cash,  provide free ride in Buses and Metro only to women.  Are they too afraid of women ?    

Try as I might to get my wife treating me like husband of  yore, I confess I have failed. In the formative years of our married life, I would follow the laissez faire policy, which in one of my books on political science, was explained as “let the sleeping dogs lie” policy. But not anymore,  after nearly sixty years, I now gather some courage to air my opinion on  domestic, national, international issues and  topics ranging from local vegetable prices in APMC market in Mumbai, MeToo campaigns in Mollywood and elsewhere, destruction and construction of places of worship, global warming, water seepage seen on the Taj Mahal and other miscellaneous matters like Chandrayan, the comment of our PM that the  present era is of peace and not war and yet two of his friends have not heeded leading to the ongoing Iran-US-Israel War.

While I willingly share all my opinions with my wife, she more often than not turns a deaf year and lo and behold, shows deep scorn.  This has led me feel total disappointment since even the one closest to me fails to acknowledge my extensive wisdom and all  the good qualities I possess and exhibit.  While I was in service in semi-government offices and later as faculty in management training/education institutions, I used to receive,  expectedly of course,   encomiums about my intelligence and oration from  my subordinates and  students respectively. Now even the group of senior citizens  I meet in our Cooperative Housing Society  have stopped  praising  my erudition in Hindi despite  being a Tamil.

All the above notwithstanding,  what disappoints me the most is that  my wife  does not appreciate  my astute political analysis vis -a -vis Karnataka elections or my insightful interpretation of the New Education Policy 2020 or NCERT’s rationalization of school syllabi or  my profound musical heritage. The last talent extends to all forms of music ranging from classical Carnatic to Hindustani to film music and  even the  jingles in TV advertisements  like the one on Rajasthan’s march of progress.      

During our morning ritual of sipping coffee  at the dining table when the social distance between us is narrow, the wife sits like Rodin’s statue ”The Thinker”. The invigorating coffee sets me narrating to her one or the other of my virtues. Nothing moves her and  she sits there as if to prove the old adage that No Man is a hero to his Woman. At the most,  her response on these occasions is confined  to listing my  tasks for the day such as cutting the sturdy 2 kg yam for making chips,   buying groceries including broomstick and mop cloth or getting the Society electrician to repair the non-functional geyser switch in the bathroom.  As if this was not bad enough, she would point out to  my dhoti slipping often and chide me to tie and secure it firmly  so that I don’t walk like Mammooti and Mohandas in Malayalam films  holding one end of the dhoti.

Like the Feminist Movement, I wish there was a Movement of Anguished Husbands to secure for them dignity, acknowledgement, and forbearance of their qualities of peaceful co-existence with their respective wives.

 N.B. This blog issues with my wife’s permission!

 

The Two Sides of Cricket

This week, there were  two  unique cricket-related news. One was the victory of the Indian side in  the match against Pakistan in a  World Cup engagement and the other was the  joint appeal signed by some of celebrated cricketers of the world  demanding that  the Pakistan government treat the imprisoned former Pakistan cricket captain  Imran Khan with basic dignity and provide him urgent medical care.

Thes two news represent the two sides of generational change in cricket. The first news relates the absence of the time -tested  handshake by the two captains at the end of the game a la what happened  in the final of the Asia Cup  match in Dubai a few days ago. Then too the Indian captain walked away without shaking hands with Pak players or their captain. It was thought  that this  cricket win  against Pakistan is the fittest reply and true decider of Operation Sindhoor against Pakistani terrorists.  A win or loss in a cricket match,   like in any other game,   is a  test of skill of the players. It has nothing to do with a country’s relations with another country.  By repeating the cold and unfriendly gesture of not shaking hands once again in a T20 World Cup match, the Indian team has set  a legacy of enmity not just with the players of the other side but also  the country they represent. . In any match the two playing sides are merely  rivals for the duration of  the game . They are not enemies by any standard. Players are influencers of public perception and  opinion. It was therefore no surprise that GenZ spectators were heard saying , like a war cry, ”crush / destroy the enemy”. The  Sports correspondent of The Economic Times captioned  his report “Another emphatic victory, another missing handshake- history may judge Suryakumars’s India unkindly……Surya , the captain is winner, but as a leader he stands diminished”. On the same note, I ended my  blog on the Dubai game,  “In Dubai, we won a game of cricket  but lost its spirit. “

In the second case ,  14 former celebrated cricketers spanning six decades of the game and from every cricket playing country have in a joint appeal for treating Imran Khan with  dignity and humaneness The Appeal mentions their understanding ,as cricketers , of the values of fair play, honour and respect governing their behaviour in and out of the field  and states “ A  person of Imran Khan’s stature deserves to be treated with the dignity  befitting a former national leader and a global sporting icon ……….Our shared history on the field  reminds us that rivalry ends when the stumps are drawn – and respect endures” . It is imperative to note the sentiments of respect and humanness expressed by the former players for another  player who might have even captained a rival team against them. This s points out the other side where  past players have exhibited humane sentiments for a player serving his term.  

The two news may also be seen as representing  the change in the characteristics of the game of  cricket  form  the  5 -day Test  to the present  T20 game lasting just a little over 3 hours.  The Test match reflected patience and artistry like the batters scoring through elegant off -drives , late- cuts and leg -sweeps and the pace  bowlers using  speed and swing and spinners  employing  deceit of hand and wrist and the googly. On the other side,  the T20 game  reflets  the batter’s aggression, the swing for the helicopter shot  and spooning  of the bat  over the wicket keeper’s head.  They may provide thrill for the generational change in spectators but it is not cricket  as the saying goes.

Let us make cricket a Gentlemen’s game again.

 

The famous Shakesperean quote " Brevity is the soul of wit" is appropriate if followed  in a comment on a long-winded recital of something by someone. Even so, as an additional precaution, we do not   convey to her in order  to maintain good relations. But in today’s world of  social media, like Whatsapp or Facebook, emoticons are extensively used in place of words. 

Say, you are sending the message about your unopposed election as Secretary of the local music  sabha to your group in WA/FB. You expect replies congratulating you  and adding a few lines about your musical instincts and how deserved you are for that post. But how would you feel if they use the emoticon  or. Take another case, you send your friends details of the 50th  wedding anniversary you and your wife and all that you get in reply is,. To a long narration of your friendship with a person extolling his timely help and expecting him to say in aptly chosen words not to mention that  etc, you see a .

Okay, we live in a busy world where time is the most precious of our possessions, but to say your feelings using emoticons, however appropriate, is  , sorry , I  mean sad !

 

Institutions are no  Roses 

Opened in 1985 by the then Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi, the Nehru Science Centre in Worli, Mumbai was created as living memorial to India’s first Prime Minister , Jawaharlal  Nehru. It is  a fantastic Museum offering   a wide variety of interactive exhibits, including a planetarium, 3 D shows  and hands -on experiment covering topics like  physics, astronomy and the human body. It is one of the major tourist attractions  for  Indian and foreign visitors to Mumbai. On holidays, children  throng  to see the marvels of science and technology hands on.

Names are profoundly important for both individuals and institutions. In the case of institutions, the name is often the touchpoint with the public. It tells a story about its identity and purpose. A carefully chosen name can communicate the core values, and mission so as to attract the right type of customers. Nehru’s deep and lifelong interest in science was crucial for him since he believed that it was the only way to modernize India and eradicate poverty. He was instrumental in establishing a chain of scientific research establishments, some of which are world renowned like ,for example,  the Bhabha Atomic Research Centre in Mumbai.

Judged by these standards, the name of the Worli science museum as Nehru Science Centre is very appropriate. However,   the headline of a news  item in today’s The Indian Express reads ”Nehru’s name goes missing from Worli Science Centre Metro station “. The report under this headline includes the  photograph of a sign board reading Science Centre Metro Station .  This  has caused considerable  consternation among people who lived in  Nehru’s life time and were  influenced by his core values of democracy and scientific temper

It may be according to a government’s policy to rename  the monumental buildings, institutions, public gardens etc., The raison d’etre for such change  is to erase  names associated with colonial  he past and other foreign rulers . It  appears that the opinion of the public who for ages have known and identified them with their original names was  not important .

 In this context, I wish to share my experience regarding an attempted  change of name of a religious centre in Kanchipuram in Tamil Nadu.  As many would know,  Kanchipuram is one of the Mutts established by Adi Shankarachrya . Its premises is located on a road and over a period of time has come to be called Matam Road by  residents , devotees,  and others  like taxi,  autorickshaw drivers, etc., Any one arriving  at Railway/ Bus Stations, to visit the Kanchi Sankaracharya has only to say Matam for his destination and he would be dropped there.

I paid a visit to Kanchipuram   in 2003 to have the darshan of Sri Jayendra Saraswati , who then was  of the reigning  Swamigal of the Matam. In my pre-retirement job was in an organization linked to government operated bus transport undertakings.  I was known to many of their managers , including Shri. Killi Valaven, Bus Depot Manager in Kanchipuram, who enjoyed the privilege as an important local official like the SP, the Collector etc.  Thanks to him,  I had  an easy  personal audience with the Seer.

The Seer asked me  if  I knew a particular incident in Killivalavan’s   official life which was immensely appreciated by one and all. He then narrated about the political pressure exerted on Killivalavan directing him  that the destination boards on the buses operating from Railway  and Bus stations should not be lettered as Sankara  Matam as it denotes a place of importance of only a particular religion. Killivalavan stood firm that he would not in his life change it  from  Sankara Matam , which alone is known to all devotees  coming from far and near to Kanchipuram and  that if a change is made , public will be  put to great inconvenience  coming  to  see the Sankarcharya in his abode.

Today,  many changes  have been made to  institutions, public  buildings, roads and avenues, with new names . The public who too  are stakeholders have had no chance to be taken into confidence. .  

 Places and institutions are  not roses .  The famous Shakesperean quote  “What’s in a name? That which we call  a rose/ by any other name would  smell as sweet” does not hold good.

 

 ”

 

 

 What Was Won and  Lost in Dubai

After India’s convincing win over Pakistan in cricket in Dubai yesterday , The Indian Express today  carried the front-page headline “ India wins hands down over Pak, skip the handshake: For Kin of Pahalgam victims, Armed Forces “  The sports correspondent’s  report  mentions that at the end of the game the Indian captain walked away without shaking hands with Pakistani players or their captain . Obviously, one cannot shake hand with one’s  hands down!

 Yes,  the mood of the team and that of most in  the country is that this cricket win is the true decider of   Operation Sindoor against Pakistani terrorists,  which after  four days of hostilities ended with  both armies agreeing to a ceasefire , notwithstanding  President Trump’s repeated claim that he  brokered  this  ceasefire.

The question arises  why  the winning in a sporting event  should be considered  to decide the winner  in the case of  conflicts between nations over issues like terrorist attacks, border disputes,  etc,.  The Government of India and the BCCI  were not against India playing Pakistan in Dubai; only a faction of a regional political party and some members of the victim of Pahalgam massacre protested against the match. Even  after a major shift in India’s relations with Pakistan  marked by significant tension and hostility after Pahalgam, the diplomatic relations between the two countries have only resulted in  a limited presence of  staff in their respective embassies and   not a total abandonment

There is a famous  saying that the Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton, implying that the discipline, leadership, and values earned by British officers in public schools like Eton provided the foundation for their victory in the Napoleonic wars.

With reference to sports, it  may be said that apart from the above qualities,  a team’s respect for the overall  aim and purpose of sports and observance of courtesy and etiquette on the field is as important  if not more  than winning.  Nations use  sports  and sportsmen as ambassadors to promote goodwill and friendship . This alone represents the spirit of playing the  games and the reason why the late Jawaharlal Nehru exhorted the sportsmen to play the game in the spirit of the game.

 

Before the advent of ODI and T20 formats  cricket  matches  were of 5 days duration and  called TEST Matches as they were considered the ultimate test of a cricketer’s skill, endurance and temperament.  Implied were also the players’ gestures of friendship, empathy and mutual respect. Cricket was called a Gentlemen’s game  for features like accepting the Umpires’ decision as final, a dress code of white flannel for players and some rare cases of foul language.  A shining example of  concern and extraordinary empathy was that exhibited  by the West Indies captain Sir Frank Worrel and his team mates when the  Indian cricket captain Nari Contractor sustained a severe head injury while facing a bouncer from Charlie Griffith in 1962 .

In the past, India’s win over Pakistan in cricket  were  celebrations merely as a sports victory and not for  any    other reason.  

In  Dubai ,  we won a game of cricket  but lost its spirit.